by Lee Bond
“Um.” Turuin wasn’t joking. In point of fact, the entire data-sharing system Latelyspace enjoyed was virtually non-existent everywhere else in populated space, even past the Cordon. In Trinityspace, AI managed everything. You asked for data and it was given to you. There was no social aspect whatsoever, and past the Cordon … it was different again.
“At no extra cost, the proteus is also fully customizable for the fashion minded…” Turuin grinned. The sale was definitely his.
“Hmmmm.” Garth tabbed through a dozen more pages, even though he was pretty certain he was going to buy one. “Say, uh, Sa Turuin, how complex can the proteus get?”
“Sa?” Turuin asked quizzically. “The Protipal is capable of processing a vast number of different things. It really depends of what sort of software you choose to run. What were you thinking of?”
“Well, see … here’s the thing.” Garth cleared his throat nervously, looked over at the other two bored salesmen. “I … sort of invent things … for the people I used to work. And … well … look, if I break some kind of Latelian law here in a minute, don’t lose your head. Can the Protipal simulate a three-dimensional programming environment?”
“Eh?” Turuin smiled blankly.
Garth hoped he didn’t press too hard. “Can this proteus program in three dimensions? Could I code in 3D?”
“I assume so, sa. It’s just a matter of setting the environment up properly, no?” Turuin shrugged nonchalantly before leaning in. “Why would you think I’d be upset at a legitimate question like that? I’ve had people ask me if their prote can spy on someone else’s, or if they can corrupt data from a remote location. Sadly, the answer is yes, and we see it on the newsfeeds all the time. Such a horrible misuse of a flexible tool. If you wanted to program in three dimensions, I’m certain your Protipal could handle it. Though,” Turuin explained quietly, “you do realize that if you were caught, there’s a very good chance that you would get into some serious legal trouble. After all, you are an Offworlder. Also, it would only be simulated, not the actual deal. In order for 3D programming to work, you would need an actual AI-capable machine. I suppose you could use it to test the code, though, to see if it would crash or work properly. It’d definitely be a technical challenge to see if you could get a program like that to run. I’d be interested in seeing the results. If that is something you’re going to want to try, I would also like to suggest you purchase the holographic emitter upgrade; with it, you can create a workspace of approximately two square feet. I assume that would help?”
“Absolutely.” Garth rubbed his hands together.
“Wonderful. I assume you’ll be buying one today? Shall we sit and get started on the details?”
“Yeah, let’s.” He was going to be able to fix Huey’s deteriorating thought processes after all, and maybe more than that, if the whole proteus setup worked the way he imagined it did.
In the end, he designed his Protipal to be the blackest of blacks trimmed with gently throbbing golden lines at the seams. The screen, when activated, burned with liquid golden fire. He felt cooler just wearing it.
It fit snugly on his left arm, from just above the wrist to just below the elbow. He’d learned from Turuin that the proteus was a successful wearable computer because of its flexibility; by tweaking the atomic structure of duronium prior to electroplating, the crafty Latelians had figured out how to keep most of the alloy’s durability but make it comfortable to wear. True to Turuin’s claims, the holo-emitter did generate a nice virtual workspace that was eminently suited to 3D programming.
After careful probing, Garth was able to glean nothing further from the salesman, who either didn’t know enough about the physical aspects of the tools he sold, or just didn’t care. Whatever else could be said about the Latelians, Garth was forced to admire their tenacity when it came to their wonder-metal. They might not ever discover the methods of moving up the metallurgical ladder, but they’d squeezed every last workable ounce out of duronium, that was for sure.
He also shelled out a staggering thirty thousand dollars for the main unit blueprints; there was just no way he could countenance not being able to use this new system anywhere but Latelyspace. If he ever went back to Trinityspace, he’d want it fully functional.
The wearable unit was done in less than fifteen minutes, but the primary unit was going to take a few days to prepare. In a fit of pique, Garth had asked that the shop send the unit to the Hotel, care of the small robot. He knew it’d only fan Si Mijomi’s fury, but he didn’t give a crap. The more pissed off Mijomi was, the better.
True to Naoko’s promises, his new proteus was jam-packed with vital information. Seconds after activation, the device began pulling data from hundreds of legal sources continually being broadcast around the world, around the system. The wealth of information flowing through Hospitalis was amazing. The entire civilization was online in some form or other, and they’d let just about anyone into their lives.
Some jiggery-pokery with the proteus eventually yielded the GPS system –it was located in a different area than on a Sheet- and he was once again astonished at the depth of detail. It shared many features with the one Naoko had uploaded to the Sheet, but the files he now perused were apparently updated by digital satellites far above their heads. By playing around with the tool, Garth was able to dial the minimap’s resolution down to such detail that he could actually see the rocks beneath his feet. Attempts to render his presence real-time from the satellites above generated an annoying ‘helper avatar’ asking for access codes or a simply perverted amount of money to continue. Garth told the avatar to go screw itself.
