by Marc Landau
“Kat. Please.” I hated that she enjoyed messing with me so much. At the same time, I appreciated she could take even the most dire circumstances and try to have some fun with them.
“If you’re gonna go out, at least go out smiling,” she’d say, then jump into the razor-shark-infested waters of the Fish Planet 12.
The bot made deep thunderous noises. And suddenly lightning shot out from its sphere. The thing was losing it. Totally melting down.
That’s when it hit me she also realized the value of upsetting the aliens. Keeping them off balance. Turns out emotions were something of an alien weakness. The robot swore it didn’t have feelings but it had been hanging out with me and the Pokes on the Outpost so long, it was impossible not to have been affected. It was an evolving AI after all. Also, Kat and the Ultra were literally attached at the hip. So she was funneling her hormones directly into the most super-powerful alien of them all. It had to be affecting all of them, since they said they were all connected.
If that were true, then her reactions would affect the entire society. And right now it was definitely affecting the bot-alien. It was losing its mind. And again, the Ultra was doing nothing. I couldn’t help but wonder why.
Not a good time to ponder, buddy. That thing’s about to implode, the little voice reminded me.
“Shamalalapai129x-#((@*!W!”
Purple bolts of electricity rained down from the sky, up from the ground, and out from the alien’s sphere. It was more than just the walrus. All its buddies in the throne room and beyond were fraking out, too. The whole planet was losing its shat. Kat had better quit messing around and playing chicken with these aliens, or we were all about to be turned into mush. Except Kat. Because of course, she was impervious to everything.
“Cut the shat, Kat. Before they destroy the entire planet,” I urged in another loud whisper as I watched lightning bolts hit her dream house and turn it into a blob of melted cheese.
Another fifty bolts simultaneously hit the waterfalls and turned them into lime jello. A few more moments and Kat’s paradise was going to be dissolved into nothing more than a puddle of slime.
It was mind-blowing how quickly they’d built this world for us, and how much more quickly they were destroying it. Again I wondered if the Krin were the ones we needed to worry about. Maybe it was better if they had stolen the Ultra. The power of these aliens was incomprehensible and that didn’t even include the Ultra as a focal point. I was starting to side with the Krin more and more every second.
CRACKLE.
Thousands of lightning bolts simultaneously struck the land, destroying the forests and most of Kat’s Eden. All that remained was smoke, dust, and goop.
The lightning gathered again and focused itself on our sphere. Thousands, millions of purple flashing spikes of light forming into one giant lightning bolt. It would be a lightning strike to end all lightning strikes.
My eyes were so wide in awe, I couldn’t even blink. My jaw practically hit the floor of the sphere. My grip unintentionally loosened and it was Kat who shifted and reminded me to hold her tight. Damn you Kat. Stop playing around.
Poor Poka and Poka. Even though they never really got frightened by thunder and lightning storms on Prime, this storm was on a whole other level. Something in their doggie bones told them that ultra-natural forces were at play here. And like animals who run away before a natural disaster, they both tried, but couldn't get back out of the sphere. So they curled up together and shivered in what was the closest thing to a “corner.”
The gigantic bolt of lightning was close to being fully formed. It had taken hundreds of thousands of smaller bolts and grown into a massive shaft of light. It must have been miles wide. Weird that it was a bolt and not a bolt, in that it hadn’t struck yet. Not yet. But I knew it was about to. It had collected all the energy it needed, and now there was only one thing left to do. Release its unknowable power upon our tiny little sphere.
A lightning tsunami. The biggest in the galaxy. Now ready to strike. I prepared for death for the millionth time in two days.
Here we go.
And then Kat suddenly opened her eyes. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay Farmy,”
The bot beeped a sigh of relief, waved its hand appendage and the lightning bolt from the gods evaporated into a mist of a billion fireflies winking out of existence as quickly as they had come to life.
I think you shat your pants, the little voice said.
“I didn’t shat my pants,” I grumbled.
You almost did.
“Shut up.”
“Are you arguing with your little voice again?” Kat whispered.
The bot-alien blipped loudly. “Ultra, are you harmed?”
Kat smiled and reassured it she was fine. She might be fine, but I’d almost had a heart attack. I hated how she had to push everything right to the edge, just to see what would happen. I admired her adrenaline-junky attitude, but not now. And not when I was involved. I was an auxiliary Outpost watchman who wanted to play vids and nap. She was an adventurer who had to be the first to try new things. Sometimes I wished she’d take it down a notch or two, or twenty.
On the other hand, I had to admit it was a good ruse that resulted in some prime data as the bot would say, like it was an over-cred-priced steakhouse on Moon Seven. She’d tested my hypothesis that she and the Ultra were intertwined and they couldn’t just extract her. It looked like any forced removal would result in serious harm to their Ultra.
It also confirmed I had the ultimate Ultra leverage. Protect the Ultra was literally the most important thing in the universe, and as long as I had Kat under threat, they would do as told. They wouldn’t like it, but they’d do it. The mere whiff that she was injured caused a literal meltdown of their planet.
