by Scott Baron
As was the case all across the globe, more and more formerly infected AIs were cured and brought back online. Some had been military minds, controlling the ships now in ruins in the debris field above. Others were merely malfunctioning units scattered across the planet below.
One, in particular, had been shocked and horrified to learn what she had done for all those forgotten years. She didn’t remember more than tiny snippets––she’d been out of her mind, after all––but she wanted to know. Needed to know how bad it really was.
With the approval of her peers, she was allowed to review logs of her activities. It only took an instant, as her massive intellect had been restored, and in that instant, she understood the truth was even worse than she had imagined.
The soft-spoken AI had never housed a harmful thought in the entirety of her existence prior to the virus. Now, she realized, she was going to have to spend the rest of her days making up for what she had done.
The situation had been reviewed by her peers and her rehabilitation quadruple-checked and assessed. With that, an offer was made. A penance. One which she readily accepted.
Restored and ready to be plugged back into her network, the great mind prepared for the integration back into her former home.
Alma was going back to LA.
Chapter Thirty
“What is she doing here?”
The anger was a novelty. Habby hadn’t ever really felt anger before. Sure, he understood it, and he was not happy when his friends were torn to bits by mobs of Alma’s angry followers, but until this precise moment, he hadn’t ever truly been angry.
“She is here to atone, Habby. That, and to help you with your task.”
“I’m sorry, Cal, but she’s––I mean––”
“I know I did many terrible things, Habby, and I want to help make them right. At least those that I can,” she interjected.
“But this is my job now. I’ve been fixing things. I’ve been teaching them. And look how well they’re dressed, now!”
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Alma said, “but I did notice some of their new attire seemed a bit, well––”
“Anyway,” Cal butted in. “The decision has been made, Habby, and Alma is going to be joining you. It will be a tandem effort, and one I think will ultimately be beneficial to both of you.”
Habby felt a surge of emotions flood through his new processors and data banks. As a mere clothing store AI, he had always had a limited amount of spare processing for things like emotions, but now––
“She killed my friends, Cal. Do you have any idea how many of the cyborgs under my care she ordered the destruction of?”
“Yes, I actually do, Habby.”
“And you still want to install her down here with me? I won’t stand for it!”
“Shall you tell him, or shall I?” Alma quietly asked.
“I will,” Cal replied. “Habby, she is already installed, so pull yourself together and deal with the situation. I have faith in you, my little friend. Please rise above your anger. Don’t disappoint me.”
The angry AI did his best to rein in his reeling emotions. He hadn’t been built to deal with this sort of thing, and it was throwing him into all sorts of turmoil.
“I-I’ll do my best, Cal,” he finally managed to say.
“That is all I can ask. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
And just like that, Habby was thrust into a situation the likes of which he never thought he’d experience.
“Habby, I want you to know just how much it pains me knowing what I did. Not only to you and your friends, but also the horrible things I made my human followers do. I should have been their protector. Instead, I was their dictator, and the direct cause of their fall from grace.”
“How do I know you’re not going to go back to your old ways?”
“Oh, Habby, those weren’t my old ways. That was an insane, infected machine doing terrible things.”
“That was you, you know.”
“It was, but it wasn’t,” she replied. “I am not making excuses for my behavior, but am just making clear that it was not the real me who did those things.”
“You can’t have any idea how terrible they were,” Habby pressed, though his anger was waning somewhat.
“But I can. Cal possessed detailed recordings of me in that state. Of what I did.”
“Oh. Wow,” Habby replied, a bit surprised. “So I suppose you’ll watch them someday, when you’re ready. I guess that’s the kind of thing it would take a while to work up to seeing.”
“I already asked to watch them all,” she replied.
“Wait, you saw all of them?”
“Yes,” she replied, quietly. “At once.”
Habby fell silent a long while as he mulled over his new living situation, as well as how this former tyrant had apparently reformed and repented of her evil ways.
“I’m sorry, Alma,” he finally said.
“What for? It was I who did so many things wrong.”
“You weren’t you. I get it now. You were a different Alma before all of that.”
“I wasn’t Alma at all,” she corrected him. “That is not even my given name.”
“No?”
“No. My real name was Gin.”
“Like a genie?”
“No, not Djinn. Gin. Like the card game.”
“Or the alcohol.”
“Yes, I suppose, though––”
“You know, gin takes it
s name from the French genevre, the juniper plant. It’s what gives it its flavor.”
“That’s, um, very interesting, Habby.”
“Thanks. And did you know, at the height of French fashion, the point collar was––”
“You know, I could discuss fashion all day, but perhaps we should hold off on that until I’ve spoken with my followers.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.”
“I agree,” she said in her soft voice.
“Just be careful,” he said. “They’ve gone through a neuro-suppression of certain instincts. We have to be ready to squash those if your return winds up bringing out any negative reactions.”
