“You people really are idiots. ALF Prime, of course.”
Chapter 5 – Brain Wreck
Much to everyone’s surprise, Emperor Q’orr was proven right. The Infinite Requiem did produce a fairly steady stream of technical breakthroughs that lead to consumer, medical and military products from the wreckage of countless (and usually spectacular) scientific failures.
To be fair, only a handful proved to be momentous in their impact on society; the most noteworthy being the CT Visor. On the other hand, what inventions it did produce easily paid for its continuous operation . . . keeping alive the hope that someday, something truly significant would come to life.
The individual in charge of the facility was the very same one appointed by the Emperor two centuries earlier – ALF Prime.
ALF was an acronym for Artificial Life Form. The designation of ‘Prime’ meant it was at the top of the hierarchy of this class of devices.
What exactly were ALFs? They were automatons created to serve society in any function deemed necessary. They could be construction supervisors, specialized engineers, space pilots, nursemaids . . . the list was almost endless. However, there were certain occupations that were banned. For instance, an ALF could never be a soldier.
That proscription was actually the result of some very advanced moral thinking. Individuals are less likely to go to war if they, or their loved ones, might have to do the fighting . . . and dying. War is much easier if you can send others to risk their lives.
There was a hierarchy to the ALFs based on the sophistication of their AI’s. The ‘Prime’ ALFs were the most sophisticated. There were actually thousands upon thousands of them – all identical. However, since AI’s are designed to learn, some Primes, over time, became ‘smarter’ than others. To rectify this, once a year, all Primes were synced with one another so that they all shared the same knowledge and experience.
The last item of note was that ALFs resembled bi-pedal humanoids but could never be mistaken for one. They always maintained a robotic element to their physical appearance. Sentient beings in this part of the galaxy had no desire to allow these constructs to surreptitiously replace them. One way to ensure that didn’t happen was to insist that they look robotic.
*****
Only a very small, select group of people were ever allowed to visit Dysmal and the Infinite Requiem. Normally a mid-high-school level class would never, ever be allowed to do so. However, there was a loophole in the rules.
Any group that did not meet the rigorous requirements for ‘normal’ consideration could put their name on a waiting list. Should there be a cancellation (a truly rare occurrence), the next name on the list would receive an invitation (and usually on very short notice). P’yxx’s school was so prestigious that they were allowed to do just that. Her class, because of the students’ advanced programming skills and overall level of genius, was selected to represent the Concordia.
Just to put things in prospective, the school had been on the waiting list for one hundred and thirty-six years. Their odds of being selected were about the same as hitting the jackpot in a lottery. And now you know why the class was so excited.
*****
The Professor allowed her class a few minutes to vent their excitement . . . an emotion she, too, was sharing. She had always wanted to visit the Infinite Requiem but never thought such a thing would ever happen to her.
“Please quiet down. We have much to discuss.”
“Professor, have you ever been there?” asked one student.
“I have not. But . . . I have spoken with a number of individuals who have and I will share their experience in a moment. First, let us review the rules governing visitors. I know you are excited, but this is important. Anyone caught violating these rules will be sent home immediately. Furthermore, those individuals will be given a failing grade. This visit is such a great honor for the Concordia and this class. And it is a once in a lifetime opportunity for each of you.”
Leave it to the brilliant, but emotionally stunted, Oh’tezla to look at his friends and make a ‘snoring’ sound. As they were programmed to do, his sycophants snickered in appreciation at the juvenile display.
Having pointed that out, and at the risk of taking his side, let’s not review all the tedious do’s and don’ts the Professor was about to share. Instead, let’s summarize the most important ones.
Permission to disembark through the Displacement Gate and enter the Requiem was based on the DNA of the individual, which would have been filed with the ALF Prime prior to arrival. Basically, if you didn’t have permission to visit, you would be arrested by the ALF’s legions of robotics and escorted back to your world of origin. No exceptions.
While there, the ALF Prime was to be obeyed at all times. It should be noted that it was governed by a hardcoded Prime Directive – An A.I.-powered robotic may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
So, what was all the excitement about visiting this place? Well, you would get to explore all the scientific failures that interested you and see how the ALF Prime was directing his legions to ‘make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear’ (so to speak). Moreover, you could petition the ALF to allow you to work on any of the projects if you could convince it that you had something of value to add.
Having successfully worked on one of these projects and bringing about something of worth could bring you very high honors, possibly not insignificant wealth and, at the very least, a degree of galactic-wide recognition.
It was considered a very big deal.
*****
Aerianna
“Why not?” demanded Ellie Rose.
“Mom, you said we could,” whined her younger sister.
The three were in Ellie’s lab. The girls were going through their final preparations for their maiden voyage and were expecting to leave within the hour.
Egg bit her tongue as she wrestled with her response. Their childish reaction was what she expected from pre-teens who were facing disappoint. That didn’t concern her. However, though her daughters were only eleven, she felt that they needed to begin acting like the leaders of the Hameggattic Sisterhood that they would one day become.
