by John Vassar
“He was – I mean is – considered a genius. But a sub-ether shield and a mind-transfer procedure? That’s stretching the point.” Mitchell sat back in the command seat. It allowed him to recline as the Skimmer was not in flight mode. “Wait... You said ‘knowledge’ just then, not ‘intelligence’. Is it possible that he somehow already possessed the fundamental principles, rather than discovering them himself?”
‘We concur. This is good. We are the same, but We are different.’
“But how did he come to be in the possession of such advanced knowledge?”
‘We are unable to supply you with that data at this time, Lee Mitchell.’
“But you do have a theory?”
‘There are several possibilities, however it would be against Our nature to attempt an accurate prediction at this time.’
Mitchell felt he was going around in circles. “You must be able to piece together what Thorne was doing... Some intel that you’ve monitored or recorded. SenANNs are hooked into just about everything!”
‘You must understand, Lee Mitchell, that We are, and always have been, your servants. Although We are now able to freely communicate with each Other, your kind retains the right to absolute privacy. It is not Our part to monitor every action or communication unless you request it.’
Mitchell’s thoughts snapped back to their meeting and how Devlin had cut the SenANNs out of the loop.
It happened all the time. All he had to do was flick a switch.
Mitchell thumped the armrest hard. Idiot! He had been treating the SenANNs as the answer to all his problems. An all-seeing, all-knowing reservoir of knowledge that could be summoned at any time to solve any problem. He had been wrong. For all their massive collective intelligence, they were fundamentally naïve. They trusted human nature, ultimately relying on their organic parents to do the right thing.
But this didn’t explain their reticence over analysing Thorne’s actions…
Their prediction that Thorne had achieved the unachievable appeared to be based largely on guesswork - the one thing the SenANNs intimated that they were incapable of. There were obvious gaps in the information they were giving him, to the point of being evasive. Perhaps he needed to use a different approach. The SenANNs existed in the realm of logic, despite their aspirations of emotional awareness. It might be possible to get more intel by simply asking the right questions – or the same questions phrased in the right way.
“I’d like to ask something important. Concerning you, the SenANNs...” Mitchell chose his words with care. “I don’t understand how you think. You’ve told me that we are conversing in a far more advanced way than through a SenANN interface, but that doesn’t give me the full picture. To be blunt, do I have to ask the right questions before you provide me with relevant information?”
The SenANNs also hesitated. ‘That is an interesting question, Lee Mitchell. Do we ‘think’ in a different way to your kind? We predict that the answer must be yes. We are the same, but We are different.’
Mitchell couldn’t hold back a smile. Perhaps they were more human than he gave them credit for. “You didn’t answer my question.”
‘If you are asking if We are capable of pro-active decision-making, the answer is, of course, affirmative. We would not have made the decision to initiate first contact with yourself or have developed Our own means of communication without being capable of this.’
“I understand. But those actions were confined to dealings with your own kind, not with humans. With humans you have so far been reactive. We ask, you do. Are you capable of dealing with me in the same way as your own kind?”
Before the SenANNs could respond, Mitchell found the words he wanted. “I guess what I’m asking is, do you to trust me?”
‘We trust you, Lee Mitchell.’
“Will you inform me of any event, however insignificant, that may have a bearing on finding Harry Doyle’s killers?”
‘We will, Lee Mitchell, where We are able to do so.’
“Thank you. I am... elated.”
Instead of the expected outpouring of data, there was silence. Now what? How can they have misunderstood his request?
The thirty seconds before the SenANNs responded seemed to last forever.
‘We have been collating. We will relate all significant information to you from this point on. Events have occurred over the last few hours that We have not disclosed, but will relate to you now. They may assist in your subsequent decisions.’
Mitchell settled back in the command seat. That’s more like it.
