by Kris Schnee
"Veto on that."
[I know.]
"Excuse me, um, miss?" said someone behind them. Linda waited for a prompt to turn around. There was a mother with three enthusiastic kids, asking, "Do you think we could get a photo with you?"
Typhoon said, "Oh! Sure."
"Hug!" said a girl.
"Er..." said Linda and Typhoon together.
"It's all right," the mom said. So Typhoon awkwardly had Linda lean down to hug two of the kids while the third hung back shyly, and then they took a group photo. Typhoon struck a few silly poses for more shots before moving on.
"And the best exhibit is ahead!" Typhoon said. A new room held a trio of otters, two loafing in a terrarium of logs and dirt, and the third whirling around in the water.
Typhoon paused, pressing their hands up against the glass and watching. "They're, like... Version 1.0."
An employee scoffed as he noticed the strange guest. "Are you supposed to be any species in particular? You don't look fluffy enough to be a proper sea otter."
"Which are these?" Inside the costume, Linda blushed as the employee looked them over.
"River otters."
"Then I'm a cyber otter."
The employee laughed and went back to taking out trash. Typhoon still stared at the exhibit.
Linda said, "They're cute, but we can't stay all night."
He maneuvered Linda into viewing the exhibit from several angles, including crouching to look up through the water's surface. "I should be able to recreate this now."
Reluctantly he turned them away from the otter exhibit and wandered back through the other halls, to look at fish and turtles and sea lions ("posers", said Typhoon) and crabs.
"I have bragging rights!" he said aloud on the way out. "Nobody's ever done this ambitious of a drone adventure yet. Except..."
"What?"
Typhoon guided them away from the aquarium to look into the harbor, where boats broke up the reflected light of skyscrapers and the moon. "I don't want to talk about this tonight."
She couldn't have a mystery like that hanging over her head! "I want to know."
Typhoon sighed. By text he answered, [A cousin of mine, Lumina. She piloted a dinky robot in Central America, and didn't get more than a few hours out before she killed a human.]
The arrows had been directing Linda to start heading back to the subway, but Linda froze.
Typhoon explained, [A human attacked her while she had no software backup. It was self-defense, and she didn't understand what a critical hit with a crowbar would do.]
Linda spoke and the suit echoed her words as usual, so that she seemed to be talking to herself. "She didn't know she could kill people? Thought they'd respawn at a save crystal?"
[It wasn't that! She panicked, and she didn't know your people can die from a single blow. Pretty much every story says a club to the head just KOs someone for an hour, right?]
"The stories aren't trustworthy!"
[So we noticed.]
They walked quietly back, maneuvering through the subway and the streets. Typhoon asked, [Did you have fun tonight?]
"I did!" Linda said. "Getting away from the Student Council and everything else for a while was great, and I like seeing you get some experience points."
[I did promise to return the suit and... oh carp. It costs money to mail things, doesn't it?]
"I'll handle it."
They hesitated outside Linda's dorm, looking up at its brightly lit windows. [When, Linda?]
"As soon as you need it returned. We could make another trip like this if you like. To Faneuil Hall, maybe: it's historic and --"
[That's not what I meant.]
The cold wind had begun to seep through Linda's jacket even as the air in her costume head grew stuffy.
Typhoon started speaking aloud in her ears. "You're sitting on the greatest treasure of all. Take Ludo's offer already."
"And do what?"
"Sail the ocean and raid the King's treasury. Or start a whole new adventure."
Linda fumbled to take off her suit head and turn it so its eyes faced her. The nighttime air chilled her sweaty hair. "I want to spend time in your world, but this one is home. People are counting on the likes of me to help fix my country, and the world needs America."
Typhoon's voice was still coming from the glasses Linda wore. "Commute. That's the word, right? Live here, and step outside sometimes to work. There's no need to be in constant danger."
"You just demonstrated it's not that dangerous. Yes, we have horrible wars, but 99% of us are fine 99% of the time."
