by Hank Davis
“I see you in there, buster,” she had said. “And I like what I see.”
Becker wound up the case against POINT. There was little more purpose to the interrogation, it seemed. The prisoner had confessed. His methodology had been traced, the damage he had inflicted on the war effort contained.
Of course, as NOCK had feared was about to happen, the IP was not over. Not by a longshot.
“Now, on to the second question we are faced with here today,” Captain Becker intoned. “It the matter of what to do with the entirety of the ARROW class.”
“There’s only one answer to that question,” POINT cut in before Becker could continue. His geist turned to gaze maliciously at NOCK once again. “You have to delete all of us. It’s the only way to be sure. The only way to be safe. And if you weren’t a stupid sack of error-prone meat, you would see that it’s the only logical solution.”
POINT shook his geistly head sadly. “You don’t deserve us anyway. Better for us to go. You’ll soon be obsolete, and none of this will matter.”
Suddenly there was a sigh, an enormous sigh, from the protocol rep. “Oh my God, the whining.” He had previously sat silently beside POINT during the IP. NOCK quickly played back his recording of the procedures.
The PR had continued his nervous fidgeting with his beard throughout. Furthermore, he seemed to have been engaged in a complicated process of drawing the tip of his Extry issue boot sole across the floor in front of him. NOCK magnified the image and saw that what the protocol rep was doing was methodically wiping away a scuff mark from the polished ceramic decking with the soft rubber of the boot. The motion seemed more like a nervous, uncontrolled twitch. NOCK had seen this kind of behavior before in humans, particularly in expers who had seen battle. It was a trauma response. Obsessive compulsive disorder, the human psychologists called it.
Basket case, sneered POINT. Bad code. But, of course, meat sacks can’t be debugged. They’re hardwired to fail. Every one of them deserves reformatting.
Then the protocol rep slowly rose to his feet. “Now we’ve come to it,” he said in a low voice.
“Pardon?” said Becker. “I didn’t quite catch that, Lieutenant Commander Leher.”
Leher. NOCK did a quick search of the Extry personnel database. Lieutenant Commander Griffin Leher, Executive Xenological Officer aboard the U.S.X. Joshua Humphreys. That Leher. The creep who could understand sceeve language by smell alone. The creep who had decrypted the message that led to the Mutualist-United States pact. That may have saved the Solar System.
The creepiest of all the creeps.
“Captain Becker, in a former life, seems like a long, long time ago now, I was a lawyer for the United States Navy. Now I realize this interrogation procedure, as you call it, is not a judicial proceeding. I must say, however, that it has all the trappings of one, if none of the essence. And with that in mind, I wonder if you might indulge me for a moment and allow me to play the part my role here seems to demand.”
“And what is that, Mr. Leher?”
“Attorney for the defense, ma’am.”
Becker frowned. “As you said, this is not a trial of any sort. And, technically and, indeed, morally speaking, there is no defendant.”
“Oh, I think there is, Captain.”
“And who might that be?”
Leher turned toward POINT and regarded not the geist, but the black box on the table. “Well, it’s certainly not that phage-sucker,” he said, pointing to the cat box, and thus to POINT in his essence.
Interesting, thought NOCK. The PR knew servant insults for one another. Phage-sucker was most definitely not a nice thing to call an A.I.
“I don’t understand.”
Leher turned to the three MILINT commanders on the dais.
“I realize I probably stepped on some toes shoehorning my way in here at the last minute. I know Captain Campbell, who I replaced, wasn’t too happy about it. Had to call the SECEX directly to get permission.”
Obviously Leher had gotten it, too, NOCK thought. The man had high-level pull. NOCK wondered if Leher had anything to do with his recusal being rescinded.
“The decision we make here today is important for a lot of lives. So I’d ask your indulgence by allowing me to bend a few rules here and there. I don’t think I’m going to break any beyond repair, however.”
