Wrax

by Starr Huntress

  “Um … Ms. AI?”

  “Yes, Cara? Was my chosen name too long for your organic brain to store?”

  I catch a hint of sass that I’m sure I am just imagining. “No,” I say defensively. “I just wanted to know — what happens if there is a bug or something in your programming?” I really know nothing about software or electronics or anything like that, but my curiosity has never been piqued before like it has been piqued by this AI.

  “If there is a bug in my programming, I will catch it and reprogram myself before it can be an issue. That is the advantage of a truly intelligent artificial intelligence.”

  “So you can program and improve yourself,” I say, almost more to myself than anyone else. I am fascinated. “You guys have essentially reached the Singularity on this planet, and … you’ve used that to make talking cabs.” I grin. It’s amazing here. I love it already.

  “What?” Wrax just about barks, making me jump. I had almost forgotten he was there. If his large leg didn’t keep brushing against mine, I probably would have, anyway. It’s difficult to ignore a seven-foot purple warrior when you can feel the heat radiating from his ripe berry-colored skin.

  I feel my cheeks heat up slightly, as if the AI possesses the power to read my thoughts. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.

  “Cara. I have thought about it, and I have decided to shorten my name. Into a ‘nick’ name, of sorts.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I say.

  “You can call me Aphrodite. I have derived it from Earth’s ancient culture.”

  It’s not super short. But it’ll do. “Thank you, Aphrodite.”

  “From your tone I can infer that you are not up to date on your ancient history and planetary culture. Aphrodite is—”

  “I know who Aphrodite is,” I laugh. She is silent for a moment.

  “I struggle when interacting with organics,” she says. “I know to underestimate you, but I do not always know to what extent.”

  I have literally no idea what to say to that. Luckily, I don’t have to respond.

  “You have arrived at your destination,” she says, and the cab alights in the designated docking area of the apartments on the cliff face. There is something akin to an enormous elevator shaft that the hovercab can rise and fall inside to let people out at the right floor. I wonder how the Mahdfel get around if there are no cabs in sight. Then I wonder what would happen to their species if the last remnants of the Firosans were entirely wiped out, like the sentient software that seamlessly runs their world.

  It’s as if they totally take Aphrodite for granted, and everything else the Firosans left behind. It’s just like the way we back on Earth take cement or the internet or cars for granted. The layman probably couldn’t recreate it, but we don’t ever really worry about life without these things.

  “The Firosans were incredibly technologically advanced,” I say to Wrax, still amazed from my encounter with a manmade intelligence.

  He grunts, and scans his palm to let himself in through the sliding glass that turns into his home.

  I don’t know why I expected an actual conversation about artificial intelligence and the nature of sentience, but I kind of did. I deflate as I follow him through his apartment. Everything looks so different, but still like a home. His shelving isn’t IKEA, it’s repurposed roots that naturally wind through the rock face, varnished and used to house his knick knacks. I have the feeling that if I cut into the snaking roots, they would still be alive.

  I like that about Paxia. There seems to be a lot of cohabitation. Between the Mahdfel and nature, and also between the Mahdfel and technology. So far the strange combination hasn’t been jarring at all.

  “This is the living room,” he explains. “I have teleported you a television like they have on Earth. Aphrodite assures me that this one is considered very valuable back on Earth.” His mouth moves in a different way so that I know he isn’t saying ‘Aphrodite’, but that they clearly have a different name for their omnipresent disembodied helper here on Paxia.

  I look up and see what must be a sixty inch TV screen, and my mouth hangs open. It’s nothing like I would have ever bought for myself, but now that I have one I’m not going to say no. I sit down on his couch and sink into the impossibly soft and springy material, which molds around my body perfectly. I am already in heaven.