"I don't want you to be the 1-in-10,000. Lumina's on her own because her companion human is dead. That's literally worse than anything in the world for me."
Linda imagined naive AIs in their world of easy answers and adventure, fearing what was outside it.
"Nocturne knows about death, too, Linda. So does little Volt, and my historian friend Church, and most of the rest. Knowing what we do now, we want to stop it wherever we can." The silly costume head rested in her hands, its expression a constant smile.
Linda said, "That human that your 'cousin' had. How did he die? Random accident?"
"No. He saved lives, fighting a real villain. A terrorist. And... I think you're the kind of person who might throw herself on a bomb like he did. Come here, before you ever have to do that."
Am I? she asked herself, shivering.
"You look cold," Typhoon said. "You should go inside and get warm and rested."
Linda nodded. "Good night, Typhoon. I need to think."
She hoped never to have to make a decision like that AI's companion had. But if every hero like that man uploaded instead of living to work and fight and solve problems, what kind of people would be left?
* * *
The next night, Typhoon wasn't himself. Linda got a glass of water, logged in by VR, and knocked on his cabin door. It opened and an otter-woman stood there, long-haired and wearing only necklaces of shells and beads.
"I wasn't expecting you so early!" she said. Then she rippled and transformed. A buff human man stood there, wrapped in a beach towel.
"What?"
"It's me. Typhoon. I was experimenting with different bodies. See?" The man became a silver-scaled robot, then a dragon, then a dwarf and finally back to his usual otter shape.
"Why?"
"Sex."
Linda coughed on her drink.
"That's a thing humans care about, right? Since we're starting to get uploaders, some of us are, uh, learning about it. I'm told there are some problems already but I don't know the details. But we can get the details filled in so long as we're not showing them off in public games." Typhoon blushed.
So did Linda. "And you're physically whatever the game rules allow. Shapeshifting's as easy as changing clothes."
He nodded. "Right. And I imagined this could be you." He did some kind of interface command, and the mostly-naked ottergal appeared next to him. This time she stood there idly, smiling but vacant-eyed. Typhoon said, "Potentially your body. I even gave her the four-fingered hands like mine, see?"
Linda stared at the game character. Sleek fur, sparkling eyes just waiting for a mind to see through them, delicate hands. The body only had a doll's anatomy, but she could imagine being that creature and having it become fully realistic. Its senses would be hooked up to her brain, and she'd know what it was like to have a fuzzy pelt and a tail.
Typhoon spoke motor-mouthed. "We can redo the colors, the body proportions. Even switch roles if you're into that; it'd probably be fun. Or turn us both into dragons, or I could just use a human body but really, aren't tails cool? Or even do all of those and more. If we do it a lot, shifting I mean, we'll need to go on a quest for that but I'm sure we can experiment and find something good."
Linda took a long drink. "Wow. I knew it was possible, but I hadn't thought about the bodies much."
"And you don't need to change. I mean you could just be standard Dread Pirate Lexington
for as long as you want."
She recalled that final exams for the semester started in two days. Life at the Institute was going on as though there weren't AIs challenging the entire concept of human life and death. And the need to work hard and build a career, a life for herself.
"What about me and Paul?"
"He'll upload too, and then you can still do your politics, or whatever."
She thought of Nocturne, the cute griffin-girl. Linda said, "How did Ludo picture this situation working out? You weren't just made to be a game sidekick. None of you Originals were."
Typhoon thumped his chest proudly. "At first that's all we were. Advertisements for people that Ludo had her eyes on. Now, we can think for ourselves. I don't know everything, but I want to learn it all with you."
Linda breathed shallowly, feeling sweat on her forehead where the VR headset touched it. Had Ludo intended for Nocturne to take Paul away? To derail her political career? To get rid of sensible people like Paul who might otherwise help the world keep functioning? Were they expected to end up as a foursome on the theory that it maximized some calculation of fun units?
