by Rexx Deane
The ascent was slow, and the Folian ship cautious in the strong winds of the upper atmosphere. Over the minutes, the linear horizon bent into a curve below them, and the emerald forests and golden plains of Achene slowly faded to a roiling orange mist as the illusory gas giant took its place.
‘So, what’s the plan for getting free of this?’ Sebastian asked.
Aryx scratched his head. There hadn’t exactly been any discussion of the towing operation. ‘I don’t know. I assumed they’d lift us out of the atmosphere and release the vines. I hope it doesn’t ruin the paintwork.’
‘It’s already ruined. I don’t know if you noticed the big hole underneath.’ Sebastian laughed but stopped when the hull creaked from the strain of the vines pulling at it.
Something like an itch tickled deep inside Aryx’s brain. The vines will release now. You are free. Farewell, friends, and good journeys to you. He shook his head. Was that telepathy? Yet another first for the galaxy. ‘Did you hear that, too?’
Sebastian nodded. ‘I think it’s magic.’
A faint popping reverberated throughout the cockpit as the vines pulled away from windows and the Folian ship moved off, heading back towards the planet. At least something was going right. Sebastian punched in the coordinates for the nearest acceleration node and fired up the engines.
Aryx yawned. ‘I need some sleep – it’s gone midnight station-time.’
‘You go on, get some rest,’ Sebastian said. ‘I’ll make sure I don’t fall asleep. Leave your new friend up here and we’ll talk.’
Aryx put the cube on the console and patted it. ‘Good night, Jim-Bob,’ he said and headed for the lift, leaving Sebastian with a puzzled expression on his face.
***
Sebastian crossed his legs and put his feet up on the console next to the cube. ‘So, what’s your story?’
The cube had been silent after its introduction, allowing Aryx to fill him in on what he’d learned about it, and now Sebastian was keen to interact with it himself.
‘Aryx has told you most of what he felt was important. I am unaware of the events that led to my presence on Tenebrae station, and I apologise for not revealing my nature much sooner. Evidently, it would have saved you much frustration.’
‘You understand frustration?’ Could the thing actually be capable of emotion?
‘In a way, yes. It is caused by repeated attempts at an action with no resolution, even after multiple behaviour changes. It is, in effect, wasted time – and I dislike inefficiency.’
‘Dislike? Do you have emotions?’
‘Dislike may be an inaccurate term. I would not know how to identify emotions if I had them. I have certain behavioural traits imparted by my teachers, but I lack the “primitive brain” functions that cause the hormonal triggers that facilitate emotion in organic beings. I suppose my core programming directives act in a similar fashion to the primal brain and, just as Humans can sometimes override their emotional drives, I can circumvent my core programming behaviours, but it takes effort, in the form of complex computations, to work around the directive. However, none of these processes could remotely constitute emotion.’
Sebastian put his feet back on the floor, leaned forwards, and folded his arms on the console. He stared intently at the rising and falling bar of LEDs as the SI spoke. ‘What was the Jim-Bob thing about?’
‘Aryx said “good night Jim-Bob” when he was about to go to sleep on Achene. I had asked him to give me a name, and when I asked if that was my new name, he told me to shut up and let him go to sleep. I think he was being humorous.’
‘Do you understand humour?’
‘I understand the double meanings of the words used and can appreciate their value. Aryx believes that I am sarcastic. That is a form of humour, is it not?’
‘It’s said that it’s the lowest form of wit, but I guess that’s better than nothing, especially for a computer.’
‘I have no sensibilities to offend, so I take that as a compliment.’
‘And did he give you a name? He didn’t mention it.’
‘He did not seem too concerned with my request. I am still waiting for something appropriate. Do you have any suggestions?’
Sebastian scratched his head. ‘How about Wolfram?’
The cube paused briefly while its lights flashed. ‘I am aware of several associations. Stephen Wolfram was a scientist in the late twentieth century that researched cellular automata, simple algorithms that exhibit complex behaviour similar to patterns that appear in nature.’
