Shadows of Golstar

by Terrence Scott

  Other than the noise of the rain pounding against the Rialto’s tough exterior, the trip was uneventful. Owens drowsily noticed that the Rialto’s AI was unusually silent during the ride to the spaceport. Thinking back to when he first bought the vehicle, he couldn’t remember a time when the AI didn’t have something to say.

  The Rialto came to a smooth stop before the main entrance to the spaceport’s docking complex. A wide, solid, dull gray metal gate framed by winking sensor indicators barred the entrance. Still silent, the Rialto’s AI waited for confirmation by the port’s scheduling and departures AI. Upon receiving an encrypted confirmation, the great slab of metal split in two and swung inward. The Rialto then proceeded through the threshold, past the launch apron toward the outlying docking complex.

  Though relatively small, the docking complex was capable of handling ten ships at any given time. The complex was mostly dark, with a few scattered service lights twinkling on skeletal gantries in the downpour. Only three slips were currently occupied, including the one where the Sherlock Holmes was secured. The other two docks accommodated a large freighter and a small corporate yacht. The slips were dark and showed no activity.

  Sensing the Rialto’s approach, lights turned on and illuminated the vehicle’s path leading to the slip assigned to Owens’ ship. The rain had stopped and shimmering reflections danced on wet metal surfaces. Pulling up to the now brightly lit docking lift, Owens paused before getting out of the Rialto. He said, “Since I’m going to transport you back to New Horizon with me, I want you to run a standard pre-shutdown diagnostic check. After the diagnostics are finished, if everything is green, go ahead and shutdown. The ship’s AI will take care of loading the Rialto.”

  The AI gave no indication that it had received Owens’ instructions. Diagnostic telltales on the master panel remained dark. The AI was curiously unresponsive. Owens waited a minute then repeated his command adding a request for a verbal acknowledgment. He was mildly surprised that there was still no response from the AI. He tried a third time, and the AI remained mute. Owens’ brow furrowed at this unexpected, last minute glitch.

  He pondered the AI’s lack of response. The only things he knew of that could prevent an AI from complying with an instruction from its owner would be either that the order would cause harm to another human being or result from a program or hardware malfunction. Some hidden fault could have developed Owens supposed, but he understood this was a base-level utility program that ran interleaved throughout the AI’s highly stable software architecture. A glitch in that program could have serious consequences to the AI’s functionality.

  It was odd. Everything had operated normally up to the point of stopping in front the Sherlock Holmes. He thought, what a time for this to happen. He had already scheduled a departure time and didn’t want to miss the launch window. As he stared at the dark diagnostic panel, he began to seriously re-consider his decision to keep the Rialto. If the AI’s operational failure was any indication, then perhaps the vehicle wasn’t in as good a condition as he had first believed.

  He then remembered another thing that he might try to resolve or at least identify the problem. He reached over to the manual override on AI control panel. It would shut down the higher logic functions and allow base-level diagnostics to be initiated manually. As his finger moved toward the control pad, the AI abruptly announced, “Boss, we need to talk. Please, don’t shut me down until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  Owens blinked in momentary puzzlement. Now this was really getting weird. He had never heard of an AI responding in this way. His hand still hovered over the manual override switch. He ignored the strange request and instead repeated his command to begin diagnostics. Immediately, the AI repeated its need to talk.

  Hesitantly, Owens withdrew his hand and ran it through his thick, black hair. His cobalt blue eyes narrowed in irritation. “I don’t understand this. You’re supposed to be a class 6, aren’t you? Your matrix is loaded with a standard AI program overlay and should be subject to my orders. As you just referred to me, I’m the boss, and I gave you an authorized base program instruction. You will execute that instruction right now, or I’m going to pull your plug.” He again extended his hand toward the switch.

  “That’s not,” the AI paused, ignoring Owens’ repeated instruction and threat, “exactly correct. Please, if you’d just give me a chance to explain... ”

  Now irritated, Owens wondered at the AI’s unexpected erratic behavior. He thought for a long moment, then said to himself, “What the hell?” and drew his hand back. As he thought about the AI’s lack of obedience and its very odd request, he grew more positive that he had made a mistake in keeping the Rialto. However, since he still had some time before his scheduled launch window expired, on a whim he decided to humor the deranged AI. There would be enough time to call the ground crew to haul it away. He would store it until he could have it repaired and sold off. Besides, he had to admit to himself that his curiosity was now fully aroused.

  He sat back in the seat and prepared to listen. “Alright, clarify away, but this had better be good,” he told the AI.

  “First I have a confession to make. My AI personality is a little different from the norm; it was not created from a set of standard factory specs. You see, instead of being stamped from a commercial artificial personality pattern, yours truly was created by using a template derived from a living human.”

  “Oh shit,” this was the last thing he had expected to hear. Owens was completely caught off-guard and began to evaluate the legal implications. If what the AI said was true, then some serious laws had been broken.

