After Masozi finished opening the channel to Eve’s terminal, she produced a data pad which would send an encrypted signal to a transceiver built into Eve’s core processor which would request her to boot up.
A moment after the signal was sent, Eve’s face appeared on the console built into the conference table. “Heya, Soze,” she said, using yet another in a seemingly endless stream of nicknames she had devised in recent weeks, “you called?”
“Jericho said you should be present for this meeting, Eve,” Masozi explained, and Eve’s digital eyes rolled emphatically.
“I am happy to be of service,” she sighed. “How ‘bout putting me up on the big screen, though?”
A moment later, Masozi did as Eve had requested and her digital avatar appeared on the conference room’s primary viewer. “Eve,” Jericho said, “you already know about the Adjustments we need to make.”
“You’re going to Virgin,” Eve nodded, “and you want Macy and me to go to Rationem before heading on. You didn’t wake me up just for that, did you?”
“Not just that, no,” Jericho shook his head, “you’re already familiar with the rough outline of the plan, but there are some details we need to go over.”
“I’m all ears, boss,” Eve said, snapping her digital body to yet another hilariously bad approximation of military attention on the screen. Her ears actually enlarged as she did so until they made her look like an elf, and Masozi snorted as she suppressed the urge to laugh.
“First,” Jericho said, “the fact that you’re even going to Rationem is something of a concern. Adjuster Newman, who is the definite wild card in our tribunal, is supposedly from that world. But he wouldn’t be the first person to forge an identity by using Rationem as his faux place of origin.”
“You want me to dig up some dirt on him?” Eve asked eagerly, her eyes flashing like a pixie’s might do in a magic-filled fairy tale. Even after spending several days with Eve doing little more than going over mission logs and learning bout Eve’s peculiar nature, Masozi still found herself marveling that an artificial personality like hers could be so convincing. It was no wonder to Masozi, after interacting with Eve for as long as she had done, that Benton’s life had essentially revolved around her. She was nothing if not engaging—or possibly even captivating, depending on one’s perspective.
“If you can do so without endangering the rest of your mission,” Jericho nodded, “then consider it a secondary objective. Also, it might be a good opportunity to check on some of Benton’s old resources on Rationem before you move on. He mentioned data dumps there which might come in handy.”
“Way ahead of ya, boss-man,” Eve said smartly. “There are three caches located in secure facilities which have high-grade content, and Benton left me the access codes in my tertiary caches which Jericho recovered from my…umm…’me’ back on the E.V.E. in orbit over Virgin.”
“What kind of information is stored there?” Masozi asked, her curiosity piqued by this particular revelation. Wladimir Benton had been a giant—literally and figuratively—in the realm of information manipulation, and if he had stashed sensitive intel on a backwater world like Rationem then it was probably pretty valuable.
“Doesn’t say, sis,” Eve shook her head. “All I’ve got are encrypted coordinates and a set of passkeys. I can probably access the caches via one of my handy-dandy remote platforms—you’d call it a drone,” she said with a dismissive wave in Shu’s direction before winking suggestively. “So, with any luck, we won’t even have to make a detour once we touch down on the surface.”
“I’m sorry,” Shu said in obvious exasperation, leaning forward and pointing a thumb at Eve’s digital image, “what, exactly, is she?”
Eve giggled, covering her pouty lips with her digital fingers as Jericho shook his head firmly. “She’s a part of the team, and she’s earned her place on it just like everyone else at this table,” he said, “that’s all that matters at the moment.”
Shu made a discontented sound as she leaned back in her chair, but remained silent for several seconds before asking, “How long until you and I get off this ship?”
“Two days,” Jericho replied as he stood from the table, “during that time, I suggest we read up on our respective assignments. If you’ve got any questions, it would be best to ask them before we split up.”
“Oooh,” Eve said, her digital face squeezed into Masozi’s wrist-link screen as the former Investigator sipped a bottle of electrolyte solution following a long session in the gym, “this one looks juicy.”
“What is it?” Masozi asked as she stripped out of her workout suit.
“Check this out,” Eve said, “one of our Rationem Adjustments is a school teacher!”
“A what?” Masozi stopped after peeling her sports bra off and tossing it into a hamper near the shower. “How can a school teacher possibly be slated for a Tyrannis Adjustment?”
“I told you: it’s juicy,” Eve said with a wink. “Seems like she was the superintendent of a major metropolis’ public school districts for nearly twenty years, and during that time she used her position to discriminate against certain groups by disallowing them access to the higher-quality schools in their areas. It’s not complete, and it’s pretty cleverly concealed, but the statistics show a clear pattern.”
“What groups was she discriminating against?” Masozi asked as she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. One of the truly luxurious benefits of being afforded an officer’s quarters aboard the Zhuge Liang was free hot water on tap—a luxury which she guiltily indulged in at every possible opportunity. One of the true revelations she had experienced following her unexpected flight from New Lincoln had been just how constricted her life had been in the various flats she had called ‘home’ during her career as an Investigator.
“Oh, you know; the usual,” Eve sighed. “The files we were given—which I haven’t verified since we aren’t yet in Rationem—show a pattern of religious discrimination.”
