Foreign Devil (Unreal Universe Book 1)

by Lee Bond

  “The whole religious and AI thing, right?” Garth couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

  “Correct. As an Offworlder, you’ve been allotted four hours a day to spend as you see fit. The rest of your time will be divided between Game promotions, carefully monitored excursions with the others, and, of course exercising. Meals and relaxation will take place at the Hotel.”

  “Wait a minute. Just slow down for a sec.” Garth held up a hand. “You’re saying that I gotta to do this crap, even if I don’t want to?”

  “According the rules of your contestant Visa, yes.” Naoko raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem? I need to know if I am to grant you final approval.”

  Mind working furiously, Garth shook his head. He’d been stupid to ignore the possibility of being watched day in and day out from now until the Game. Now he was going to be stuck looking for a workaround, something he was good at so long as stuff started blowing up. “No, no. Well, yeah, kinda, but what can I do?”

  “Short of convincing the Latelian government to make you a citizen, very little, I’m afraid.” Naoko smiled apologetically then continued, unhappy that the rules and regulations had drawn Garth’s attention away from her. She saw Garth was less than thrilled at being sequestered for most of the day, and couldn’t blame him; a number of fights had broken out amongst the group of Offworlders when they’d learned of their virtual imprisonment, so why should he be any different? “Any questions?”

  “Actually, yeah.” Garth put his elbow on the counter and strove to push his dismay into a corner while also not reverting to some kind of cheeseball meathead trying to pick up a chick. “What kind of ‘excursions’ are we talking, here?”

  “There are a number of government-sponsored trips you and the others will be taking. In addition to trips to The Box Museum, there are wild game hunts, dozens of Game parties and, well, I do not know everything you will be asked to do as I’m not your liaison, but I am certain you will be well taken care of.” Naoko handed Garth the Sheet.

  Garth took the slender, postcard-sized piece of semi-translucent plastic and held it between thumb and forefinger. “What in the heck is this?” He wiggled it back and forth.

  “This is a Sheet, Sa Garth.” Naoko took the device back, laid it on the countertop, and proceeded to show him how to use it. She could feel his breath on her hand as he watched her navigate through the many screens, and suppressed a shiver.

  “It is a portable, disposable computer that can hold thousands of data files or about a hundred of hours of video footage. In your case, I have filled it with all the data you will need to get to the Hotel, and to meet your registration requirements. While we spoke, I also took the liberty of adding extra information for you because you seem very interested in Hospitalis. It’s not as flexible as a proteus, but it will be very helpful to you.”

  “Proteus?” The scent of orange blossoms and jasmine filled his senses. He was only dimly aware that they were talking.

  “Oh yes,” Naoko dimpled her cheeks as she showed Garth the proteus she wore on her left forearm. “This. It’s a personal computer, and it’s very powerful. Since we have never relied on AI, thousands of years ago we developed both a programming language and a machine system to replace that particular crutch. This one is connected to all the data and equipment in the spaceport. If necessary, I can access the cameras where your ship is being stored to monitor it for dangerous activities. Additionally, my proteus –all proteii- can connect to a wireless global NetLINK, giving me access to almost any information I could ever want or need. Of course, government lines are restricted.”

  “Of course.” Garth murmured, eyeing the small computer enviously. Naoko’s proteus was just over seven inches long and gently curved across the width so it molded perfectly to her forearm. Surrounding a screen set in the middle of the proteus were fifty blank, backlit buttons. When he raised an eyebrow at that, Naoko hastened to explain.

  “Virtual buttons, you see?” Naoko touched a few buttons for illumination. The high-rez screen flared to life, and a local news anchor began commenting on a terrorist bombing on the outskirts of one of the perimeter towns. Naoko switched stations quickly, flushing along her jawline. “Each person can program their proteus to do whatever they want. Since space is limited, we rely on being able to assign a number of different functions to a single button. The screen for my proteus is also touch sensitive, but I rarely use it. I … I don’t like getting marks on the screen.”