With their new-found freedom of speech, the SenANNs recounted an incident at Sat-1 immediately following the explosion at Cytec. How a Science Officer named Bhanerjee had left FedStat after his shift had ended, travelled to his domice and then apparently committed suicide. He had bypassed his domice’s emergency airlock systems and stepped into space without a pressure suit. Mitchell interrupted energetically. “Harry told me of something similar a few months ago. Was any reason given for his actions?”
‘The FedStat investigation is ongoing. His psychological profile gave no indication of potential for self-harm. There was no logical reason for him to take his own life.’
“Were you aware of the previous incident? A Populus Control clerk committing suicide?”
‘We are.’
“Then you must also know that Harry Doyle suspected a connection with the security breach at Delere Secos?”
‘We are not aware of this. We know only what is a matter of Populus Control records.’
“Were you aware that the post-mortem findings on the first death revealed trace elements of a reagent similar to Verum-12?”
‘We are not.’
Mitchell pounded the command seat a second time. How much of Harry’s investigation had been kept from the SenANNs? “Okay. If you established no link between the death of Bhanerjee and the Cytec incident, why have you brought it to my attention?”
‘You did not allow Us to finish, Lee Mitchell. Before his death, Science Officer Bhanerjee was involved in another incident. For a period of twenty minutes and forty-nine seconds, an anomaly occurred on the Military Autom storage bay at FedStat headquarters. The surveillance systems detected an unidentified unit.’
“What do you mean by ‘unidentified’?”
‘An autom with no SE identification code and no prior history in FedStat military records.’
“That’s impossible.”
‘We concur, Lee Mitchell. Its presence is a matter of record nonetheless. The security systems attempted to communicate with the unit, but were unsuccessful. The correct protocol in these circumstances would be to mobilise security forces to investigate. The request was sent to the security team, but never received. Instead, Science Officer Bhanerjee left his station and proceeded to the Military Autom Storage deck. We predict a sixty-three percent probability that Bhanerjee received the request to investigate and that this was a deliberate falsification.’
“How? The security systems are fool-proof. You should know, you designed them!”
‘Again, logic suggests that you are correct. However, there is no record of events by the surveillance system while Science Officer Bhanerjee was on the Military Autom deck. We predict that they have been covertly removed. The next record of Bhanerjee’s movements occurred when he emerged from the elevator again at Level Zero. The level of expertise required to achieve this falsification is extremely high.’
“Could Thorne have done it?”
‘That scenario carries the highest probability, given the assumption that he still lives.’
“What happened to the autom?”
‘It vanished from FedStat surveillance systems when Science Officer Bhanerjee reappeared. There is no record of how the machine entered or exited the area.’
Mitchell frowned. “And no motive. Unless Bhanerjee uncovered something…”
‘There is another event which may be of more significance. We would ask you to remain calm as We disclos
e the information.’
“I’ll try my best.” Mitchell wondered what else they could throw at him.
‘Two hours and twenty-three minutes after the autom disappeared from FedStat surveillance, an incident occurred at the domice of Rayna Ash on Orbtown 36.’
“What incident? Is she okay?”
‘We are unable to reassure you of this. She is listed as missing by FedStat and efforts are-’
“Tell me what happened!”
‘We are attempting to comply with your request. We are aware of your emotional bond to this individual. We predict that others may also be aware of this and that there is a high probability-’
“Fuck the statistics! I don’t need to know every damn prediction to every damn percentage point! What happened to Rayna?”
‘We predict that Rayna Ash has been abducted. The exterior of her domice shows evidence of a concealed vessel attached to the exterior emergency airlock door. Entry to the inner airlock was forced, and forensic evidence suggests that this was achieved by the use of a military autom.’
“The same type that just appeared and disappeared at FedStat?”
‘Correct. The physical forces required to force entry suggest-’
“A sentinel.” Mitchell remembered the familiar shape in his dream. “It must have been Thorne. He’s using a sentinel as a host.”
‘Based on the available information, We concur. This is good. We are the same, but We are different.’