“She was only permitting people into the district based if they aligned with her religious views?” Masozi asked, finding she was more than slightly offended that someone with religious views would abuse power to advantage only those of a similar faith.
“Not exactly,” Eve explained as Masozi stepped into the shower and let the water splash over her short-cropped, nearly scalp-tight hair. “She was using her position to keep all brands of overtly religious people who were affiliated with after-hours programs—like boy or girl scouts, agricultural clubs, or religious study groups—out of the schools that had fast-tracks to the most prestigious technical universities on the planet.”
Masozi scrubbed her scalp and let the hot, steaming water splash against her eyelids for several seconds as she let the water wash away the slick sweat she had worked up in the gym. “How many diverted kids are we talking about?” Masozi asked, ashamed that someone who shared her own atheistic views would stoop so low as to actually hold people out of the educational paths based simply on a difference of belief.
“Obviously that’s a little tricky, but it doesn’t take that many to legitimize an Adjustment,” Eve explained. “My algorithms suggest a 98% probability that there were more than seven thousand students redirected away from the high-value pipelines, and two thousand of those were two standard deviations or more above the median intellect of Rationem’s populace.”
Masozi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “So she wasn’t just targeting religious kids…” she said slowly, feeling an anger begin to burn within herself that was dangerously similar to the emotion she’d felt in the minutes and hours prior to executing the Keno Adjustment. “She was targeting smart religious kids.”
“Told ya it was juicy,” Eve chided. “Again, it’s hard to put an RL value on these educational diversions, but using simple statistics we can confidently say that at least a third of those two thousand would have ended up in one of the three top universities on Rationem. Of those seven hundred, half would have ended up with do
ctorates in applied fields from those universities—and a quarter of those would be in high-profile educational positions by now.”
“What actually happened to the kids?” Masozi asked.
“That’s the part that raised attention to the whole thing,” Eve explained as Masozi washed her body in a long-practiced routine, using a scented soap that was a reasonable approximation of her favorite brand from back on Virgin. “Only three hundred were granted entry into the technical institutes, and they did slightly worse than the median projections suggested they should have done.”
“So…long story short, she cut nearly a hundred people off from PhD’s which would have allowed them to represent their beliefs,” Masozi concluded. “That’s…unthinkable.” She realized now why this particular case had come under the Tyranny branch of the Timent Electorum. This woman had abused her power and, in doing so, irrevocably altered the life paths of people who should have, by every right, been contributing to humanity’s betterment from the positions she clearly wished to deny them.
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Eve agreed. “Eighteen of the redirected kids were victims of fatal school-ground violence over her twenty year career, whereas no more than half would have been projected to meet the same fate at the better schools where they should have gone. There really is no way to accurately calculate just how much of an impact this woman had on Rationem’s society.”
“Is there any direct evidence to support her motives in doing this?” Masozi asked, uncertain that she could actually kill this woman without some kind of proof as to her reasoning for such a simple, yet surprisingly effective, abuse of her office.
“I’ve got a whole file from Jericho which details Tyrannis Adjustments,” Eve said, “but, ‘long story short,’ we don’t need to establish motive to execute it. We only need to verify the effects of her actions and that she was the author of them; in fact, a Tyrannis Adjustment even permits us to examine those people who acted under her orders to carry out the crimes for which she’s to be Adjusted.”
“That’s…too broad of a mandate,” Masozi shook her head as she turned off the water. The steam from the shower had cleared her sinuses, and she drew a deep breath of the warm, wet air before opening the door and retrieving a nearby towel as the colder air of her quarters rushed over her exposed skin.
“Jericho’s file says that’s why Adjusters have to get 100,000 RL before they can execute Tyrannis Adjustments,” Eve explained. “There are decisions required at this level that require the Adjuster to make judgment calls, rather than just look at the rule book for guidance. The tribunals are the arbitration mechanism.”
Masozi couldn’t exactly argue with the efficacy of that particular filtration mechanism. If an Adjuster displayed questionable or overtly poor judgment while performing Infectus Adjustments, then she would probably be removed from the Timent Electorum long before ever coming into contact with Tyrannis Adjustments.
Then something occurred to her, and she set her jaw after wiping her body dry with the towel. “This isn’t just a test of whether or not we can kill these people,” she mused, “it’s of whether or not we can identify which of these Marks requires action. I’m guessing one or more of these will be a trick—one we’re not supposed to execute—and if we don’t spot it then we’ll fail their little ‘test’.”
“That does seem to fit,” Eve said after a moment’s consideration. “Wanna transfer me to the bedside screen and go over the rest of the protocols?”
Masozi wrapped a plain, surprisingly comfortable bathrobe around her body and curled up on her bunk. “Yes,” she agreed, transferring the com-link’s feed to her bedside console before deciding it was time to talk about another serious matter, “but first I think we need to go over your regular maintenance.”
Eve actually looked sheepish for a moment. “I was, uh, wondering when we’d talk about that.”
“I’ve been avoiding it,” Masozi sighed, “but it’s only because I’m still uncomfortable with the notion that I can do a job that Benton had trouble doing. I have zero experience at this kind of thing, Eve.”
