Clarity's Edge: Technopaladin, #1

by Elizabeth Corrigan

  Chapter 3

  “You broke the girl’s leg, Al!” Cass said as soon as the door to his room shut. He’d been waiting half the day to unload on the owl, and the barracks seemed the best place to do that where no one would overhear. My going home has nothing to with what Tenacity said. I needed to talk to Al, and I didn’t have any urgent work, and I wanted to work on my personal projects. Most paladins kept their living spaces sparse and utilitarian, but Cass surrounded himself with broken gadgets, half-constructed gizmos, and spare parts for both.

  “Hoo.” Al perched on top of Cass’s closet door, his glassy eyes innocent.

  “Don’t you ‘Hoo’ me!” Cass threw his jacket on the bed, then flopped down after it. He scowled at the bird.

  Meg sauntered past him and jumped onto his desk. “What do you care? You don’t like her anyway.” She stretched, knocking a part---Cass couldn’t see which one but felt certain he would need it later---onto the floor.

  “Just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean I want her to suffer bodily harm!” Cass said. “We’re paladins! We have certain ethical standards to uphold!”

  “Oh, so you’ve been thinking about her body, then,” Meg said as she curled up and closed her eyes.

  Cass opened his mouth to form a retort he was sure would be quite cutting---not that Meg would care---when Al spoke. “Uphold ethical standards like Valor does?”

  Cass clenched his fists. The sound of his brother’s name was enough to put him into a headache inducing rage. “Just because Valor is the world’s worst paladin doesn’t mean I have to be. I don’t have morals because it impresses my father and the Council. I have them because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Al flew down next to him. “I’m sorry, Cass,” the owl said. “It was just supposed to be a few pranks. I didn’t mean to injure her.”

  Cass stroked the top of Al’s head, and the robot closed his eyes and preened as if he could feel it. “I know, buddy. But let’s leave the pranks alone for a while, shall we? I don’t want to have to change your programming.” Cass could never explain to Tenacity why it would be a violation to modify the AI’s algorithms, especially since they weren’t sentient, just complex. Maybe Tenacity was right about him needing some human friends.

  “I don’t think the girl’s so bad.” A purr reverberated through Meg’s words.

  “That’s because you don’t know her,” Cass said, sitting up. He’d wasted enough time moping. He needed to get some work done on his fetching drone. He pulled his magnifying goggles out of his shirt pocket and put them on.

  “Do you know her?” Al asked, flying alongside Cass as he moved to the desk and looked for his micro-screwdriver. It wasn’t where he’d left it, so he had to assume it had been Meg’s victim.

  “I inadvertently went to dinner with my parents a few times when she was there,” Cass said, dropping into a crouch to look for the device. “She was horrid. Always deferential to my father about everything.” From the silence that followed, Cass could imagine what was going through at least Meg’s mind. He was always deferential to his father, too. Total obedience was the only way to deal with Steadfastness Hughes. “Besides, she’s dating Valor.”

  Even to his own ears, that argument was starting to sound weak.

  Clarity stared at the intro tech manual projecting up from her watch and tried not to think studying the thing was pointless. I’m working tech support now. I need to know tech things. Never mind that I could probably learn more from Cass Hughes---who everyone says is the most brilliant mechanical mind of our generation---in an hour than I could from this book. Well, I could if he bothered to teach me. I need to do something.

  Clarity found that without use of her ankle, she was horribly bored. She usually engaged in so much physical activity, she didn’t have much time for anything else. Apparently she needed a hobby that didn’t involve her foot. She’d tried looking up some fiction to read, but there had been so many choices, and she had no idea what she would like. She ran into the same problem with music. Her drawing skills were abysmal, so trying a new graphic art program was out of the question, and she’d never developed a taste for the war sims Valor and his friends had been so fond of. Clarity liked to spend her time in a productive manner, and if reminding herself about basic tech was the closest she could come to usefulness, that was what she was going to do.

  When her door chimed, she would have jumped out of her bed with relief, if not for her ankle. Instead she called out, “Come in!” in a disproportionately excited voice. She didn’t care if Valor had returned from his station or a laser saw murderer had come to kill her. Either of those things would liven up her evening.

  The much less exciting but much more welcome Hope walked into Clarity’s room. “Clarity! Sweetie! Zeal told me what happened to your ankle! How are you holding up?”

  Clarity held out the offending limb so Hope could see her cast. “It doesn’t hurt very much, if that’s what you’re asking, but I’m bored out of my skull. I tried to get Determination to let me work. I thought I could do paperwork or something, but he looked at me like I was deranged. Apparently no one volunteers to do paperwork. So I’m stuck doing nothing for two weeks.”

  Hope gave a happy sigh. “I’m so jealous. If I broke my ankle, I’d still have to do my job. I wish I could sit around reading romance novels for two weeks.”

  “I’m going to get so out of shape! The crutches require some stamina, sure, but I can’t run! They won’t even let me into the gym to lift weights while I’m off duty.”

  Hope glanced at the interactive program Clarity had been reading. “So you’re going to do tech support all day?”