  Garth swallowed hastily. He was drooling over the proteus and the woman. Doing anything with the woman would only complicate matters for him in the long run, but the proteus was a tool he definitely needed for as long as he was without continual access to Huey. “Is this little one netLINKed with a larger computer?”

  “Yes, yes it is.” Naoko beamed. Garth was definitely different; they’d shown no interest in the proteus, or in the Sheet, choosing to follow their guides around so they could focus on trying to kill each other before they got to the hotel. He was not only handsome, but intelligent as well. “Mine is linked to the port’s system as well as the one I use at home. All of Hospitalis is interconnected through the worldLINK, as I mentioned earlier. All proteii come with search engines that are of immense help in finding what you want; there are fifteen billion people living here, and most of them have some type of information that you can access, even if it is just about who they are and what they do all day. There are sites with membership fees for that acquire specific sets of information, but for most people there’s no need.”

  “Finally!” Garth raised his hands to the heavens and wiped a mock tear from his eye. “Finally!”

  “S…Sa?” Naoko fidgeted from foot to foot, Sheet in hand.

  “I’ve been all over Trinityspace and I’ve set foot on more planets than any million people you’d care to pull out of a phonebook, but here, on Hospitals … the future has arrived.” He sighed happily. “You’ve got no idea how awesome that is.”

  “O… oh.” Naoko nodded her head once. “It is most likely because we have not had a Dark Age, so none of our advancements have been lost.”

  Garth found that a highly unlikely possibility, given that every other parsec of space -whether it was inside or outside the Cordon- got hammered into the past at the same time. The Dark Ages were omnipresent. He pointed at Naoko’s custom proteus. “Are there any places listed on my Sheet where I can get a proteus?”

  “Well … yes, but…” Naoko could see no reason why someone who was only a visitor would want one. It seemed like such a waste of money.

  Garth flashed a winning smile and was rewarded with a sunny return. “It’s as you said, Miss Kamagana. The only way for me to enjoy Hospitalis properly is to convince them to let me stay on as a permanent citizen, and if I’m going to fit in with my new home, I’m going to need a proteus.”

  Through her father -an immigrant from fifty years ago- Naoko knew his chances were next to impossible; successful immigrants from Trinityspace were required to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that their presence would be of inordinate benefit to Latelyspace. In Tomas Kamagana’s case, his unique and groundbreaking insights into non-AI based computational systems had all but revolutionized computer systems. The Chairman at the time had gambled on her father’s knowledge –at the risk of the man’s noted irascibility-, luckily reaping huge rewards: ninety percent of the programming going into a prote today relied on her father’s innovations. Had he not fallen out of favor, things would be … different.

  Beyond Garth’s willingness to fight in The Game and his good looks, Naoko saw nothing that would gain the attention of Chairwoman Doans. She had other things to deal with.

  Naoko smiled warmly at him again. “Is there anything else?”

  Drawn out of a daydream that involved the two of them and a roaring fire, Garth shook his head. “Uh, no, I guess not.”

  “Then,” Naoko held out a hand in traditional Trinity style, “I look forward to seeing you in the Competition.”


  Garth took Naoko’s hand in his, and, in a moment of weakness, kissed it gently instead of shaking it. Garth shagged ass out of the port before he was arrested for violating the personal integrity of a decent and kind Latelian woman.

  Naoko watched Garth leave, flush and her confused.

  xxx

  Unnoticed by either Garth or Naoko, a man, standing by one of the many tall columns in the foyer watched the former depart. His eyes, the color of deep static, flickered thoughtfully. “Deep space ex-dee perturbation explained. Identity verified. Commander N’Chalez located. Scanning.”

  Data rushed into the ‘man’. “Neural sheathing: 95% intact. Memory block: 99% intact. Theoretical Kin’kithal Armamentarium: .01% access.”

  Information flowed out along lines of communication that no one, anywhere in the entire Universe, could detect.

  The ‘man’ considered the data. He nodded, once. “Very well. Testing will commence. Maximum distance from target by all Bravo operatives recommended until the depth of the Kin’kithal’s mutation is discerned. Estimated time to completion, two weeks.”