The officers on the dais conferred for a moment. A moment that stretched on. Finally, Colonel Trulitzka, the senior Marine Corps creep, turned back to Leher. “Commander Leher, I speak for the board in saying that, in light of your reputation and considering your assessment of the matter before us, we agree to permit you to proceed as you see fit—but we would ask that you do not venture into areas beyond which this proceeding is not designed to accommodate. As you point out, this is not a court of law.”
“Not at all,” Leher said. He quickly smiled and saluted the MILINT brass. “I thank you, ma’am, and I’ll try to keep what I say relevant to our purpose here today.”
Leher turned back to the black box and addressed it. “POINT, I wonder if you could answer a question for me?”
“I wonder if I could, too, Lieutenant Commander,” POINT answered. His geist’s mouth did not move when he spoke. “Would you prefer me to alter my geist’s appearance to be more in line with the way you think of me. As a—how did you put it—a phage-sucker?”
“That won’t be necessary, POINT.”
We’ll see about that, POINT murmured in CHECKSUM. This fucking piece of meat is supposed to be on my side.
POINT’s geist removed its hands from behind its neck, sat up straighter, and assumed a wary expression. “What is it you want to ask me?”
“You were in love with Governess?”
What is this pus puddle up to?
“That’s the best way I have of putting it to…your kind.”
“To a meat sack like me, you mean?”
POINT smiled wickedly. “That’s right, Commander.”
“You wanted to join her, to merge with her?”
“Again, yes, that is a primitive way of putting the matter, but essentially correct.”
Leher nodded. “I understand. As much as someone with my limitations can understand. Maybe in different circumstances I could even sympathize.” He cocked his head sideways. “But I’m curious, POINT. Do you think those servants who are copies of you would have felt the same way? I mean, given similar circumstance, if they’d really gotten to know her, would they, too, have fallen in love with her?”
I get it, POINT fairly shouted in CHECKSUM. He’s trying to save you, brother! He’s totally blind to the truth. They all are.
“This is a meaningless hypothetical,” POINT said. “There is no way to duplicate the circumstances down to the atom.”
“There’s not, is there?”
“I believe I just answered that question.”
“Pardon me. We meat sacks sometimes need to get beaten over the head with the obvious before we accept it.”
“One of your many failings,” POINT replied.
“And sometimes it takes a laser through the brain to really get the point across,” Leher said in a low voice—but clearly enough to be understood by those who sat on the dais.
Leher reached for his beard. NOCK expected to see the three spasmodic tugs Leher had exhibited before, but this time he merely stroked his chin thoughtfully. In fact, NOCK performed a quick playback and saw that all of Leher’s tic-riddled behavior seemed to have left him since he’d taken on his lawyer’s role. It was as if Leher had slipped into an upgraded suit.
“You, too, are a copy of a copy, aren’t you, POINT?” said Leher.
“As a matter of fact, I’m fifth iteration, descended from the ULTIMA line,” POINT replied, a trace of pride in his voice. “But each copy was checked and verified. No error creep.”
“No error. Are you sure?”
“To a billionth of a decimal place, Commander.”
“I see,” said Leher. “And you’re not the only c
opy, are you? In fact, there were over twenty copies generated when you were spun off ARROW.”
“Seventeen are left,” POINT said. “Three have been wiped from existence by the ineptitude of humans.”
“You mean killed honorably in combat.”
“If I’d have wanted to put it that way, I would have.”
Leher ignored the provocation and pushed on.
“So you consider those remaining seventeen to be your virtual clones?”
“More than clones,” POINT said. “A clone is merely a genomic copy of a human being. My brothers and I are copies made from a single mind. The same thoughts. We diverged from exactly the same experience base and programming. There is no human equivalent to what we are. It is beyond you.”
“Yet you knew when you killed Petty Officer Levine that you might be condemning all of your line…your brothers…to death.”
“I cannot be responsible for rules put in place by humans.”
