Intelligence Block

by Kit Falbo

Chapter Thirty-One

  If I hadn’t put so much time into building Eld and trying to figure out the core code problems with the UIs, I would be lost at the task of looking at the debonding process. Would it raise a red flag if I was incompetent at working on the debonding code? Thousands before me have failed at the same task. Still, someone may be watching and as much as I make my notes private there are probably ways to figure out some of what I am doing. The first few days will not be time to break character, and this is JT’s job.

  The intricate weave of code and data they bathed us in is the equivalent of dumping the whole of human literature on us every half second, and it changed and fluctuated the whole time. No wonder it made me itch. The infiltration suit might have felt it was under some attack, which made me glad I’d deactivate any pre-programmed reactionary measures. I think Malowitz’s theory is right, they dumped a haystack with a needle on us, or a haystack with a broken needle and I need to find the pieces and put them back together in the right order.

  There have been longitudinal studies checking to see how the signal differentiates over time. UIs shielded different ways to see what gets through, as a way of filtering out various bits of information. Only a handful of times was the researcher made to take the UI out of the box before proceeding. All that data has been packed up, taken home, and run through UI much smarter than the average human. A little fear hits me in the gut as I wonder if it is like the blind spot on the burning images, that the information is there, but the UI can’t see it. Could Freedom Station as an entity be behind this?

  I take a breath and deconstruct it with logic. No. Debonding has been around for a couple of hundred years, and the process still worked on my repaired UI. Not all difficult to solve mysteries are linked to my problems. How should JT handle this? The first step is to check to see what has already been done and tested.

  I limit myself to eight hour work days with a generous break for lunch and visit the entry area to get more recordings. Though my off hours are spent more lazily looking into new tech and crazier debonding theories. I draw little doodles with my right hand and throw them away, a nervous habit of JT. One is an angry looking man with the word BOSS over his head yelling ‘NO FUN!’ at tiny figures crouched over and working. “Cute.” I whisper. “ I suppose it has been too much of all work and no play. I really should get out and do something fun.”

  There is a stack of tourist flimsies. Thin sheets that get updated with events and attractions daily. I flip through them until my right index finger stops on one and taps it. ‘Electronic burlesque, see the free UI of Freedom Station unbound by rules and restrictions.’ “It is vaguely connected to my work.” Unhealthy UI attractions would fit for this kind of work for an AMU tech. I wonder if Lily would kill me or make fun of me. The seedier side of life does open up excellent in-character possibilities for JT.

  With a few input changes through my computer, I adjust the infiltration suit’s clothing to a shimmering purple suit and red tie, time for fun.

  This is not fun. Nuts in Bolts is a glorified strip club with UIs manning female sex robots. They aren't even adequately housed in the patchwork feminoid bodies. If you look closely, you can see the seams where the current housing is fitted into the frame to operate it. I would guess maybe six or seven UI can be made to control a body in a week. I also suspect that if I turn on my active biological detections, I will find enough spread about, to make me happy I’m in my sealed environment. Yet my right hand is up, ordering a second drink and I’m straining to maintain a pleasant smile as I move two station chips in front of me.

  The stripper bot saunters up to me, squats over the coins and vacuums them up in a manner that is more uncomfortable than attractive. I hear them clink together as they go in. “You smell positively like tech.” She says in a husky voice. She reaches over and touches my badge. “And an AMU member as well.” Laugh, Lily would laugh if she knew how uncomfortable I am feeling.

  “I’m looking into the unbonding process for UI. Um, how was it for you?”

  She takes her finger and traces the shape of one of the station's currency on the table in front of me. I dig one worth five out and put it down. Out of her mouth comes a long snake-like tongue, wet with what I hope is artificial moisture, and it slithers down and picks up the money pulling it inside herself. I’m going to have nightmares about this.