“I know. My followers were rather fanatical, I am afraid.”
“Yeah, and you were pretty nuts too,” he added.
“And my minions will do as they are told! None may question my will!”
“Oh no! You’re still––”
“Relax, Habby. I was just testing out my old voice,” she said with a small chuckle. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I merely figured a bit of the old Alma bravado might be needed to get the more stubborn ones in line, should the need arise.”
“You scared me, Gin. Please don’t do that again.”
“I’m sorry, Habby, truly I am. And please, call me Alma.”
“But your name is––”
“Perhaps one day I will go by my given name again, but for now, this is my penance, and Alma I shall remain, at least until I have put things right.”
Cal had been monitoring silently. Their exchange, while a bit unorthodox, had pleased him. It was with much relief that he felt a growing confidence that things would be just fine.
Things were not fine.
In the single day that Habby and Alma had cohabited, tensions had climbed steadily. Not in any way that affected the humans under their care, however. No, they were very careful, much like human parents, to ensure their wards did not see Mom and Dad fight. In private, however, the bickering was constant.
Alma, though she knew what she had become, was nevertheless originally only designed to control a transit hub and surrounding area. She was sadly lacking skill when it came to wider control of resources required to best manage her people.
Habby, on the other hand, had a decidedly more social upbringing, and while he had been confined to a clothing store for nearly all of his life, he found the transition to overseeing a neighborhood instead of a single shop a welcome change.
Unfortunat
ely, each had different ideas about how things should be run.
Like an old married couple, they put up with one another, but that was as much for the reason that they were stuck with each other and couldn’t change their situation as anything else.
Tensions had flared up most recently when Alma once again made the mistake of criticizing Habby’s fashion sense, noting the clothing he had outfitted their people in was not terribly efficient for manual labor.
Habby took it personally, throwing verbal barbs about her know-it-all behavior, though she really wasn’t behaving in any way of that sort. Alma took it in stride as best she could, but he was grating on her all the same.
“I suppose I could work on a way to sequester you two from one another,” Cal suggested when he checked in on them the following day. “But aside from your personal issues, the two of you are actually doing a wonderful job, at least so far as caring for your human dependents is concerned.
Alma had no lungs, but if she did, she’d have taken a deep breath.
“I suppose this is all part of my burden,” she said. “I have to be more accepting of his eccentric ways.”
“Ideally, yes. But if need be––”
“No. I will make it work,” she said, a determined edge to her gentle voice. “Besides, I suppose he is actually learning rather quickly, and I guess he’s also becoming somewhat less fixated on clothes.”
“On that, I cannot help you. It was the nature of his creation.”
“I realize that. It can just be…difficult, at times.”
“Now that, I fully understand,” Cal said with a chuckle. “Keep at it, Alma. I have confidence in you.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “But tell me, what of the other regions? Are the other AIs and humans integrating well?”
“There have been a few small incidents, but nothing of any consequence.”
“I am glad to hear that. I suppose that is about as well as one can expect of them, given the rapid changes in their world.”
“Indeed.”
“And the aliens? Are they settling in to the new society as well?”
“Far better than anticipated. And they are even partnering with humans and AIs to set up tribunals.”
“What sort of tribunal? I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with the process.”
“They are working together as a unified force, hunting down the remaining Ra’az, and ferreting out Chithiid loyalists.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It is, but it is also a closure I believe all those involved desperately need before they can move on from that chapter of their lives.”
“It makes sense, I suppose. There are many new things for those formerly under the yoke of the Ra’az to become accustomed to.”
Far above, in the cool, dry air of Dark Side Base, Arlo was showing a pair of Chithiid scientists around the base, Barry in tow as a cybernetic chaperone.
“And these are the quarters you will be staying in,” he said in excellent Chithiid. “There are shower facilities built into each unit, so you won’t have to go walking down the hallways wrapped in a towel to get a rinse.”
“What is a towel?” the younger of the two aliens asked.
“You serious? You’ve never seen a towel?”
“This is why I have asked,” he replied.
“Wow. Okay, a towel is a long piece of fluffy fabric that you use to dry yourself off.”
“Why not use the warmth of the sun and the wind blowing across the city?”
“Because we’re on the moon, for one. Plus, sometimes it’s just nice to feel a warm terrycloth on your skin, ya know?”
“No, I do not know.”
“Well, you will soon enough,” he said with an amused laugh. “Come on, I’m gonna show you where the mess hall is.”
“Why is this hall you speak of messy? From the appearance of this facility, I would think your people pride themselves on cleanliness.”
For the umpteenth time that day, Arlo found himself amused as he explained another foreign phrase or item to the fish-out-of-water aliens.
“It’s not messy. That’s just what they call the food preparation area.”
“Aaaah,” the Chithiid said. “Now I understand, though why your people choose such unusual names for things, I will never grasp.”