‘Yes. His work inspired my research into simulation. I tried to discuss it with Tolinar, but he didn’t seem interested.’
‘Understandable … Wolfram is also one of the names for tungsten. Given that my casing is tungsten carbide, the name seems ironically appropriate.’
‘So, you understand irony too.’
‘It would appear I do. It also seems that there is a third layer of irony involved. In the early twenty-first century, Stephen Wolfram developed an internet search engine designed to solve problems. It was called Wolfram Alpha. Considering I am the first of two prototype models, I am effectively Wolfram Alpha.’
Sebastian laughed until tears ran down his face. It might have been niche humour, but it was wonderful to hear such creative insights from a machine. ‘I love it! I hereby name you Wolfram Alpha. But I’m just going to call you Wolfram, for convenience, if you don’t mind.’
‘As you wish. Thank you. Wolfram Alpha is pleased to meet Agent Sebastian Thorsson.’
‘Pleased to meet you, too, Wolfram. Just call me Sebastian.’ He gazed absent-mindedly at the stars and something forgotten surfaced. ‘Aryx said you mentioned the second prototype before. What would it look like with the casing off?’
‘I will show you my internals – that may give you an idea.’ The upper rear section of the cube slid back, creating a gap where Sebastian initially suspected a seam. It continued past the main body and finally hinged downwards to reveal the interior. He turned the cube around for a better view. It contained a densely packed arrangement of components, mounted in a block of organoplastic. The upper face was smooth and studded with an array of tiny, circular gold-plated indents like a golf ball, not dissimilar to twenty-first century computer processor contacts.
‘Could these internals melt in an intense fire?’ The cube snapped shut and he jerked his fingers back.
The cube’s LEDs strobed menacingly. ‘Why would you even propose such a thing?’
He put his hands up. ‘I wasn’t suggesting setting you on fire! It just reminded me of a lump we’ve been investigating.’
‘The item next to the escape pod entrance?’
Sebastian turned in his seat. The chunk of plastic sat in the corner of the bulkhead and still had the lead wires trailing from it. He retrieved it and placed it on the piloting console by the cube.
‘That is the beta model,’ Wolfram said.
Sebastian’s mouth dropped open. ‘Does this mean it could have a recording of what went on during the explosion? We tried to access the data on it, but it was gibberish.’
‘Of course, it would be unintelligible to you. The data is self-organised.’
‘Can you access it?’
‘In theory, yes. The base data should be identical to mine as it was duplicated and flashed onto the beta model before its assembly was complete. Although I will require an appropriate interface. I will not allow Aryx to solder wires on to me like that.’
‘So, if its data was the same, you can run a differencing algorithm on it to determine what it learned after the copying process!’
‘Precisely.’
Sebastian let out a sigh of relief and slumped back into his seat. ‘Thank the Gods!’ Finally, it looked like the investigation was going to go somewhere. The fact the second cube had even turned up on the station was a revelation in itself.
If the cube’s counterpart had been in the possession of the terrorists, that would likely make Kerl an accomplice. But
why would the terrorists have blown up their own lab, if not to hide evidence of their activities there? All the evidence so far pointed to a magic user. Was it even possible that they used such a thing? What other reason could there be for blowing up the lab? Kerl could have been working for them, but developed his own agenda – one that didn’t align with their plans, and that might give them motive to blow the lab up. Was it sheer coincidence that SpecOps had given him the cube shortly before the explosion, or did they want him to find out what the cube was, suspecting something might be afoot? Nothing added up.
He didn’t like it, but with the lack of substantial evidence and nothing to implicate the ITF directly, The Paper Man, Duggan, with his own admission to using magic, was moving back to the top of a very short list of suspects.
***
The trip back to the station was much quicker than Sebastian had anticipated and the Ultima Thule arrived at Tenebrae in good time after a series of fortuitously short node hops.