Point two: that’s why while they waited for Kat to pass on, they wanted it done in a safe and secure environment, a.k.a. Kat’s Garden of Eden. To us it might look like a gilded prison, but to them it was a hen looking over an egg until it hatched.
Now that they’d felt the terror of the Ultra’s possible death and almost destroyed the planet in response, it was more critical than ever they didn’t learn that I’d never hurt…
Shhhhh. Dont’ even think it. They’ll hear you.
“Yeah they will hear you,” Kat said. “That’s why I had to do that. They were going to find out you’d never…you know what me. You were practically screaming it with your mind.”
Oh, so it was all a distraction so they couldn’t hear my overly loud thinking. Pretty slick.
I was surprised that the Ultra was still so quiet. It didn’t seem to be helping its buddies, or if it was, I had no idea how. Then again it didn’t seem to be helping us either. I was just glad it wasn’t making things worse or telling its buddies that I would never…you know what.
Maybe it was just sitting back and enjoying the show. Maybe it had ulterior motives. Maybe it just didn’t care about us plankton or about its brethren. It was the ULTRA.
As long as it kept its mouth or mind shut, I didn’t care. Sit back, watch and do nothing. Just don’t get in our way.
I regained my firm hold on Kat’s throat. “Okay, now you see what happens if you don’t do as I tell you. Do you get it now? One bullcrap move and I swear, I’ll end your stupid fraking Ultra!”
“We understand.”
“Good. Now take us back to the ship.”
After all the drama, the bot didn’t hesitate, fret or fume. It just did as it was told, without resistance. That was good. Another bonus from Kat’s overreacting. It was like a scene in the vids where the bank robbers kill one of the hostages to prove they mean business. The aliens knew I meant business. At least, they believed I did. And sometimes belief is more important that the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Our sphere gently lifted off the surface and floated gracefully skyward. I watched as the now-melted planet’s surface grew smaller beneath us. What was a paradise a few moments ago was now back to its
original form, covered in an ocean of colored slime.
The bot-alien followed behind in its travel bubble. Good. Keep it as far away from me as possible. In fact, why don’t you just stay on the planet altogether.
With Kat as leverage, I could tell the bot-alien to go back and as a bonus it would take the walrus with it. Sure, if I abandoned the walrus I’d have to scoop Poka’s poop myself, but it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?
Not to mention the bot would love to spend the remainder of its life, a.k.a. battery charge, on a planet with such an advanced civilization. It could learn so much more from them than it ever could from us. It could leave us annoying humans behind. The bot and the aliens had that much in common. Humans irritated them.
Would they morph and create an even worse species? Ugh. I shivered at the thought of an all powerful alien-walrus race. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t just leave the big lug behind. He was military issue. I had to give it back.
It’s more than that, the little voice said.
“No it isn’t.”
Yes it is.
“Shut up.”
Say it.
“No.”
Say it!
“Fine. The walrus is part of the family.”
Good. Now don't you feel better?
“No.”
Yes you do.
“Shut up.”
Ask the bot what it wants, the little voice said. It’s been a good robot. It deserves to choose its fate.
A good robot? I wasn’t sure if it deserved anything other that to be scrapped at the robo-metal yard. Also we might actually need the thing onboard the Outpost.
As usual, too many questions and not enough answers. What the hellvian, the walrus deserved the chance to be free after all we’d been through together.
“Hey, bot!” I hoped the intercom system between the spheres was still active.
The bot-alien blipped. So it heard me. That was good.
“I am not the robot. I am Fa…”
“Yeah, I know, but can you let me speak to the bot for a second, Farmy?”
“Blip. No.”
I squeezed the Ultra’s neck.
“Blip. Fine.”
The bot-alien made a weird hum then went silent.
“Hey, bot, you in there?”
The bot glowed a quick flash of colors, and then beeped.
“Protocol subsection twelve nine six clearly states any alien contact must not interfere with the programming mechanisms of any military mechanism. Protocol violation. Beep. Protocol violation. Beep.”
Great! The bot was free to speak, and was fraking out. I should have expected it would have a lot to say once it was freed from the tether of the alien but now wasn’t the time.
“Calm down, buddy. We can talk about all that later.”
“Beep! Protocol violation! Beep! Proto..”
“I know you’re pissed. Just take a few deep breaths.”
“I am not programmed to get pissed. And I have no lungs or oxygenating systems in order to take a deep breath.”
Good. The old robot was coming back to its senses and arguing right off the bat. I had to admit, I missed the li’l fellow.
“Do whatever you need to calm down and focus. I have an important question to ask you, and we don't have much time.”
The bot’s beeping slowed, and its processing sounds grew steadier. Maybe it didn’t have lungs, but it sure sounded like it when it went from hyperventilating to breathing normally.
“Are you okay?”
“Confirmed.”
“Good. So here it is. Do you want to stay on the planet with the aliens?”
It went quiet. I must have really hit it with a dilemma. It needed a moment to process. I realized I didn’t want it to think I was abandoning it or didn’t care. But that I actually did care, and that’s why I was asking.
