Grow Up

by Craig Anderson

  Josh processed this new information. After a moment to think he said, “What is the highest-level mech?”

  “Statistically speaking, most trials involve mechs of level 5 or lower. However, the scale goes up to Level 10 Behemoth. That chassis is almost never used in combat due to the astronomical Cost of Running Per Second, also known as CORPS. We know the Galactic Corp has one as they have used it in the past, but not in the last 10 years. They would only use it if they deemed a trial so important that it could not be lost.”

  “So why not just do that now? They could takeover Blurgon today.”

  “Pinning everything on a single trial is a high-risk strategy and would be extremely expensive, even if the fight was brief. It would be an inefficient use of capital. They are easily winning the war of attrition, and it is a considerably cheaper and safer option.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “You do not get to be the largest corporation in the universe without being extremely boring. Now we must prepare for our approach to Blurgon. Are you able to load the items back into the crate?”

  Josh looked at the huge Blaster and shook his head. “No way, that thing must weigh a tonne.”

  “Do you give me permission to utilize the cleaning robots to assist you?”

  “Sure, I guess so. Why do you have to ask?”

  “An A.I. may not take direct control of a robotic device without explicit permission and a justifiable reason. I believe I have met those criteria.”

  A small door opened and a tiny floating tray hovered out. It didn’t look particularly impressive. Josh was about to ask what good that was going to do when the tray plowed into the huge Blaster and effortlessly pushed it back into the overturned crate. It did the same with the hand and then did a final sweep of the smaller items, before tipping the crate back up the correct way. Then it disappeared back into the wall.

  “Wow! That was pretty cool,” said Josh.

  “I did not detect a noticeable change in temperature,” the Ship’s Computer said, confused.

  “I just meant it was great.”

  “Then why did you not say that?”

  “Humans don’t always say exactly what we mean.”

  “I see. That sounds highly confusing.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Josh admitted.

  “I shall endeavour to accommodate the nuances of your language as best as I can, to make you feel more comfortable. If that is cool with you?” The Ship’s Computer was clearly pleased with herself, but it sounded more like a grown-up doing their best to sound young again. Josh did his best not to groan. “Sounds great.”

  “Now I must ask you to return to your crate.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We are approaching Blurgon, and must pass through the G.C. checkpoint. They are unlikely to board us as we are a registered courier vessel, which offers limited protections.”

  “So why do I have to get in this crate then?” asked Josh, clambering back inside.

  “The crate will shield you from their scanners. When they do not detect anything unusual they will let us through.”

  “What if they detect me?”

  “Then they will board this vessel and you will likely be detained and incarcerated. Based on your expected lifespan, it would be better if you were not detained.”

  That was enough to convince Josh to get a wriggle on. As he awkwardly maneuvered the lid above him, the sound became muffled and his world was flooded with darkness. Once again the voice in his ear went silent. The only noise was his own breathing, which he suddenly became extremely aware of.

  It was hard to keep track of the time in the crate, but he dared not peek out. After what felt like a long time he realized that there was no-one outside to let him out, and no way for the Ship’s Computer to let him know it was safe. He started to feel trapped, like the walls were closing in. He was going to wake up drenched in sweat at any moment. At least he hoped it was only sweat. Now was the wrong time to realize he hadn’t been to the toilet in a while.

  He was about to burst out of the crate like a model out of a birthday cake when the crate rocked. The movement was completely unexpected, as if it had been nudged, but there was no-one else on board. That was not a promising sign…

  Josh risked a peek, lifting the lid up slightly. All he could see was a black circle, and then as his eyes adjusted to the light again he finally understood what he was seeing. He was staring down the barrel of a gun.

  Level 6: Into the Fire

  Josh slowly raised his hands above his head. There was an alien standing opposite him, blaster raised, ready to fire. He’d managed to go his whole life without meeting an alien, and yet somehow, today, the floodgates were open.

  He muttered, “What happened?” as his earpiece crackled to life.

  “You left your game controller out!” the Ship’s Computer hissed back at him. Josh risked a glance and saw his controller sitting next to the Mech Controller.

  “So what?”

  “They detected it in the scan, which gave them a plausible reason to board the ship. You can’t just fly around with unregistered alien tech, can you imagine the risk exposure? As soon as they came on board they were more interested in the large stack of smuggling crates, and that is how we got here.”

  Josh looked at the alien more closely, trying to determine if he could overpower it, or at least outrun it. The alien was humanoid in shape, although quite a bit taller than Josh. It had mandibles instead of a mouth, and more eyes than he could count. Its limbs twitched continually, as if it was ready to pounce at any second. It reminded him of an insect, if an insect was eight feet tall and could wield weaponry.

  He’d already given up on trying to fight back when the second alien appeared. It was quite the contrast to the first one. It was tiny, about half of Josh’s height and wearing some kind of armoured space suit. Its head was extremely large, at least twice as big as his own, and entirely covered in a jet-black helmet with no obvious visor. It had no discernible weapon. It looked like a child.