Hugely pleased with how his day was finally going, Garth loaded the Sheet-data onto his proteus, and then hunted through the files in search of The Game office building in Central. He noted with a grimace that the registration office was smack dab in the middle of the biggest city on the planet. Another avatar informed him that travel by cab would take forty minutes. Counting his run-in with the gangsters, he’d wasted an hour getting to the bank, and almost another hour inside. He’d eaten another hour in the proteus shop; as an Offworlder, there’d been a crapload of official documents to fill out before Turuin could legally to sell him a proteus.
“Oh well.” Garth keyed in a request for a taxi. If he pissed someone off by being gone for more than the four hours, he’d deal with it when the time came.
Garth loved cabbies. Loved them. In all his travels, he’d never met a group of people who knew more about what was going on or who were more inclined to jabber on about what they knew to total strangers. During the forty minute drive to The Game offices, he learned in short order that there were two main gangs of thugs running Port District, that half a dozen politicians had been fired for illegal activities with known terrorist groups, four Game promoters died in a fire over the weekend, the Chairwoman was sleeping with the OverCommander for the God Soldiers and he, an Offworlder, was going to have his head caved in the moment he set foot outside of the cab because people outside Port didn’t much care for Offworlders. The cabbie explained the last matter-of-factly, mentioning that he didn’t care whom he gave a ride to so long as he got paid. As they pulled up outside his destination, Garth tipped the driver an extra hundred dollars and asked if he’d wait around.
“Sure thing.” The cabbie pulled into a parking spot and turned his ‘busy’ sign on. “Money’s time.”
MACHINATIONS OF A MACHINE MIND
“Ingrams.”
Historical Adjutant Kant Ingrams looked up from his work the moment he heard his name. A quick check on the security cameras mounted on the wall behind him showed no one was likely to come by in the next few minutes, giving him leave to have this most important conversation in uninterrupted privacy. Ingrams rose, locked the door to his office, and sat back down. “Here, sir.”
The Trinity AI’s voice was asexual and crisp for this meeting. The last time the ruler of Humanity had spoken with Kant, shortly after the Pluto Dig had been can
celed, It had spoken as a rumbling basso profundo male. “Garth Nickels has left Trinityspace.”
Nonplussed, Kant sent a request through his personal AI for all the data he’d accumulated on Nickels; owing to the particulars of the man’s assignment, the data he did have was sparse. He was momentarily nonplussed at Nickels’ abrupt bid for freedom, but only momentarily. His opinions on the man were already well known.
An impossible thought reared its ugly head. “He has penetrated the Cordon on his own? That’s supposed to be impossible.”
“It remains impossible.” Trinity replied evenly.
“Then …” Ingrams licked his lips while he tracked an errant thought. “What is he doing in Latelyspace?”
“He is following his instincts.”
“Ah. I … see.” Even though years had passed since the assignment, Kant still firmly believed the entire group had willfully misrepresented themselves. He held no resentment towards Trinity’s ultimate decisions; there was no point in harboring ill will towards an entity so vast and powerful that your life meant nothing at all. Ingrams did feel a small burst of vindication, though. Garth Nickels freeing himself from the albatross of a Tynedale/Fujihara debt and taking off for the one place in the entire Universe that seemed to offer answers was all the proof he needed to know he’d been right all along.
“In the course of your investigations, you were alerted by a colleague that the Latelians are in possession of a ship similar to the one the Decantees were stored in. What were your conclusions?”
Kant reread the data as it came through. “As I expected, they rigorously denied me access to their system. As a show of good faith, however, they provided me with enough high-resolution holographic footage of the ship and record logs of the discovery to competently analyze and compare vessels. In the end, I determined that the similarities were nothing more than statistical anomalies.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Kant nodded fluidly. “They went so far as to provide me with the metallurgical breakdown of their ‘Box’. I went over the data meticulously. Taking into consideration that the irrationally paranoid Latelians would have taken great pains to alter their data, the duronium alloy they use is greatly advanced, but is in no way consistent with the alloy or metal of our ‘ship’. They are as night and day. As for the exterior designs and general shape of their Box… long-term comparisons of thousands of ships of similar nature show a tendency for designers to follow a specific type. Spaceships are … squarish.” Kant sent the data he’d gathered in the course of his investigation off. “My personal opinion is that The Box was designed in a Latelian laboratory five thousand years ago in an attempt to bolster a failing civilization. From the history of the time, I would say it worked, and very well. My opinion is that Garth Nickels is wasting his time. They will certainly not allow him access to it, leaving them open to the man’s savage talents. For all their obsession on the nature of religion, they worship their national treasure.”
“He will gain access and with their leave.” Trinity corrected. “Shortly after your request for data, the Latelians adjusted their policy on Tourism by allowing Trinity citizens to join in their ‘Game’. Garth has joined the Offworld contingent and plans on using this cover to achieve his goals.”
“What would you like me to do, sir? It’s unlikely in the extreme that anyone will ever open that Box of theirs. The indication on these new files,” Kant gestured to his screen, which flowed with summations of Trinity pilots allowed to make stops in Latelyspace, “seems to be that the Latelians are in trouble again. Letting someone open their Box would be disastrous. If,” Kant added after a moment’s thought, “it’s even built to be opened.”
