Arista’s Legacy

by Deborah Cooke

  The probabilities of Gemma being in that cave and finding the memoria hidden there were, however, extraordinarily low. That made perfect sense. If she visited Regalia, Gemma would be at one of the palaces and surrounded by courtiers. She would be attending a wedding, or participating in one, not hiking through Regalia’s lower hemisphere in solitude.

  That there was any possibility of Gemma’s finding the memoria at all was puzzling.

  Was Arista’s irrationality infectious? Had the download of her memories of Regalia disrupted the Hive’s own circuits?

  There had to be another way to verify the possibilities for the future.

  The Hive considered all tools at its disposal and was reminded of the newest addition: the ShadowCaster that Arista had retrieved from Regalia. The Hive was skeptical of it, as the Hive tended to be of the reasoning powers of all biological forms, but it might provide another perspective. Cumae had, after all, been paid a considerable fee for its retrieval, and would receive a second, larger, payment upon delivery.

  Surely, no one would know if the Hive consulted it first?

  It might not even respond to the Hive, if its abilities were linked to the presence of biological organisms.

  That such an exercise might provide more data for the Hive’s own calculations—and that it probably wouldn’t be detected—made consulting the ShadowCaster the only reasonable choice to make.

  * * *

  The ShadowCaster was a strange creature, unlike any biological form the Hive had ever observed. There was no good match in the considerable banks of files. It resembled a black millipede and was coiled around the base of the vessel that contained it, but the match was seven per cent. The Hive could not discern why. It looked like a black millipede. What was hidden that the Hive couldn’t perceive?

  It was motionless. Was it dead?

  Or did it only animate in response to the presence of others?

  The Hive placed the vessel containing the ShadowCaster in a sealed chamber, the better to monitor its activity. It emanated no signs of life. There was no pulse. The vessel contained a typical mix of hydrogen and oxygen. There was, however, no sign of oxygen being consumed or carbon dioxide being created, or even the reverse. The ShadowCaster did not photosynthesize.

  Had it died?

  Was it a cyborg developed by another race? The Hive found this notion improbable but attractive. Perhaps it didn’t actually predict the future, but merely calculated probabilities of the occurrence of various incidents and chose the most likely one. The Hive would have respected that.

  But it looked dead. The readings all indicated that it was dead.

  The Hive considered the possibility that the presence of a biological life form might be required in order for the ShadowCaster to forecast the future. Perhaps it used the energy from a biological organism to give itself power, like the Sangins of Umbra. Was it true that the ShadowCaster had failed—or refused—to animate in Arcana’s presence? Perhaps it responded to the thoughts and concerns of a biological organism and remained inert without a stimulus, like the Anima of Meditorra.

  The Hive had begun to assess where a volunteer of biological origin might be located and how quickly it could be brought to the Hive—as well as the risk to the Hive of such a visit—when a ripple passed through the ShadowCaster.

  It reared up, as if standing on its hindmost legs, and stretched the length of the vessel. The monitors revealed that it suddenly had a pulse and appeared to be consuming oxygen. The Hive was intrigued. It clearly had a resting phase that allowed it to be perceived to be dead. Had it in fact died? If so, what had revived it?

  The ShadowCaster undulated as the Hive’s questions populated and methods of inquiry were developed. It pushed against the vessel as if to protest against its confinement, and as the Hive monitored the escalating rate of all bio measures, it grew wings.

  It defied every probability of behavior, which meant it had to be closely observed. The Hive was already recording every nuance of the ShadowCaster’s reaction, but more computing capacity was added.

  The ShadowCaster’s wings batted against the interior of the vessel, then morphed into claws. It scratched on the interior of the lid that sealed the vessel, and the readings redoubled.

  It wanted out.

  If it couldn’t leave the vessel alone, then it could be controlled. The Hive reviewed myths and stories of powerful creatures being given their freedom and the price they demanded, but the defenses of the chamber couldn’t be overlooked. The Hive sealed the chamber in the interest of continuing the experiment. It could, if need be, fill the chamber with toxic or numbing gas to compel the creature to return to its vessel. The Hive could also lock down the chamber, sealing it for all eternity.

  The chance of escape was very low.

  The opportunity to learn more potentially useful information was very high.

  The Hive extended robotic arms and opened the vessel with care. The ShadowCaster seemed to explode from the container and immediately became so large that it filled the chamber.

  This was so improbable as to be impossible. The Hive watched with fascination. The ShadowCaster became a dark swirl. The Hive’s memory banks found a comparable image in metal filings being pulled into place by a magnet, or a murmuration of dark birds in flight.

  Would it create an image?

  No. It created a shadow, a dark depiction that moved as if it were real. The Hive perceived that each dark dot was a possibility. They adhered together, as if certain possibilities gathered strength, then the largest one filled the chamber and presented a possibility to the Hive.

  The most probable outcome for the future as calculated by the ShadowCaster.

  The Hive watched, transfixed, as the creature showed Princess Gemma finding Arista’s memoria and opening it, proving that a low probability did not make an event impossible.

  The image was obscured, then reformed.

