by V Guy
Her expression was light. She had clearly enjoyed herself, and it had nothing to do with her existence beyond the virtual-game’s boundaries.
“You found some things,” he said, observing her basket. “I could rent you a place in the nearby neighborhood if you wished to preserve them.”
Kroes’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“You could grow flowers in a little garden, or you could place those in a vase and set them on a window sill. They would certainly last longer than plants collected in the real world.”
She paused to examine the cut blooms. “I doubt you’d find these in the real world.”
Kilam considered the exotic flowers. “I could fabricate real-life duplications. Might take time to get it to grow and respond properly, but rules concerning fully alien genetic varieties of plants are strict; I could only create cuttings, supposing I received permission for those.”
“You could make these?” She raised them to better appreciate them.
He reconsidered his declaration. “Maybe. Perhaps not. Genetic sequences to produce those colors, patterns, and fragrances are complex and potentially impossible. This is a game after all. Fantasy rules.”
“But reality makes it better.” Kroes lowered the flowers and basket and lifted free a perfectly ripe peach. She luxuriated in the fruit’s wondrous fragrance and took a delicate bite. “This is the best I’ve ever found. Was able to bargain the vendor down.”
As Kroes’s mental presence was markedly altered from her first visit; it was also notably different since the newest conditioning routines. The changes were an improvement.
“That’s the thing about reality,” he said, choosing one from the basket. “You cannot program this kind of perfection. Well, you can, as I did in Cheonia, but the reward in the real world comes from the preparation, the perspiration, the patience, and the produce. Even then, there’s no guarantee results meet expectations.”
He returned the peach to the basket. “You should try some of the other, better virtual varieties. They offer unique takes off the standard.”
“I like the standard,” she said, biting into the fruit and letting the juice run down her chin. “It’s difficult to find anything this good in the real-world. They’re either unripe, too ripe, or bruised.”
Various fruits occupied her basket, and Kilam lifted an oddly shaped one.
Her face colored. “I wanted to try something different.”
He made a knowing smile. “Oh, this one’s decidedly different.”
Kilam returned his attention to the control console, summoning a view of one of the middle cantons. Other images came to life, and he began integrating them.
“What can you actually accomplish from here?” asked Kroes. “Isn’t the war a long way away?”
“There are occasionally strategic concerns.” He pointed to one portion of the projected image. “Passage into the adjoining canton from this location will require extra preparation, and I must secure it early to ensure its readiness for a cliff drop and inlet crossing.”
She withdrew another peach as she considered the strategy. “I never see you anywhere else. How do you micromanage an entire empire from here?”
“I don’t. I have other avatars working the empire’s various regions, more managing the occupied territories, plus some at the front.”
Kroes looked at him with disbelief. “How many now?”
“Twenty-three.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at the amount and in disbelief at his nonchalance. “You can multitask twenty-four-fold?”
“I can online with management switching, because the software helps. Sometimes you must sit and wait for jobs to finish.”
“How many full tasks in the real world?”
“Nine, but I normally choose four or five on which to focus.”
Kroes turned away toward the crowds below. “I suppose you’d need the extra flexibility. Finishing the conquest of two cantons, stabilization of another, and occupying nine more with minimal garrisons. That would be a little involved.”
Kilam amended troop assignments. “You’re rather cognizant of my progress.”
She nodded. “It’s remarkable, total warfare. It’s like watching a tidal wave swamp a city; a person can’t pull their eyes away. If you continue staggering your conquests, I suppose you’ll be invading one canton and dissolving another in a few days?”
“Conquest of two,” he said, turning away. “I’m accelerating the advance. The tactics have been established, simplifying things, but they’re still involved.”
“I guess it helped to get the nanobots out.”
He kept his gaze neutral and on the controls. “It does.”
“But you couldn’t reach Salient.”
Kilam stiffened. “Not yet.”
She made a soft chuckle.
“What do you know about Salient?” he asked, his eyes blazing.
Kroes popped a strawberry into her mouth and gave him a curious look. “You made my job easier, whatever you did. Many people were suddenly exposed, and one of them was a councilman. Of course, lots of little people needed to fall before I could get my hands on him.”
“What I did?”
She paused, making a skeptical expression. “You stopped the flow of Focus.”
“The Third Fleet closed the channel.”
“It stopped well before that.” Kroes paced the balcony’s edge, running her fingers along the polished stone. “They closed it because they were scared. Numerous ships were inexplicably lost, but I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”
He was silent for a moment. “No.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you weren’t. Prisoners were transferred to the facility for several years without issues, and only after the Catricellan survivors were moved did the problems begin. I know how you felt about them.”
Kilam’s countenance darkened. “You were aware of the Focus factory.”
“I knew lots of things. Knowing is my business.”
“You were the law enforcement tasked with protecting them.” His harmony dropped a few notes. “You sanctioned their deaths, never mind knowing how debilitating Focus could be, and let them continue.”