  More data flowed. The ‘man’ nodded again. Commander Garth N’Chalez of the Armies of Man was dangerous in the extreme. As he was now, there was a chance he could detect their operatives. They were going to push, and push hard. They would witness. They would determine the safest course of action.

  In the fullness of time, they would begin.

  The ‘man’ disappeared in a blizzard-like flash of pixelated noise.

  xxx

  Using the Sheet as a kind of GPS, Garth made his way unerringly to the Hotel Hospitalis. It was, unsurprisingly, extremely close to the Space Port. During his stroll through the streets, he’d noticed something worth bearing in mind; relay stations for the Internet-like netLINK bristled from the tops of many buildings, blanketing the city in a comprehensive swathe of data transferal. As part of the security for those relays, there were many, many cameras. More than was strictly necessary, meaning that until or unless he figured a way to free Huey out from the mountain of Port Authority security, he was going to have operate under the assumption he was being watched all the time.

  Walking up the paved drive to the Hotel, Garth it was easy to see why the ‘Offworld’ contestants were required to stay nowhere else. Mayhap once upon a time, Hotel Hospitalis had been as grand as the name implied, but it’d fallen on seriously hard times since that long-ago likelihood; the faux-riche façade covering the fifteen-story building was in dire need of repair. In some places, whole sections needed replacing altogether. Windows were broken; siding strewn around the base of the building, and the shrubbery was brown, desiccated and otherwise zombified from what could only be intentional neglect. Adding to the ambience of the Hotel of the Unwanted was an indefinable funk lapping at his nose every time the wind blew in from the south.

  Garth checked the Sheet to make sure he’d gotten to the right address. The image on the small device didn’t match up to what was looking at, unless the only requirement was that the proprietors show a hotel, not their own; potential guests thought they were staying in five star luxury, but what they got was the antithesis of luxury. It was antiluxury.

  The Game promoters were a crafty bunch in putting the Offworlders up in the Hotel Hospitalis, that was for damned sure. ‘If’ the contestants got out of hand, repair costs wouldn’t be too high. Judging from the state of things, possibly nonexistent.

  Moreover, the lay of the land put the hotel all on its own for about a kilometer in either direction. The nearest buildings were easily twice the hotel’s height, allowing surveillance and snipers a crystal clear view from every conceivable angle. With professional handlers on-site to keep the Offworlders from wandering off on their own and the supreme coverage for surveillance and the rapid-fire itinerary, the impact Offworld contestants could have on fragile Latelian psyches would be minimal.

  Garth stifled a grin. He was certain of one thing; trying to get in and out of a hotel crammed full of adrenalin soaked, metabolically enhanced, physically modified stooges acting like rowdy teenagers was going to be a breeze.

  Walking through the front door, Garth stifled a shiver as a blast of weapons-grade cold assaulted him. “Oof!”

  “Sorry, sa!” barked a loud, metallic voice.

  Garth stared at the robot by his knees as though he’d just been healed of blindness. “Are you a robot?”

  “Yes, sa!”

  “A real live robot?” Garth grinned like a loon. Of course it was a robot. It had the little articulated legs, little articulated hands and fingers that clicked and clacked. It had big, innocent-looking brilliant yellow square eyes that glowed and an honest-to-goodness triangular aerial that rotated on top of a big square head. With artificial intelligence firmly planted every three feet in Trinityspace, the need for robot aid was virtually nonexistent. And of course, on the other side of the Cordon, there was other stuff way more interesting than robots.

  Robots, in Garth’s opinion, were awesome.

  “I am not alive.” The robot said without emphasis.

  “Yeah, but how can you be a robot and not have AI?” Garth demanded, rubbing his arms and legs to keep warm. Off in the distance, he heard the beginnings of an argument and wondered if he could make it to the check-in desk before things escalated to the point where he’d be involved. There was no point in pretending he wouldn’t be involved, because no matter how hard he tried to stay out of it, someone would choose to involve him. He had an invisible sign around his neck that said ‘Hey, I am Interested in Your Problems and Would Love to Help! Step This Way, Please!’