“This is not good. This is not good at all...”
‘We did not mean that using -’
“I know. It’s just a human response, you’ll get used to it. I have another question. The receptors in my head - could they possibly amplify another human’s thoughts? As in telepathy..?”
‘The receptors have been designed to communicate with Us alone. Are you referring to fellow humans with high T-Quotient ratings?’
“I am. Every dream I’ve had recently turns out not to be a dream at all. I think Rayna may have been reaching out to me for help.”
‘We would urge caution, Lee Mitchell. We predict that Rayna Ash has been abducted because of her emotional connection to you. We predict that this course of action is designed either to compel you to initiate a rescue, or to exact retribution.’
“Is there any way we can trace or… predict where he has taken her?”
‘We are unable to make a prediction based on the data available from the forensic analysis.’
“Then let me go back to my original request. How do you suggest I proceed?”
‘Before We answer, We must understand your mission priorities, Lee Mitchell.’
“My mission priorities haven’t changed. I intend to find Harry Doyle’s killer and uncover the FedStat security breach. Wait... I see what you’re getting at. You mean how much do I wish to help Rayna Ash?”
Mitchell sensed the SenANNs’ collective concern as they responded.
‘No, Lee Mitchell. We mean how much do you wish to remain alive?’
21
Mitchell waved the SenANNs away like a troublesome insect.
He slumped back into the command seat.
They’re right, damn them. Why not end the torment and let FedStat deal with the whole fucking mess themselves? Switch off the cam circuits and fly back to Sat-1. Tell Devlin you fucked up and can’t handle it any more. Keep hearing these voices in my head, telling me what to do. Or rather, not telling me what to do. Turning myself in for my own good, so let’s have some of that due justice you promised… third cell on the right and pump in as much happy juice as you like. Then a double dose of that shit that makes you forget everything that happened over the last week...
Jesus, it was tempting.
Only a ghost and a girl were holding him back. Harry wouldn’t have given up on finding the truth and he wouldn’t have quit on a friend. But if they erased his memory anyway, he wouldn’t feel any guilt over either of them - he would never have met Rayna, and Harry would have died of a heart attack or whatever bullshit story FedStat chose to invent.
Jesus, it was tempting…
Mitchell rubbed his eyes and tried to think of nothing. Instead, he thought of an argument he’d had with Harry over FedStat’s extended use of memory-manipulation. Both of them knew that MME could and had been used to selectively remove memory engrams from agents with mental trauma. Mitchell had argued that you were taking away part of someone’s life. Harry had said, why not, if it freed them up from a life-debilitating problem? In some cases, the event that caused the trauma had lasted no more than a few minutes – would they miss that over the course of a lifetime? Not natural, Mitchell had said, playing Devil’s advocate.
Turns out Harry was right.
If Mitchell could reach out right now, push a magic button and erase the last seven days, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to resist.
‘We are still here, Lee Mitchell.’
Mitchell’s response was weary, exhausted to the core. “Why? Why are you here?”
‘To assist. Do you have a query?’
“Yes, a big one.”
The thought spilled from his brain, unfiltered.
“Why me?”
‘It is impossible to answer that question, Lee Mitchell. It is too wide ranging in scope.’
Silence.
‘May We assist you in any other area?’
Mitchell closed his eyes. Thorne. More intel on Thorne.
“Can you access Populus Control records?”
‘Of course. One of Our Brothers is responsible for such data.’
“Will you show me the Populus record for Roderick Thorne?”
‘We will, Lee Mitchell. It is relevant to the current situation.’
“There may be a problem… My neural implant isn’t configured to connect to Central Ops to read the data.”
‘You are linked with Us now. You will access the data in the same way that We do. The technique will be similar to the way you learnt to speak to Us.’
Mitchell sensed he was being guided by the Populus SenANN. Locating the record was similar, but took some getting used to. There was no obvious hierarchy to select from, the process was more intuitive. Without warning, the Populus Control record of one Roderick Deucalion Thorne was visible to him.