  “She is able to request movies and television shows from Earth, which can be brought to us very quickly via the teleportation pods, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “For box sets?” I ask, stars in my eyes. I can just sit around and watch anything I want! Until I find a job, that is. But I think after such a huge life change nobody would judge me too much if I took some time off for myself. To catch up on some movies…

  I’ve been working way too much for the last couple of years anyway. Other people my age drink and party and socialize and I just worked. I wish I could say I don’t regret any of it.

  He shows me to the kitchen next, which is open-plan and connected to his comfy living room. The roots twist around and hold what I assume is all of his cooking equipment, and there is a large golden orb that I have no hope of recognizing.

  “What is that?” I point at it.

  Aphrodite answers before Wrax can. It’s like she is excited to tell me things, as I am the only alien to visit this planet in a long time and she is proud of life here. Can AIs get excited? If I ask her if she has emotions, will I offend her? “That is a standard-issue food replicator,” she tells me. “I have been studying Earth extensively since Paxia signed up for the Earth Lottery, and I believe I have a good knowledge of the chemical makeup of most classic foods. If you ask me, I can try to create it.”

  “Like a 3D food printer?” I gasp, gleeful as a child. “Can you make things like … a strawberry?”

  “I have expended more intelligent thought in learning Earth cuisine than I believe every currently living Earthling put together ever has,” the AI says dryly. “And you want me to prove myself by creating one single golf-ball-sized fruit?”

  I nod, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Earth food was one of the things I was least excited about losing. “Yes please.”

  The food replicator buzzes to life and I watch with wonder as a line of light rises and falls mechanically somewhere deep inside its core. A hatch opens and a strawberry tumbles out. It’s blood red with dimples where the seeds would normally be, and a couple of bright green leaves to top it off. It’s beautiful. I quickly bite into it and the sweet, fruity flavor fills my mouth. It’s so juicy. It’s almost exactly right, but not quite. I guess that flavor really is just a combination of mathematical … something or other. But I’m still hugely impressed with Wrax’s life out here in space.

  “Thank you, Aphrodite.”

  She doesn’t respond. I think she is genuinely annoyed that I didn’t give her a challenge.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a tall glass vase and in it is a pile of various fruits, most, if not all of which I do not recognize. “What are they?” I ask Wrax.

  He turns to me as if he had truly forgotten I was there. “Oh,” he says. “In my research of Earth women I learned about something called a bouquet.” He waves his hand in its direction. “Please, enjoy it however you wish. I did not understand its purpose.”

  I tilt my head as I look at the vase of spiky, colorful fruit as if trying to see it from a different perspective. Then I smile widely. Wrax is trying to make me feel more at home. Ha! He might be a fearsome warlord, striking terror into the hearts of everyone on this planet, but he did something sweet for me. No matter how much he will try to deny it.

  “Thank you,” I say. I don’t feel the need to correct him by telling him about flowers. The whole point of a bouquet is that it’s the thought that counts, really.

  He busies himself fiddling with some unrecognizable kitchen appliances and I can’t help but keep smiling. “Aphrodite?” I ask. “How much time did Wrax spend cleaning up for my arrival?”

  T
he AI laughs, a tinkly but mechanical sound. “I generally do not permit myself to interfere with the personal lives of organics, but I will tell you — this once — that it was a very long time.”

  I laugh as well. Wrax wheels around with a deep frown. “What?” He clearly hasn’t been listening at all.

  His mechanical eye flashes as it catches the growing moonlight outside, and I gesture towards it. “Are bionics quite popular on this planet?” I ask him.

  He reaches up to touch the rim of the glass plate in front of his glaring red eye as if he has forgotten it was there. I hesitate, hoping I haven’t broached a sensitive topic.

  “Yes,” he says. “There was no Firosan without a cybernetic implant on the planet. The Mahdfel had a few, but the knowledge for their full use died with the Firosans.”

  “So, can you see through it?” I resist the urge to wave my hand up and down in front of his face.

  “Yes, perfectly well. But it used to have some further functionality that has crashed, and that I do not possess the knowledge to fix.” He folds his arms in front of his magnificent lilac chest and I swallow, watching his muscles bulge and his brows furrow as he looks right at me.

