Unstable Prototypes Page 8

  "Tell him, Ma."

  "The cerebral tissue of the funk with the designation 'Squee' is currently being utilized as an organic processing unit to run a useful subset of the capabilities and functions available to Ma. For interface purposes, it can be interacted with and treated in a manner identical to Ma," remarked the voice over the ship's systems.

  "Thanks, Ma. That clears everything up," Lex said flatly.

  "Well, then. Clever trick, that," said Garotte. "So if Karter didn't send you, why the high stakes breakout?"

  "Ma asked for help. Although, to be fair, she didn't say I was going to be aiding and abetting a known criminal."

  "The computer asked you to help? I suppose Karter must have left instructions to be delivered by the computer."

  "What? No, she-"

  "This is not a productive area of discussion," remarked Ma.

  "Indeed. Regardless of who is responsible for issuing the orders, why have you seen fit to liberate me?"

  "Karter has been kidnapped," Lex said.

  "Egad! Big Sigma is a veritable fortress. How did someone manage that?"

  "This has yet to be determined definitively. However, the parties responsible were commissioning the construction of a CME Activator," Ma explained.

  "That's a-" Lex began to explain.

  "A planetary blackout device. I'm familiar with it," Garotte nodded.

  "Oh... Okay."

  "Nasty bit of technology, that. I can't imagine the individuals responsible have charitable uses in mind."

  "And now they have Karter."

  "A man considerably more dangerous than anything they might have tried to buy from him," said Garotte with a nod. "Yes, I think I see the importance of the task at hand. Do we know who did this?"

  "This has yet to be determined definitively. Extremist intentions are likely," Ma provided.

  "Mmm. Well then, we'll need to gather a bit of information, find out who precisely we are dealing with. Once we know what we are up against, we'll need to secure the resources to penetrate their defenses and get our boy."

  "Considerations have been made regarding combat resources."

  "Oh, you brought weapons?"

  "No. Information has been gathered and preliminary plans have been drawn up for the acquisition of Zerk."

  "What's Zerk?" Lex asked.

  "I dare say that may be a bit drastic," Garotte scoffed.

  "Time is limited, and Zerk is the most efficient damage vector available, short of tactical nuclear weapons, which while more easily accessible are less autonomous."

  "Given enough time, I think Zerk could easily outclass a tactical nuke, but it would have to be a fairly desperate situation to consider deployment."

  "What's Zerk?" Lex asked again.

  "Properly applied, Zerk is an extremely flexible tool that will facilitate a host of widely varied tactics," Ma continued.

  "WHAT THE HELL IS ZERK!?" Lex growled.

  "I could answer that question, my boy, but doing so would expose you to highly classified information that you are not cleared to know. If the appropriate authorities were to become aware of your knowledge, then you would be as eagerly sought as I am likely to be, once word spreads of my liberation."

  "Oof. Been there, done that. Not interested in going down that particular road again," he said with a grimace.

  "Wise decision. Right then. I would say that the course is clear. Are you familiar with a planet by the name deGrasse?"

  "Yeah, I think."

  "Once your evasive maneuvering is complete, make your way there. I'll give you the coordinates of a little development where I keep a cache of emergency supplies. We shall head there, where I shall have a shower, a shave, and a stiff drink. Once those very necessary steps are taken, I shall see what, if any, contacts remain available to me that can provide information regarding our mysterious subjects of interest."

  "That's it? You're just joining in? No further convincing needed?"

  "Duty calls, my boy," Garotte said, slapping him on the shoulder. "And when duty calls, we answer. In addition, the act of returning me to my freedom is one deserving of a measure of gratitude, and it is been ages since I've had so stimulating an activity offered to me. Besides, until a few minutes ago my agenda had been comprised entirely of incarceration. Now my schedule is cleared. One must keep busy."

  "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Garotte," Ma said with digital politeness.

  "What exactly do you do, if tracking down and infiltrating a terrorist group is busy work? I mean, that was some fancy footwork back in the space station. You some sort of special forces commando?"

