Artificial Evolution

by Joseph R. Lallo

“You’ve got a built-in radio?” Silo said.

  “Biochemically powered, muscle-impulse controlled, fifteen kilometer range, fully programmable,” he said.

  “Are you aware that yours appears to be the only functioning transmitter on the planet?” Garotte asked.

  “Of course it is! The planet got a degree-zero communication spike. The military calls for them all the time.”

  “Then why does your radio work?” asked Silo.

  “I’m a special agent for VectorCorp. We’ve got override authorization. Obviously someone has to be able to reactivate communications when the time comes. My implant can’t be deactivated, and for my hovercar I decided to make a personal exception.”

  “Did it ever strike you that the radios might have been silenced for a reason, and that you thus might be endangering yourself or others by superseding the order?” Garotte said.

  “If militaries and governments had their way, the radios would always be silent. I can’t let armed-forces idiots stop me from completing my assignment.”

  Silo sighed. “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you? Okay then, what’s your current assignment?”

  “The details of my assignments are confidential.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “Shall I?” Garotte asked, pulling down and securing his seat restraint.

  “May as well,” Silo said.

  “What are you talking about—oh God, what are you doing!?” Ronzone cried as the tank began to pitch to the side.

  Silo secured herself by locking her feet under the edge of one seat as Garotte rolled the tank until it was completely inverted. Now, the only one who was right-side up, glanced down through the hatch and saw the ground several hundred meters below. Silo, carefully bracing herself as she did so, worked her way down to him. Maneuvering was tricky in the cramped space, but she managed to flip over and plant her feet on either side of the hatch and reach down to the restraints.

  “Our military training says we should protect and assist civilians whenever possible. But we’ve decided to make a personal exception,” she explained.

  She swiped her thumb and the cuff released. A look of abject terror was plastered on Ronzone’s face as he plummeted… a dozen centimeters. At that point he discovered that Silo had grabbed his upper arm. He was now dangling from her iron grip while the rushing wind threatened to tear him free.

  “You can’t do this! How are you going to justify killing me for not breaking my company’s confidentiality policy?”

  “We’re not really sanctioned by any official body right now, hon, so there’s no one to justify it to but ourselves. And there are a lot of lives at stake. You might know something that can help us save them. That’ll justify an awful lot to me.” She loosened her grip ever so slightly. “Now, if it wasn’t for us, you’d be robot parts right now. The way I figure it, dropping you is just setting things back on their proper course. Unless you give me a good reason to reconsider.”

  “Fine, fine! My job is to legally eliminate external threats to company stability. I gobble up rival companies, manipulate legislation, all of that. This time my job was to neutralize two people, Trevor Alexander and Michella Modane.”

  “Hah!” Garotte giggled in delight. “Of course you’re here for them.”

  “What exactly do you mean by neutralize?” Silo asked.

  “Cripple them financially, eliminate their professional prospects. Ruin them!”

  “Oh, I so want to drop this man right now,” Silo muttered.

  “Nothing I’m doing is illegal! Alexander is a terrible employee and a habitual violator of dozens of transit laws. He just hasn’t been caught,” Ronzone said, kicking is legs madly.

  “And what about Michella?”

  “She’s given VectorCorp a black eye on more than one occasion. We are under no obligation to continue to fund and facilitate coverage that is destructive to our business.”

  “Pull him in,” Garotte said, angling the controls to right the tank.

  Silo awkwardly yanked Ronzone inside the cramped space and maneuvered herself into the seat. Agent Ronzone lacked the coordination or room to make a similar adjustment and found himself dumped uncomfortably upside down in the remaining space, struggling.

  “Ow! You can’t leave me like this!” he griped.

  Silo turned to Garotte, ignoring Ronzone beyond raising an arm to pin his legs so he couldn’t kick them. “So what did we get out of this, besides this irritable load of corporate scum?”

  “Let me begin by observing that I have vastly underestimated your interrogation potential,” Garotte said.

  “Yeah, well. Let’s just say Mr. Ronzone inspired me in a way I’m not proud of.”

  “Well, I quite like it, my dear. But to the business at hand. What do we know? The military was attempting to shut down research even before the chaos began. That means they had a firm grasp of what may occur.”

  “And one of the first things they did once things started happening was shut down communication. If they knew what the robots would do, that was probably a preplanned procedure,” Silo added.

  “The Gen-Mechs seemed to find our friend here rather appetizing, and his head is the only thing generating an appreciable EM signal.”

  “So you figure communication was shut down because it attracts these things?”

  “Quite likely, and that fits with what Saunders and Dr. Dreyfus observed about their tactics.”

  “Okay… so now that we know that, what do we do with it?” She turned to Ronzone. “And what do we do with him.”

  “Lamentably, I believe he’ll have to stay with us. But the first order of business is to get our ship up and running again. I’ve got no doubt that doing so will provide us with a more than adequate amount of time to plan for the looming concern of what to do to keep these robots from finding any proper meals.”