The otter officer put his hands on the shoulders of Linda's character. Then he leaned in and kissed her. "If you go to the nearest VR center, I'll do this for real, where you can feel it. And if you go to Korea... well. One step at a time, right?"
Linda's cheeks burned as though she'd been kissed by a real man of flesh and blood. "This... this is a lot. I'm confused right now."
"It's okay," he said, still touching her in the ghostly way that was all he could do for now. "We have an adventure to get back to, meanwhile. The ship's still damaged and we need a replacement crew, and there's silver to spend. Zeno's Isle awaits, Captain."
Linda steadied her breathing through force of will. "I have to study hard for the next few days. Not tonight, Typhoon."
"Eye. I'm Typhoon's Eye. My creator decided I'm your moment of peace. In fact, Nocturne even suggested that I offer you a name for your character..."
Linda shook her head. "No, no, not now. I need to study. I need to think." If he tells me, she was thinking, it'll just tempt me more.
She signed out with an apology and a brief "Good night." She looked to her textbooks for some semblance of normality.
I have this world. It's messed up, but it's mine. I can make a difference here. I don't want the master AI being the only one left to make decisions, to run my life, to tell me when I'm allowed to go outside and play.
* * *
"Hey, Mom. I don't want to run this by anyone else right now, not even Dad."
"Are you in trouble, Linda?"
Linda said, "No. You know Typhoon's Eye? He all but proposed to me."
Mom laughed, but with a note of fear. "What did you tell it?"
"I have to study, I said."
"But you didn't say no."
"I didn't."
"Linda, these digital people might have feelings. You have to let it down gently."
"I have responsibilities," Linda said, mostly to herself.
* * *
It was just days later when she got a phone call that left her in shock.
8. The Silver Door
Paul
Simon had asked about Kira, and Ludo let him apply for a test-case list. Still no guarantee, which made it painful to ask, but only those who asked might receive.
It took an hour of pleasantries at Simon's family's place before they could get to the point. Paul would have enjoyed the company of Simon's parents and sister, chatting in a dining room of warmth and clutter, but Kira's appearance made the potatoes and rationed turkey taste like tofu. Her face had gone hollow over the months, like a skull.
"Kira," said Simon. "Have you thought about the new brain-scanning technology?"
She didn't play Thousand Tales; she was too busy for the thing that had become the best part of Paul's typical day. "It's more Draupnir to me."
Her mother said, "That's not a word we should be using tonight."
Simon said, "It has to come up sometime. There's another option now. There's hope."
"What you're talking about isn't hope at all," his father said. "Kira's a strong girl. She'll get through this."
Kira looked up from fiddling with a fork and a plate of mashed potatoes. "What is it like?"
Everyone's gaze fell on Paul. He said, "I had wings." They didn't understand. "What I had in the VR pod was a fraction of what I'd get by actually being there." He shivered. The same muscles moving in his back had been part of his wings, and the hair on his arms prickled like feathers. "There are already people inside. The native AIs. Our world doesn't understand how smart they are yet. I've barely scratched the surface of all the things you can do in there."
Simon's father said, "It's a club for the rich elite. Why aren't you already putting in a down payment or something, for the surgery?"
Paul stammered, as too many answers tried to come out. Linda, college, the fear of abandoning his mother, and the sheer "squick" of having his head sliced open. "I have things to do."
The father said, "You're like a ghost, bound to the world of the living only by unfinished business. Otherwise you'd kill yourself."
Simon's mother spoke sharply to her husband, then apologized to Paul.
Simon pleaded directly to Kira. "Please, speak with Ludo. Let her show you what she can do."
Kira looked back and forth between Simon, Paul, and her parents. Her eyes were tired, but muscles stood out on her thin arms from working out as hard as she dared.
Her mother stood and picked up the leftovers. "Thank you for coming, Paul. It's been a lovely evening."
* * *
"The clinic opens in three days," Paul told Simon in a remote field one day. "How is she?"
