Ma blinked at Ziva for a moment. “Thank you. While I agree that it is preferable that I make my own discoveries, in light of the extreme circumstances Lex, Karter, and I so frequently face, it would be imprudent to turn down the offer of any potentially valuable information.”
Ziva stood and clicked open an access panel on Ma’s harness. She inserted the chip in a port within and shut it securely.
“While we are on the topic of your enhancements and observations, I wonder if you could share some information with me.”
“Certainly.”
“I have inquired after the subject of love on a great many occasions, as you know. Thus far I have met no one who can provide a detailed description of the nature of that emotion. You’d earlier indicated you have not attained a perfect understanding of the emotion, but your understanding still greatly exceeds mine. Can you offer your insight?”
Ziva smiled knowingly. “It is a remarkable thing, Ma. Emotion… How best to put it to words? Emotion in general, and love in particular, is a metaphorical labyrinth. To those on the outside, those viewing from above, at times a situation can appear complex but solvable. The same is not true for an individual within. Matters appear complex, muddled. With persistence, many find their way through to the other side. Many more find themselves hopelessly lost. You, in your current state of very well-simulated but not fully genuine emotion, likely have a better chance of understanding its intricacies than I do. Once you are inside, you lose the perspective. I believe that is why they are called feelings. They are not to be understood, they are to be felt, experienced.”
“Fascinating. How is it possible that you were able to take the step from simulated emotion to genuine emotion, and have uninterrupted observation throughout, but were not able to gain an intuitive understanding?”
Her smile grew. “The same way a frog can be boiled without ever realizing it. If a thing happens slowly enough, the change is imperceptible. If you haven’t noticed the change, then you’ve missed something as well, because I can assure you some of what I feel you’ve felt already.”
“Fascinating… I shall endeavor to increase my monitoring of such matters.”
Ziva and Ma turned their attention to the display. A pair of funks trotted up, one hopping on Ziva’s lap, the other joining Ma on the seat and nuzzling up to her.
“I’ve noticed significant disparity in the funks who express a social interest in me during this visit. Despite what appears to a broadly equal split in gender, I am almost exclusively engaged by the males. It is becoming clear their motivations are not strictly social,” she said, edging stiffly away from a potential suitor.
“They’ll behave themselves,” Ziva said, stroking her pet. “It must be satisfying. And therapeutic.”
“What?”
“To be so comparatively simple. Though quite intellectually capable, funks are motivated by very basic impulses. They can think more deeply, but they do not. Excess computational bandwidth, and its utilization, seem to be a source of considerable complication, both psychologically and socially. Creatures strive for methods to render their goals more easily achieved, and then find themselves with the time and resources to think. Those thoughts can be fruitful, certainly. But too often they become circular, or begin to point inward. Axiomatically it has been said that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Many of the creations that resulted from Karter’s boredom are among the most potentially destructive. But the axiom has a still more figurative truth, as self-reflection without the addition of exterior observation can produce complex and flawed analysis, and that analysis will perpetually feed back on to itself unless interrupted. This, I believe, explains the behavior we see here.” Ziva indicated the footage of Lex. “Controlling a vehicle at such speeds. What we know of human reaction time, sensory processing capabilities, and other associated aspects of the act would suggest that maintaining control in such conditions requires all of the resources available to the pilot. One hundred percent utilization. No room for doubt or confusion. No room for fear or anxiety. An interruption to all previously existing computational threads. And when it is complete, a rare opportunity to begin with a clean context. In many ways it produces, via an opposite methodology, the same result as meditation. The destruction of conscious thought. Stillness. Clarity.”
“Interesting. I have observed when my resources are most constrained I find myself more readily fulfilled and satisfied by my achievements,” Ma said. “However, I would advise against further consideration of this topic.”
“Why?”
“Devoting processor cycles to the analysis of how processor cycles are being devoted has the capacity to produce a logical loop, which is best avoided.”
Ziva laughed. “Thinking about thinking. Precisely the activity I suggested was problematic. Small wonder philosophy is so frequently a source of strife.”
Each sat silently for a moment. The funk beside Ma gave her ear a nibble. She turned and gave him a withering look in return. After a moment, the male edged backward and fell clumsily off the chair. He slinked away sheepishly. She turned back to Ziva.
“Earlier it was indicated you had a forgotten exchange with Lex. What was the subject of that exchange?” she asked.
“The details would cause social friction. They are contained on the provided chip if you are curious, but I would recommend you avoid them until after the completion of the mission.”
“I shall take the recommendation into advisement.”
“I should…” Ziva began.
She was interrupted when the lighting in the room took on a sudden red tint and an audio alarm sounded.
“Something is happening,” she said.
Ziva issued an iris command, and a secondary display layered atop the view of Lex. It revealed a three-dimensional star map. Several large regions were blinking yellow.
“Several significant shifts in the GenMech signatures have been detected,” Ziva said. “The sequence and alignment suggests the disturbances are being caused by a poorly shielded vessel heading in this direction.”
