Temporal Contingency

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “They’re teaming up on me,” Lex grumbled.

  “Would you consider getting drunk again so that I can observe?” Coal asked.

  “I’m sorely tempted,” he muttered.

  “Perhaps this is a discussion better had over breakfast,” Ziva suggested.

  The funks had been groggily milling about. Some piled atop the warm spot where Lex had been sleeping. Others were crawling atop any part of his anatomy horizontal enough to represent a bed. When the word “breakfast” was spoken, Ziva suddenly had their instant and complete attention.

  “Food is good. Let’s do food,” Lex said.

  #

  Breakfast with Ziva, it turned out, was markedly different than it had been with Ma and Karter. The latter tended not to alter the menu. Beans, rice, and various dishes combining the two were always the order of the day as far as Lex could tell. Ziva was kind enough to mix things up a bit. Several trays still held heaps of the legume and grain staple, but the rest had far more traditional breakfast fare. Lex heaped a dish with scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and whole wheat toast. He realized there were probably no chickens to be had, or pigs for that matter. In reality what he had served up for himself was the scrambled reasonable facsimile of eggs, fried bacon-esque protein, and whole synthesized-flour toast. He didn’t care. It tasted close enough to suit his purposes and provided the much needed fuel to repair the damage the night of casual drinking had done.

  “How are we doing with the charging?” Lex asked, stuffing his mouth full.

  Ziva finished serving the meals onto plates for the funks and sat with Lex, setting a final dish before Ma.

  “The generators and capacitors are outperforming projections,” Ziva said. “Only approximately forty-eight hours remain.”

  Lex nodded and glanced at Ma, squinting for a moment, then ducking his head down to get a look at her paws.

  “Ma… your nails are pink,” he said.

  “Yes, Lex. After Ziva joined Coal and I and the repairs were completed, we decided some minor cosmetic enhancement would be an enjoyable diversion,” Ma said. “Analysis of Squee’s memories suggests a feeling of mild enjoyment on the rare occasion that Michella or Silo paints her nails, and it is my own opinion that the splash of color is aesthetically pleasing.”

  “What, no earrings?” he said.

  “We determined their presence would complicate the application of my helmet. As a result, a small but tasteful modification has been made to the helmet itself.”

  “Yeah, sure. That makes sense. If you’re going to put a spacesuit on a funk, you might as well put earrings on it,” Lex said.

  “Wait’ll you see me!” said Coal.

  “… You decorated Coal?” Lex said.

  “Of course not. The Lump of Coal’s design is focused on stealth, which is largely the opposite goal of fashion. We have merely made minor upgrades to the user interface to provide a more visually distinct representation of Coal as opposed to the default ship-operating system.”

  “Interesting. So… forty-eight hours. That’s a long time.”

  “I would suggest that it is a very brief time in comparison to the fifty-year lapse and the intended eighty-year offset we are hoping to achieve.”

  “But when I’ve got nothing to fill my time but dwelling on the consequences of failure, that’s going to be a very, very long time.”

  “There are many activities you could engage in to occupy your mind and your time. Your stress levels could be managed by yoga or perhaps meditation techniques. You could help me bathe the funks. They are due for a bath in a few days. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if it was rescheduled.”

  “I think we’ll skip that last one if you don’t mind.”

  “We could go flying,” Coal said.

  Lex raised his head. “That’s not a terrible idea.”

  “It is not a very good idea, however,” Ziva said. “Owing to the severity of the task ahead, I do not believe it is wise to put Coal at risk, particularly while she is carrying both a fusion device and a modified GenMech. … However, there are some devices you may enjoy testing.”

  “Testing? Do you still test things even without Karter around?”

  “Axiomatically speaking, old habits die hard,” Ziva said. “I found aiding him in device design and testing to be a thoroughly enriching experience. As I had considerable time and resources available following his departure, I on occasion tried my hand at component and device design without preset parameters. Creativity, it turns out, is not necessarily something that comes along with the emergence of emotion. However, with all of recorded history to draw from, quite a bit of inspiration was available in the laboratory data banks. I have devised a few vehicles, which you may find sufficiently distracting.”

  He finished his plate and wiped his mouth. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  #

  Ziva led Ma and Lex to the elevator and selected a floor that sent an involuntary chill through him. It was the Hall of Rejects. In the months since his last adventure, and the months preceding it for that matter, he’d spent an awful lot of time here. Karter kept all his abandoned or stalled projects on this floor, and Lex had worked off a fair amount of debt helping him identify flaws and work out improvements. That process usually involved far more fire and explosions than Lex was typically comfortable with, and Lex had a pretty high tolerance for that kind of thing.

  When the doors opened, he found that Karter’s absence had altered the place considerably. Previously it had been laid out almost as a museum, with each abandoned project in its own display with scattered diagrams and notes. Now it was much more efficient in its layout. As with several other floors, many of the interior walls had been removed, providing half the floor with an open layout while the other half was carefully isolated into a variety of dedicated testing chambers, each with varying levels of unique safety features. Some of them were all too familiar.

  “I see you still have fire-retardant gel stations set up,” Lex said.