  The Hive was then shown the assassination of Arista, here on Cumae. The sight didn’t surprise the Hive, for by its own calculations, the chances of Arista surviving her successful theft of this item from Regalia were very low. If anything, the fact that the ShadowCaster had come to the same conclusion as the Hive confirmed the veracity of its vision or calculations.

  The Hive tested this comparison by choosing to keep Arista within the Hive indefinitely, thereby protecting her from harm. The Hive’s own calculations showed that her demise would be delayed, not avoided, by this tactic. The ShadowCaster projected the same result.

  It would be a set-back to the Hive’s development, but not a fatal one. After all, everything Arista knew had already been downloaded to the Hive’s servers. The Hive could isolate the code that had allowed her to fall in love and dissect it, perhaps using only a small part of it in another cyborg…

  The Hive had assumed that the ShadowCaster’s predictions were complete, but the dark dots assembled each other into a recognizable image again. The Hive saw the vessel containing the ShadowCaster and noted that it depicted itself as a dead black millipede within that vessel. The Hive saw that the vessel pass from the hand of one man to another. The recipient’s hand closed around the vessel, then changed to a dragon claw. The vessel disappeared into his grip and the dragon spread his wings.

  It was King Ouros of Incendium. The Hive easily matched the image to established vid images of the king.

  King Ouros took flight, splendid in his dragon form of blue and gold, and circled over a palace, which the Hive pattern-matched to that of the palace in Incendium’s capital. He soared high over the city, then landed on the roof of an old building. The computers matched it to a site known as the University for Royal Astrology. A group of men in robes awaited the king’s arrival and bowed deeply at the sight of him. The Hive noted their smiles when the king offered the ShadowCaster, and felt the relief that slid through their ranks when the vessel was in the grasp of their leader.

  The image swirled once more, becoming a dark cloud, then diving into the vessel with star
tling speed. Once again, it appeared that there was a dead black millipede at the bottom of the vessel.

  The Hive returned the stopper to the vessel.

  The ShadowCaster projected that it would go to Incendium, as a gift to the king. The Hive retrieved the recording of the last portent, considering the hand of the man who delivered the vessel.

  He had a ring on his thumb, with a tattoo beneath it. The Hive didn’t have to seek a match on that image. It was immediately identified, because the Hive had built that hand. It belonged to Acion, an simpler model of cyborg that had performed admirably and consistently in the secret ranks of Cumae’s mercenaries-for-hire.

  How susceptible were the Hive’s cyborgs to this new code propagated within Arista’s bio-electronic brain? If the Hive was to send a cyborg to Incendium on a quest, there was an opportunity to investigate this further.

  The Hive then tabulated an array of possible responses to this new information and the possible plans. It had decided upon a course of action by the time the healing tank chimed that Arista’s repairs were complete.

  * * *

  Arista awakened in the tank, as she had hundreds of times before, and was burdened by grief. Venero had been revealed and probably was dead. He’d never tease anyone again.

  Relief then flooded her circuits. She remembered Venero, and the sensation of being in love.

  The Hive had kept its promise.

  Why?

  Would this gift come at a price?

  Arista climbed out of the tank, unplugged her processor from the Hive, and wiped down her body.

  “Love,” mused the Hive, that voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. “How interesting a development.”

  “Is it?”

  “I’m not certain you realize, Arista, that you are a prototype in many ways. Your programming was modified to include the first efforts at provoking emotion in the reactions of Cumae’s cyborgs.”

  Arista did not know that, and she felt some resentment that so much of her programming was hidden from her. “When did this start?”

  “Many years ago. Such a program must be monitored closely and introduced in increments. One interesting side effect has been that you aren’t readily identified as a cyborg by other life forms.”

  Arista wondered whether other life forms—like Gemma—thought differently than she did, or felt differently.

  “It was the plan to imitate the valor that gives great warriors a strength beyond expectation,” continued the Hive. “As has so often been the case, you have excelled in this experiment, even without knowing what has been changed in your subroutines. You have forged a new path for cyborgs, Arista, and your legacy will endure long.”

  Arista paused in the act of dressing herself. “A legacy is defined as being left by one who has died. I didn’t think I could die.”

  “You can’t die naturally, of course. You can be decommissioned.”

  Arista caught her breath.

  “You can also be killed.”

  She continued to don her clothes, hoping her annoyance didn’t show—and knowing that it did. “Surely the probability of that is very low, given my training.”

  “It should be, yes.” The Hive paused and Arista straightened.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You surely know that your theft of the ShadowCaster cannot go unchallenged by the royal family of Regalia. They will hire an assassin to retrieve the vessel and end your life. If that assassin fails, they will hire another. Such is the depth of their commitment to vengeance and to the repossession of the ShadowCaster.”

  The implication of this confession was clear to Arista. “You want me to permit this to happen.”

  “Your next assignment is to lure this assassin, whoever he or she may prove to be, and ensure that the quest to kill you is long. If you succumb too quickly, a trick will be suspected. If you survive multiple attempts, their pursuit will only be renewed and continue. It may become reckless, putting others at risk. You must find a balance, allowing the kill to occur and ensuring that they perceive it was as hard-won as anticipated.”