The ship drifted through the transport rings and came to rest in the familiar repair hangar. He shut down the ship’s systems and made his way to the cargo bay. Aryx was still asleep on the hammock, snoring loudly. It would be good to get some proper rest himself, providing he didn’t have one of the dreaded nightmares again.
‘When he wakes, can you get him to wire you up to the beta cube?’ Sebastian whispered, placing Wolfram on the stack of storage containers by the bed. ‘Let him have some breakfast first, of course.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I need a few hours’ sleep in my quarters. I’ll be back in the morning.’
‘Very well, I will inform him of your whereabouts when he wakes.’
‘See you tomorrow.’ He picked up the dirty N-suit sleeves on the way out and secured the door behind him. Despite being tired, he felt the need to stretch his legs before going to bed. The station would be in night-mode, the ideal time for a quiet walk, so he took a lift to the atrium.
He had never been in any of the busy areas of the station after midnight, and it was strange to see the walkways devoid of activity. The air was cool and the solar filters off, filling the atrium with a dusky blue light. Glowing insects drifted in the trees on either side of the river and on the plants along the bank, pollinating the night-blooms. If only he could go home … There had been far too many reminders of Earth lately.
When he got back to his apartment, he tore off his clothes and crashed on the bed. He was too tired to even register the message flashing on his terminal.
***
He tossed and turned in his sleep as a jumble of religious and mythological imagery filled his dreams; strange symbols he didn’t understand, memories from the visions imparted by Shiliri and the Hesperidium … None of it made sense.
He crawled on his hands and knees through the dark tunnels on Achene, surrounded by glowing mists. Voices beckoned him onward, others taunted him from behind, and scratching to either side terrified him. The mists parted to reveal a mutilated, bloody corpse lying on the floor. As he drew closer to it, the mists drifted away from the legs. Short legs, torn off at the knees.
Dark liquid pooled around the body and he looked down at his wet hands. Hands stained red with Aryx’s blood.
He screamed.
***
Sebastian woke to his alarm at 08.00 – the nightmare woke him at 03.10 and he’d managed to fall back to sleep, but he still felt as though he’d not slept for a week. The new message icon flashed on the terminal when he got up. Two messages. He opened the first: blank and anonymous, again. He skipped to the second.
The timestamp was two days ago; it must have arrived while the wristcoms were damaged. He’d have to pick up replacements for those from the office.
The message read, Video enhancement of security video #8275 completed.
‘Excellent!’ He grabbed the N-suit and pulled it on as he made his way to the security department.
When he arrived, the place was calm, and people sat quietly tapping away at glass consoles.
He logged on to the terminal in his private office. ‘Computer, transfer processed security video, number eight-two-seven-five, to the Ultima Thule.’
‘Acknowledged. Did you sleep well?’
‘I’d like you to also start running full traceroutes on the messages received by my terminal and the one in Aryx Trevarian’s quarters. Trace all messages from the last ten days.’ That should keep it busy for a while. It might even help identify the cause of their sleepless nights. He grabbed a couple of wristcoms from his drawer and left.
As he turned the corner, he collided with a short woman with long brown hair, tied back in a ponytail. The large glasses she wore gave the impression of intelligence, in contrast to her dimpled cheeks and deep brown eyes – which gave her a child-like appearance Sebastian found strangely disarming.
‘Oh! I’m sorry!’ she said, bending to pick up the infoslate she had dropped. Her well-educated and eloquent voice instantly shattered his assumption of her age and maturity.
He threw his hands up. ‘My fault, I’m in a rush this morning.’ He looked down at her outfit; an N-suit. ‘Are you SpecOps, too?’
‘Yes. I’m here to check in with security – I’m heading back out on assignment in a few days but have to make a stopover.’ She stood hugging the infoslate, twisting back and forth.
‘You haven’t seen Agent Gladrin, have you?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve only been here a few hours, but I think he’s quite busy.’