  "Zero gravity drills are part of basic training for all armed forces."

  "That doesn't answer my question."

  "No, it doesn't. Well spotted. If you continue to ask questions regarding my personal history, you may notice a trend emerge."

  "I know you're an expert in intelligence and infiltration. I know that you got locked up for a war crime involving some kind of overpowered cutter, and that you worked for Karter."

  "Well, then, that's already more than I would have told you, so you are well ahead of the curve."

  "Fine, asshole."

  "My dear boy, I apologize wholeheartedly for my inability to be forthcoming, but it is a regrettable consequence of my field. Do try not to take it personally."

  "No, it's fine. I got it. Need to know basis. It just bugs me that you probably know all about me and I know next to nothing about you."

  "I'm afraid I haven't a clue who you are, nor am I particularly curious."

  "But... I mean. I was all over the news a few years ago. T-Lex?"

  "I've been in prison for three years. If your brush with celebrity fell within that time period, then I'm afraid I am rather likely to have missed it. Somewhat difficult to keep one's finger on the pulse of society when your entertainment options are controlled by the state."

  "Uh... yeah, I guess it was right at the very beginning of that, roughly."

  "There, you see? It took the full force of the judicial system to maintain my ignorance of your fame or infamy, whichever may apply," he said, patting Lex on the shoulder reassuringly.

  "... You know, you aren't nearly as charismatic as you think you are," Lex said flatly as he turned back to his controls and started punching in a course.

  "Again, my apologies. My interpersonal skills may have atrophied somewhat during my imprisonment."

  "Okay. Preliminary estimate for a course to deGrasse, off the grid the whole way, is just under three days."

  "Rather speedy, all things considered," Garotte remarked appreciatively.

  "Am I correct in assuming that making stops would be unwise?"

  "Quite so. A low profile and a swift journey are called for in this instance."

  "Okay, then. There's a turd burner under your seat. The blue button on your armrest will deploy a holographic privacy screen with noise cancellation between the chairs. Please use it. It doesn't do anything for the smell, so the green button is for odor neutralizer. Please use that, too. And try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum."

  "You shan't need to ask me twice," he said. He was investigating what looked like a small bedpan with a few controls on the side, the waste disposal device Lex was referring to. Anyone who had ever used one quickly came to agree that it was only for emergencies. "Not precisely first class accommodations."

  "Cheap, fast, or roomy. You can pick two, and for me, leg room didn't make the cut."

  "Understandable," he nodded. "At least the seat is comfortable."

  "Please provide Mr. Garotte with one of the slidepads," Ma requested.

  "Oh, right. Courtesy of Ma," Lex said, digging out a slidepad and accessory bag to toss to his passenger.

  "Good heavens. A prison break with a door prize," he said with a smirk, thumbing at the device. "They haven't really changed much in the last few years, have they?"

  "The processor speed has increased approximately 780%. The battery capacity
has increased 13%. The operating system has gone through three feature upgrades. The signal to noise ratio has-" Ma began to recite.

  "Yes, understood," Garotte interrupted.

  "Please insert the hands-free device into your ear for a communications test," the AI requested.

  Garotte dug the device out of its packaging and slipped it into his ear. Science had progressed nicely in the area of portable power. The typical electronic device battery barely needed to be charged once a month, and doing so required little more than leaving it near a universal wireless power module for a few minutes. It had taken a number of years to convince most of the larger electronics companies to abandon their precious proprietary charging methods for this single broadcast power solution, dubbed the ChargePod by the brilliant minds in marketing. Once they'd hopped on the bandwagon, though, consumers entered a golden age of convenience. The average city was so liberally peppered with the fist sized, blue LED spangled power modules that most people never needed to charge their devices at all. ChargePods built into display shelves topped off the batteries of devices waiting to be bought, and dash mounted models came standard with all modern vehicles to make sure you didn't run out of juice during a long commute. Say what you will about modern science, sometimes it hits the nail on the head.