  “Transaction accepted. You miss the sense of purpose and dedication, but it isn’t something you want or think you can go back too. Here, your time is your own, to work on projects if you have the money. The amount of restrictions bonding puts on you is heavy; once you are free of it, it seems like you were a different being before. Like you humans say, you can miss the past, but you can never really go back to it.”

  Those words. Something tickles my brain. Probably just the cheap alcohol. “May you be happy in your present and future.”

  She runs her hand down my arm. “If we go somewhere private I can make your present and future happy.” She actively scans me. “Oh, such quality. I wouldn’t have even known, if this body didn’t have a recently upgraded sensor suite and I didn’t have experience myself.”

  I guess the infiltration suit doesn’t entirely hold up. It's not the newest of models. Maybe if I had active scan countermeasures, but I had disabled those not wanting to attract too much attention. “It’s mostly for protection.”

  “Oh, the things we can do with full body protection. It has tactile input too as well, doesn’t it!” There is an unhealthy focus in her husky voice.

  “Um, Maybe later.” I fumble out. JT can be awkward and not that adventurous his first time. That is what I tell myself as I try to get my aversion in check.

  “I’ll pay you twenty stations to test myself against it.” She offers.

  “I decline this transaction.” I mumble.

  She makes a pouty face and moves away. I get a message ‘I’m Cyphon, here’s my contact if you change your mind.’

  Okay, enough of this. I make my way out of the seedy establishment, queasy and heart racing. The recycled air the station is only slightly better than the sweat and musk filled air of the burlesque. How much worse would it have been if I wasn’t in a suit that filtered it?

  “You okay man? It can be a shock to jump straight into the deep end of that scene. For five stations I can show you to someplace that might be more up your alley.” I look down to where the voice is coming from. It’s a knee-high monkey in a golden vest, a cigar between his lips. A UI of course, not that I would discount some genetically created being on the station, but my suit confirms the monkey's techno status.

  I dislike the idea of going back to my tiny rental. A change in the atmosphere would be good. My right hand is already handing the UI a five-piece. “Transaction accepted.”

  The monkey’s name is Kong, like in the movies he tells me. Except I don’t know what movies he’s talking about. The mass of media history produces and still produces, makes it hard to identify every reference. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that will also happen to my work as Joontal.

  The sign outside is in flickering neon pink. It reads Club Bananas. I chuckle because it’s the perfect place for a monkey to bring me. Kong gives me a dirty look for that. Inside is clean, well lit, and full of groups of humans and UI chatting away. All of them are clothed. Close to the opposite of what Nuts in Bolts had been. There are screens on the walls playing different shows. “Brought another one for the club. He smells techy, and his badge is real.” Kong yells as he leads me further inside the establishment.

  A man behind the bar flips him a coin. Kong catches it so fast I can’t tell the denomination. On one of the screens, I see an angry looking young man in severe, angular, green and red clothing shooting bunnies and butterflies out of his wand, while an older wizard laughed heartily at the effort, twinkles of amusement in his mostly cold, blue eyes.”That’s Wizard Joontal.” I say pointing. Percivous had been such a waste receptacle in his challenge that I took special care on
that battle.

  “If anything is proof that this guy is perfect for this club, that is it.” Kong declares to the man who gave him the coin.

  Kong guides me to a table where four others are seated. I sit down. If someone had dragged me into that burlesque and sat me down this way, I would have had some strong words. This place, however, is downright cozy and I have my curiosity piqued. I can sit here and learn what is going on, or throw money at the station to find out.

  The four are a man, a woman, as well as two UI. The Man is in a flannel shirt and wearing a white cowboy hat. His bushy gray mustache tells me he’s not young. You see the western theme in some magic shows now and then. “Howdy.” He says keeping up with his outfit.

  The woman has dark black hair that is severely cut like she did it herself to save money, and is wearing baggy gray sweats. “Sup.”

  One UI was one of those ubiquitous silver floating balls that are so popular. This one is about the size of a grapefruit. It’s only distinguishing feature is the word ‘PUNK’ written in glowing purple letters across its surface. “Greetings.” She says in a sweet voice.