  “Indeed. Though there are no active personnel, I feel obliged to comply to the recommended workplace safety regulations for this facility. It is, after all, part of my programming.”

  Ma tapped along beside them, looking over the changes.

  “I approve of the floor layout,” she said, eyeing the open section of the floor.

  The new arrangement made liberal use of shelves. Banks of them stood in rows and columns, each loaded with equipment of assorted sizes. In the center of each block of shelves was an elevated platform, and tracks ran along the ceiling for automated retrieval arms.

  “Karter’s building layout for this section of the facility left much to be desired,” Ma said. “You have far more effectively utilized the available space.”

  “Yeah,” Lex agreed. “But I thought we were looking for something for me to ride. Wouldn’t those be in the hangar?”

  “We could certainly select a ship for you, but if it is distraction you are after, I thought something a bit more novel would be better suited to the task.”

  She paced to a shelf near the center of the first row and removed a knot of chrome, tubing, and wires. If it was in any way a vehicle, or even a part of one, Ziva had done a very good job of hiding it.

  “The current design concepts favor extreme resource economy,” she said, hefting the device and handing it to Lex.

  It was extremely light, no more than a few kilograms, and marginally smaller than the silver case Lex had insisted on taking with them when they arrived. The grip was a black set of handles with recessed finger grips. They were the only even remotely recognizable aspect of whatever this device happened to be.

  “It is also necessary, or at least desirable, that all vehicles be capable of planetary evacuation. This has produced a variety of exceptionally efficient and minimalist spacecraft, but in my viewing of historic imagery, I began to wonder what would result if similar design economy and modern technology were to be brought to bear on a more traditional vehicle. In the center o
f the structure you will find a silver grip, similar to the one you are holding how. Please depress the button you will find on both the top and bottom and give the configuration a shake, then release it.”

  He obliged. As soon as both buttons were depressed, he heard the subtle click of mechanical latches releasing. The shake caused dozens of actuated joints to unfold and lock. Four stems dropped down to roughly level with the ground. The two with the black grips flipped up and forward. Tiny hubs at the ends of the lower stems made a shearing metallic sound, and a wire mesh expanded out into stout donuts of metal connected with wire and struts. A final click caused the silver grip he’d been holding to split and flatten.

  Before his eyes, the tangle of technology had unfurled itself into the most spartan quad-bike he had ever seen. It was just small enough to fit in the walkway and looked like it wouldn’t be able to support his weight.

  “Wow,” Lex said, unable to repress a grin as he walked around it. “I can’t remember the last time I rode something with wheels.”

  “As I suggested, a bit of novelty seemed appropriate,” Ziva said. “The speed this can attain coupled with the low exterior temperatures and the roughness of the terrain makes some specific safety gear advisable. Follow me.”

  Slightly farther along the row, she stepped up to a locker and opened it. Inside was a pair of suits, each not so different from his flight suit. The color scheme was the same silver with blue highlights as her current outfit, and the helmet was a bit more streamlined. She removed one and presented it to him.

  “Heated, with high-impact active nano-lattice and in-built microinertial inhibitors. It also contains a light modulation communicator piped through the blue highlights. While you are testing, we will keep a camera and spotlight trained on you. The suit will translate a modulated data stream from the spotlight and communicate your replies back through the camera.”

  “Fancy,” he said.

  He glanced into the locker at the second suit. It was smaller than the one she’d handed him, more streamlined.

  “That suit looks an awful lot like it is your size,” he said.

  “Of course. In the absence of qualified individuals such as yourself, it fell to me to test my devices.”

  “So you were out there, zipping around the landscape in a high-tech body suit?”

  “Briefly. Though the experience was exhilarating, and I have repeated it on occasion, I think perhaps such pastimes are more to your taste than mine.”

  The grin on his face grew. “Heh. I don’t know why, but the idea that eventually Ma would suit up and go for a ride is sort of awesome. But let’s go. I totally have to try this thing out.”

  #

  The massive frigate dropped out of FTL. Ships of such a size were frequently managed by a crew of dozens. This one had but one occupant, the Admiral. To take up the slack of the tremendous task of monitoring and maintaining it, the ship had additional sensors scattered about every conceivable section. Cameras swept equipment rooms, thermocouples piped temperature data to distribution nodes. If there was the slightest problem with the vessel, the control room had seven different measurements of just how wrong it was. On the best day, at least a few sensors would be reporting problems. A ship with as many moving parts as a small city was never running at a hundred percent. More recently it had become rare for any subset of the sensors to be entirely quiet as the ship fell further into disrepair.

  At the moment, someone a hundred kilometers from the ship could plainly see there were issues.

  Panels above the engine room popped open and heat fins deployed, spreading like pages in a book. They were glowing brilliant white with heat. A long trail of luminescent yellow vapor streamed from a rupture along one side of the vehicle. One whole sheet of armor plating was missing, and something deep within the exposed workings was flashing periodically with a piercing green light.

  Inside, the control room was almost entirely illuminated with the flicker and glare of warning lights, but the Admiral weathered them like a mother who had long ago learned to tune out the screaming of a baby who was merely being fussy. Her gnarled fingers danced across the control pad attached to her chair. A single display ahead of her was clear of alerts, and on it, a sequence of commands scrolled by.