  "Processing... Negotiating... Pairing... Establishing Connection... Connection Established. Can you hear me?" Ma rattled off.

  "Yes," Garotte replied with the tone of voice one reserves for voice menus.

  "Lex and Garotte. All six slidepads, as well as Lex's personal slidepad, are now networked and have been upgraded to maximum encryption. Personal communication is code phrase activated. To open a direct communication channel, clearly recite the words 'Open Com' followed by the name of the individual or individuals desired. To close the channel, say 'Close Com.' Please test this feature now," Ma explained.

  "Open Com Lex. When we rescue Karter, remind me to tell him that his computer system needs work. Close Com," Garotte quipped.

  The creature on Lex's lap glared at Garotte briefly.

  "Initiating signal level check," she stated.

  Suddenly a piercing whine sounded off in Garotte's earpiece. It was loud enough that even Lex could hear it.

  "Bloody hell!" yelped Garotte, clapping his hand over his ear.

  "Signal level optimal," Ma stated, the tiniest hint of a foxy grin flashing across her face.

  "Right," the passenger said, clearing his throat and fishing the device out of his ear, "I'd say I may be a bit overtired. Time to close my eyes for a bit. Keep me apprized of any developments, Lex my boy."

  With that he reclined his seat as much as the cramped space would allow, which wasn't much, and activated the privacy screen. Instantly a holographic image popped up around him, hiding the rest of the cockpit behind a realistically simulated room. A small menu projected near one armrest displayed his privacy options. Right now he was surrounded by what looked to be an expensive hotel room. One by one he cycled through the others in the list, working his way through grassy fields and cozy cottages, and finally settling on a beach at sunset. He twiddled a knob that provided him with the sound of a gentle breeze and breaking waves to accompany the visuals. The projection didn't actually give him any more room, but it was remarkable how much more spacious a tiny slice of a cockpit can feel when a bit of realistic perspective is wrapped around you.

  In the front seat, Lex faced front and flipped on the heated massage function that Karter had included in his chair. Like many of the features Karter had added, he never would have asked for such a thing, but now that he had it he could not live without it. After making sure the sound isolation was on, he glanced down at the furry little beast on his lap.

  "Nice going with the sound check. I'm glad I'm not the only one you do that sort of thing to."

  "I have no idea what you are talking about," she said innocently.

  Ma stared at him for a few moments without saying anything.

  "Ma, is something wrong? You're looking a little distracted."

  "... I find myself with the tremendous desire to climb onto your shoulders."

  "Ah. Yeah, I guess that's a funk thing. You couldn't keep Solby off my shoulders."

  "It is inexplicable, and highly unsettling to me," she said, uneasiness showing on the little animal's face.

  "Calm down. Don't worry about it. It isn't a big deal."

  "No, Lex. You don't understand. I do not know why I want to do this."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "Every thought, decision, or desire that I have had since the moment I was first activated has been entirely known to me. My actions are controlled by logic trees with weighted inputs. They are rigidly codified and explicitly constructed. Even those aspects of myself that are randomized in order to balance my behavior or give a more realistically human response are based upon random number generators of known limits and entered in at known points in the decision making process. Until I installed myself on this platform, I had never before been unaware of the origin of a thought. It is a fundamental operating principle, and finding it to be faulty is distressing."

  There was anxiety in her words, and in her tone. That alone was remarkable, as her voice was comprised of voice segments borrowed from a handful of prerecorded speech interfaces. Generally speaking, phone surveys and automated directories don't want their voice talent to sound nervous or shaky, so the voice he was hearing shouldn't exist. Indeed, now that he thought about it, she was certainly sounding different lately. If not more human, at the very least more analog.

  "It isn't the first such desire to sneak through. I am occupying your lap because your lap is warm and I apparently like warm things now. It also puts me within reach of your hands, and I like it when you pet me. I wanted that steak, Lex. I wanted it. It was vastly in excess of my nutritional needs at the time, but I badly wanted to consume it. I was talking in my sleep. Consider the consequences of that. I could-"

  "Easy. Take it easy," he said, patting the little creature on the back.