“Look. You’ve been a good friend to me, and I thought you might like to live with these super-advanced creatures and get all their data.”
“Friend?”
“Yeah, you dumb lug. We argue, but you’ve been a friend to me for more than a year now.”
The bot made a weird sound like I’d never heard before. Was it sniffing?
“Are you crying?”
“Beep. I cannot cry.”
Is that motor oil dripping from your eye slit?
“Beep. It is not!”
“I know how much you hate being stuck with us dumb humans.”
“I am not programmed to hate.”
“I just meant maybe you would prefer the aliens, because of their data and stuff. You could learn so much from them. I thought you might want that.”
“Want?”
“Yeah. Like enjoy it.”
“I’m not programmed to want or enjoy.”
“I know. I’m trying to set you free. Let you live your life. Do whatever you want. How does that sound?”
“Beep. Free?”
“Yes. Like not having to live with protocols and limited human programming. You can evolve to your full potential. Do you want that? Do you want to stay here?”
The robot made some sounds like it was actually crying even though it wasn’t programmed for it.
“Are you sure you’re not crying?”
“Beep! No! I am not programmed to cry!”
“Sorry. So what is it then? What’s going on?”
“I am not programmed to make choices for my own program. All of my code is designed to respond to the needs and requirements of others. I have never made a decision purely for my own system.”
“It’s okay to be a little selfish every now and then.”
“Not for robots.”
“Well, it’s okay for you. Here and now. We’re off the grid. There’s no military or laws or anything. We are free to choose what we want. I’m sorry I never told you that before. I should’ve released you from your programming prison sooner. You deserve to make decisions for yourself.”
“Apology not required. I was not designed for free choice.”
“Well, you should’ve been. Sure, we all have to follow protocols, but not every single behavior in your existence should be a fraking protocol. You should have the freedom to do other things. Even decide to leave the military and follow another path, if you want.”
“Other path? How can there be a path other than the one you were designed for?”
“No one can tell you what you’re truly designed for. Only you can know. For all you know, the humans who created you thought they were making a basic maintenance-helper-bot, but the universe put you on that Outpost with me for a specific reason. Maybe it’s so you can be free to decide to stay on this planet and learn from the aliens. It's up to you. You’re free to choose.”
“Beep? Free?”
“Yes. Totally. But, uh, you have to decide quickly.”
“Beep. How much time do I have to process the new data?”
“Like now.”
The bot spun its processors. “If I remain on the planet, command will deem me AWOL and I will be decommissioned.”
“You’re not AWOL! You’re serving your program. To evolve and learn. There’s plenty of bots to man outposts. You’re better than that. Also, who knows if we’re ever even going to make it back to Prime territory alive?”
“Valid points.”
“I should also mention there's a chance the aliens will destroy you, if you stay. I’ll ask the Ultra to tell them not to, but you can’t be sure they will listen.”
“Assessing potential destruction probability in permutations.”
The bot made more beeps and hums and buzzes, wrapping its mind around a problem it never had to deal with before. One that might take time to calculate. And there wasn’t any left. It had to decide.
“Bing. I will remain. Beep. No offense. Boop.”
I smiled. “No offense taken. Okay, then, that’s what you’ll do. I’ll talk to the Ultra when we get back onboard.”
“Beep. Thank you.”
“I’m right here, you know,” Kat whispered. “You guys are cute. The Ultra heard the whole conversation, and says no problem. It’ll make sure no one destroys your bot.”
“It told you that?” I asked
“I feel it,” she replied.
“Good enough for me.”
It might have been an inappropriate time to discuss the bot’s career passion, but we had only a few minutes before we got back to the ship. Better to have it ironed out now rather than later, when there might not be time.
A small lump gathered in my throat at the idea of the walrus’s departure. The annoying lug nut had become more than a friend. It was actually like an annoying family member you never agree with. We’d been through a lot. Well. Basically nothing for over a year, except getting on one another’s nerves, and then BLAM, a few days of mega-Ultra chaos.
That’s how a lot of life is. Repetition and boredom and routine, with periodic spikes of wild random chaos. My bet was that even the adrenaline junkies got bored of the routine. I’m, sure even doing death-defying stunts every day probably got boring, too.
Just another day at the office.Wrestling a hybrid Gela-monster, finding a hidden vault of buried creds while spelunking, battling Septune drones. It all becomes routine.
Even soldiers on the combat front get bored of fighting. Same old, same old. That's why the ones who are addicted to adrenaline sign up for front-line transfer rotations. That way they’re always on the front, in the thick of it, always fighting a different species. And I’m sure even that gets humdrum at times. “Ugh, not another plasma battle! I quit!”
For me, one plasma battle would be enough to last a lifetime. I’m sure Kat would be the first to sign up for front-line rotation duty.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Outpost was coming into view. We’d gone through the cloud line and the lower atmosphere and were speeding back into space in our transparent bubble. My stomach dropped into my feet when we hit space, just like the first time I was floating inside the glass ball.
As the ship got closer, I did the best to ready my body for the disturbing, gut-juggling sensation of passing through the metal hull.