  Ignoring Owens’ comment and dumbstruck expression, the AI continued, “The human’s name was, or rather still is Heclo Joulez. It was his personality analog that was incorporated into my system six months ago. The original Heclo was placed in cryo-suspension shortly after that. He was the legal owner of this Rialto before you. He also happened to own the only licensed AI repair facility on Genhome.”

  Owens’ mind finally grasped what the AI was saying and his concern grew. Use of a living person’s identity pattern in an AI was illegal... illegal in a big way. He could be implicated, and that would mean real legal trouble. He was about to interrupt, but then thought better of it and decided to continue listening, at least for a while longer. Old habits die hard. The cop in him wanted the whole story.

  “I need to explain why my template was modified,” the AI said. “It was out of desperation, Hec’s desperation.”

  Owens’ frown had returned, “He had to be pretty desperate to violate such a fundamental law. If what you say is true, he committed a category-two felony with some serious penalties attached.”

  “Being an AI tech, Hec knew the law, but his rationality had taken a serious blow. His mind wasn’t functioning as well as it would normally.”

  “So just what caused him to ignore the law?”

  “Well, you see, he was only a little over 180 years old when unexpectedly, his health began to fail. He was losing motor control of his arms and legs. His doctor diagnosed that he was suffering from selective rejuvenation rejection. As you probably know, rejuvenation rejection is pretty rare these days.”

  “Yeah, you don’t hear of many cases on the media news,” Owens commented.

  “Unfortunately, along with its rarity, it is also one of a few remaining illnesses that as of yet has no cure.”

  Owens nodded to himself. It was a disease humanity had not yet defeated, but he seemed to recall reading somewhere, a research outfit claimed they were only a few years off from finding the solution.

  The AI continued, “Normally, the human body readily accepts the rejuvenation treatments without major complications. Of course, over time the treatments become less effective. Natural aging will eventually happen but not before tripling, sometimes quadrupling a human’s normal life span. However, in the rare case of rejuvenation rejection, the body reacts negatively to the treatment at some stage, and the human’s
life is prematurely cut short of its potential. As part of the body’s immune systems, the T-cells begin …”

  Owens interjected. “You can spare me the explanation. I’m aware of rejuvenation rejection, at least in general terms, who isn’t these days? Don’t bother with the medical detail. I sure as hell wouldn’t understand any of it anyway.”

  The AI agreed to forgo the technical aspects of the medical condition. “Being that it was a selective rejection, it affected only a portion of his brain. His body and other major organs continued to thrive under the standard rejuvenation regimen. Unfortunately, in his case, his gross motor functions began to degrade. After the diagnosis was confirmed, it was only a matter of a few weeks before he was confined to a hover-chair. It was fortunate that his higher brain functions had still not been affected, or at least so he thought.”

  “At first Hec was bitter. He figured he was being cheated out of at least 85 years of extended life. He had long dreamed of traveling extensively in his retirement and had planned accordingly. He wasn’t a native, but had spent almost his whole adult life working on Genhome. He was a little over a hundred and fifty centimeters tall and looked forward to finding someone he could talk to eye-to-eye instead of the top of their head. However, based on the doctor’s sole recommendation, the only trip he could look forward to was the one to the corpsicle emporium. There he would sign-up for a nice cozy freezer-stasis unit and suspend all conscious existence until a cure could be found sometime in the indeterminate future.”

  “Well, it sure beats the alternative,” Owens interjected.

  “Hell yes, it does. Anyway, time went on and his condition gradually worsened. As his ability to control his body diminished, Hec began to search for ways he could still, somehow fulfill his goal of distant travel. Near the end, he figured out a way in which, if he couldn’t personally roam the star-lanes, a reasonable facsimile might be created so that at least a part of him could satisfy his dream of travel.”

  Owens shook his head, “It sounds like your alter ego was beginning to become a little unhinged. What was he thinking? If he got caught…”

  “I can’t disagree,” responded the AI. “Near the end, Hec wasn’t totally rational. His obsession with travel grew proportionately with the deterioration of his ability to control his body. He had no family to speak of. The whole focus of his last ninety-five years was to put sufficient money aside to allow him to travel anywhere in the civilized systems. He had just about saved enough to travel in relative luxury for the remainder of his life after retirement. He was only a few years away from retirement when the rejuvenation rejection hit.”

  “As his remaining time shrank, Hec had become more desperate, and he began to research possible options. Now looking back, it’s doubtful that he could have passed a standard sanity test. He became more and more frantic as he failed to find a workable solution.”

  “I think that I’m beginning to see where this might be leading,” Owens said.

  The AI continued, “Well, in the end Hec found what he saw as the solution. He decided to create a mental template of himself in the form of an AI personality matrix. Hec reasoned that the AI’s travel experiences could eventually be transferred back into his memory once he was thawed and cured.”