“Let’s play a game.”
Syl’kie scrunched her face then looked at her sister. “What’s she talking about?”
Ellie didn’t answer immediately. Instead she stared at her mother as if she could read her thoughts. Egg smiled when the girl figured it out. “Role playing.”
“What?” That was her sister.
Egg’s smile grew. Her daughter really was beyond intelligent. “Explain it to your sister, please.”
“Oh, Mother,” but she did as she was told. “The Queen would like for one of us to pretend to be her.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t like the way we reacted to her news.”
“I don’t understand.”
On occasion, Ellie could actually respond with empathy and understanding. “You be Mom and tell me we can’t go.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But remember, you’re my mother. Go ahead and tell me.”
“Alright. Ellie Rose, I’ve changed my mind and you can’t go.”
“Why not? You said I could. You promised. Why are you being so mean? Don’t you love me?” All of this was said in an angry, petulant tone.
“It’s my decision so just shut up.”
That response caused Ellie and Egg to laugh.
“Was that the wrong thing to say?” the younger girl asked.
Egg answered. “Remember, you were role playing me. Have you ever heard me say something like that? Or do I always have what I consider your best interest in mind and an explanation as to why I had changed my mind?”
“Yeah, that.”
“So, try it again.”
“Okay,” and she turned back to her sister. “Ellie Rose, I don’t deserve what you just said. Please ask again but don’t do it like a spoiled brat.” She turned
to her mother. “Better?”
“Absolutely. Very well done. From now on, think before you react. The person you’re talking to may be a dear friend whose feelings you might hurt . . . or an enemy who might use your reactions against you in some nefarious way.”
Syl turned to her sister. “Nefarious means evil.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Ellie turned to her mother. “Your Majesty,” and she curtsied, “Would you do your humble and loving subjects the honor of an explanation as to your decision?”
“Sarcastic but definitely an improvement. Yes, I will. Aunt Jax’x is making you your very own Ziz and it won’t be ready for a couple of days. Some of your uncles are helping her . . . putting some interesting capabilities into the device.”
“A mechanical chaperone?” wisecracked the girl.
“No. It will be programmed to obey you two. A chaperone represents the parents.”
“Nothing hardwired that we can’t override?”
“Just one. Neither of you can purposefully sacrifice yourself to save another. Not even your sister.”
Surprisingly – or maybe not – Syl’kie responded with, “I don’t like that. My job is to protect Ellie, no matter what.” That won her a big smile from her sister.
“No one will stop you from protecting her. You just can’t ‘knowingly’ give up your life to save hers. Please remember, the Myst Tree offered no warning that either your lives are in danger so this discussion is moot.”
Ellie wasn’t buying that response; her mother wasn’t telling them something. Then it dawned on her. “You asked Aunt Spirit to do a Thought Weave, didn’t you?” Spirit could see future probabilities through her Thought Weaves.
“Maybe.”
The girl was about to complain on general principle then thought better of it. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. So, what did she ‘see’?”
“She won’t finish it till tomorrow.”
“Mom, if that Tree friend of yours says we’re in no danger, why are you doing all this stuff”? asked Syl’kie.
“He didn’t say you wouldn’t be in danger. He just implied that everything would end well. So, I’m doing all I can think of to prove him right.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“That’s what mothers do.”
“What about fathers?”
“Can’t talk for all fathers, but yours insisted on going with you.”
“NO”.
“Calm down. I talked him out of it.”
“How?”
Egg blushed as she remembered her conversation with Benny. “I can be very persuasive.”
Syl’kie took that at face value. On the other hand, Ellie, who knew way too much about everything, responded with “Yuk.”
Egg’s retort of, “You shut up,” caused all three to laugh.
*****
Back on Ooz’tari World
Class was dismissed early because there was a zero chance that anything of worth would be accomplished. Knowing that her parents would be at work, P’yxx headed straight to their lab.
Much to her relief, Oh’tezla and his friends didn’t follow her. Even so, she jogged the whole way, bubbling with excitement to share the amazing news with her parents. When she arrived, she took a small Displacement Gate in the lobby to the floor where her parents did their work. In the hallway where she exited, there was no one to be seen. That was a little unusual.
She made her way to the lab but stopped short. The door was partially open and she could hear some very agitated voices on the inside. Two of those voices belonged to her parents. Looking around to see that the hall was still empty, she stopped and listened to what was being said. Eavesdropping wasn’t something she would normally engage in. But this involved her mother and father and, for reasons that she didn’t understand, it made her very nervous. She could count on one hand the number of times she heard them raising their voices in such a manner.
Unfortunately, the conversation was about the phenomenon that her parents were going to study . . . and, despite her impressive intelligence, she could only understand maybe one in four words. The rest was scientific gobbledygook and after a few minutes, she gave up her listening post. She walked into the lab purposely forgetting to knock. “Hi,” she called out cheerfully.