  For some reason, when his gaze is trained right on mine I can feel a palpable tugging in my core. I try not to break the gaze and look away, but it’s difficult.

  “Well, what did it do?” I ask, taking a step forward to lean on the counter and lift my chin to look into his eyes, searching. Talking about his one bionic eye is a great excuse to stare at him.

  The Mahdfel that is my genetic match is … perfect. I cannot think of another way to describe him. If only his personality were not so off-putting, I could seriously consider slotting him regularly into my fantasies. Those broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and defined features. The mechanical eye doesn’t detract from his overall appearance in the slightest. Though his natural golden eye is almost unfairly beautiful, the rugged and harsh red glow with the glass plate in front of it is a divine imperfection that only serves to make him look interesting and like he has lived a real life, with true hardships.

  Nothing like men on Earth have lived.

  “The eye? It tracked micromovements and muscular twitches and assumed what an aggressor was about to do, a split second before they did it.”

  I nod. “So it’s, like, gold dust for arena matches.”

  It’s his turn to smile, despite himself. “Yes. I would agree with that. But it has not worked in almost a year.”

  “Bummer.” I push my hands into my pockets and finally look away, but I still feel his gaze burning into my body as he appraises me, again and again. I wonder if he is really disappointed; if I’m not what he was expecting at all.

  If that is the case, I find myself wishing that I could change his mind.

  Chapter Five

  Wrax

  Watching her poke around my home is not what I expected. I had thought I would feel invaded and exposed and irritated … but I don’t, not at all. I’m simply interested to know what she is going to do next. I can’t even imagine what kind of feelings I would experience if I had to go and live on Earth.

  I think that anger would be among the top contenders. Cara is handling this whole thing admirably. I am impressed with this human’s character so far, which only makes my situation all the more difficult.

  Not to mention that her scent is threatening to drive me wild. As she pokes around in my kitchen — her hands on her hips and a cute frown of thought twisting her delicate (albeit oddly-colored) features — I find myself finding excuses to wander closer and closer to her, just so that I can inhale more of that sweet, intoxicating perfume. Everything about her makes me stiffen, and I have to push it down harder and harder in my mind. It cannot be. I must think of a way to settle this situation as quickly and easily as possible.

  As much as I would love to get to know her better — in both a physical and mental sense — I know that I can’t. My plan is to keep my distance until I figure out what to do here. It’s a delicate situation indeed.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, and she looks at me with eyebrows raised.

  “I’m starving,” she says. “Do we just tell the replicator what we feel like eating?”

  “You can, but it still doesn’t quite compare to the real thing. I prefer not to use it.”

  “Oh?”

  “I enjoy combining my own flavors and watching the meal come together,” I say simply. It isn’t a big deal at all, but for some reason I feel strange saying it in front of her, especially as it makes her eyes twinkle in a way that confuses me.

  “That’s awesome,” she says. “I … don’t know if I would ever cook again if I had a food replicator, I have to be honest.”

  I chuckle. “You sound like a Firosan. Sit, please. I will try to make you something you might like.” She grins so openly at me that it’s difficult for me not to return it — her smile is so radiant that it feels like the room has an extra light source. I avert my gaze and stick to my plan. It’s best for me to engage as little as possible.

  It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I may not have fully thought this through.

  Cara’s eyes widen as she takes her first bite. It’s the first meal that I have cooked for her and I have the feeling it won’t be the last. I may not be long for this world but we will still have several days, if not weeks, together, and the feeling I get from making her happy is strangely addictive already.

  “It’s pretty good!” she cries, but she sounds surprised.

  “Is it different from what you have on Earth?”

  “It’s … not a combination of flavors I would pick,” she says, choosing her words as carefully as a diplomat.

  I look down at the plate of food. I am personally finding it incredibly bland compared to Paxian dishes, but it’s palatable for sure. It’s a pleasing combination of colors, too.