“Aww, shucks,” Eve said, waving her hands dismissively, “as Big Daddy Wladdy woulda said: ‘ain’t no thang, sugar cookie!’ The trouble he had was with keeping my E.E.V. in a stable orbit; my program’s simple enough that even a kid could help with the maintenance rounds…but that might end up causing its own set of problems.”
Masozi felt her ears burn at being compared to a child, “I suppose that gives me a little more confidence.”
Eve’s hand went to her mouth in what looked like genuine surprise, but Masozi had no idea if Eve even had real emotions. It could all be an act for her benefit, as far as she knew, but her interactions with her—who Masozi had come to think of as a kind of digital pixie, or fairy—had nearly convinced her that Eve genuinely did experience something approaching human emotion. She wasn’t sure if she was more comforted or alarmed by that particular possibility.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, sis,” Eve gushed apologetically. “How ‘bout this: we’ll go over these files, you’ll catch some shut-eye, and we can do the maintenance in the morning?”
Masozi nodded, releasing a pent-up breath which took much of her anxiety with it. “That works,” she said thankfully, and they went to work.
Chapter VI: A Meeting of Minds
“This looks good, Shu,” Jericho nodded slowly after reviewing his operator’s suggested itinerary. “We should get there with enough time for a whole three days per Adjustment.”
“I’m sorry, Jericho—” she began, but Jericho held up a hand.
“It will be enough,” he assured her, realizing how she might have thought his irritation was directed at her. “I’m more concerned with keeping you out of harm’s way once we get there.”
“Worried about me, old man?” she asked with a devious grin. “I’m flattered.”
Jericho chuckled, “I know you’re more than able to take care of yourself, Shu. You did better than most Adjusters of your station by getting to Far Point in one piece.”
“My station?” she repeated bitterly. “I’ve only got two thousand RL, Jericho; I’m a fly on the wall compared to you.”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” he said, knowing that most skilled operators were like Shu. Many people had the desire to execute Adjustments for the betterment of the Sector, and some even had the courage to do it. Fewer still had skills which would enable them to carry out such acts, and it was a rare person indeed who moved past Shu’s rank. Most Adjusters ran up against limitations—physical ones, like in Baxter’s case, or psychological ones, like with Shu—and when they did it usually resulted in their being killed while carrying out the people’s will on an Adjustment.
Jericho had learned many years earlier that the best operators were Adjusters who had, some would say, washed out but still had the desire and skillset to contribute in a meaningful fashion. And the fact that he and Shu shared a measure of history—including her surprisingly successful attempt to track him down several years after their first and, to the point, only meeting—was not a point to which Jericho was immune. He had initially discouraged her from becoming an Adjuster, but she was headstrong and capable—a dangerous combination.
“Still,” Shu said bitterly before a hint of admiration entered her voice, “that Masozi looks like a handful.”
“She has her skillset, just like you have yours,” Jericho said with genuine feeling. “But people like Masozi and I could literally not do what we do without people like you working behind the curtain. I’m going to be counting on you when we get to Virgin, Shu,” he said, probing her features for signs of her emotional state. It wasn’t always easy for Jericho to tell when someone was lying, but it was fairly simple to determine if they were hiding something—where he was going, he needed no room for doubt regarding Shu’s commitment.
Shu nodded, and Jericho saw no trace of duplicity in her affect so he relaxed into his chair and steepled
his fingers contemplatively. “I won’t let you down, Jericho,” she said solemnly. “I wouldn’t be here today if—“
He waved a hand through the air and interrupted, “Let’s get to work.”
Shu shook herself and nodded, “Ok.”
“Ok,” Masozi said after entering the high-security locker where Eve’s hardware had been placed, “what do I do now?” The air was incredibly chilly, and Masozi briefly considered going back to her quarters for an extra layer of clothes.
Eve’s digital face appeared on a nearby monitor, “Sorry about the chill, girlfriend. But you never know when I’ll need to max out my processors; gotta keep cool under pressure, know what I mean?”
“I suppose so,” Masozi nodded as she moved toward the lone console in the room. There were several stacks of what looked like processor nodes on either side of the room, which was no more than ten feet across and half again as deep. She had no real concept of how much processing power was inside the room, but she suspected it was considerable.
At the far end of the room was a heavy workbench, on which sat Eve’s core unit: a foot-long cylinder of metal which Masozi had taken from the room and installed in the Neil deGrasse Tyson several times already. It contained Eve’s personality matrix, along with her personal memories so, in essence, it contained ‘her.’
“Take a seat,” Eve gestured to the chair before the bench which housed her ‘fiddly bits,’ as she called them, and Masozi complied.
“So…how do we do this?” Masozi asked, for the first time feeling a pang of regret at having accepted this strangely humbling responsibility.
“Easy as pie,” Eve assured her as lights flickered to life across the bench. “I haven’t been running too many computations lately, so we should be able to go over all of my questionable areas in just a couple hours.”
Sic Semper Tyrannis: The Chimera Adjustment, Book Two (Imperium Cicernus 5) Page 9