  “Ugh, don’t get me started.” Clarity pressed a button on her watch, and the gibberish disappeared. “Today was terrible. Cass barely looked at me, and I didn’t understand any of the tech problems that came up. Some of them seemed pretty basic, but even when I asked, he wouldn’t teach me anything. This whole cross-training was his idea!”

  Hope sat down on the end of Clarity’s bed. “Really? I got the impression you were stubborn.”

  Clarity gave a rueful smile. “Maybe a bit. But literally the only thing I can do related to my job at the moment is get the tech staff to go to training. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Maybe the quartermaster will let you take a motorcycle out into the city. The bikes are powered by AIs, so you don’t need your foot to control them. You could go shopping! For a dress, since you probably didn’t get around to doing that today like you promised. And there are shoes and jewelry and hair ornaments to buy!”

  “Okay, first off, you need to stop projecting your wishes onto me. Second---” Clarity broke off, because second was that she had forgotten about ordering a dress, and she didn’t want to argue with Hope about that. “---I’m not going shopping for accessories without you. You know I’m hopeless when it comes to that kind of thing. There’s more than one reason I wear armor all the time. And third---”

  “All right, all right,” Hope said. “I get it. You want to be miserable.”

  “Actually, third was going to be ‘That’s not a bad idea.’ I haven’t been out of the Citadel in a while, and taking a ride might be like going for a run.”

  “I do not know how we are friends,” said Hope, but she was giggling.

  Clarity laughed as well. “Honestly, I don’t remember a time when we weren’t friends. We must have bonded on our first trip to the Citadel and never looked back.”

  Hope’s smile fell. “They’re making me go this year. On the Visionary’s Journey to find paladins among the children.”

  Clarity reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand. They both knew the practice of recruiting paladins from Londigium villages was necessary, but they also knew how cruel it could be. Becoming a paladin was a calling, not a choice. The Visionary had a special spyglass through which she could see which children would gr
ow up to be noble enough to join the order. A large percentage of the order came from the paladin Families, but a fair number of them came from the city or the outlying villages. If the Visionary chose a child, she would give the child a new name, that of the virtue they would most possess, and take them away to become a servant of the people. Being chosen was a great honor, but not every family parted with their children happily---or even willingly. As the future Visionary, Hope was apparently expected to go on the trip.

  “Will you come with me, Clarity?” Hope asked in a small voice. “As one of the guards? I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

  Clarity didn’t answer right away, and she knew Hope would understand why. Not only would a trip with the Visionary put Clarity’s position at the Citadel in jeopardy, but the warriors who accompanied the Journey did not have an easy task. Sometimes families fought to keep the Visionary away from their children, and the warriors had to restrain ordinary citizens to keep the Visionary safe and allow her to continue her progress.

  It’s easy to know what the right thing to do is, thought Clarity. It was her motto. It was why she was Clarity, instead of some other virtue. For her, the right path was always clear.

  “Yes, Hope. I will go with you.”

  The next day when Cass showed up for tech support, Clarity was already there. She had her hands folded together and a look of determination on her face. Tenacity was right, thought Cass. The only reason this girl is Clarity is Tenacity and Determination were already taken. He hung his coat on the back of the chair and sat down. But she’s not the only stubborn one. There’s no way I’m going to physical training.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” Clarity said. Cass didn’t acknowledge her. He hoped if he was rude enough, she’d stop talking and go away, but she continued in a stronger voice. “You said you wanted to cross train me. That will work best if you explain what you’re doing when you help people.” Cass continued to face away from her and pulled up the call list from earlier in the day on his watch. “I know I won’t be able to understand most of the cases, but---”

  “You’re right. You won’t.” Cass spun in his chair to face her. “And I’m not wasting my time explaining things to you, so you might as well just run along.”

  Clarity blinked, and for a moment, the look of determination in her eyes turned to one of hurt. Cass whirled back around before he could see if she regained her resolve. He told himself it was because he didn’t care.

  “Was that really called for?” A different feminine voice came from near the closed door. If he hadn’t known who it was from the purr in her voice, the pitter-pat on the table next to him would have given it away.

  “You’re not supposed to come to tech support, Meg,” he told the mechanical cat. “You know this.”

  “Well, if you wanted me to follow orders, you should have made me a dog.” Meg swished her tail through Cass’s glowing list, then headed over to Clarity. “Hello. We haven’t been properly introduced. You’re Clarity, and I’m Meg. You may pet me if you wish.”

  Clarity reached out a tentative hand and stroked the metallic head. Meg made such a show of purring that Cass had to resist the urge to snort. “It’s nice to meet you, Meg,” Clarity said.

  The cat walked forward and brushed her steely body against Clarity’s. “Did you know he made his owl companion male and me female? Everyone says owls are wise, and that cats are sneaky. Do you think he was making a statement about gender as a whole?”

  “Stars, Meg, no!” Cass would put up with a lot from his AIs, but this argument was tired, and he definitely didn’t want to have it with Clarity. “I wanted a male and a female robot, and this was how it worked out.”

  “I don’t know,” Meg said, still looking at Clarity. “We don’t really have sexes, being machines and all, so did we even need genders?”