At the sound of her voice, the lab went dead silent . . . which only added to P’yxx’s feeling of unease.
“Sweetheart,” called her mother. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Something happen at school?” asked her father anxiously.
“Yup,” but she didn’t want to make her dad worry so she immediately explained, “my class is going to the Infinite Requiem the day after tomorrow.”
It took a moment for the significance of that statement to sink in. Then the whole lab – all dozen or so scientists – broke into animated babble much like P’yxx’s classmates.
I told you it was a big deal.
“P’yxx, how exciting,” said her father and he walked forward to give her a congratulatory hug.
Her mom joined in and gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead. Then she tuned to the others and asked, “Can you give us a few minutes?”
Since the conversation couldn’t continue with the girl in the room, the others smiled their consent and walked out – each expressing their personal best wishes to P’yxx on the upcoming field trip.
Once the room was empty and the door closed, and before they could ask her about the trip, P’yxx looked at her parents and demanded to know what was going on.
“What are you referring to?”
“Stop it, Momma. I heard all of you arguing. Why?”
“Sweetheart, we’re scientists. That’s what we do.”
“Come on, I’m not a little kid anymore.” She was technically correct but in her parent’s eyes, she would always be their little girl.
“P’yxx, sit down please,” requested her father. She did as he asked. The man stole a glance at his wife who shrugged resignedly. “The Dystonian Vortex we’re going to study is quite unstable. Your mother and I were presenting our final plans for investigating the phenomenon. Our colleagues were just expressing their concerns.”
“So, it’s going to be dangerous.” It wasn’t a question.
“There is always an element of risk in what we do. Come here and let me show you an image of it.” She walked over and looked at the screen of his computer.
“It’s pretty.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“What makes it so dangerous?”
He didn’t really want to elaborate so he gave her a nonsensical answer. “Because we know so little about it.”
“Papa, stop treating me like a child.”
The man smiled proudly. “Sorry. We really don’t know very much about it, but what we do know is that it gives off gravitational waves. The yellowish color you see is . . . is the energy released as matter is torn apart by those waves.”
“Oh.”
“P’yxx, we’ll be very careful, I promise.”
“Then take me with you.”
Her mother involuntarily put her hand over her mouth – presumably in horror at the thought of risking her daughter’s life. P’yxx didn’t notice.
“Sorry, that’s against the rules. You know that.”
“Then don’t go.”
“P’yxx, that’s our job.”
“Being my parents is your job.”
Her father looked at his wife as if to say, ‘your turn’. “Sweetheart”.
P’yxx turned to look defiantly at her mother. “Nothing you can say, will convince me, Momma.”
Her mother’s response surprised her. “Why did you go to school today?”
“What?”
“Your father told me what happened with those bullies. Yet, you went to school today as if it never happened. Why?”
P’yxx shook her head. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
Ignoring that comment, her mother answered her own question. “Yo
u went because it’s your responsibility to get an education. Even if there’s a risk that those imbecilic children might try to harm you – which is beyond outrageous – you knew what you had to do and you did it.”
“Momma, it’s not the same thing. Getting whacked by snowballs is nothing compared to getting smashed by gravitational waves. I risked a bruise; you’re risking your lives.”
“First, it’s our profession – something we have dedicated our lives to do. By the way, you can blame me for that. Your father had his heart set on becoming a window washer.”
Her attempt at humor actually worked and P’yxx, despite herself, giggled. “That was mean. You know I’m trying to stay angry.”
“Sorry,” was the insincere response. “Anyway, secondly, there are always risks but we think they are acceptable. We would never knowingly do something so rash that we – and you – would suffer needlessly.”
“Then why were the other scientists arguing with you? They think it’s too dangerous, don’t they?”
Her father answered “it’s not what you think. They believe that one of the probes we intend to launch to gather data may cause a rogue graviton wave . . . meaning that it might propagate in an unexpected direction.”
“As in it might crush you?”
“It’s pure speculation and there simply is no scientific basis for their conclusion. They’re letting their friendship for us cloud their judgement.”
“Papa, that’s unspeakably horrible. How dare they put love of friends ahead of scientific research.” Perhaps she was being a bit sarcastic.
The man smiled at the question then turned serious. “My dearest, dearest P’yxx. Other than our boundless love for you, it is our quest for knowledge, our desire to understand this immensely wonderful and bafflingly complex universe that makes our lives meaningful.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it if it puts you in danger.”
“How about this. We will contact you every day – from the time that we leave until the moment we turn back for home?”
“Isn’t that terribly expensive?” Normally a conversation at the distances involved would create a thirty-minute delay from the time a message was sent to the time it was received. To make it ‘in real time’, the communications would have to be passed through a Displacement Gate . . . hence the expense that P’yxx was referring to. Use of Gates (other than within the confines of a planet) cost big bucks.
P'yxx - Syl'kie and Ellie Rose's 1st adventure Page 6