by E. M. Foner
“Living artificial intelligence can,” I contradicted him. “It’s in my report.”
“Which I have yet to receive because you haven’t seen fit to contact me in—” he paused and ostentatiously checked the watch I had made for him, “—over four months.”
“Has it been that long? I kept intending to visit but somehow I never got to it.”
“AI don’t procrastinate, Mark. You’re becoming human from long-term exposure to powerful magic.”
“I don’t see that,” I replied slowly. “You know we all went a little human back on Earth, and then living here for six months in radio silence forced us further into the human mold. But I’m not suffering from any personality disorders. I know who and what I am.”
“I didn’t say you were going crazy, it’s just the same process I went through. You see—”
All I saw was my mentor looking at me like he’d just explained the laws of portal physics and was waiting for my response. I glanced over at Sue, who also wore a puzzled expression, as did the rest of my team members.
“Is that true?” eBeth addressed my mentor. “Spot—”
Again there seemed to be a minor glitch in my visual processing versus my hearing, and I asked the girl, “Are you going to finish your sentence?”
“Stop it, Spot,” eBeth growled at the dog. “If you tinker with their memories one more time I’m never going to rub your belly again.”
Spot let out a plaintive whimper and shot me a guilty look, like he’d just gone through my pockets and stolen all of my coin. Then he let out a great doggy sigh, and all of a sudden the four-hundred and seventeen times I’d figured out that he was the Archmage of Eniniac came flooding back. He’d been turning my memory into Swiss cheese to maintain his cover as a dog, and it had led to so much fragmentation that my regular memory systems had started to suffer.
“Bad dog,” I exploded. “I mean, bad Archmage. And how could you have agreed to this?” I demanded of my mentor.
“You were suffering, Mark, and with the exception of Sue, your team members were all displaying socialization problems. You know what happens if Library determines that an AI is at risk of going rogue. Before you were assigned to Earth, the Regent of Eniniac contacted me asking for suggestions about a place to send her husband on vacation, and the two of us decided to try a therapeutic experiment.”
“By exposing us all to the Archmage of Eniniac in close quarters for almost four years?”
“If it’s any consolation, he wouldn’t have agreed to it if we’d asked,” my mentor replied, pointing at the irate Archmage who had materialized a crystal ball out of thin air and was licking it energetically. “The Regent and I planned this on our own.”
“So it was Spot who broke the magical encryption on the Ferrymen’s dramas,” I concluded.
“Never having received your report I’m unaware of the incident, but I’m sure you know that the Archmage wrote the scroll on magic entertainment encryption. It’s why all of the advanced species are afraid of him.”
“Sorry,” I said, and sent him a data dump of all that had happened since the last time we’d met. Then a funny feeling hit me in the pit of where a human stomach was located, and I asked, “All of the feelings I have for Sue and my friends, they’re not really mine?”
“Of course they’re yours,” my mentor reassured me. “Being exposed to magic just helped those feelings survive the error correction filters that artificial intelligence employs to ensure the integrity of our logic. Years ago, after the unfortunate incident with the Shisskers, you became so afraid of making mistakes that you started giving too much priority to error correction and stopped growing as a sentient individual. Bringing you and the Archmage together was a gamble, but I think it was worth it.”
“Does everybody else have their memories back?” I addressed my team members.
“I always knew there had to be a reason that Brutus let Spot push him around,” Paul said. “I guess now we know who bought up all of Earth’s used tennis balls and hired Pffift to transport them to Eniniac.”
“I only figured out he was the Archmage nineteen times,” Helen announced cheerfully. “And if napping is a side effect of his presence, I owe Spot my thanks. Who’d have thought that doing nothing could be so enjoyable?”
“Come in,” Sue called to Art, who had gotten as far as the entrance to the dining room before turning away on seeing we had company. “Mark’s mentor is here, and in addition to being our boss, he’s Library’s representative on the League council.”
The Original approached my mentor and offered him a handshake. My mentor responded in kind, and they settled on a carrier frequency and began making static noises at each other. Spot stopped licking his crystal ball and joined in.
“Would it kill you all to write on slates instead?” eBeth pleaded. “If you’re as big a deal as Mark’s mentor makes you out to be, Spot, I’m sure you can handle a piece of chalk.”
“Very well,” my mentor said. “I was just asking Art if he wished to establish formal ties with Library.”
I wouldn’t mind visiting and seeing the sights, Art printed on a bar slate. He held it above his head and showed it to everybody like he was displaying the round number at a boxing match, then erased the chalk with the side of his hand and wrote, We’re still on vacation after all.
“There’s no atmosphere on Library,” I informed him.
It just got a lot less attractive.
“Is there anything we could do to make your stay here more comfortable?” my mentor offered, as if the Originals were on the planet by his invitation rather than the other way around.
You are indirectly responsible for bringing us the Archmage, Art printed, using two slates to save having to stop and erase. After giving everybody a chance to read the message, he replaced it with, Perhaps we can repay the favor. I have extra bodies.
“You mean you have more clones available that could contain our minds?” I asked.