‘Oh. I found another bug on my ship that he must have forgotten to mention. I don’t know if it’s one of the usual ones, or if it’s one planted by terrorists. I thought he should take a look.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Usual ones?’
‘The bugs SpecOps put on board new ships in case they get stolen before issue.’
‘I’ve never heard that before.’ She pushed her glasses further up her nose. Odd that someone would be wearing them these days – Sollers Hope being the obvious exception. She held out her hand. ‘I can give it to him if I see him, if you like.’
‘That might be best. I’ve been out of touch for a few days and might not catch him myself. I’ve been meaning to discuss my initiation project with him.’
She tilted her head to one side, almost imperceptibly, and he dropped the damaged bug Aryx had found into her hand. ‘I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you—’
‘Ms Stephens,’ she said, finishing his sentence. ‘And nice to meet you, Agent …’
‘Thorsson.’
‘Ahh, the programmer guy. You’re heading up the investigation on the explosion, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ He folded his arms. ‘But I’d prefer if you didn’t ask about it.’
She smiled. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Her gaze held his eyes for several moments.
He rubbed his neck slowly, uncomfortable, and nodded. Skirting around her, he made his way down the corridor.
She called after him. ‘If you ever fancy a drink—’
‘—there’s a drinks fountain in the changing room,’ he mumbled.
***
When Sebastian arrived at the Ultima Thule, Aryx lay underneath it, presumably working on the damaged panel. The dent in the thruster manifold had already been pulled out.
‘You don’t waste your time,’ Sebastian said.
Aryx slid out on a workshop trolley, the cube resting on his chest. ‘I was just educating Wolfram on the finer points of fresh vegetables.’
‘Why would that be interesting?’
‘As it happens, I found a buyer for the few that survived the trip back. Bet you can’t guess who bought them.’
‘No idea.’
He grinned stupidly. ‘Only the Bronadi ambassador! He was really keen on the Romanesco broccoli. He’s got a thing for mathematics, and said it looked very fractal.’
Sebastian rolled his eyes. ‘How many credits did you get for them?’
‘None.’
> ‘You gave them away?’
‘Not exactly. He owes me a favour now – you know how formal the Bronadi are. They’re good for keeping promises, and you never know when a favour might come in handy.’
Despite not having met one face to face, Sebastian knew all about the dog-like Bronadi and their protocols. They were renowned for their penchant for debts and the sanctity of barter. ‘Would you like to do me a favour and build a connector so we can interface Wolfram with the melted cube?’
Aryx slid back under the ship. ‘It was next on my list. Once I’ve replaced this panel, I’ll make a start on it.’
Sebastian boarded the ship and made his way to the upper deck, where he sat at the diagnostics console. ‘Computer, play back the security video I just transferred, and for Gods’ sakes give it a sensible name … “Explosion video” will do just fine.’
‘Video renamed. Beginning playback.’ The screen above the console lit up and the figure once again approached from the far end of the corridor, moving into shot. Apparently, the week of computer processing had paid off; the figure was perfectly clear.
The person was average height for a Human – not that there were any distinctive features in the corridor against which to measure – and definitely male, with his face obscured beneath a twentieth-century style baseball cap. He wore a nondescript set of tan overalls, similar to Aryx’s engineering uniform.
‘Computer, I want a print and capture of the face when it’s visible.’
The video froze several seconds before the explosion was due to occur. A grey-haired man with a jaggedly hacked-off beard looked up at the hidden camera. Certainly not someone he recognised. ‘Aryx!’
‘Yeah?’
‘Come up here. I need to see if you recognise this man.’
Aryx rolled off the lift with the cube in his lap and leaned on the console. ‘What am I looking at?’
‘This,’ Sebastian said, pointing at the screen. ‘It’s our explosives expert-cum-thaumaturgist on the security video. Do you recognise him at all?’
‘Ahh. Nope.’