“Please don’t call Jason that,” Percy sputtered. He felt his cheeks warm, though it felt more like his face was on fire, rather than just red. The A.I. smirked, instead of saying anything. Of course. It was the kind of reaction that, frankly, Percy half-expected from an A.I. that had Jason’s name all over it.
Percy tried his best to ignore the shimmering holographic avatar of Scipio, but it was a bit difficult. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the dim light. He wondered where his clothes were—if he even had any at this point. The search, ultimately, proved to be fruitless. “Scipio,” said Percy, relenting with a sigh, “Where can I find clothes?”
There was a soft ding that filtered in through the speakers in the room, and a holographic projection outlined the doors of a closet that Percy felt stupid for missing. The doors swung open on their own, revealing an array of standard-issue jumpsuits—ones with Scipio’s emblem on the shoulder. “Thank you, Scipio,” said Percy, gingerly pushing himself off of the bed and onto the floor.