Artificial Evolution

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “You were the one who reintroduced the topic, Ms. Modane.”

  Michella blinked away tears that had frustratingly returned to her eyes and read through the notes. What this computer was saying was nonsense, clearly. She’d just focus on the work and straighten out the relationship stuff after. That’s what she’d always done. That’s what she would do now.

  Under the heading “Unique Features of Movi and Neighboring Systems” was a wealth of information. The data was presented as phrases, which, at a tap, could be drilled down into far greater detail. Unfortunately, as she scanned the list, it became clear that wealth might not be the word to describe it. Most of the information was worthless. It was the sort of thing the network would hand her if she asked for a brief on an area. Movi had the largest tree-to-human ratio of any developed world. Three of the stars in that region of space had a larger-than-average number of rocky planets in orbit. Movi was slated to become a center for pharmaceutical research thanks to large portions of the planet that were climate-appropriate for rare and valuable plant species. She was about to move on to the next topic when something caught her eye.

  “Closest populated world to the Spark Light Region.” She tapped this subheading and began to read. “‘Fifty-one years ago the star Norvel Signus began to emit constant and disruptive quantities of coronal material. The intense and sustained solar activity continued for months and rendered the area unfit for human exploration or habitation. Five planets in the area were in the process of being prepared for human settlement, and one was in use as an extreme-climate training ground for Teeker Space Marines. Since the increase in solar emissions, an actively enforced military quarantine has been in place. The star’s activity returned to nominal levels four months after the start of the anomalous behavior, but a joint military and civil survey of the star indicated a high risk of reoccurrence. The quarantine remains in place.’”

  Michella’s brain finally shrugged off the emotional impact of the recent conversation as the facts began to clash in her mind.

  “Wouldn’t they do a stellar survey before attempting to colonize a system?”

  “Yes. A survey was done thirty-five years prior. The star was found to be stable,” Ma stated.

  “Is it possible for a star to suddenly become unstable?”

  “Stars can go through periods of stability and instability, but survey techniques, even those in use at the time of the initial survey, have a high success rate at identifying stars at risk of instability. Over its life, a star can shift to a cyclically unstable state, but the process takes place on a stellar time frame. Measurable alterations in activity would arise over a number of centuries,” Ma said.

  “So this was probably a fluke.”

  “Or engineered.”

  “Oh?”

  “There exist several means to stimulate instability in a star, notably including the Coronal Mass Ejection Activator of Karter’s design, and its precursor devices.”

  “Mmm… definitely stick a pin in that for later. But even if the story is true and this was a natural fluke, why still have an active military quarantine? You’d think marking the area as high risk would be enough.” She scrolled down for more data. “Is this all of the information available?”

  “Yes. It is a sparsely documented event.”

  “Sparse documentation of an event that affected an entire star system stinks of cover-up,” she mused, marking the issue for further investigation.

  Her eyes darted along the list of data, but a long string of uninteresting or irrelevant information allowed Ma’s words to creep back into her head. She returned to the former argument as though she’d never left it.

  “He’s had dealings with the mob before, you know. That’s why he got kicked out of racing in the first place,” she snapped. “I have every reason to be concerned.”

  “This is true, but this opportunity is at least presented as being unlinked to the criminal activities of those involved. Furthermore, assuming that any exposure to organized crime will cause him to become involved once more indicates the belief that Lex cannot or will not learn from his mistakes. It is thus a further sign of distrust.”

  “You’re not going to convince me that there is nothing wrong with what he’s doing. There is no safe way to deal with the mob.”

  “It is not my intention to convince you of anything. I am merely making and attempting to validate observations and speculations. Perhaps you are externalizing an interior struggle by projecting the voice of opposition upon me.”

  “… How the hell does Lex put up with you?”

  “We’ve become accustomed to one another’s quirks. His patience regarding my social flaws has at times been remarkable. I now see how he developed his tolerance.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your behavior, like my own, can appear nonsensical and frustrating to others. He has implied, perhaps in jest, that this is a trait common among females.”

  “He can be a real child sometimes…”

  “On that point we can agree.”

  #

  “Am I going to get a lollipop after this?” Lex asked.

  He was sitting shirtless on a stretcher in the laboratory’s clinic. Like every other portion of the facility under Ma’s care, the clinic was spotless. That didn’t stop it from being horrifying and alien. Karter had unique medical needs. He tended to keep what he called an “anatomical census” listing the tally of how much of his body was synthetic, cybernetic, or natural at any given time. The natural portion of the pie was well below half at this point, and thus the sort of things needed to keep him healthy and functional were a good deal more varied than the typical doctor’s office might stock. Along one wall was a complicated assembly mechanism with a rack of three arms and three legs beside it. Each limb was almost indistinguishable from the real thing, though they were bloodless and therefore a bit pale. A well-lit case held cybernetic eyes, some little more than chrome spheres, and others semihuman. For some reason he’d never bothered matching his eye color, so even the best of them sported a chrome iris. Assorted filter and pump contraptions were most likely duplicate internal organs. Upping the creepiness of the room by three notches was the “procedure arm” attached to the stretcher. It looked like something used for automobile assembly, had hot-swappable tool heads, and was responsible for any major surgeries that were called for. The fact that soldering irons, lasers, and impact wrenches were all installed on a medical instrument was unsettling.

