Unstable Prototypes (7 page)

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Lex had learned a number of things in the
last few hours. First and foremost, he had learned that it seemed
to be physically impossible for a human being to be within arm's
length of a cute fuzzy animal and not pet it. Virtually any time he
let his mind wander, he realized that he was scratching the head or
stroking the back of Ma, who had remained on his lap. She
eventually encouraged him to continue, reasoning after a brief
consultation with a health site that interaction with an animal led
to a lower heart rate, decreased blood pressure, and a general
sense of well being. He had suggested that said health benefits
might not have taken into account the possibility of the animal in
question being an artificial intelligence that he respected as an
equal, but she remained unswayed.

The ship flipped and decelerated, made a stop
to pick up and drop off passengers, then accelerated onto the next
leg of its trip. In the hours that passed, he tried to get some
sleep, and learned that computers, it would seem, talk in their
sleep. At first he thought he was imagining it, but as her little
body twitched a leg or flicked an ear periodically, he heard a low
level hiss of static on his earpiece, accompanied by quiet snips of
voice. It sounded a bit like the sort of audio one gets when
skipping through a digital recording; little more than a word or so
at a time.

"I … we … straightforward … trust … deserve …
confident … lives … thank," she whispered amid the static.

When each had slipped into and out of the
amount of sleep their bodies were willing to provide, he learned
yet another thing. Ma was rather fond of games, but seldom had
occasion to play them. This was because, with her typical level of
processing power, it was difficult to find an opponent who was a
match for her. In her current state, she found games of chess
against Lex genuinely challenging. They played by hooking their
slidepads up to the flatscreen in 3D mode, which rendered a digital
table near the center of the room. It was worth pointing out that,
challenged though she might be, she didn't do an awful lot of
losing.

"I believe that is checkmate," she
remarked.

"... Yeah," said Lex, tipping over his
virtual king.

"Another game?"

"No, I think I'm done with chess for a while.
I'm gonna stretch my legs and get some food. I've never been to a
first class dining area before."

"I will join you," she replied, hopping down
to have her leash clicked on.

The pair left their cabin and headed for the
dining area. When they had boarded, they had been the only people
in first class, but that was hardly unusual. VectorCorp was still
under investigation for nearly causing pan-global destruction in
the Bypass Gemini Incident. This had led to mandatory increased
oversight and transparency, which had cost the company a tremendous
amount of money, even by their standards. They had thus used this
as an excuse to increase prices to offset the cost of the security
measures. People couldn't exactly stop using their service
altogether, since in most places they were the way to get from one
star system to another, but they could certainly drop down to a
cheaper ticket. This had the dual consequence of first class being
a ghost town and Lex modifying the SOB to have a second seat, for
increasingly popular chartered single passenger flights.

Evidently the previous stop had added three
more people to first class. The dining area was a narrow room
featuring three diner-style booths on one side of the aisle and a
small counter with a flesh and blood waiter sitting on a stool,
waiting to take orders. One of the booths was occupied by a man in
a highly visible orange jumpsuit with stenciled lettering. He was
older than Lex, but still a few years away from earning the
unenviable descriptor of "older gentleman." One hand was cuffed to
a hand grip on the wall by a daunting set of restraints. He was
trying, with great difficulty, to eat a plate of fried fish with
his single free hand and a plastic spork. Despite the frustrating
activity, he didn't seem particularly upset. Indeed, he had the
sort of face and overall attitude that suggested that he had never,
at any point in his life, been anything less than perfectly
content. His hair was a blonde crew cut. He had a mustache and
beard, each cropped and shaped fastidiously into something that
would have looked appropriate on one of the musketeers. His
physique suggested he devoted a similar amount of care to his
workout regimen. The two men sharing the booth with him were armed,
uniformed guards. Unlike their prisoner, they both looked as though
the concept of contentment or joy was entirely alien. They sat
silently, eyes carefully locked on the blond man as he thoroughly
enjoyed his meal in a highly animated fashion. When he noticed Lex,
his face lit up.

"Well! It seems that the recent fiscal
instabilities have not entirely frightened away the proud and noble
members of the aristocracy!" he proclaimed in an impeccable British
accent.

"Do not address the general public," warned
one of the guards.

"My dear man there is nothing general about
him. The very fact this man has seen fit to expend a not
insubstantial portion of his precious wealth to afford himself
comfortable lodging during this journey clearly proclaims him to be
part of the gentry. After all, not everyone can rely upon state
sponsored travel arrangements the likes of which I so regularly
enjoy."

"Either you behave yourself or this meal is
over," growled the second guard, slipping a "stun rod" a few inches
from its holster.

"Given such an ultimatum, I must regrettably
acquiesce, as it would be a shame to cut short so sumptuous a
feast," he remarked, enthusiastically digging into a pile of
unidentifiable greenery.

Lex made his way to the waiter, passing the
table along the way. As he walked by, Ma tapping along with him,
the charismatic prisoner glanced first to the furry little
creature, then to Lex, and back again. It was subtle enough that
the guards didn't seem to notice, and even Lex wasn't sure it had
happened. A limited menu was produced for him, depicting the
typical "meat/fish/veggie" trifecta that at some point in history
had been determined to be suitable dietary variety for long
distance travelers. On the plus side, this being first class, the
food was included in the price of the ticket, and today the role of
"meat" was being played by filet mignon.

"You want anything?" Lex whispered under his
breath.

"No. The food in your bag will be sufficient.
I'm sorry, but I must excuse myself. I will be in the cabin, if you
would kindly remove the leash."

"Uh... okay?" he said, unfastening it and
watching her pace back to the room.

Once she had reached their cabin down the
hall, where she was hidden from view for all but Lex, a few blinks
of the light on her neck prompted the automatic door to open, and
she slipped inside. He looked up to find that everyone in the room
was staring at him curiously.