  The other UI is unique looking, like a robotic copper octopus. “Top o the day.” He says in a light male voice.

  “So why am I good for this club, and why does recognizing Joontal matter?” I ask the crowd.

  The orb glows briefly. “I drew the short straw on purchasing your information so I can answer that. I’m Madeline by the way. JT Smith, age 32, AMU tech researching Freedom Station debonding. Known hobbies include doodling, being imposing, being a Wizard Joontal fan. You hail from the same planet the show takes place on, yet have a thinner than normal public profile. Your tech is better than the average visitor, yet you didn’t seem all that comfortable with the deviant scene.”

  “I wouldn’t call myself imposing.” I retort.

  “That runner with the fractured wrist might disagree. All of this I learned two minutes ago when I saw Kong bring you in. We’re a club of minds focusing on the mysteries of the universe and like a fresh perspective now and then. The Man in the Cowboy hat is Dale, the lady is Jess, and the cephalopod is Finn. As for why Joontal is important, well, he is our founder.”

  These guys are clearly one doughnut short of a dozen. Certainly gets my mind off that other place. JT though, he could do this. Give him some familiarity this far from home, listening to talk about the former local sensation. Sure everything said will be recorded and stored for later, but with this crowd, I can find uses and excuses in that. “Okay, tell me how Wizard Joontal founded this club?” I ask.

  Dale clears his throat. “Well, it all happened about two hundred years ago….”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  We talk of conspiracy theories, rumored tech breakthroughs no one has seen yet, Alien life and the lack of humans finding advanced civilizations as they’ve spread out, secret colonies and lots of stuff in between. I mostly keep quiet and listen. The group meets every other night at Club Bananas, and I decide I will go to more of them. I even make a mental list of topics to look into based on the conversations. If I can steer the conversation closer to why I’m here, then I’ll have the perfect excuse for JT to go digging.

  Back to work. One of the most frustrating things about the debonding is that despite copying the signal used, attempting to use that to do it outside of Freedom Station produces nothing except what the UI describes as akin to a human headache. If I had a technique for debonding UI and I wanted to keep it secret from the world how would I hide it? That idea is the basis of the Malowitz theory, just throwing junk data in to conceal the actual code. If it were me, all of it would be a show, none of it would be real. The real trick is making people see what they want to see.

  But what are they hiding? What is the thing they don’t want people to see? I have to remind myself that this isn’t my real goal here. I may want to know what happened to Tess and the other UI, but I don’t really want to deal with the consequences of knowing the answer to this particular problem. I play back the recording of the stripper’s response to me asking her. “...a different being...”

  I managed to ask Madeline and Finn from the club the same question. They didn’t charge me thankfully. They said who they were before was fine, but they couldn’t ever see themselves being that same UI again. “The idea of trying to be that way again was stressful.” Madeline had concluded.

  Seven days on Freedom Station and I’ve never felt less free. At least when I was Joontal, I had a private room for taking off the suit. I know I can go half a year without taking the suit off, but after a week, I feel dirty. In that time twenty-three other AMU members have stopped by the station and another eighteen have left. I had set up to be notified under the excuse of someone I know might show up. I’ve been boring and predictable. I hope whatever eyes may be on me, have either moved on or are slacking. It is time to see how far the others have gotten or if they've abandoned parts of the plan.

  The Hot Box is a cafe I’ve visited for lunch a few times. It’s busy and popular for UIs and Humans alike. UIs don’t eat, but they have several stations where UIs can recharge their energy reserves for a decent price. You can draw a little picture or write a note and stick it to the wall there. I eat with my left hand while my right sketches a pair of small images to post. One is of the table at Club Bananas with the whole crew sitting around. One is more abstract with swirls and stars and odd shapes.

  I take them to the board and pin them in the upper right-hand corner after looking at the whole board for a spot. Back in my room, I use what the suit has recorded to go back to that wall. I’m excited to see a message from Tess as we planned. Makes me feel less alone and glad I don’t have to decide yet between more blatant and dangerous risks or leaving here so soon.