  Currently the arm had a sensor head attached and was sweeping in a precise sequence of motions around Lex’s mildly swollen shoulder. Squee lounged on the stretcher beside him.

  “I am afraid we do not keep lollipops on hand. If you like, I can prepare an oatmeal raisin cookie for you,” Ma said. “Alternately, I can synthesize a lollipop if you prefer.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I was joking. Why exactly did I have to take off my shirt?” Lex asked.

  “To produce a higher fidelity medical image and reduce the wait time necessary if I determine a procedure is required.” The arm stopped suddenly and retracted. “A procedure is required.”

  His eyes opened wide. “What procedure?”

  Two padded mechanical grippers flipped up from beneath the stretcher and clamped down on his bicep and over his shoulder, holding them rigidly immobile.

  “There is moderate ligament damage. I will perform an arthroscopic procedure to remove the damaged tissue, insert a protein lattice, and inject a tissue growth stimulant.”

  As she spoke, the procedure arm injected his shoulder with a numbing agent and went to work. Despite the fact he felt absolutely nothing as she went about the repair, it was in no way a pleasant experience. The sound and smell of one’s own flesh being seared open with a laser is something one never becomes used to.

  “A word of warning would not be out of place, Ma.”

  “It is my experience that when you are warned of potentially painful experiences you tense your mu
scles, which would have caused significantly more pain,” Ma explained.

  “I’d have been okay with that…” He winced and turned his head as a chunky slurping sound filled the air, and he noticed a surge of red disappear up one of the tubes of the device. “If it meant that I’d have been prepared for the whole vacuuming-meat-out-of-your-shoulder part of the procedure.”

  “I’m curious how one would prepare for such a thing,” Ma said.

  “I don’t know, but it would have been nice to try.”

  He watched uneasily as the mechanical arm cycled through a few heads, rooted around inside his shoulder, then injected a tan-colored goop into the incision.

  “Please hold still for seventeen seconds while the bonding agent sets,” Ma instructed.

  “Any chance you’re ready to come clean about that whole situation with Michella?” he asked.

  “I am sorry to say that I have further mishandled the situation. I have confirmed my suspicions, but I have made two more discoveries. The first: I am quite certain sharing with you the information I’ve discovered would cause a drastic increase in the tension between the three of us, as Michella would be very displeased.”

  He grumbled. “Keep it to yourself then. I don’t need her getting any more upset. What was the second observation?”

  “I find Michella to be an unpleasant and illogical person.”

  He laughed. “We’ve had a rough couple of days. She’s great when you get to know her.”

  “Getting to know her is the means through which I determined that she is unpleasant and illogical. It seems unlikely that a deeper knowledge will reverse my opinion. The bonding agent is set and you may move.” The grippers released and Lex tested his arm while a second mechanical arm placed a small platform down on the stretcher beside him. “Squee, please step onto the scale so that I may record your weight.”

  “Up,” Lex said, snapping and pointing to the scale. The creature quickly obeyed. “Squee’s smart, Ma, but I think you’ve got to be a little simpler with your orders.”

  “Having occupied her neurological pathways, I can safely say that her intelligence and comprehension vastly exceeds your estimations. However, now that I have fully processed her memories, I believe I understand your concerns and displeasure with her usage of your slidepad. I will attempt to develop a recommendation for combatting this behavior, since your repeated requests for her to stop seem to have been ineffective.”

  “I can’t help but notice her little impulse purchases tend to be things from your shopping list before our mission,” he said, putting his shirt on.

  “I had observed this as well. It is most likely an artifact from my residency, but attempting to correct it procedurally would damage the personality and behavior that define Squee’s identity.”

  He reached down and tousled the creature’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Hold still, Squee. Secure her, please, Lex. I need a blood sample.”

  Lex put his hand on Squee’s side while the procedure arm outfitted itself with a syringe. The funk jumped slightly when pricked but otherwise seemed unbothered by the procedure.

  “Analyzing. I am pleased to say that Squee’s health falls well within acceptable parameters, Lex. I’ve finished processing her memories and will now upload them. For her comfort, she will be sedated during this process, and it will take approximately forty-seven minutes. Continue holding her.”

  Ma swiftly applied a mask over Squee’s muzzle. The funk tried to pull out of it, but a single breath was all it took to send her into a deep slumber. Lex laid her on her side, and a moment later Ma applied a cable to the port on her neck.

  “So how is this going to be for her?”

  “I will not know her precise feelings on the procedure until it has been applied a second time, as at that time I will have access to her memories of experiencing it, but she should not be able to notice a difference. While she has access to perfect recall of her memories, her behavior is still largely like that of a standard funk, and as such she seldom if ever makes direct use of the ability. She should not notice the decreased fidelity of her recollections.”