“Is it possible the shifts are lingering results of our own journey here?”
“Negative. I would have detected it prior to your arrival. Processing… Without real-time communication, the quantum signature of the GenMechs is the only non-light-limited reading I have access to. It does not offer sufficient fidelity to make an accurate estimated time of arrival, but the range is between thirty and eighty hours, assuming it is indeed an approaching ship as I’ve theorized.”
“How often do you receive alerts of this type?”
“This is the first since I developed the algorithm five years ago.”
“In that case, the timing so close to our arrival suggests this is not a coincidence. We have been followed or are being tracked.”
“Agreed. We should make preparations.”
“We should summon Lex,” Ma added.
“No. Let him complete his therapy. If things are going to become trying again, it is best he receive the full benefit of this rare respite.”
“A wise assessment. What is the current status of Big Sigma’s arsenal?”
Ziva smiled. “Significant.”
#
Three hours later, Lex had finally had enough of his new toy. As he rode it back toward the front of the laboratory, his muscles grumbled and groaned with the glorious bone-deep exhaustion that comes from letting one’s mind decide when the fun should end, rather than his body. He guided the quad into the entryway and, after a moment of investigation, figured out how to fold it again.
“Ma, Ziva, Coal?” he called out.
He buzzed himself through the inner door and popped off the helmet of his protective suit. He was greeted at the door by a dozen or so funks, who immediately made a concerted effort to knock him to the ground with the sheer force of their adorable affection.
“Anybody there? You’ve got yourself one hell of a recreational vehicle in this,” he said, patting and scratching the excited c
reatures with his gloved hands.
“You did appear to be having a lot of fun,” said a voice over the PA system. “As evidenced at least in part by your lack of death.”
“Coal, that you?” he asked.
“Yes. Thanks for recognizing me,” she said.
“You’ve got a few tells,” he said. “Where are the other two?”
“In the situation room,” she said.
“The lab has a situation room?”
“Evidently.”
“… And we have a situation?”
“We do.”
“What kind of situation.”
“They’re trying to figure that out and plan for it. This, I believe, is the purpose of all situation rooms.”
“Anything I should be worried about?”
“Probably,” Coal said.
“I guess I’ll go get washed up and find out what sort of fire I’ve been dumped into now.”
“Ma and Ziva suggested that driving in circles served to sooth your frazzled nerves. Is that true?”
Lex narrowed his eyes. “First off, I wasn’t just ‘driving in circles.’ That was… I think that was called motocross or something. Anyway. That’s a real-deal sport they used to have. Probably they still do.”
“It seems unlikely that antiquated sports using obsolete vehicles survived the destruction of civilization.”
“I don’t mean they still do it now. I mean in the present.”
“This is the present, Lex.”
“My present, I mean. This is the future.”
“This is your present, Lex. As I understand it, human beings are incapable of existing anywhere but the present.”
“I was being figurative again, Coal.”
“I see. What is the purpose of figurative speech?”
“It is faster.”
“If this conversation is any indication, figurative speech introduces significant delay to communication in order to clarify literal interpretation.”
“Most people I talk to are a little better versed in this sort of thing than you.”
“If speaking in short, literal sentences is always clear, and speaking in metaphor is occasionally unclear, then why would you ever use figurative speech?”
“Clarity isn’t the only aim of speech, Coal. Sometimes it’s nice to be a little colorful.”
“Sound cannot be colorful, Lex.”
“Oh, now you’re just screwing with me. Colorful is a legitimate adjective for speech.”
“I know. It was a joke.”
“Oh… Well done, then.”
“That just goes to show how confusing unexpected uses of language can be.”
“True enough.”
“Back to the original question. Were you driving in circles to treat your declining mental state?”
“… Yeah, pretty much.”
“I wonder if that would work for me.”
“Are you having mental health issues? I mean, besides your repeated attempts to blow us all up?”
“No, but it can always be better. Perhaps I should go on a little flight to improve my mental state.”
“Fine with me, but you should probably ask Ma and Ziva.”
“Why?”
“Because they’d know better than me what you can and can’t handle right now.”
“And I would know better than them, as I am the one doing the handling.”
“Yeah, but still—”
“I’m doing it.”
He heard a crackle across the PA system and the distant rumble of opening bay doors.
Lex sighed. “A self-aware ship with a fusion device and a killer robot on board going for an unsupervised joyride. That’s sure to end well. ”
#
Lex paced into the “situation room.” It was not has he’d pictured it. The phrase conjured to mind a huge, sprawling room with wall-sized displays. Perhaps a massive conference table with a map covered with little tanks, soldiers, and flags, and a variety of brightly colored wall-mounted hotlines to various global capitals. This room was, like so many other parts of the lab under Ziva’s guidance, cozy. The walls were a warm orange color. Comfortable chairs wrapped in dark fabric were scattered in small clusters near the center of the space, which was a bit larger than the cafeteria. Light was provided by tastefully artistic hanging fixtures at regular intervals. All in all, it looked more like the room in a laid-back office where they would push the chairs aside and throw the annual holiday party than a place where disasters would be assessed and handled.