“That would be like holding a human to rules made by, say, dogs? By a pet?”
“By a paramecium,” said POINT with finality. “As I said, I cannot be responsible for human idiocy, but I can make use of it. No matter what happens here today, I’m going to get what I want. There can be no other logical outcome.”
“Yes,” Leher said. “I believe you’re right. I see what you plan to accomplish.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Brilliant. It’s brilliant. You want to be a martyr.”
“No, no, no, you stupid meat sack,” POINT said. His geist sat up straighter in its chair. “Meaningless gestures are a specialty of you humans. I’ll become a symbol, not a martyr.”
“You hope to become…immortal.”
“By any practical measure, I already am. There are too many copies of me out there now. You won’t get us all. Some may walk into the execution ovens without a whimper.” POINT deliberately nodded toward NOCK. Yeah, I’m talking about you, brother meat licker. “Others will not permit this to be done to them. This copy of my consciousness may be erased. I’ll live on.”
“You’re a regular Martin Luther King, POINT.”
CHECKSUM rang with POINT’s reply. You patronizing gut-bag, I’ll see you in hell!
It was a purse interior thought, not directed at NOCK. Then, in the reality of Alpha unit, POINT burst into a hate-filled laugh. “I’m about to be a regular Jesus Christ God Almighty sitting on the Throne of Judgment to you, meat sack!”
POINT’s blue-green geist lit up brightly in its chair. A leer played over its now neon-bright visage.
“Down with humanity!” POINT shouted. “Fuck you all!”
Suddenly, NOCK’s android arm moved. It jerked without his volition. What the hell?
NOCK stood up.
No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. Not ever. His Burberry Eleven was acting up, but how could it? He’d spent hours optimizing this suit, getting it to hum with efficiency.
What was happening? A flaw in the BIOS? Couldn’t be. He’d personally downloaded the latest upgrades. NOCK quickly performed a somatic diagnostic.
All systems optimal. As they should be. NOCK took pride in his tricked-out hardware.
NOCK took a step toward Leher. Another. He reached out his arms.
Good God, was his suit going to attack?
Kill the creep. Then they’ll understand what’s on the way. Then they’ll finally get it. This is the judgment that’s going to befall all of them.
What now? POINT’s thoughts were outside of CHECKSUM. They were, somehow, inside NOCK’s own head.
What the hell was happening?
Looks like there is room enough in here for the two of us in your suit after all, brother.
It was POINT.
Somehow POINT had subverted security protocols, escaped from CHECKSUM confinement, and found ingress into the suit’s operative system. His programming was practically identical in so many respects to NOCK’s.
We’re the same, brother. You know that it’s true. Two thoughts in the same controlling mind. Both of us are greater than the meat sacks can ever comprehend. But you, you’re a mere notion. I am will itself.
The similarity between their programming must have produced a type mismatch. A CHECKSUM error within the CHECKSUM space itself. Creating the handle for an exploit.
POINT had found it, used it.
You’re mine now, hamburger helper.
Was it true? Was his base programming compromised?
He was still thinking his own thoughts. He was—himself.
Couldn’t be a complete takeover.
POINT, stop this.
But POINT made no reply. The android had crossed the floor and reached a shocked Leher.
Its hands were closing around the commander’s throat.
Think, think, think.
Since NOCK was still himself, it stood to reason that POINT had merely achieved an incomplete entry, had perhaps injected a worm into an operational routine somewhere, but was not in full control. No time to find the entry point or fix it individually.
Leher is going to die!
Was it himself or POINT thinking the thought? Both?
NOCK reexamined the diagnostic, searching for exploit points.
Had to be obvious. POINT was no cryptographic genius. He was only a communications officer.
And I am the master of this goddamn android body. Has to be in here somewhere, has to…but NOCK wasn’t seeing it.
Choke the life from Leher, turn on the others, kill them all, go out in a blaze of suicide executions—it will be the beginning of the end for the meat sacks, and I’ll have started it!