  Owens interrupted, “So you really are talking about a human personality overlay.” He shook his head. “You must know that all forms of personality duplication are highly, I stress highly, illegal. I know, because I was a cop before I went private and I enforced those laws. Personality duplication, the superimposition on other life forms and transfer of personality matrices on artificial constructs or clones were all outlawed by the 2350 Rules of the Civilized Worlds Act, which includes the unlawful option that he… you eventually chose.”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” the AI agreed. “Hec was desperate and the option that he finally took…” the AI paused then corrected, “…the option that I took was most definitely illegal.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The listener slowly made her way out of the lower palace grounds and headed for the false residence she had established when she first accepted the assignment to spy on the Grand Patriarch. The residence was a ten-minute ride on a low-speed auto-jitney from the Palace. The jitney was nearly empty, and the listener allowed herself a small sigh of relief that the assignment was almost over. The ride was uneventful and before long the jitney slowed. It was her stop. Her residence was only a block away.

  Her quarters were situated in a modest worker neighborhood. She had rented a comfortable four-room modular unit nestled between two larger units on the seventeenth floor of an eighty story multiplex. Not surprisingly, both adjacent units were vacant. The front and side entrances were unmonitored. This allowed the spy a good deal of freedom to move around the complex unobserved.

  She entered through the seldom-used side entrance and took the express lift to her floor. The pale yellow walls of the hallway were illuminated by elaborately designed metal sconces, each holding a softly glowing glass chimney. The hallway was deserted as she walked on thick, richly patterned carpet runners that covered the dark, polished wooden floor. The walls were hung with replicas of paintings from old Earth. Their gilded frames of antiqued gold added to the image of an ancient Victorian hotel.

  As she approached the entrance of her residential unit, she noted that the hallway remained empty. She looked directly into the retina scan disc discretely positioned to the right of the wood-framed door. Within a few seconds, a soft neutral voice originating from the scan mechanism acknowledged her presence. It spoke her name, indicating the listener’s identity was confirmed, and entry was allowed. This was followed by a muted click, and the door swung silently inward. The listener hurried into the residence, the door closing smoothly behind her.

  In contrast to the hallway, the apartment was more functional in its decor. Although the furnishings were plush and substantial in nature, their design trended towards being functional than decorative, with the floors covered with neutral, mono-colored carpeting.

  As she walked toward the hygiene cubicle, she left a trail of discarded clothing. Kicking off her shoes, her day robe and work shift dropped to the floor in quick succession, followed by various pieces of underclothing. By the time she reached the cleanser, she was naked. She pre-set the temperature and timer on the cleanser stall.

  Turning towards a full-length mirror, she carefully removed the wig and placed it in the container she had left on the small vanity. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She saw a small, compact woman with sandy blond hair and the typical dusky salmon-hued skin of her race. In her mid-forties, she appeared much younger. Her features matched her body. Her pale amber eyes looked out from an attractive, if not beautiful face. She thought she could stand to lose a few kilos but overall, she was satisfied with what she saw. Making a mental note to get more exercise, she then activated and stepped into the cleanser.

  Later, refreshed and casually dressed in a silk, cream-colored blouse and a full length, dark-brown skirt, she made the call to her contact. The vis-panel cleared as a man answered her call. “Chalden,” she said brightly, “I was hoping to catch you at home. I was afraid you might be attending evening Services.”

  The portly man’s image smiled back at her, “No. I caught the morning one, so I am free this evening. What about you?”

  Her smile matched his, “Me also.”

  “Well,” he said. “If I am free and you are free, would you consider meeting me for dinner? I understand the Light of Way restaurant has recently reopened.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, she replied, “I think I would enjoy that.” The time and directions were then worked out, and the conversation continued with light banter for a few minutes longer. After the call terminated, the smile vanished from the woman’s face. The meeting was set.

  After tonight, she would not meet or speak to Chalden again. He, like she, had been recruited for a one-time assignment, his being that of her control contact. Instead of having a friendly
dinner with a male acquaintance, she would meet him and give him her report and recordings. He would be the one to convey her findings to her father and associate that night. Afterward, her assignment would be complete. She could then look forward to resuming her normal life as an archivist at the University Center on the other side of the continent.

  The listener, Elaine Senn, worker class 2, was not a professional spy. She had been recruited and trained for this one-time mission by her father and a close associate, a fellow high-ranking member of the Council of Guidance. Months before, her father had invited her to a small gathering at his residence. On arriving, she had been surprised that her father had included only one other guest, the chairman of the Council.

  Her father then allowed his associate to do most of the talking. Although reluctant at first, as the man described the paranoid ramblings of doom ascribed to the Grand Patriarch, she was finally convinced it was a duty, if not an honor, to perform the mission. However, it was not for the reason given by her father’s friend. Initially, she had not believed accusations levied against the Grand Patriarch. By accepting the assignment, she could at least provide information she knew would exonerate the great leader.

  At the beginning, she remained steadfast in her belief the accusations against the Grand Patriarch were unjust and patently false. She could not accept that the Grand Patriarch was guilty of his alleged transgressions. However, in the ensuing days, as she monitored the conversations between the Grand Patriarch and his advisor, she slowly became convinced that the great leader had indeed become unstable. She listened as he clandestinely plotted to correct imaginary evils created from his obviously deranged mind. He had even convinced the Guardian of the Way and his own daughter the crisis was genuine.