"Very well trained. Cost a bundle," he
explained.

This seemed to be a sufficient explanation.
Lex sat at a booth to await his meal while the prisoner finished
his. When the last of his meal had been cleaned from the plate, and
the unreasonably cheerful man had made a few suitably satisfied
smacks of his lips, he decided that it was time to antagonize his
escorts once more as they removed the restraint from the hand grip
and affixed it properly to his other hand behind his back.

"You know something, Gents, despite our close
quarters during this sojourn I haven't learned a single thing about
you. For instance, what sort of music do you like?"

"Mouth shut," replied a guard, standing him
up and leading him back toward the cabins.

"Classical suits my tastes, personally,
although I am recently reminded of my former fondness for funk," he
remarked. His final word was delivered as he briefly made eye
contact with Lex.

Lex tried to keep his expression neutral.
Shortly afterward, his steak was delivered, along with a draft
beer. He asked if he could eat it in his room, was assured that he
could, and made his way to the door, nudging the door's open button
with his elbow. Once inside, he discovered that Ma was nowhere to
be seen.

"Ma?" he called, flipping a collapsible table
out from beside the couch and setting his food down.

There was a flush, and a moment later Ma
nosed open the door to the bathroom and jumped onto the couch.

"Yes, Lex?" she asked.

He palmed his face. "I used to have a normal
life. I swear I did. I miss those days."

"Is there something wrong?"

"There are several things wrong, Ma. The list
is getting pretty long at this point, but currently one thing is
way on top," he replied, lowering his voice. "That fellow with the
fancy orange suit out there. Is he the one that we're meeting
with?"

"That is correct. Through what means did you
deduce this?"

"I think he recognized you. He used the word
funk in a very pointed way."

"Astutely observed, Mr. Alexander."

"Why didn't you tell me that we would be
meeting with a convict?"

"For the purposes of stress-reduction, that
information was withheld."

"So when were you going to tell me?"

"When it became necessary for you to take
action."

Lex didn't say anything. It wasn't that he
didn't want to say anything. He had quite a few choice words lined
up, in fact. Unfortunately, this was one of those rare situations
where screaming profanity wouldn't solve anything. For one,
regardless of whether he was fond of the idea or not, chances were
very good that if Ma had come up with it, it was necessary. For
another, Ma did not respond well to hostility, and the last thing
he needed was the one person who knew what the hell was going on to
become bitter and resentful. Thus, rather than stringing together
as many four letter words as he could, he slowly attempted to
regain his composure. Sensing his dismay, Ma spoke.

"I apologize if I have mishandled this. You
have been extremely helpful thus far, coming to our aid when we
needed you, despite no obligation to do so. I was not entirely
straightforward, and for that I am sorry. Your trust was implicit
from the beginning, and I may not have done all that I should have
to deserve it, but I am confident that you will see your way clear
to continue to lend your aid, on behalf of the lives that are at
stake, and if not, I thank you for what you have done, and
following the completion of this next stage, will gladly send you
on your way with whatever reward you desire."

Lex squinted. There was something peculiar
about the wording.

"Did... did you rehearse that little speech
while you were sleeping?"

Ma's eyes opened wide, and her ears sagged
slightly.

"How did you know that?" she asked, genuine
surprise showing in a voice that, by rights, shouldn't have been
capable of it.

"I heard bits and pieces of it in the
earpiece."

"That... Was not intentional. Or
anticipated," she said, looking vaguely downward, her eyes darting
slightly. "I have no record of activating the broadcast
routine."

"Why were you practicing to begin with?"

"Because you are not a fool, Lex," she said,
her eyes turning back to him and her steadiness appearing to
return. "It was a relative likelihood that you would discover that
I had withheld this information, and suspicion of manipulation is a
reasonable interpretation of facts. I cannot afford to lose your
aid at this point in time, so I assembled my prior speech and
simulated it a number of times in order to ensure a proper
execution. Was it successful? Have my feelings on the matter been
adequately explained, and your concerns placated?"

Lex sighed. "Here is what I want to happen,
Ma. You tell me, in detail, exactly what is going to go down. While
you're doing that, I'm going to eat this steak and drink this beer.
Don't worry about stressing me out, because that ship has
sailed."

"I'm afraid that is not possible at this
time."

"Why not?"

"Because one of the more difficult aspects of
the plan needs to be implemented within a fifteen minute window
which began eleven seconds ago. Due to the nature of the task, I
will need to begin as soon as possible, which leaves me with
insufficient time to adequately describe the plan."

"Well at least tell me what you are planning
to do."

"I am going to cause an equipment failure
that will force this ship to make an unscheduled stop on a transfer
and maintenance station. Please finish your beer, and be careful
with the steak knife. Things are going to get bumpy."

"Isn't that danger-"

"I'm afraid I need to concentrate at this
time. Please fasten your restraints and, if you are willing,
restrain me as well."

"Hold on just one minute!"

It was too late, though. She had settled
down, shut her eyes, and begun whatever it was she was going to do.
The red light began to flicker aggressively, and the screen of her
slidepad scrolled schematics, commands, and warnings.

"Damn it!" he cursed, downing his beer,
buckling his belt, and pulling the scheming AI onto his lap.

At first, nothing happened. Then came the
canary in the coal mine of electrical problems, dimming lights.
Almost instantly there was a sudden, sharp acceleration, something
that they absolutely should not have felt with the inertial
inhibitor on. The sound of the engines, until now little more than
a distant hum that was quickly ignored to the point of becoming the
new silence, asserted itself. It was a sickly wail. To a layman it
would have been clear that something wasn't right. To Lex, who had
dealt with his share of failing engines, it was a little more
unnerving.