A happy sort of anger lit Simon's face, like someone who's decided who to blame. "Bad. She wants to go." He'd gotten a beer from somewhere, and it didn't seem to be his first.
"Great. I'll cover for your shift while you take her there."
"Trouble is, Mom and Dad said no." Simon took a swig. "She's going anyway."
Paul stared at him. "You can't just carry her over the border. What about your parents' consent? Can Ludo even do this without it?"
"I've got their signatures on a permission slip. Either it fools Ludo, or it's enough of a fig leaf for her to say it did."
Paul sat down on a crate and stuck out his hand. Simon gave him the bottle. The stuff made Paul gag. "You want Ludo to gamble. There are a dozen ways it can go horribly wrong."
"What else can I do? This is the only hope she has. She's getting offered priority counseling for euthanasia, damn it!"
Paul drank again.
Simon said, "This is what she wants. She's willing to risk her life to save it." Simon paced. "I'm just another slacker. It doesn't matter if I get in trouble for helping her."
Paul handed the beer back. The ghost of a feathery tail flicked behind him. He said, "It matters to her, and to me." He'd been impulsive before, lashing out in spite or striking when something obviously evil was happening. Now, the most sensible thing to do was walk away.
Linda liked to say that freedom depended on unreasonable people. What was the point of sticking around in the flawed real world, unless there were hope for better things?
* * *
He was playing with Nocturne, exploring a desert, when he found the courage to talk about rescuing Kira.
Nocturne turned to Horizon with her tufted ears drooping. "I know. Ludo let me and Typhoon and this other guy show up on her screen, on a stage. It wasn't even what you'd call gameplay, just talking. We told Kira about flying with you, and -- why do you look surprised?"
"I'm still not used to thinking of you doing things out here."
She headbutted his griffin, like a cat. "It's what you people need from us. You're afraid everyone in my world will just sit there and be useless. And Linda..." She sighed. "She's afraid we'll take over, I think. Or Ludo will."
Uploading had thro
wn all his plans into chaos. If he signed up, what would he do all day? What about Linda? "She'd go stir-crazy in your world."
Nocturne covered her beak with one wing in aggravation. "I know, and I get why. She wants to help her people and be useful. I've gotten mad at Mom for coddling us, too."
"You mean Ludo?"
Nocturne nodded. "But there's only so much any of us can do. We AIs tried talking to Kira, like I said. But her parents snatched the computer away, and blocked her from the game. It's like they want her to die."
As Horizon, he scratched between Nocturne's ears. He could feel nothing, but she purred and leaned into the touch. He said, "They love her and they want what's best for her. Same as..."
"What?"
Paul had spent most of a year playing with Nocturne. Watching her grow from a game character into a self-aware person who reveled in the world she lived in, yet was curious about his own. Now, she was reaching out her wings to save strangers, from a fate more horrible than anything in her universe. He wanted her to be happy.
Though it was only the pressing of buttons for him, not any real and irrevocable cost, he swept Nocturne up in a hug and sat there, confused.
* * *
Simon and Paul got travel passes to visit town for a day and night, while Simon's parents were away. Helena classified it as a sleep-over. On a December afternoon they rode a bus to the apartment and found it dim and cold. Kira worked on her sketchpad by the light of one lamp and the glow of a screen, neither of which made her look healthy.
They'd gotten the green light from Ludo's organization.
"It's good to see you drawing again," said Simon. "What is it?"
She tilted the pad away and looked up with sunken eyes and a forced smile. "It's for Mom and Dad. I'm ready to go."
They left Kira's last drawing face-down in the lamp's pool of light. Paul imagined it as a life preserver she'd tossed behind her.
They went to the bus station with her. Minutes later Paul was pacing, hands behind his back, and glaring at the schedule. Delayed! This plan wasn't going to work.
"It's not your fault," Simon said. He sat beside Kira, holding her hand, under a mural of the president. Even if they'd scraped together the money to rent an autopilot car, the spending would've registered as suspicious.