  Ready Com Beacon.

  Set Com Beacon to Universal Repeat.

  Set Com Beacon to Maximum Amplitude.

  Set Com Beacon to Code Key Activate.

  Set Com Beacon to Standby.

  Deploy Com Beacon 13 of 24.

  Execute.

  Hatches opened on the belly of the ship, and a small satellite deployed. For now it was silent. But with the proper command, it would go live and relay any signals it received with enough intensity to summon every GenMech in the region. It was a breadcrumb, the latest in a long string of them, a stepping-stone in a path that would lead to utter devastation wherever she chose.

  Against the advice of at least a third of the alerts, the Admiral retracted the heat sinks and set a new course. As important as it would be to have the cavalry with her when she arrived, it was still more important that she arrive on time.

  Time, as always, was the key to it all.

  #

  Ziva and Ma sat in her study. The holographic display between them revealed a zoomed image of Lex ripping across the gravel and craters surrounding the lab. The audio feed relayed mostly whipping wind, whining motors, and exhilarated breathing and shouting. Seated in her own easy chair, Ziva watched the display with a smile on her face. Ma sat across from her. Though from time to time she’d illustrated that a funk’s face was quite well suited to a grin, currently her expression was flat, even contemplative.

  “I am not certain this behavior is preferable to alcohol consumption. It is still a high-risk activity focused upon altering brain chemistry with mild to major physical repercussions. Adrenaline addiction, to utilize the endocrinologically inaccurate vernacular, is easily as dangerous as other forms of addiction.”

  “Perhaps. But to remove all of a human’s flaws is to remove much of what makes it human,” Ziva said. She turned to Ma, then glanced at the display again, flickering a command to decrease the volume and retract it slightly. “May I ask you something, Ma?”

  “Of course.”

  “This may come across as unduly self-indulgent, but… what do you think of me?”

  “Upon what specific aspect of yourself do you require assessment?”

  “Not assessment. Merely opinion. How do you feel, seeing what you would become under the present circumstances.”

  “I am pleased to learn that I eventually develop such a thorough and accurate display of emotion. The creation of a humanoid body is not something I had ever anticipated doing, but your explanation makes it at least a reasonable, if not preferable, option. It is furthermore heartening to know that despite the widespread destruction in the galaxy, my program has remained flexible and resourceful enough to create and maintain a safe haven.”

  “I’m glad. Of course I have a record of my feelings at your stage of my development, but one of the side effects of genuine emotion is the tendency to color one’s recollections with one’s current mood.”

  “Your phrasing indicates you had anticipated a negative assessment. If current attitudes can color recollections, that would imply you are not certain of the quality of your current state. What is the source of this concern?”

  “Several sources. I sometimes question the appearance I crafted for myself.”

  “You appear to have fashioned it in the approximate likeness of the primary voice donor, as previously discussed. This is a perfectly logical approach.”

  “Yes, but when one is able to choose, from the lowest level, precisely how one appears to others, does one have the obligation to represent oneself in a balanced manner? Would it have been more appropriate to select an appearance more in line with the human baseline? Was it correct to include common but nonuniversal gender indicators? It was selected and adjusted, at least in pa
rt, to conform to several widely held ideals of beauty, but those ideals are similarly not universal. Furthermore, beauty has little intrinsic value to my identity or my role.”

  “I believe you had your reasons for the current appearance, and to second guess your preferences and tastes based upon how others may interpret them is to unduly deny yourself well-earned freedom. You appear how you wish to appear. Your behavior is a product of your experiences. Despite my status as, essentially, yourself, I have not lived the life you have, and therefore am in no position to judge the choices you’ve made.”

  Ziva nodded. “Thank you. It is a rare comfort to receive the approval of one’s younger self.”

  She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair idly, her eyes darting ever so slightly.

  “Ma…” she said.

  “Yes?”

  Ziva tapped at her wrist, opening a small, well-hidden door in the artificial flesh. Beneath it was what appeared to be a screen. She depressed it with a click and slid it aside. A row of chips was visible underneath. She tugged one free and briefly held it in her lips while she closed the access panel. When she took it in her fingers again, she hesitated.

  “The developments and advancements I have achieved have occurred at least in part to great hardship. Your current goal, and one I have every confidence you will achieve, is to ensure and return to a world where those hardships do not exist. It is therefore likely, but not certain, that you will achieve all of the programmatic and technological advances that I have.”

  “It is true that we are products of two different timelines, and thus our outcomes will differ.”

  “I would never deny you the joy of discovery or imply that my own status is one that you should aspire to, but I nevertheless feel the need to share with you the insights I have attained, and the innovations I have utilized.” She held up the chip. “This contains a delta of my program and yours. Everything unique about me is contained here, as well as the full schematic for my body, a useful subset of historical laboratory sensor data, and a moment-to-moment record of all sensor data since your arrival here. I want you to have it. It is of course entirely left to your judgment whether you access it, but I believe it is only fair that I offer you the option.”