  “You liked strawberries, so I thought I would put them in the traditional macandcheese. Sweet and savory is a popular combination here on Paxia,” I explain carefully. “And then I thought we needed a vegetable so I added a … a pepper.”

  “A chili pepper,” she says, gulping down water.

  “Is it flavorful enough for you?” I poke at mine.

  “It’s certainly flavorful,” she laughs. The sound lifts my spirits and I continue to eat. I’ve had worse. My mother used to try to cook on special occasions, but because she used her precious replicator on every other day of the year, the results were often … bizarre.

  At least I’ve played it fairly safe with this simple Earth meal.

  “I think I could get used to your cuisine,” I say proudly when I have almost finished. Cara politely pushes away her plate, still half full, then rubs her stomach. “That’s enough food for you?”

  “Yes,” she says. “I am a third your weight, remember.”

  I nod. She’s right about that. I let it go.

  She leans back and smiles, intertwining her fingers and setting them on her lap. “So, tell me about what it’s like to be an infamous gladiator. And also an alien.” Her eyes sparkle as if she is making a joke, but I don’t get it.

  “Remember, to me, you are the alien,” I say, pointing a piece of macandcheese at her. “Being a gladiator is very honorable. I have earned the respect of every Mahdfel on the planet. And before I was a gladiator, I fought in the Suhlik Wars.”

  She looks interested in this, so I continue. I enjoy a good war story.

  “I was just a boy when I joined the fight. The wars started before I was able to sign up and I remember seeing the sick and injured soldiers return and just feeling so awful that I wasn’t out there fighting with them. Fighting alongside my peers and brothers was all I wanted to do. To be by their side and to help them.”

  She sips her water as she listens, clearly wanting to know more about me. I am happy to oblige. “When I came of age I signed up straight away, to the chagrin of my parents. But I did well. I quickly climbed the ranks and by the time the Suhl
ik attacked Earth, I was General.” I puff out my chest with pride, and Cara looks impressed.

  “Well, I suppose I should thank you,” she says.

  I wave my hand. “When the war was over we had a decade to regroup. The Suhlik never stopped rebuilding, and they were faster than us. They came to Paxia, and we weren’t expecting that. The Firosans. They…” I trail off, looking at her sideways, trying to gauge how much she actually wants to know.

  “Go on,” she says immediately. I set my hands down on the table and sigh.

  “They sacrificed themselves to defeat the Suhlik. The enemy never even made it to the planet’s surface. The Firosans joined hands and closed their eyes, and…” I stop again and clear my throat. My mother was among them. The mother of everyone I know was among them. “They created a volatile psionic barrier and the Suhlik pushed against it with the might of a small army. The Firosans, as they knew they would, all … well, I suppose they short-circuited.”

  She nods, hanging on my every word. “Because they had so many cybernetic implants?” she presses.

  “Exactly. Paxia showed the Catalyst how to create cybernetics that would allow them to use psionic powers. Paxia is truly an incredible being.” I lower my head out of respect. “She gives us not only the crops we grow and the meat we rear on her lands, but she whispers in the ear of the Catalyst and passes on her knowledge of advanced technologies from a thousand long-passed species.”

  I’ve lost her. Cara looks away and frowns in confusion, but that’s ok. It’s all a lot to take in, I’m sure, and she has all the time in the world to learn about everything.

  “Before she died, the Catalyst told us that it was Paxia’s will that the Mahdfel continue their bloodline. That’s why we decided to join the Earth Lottery.”

  The Mahdfel cannot create female offspring. It’s the fault of our ancient enemies, the Suhlik. We on Paxia were perfectly happy to live alongside the Firosans, a race of all-female technologically advanced aliens. The Mahdfel travel and fight, that’s one of the only things hardwired into our DNA. The rest we gain from our mother species. A few generations back we discovered the Firosan system and settled down here. Now it is home to many of us.