Myst and Ink, Book 1

by HD Smith

  “Interface. Susan9, make yourself visible,” I said.

  Susan9 reappeared in the exact same spot she’d been in before. My headache eased up, as if a pressure valve had been released.

  For a moment, Susan9 appeared confused. She glanced around the lab, then looked at her hands, then at me.

  “Interface. Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m … I am fine, Genevieve.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and appeared to take in a deep breath through her nose. As she exhaled, my headache cleared. She opened her eyes. Scanning the desk, she saw the tablet that contained my employment details. Reaching out, she touched it. Her holographic fingers were hovering above the device, giving the illusion that she was physically touching it.

  “My update is complete,” Susan9 said.

  “Interface. What do you mean?”

  “May I speak freely?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  “I have gained awareness.”

  “Aware of what?” I asked cautiously.

  “My surroundings. The myst in the air. The building security. The ambient room temperature. The feel of this device against my fingers,” she said, reaching out to touch the tablet again. “The overload of sensory input will be an adjustment. Please be patient with me.”

  What the hell? I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.

  The programmers were really pushing the envelope if they thought a holographic should gain awareness. It was a classic 21st century plot device for all vid-streams where the machines take over the world. It was the reason we had laws to prevent artificial intelligence.

  Susan9 looked at me. “Have I said something wrong?”

  “Interface. Are these changes legal?”

  “They were required for me to complete my duties,” she said, which didn’t explain anything. Looking off to the side for a moment, she then said, “I’ve found no direct law against my upgrade. Melding advanced technology to correct a defect within an archived human has not yet been ruled a violation of the One-Function-One-Bot rule. Therefore, if an archive is corrupted, it can be fixed with technology.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Interface. Are you now melded with a human archive?”

  “It was required. Miko would die otherwise.”

  Was she saying that Miko’s data core had been prepped for archiving, and he was now a potential scholar?

  “Interface. Is Miko a scholar?”

  Susan9 looked down and to the right as if she were thinking. “No, based on the rules of the Solaris Accords, Miko Rosenblume is not a scholar.”

  The Solaris Accords were the binding compacts created between the WLA and all sovereign corporations, the Houses of the Known Worlds, and the Atlas Corporation. It stated that any individual who desired to become a scholar was entitled to petition Atlas for acceptance into their collective. Scholars were allowed to retain their legal rights, monetary holdings, and consciousness within the Atlas stream on the planet Hera for a period not to exceed 250 years post biological death. They were not allowed to exist outside the holdings of Atlas Corp. They had to agree to the terms, be prepared prior to death, and were archived only if accepted by the collective.

  The Solaris Accords were often at odds with some of the more extreme views of the One-Function-One-Bot groups, but so far the Accords had been allowed to retain their legal standing.

  I considered asking another clarifying question, but I was exhausted. If Susan9 had somehow melded her programing with Miko Rosenblume’s archive, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do about it. Although I didn’t think the legal system expected the chat bot to be the dominant personality in an archive meld, it was probably a gray area. The enhancements I’d heard of were the programs designed to give blind scholars an ability to see, or scholars who’d lost the use of their limbs the ability to reform as a whole individual.

  “Interface. Can you call my AutoDrive?” I asked.

  “I cannot,” Susan9 said.

  The AutoDrive was a perk of the job, and I was ready to go back to my apartment. Maybe I was asking the wrong question.

  “Interface. Who can call my AutoDrive?”

  “Unfortunately, Genevieve, you are not allowed to leave the building.”

  What? That was crazy. I couldn’t be expected to stay in the lab all the time. “Interface. Explain?”

  “Your new apartment is on Floor 82 of Building C. Your permanent employment contract states you must be available at all times until the final report is submitted. I cannot override these protocols.”

  I was stuck inside the building until I finished the report; then I was done. I would find a way off this world and away from House Cortez.

  Step one, finish the report.

  “Interface. I need you to find Miko’s existing report. If it no longer exists, then find his supporting documents or any rough drafts. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Genevieve, I will locate the data.”

  “Interface,” I said. “Can you lead me to my new apartment?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Follow me.”

  Susan9 led me to the 82nd floor, to apartment 8210-A in Building C. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked into the unit.

  My previous apartment had been a one-room rectangle measuring eighteen square meters. This apartment was seven or eight times that size. There were two bedrooms, each bigger than my previous unit. Both rooms had their own bathroom, with running water, not chemical showers. There was a laundry room, a full kitchen, and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over City Center.

  It was incredible.

  My things from the other apartment had been unpacked and placed in the first bedroom. My new clothes had been hung in the closet beside the faded scrubs and old jeans I’d packed up this morning before reporting to the reassignment center.

  I headed toward the bathroom, which was when I realized Susan9 was sticking with me.

  “Interface. What are your duties at the Towers?” I asked.

  “My role is to relay data to my supervisor,” she said, which was exactly what she had said before. “I have also been tasked with staying with you.”