She turned to ponder the plaza. “Money and power sanctioned it. This was a government program as surely as any, and I was under their command. Why do you think numerous people were vulnerable when the supply was severed? You interrogated Norris…didn’t you uncover names?”
He disabled the console and frowned. “I was busy with San.”
“San made you angry, and her organization lost its teeth,” she said, laughing. “And its arms, hands, legs, feet…”
Kilam seethed. “San didn’t honor a deal.”
Kroes momentarily froze. Her voice dropped as she composed herself. “I have names. Some of them were involved with Salient and are still untouchable. How would you like to touch them?”
“I already have names to investigate.” He exhaled in frustration. “When am I supposed to find them?”
“Oh, I can tell you exactly where they are. Why haven’t you finished questioning those supervisors?”
Kilam scowled. “I do have other things on my mind.”
“Like finding Selena, Salient, and helping Evaline Investigative with clandestine matters?”
He glared at her.
“We’re in the same business, they and I,” she said, smiling. “You’re making both our lives easier. Or harder, depending on the point of view.”
“Why would you tell me their names?”
She faced him. “These people have other enterprises to support themselves. I can’t break them because of their connections, and they’re interfering with very important cases. Among them, one is vital. You would get some vengeance, and I would get some relief.”
He could sense her earnestness, even within Xist. “Not leverage?”
“I don’t need additional leverage. These people have unknown contacts within Central Security and are informed o
f my actions in advance; they wouldn’t see you coming.”
“Then I have a request,” said Kilam, setting his jaw. “These interviews by law enforcement are getting leaked. People inside the force are talking or just careless with their data handling, some outside are acting, and my master has been threatened numerous times.”
Her eyebrows raised in interest, and she made a slight smile. “You want me to deal with the assailants?”
“Others have dealt with the assailants. I’ve eliminated the outside contacts, but I’m talking about cops. Considering my precarious position, killing even crooked cops reflects poorly. I need you to deal with those leaks, expose their other connections, and silence them.”
“Enticing,” said Kroes, grinning and moving as if a liaison had been proposed. “An exchange of names? I like it.”
A notebook, representative of the individuals and information on her list, appeared in her hand. She pulled on it, creating a duplicate. After making some emendations, she handed it to him. “Ten people for you. Some are more time critical than others, but they all need attention.”
He followed suit, producing and duplicating a notebook of his own. “There was quite a bit of information in their contacts’ brains.”
Pleasure washed over her, and she eagerly grabbed the compilation. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. To think about it, I haven’t felt this good in a while.”
Kroes’s expression sobered, and she turned to observe the people below, shaking her head. “How strange to feel this way…no wonder everyone seems to love Spring City. Do we have a deal?”
Kilam followed her gaze. “We do.”
She uncharacteristically shook his hand to seal the agreement and strode away. A glance into her abandoned basket revealed that while most of her acquisitions were untouched, the strange fruit was gone. Malik’s sense of the future shifted.
***
Helen was a diligent participant of the differentiation program and had fully immersed herself within it. When she emerged from her quarters after completion to locate Malik, she immediately signaled for a meeting in the mind chamber.
There was a fresh maturity and depth to her presence, and she approached him with a strong resolve and certainty. She turned to study him, as if he were the one who changed. “You’ve been busy.”
“Exceedingly so.” He watched her with an equal scrutiny. “You decided which of your old memories and skills you wished to keep?”
Helen nodded, looking around the passive chamber. “Kept the legitimate memories and enough of the old for reference. Most of the skills I retained; a woman in this galaxy should be prepared as much as possible.”
“Indeed, that’s true. Have you decided on a future?”
She nodded again, her mental presence solid. “I want to teach music. I like it, and I can sing.”
He had heard her voice and was in solid agreement. “You’ll need to establish proof of secondary schooling, using an equivalency test if necessary. Liola will take one such test when she’s ready. I can arrange your admittance into Santa Anna’s; you can stay until the term begins.”
“I wish to leave immediately. I just need a history and some money. I’ll manage the rest.”
“There’s no rush.”
“There is for me.” Helen’s mind was set. “I must get away from this atmosphere and lifestyle.”
He paused, both in satisfaction and sadness. “Tell me who you wish to be. It’ll take at least a week to establish, maybe two.”
Her form relaxed. “May I see how I appear to you?”
His affirmative was confirmed by the intricate patterns appearing around her. A sense of completeness was present in the presentation, and she was awed by the change. “I knew I felt different. It’s astonishing.”
“It is. It’s rather beautiful, but then you were always beautiful—just different.”
“You thought so?”
“Absolutely.”
She initially doubted his sincerity then dismissed the thought. “What has happened with Kroes?”
“The captain made a deal and shook my hand to secure it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Will you continue the conditioning after I leave?”
He shook his head. “She might find you. If she learns all the surveillance were fakes, she could surmise I was lying, and whatever grace I earned might evaporate. No. Once you leave, the conditioning stops.”