  Josh was surprised when the larger alien nodded at its partner before strolling away, leaving Josh to be guarded by the space dwarf. He felt his legs tense up, ready to attack. If he could incapacitate it then perhaps he could get the computer to fly him out of here.

  “I see your heart rate increasing. Do not consider physical violence,” the Ship’s Computer said in his ear. “That is a Brainling. They possess telekinetic capabilities and as a result are quite lethal.”

  “It can kill me with its brain?” Josh muttered.

  “Technically not its brain, but any sharp object in the vicinity.”

  “Can it read my mind?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Josh laughed until the Ship’s Computer added, “Your mind is far too primitive for it to properly interface with.”

  The Brainling stopped a few inches away and made a series of clicking sounds. The computer translated in his earpiece. “You are under arrest. Follow me.”

  Josh couldn’t help himself. Panic kicked in, and he ran. He managed three steps before his left leg stubbornly refused to touch the ground. It started to float up into the air, at first bent at the knee, and then slowly straight out. His right foot stayed firmly planted on the floor. As Josh reached the limits of his ability to do the splits he shouted, “Stop! I surrender!”

  His left foot was released and he collapsed. The large alien came back and said, “Everything ok in here?”

  “Yes. The creature tried to resist. Take it to the interrogation room while I search the rest of this vessel for contraband.” The Brainling made a motion and Josh’s game controller hovered up off the ground and floated straight into its outstretched hand.

  The insect creature scooped Josh up with one arm and tossed him over its shoulder before walking away, banging Josh’s head on the doorway in the process. Josh shouted, “Help!”

  The computer spoke in his ear. “I am sorry Josh, I have no authority with the Galactic Corp an
d will be unable to assist as soon as they impound this ship. Under no circumstances should you tell them you are from Earth, it will make your planet a target. Your earpiece will continue to translate, but that is the only help I can offer. You must solve this by yourself.”

  His wrist buzzed. As he bounced around he pulled up the screen, hoping for some brilliant escape plan.

  New Tasks available.

  - Prison Break: Escape from the clutches of the Galactic Corp. Penalty for failing to complete this quest: Lifetime imprisonment.

  - Loose lips: Do not reveal your planetary origin when being interrogated. Penalty for failing to complete this quest: Destruction/Enslavement of Earth.

  “That’s the best you can do? Tasks!” he whispered, but the only response he got from his earpiece was static. The Ship’s Computer was gone.

  ***

  Gargle emptied the last of the peas into his mouth. They had done nothing to heal his wound, but they had healed a slight ache in his middle. He was starting to doubt the competency of this school’s healer and made a mental note to raise this concern to her manager.

  He had been abandoned in the empty hallways. He peeked into several of the rooms to find them filled with students seated in orderly rows, facing a single tall person at the front of the room. Presumably those were the elders, those tasked with imparting knowledge to the younger generation. The challenge was, Gargle did not know what class of job Josh had been assigned, so he had no idea which knowledge session he was supposed to be attending. What he needed to do was find someone in charge.

  As he navigated down yet another hallway he found himself outside a large room full of shelves. There were no other students, but there was an elder sitting behind a desk. Perhaps she would know where he was supposed to be. He approached her slowly, trying to think of the correct words to say. He said, “Hello!” and the sound echoed around the large open space.

  The woman immediately held her finger up to her mouth and made a shhhhh sound. Gargle had no idea what it meant, but presumed it was a customary greeting. He returned the gesture and the woman’s expression changed. It did not look friendly, it looked almost hostile. He prepared himself for another fist fight.

  “Can I help you?” the old lady hissed in a barely audible tone.

  “Yes. I do not know what I am. Do you have a list of job assignments?” He tapered off at the end of his sentence as the lady’s expression soured.

  “Careers is section 331, third shelf on your left.” She went back to looking at something in her lap, suggesting that this verbal exchange had ended.

  Gargle followed her directions, but could not find a data terminal anywhere. Instead there were small rectangles stacked neatly in a line. Were these some form of data cube? He pulled one down at random and said, “Activate!” Nothing happened. Perhaps there was a specific word. He thought hard and tried a few more combinations. “On! Power on! Start! Initialize!”

  The scowly lady appeared at the end of the shelves, her expression somehow even more disapproving. Gargle didn’t know the word for it, but he knew how it made him feel. This was a new type of pain, a deep internal ache, but she had not struck him. Perhaps she was this planet’s equivalent of a Brainling? This would be a bad room for a Brainling fight; there were far too many potential projectiles. He held up the data cube, ready to shield his face from any more attacks.

  “You’re making a lot of noise. Is everything ok?”

  Gargle relaxed a little, convinced that the threat of violence had dissipated, for the time being at least. “Yes. Is this a data cube?”

  “A data cube? It’s a book, dear. There is a lot of knowledge in there, is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. How do I activate it?” He slowly moved over to her, still ready for a sneak attack.