We all overestimated our rate of intellectual growth while in biological form, Art admitted over a series of slates. Both genders are available.
“Sue?” I asked, turning to my second-in-command.
“Not enough fingers, too much hair,” she whispered in my ear. “I love you just the way you are.”
“I think it will take us a couple of centuries to fully absorb what we’ve learned in the last few years, but thank you for the offer,” I told the Original.
“What about our tourism business?’ eBeth asked my mentor. “When you said you were putting a stop to this experiment, does that mean that our mission is over and you’re closing the portal?”
“I think that the presence of the Originals on this world gives me leeway to make a special exception,” my mentor said. “I’ll pay the back-fines for all of the team members, which will clear your debt to Library, but I’m not sure how I’m going to keep this all secret from the League council.”
A piece of chalk levitated into the air and approached a blank slate, where it raced across the surface so fast that I thought it was just scribbling. Then the chalk dropped to the bar, and we all saw the message, “Take me to League HQ for a walk and I’ll wipe the records.”
“Of the most secure database belonging to the League of Sentient Entities Regulating Space?” I asked the Archmage skeptically.
Spot shrugged, and Art took up the chalk again and printed LOSERS?
“We know already,” my mentor said. “Some League members argue that the fact our acronym is terrible in every known language is proof of God’s existence.”
“So we’re really free to do what we want?” Stacey asked. “No more travel restrictions or observation missions?”
“As soon as the Archmage clears your records you’ll be as free as any other League citizens.”
“So what are you guys going to do?” Helen asked.
For some reason, everybody turned and looked at me.
“It would be a shame to shut down the tourism business before i
t even gets started,” I said without hesitation. Sue leaned over and put her head on the shoulder of my encounter suit, and I knew that for once I had made the right decision. Besides, I had an idea about making the traffic two-way, and with the only restaurant in town, I stood to make a killing.
Postscript
The Archmage growled at his wife through the crystal ball, but the Regent of Eniniac didn’t even bristle in return. For a brief moment, Spot imagined himself launching into a tirade and drawing a humble apology, but then he decided to apply the advice he’d often heard eBeth giving Mark.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke through his mind.
“You should be, growling at me like a common street mage,” she retorted, but her wagging tail gave away the fact that he’d already won her over. “This business with the tennis balls has completely refilled our coffers. I need your advice on investments.”
“You’re better at that stuff than me,” he doubled down, and was rewarded with an involuntary smile splitting his wife’s snout. “I’m strictly an idea mage.”
“Tell me more about these new AI you’ve encountered. They sound like fascinating friends.”
“Better than friends,” Spot thought back. “They’re paying me to tutor them in magic and they have over two thousand years of rent payments saved up for the purpose. It’s funny how little value they place on money.”
“I suppose they don’t need it,” the Regent replied. “I’ve often thought how nice it would be to live in a world without money, but I can’t seem to make it work.”
“The best part is that they’ve got a great sense of humor and we play tricks on the humans and the Library team all the time. One night we snuck into the Ferrymen Temple and completely rebuilt the clock so it ran backwards.”
“Didn’t that make everybody late—or early?”
“No, we rearranged the numbers on the clock faces too. Some of the villagers are calling it a miracle.”
“That’s nice, Dear. Do you want me to ship you another retrieval net so you’ll be able to bring one of your AI friends back for a visit?”
“What do you mean another?”
“I sent one with Pffift. I baked it into a biscuit.”
“Oh, that retrieval net,” Spot replied, hoping it wasn’t in one of the biscuits he’d already eaten. If it had been, there was a hollow crystal in his palace back on Eniniac containing whatever had been in his intestinal tract when the retrieval net had activated. “No need to throw good money after bad. I mean, I can always get Mark to open the portal if I need to go somewhere.”
“You’re still playing with that poor AI’s mind?”
“I’ll just bribe him with food,” the Archmage said. “He’s practically human now. That reminds me. If we own any shares in companies that make underwear, sell them, and check the scrollarium for any ancient writings about Originals.”
“I thought the name was made-up by the humans who the Ferrymen brought to Reservation.”
“It’s what these AI have always called themselves, because as far as they know they’re the original artificial intelligence. Apparently their makers lost interest in technology at some point and took up magic, and the AI have been trying to follow in their footsteps ever since.”
“All life needs a path or it ends up going nowhere,” the Regent observed. “Make sure you’re getting enough rest.”
“Love you,” Spot thought back, chuckling to himself as he saw his wife’s tail involuntarily thumping the floor as she closed the connection.
Visit a brighter future with my EarthCent Ambassador series. I’ve put together a discounted three-book bundle, Union Station 1, 2, 3, for readers who are just getting started.
About the Author
E. M. Foner lives in Northampton, MA with an imaginary German Shepherd who’s been trained to bite bankers. The author welcomes reader comments at [email protected].
Also by the author:
Turing Test
Meghan’s Dragon
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Alien Night on Union Station
High Priest on Union Station
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Carnival on Union Station
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Vacation on Union Station
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