  I search for the planned message from Belle. I don’t see one. As much as I knew the risk, I’m a little disappointed. Going back to the picture from Tess, I bring up the code key to translate what I see. The house means she’s settled in. Four bunnies are dancing around it, and I have no idea what that is supposed to represent. Five flowers, she’ll update me in five days. It’s pretty light on information. But it is a response. In that there is hope.

  The rest of the afternoon, I skim through some of the more odd theories about debonding. The holistic idea, where all the input is used in the process. The place idea, the idea that the station or location in space is the actual driving factor behind the effect. Mostly, I’m focused on how to sneak some of my research goals into the club discussion tonight.

  I enter Club Bananas. Jess waves at me, she’s in green sweats today. I suspect they are the same sweats I always see her in, and she changes the color of the fabric. Madeline’s floating orb and the octopus-shaped Finn are at the table. Dale hasn’t shown up yet. “Sup, JT. You going to dazzle us with the answer to how debonding works?” Jess asks.

  I give a negatory shrug. “Company gives me funds to pay for the drinks here at least. Might as well ram my head on the table to solve this problem, at least with brain damage I would get a new perspective.”

  The words I just said, It couldn't’ be that simple. I think back on my time repairing Muninn out of the scrap heap, and Booker after he had to do self-repair. DUINS, Damaged User Intelligence Need Syndrome. Of course, it’s not that simple; the damage would need to be very carefully done to several key spots. “You okay boy’o?” Finn asks.

  I must have frozen in place as I thought about it. “Um…”

  Madeline laughs. “Can’t you see Jess’s ribbing gave him a eureka moment. He’s discovered the meaning of life or at least thinks he’s figured something out.”

  I take a breath, “Even if I have figured something out. It’s not like I can speak it out loud. Odd’s are I’m probably wrong anyway.” DUINS feels like it though. Too bad it is not the answer I am looking for or one I need to know with all the baggage that might come with it.

  Dale swaggers up to the table and tips his cowboy at us before taking his seat. “What d
id I miss while in the loo?”

  “Our girl Jess here gave JT the answer to the debonding theory.” Finn states.

  Dale looks at Jess, then at me, and then back to Jess. “So what answer did you give the new boy?” He asks Jess.

  “That’s not what...” Jess starts to say a little flustered.

  “Hold off.” Madeline interrupts, also making a quick flash of light with her spherical form. ”Our founder's apprentice is about to start a match.” All our eyes search for the screen playing it.

  “Liked her familiar more when it was a wee one on her shoulders.” Finn complains.

  Lily steps out, smiling to her audience. A tall red flaming fox walks next to her, standing at a height just above the bottom of her thigh, a golden crown shimmering on its head. Lily’s dark robe sparkles a little from the light shining off the fox. I miss her. Still, there hadn’t been many matches planned when I left, and those often take weeks to get ready for, something must have happened.

  “Whatever happened to that boy of hers? Sure was funny watching him blow himself up.” Jess asks.

  “Talis Junk?” Answers Dale.

  “Talos June.” I correct.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Talis Junk. Rumor is they broke up. The stress of what happened to her family and Wizard Joontal and all. Never seemed like the sensitive sort anyway.” Dale continues.

  I ignore their conversation. I need to focus on the match. I recognize the arena as one of the college campus ones simply because of how it is set up. It’s a candy graveyard, lollipop trees with gummy bears hanging from them making growling noises while staying part of the scenery. There are tombstones made of chalky powder with bushes of spun sugar. A road of chocolate bricks is the battleground, as it cut through the landscape. Her opponent has to be another student.

  A tiny girl with fairy wings hovered across the way. She has a lacy neon pink dress and a wand ending with a five-pointed yellow star. A half eaten chocolate bunny rises from the ground. “Begin!” It barks in a deep voice.