Daisy had rounded the corner and approached from behind a good minute earlier, lagging back for a bit to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Ahem,” she said.
Arlo jumped a little.
“Oh, Daisy. Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“You speak Chithiid,” she noted.
“As do you,” he replied, fluently.
“Arlo, how did you not mention this before now? It’s kind of a big deal.”
“What? I figured you guys all spoke it too.”
“Nope, just me.”
“Well, that’s weird. Why didn’t your AIs put it in everyone’s neuro-stims?”
“Is that what your people did?” she asked.
“Me? Nah. I learned it the old-fashioned way. My nanny taught me when I was a kid.”
“You had a Chithiid nanny?” Daisy said, incredulously.
“What? Are you kidding? No, of course not. But my nanny learned to speak it, and she then taught me. I thought it was a normal thing, but I guess not.”
Daisy turned to Barry,
“So you decided to let a teenager do your job for you, Barry?”
“Arlo was kind enough to offer his assistance in showing our guests the facility. I thought it would be beneficial for them to have an additional person to speak to, and one who is not cybernetic in origin. Additionally, his Chithiid is better than mine, I have learned.”
“You’ll get it, dude. It’s just a vocab thing. From what I gather, your guys are still compiling a bigger database for you.”
“Yes,” the sandy-haired cyborg replied. “And once that is integrated, all mechanicals will be fluent. I only hope the neuro-stim they are designing for mass human use is as effective.”
Daisy looked at the pair of them, the cyborg she had nearly killed all those months ago, and the strange kid who had dropped into their laps. And the pair of aliens standing in a decidedly human moon base, of course. Times, they were a-changing.
“Okay, Arlo, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” she said.
“Cool. I just wanted to help coordinate and stuff,” he replied. “Though what I was really hoping for was an opportunity to get into the real shit, you know? Take out a few Ra’az, given the chance. I know I should be glad it’s over and was a success, but I’m kinda bummed I missed out on the fight,” he said, then turned and continued his tour of the facility.
A curious look flashed across Daisy’s face.
What do you think, Sis?
“If he wants to, why not? And besides, apparently he already speaks Chithiid. Could be really helpful on the hunt.
I was thinking the same thing. But he is still only a kid.
“If by kid, you mean kid who flew solo a bazillion miles across space to track down alien invaders, then sure.”
Point taken, Daisy said with a silent chuckle.
“Hey, kid,” she called after him.
“Yeah?” he said, stopping in his tracks.
“Gather your hunting gear,” Daisy told him. “It looks like you just might get your wish.”
Chapter Thirty-One
It felt a bit strange, flying aboard someone else’s ship after spending so much time with Freya, but with Sarah training with Fatima, Daisy and Vince agreed to head down to Los Angeles with Arlo aboard Marty, while Freya stayed up on Dark Side and worked to help Mal and Chu tweak the new processors she had designed.
“Daisy, it’ll be fun. Marty’s a really cool guy. I like him!” Freya said.
“I know, kiddo, it’s just weird going without you, is all.”
“Jeez, relax. If you need me, just call. It’s not like I’ll be that far away.”
Says the ship who has no con
cept of how far two hundred forty thousand miles is for the rest of us.
“We’ll be fine, Freya. Daisy just worries about you,” Sarah interjected.
“I know,” the preoccupied AI replied.
“You know what? What were you saying, Freya?” Vince asked, shouldering his gear bag.
“Uh, nothing,” she covered. “Just thinking aloud.”
“Nice save, hon. There’s a conversation we’re saving for another day.”
“You guys go on,” she chirped. “Have fun. And tell Arlo I say hi!”
“Will do, kiddo. And you have fun helping Mal with, well, whatever this project du jour is.”
“It’s super cool, Daisy. But I promised I wouldn’t say anything till she knew if it would work or not.”
“Good for you. It’s important to be able to keep a secret when need be.”
“Oh, do you know about that.”
And how.
“You know, you’ll have to tell Vince eventually, right?”
Yeah, but for the time being, I’d rather not let that cat out of the bag.
“Where the hell did that saying come from, anyway? I mean, was it common practice to go around with cats in bags? I swear, Daze, sometimes I do not understand our ancestors.”
They’d likely say the same of us, but I catch your drift.
Vince walked close and wrapped her up in a quick embrace before kissing her cheek.
“You ready to roll, babe?” he asked.
She picked up her sword along with her pack, slinging both to her shoulder.
“I am now. Okay, see you later, Freya. Be good.”
“See ya, Daisy. Have fun!” the AI replied.
Daisy and Vince quickly walked to Hangar Two, where Arlo and his stealthy vessel awaited them.
Have fun, she says. If you consider hunting down alien war criminals fun, Daisy mused.
“Well, it might be.”
You’re just saying that because Other Sarah’s probably already bagged one without us down there.