  “Good… Say, we were talking about food before. What sort of stuff do you have in your pantry?”

  “The list is extensive. Though Karter’s diet is not varied, he is also exceedingly impatient when cravings arise, so I keep a respectable stock and maintain the chemical capacity to synthesize basic ingredients.”

  “Can you give me the list? I think I want to make something.”

  “I would be happy to prepare something for you.”

  “It’s important that I be the one to make it. You’ll see.”

  Chapter 19

  Michella looked wearily at the screens around her. Her analysis and notes had expanded to cover every centimeter of screen space available. She’d spent hours working over the information she had, and copious notes on a pad of paper had summarized what amounted to very little insight. Empty bottles of water were scattered about, along with the remains of an energy bar. After a long yawn, Michella stood and began working her way through a sequence of stretches and calisthenics.

  “Please explain the purpose of this behavior,” Ma said.

  “Gotta get the blood flowing. Been sitting in one place too long, my brain is starting to stagnate,” she said. “How long until the next communication window?”

  “Seven minutes and eleven seconds.”

  “I don’t understand how whenever Trevor needs to call you he can get through just fine.”

  “Lex’s various communication systems have been modified to communicate with our systems on a low-bandwidth high-correction protocol that has been custom coded to operate through our debris field.”

  “But it still uses the regular communication network, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, utilizing the utility band of the network that permits arbitrary data formats to be broadcast within certain parameters.”

  “Couldn’t you just put a satellite outside the debris that talks to you on that signal and translates it to something other people can use?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Karter values his privacy and prefers the level of access control this provides.”

  “Well, it is damn inconvenient at a time like this.”

  “You have only processed seventeen percent of the available data. The data input is already vastly exceeding your analysis capacity. Increased communication would only intensify this imbalance.”

  “I’m not a computer, Ma. I don’t process all of the information.”

  “I am pleased to know you are aware of your inadequacy in this regard.”

  She stopped exercising and scowled. “It isn’t inadequacy, it’s intuition. You find the leads and then follow them. And let’s remember you agreed to keep your snippiness to a minimum when we are investigating.”

  “We are not investigating. You are engaging in an invigoration ritual and complaining about our communication policies.”

  “While investigating,” Michella said.

  “One moment… Lex has requested to be led to your current location.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “He has, at his request, been given the equipment and ingredients to prepare something he calls a mitch-accino. He suggests you will be interested in—”

  “Send him up.”

  “As you wish. The aforementioned concoction appears to be primarily a delivery mechanism for caffeine and sugar.”

  “Journalism runs on caffeine and sugar. It is exactly what I need right now.”

  “I see. As I value my friendship with Lex greatly, and I feel confident he would not be pleased with my recent interactions with you, I request that you be discreet regarding our discussion beyond the confines of research until it has reached a conclusion. Doing so would earn you a measure of my gratitude, and in exchange I will refrain from revealing any of my recently confirmed spec
ulations.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said flatly.

  A few moments later Lex knocked on the door. Before Michella could press the control, Ma hissed it open. Lex wasn’t standing there. Instead he thrust his hand in from the side, holding a tall, steaming tumbler. It was precisely the way one might have waved a white flag. Michella marched up to the doorway, plucked it from his hand, and drew in a long, soothing whiff of the aroma.

  When the cup didn’t come hurling out the door, Lex cautiously stuck his head out. Michella was savoring the cup’s contents.

  “You’re far from perfect, Trevor, but no one makes one of these like you,” she sighed after a sip.

  “The beverage is a heated mixture of espresso, chocolate, and milk. In what way is a ‘mitch-accino’ different from a mochaccino?” Ma asked.

  “Mocha uses cocoa powder, this uses melted chocolate or chocolate syrup. Mochaccino has frothed milk on top, this doesn’t. Also most mochaccinos will use one shot of espresso, this uses two,” he rattled off.

  “That is a very precise explanation,” Ma said.

  “It was my job to make these whenever Mitch was cramming for a final in college.”

  “You are remarkably attentive to Ms. Modane’s needs.”

  “Oh, give it a rest,” Michella snapped. “Your electronic mother has been lecturing me at every opportunity about how everything you want is so reasonable and how everything I want is so wrong. I swear, if you sicced her on me…”

  “I beg to differ, Ms. Modane. I have been discussing the similarities between your own wants and needs and those of Lex, and the perceived inequality of your indulgence of your own needs while denying Lex a similar opportunity. Lex in no way ‘sicced’ me on you. These observations were my own.”

  “Ma… please tell me you haven’t been arguing with Michella this whole time. Things were bad enough.”

  “It was not an argument. It was a sequence of observations and speculations, which Ms. Modane was incapable of adequately countering.”

  “Is she on your S-List now?”

  “Indeed, and since she has not adhered to our verbal agreement regarding the details of our interactions, I see no reason to conform to it either. Lex, it may interest you to learn that Ms. Modane’s birth name is—”