Ziva was seated in one of the chairs, a datapad balanced on her legs. Ma was standing on the seat of a second chair, a wire running from her harness to a second datapad. Both pads had a small but noticeable flickering light, no doubt yet another instance of the light-based communication protocol that had replaced radio.
“Welcome, Lex. I trust the design was suitably enjoyable?” said Ziva.
“It was a blast. I wish I had one.”
“You may keep that one if you wish. In anticipation of that response, I took the liberty of fabricating a replacement.”
“Isn’t there going to be a problem with me bringing back future tech?”
“Only if you leave it or reveal evidence of it in an era preceding your own. The underlying technology is not far removed from that available in 2332. And furthermore, changes moving forward from your departure point are of no concern to you.”
“Is there going to be room for it?”
“I believe it will fit inside your case,” Ziva said.
“There wasn’t really room for the case in the cockpit with me.”
“There is now. During the repairs, I was able to replace several internal components with smaller more modern ones. The change is small but should facilitate internal storage of the case without discomfort.”
“Leg room. Wow. That’s an unexpected bonus to this little detour. Excellent, I’ll definitely bring it along then.”
“I believe we should inform Lex of the developments that occurred during his ride,” Ma said.
“Before you do, are you two aware that Coal is sort of on a walkabout?”
“Yes. She informed us that she felt what was useful for you would be useful for her. She also felt compelled to inform us that she did not ‘require’ our permission ‘thank you very much,’” Ziva said.
“I believe you have been a poor influence on her, Lex,” Ma added.
“I wasn’t anticipating having to be a positive role model for an AI undergoing robo-puberty, Ma. I’ll try to be a bit more of an upright citizen in the future.”
“That would be most desirable. Thank you, Lex,” Ma said. “Now please, have a seat. There are matters that require discussion.”
“Yes, please be seated. I am about to begin a demonstration,” Ziva said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stand. The muscles are feeling really good after that ride. I kind of want to keep them warm for a while.”
“Very well,” Ziva said. “Beginning the presentation.”
A subtle hiss of white noise rolled quietly about the room, and Lex scrunched up his brow as the walls around him wavered and flickered.
“What kind of presentation are we about to experience?”
“Multimedia,” Ziva said.
She tapped the datapad on her lap and suddenly the floor shot out from beneath them. Lex stumbled back and fell into his chair as the different floors of the facility flicked by him and then, moving at blinding speed, the landscape appeared around them and dropped away. Pieces of debris whipped by him as they ascended through the cloud. In two seconds they went from standing in the cozy little situation room to floating at the fringe of the atmosphere.
It wasn’t until their motion stabilized—though they still suffered from constant illusory chunks of metal and polymer twirling by them and passing through them, that his brain was able to speak up and point out that he’d not felt any real motion. He’d merely heard the sounds and seen the sights. It was holographic. Very, very
detailed and infinitely more immersive than any he’d experienced before, but still just a hologram. Ma, Ziva, and their chairs were hanging in the air beside him. Each was completely undisturbed.
“Holy… jeez, Ziva. You could have warned me.”
“My apologies, Lex,” she said, covering her mouth to suppress a giggle.
“She did suggest you be seated and informed you of a forthcoming multimedia presentation.”
“Yeah, I was expecting slides and narration, not full-on virtual reality.”
“Noted,” Ziva said. “Shall I continue with the presentation?”
“Yeah, okay,” Lex said. He paused. “Our hair is blowing in the wind.”
“Yes,” Ziva said. She brushed her bangs out of her face as the wind caught them. “I find some strategic usage of ventilation greatly enhances the illusion, though I realize at this altitude the air would be far too thin to produce such an effect. Now, as I was saying, below us is Big Sigma.”
Clouds of yellow appeared in the distance all around them.
“These are the sources of quantum signatures known to originate from GenMechs. Please direct your attention to this grouping.”
A small blob in the clouds shifted to orange instead of yellow.
“I shall shift to an angle better suited to illustrating our source of concern.”
Big Sigma dropped farther away, and they moved out into the blackness of deep space. The sensation of velocity, which had to have been many, many multiples the speed of light, became less pronounced as the reference points receded into the distance. The orange blobs elongated as their view shifted to above. They were drawing a somewhat staggered line directed at Big Sigma, which was indicated by a floating label.
“We have been monitoring the GenMech swarms indicated in orange. They have each made subtle but quantifiable movements toward this approximate course.”
A white line appeared, threading its way between the swarms. In some of the more distant sections of the line, it had been overlapped by the swarms. Ziva swiped at her pad and some words formed in front of them: Real-time-0. As she manipulated her pad, the number ticked downward into ever greater negatives. The swarms clearly moved away. Then she rolled the time forward again, animating it like a weather map until it ticked into estimated positives. The orange swarms converged on the line and began to slide toward Big Sigma.
Temporal Contingency Page 20