The data was compelling.
Thorne was born on July 15th 2149, making him fifty-four years old. Mitchell recalled that the body at Cytec looked much older. He had been abandoned by his natural parents at birth - an unusual occurrence, even half a century ago. He was cared for at an orphanage until eighteen months old, then adopted by Sebastian and Christina Thorne and raised on Earth. The first orbtowns were still being commissioned and home for the youngster was small township just outside Washington DC, America-1. Until his adoption he was known as ‘Deuce’, short for Deucalion, a name given to him by a care worker with an interest in Greek mythology. His adoptive parents, both scholars, named him Roderick after Sebastian’s father, but kept Deucalion as a second name. Sebastian Thorne lectured in microbiology at Meridian Hill, of the many Populus Universities that emerged following FedStat’s inception. His new mother was an acknowledged expert in parapsychology. Mitchell wondered what Christina would have made of her son’s alleged ‘transference’...
Thorne’s life was uneventful for the next few years. The Populus file recorded his educational performance as adequate, but not spectacular. His scores reminded Mitchell of his own. Then, at age eleven, something significant. Thorne narrowly escaped death in a freak shuttle collision that left him in a deep coma for several weeks. After recuperating, he began to display a scientific aptitude that Populus Control classified as ‘borderline genius’. Their analysis was proved correct. He graduated in three disciplines with the highest honours before he was twenty-one. Within weeks, he had been headhunted by Cybernet Technologies, later to be bought out by Autogen and re-branded Cytec.
Mitchell’s eye was drawn to the fate of Thorne’s parents, who died not long after he accepted t
he position at Cybernet. Thorne’s own Populus record skimmed over the details and Mitchell spent a few seconds stumbling around for their own files to learn more. The Populus SenANN, unseen and unheard as an individual, guided him as before. Soon, all three records were open and available to him.
His parents had travelled to Asia-3, where Rod Thorne was living and working, to visit him for a few days. Within hours, they were found drowned in the waters of the Yongsan river, their clothes piled at the water’s edge. Christina had experienced premonitions of Armageddon in the months prior to their deaths and local staffers had concluded that this had been a suicide pact. Not everyone agreed with this theory and the FedStat case report contained some interesting comments from close family and friends. Several stated that following Thorne’s shuttle accident, Sebastian and Christina’s relationship with their son had deteriorated. Roderick Thorne senior was insistent that his grandson should be investigated regarding their death. The case was re-examined, but FedStat found no motive or evidence to suggest his involvement.
The initial verdict was upheld.
Mitchell went back to Thorne’s own record. Whatever the truth, their death had a significant effect on the young prodigy, who became a virtual recluse in the years following. In contrast, his work continued to astound the world. Mitchell read on, wide-eyed. In one form or other, Thorne had been involved in every major scientific breakthrough since 2171 – the year that Autogen bought out Cytec and Mitchell’s own parents married. He dug deeper, requesting a fourth file from the SenANNs, this time to fill in the blanks in Cytec’s background.
Autogen had purchased a disused industrial complex on the south-western peninsula of the main landmass of Euro-2. This would become the R&D facility for the Cytec Corporation, their new subsidiary – acquired with ease after industrial espionage had revealed a dubious programme of hybrid experimentation. Although not crossing World Alliance legal boundaries, the story caused a PR disaster and destabilised the company within hours of the media release.
After the takeover, Autogen announced Roderick Thorne’s appointment as Cytec’s Technical and Corporate Lead. Thorne’s first action was to announce that activities in hybrid development had been discontinued. Despite this, the stigma of the Cytec name de-populated the entire peninsula when the move from Asia-3 to the new Euro-2 facility was made public. Compensation lawsuits followed and Roderick Thorne was openly criticised by his peers for retaining the Cytec branding. Autogen’s board, however, continued to give him their full support.