  Clarity watched this exchange with a small smile on her face, which just ticked off Cass more. “What’s so funny?” he asked, trying not to get even more annoyed at the petulant note in his voice.

  “It’s cute, that’s all,” Clarity said, scratching behind Meg’s ears. “You guys clearly care about each other.”

  “Oh, I don’t care about anything,” Meg said. “I seem real enough, but I’m just a very sophisticated program. Besides, I’m a cat.”

  Clarity stopped petting Meg and gave her a quizzical look. “Are you sure? How can you tell?”

  “There are tests of sentience. They don’t pass.” Cass didn’t want to get into the issue with Clarity, but the truth was, he didn’t want to create a sentient AI. Not only did the order have strict rules against it, but the ethical issues involved could make Cass panic. So he stopped short any time he thought he might make a breakthrough on that front. Which makes it all the more sad that Al and Meg are my only friends.

  “Does that mean they don’t operate of their own free will?” Clarity’s expression seemed guarded, and Cass wondered where this line of questioning was going.

  “They operate according to self-perpetuating programming, but since I designed them, legally I can be held accountable for anything they do.”

  Clarity leaned back in her chair. “So what you’re saying is that it’s in your best interests if I don’t tell anyone what really happened to my ankle?”

  As heat rose to Cass’s face, Meg chuckled. “I like her. She’s smart.”

  “I didn’t…” Cass floundered for the right words. “Al wasn’t… He didn’t mean to break your ankle. He plays tricks sometimes on people I… on people. He’s not usually dangerous.” A hollow feeling rose in Cass’s chest as he realized the potential ramifications of Clarity realizing what Al had done. I’ll lose him. “Please don’t turn him in. If my father or Tenacity or anybody finds out he injured someone, they’ll make me reprogram him, or worse, decommission him.”

  “Cass, breathe.” Clarity’s face was suddenly serious. Cass was about to retort back that he was breathing, albeit at a more rapid pace than usual, when she reached out and touched his mechanical hand. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

  He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. No one touched his mechanical hand. Even in their high tech society, people were still uncomfortable with the idea of someone being part machine. Clarity, though, had reached for it as if it were no different than his other hand. “Thank you,” he said.

  She didn’t move or smile, at least not for a few seconds, which was all it took for someone to walk in. At the swish of the door parting, Cass jerked his hand away from Clarity and nearly spun in his seat to face the opposite wall. Clarity managed to retain more composure, but she still pulled her arm away with alacrity.

  Without seeming to notice he had interrupted something---which he hadn’t, because nothing was happening---a warrior Cass didn’t know stormed into the room waving a pair of black boxing gloves. “These things are broken!” He flung them on the table in front of Cass.

  Cass picked up the gloves and sighed. A warrior came in at least every other week complaining about his boxing gloves, and Cass could never see the problem, much less fix it. The only mechanical thing about them was that they counted punches. Cass put them on and punched the table a few times with each hand. The meter on the gloves ticked upward with each hit.

  “What exactly seems to be the problem, sir?” asked Cass, keeping his expression stony to mask his disdain for the warrior’s arrogance. “They seem to be in working order.”

  “They keep botching and resetting during my reps,” the warrior said. “The other guys are all beating my jabbing speed, when I know I’m faster than them.”

  “I prescribe looking for self-worth inside yourself, instead of getting it from other people,” said Cass, handing the gloves back. “These are working fine.”

  The warrior’s face turned beet red, probably from anger rather than embarrassment. They hated it when Cass spoke to them without what they saw as proper deference.
<
br />   “Um. Could I take a look at those?” Clarity’s callused hand reached out to pick up the gloves but hesitated as if waiting for Cass’s permission. He gestured at her to take them. She looked up at the warrior. “It’s Endurance, right?” she asked as she ran her finger along the thumb of the glove.

  The warrior---Endurance---calmed. “Yes, that’s right.” He smiled at her. “You’re Clarity, I believe? What are you doing working tech support?”

  “It’s a cross training thing.” Her voice was detached as she focused on the glove. “We make the techs train with us, so I thought I’d train with them.”

  Endurance laughed. “I hope they don’t make me do that.”

  “No danger of that,” muttered Cass.

  “I think I know what the problem is with the gloves,” Clarity said. “I had a similar issue with mine a while back. The reset button in the thumb sometimes slides to the index finger side of the glove. Since you can still reset by pressing the thumb inward it’s not obvious, but the result is that sometimes you accidentally hit the button when you punch.” She pressed into the side of the glove, and Cass could see the impression of a device that was not supposed to be there. With some effort, she maneuvered it back around to the thumb, then repeated the process with the other glove. “There. Good as new.” She gave Endurance a brilliant smile as she returned the gloves.”

  “Hey, thanks!” Endurance said. “Maybe there’s something to this cross-training thing after all!”

  Cass expected a dirty look from the warrior as he left, but Endurance ignored Cass and headed out the door. Cass shook his head as Clarity sank back into her chair, unaware she had solved a problem that had been bothering the tech team for months. Maybe that warrior is right. Maybe there is something to this cross-training. Maybe this warrior girl isn’t completely useless after all.

  Chapter 4