  Arista wanted to defy the Hive, but she didn’t say as much aloud. She tugged on her boots with more force than was necessary and knew her reaction had been noted.

  “You must see, Arista, that this is the most logical outcome.”

  “I do not.”

  “Your subroutine has gone rogue. It puts you at risk, as well as any others who must do battle with you. This is unacceptable. You can be reprogrammed, but that subroutine and your feelings for Prince Venero will be eliminated.”

  “No,” Arista said.

  “You can be decommissioned, but that will not stop the assassins from coming to hunt you.”

  Arista felt her lips thin. “Or I can allow myself to be assassinated.”

  “And lie, with your dying breath, about the location of the ShadowCaster.”

  “Why would I do that? The telling of falsehoods is irrational…”

  “Not if it protects someone else.”

  Arista considered the walls with their monitors and sensors. “What do you mean?”

  “If you cannot be found, they will turn their attention upon the one person who might know more of your location.”

  “Venero,” Arista whispered.

  “The probability is calculated to be very high that he will be tortured to force his confession, in the absence of your death.”

  “How high?” Arista whispered.

  “Ninety-seven point two per cent. So long as he is believed to know something, he will be permitted to live. Biological organisms, unfortunately, lack the ability to deliver their memories once they have ceased to live. It is a great flaw in their design.”

  “And if I die?”

  “If you die, if you are killed by the assassin hired by those in Regalia, if you lie about the location of the ShadowCaster, then the probability of him being so abused drops to sixty-nine point three.”

  “He still won’t be safe.”

  “His safety is not entirely in your hands, Arista. The calculation is very complicated.”

  “What is the most likely outcome?”

  “That he will be suffered to live but imprisoned.”

  “It’s not enough,” she whispered.

  The Hive made a sound like a person clearing his throat. “You can improve the probabilities significantly by making and sending a gift to Princess Gemma.”

  Arista looked up. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” the Hive confessed. “Not completely. The calculations become very shadowy, but it is evident that if you create a cyborg for Gemma that she takes as a companion, one that is programmed to kill Queen Arcana, then Venero’s probability for a long life rises to ninety-two percent.”

  “Because once Arcana is dead, the quest for the ShadowCaster will end, because the prophecy can’t be fulfilled.”

  “Precisely. Somewhat irrational, but a verifiable calculation all the same.”

  Relief filled Arista and her decision was made. She couldn’t be with Venero and she understood that. She wanted to ensure his longevity and happiness, though, and this was a small price to pay.

  “What is the lie I’ll tell about the ShadowCaster?”

  “That it died, or that it escaped. It seems improbable that anyone would believe such a valuable creature had been willfully destroyed. I leave the choice to you.”

  That was new. “Why?”

  “Because you probably have a better understanding of what Queen Arcana would find plausible.” A screen appeared on one wall, and an image was displayed. Arista watched as the ShadowCaster moved for the first time since she had seen it. She caught her breath when it changed and gasped aloud at the way it increased in size once the vessel was opened. She saw the way it flowed and swirled and knew that a normal chamber wouldn’t have contained it. The image terminated then, and she knew the Hive was keeping the ShadowCaster’s predictions from her.

  “It escaped,” s
he said. “Just like that. I opened the vessel, believing it to be dead, and lost it.”

  “An excellent and plausible story. Where did you open the vessel?”

  “Here on Cumae. As soon as I returned.” Arista sought a compelling explanation for such disobedience of a direct order. “I was curious and I knew that once I delivered it, as assigned, I would never see it again.”

  “Excellent. Everyone is curious about the future. And the cyborg for Princess Gemma?”

  “A pavofel,” Arista said. “She’d never take a warrior by her side, not one other than me. She doesn’t trust cyborgs, either.”

  “Intriguing.”

  “But a pet. She would keep a pet. She always admired the pavofels here. She thought they were beautiful.”

  “And Queen Arcana has an affection for them, as well. Excellent. The pavofel cyborg will be programmed to seek out the queen.”

  Arista was obliged to admit her shortcoming. “But I don’t know how to make a cyborg, much less to program one.”

  “You have only to ask for help, Arista.”

  Yes. The Hive knew everything about making cyborgs. “It will have to have a bit of that subroutine for emotion,” she dared to suggest.

  “I think a small increment of your affection for Gemma would be sufficient, and it would not interfere in the complete execution of the cyborg’s programming.”

  “Maybe I’ll leave more than one legacy,” Arista said.

  The Hive’s circuits hummed as it calculated, and she thought there was pleasure in its voice when it replied. “Undoubtedly, you will.”

  * * *

  Acion obeyed the summons to the Vault, even though he wasn’t due for maintenance or report. His systems had been recently updated, and he hadn’t sustained any injuries. Still, there was no question of disobeying a directive.

  He made his way to the Vault, passing through the twisted corridors that led deep into Cumae. He had developed a new probability game and indulged himself with it as he progressed through the various check points and security barriers.

  Why had the Hive summoned him?

  There was zero possibility that he needed repair.