“What were the results?”
“I implanted positive and negative conditioning routines within your supposed recall. Kroes’s last visit to me was more than a month ago, and when she arrived today, she was dramatically altered.”
“The positives?”
“My observations from the bugged commandos said she was largely indifferent concerning what she ate. I implanted positive food responses. First, it was one fruit. Next, there was a second. Following that, a beverage was presented. The initial response was by intention, slow, but she soon began to demonstrate preferences. A total of four different edible food and drink items were encouraged. She has been showing an increasing, voluntary tendency toward partiality, and I’ve observed at least eight different items she now favors that she previously did not acknowledge.”
“How?” asked Helen in surprise. “Do you know what happened within her?”
He smiled. “I believe I planted fertile seeds. These particular items brought her joy, and she sought out more items like them. Things she would have normally dismissed as staples and uninteresting, she now enlivens. Also, her newfound opinions have branched; she apparently has particular favorites among my flowers.”
“She’s diversifying.” She scratched her head. “I don’t see how this helps.”
Malik paused. “Choosing preferences means she is designating value to some things while discarding others. If these values can be transferred to moral distinctions, then her attitudes toward people in general can be improved. I hope to apply these to her occupation, leading her to choose impartial justice because she believes it to be preferable, and thus better.”
Helen frowned in disapproval. “I thought you’d have started with justice. Wasn’t the point of it all to make her regret?”
“The intention was to make her change, and positive reinforcement is received more readily than negative. She’s making personal judgments based upon it, the idea of impartial justice has been planted, and her previous actions, and decisions should cause regret to grow spontaneously.”
“And her response?”
“She might choose to do the right thing.”
“Might, believe, and should,” said Helen, shaking her head. “I wish you had something more concrete.”
“Kroes did shake my hand; she was unhesitant.”
Her eyes widened as she reconsidered his earlier statement. “That’s huge. Why would she do that?”
He gazed thoughtfully at the woman’s mental patterns. “She likes how she feels, associates the feelings with the capital’s Grand Bazaar, and links the Grand Bazaar to me.”
“Are you certain?”
Malik smiled with pleasure. “My portent of your futures has risen from dire to hopeful. I daresay I am.”
34: Depth
Day 772: Stellar Clipper
Selena’s eyes opened, and she gazed around her quarters as if to see how things had changed. The ship’s staff kept her quarters immaculate and pleasant, providing fresh flowers daily and candles when night came and the lights fell. Nothing around her was substandard. Every fixture was custom made: the shower was inlaid with hand-set frescos, and all the switches and terminals were gold or framed in gold. Toiletry holders were artistically painted ceramics; soft, embroidered rugs comforted her toes when she walked; and silken fabrics caressed her body while she slept. She daily saw these luxuries throughout the ship, but a small piece of her insisted that the accommodations were exceptional. That small piece was becoming progressively more vocal.
Peruvian lilies had been added during the early morning h
ours, a five-day-old bouquet had been removed, fresh towels and bath clothes were folded on the bathroom counter, and a clean robe hung on hook beside her bed. Unseen but likely present were freshly laundered undergarments and exercise garb placed in the drawers. Other than those regular alterations, there were no obvious, substantial changes. She rose from her rest, clasping her thin gown tightly as she considered the space.
Selena’s world differed in subjective and meaningful qualities other than the small, visible items before her. Although her mind had difficulty quantifying the difference, she was unconcerned. It was much like having colorblindness progressively reversed or bad vision incrementally corrected. In the end, she was pleased and looked at her personal area with satisfaction. She went to her terminal, checked the time, cross-referenced it with a displayed schedule, and made plans for the day.
The first week of her explorations into the past had been excruciating. She was conditioned to tolerate pain, but this exercise to discover her origins was a sore test. Her first two nights had been failed studies in determination. The next two nights had been equally painful, but she had persisted until fainting from the agony. Selena had steeled herself during the final nights of the first week; she learned she could remain alert if she properly prepared herself. The reward for these efforts, other than the intense pain, was a fresh sense of depth within her mind. She was more than a slave. She was someone.
Another quality that came with this depth was a slight weakening of the strands that drew her to her master. The change was small enough to avoid causing alarm to the very loyal persona written within her; she continued.
The second week saw her endeavoring to spend greater time in the effort. Knowing her master would be aware if she were troubled, she went to great lengths to avoid the trials when he was idle, instead scheduling the sessions when her master’s schedule indicated he would be preoccupied. She was also careful to shy from moments when her countenance could publicly display her duress. This involved careful planning and practice. After the third week, she could present a visage of peace and happiness even as she experienced inward agony. After the fourth, she was continually pursuing the pain, removing the layers that concealed her past even while she ate, exercised, and bathed. But she needed to be careful. Avoiding her master would be too obvious and suspicious, and she very deliberately made a point to see him, either during her exercising or her apparent search for diversion when he was moving toward an appointment.