  Chapter 16

  The SOB dropped down to conventional speeds on the outskirts of a nondescript star system with only one habitable planet—and habitable was a charitable assessment. Big Sigma was a literal trash heap of a place, a waste reclamation facility turned personal laboratory for the brilliant but volatile Karter Dee. As a result, most of the more significant events in Lex’s recent history revolved around Big Sigma in some way.

  From orbit it looked like a fuzzy gray ball, thanks primarily to the dense cloud of orbiting debris that Karter monitored and maintained as a security measure. Getting through it safely was nearly impossible without truly monumental shields or guidance from Ma, Karter’s digital assistant. The trip had been focused on speed, which meant both Lex and Michella hadn’t had a proper shower, a proper bed, or a proper meal in just under two days. Considering the already sour mood they were each in since the start of the trip, and the fact that Michella was giving Lex the unofficial silent treatment, both were eager to get out of the cockpit as soon as humanly possible.

  Lex tapped at the ship’s communicator and selected Ma from his contact list. She answered immediately.

  “Hello, Lex. It is nice to hear from you again so soon.”

  “Hi, Ma. Requesting permission to land,” Lex said.

  “Certainly. I shall upload the guidance data to your navigation system for a manual entry,” she said.

  “Actually, could you just do an autopilot landing? I’m not really in the mood for an obstacle course.”

  “Uploading now. This is an uncharacteristic behavior for you. Your extreme enthusiasm for precision flight is one of your defining traits. Have you experienced a recent emotional trauma?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That is unfortunate. Coordinates loaded. Please acknowledge the autopilot routine. Your entry will take precisely eighty-seven seconds.”

  “Activate and execute autopilot,” Lex said.

  The SOB jerked into motion. Michella stiffened, suddenly deciding to break her silent treatment. “Is that supposed to happen?”

  “It’s fine. Autopilot just lacks the ol’ Lex Finesse,�
�� he explained.

  She looked out the window at the approaching field of debris. Hunks of metal and plastic ranged in size from twinkling dust to whole derelict starships. “And it will be able to get us through this mess?” she said, anxiety in her voice.

  “Ma’s gotten me through much worse than this.”

  “I am pleased to have earned your confidence, Lex. Thank you,” Ma said.

  “You’re welcome.” He turned to Michella. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, by the way. From here on she’s always listening.”

  “I endeavor to be attentive to the needs of my guests,” Ma said.

  In a trip that was boring for Lex and harrowing for Michella, the ship made its way to the surface moving through the calculated voids in the field of orbiting debris. Normally Lex would have been trying to calm his girlfriend down, but in light of their recent tiff, he took no small amount of schadenfreude in listening to her gasp and groan each time a sheet of dislodged plating or an errant bag of garbage threatened to pulverize the ship. He wasn’t entirely heartless, though. He let her hold Squee during the journey. Such a trip was old hat for the funk. She lazily watched the light show of particles clashing against the shield without so much as a whimper or growl. There was something profoundly comforting about clutching a little furry creature who wasn’t the least bit concerned about a terrifying situation.

  “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” Michella hissed, slapping Lex in the back of the head as the ship entered the atmosphere and left the debris behind.

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t you ever, ever make me do that again.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to do it at least one more time to get out of here,” he said. “But next time I’ll probably be at the controls, so it will be much more fun.”

  She seethed as the ship approached the surface. Below them, three blocky industrial buildings sat at equal intervals around the edge of a large gravel courtyard. They were each a few stories tall, and a row of devices along the roof sent a piercing streak of light skyward at seemingly random angles every few moments. The courtyard and a small distance around it was the only patch of land as far as the eye could see that wasn’t dimpled with craters. During the descent they had witnessed no fewer than three meteor strikes on the surrounding landscape. Squee wriggled from Michella’s grasp and perched on Lex’s shoulder to watch the show.

  “Why would any sane human being willingly live here?” Michella asked.

  “That question is not relevant to any of the planet’s permanent residents,” Ma announced over the communicator. “Karter is in the lab. I will land your vessel near the entrance. The exterior temperature is negative fourteen degrees Celsius. If cold weather attire is available to you, it is strongly advised, as there will be a brief entry interview for any first-time visitors.”

  “Entry interview?” Michella asked.

  “It’s super quick. Just speak clearly,” Lex said, pulling on his windbreaker. Their hasty departure meant that most of their clothes were still back on Movi. Those that weren’t were still in the cargo module on the belly of the ship, which was inaccessible from the inside. “Listen, Ma. On the belly of the SOB I’ve got a crate hooked up to a couple of the landing clamps. That’s what we’re going to need analyzed.”

  “Understood. I will dispatch a load lifter, but the process can be expedited if you manually disengage the clamps,” Ma replied.

  “Will do,” he said. “Mitch, you may as well get inside while I’m at it.”

  Michella donned her own windbreaker and braced herself as the ship set down and Lex popped the cockpit. Instantly the blast of cold chilled her. Lex climbed to the hull of the ship and helped her from her seat. By the time he lowered her to the ground and joined her, she was trembling. Lex plucked Squee from his own neck and plopped her around Michella’s, who gratefully cuddled the wonderfully warm ball of fluff and rushed to the door of the nearby building.