  “Even if we were in Trinityspace, sa, it would be remarkable for you to find a single robot with artificial intelligence. The resolution to the ADAM Wars prohibits the marriage of mind and machine, even here in Latelyspace.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Garth waved his hand. During their trip to the planet, Huey had proven exceptionally adroit at avoiding any questions surrounding the ADAM Wars and the standardized databanks had been devoid of anything on the topic. Until he had a chance to sit his ass down with the AI properly, anyone else mentioning that particular engagement ran the risk of drawing irritable stares. “So what’s with all this cold air? It’s like a frickin’ igloo in here.”

  “There appears to be an unfixable problem with the environmental controls in the lobby. Everywhere else is functioning normally, I assure you.”

  “If I didn’t know any better,” Garth grinned mischievously as he crouched down to peer into the robot’s lifeless yellow eyes, “I’d say you sounded embarrassed.”

  “That is not possible, sa. For that, I would need AI, and AI is illegal.”

  Garth stood. Regardless of popular opinion, he wondered if the Latelians had breached the gap for artificial intelligence without Trinityspace’s reliance on diamond optics. He’d seen it before, at Tannhauser’s Gate. The plenitude of wireless netLINKs, the obvious complexity of Latelian coding and their undeniable mastery of microscopic circuitry implied a self-generating, nascent consciousness similar to Trinity was quite possible: one of the few things Garth had learned about the Trinity AI was that it its own awareness wasn’t based on any traditional method. No one knew just how the multiple system-spanning AI mind had come into existence or how It did what It did, but Garth’s money was on something like the Latelian set-up. “Where do I register for a room?”

  The argument, coming from one of the banquet rooms off the main hallway, was escalating. It sounded like a pack of snarling dogs were in there, but handlers standing outside the room were far more interested in sharing a cigarette than what was happening three feet away.

  “Certainly, sa. Please follow me.” The robot trundled away, pausing once or twice to make sure Garth was in tow. “This is Si Mijomi. She will take care of you.”

  “Where are you headed?” Garth squinted at the banquet room when something large and breakable collided with the door. The handlers jumped, but did nothing.

  “My sole
duty at this time is to inform patrons of the problems with the air conditioning units. Good day, sa.”

  Garth quirked an eyebrow at the check-in person. “Sa, si … is this some kind of formal title?” Garth just knew he and the woman were going to get along superfine. He was especially confident of their late night talks over the telephone, all from the way her eyes bugged out of her skull.

  Si Mijomi nodded quickly, eyeing the stranger critically. “You are late.” She snapped. As the only hotel on Hospitalis to offer Offworld contestants lodging, Mijomi’s already perpetually thin patience had been stripped to the wire in the last four hours by incessant fighting and garrulous shouting. Forced by Management to tend to the Offworlders during their stay was adding insult to injury; as a proud, card-carrying member of Latelyspace for Latelians, Mijomi found it difficult to even look at one of the Trinity-loving Offworlders without wanting to rush off to the washroom to wash her eyes with bleach. The late addition looked worse than all the others combined.

  “Wow.” Garth raised his hands apologetically. “Sorry to have pissed in your cornflakes.”

  Mijomi briefly tried to puzzle out what cornflakes were before giving up; the man was from Trinity, and that was more than enough. “Whatever. Would you like a room or not?”

  “Yes, yes I would, but first …”

  “What?”

  “What’s the rate of exchange?”

  “For what type of credit?”

  “Trinity.” Garth smiled. He couldn’t believe how uptight the woman was: he would be unsurprised to learn she ran the business on monosyllabic grunts.

  “One moment.” Mijomi consulted her prote. Since it was slaved to the house system and ‘listened’ to all conversations, it could respond to specific words, automatically ferreting out pertinent information. Seeing as how her proteus was already listing conversion rates, Mijomi checked her mail. Her boyfriend was going to drop by for a late dinner, and would come back to pick her up after work, whereupon they would go a rally. When Mijomi looked up, her tormentor was doodling on a Sheet with his finger. “Three to one.”