  She took the book and flipped open the top of it, revealing a thin white material that was covered in scribbles. He squinted at it, trying to make sense of it. Slowly the scribbles started to make sense and he could hear the words in his head as if someone was talking to him. He found himself mumbling the words as he read them.

  The woman’s expression softened. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in the library before. Are you new to the country?”

  “Yes,” he replied, absentmindedly as he plowed through another sentence, slowly picking up speed.

  “Where are you from dear?” she said, smiling now.

  “Blurgon,” fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He panicked, but the damage had already been done. He’d blown his cover. What if the elder reported him to the authorities? His legs tensed up as he prepared to run, but she did not appear troubled by this revelation. Instead she said, “Blurgon? Never heard of it. Is it in Scandinavia?”

  His error had gone unnoticed. He made a note to make sure it wasn’t repeated. Just to be safe, he changed the topic. “What is your classification?”

  “We use the Dewey Decimal System here dear.”

  “No, I mean your role.”

  She stared at him, gestured to the books, and said, “I’m a librarian.”

  “You are the keeper of this vault of knowledge? That sounds like an important role.”

  “I like to think so.” She stood up a little straighter.

  “Then tell me vault keeper, how do I search these books for the information I need?”

  “You have to do it the old-fashioned way I’m afraid. If there is something specific you are looking for you will be better off using the internet.”

  “The internet? Is that similar to a data terminal?”

  “You don’t have the internet in Blurgon?”

  “No. Can you show me how to use it?”

  The librarian looked around at the otherwise empty library and rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can do that.” She led him over to a large beige slab, with a viewer that flickered and hummed. The device itself was making a terrible sound, strangely similar to the squeals of protests from the Father’s car. She gave it a whack and the noise stopped. She said, “What is it that you are looking for?”

  “I am trying to determine what I am. My job.”

  “Well that is a big decision, maybe one of the biggest. Do you have any ideas as to what you would like to be?”

  “What I would like to be? Why does that matter?”

  “Of course it matters. It’s important to enjoy what you do. Take me for example, I grew up loving books, I’d go through two or three most days. All I wanted to do was spend my days around books, and now that is exactly what I do.” She smiled as she admired the neatly stacked shelves.

  Gargle was not smiling. He was more confused than ever. He said, “Are you telling me I get a choice of jobs?”

  “Yes, dear, provided you get the right qualifications. You look like a year 11, do you have your exams coming up?”

  “Yes. In a couple of weeks,” he replied, recalling his earlier conversation with the Father.

  “Well then, just make sure you get the best marks you can, that way you will be able to do whatever you like.”

  Whatever he liked. There was no direct Blurgon translation, and it took a moment for this primitive neural processor to fully comprehend the ramifications of that simple sentence. On this planet jobs weren’t assigned—they were chosen by the individuals themselves.

  That couldn’t possibly be right.

  But what if it was?

  A new fear ran through him. What if he chose incorrectly? What if the real Josh wanted to choose something else, and Gargle doomed him to a life of doing a job he didn’t like. He wasn’t prepared for that level of responsibility. He was just trying to keep a low profile until the real Josh returned; no-one had told him he might have to make life-changing decisions on his behalf.

  “I can see you’re quite overwhelmed, and I understand, it is a big decision, but these days you don’t have to take it so seriously. You’ll probably do lots of jobs in your lifetime. I was a book editor for a while, a long time ago, but I didn’t like the hours or the never-e
nding pile of new submissions, so I quit and got a job as a librarian instead. It made me much happier.”

  “Quit? You mean, you didn’t like your job, so you just stopped doing it?”

  “Exactly. So find something you love right now, and do that for a while, and then when you’ve had enough, find something else you love. That way you’ll never stop learning.”

  Gargle wobbled on his feet. He needed to sit down. His entire world had just been flipped upside down. On this primitive backwater planet, they chose their own jobs and switched them when they felt like it. It sounded like complete and utter chaos, but even the thought of it made him want to stay here forever. He could be something other than a courier. He could be anything. All he needed to do was win his exams. This was it. He didn’t just have to assign himself mundane tasks, he might as well go for the big stuff too.

  He pulled his communicator out of his pocket and slowly tapped out:

  WIn sCHoOl.

  Now he just needed to figure out how to do that.

  He started with the obvious. “How do I do well in my exams?”

  “You’ll need to study. The internet is a good place to start. You can often find previous years’ exam questions, which will give you an idea of what to expect. Try to practice a few of those and see how well you do.” She tapped away at a large slab of buttons that looked a little like a Mech Controller. Gargle peered at the slab and saw that each button had a different letter on it. When she hit one it appeared on the viewer. The letters were in no apparent order, which was really going to slow him down.

  “Can I talk to it?” he asked, ever hopeful.

  “Probably with the newer models, but this old thing has been here almost as long as I have. You’re lucky the monitor is in colour.”

  A noise from over the other side of the library caught her attention. Her entire head swivelled like an owl, honing in on the sound. She stood up abruptly. “Excuse me for a second, I thought I heard something.” Then she set off with surprising speed.