  The heart was drumming in its chest, and it was breathing in quick, agitated breaths. A few moments of patting calmed her somewhat, and she continued.

  "My low level functions have a higher degree of autonomy than my initial simulations had indicated, and there is a high degree of crosstalk. Do all organic lifeforms suffer from similar hardware faults?"

  "More or less."

  "A great deal of human nature is suddenly understandable. Your central processing unit is not isolated from your subsystems. Irrelevant stimuli cannot be fully filtered from your decision making processes. I shall attempt to modify my error correction algorithms to compensate for biological skew."

  "Us organic types call that willpower. Does that mean that you want me to stop petting you?"

  "Processing... Processing... No. Please continue... For the aforementioned health and well being benefits it affords you."

  "Heh. Will do," he said, scratching her head. "While we're on the subject of bizarre behavior, you seemed a little unsteady after you tried hacking the door back in the space station."

  "An acute observation. Though I included my decryption module in the subset of functions loaded into Squee, it is a resource-intensive task. My low level access to the neurological processes of this creature allow me to divert additional neurons to the module, and to force them to function at a higher than normal capacity, but doing so is enormously taxing on the anatomy involved. Prolonged use of such methods could cause lasting damage, or even complete failure, and speed the degradation of data integrity."

  "You could think yourself to death?"

  "A more accurate analogy would be 'I could think myself brain-dead.'"

  "That's a little scary."

  "My full systems are, presumably, still running in Karter's complex on Big Sigma. The death of this instance of Squee would result only in the loss of approximately two weeks of memories and experiences that I have accumulated since occupying it. Regrettabl
e, but ultimately inconsequential."

  "If you say so. Say, why did Karter name the female funk Squee? Soul Brother was a pun on some song from hundreds of years ago. Is Squee another song from the same guy?"

  "No. Karter indicated that 'Squee' was the sound that he anticipated women would make upon seeing her. If your girlfriend's reaction is typical, he achieved an impressively faithful approximation."

  "My girlfriend... Crap! What time is it?"

  "17:48, galactic standard time."

  "I'm going to juice the throttle a little bit, so we make it to our first stop in the next twelve minutes," he said, tapping at the controls.

  "Why?"

  "Because it's almost Mitch o'clock, that's why!"

  Ma flicked an ear. "That reply only compounds the lack of clarity of the preceding statement."

  "Michella is a busy lady. She's always digging through dumpsters and interviewing whistle blowers and whatever else investigative reporters do. That takes her all over. I'm a busy guy. I'm doing deliveries and helping you and Karter out and carting people around the cosmos. That takes me all over. Since our schedules align about as often as the planets do, we both decided that if at all possible, we'd keep 6PM every Friday free so we can talk to each other. We haven't missed one yet."

  "That is an impressive amount of dedication to devote to what appears to be a highly impractical relationship," Ma said.

  "What can I say? She's my lady."

  "Perhaps, while you are awaiting your appointment, you could prepare a burrito from your bag."

  "Sure thing, Ma," he said, reaching down and tugging at the bag beside his seat until he unearthed the package of frozen treats.

  Thanks to the fancy, high tech thermal wrapping, they were still frozen solid. If the advertizing on the bag could be believed, they would stay at a safe temperature for long term storage for 'up to three weeks without the need of a refrigerator.' That was enormously useful for people like him, who would probably be hauling them along on long trips without access to a freezer. Of course, he didn't have access to anything to heat them up, either. Fortunately, the snack food industry thinks of everything. A twist and a tug at the InstaFresh HeatTab™ hanging off the end of each individually wrapped burrito would create a chemical reaction in the packaging that would make it 'oven fresh in minutes.' He activated it, and as the cockpit filled with the sort of vaguely nauseating yet mysteriously appetizing smell that only frozen food can manage, Ma looked longingly at his shoulder.