“I am not interested The Box, its design similarities to the ship from Pluto or the Latelian predisposition towards self-destruction.” Trinity said patiently. “It is true that the Latelians are in a state of disastrous civil flux at the moment. In an effort to swing their society away from a regime built on tyranny, the Chairwoman has begun acclimatizing her people to Us. Naturally, the most effective tactic to build on this is to allow Trinity soldiers, mercenaries, or criminals to fight in their Game; if the general population can be made comfortable with their presence in that most cherished venue, they can be made to accept more frequent visitors. This has made the Chairwoman very unpopular. So unpopular that their society sits on the brink of a civil war that will tear their planets apart should the bubble burst. Before being permitted to enter Latelian space, Garth Nickels was required to make his service record from Special Services available to the proper authorities. I will not make his full files available to you, but this précis should suffice. He has been busy.”
“I … see.” Kant nodded after a lengthy silence. It was appalling that Garth Nickels, allegedly an amnesiac from literally before the dawn of time, had been permitted to continue on in SpecSer once his profound talent at mayhem was discovered; it didn’t matter to Kant that Nickels had performed beyond admirably in pursuit of Trinity’s expansionist goals. What mattered most was that the man was dangerous. Alas, he was not in any position to gainsay It. Vague mention of an ‘adaptive genetic morphology’ did not sit well, either; Ingrams had never believed for a second that their equipment had been ill suited to plumb the depths of those ancient liars. More believable was the thought that their genetic enhancements had been … ‘protected’ … in a manner similar to their memories.
“The Chairwoman and her military advisors undoubtedly imagine Nickels’ presence is indicative of some ulterior motive on Your behalf. Rightly or wrongly, they must believe that if they catch him doing something … improper … they can use his previous skills as a testament to your duplicity. Why else would he be in their system, they would think. Large-scale, they would attempt to curry favors or incite riots against those who chafe under your command. They could be successful; the Sovereignty Act You provided them with is quite formidable. Others might join their banner, seek to conquer systems you own.”
“Ordinarily, I would not care. The petty machinations of individuals have little concern for me; the ‘pressure’ you allude to would have no effect on my plans for Humanity. Any favor they would curry with quiet detractors would do them little good. I honor their sovereignty for one reason alone; their seeming immunity to Dark Ages that so plague the rest of Humanity.” Trinity paused. “Someone in the government has given Garth Nickels the freedom to do whatever he chooses. Since he believes he is connected to this Box, that ‘whatever’ will most definitely be catastrophic for Hospitalis. If he is not the victor in the Offworld portion of the Game, he will seek access any way possible, and it is definite he will react poorly when it is discovered that The Box is a cunning fake.”
“Those actions would not fall under the purview of Historical Adjutancy, sir. His tendencies towards violence and civil destruction would best be handled by one of your other governmental agencies.” Kant didn’t particularly care arguing with Trinity, but there was little else he could do; since Garth was loose, anything he did fell more towards the Army, or better still, the Enforcers. The brief, oh so brief, bit of information Trinity had revealed concerning Nickels’ actual duties within Special Services was hair-raising to say the least. The last years of the man’s time with SpecSer apparently had him doing Deep Cordon Strikes with Heavy Elites … impossible.
The meeting with Trinity was ever-more confusing.
“I do not want you to go to Hospitalis in your official capacity as Historical Adjutant, Kant Ingrams.” Trinity said chidingly, as if Kant was the stupidest person in the world. “Garth Nickels’ gravnetic shield generators may have set off a chain reaction, resulting in a rapid escalation of the coming Dark Age. I want you to go to Hospitalis as a member of the Dark Age Cabal. I want you to address Nickels, to convince him to return to Trinityspace so that he might turn his potent talents to the task of turning aside this next Age. If he remains on Hospitalis during this turbulent period, there is a very high probability that he will die, but not
before setting that system afire. Both are situations I wish to avoid at all costs. I may be willing to lose one or the other, but not both.”
“I … see.” He was repeating himself, but there was nothing for it; that Trinity was aware of his ‘illegal’ activities in the Dark Age Cabal was disheartening, but not altogether unsurprising. The galactic AI had been in place all of Man’s journey through the stars. It was shocking however, to be authorized by the Trinity AI to act on Its behalf. And the task! To persuade someone like Nickels to join an organization that was, at its heart, fundamentally against rule-by-AI? Ingrams knew he wasn’t smart enough to see through the many layers of the machine ruler, but tasking someone as obviously dangerous as Garth Nickels to do anything involving the Dark Age approaching...
“Do … do you want me to do more than persuade him, if it comes down to it?” As a Senior Historical Adjutant, Kant had a great many tools at his beck and call. All that was required was permission from Trinity Itself, and while he was in nowhere near the league of an Enforcer, it was theoretically possible that he alone could waylay Nickels. Adaptive morphology. Was it possible that their genetic modifications had been useless until needed? It explained why the scans had come back as they had, but the technology behind creating someone who could, through the process of will or threat assessment alone become stronger, or faster … it was mind-blowing.