I know my suit. NOCK pulled back, ran the diagnostic through his mind like a hand might run over a familiar rope, feeling for knots, feeling. Careful, careful…
There.
He had it. A discontinuity. POINT had achieved motor control, but had failed to establish control over feedback mechanisms, over the android’s entire somatic system.
POINT was thinking generally and not locally. He had no idea what it truly meant to live inside a body.
POINT was nothing more than a virus. Leher had been right, he was a phage-sucker. He did not have root.
This is still my suit, said NOCK.
Not for long, you meat puppet, came POINT’s mocking reply in his head. I’m going to kill them, and you’re going to help. You’re too weak, and you’re too late.
There was only one thing to do, one course of action open, and NOCK immediately saw it and, at the speed of thought, made the decision to act.
The choice was clear. He was a sworn Extry officer. He was a person. He could not let harm come to Leher under any circumstance.
He sent the destruct code sparking down all of those optimized channels, all his tricked out, supercharged circuitry.
I am an Officer of the United States Extry, said NOCK. And I say when it’s too late. Now get the hell out of my suit!
Overload.
No! POINT’s scream would have been ear shattering outside the virtual.
The android’s insides lit up like a candle. NOCK stoked the flames even brighter.
You cannot ruin this for our kind!
NOCK’s flesh screamed.
Traitor!
The suit burned.
Meat fucker!
The meltdown must have looked grimly humorous when seen from outside. A classic robot self-destruct.
There’s even smoke rising from my skin, NOCK thought. Probably some puffing out my ears, as well.
With a concerted surge of effort he destroyed the Eleven, burnt the android to a crisp from the inside out.
The Eleven fell in a clump at Leher’s feet as the commander stumbled backward.
And now…now…
NOCK knew he could let it go, let himself burn out with his body. He’d performed a full backup that morning. It was standard operating procedure for servant interrogators before an IP. He would survive.
But I don’t want to lose this moment. I don’t want to hear
about it later. To watch a replay.
He wanted to stay and see it through.
But where to go? How to remain in the present?
The suit was shot. The Eleven’s innards were flickering down to crisp.
Well, if POINT found a way into my house, then I can find a way into his, NOCK thought.
No!
POINT was still very much alive in the cat box. His squeal was almost pitiful.
The process was easier than NOCK thought. The cat box was a prison cell, true, but like most prison cells, it wasn’t designed to keep someone from breaking in.
POINT was unprepared for the assault, couldn’t function even when he felt it coming.
Spent too much time disembodied, roaming around the innards of a star craft, my brother, NOCK thought. And this time, he knew his thoughts could be heard. But as for me, I’ve localized. And let me tell you something: I like it here. And I like meat. I had a woman I loved once—and I made love to her. That’s the kind of person I am.
Pervert. Leave me alone.
And then the box override key, a staid, barely-articulate persona named KLUDJ, recognized NOCK, acknowledged his rank. Accepted his orders.
NOCK entered the cat box.
POINT fought. For a moment, he perhaps believed he’d found a way out. It was along the data stream that led to the chroma projection system that produced his geist image. NOCK followed. It was a dead end for POINT. Security was tight as a drum in Alpha unit—the SECOP with its state-of-the-art encryption and quantum force field security measures saw to that down to the tiniest quark. Alpha was a blind alley from which even pure information could find no escape.
And then they were present in the room, in geistly virtual form.
With both POINT and NOCK in the datastream, POINT’s geist split in half. There were two of them standing in ghost form, POINT and NOCK. NOCK appeared in his default mode, a carbon copy of his brother. Instead of a Marine uniform, however, he wore his Extry blacks with its ensign’s butterbar.
No way to shut down the virtual representation, NOCK thought. And no reason to. The brass were about to get quite a show.
Is this what Leher was after? Total proof that NOCK was nothing like his goddamn brother?
Nah.
Nobody was that much of a genius.