  #

  While Lex remained behind to lower the crate and work at the clamps, a small forklift emerged from the service entrance of the lab. Michella looked to the spray-painted label beside the door.

  “Lab?” she said between tooth chatters. “Not even laboratory?”

  She reached the recessed door.

  “Greetings, unknown person. You are new to this facility, so please answer a few short questions before entry. Please state your name,” said Ma through the loudspeaker beside the door.

  “What? But I’ve spoken to the computer before. Do I have to do this?”

  “I’m sorry, your response did not appear to be valid. Please state your name.”

  “Oh, for the love of—” she muttered. “Michella Modane.”

  “It sounded like you said… Michelle Modane. Is that right?”

  “No. Michell-a Modane,” she said with emphasis.

  “It sounded like you said… Michella Modane. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” Michella said impatiently. “Why do you seem to understand everything we say right up until I am waiting to get in?”

  “Processing… There are certain aspects of my functionality that rely upon artifact code,” Ma said. “The entry interview is a rarely accessed and low-priority subroutine that is automatically triggered by the approach of an unfamiliar biological signature. I also find it to be a useful assessment of the overall attitude that a newcomer is likely to adopt during future interactions. Does this answer your question?”

  “Yes, yes. Fine. Any more questions?” Michella said hurriedly.

  The door hissed open and Michella made ready to charge inside.

  “One moment, please,” Ma said.

  “What is it now?”

  “Please brace yourself for artificial gravity and decontamination. Thank you,” Ma said.

  A look of confusion on her face, Michella took a careful step. She felt herself get about 40 percent heavier upon entering the building. The door shut behind her, and nozzles lowered from the ceiling, giving both Michella and Squee a liberal coating of a chemical that tingled on the skin but evaporated in moments.

  “Welcome to the primary research and development facility of Big Sigma. Karter is currently engaged in a time-sensitive equipment test and cannot be disturbed. He will be made aware of your presence at the earliest opportunity. Until then, what can I do to make your stay more enjoyable? Do you require refreshments? Perhaps you would like to freshen up?”

  “Someplace where I can wash my face would be nice,” she said.

  “Certainly. Please follow the green lights.”

  She stepped into the institutional interior of the laboratory and paced down the dimly lit hallway ahead, following a pulsing green glow that crept along the floor between tiles. Squee’s head perked up and she sniffed at the air, hopping down to the ground and sniffing curiously. After a moment, Michella caught a whiff of what had piqued the little creature’s interest.

  “That’s a… unique scent,” Michella said, scrunching up her nose.

  “The natural scent of a funk is somewhat powerful. Lex administers a deodorizing treatment to Squee, but Karter’s personal funk does not receive the same treatment,” Ma explained.

  “Why not?”

  “He does not mind the scent and places low priority on the opinions of others on the matter. Was your journey to Big Sigma an enjoyable one?”

  Michella sighed in irritation. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “As you wish. To your left is the woman’s bathing facility. You are free to make full use of our facilities. If you require a change of clothes, the lockers contain jumpsuits of various sizes. If you require anything else, simply ask.”

  “Okay. Oh! What should I do with Squee?”

  “I will see to it she makes her way safely to Lex.”

  #

  Lex followed the load lifter as it trundled in through the service entrance. The chill had gotten to him, but he was trying to shake it off.

  “What’s Michella up to?” Le
x asked.

  “She is washing her face and inspecting the bathroom facilities. She appears to be considering a shower,” Ma replied from the nearest speaker. “If my interpretations of her verbal responses and body language are accurate, she appears to be in a very bad mood.”

  “Yeah, we got into a fight just as we headed out.”

  “That is unfortunate. What was the topic of the fight?”

  “You know how Preethy has been having me do deliveries to her now and then?”

  “You’ve spoken of it.”

  “Well, it turns out she and Nick Patel are starting a racing league, and they want me to join.”

  “That is wonderful news, Lex. You have long sought a means to reenter competitive racing.”

  “Yeah, except Nick’s a mobster and Michella can’t tolerate the mob, so I had to turn it down.”

  “Is the raceway in some way associated with his criminal activities?”

  “Apparently it is a legitimate enterprise.”

  “Then what bearing would that have on your hypothetical entry into the league?”

  “That’s what I was saying.”

  “If you turned it down, why is there emotional friction between you and Ms. Modane?”

  “Because I got drunk and called Preethy and said I changed my mind.”

  “There seems to be a strong correlation between activities you engage in while inebriated and decisions you subsequently regret.”

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to see a pattern there, too. Anyway, she’s also upset that I’ve been getting a free apartment from Nick and I didn’t tell her.”

  “In our correspondences I’ve suggested there would be repercussions to keeping that information a secret.”

  “Oh, I knew it’d be a problem eventually. I was just betting on eventually taking a little longer to show up.”

  “Does this mean that Michella will be terminating the relationship?”

  “Whoa, hey. Let’s not go there right now. We’ve got this killer robot thing to deal with, remember?”

  “Yes. Your capacity to become involved in potentially catastrophic situations is a source of continuous fascination.”

  “I’m a lucky guy, Ma. How soon can Karter get started?”