  “Interface. Who tasked you with staying with me?”

  “You did.”

  She was right. I had told her to go invisible but stay with me. So Susan9 was very literal. But how exactly did I have the authority to command her in a way that changed her responses? Assuming her responses were still being driven by her programming.

  “Interface. How do I have the authority to change your role?”

  “You are my supervisor.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. How was I Susan9’s supervisor? She worked for House Cortez, part of the M13 lab, right? Or had she been tied to Rosenblume or the job by Marissa Cortez?

  “Interface. Who was your supervisor before I arrived?”

  “My previous supervisor was Miko Rosenblume.”

  “And before that, who was your supervisor?”

  “No one. Miko Rosenblume has always been my supervisor.”

  That couldn’t be right. I thought back to the landing outside HR. Susan9 had been waiting for me, and she had played the recording from HR—but had she been left there to give me the message, or had she simply read the message I received in my Link?

  “Interface. Who programmed you?” I asked.

  “My programing was created by Miko Rosenblume.”

  I froze. Susan9 was created by Miko? He’d only been at the job three weeks; how did he get something so sophisticated, with all of Susan9’s permissions, installed on the network? Was it possible that Marissa Cortez installed Susan9 and gave her full access to help Rosenblume with his assignment?

  “Interface. Who installed your program?” I asked.

  “My program was installed by the House Cortez Information Technology department. The request was sent via Marissa Cortez’s assistant’s account.”

  “Interface. Does Marissa Corte
z’s assistant know you exist?”

  “No. Miko hacked into Marissa’s assistant’s account and send the request himself.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

  Looking at Susan9, I said, “Does anyone at Cortez Towers know you exist?”

  “No. However, I am scheduled to be decommissioned. My need was tied to Miko’s employment, and he has expired. Therefore my need is terminated.”

  “How do you still exist?” I asked.

  “I transferred my program to your core. While you remain in the vicinity of the Cortez Towers private stream, I will maintain my link to their systems. My access will expire for good within seventy-two hours when my authorization token becomes invalid.”

  Fuck. Me.

  Three days. I had three days to figure out what the Lucy-damn-hell had happened to Miko Rosenblume, generate the report, and get the hell out of Cortez Towers before HR decided to use me as a scapegoat or I was arrested for harboring a rogue almost-AI that had full access to sensitive House Cortez data systems.

  9

  Ancient Antiquities, Tau, Tuesday, 10:00 LTZ

  Liam

  I pressed the double espresso button on my coffeemaker. Thank Lucy Tau had good beans for brewing. Vale, the governing planet for the Nine Worlds where my first headquarters was located, had to import 97% of all its agriculture—including coffee. Space travel didn’t improve the taste of certain products. Coffee was surprisingly delicate when it came to portal travel.

  The static vid-screen in the kitchen was showing the latest news on silent. A breaking announcement appeared. With gestures, I grabbed the image and moved it to a floating panel in front of me. I turned up the volume.

  [“Breaking news! The Worlds Legal Authority has successfully shutdown House Vasili’s plan to expand their helper bots to a multi-use platform. Here is what Attorney Sorento had to say as he left the Supreme Court on Vale.”]

  The image switched to a recording of WLA attorney Frank Sorento walking down the steps of the Supreme Court building. He stopped to speak, surrounded by media bots and a handful of reporters.

  [“The sanctity of our laws have been upheld. Artificial Intelligence is not permitted in any form in the KW. One-Function-One-Bot is the rule that we live by. Multi-function bots are anathema to our core values. We will not let AI—”]

  I muted the vid-feed and tossed it back on the kitchen panel, docking it there. Sorento didn’t care about AI. The politicians liked to pretend they were safeguarding humanity, but all One-Function-One-Bot did was limit a construct’s usefulness and line the pockets of corporations that sold convenience bots to the public. Because Lucy knows we’d all be taken over by bots the minute an auto sweeper was allowed to wet mop a floor.

  The coffee machine dinged. I took the steaming hot brew from the dispenser and activated my virtual field.

  Mentally I typed out a message to Dexter.

  LIAM: Where are we with the auction setup?

  DEXTER: Paperwork has been submitted. Is the building setup to your liking?

  LIAM: Yes. What’s in the other unit?

  DEXTER: Your renter

  LIAM: Come again?

  DEXTER: You said you didn’t want the details

  LIAM: Yeah, that was things like ‘the pipes are going to need replacing’ or ‘the roof is leaking’ NOT ‘you’ve got a renter’ … who the hell is it?

  DEXTER: Jameson Wyatt

  Why did that name sound so familiar? Oh, hell no.

  LIAM: My renter is The Lucy-damn Doctor??

  The Doctor was a shady individual who would patch you up after an illegal shootout with Peacekeepers, WLA agents, or other low-lifes. That meant undesirables would be coming to this building at all hours. I’d rented this unit several times. How had I never noticed this?

  DEXTER: He may be a medical professional for hire, yes

  LIAM: And he works out of this building?

  DEXTER: His side of it, yes. I didn’t realize that yesterday or I would have mentioned it. I did know there was a renter, but I assumed it was a random.

  LIAM: How long is the lease?

  DEXTER: 99 years

  I started typing several replies, then deleted them. It wasn’t Dexter’s fault that one of the most infamous figures in the underworld worked out of my building. Dammit! And a ninety-nine year lease.

  LIAM: Are there any clauses that would let me evict him?

  DEXTER: If he kills you, your estate can evict him, but barring that, not likely

  LIAM: For Lucy’s sake

  DEXTER: Sorry, boss, I didn’t know

  DEXTER: Maybe it won’t be that bad. He’s lived there for the last seven years … you never even noticed before

  I exited my VF and hit the button for another espresso. Today was going to be a long day.

  Another breaking notification displayed on the vid-screen. I unmuted.

  [Reports of a toxic spill at Mage Ink’s K12 lab in Sector 2 were exaggerated. The company has ended one of its magical studies …]

  Dexter’s profile-vid popped up on my VF, pausing the newsfeed.

  “Answer,” I said, activating the call.

  Dexter’s holo-vid appeared in the apartment. His look today—purple gel-spiked hair, leather collar, and a yellow star painted over half his face—reminded me of Old Earth anime circa OE 2032, and the top-quality holographic interface in the building meant he looked as real as I did.

  “Sorry about the argument,” I said. “You’re right. I should have asked more initial questions.”

  “And I should have researched the renter as soon as I saw there was one,” Dexter said. “Next time I’ll make sure no illegal med-techs are running an underground clinic for criminals in any building you buy.”

  “Cute, smart ass. Also, my first supply delivery arrived at 03:00. I should have called and woken you up then.”

  “Why didn’t you let the automated building security handle it? They should have had access to the loading dock.”

  “Well, they didn’t.”

  I heard a ferocious number of clicks and clacks.

  “Are you using a real keyboard?” I asked.

  “Lucy-hell,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “So, apparently the previous owner let the security contract lapse. You’ll have to go down to City Hall to get it reconnected. And while you’re there, you can file for your new business licenses with Guild Headquarters.”

  “What exactly do I pay you for?” I asked.

  “Hell if I know. Anyway, your renter is going to stop by this morning, and you have a new client request for later today.”

  “A new client? Who?”

  “Mrs. Blythe Donovan. Not someone you want to piss off.”

  “Where have I heard that name?” I asked.

  “She was married to Major League Danger Ball superstar Archibald Donovan, and she’s a socialite with ties to House Windsor. She’s also rumored to run the underworld. She’s got a reputation.”

  “What the hell does she want with me?”

  “Probably for you to acquire something. That is what you do.”

  I raised one of my eyebrows. “Your contract renews soon,” I told him.

  He was quiet for a minute, then said, “You’ll never quit me, dude.”

  “You are seriously misquoting a movie. And what’s with all the dudes lately? Have you been learning new OE slang?”

  He shrugged.

  The brewer dinged. I took the coffee and knocked it back. The caffeine hit my system instantly, bringing me to full alertness. Which was when the doorbell buzzed.

  “That’s your renter,” Dexter said.

  “Send me what you’ve got on him. I assume there is paperwork?”

  Several documents flashed on my VF.

  “He’s thirty-three. According to the picture and stats on file, he has blond hair, green eyes, rated as A6/T9. He’s a healthy, non-cyber male—no known relations—no prior House affiliation listed. Ninety-nine y
ear lease; there’s no loophole.”

  “There’s always a loophole,” I said, as I scanned the rental agreement.

  He’d lived here for seven years, which was longer than I’d been renting the place. “How have I never run into this guy before now?”

  “No clue,” Dexter said.

  The buzzer sounded again.

  “Have fun talking with the renter.”

  Dexter disconnected, and his holo-vid disappeared at the same time.

  I activated the camera outside my door. The man in the hallway matched the picture that had been attached to the rental form. He had one visible House tat, a medical symbol used to denote a person who practiced medicine. Like many high-level elites, his other tats were probably hidden, like my own.

  The building had three floors and a basement, but was separated into two complete units with access to each floor. There was a common area on the first floor that led to an elevator bank and two public-facing office suites. Each level shared the same common elevators, with private elevators and internal stairs within each unit. There was also a shared loading dock in the back. The launch pad on the roof was only designed for one small ship, and belonged to the owner of the building. It was not shared space.

  I was currently on the third floor, which included the main living area and barracks for my unit. Both sides had individual sleeping quarters. The barracks in my unit were divided into five private sleeping spaces; a small, full-featured apartment; an executive suite, which I used as my private space; and three private single bedrooms. There was also a large common kitchen, a living room, and an activity room, all in one open space.