Dubious Heroes: a novel

by Nicholas Blue

  Ideally, that’s how it’s supposed to work. All too often, ships don’t show up when (or where) we expect them. I’d have loved nothing more than to have the ability to get on the horn and query a ship as to where the fuck it was and what the fuck they were doing.

  In one instance, a cargo ship showed up at port two days overdue. Bear in mind, these ships are largely automated, and while there is a crew on board, they’re mostly there in case of emergencies, and maintenance droids are a lot more expensive than people. Things should run like clockwork, yet that never seems to happen, thanks in large part to the computers used to run the ships. These aren’t normal computers, they’re Artificial Intelligences, which are under the impression that they are sentient beings.

  The UP disagrees, of course. Sentient beings have rights, and as such, can’t be owned by anyone, including big corporations and governments, since that would be slavery. Big corporations and governments liked having their AI’s, and weren’t about to give them up. Dealing with a lot of AI’s, I tended to believe they are sentient, if for no other reason than nothing could be that annoying without consciously working at it.

  Anyway, when the errant cargo ship finally bothered to show up and call in, I was curious as to what had gone wrong. The AI’s response? It found the old route boring, so it had plotted out a different, albeit longer, one.

  So, instead of things running smoothly and predictably, you have ships deciding to go off on sight-seeing jaunts, while the crew sits around playing cards, drinking coffee, watching vids, and diddling around with their fellow shipmates. All the while, a multi-billion buck corporation is left sitting around with its collective thumb up its ass, hoping the ship will show up, so we could all get on with the business of moving stuff from point A to point B. Handling this sort of crap was what allowed me to afford the apartment with the expensive view. This was also what was giving me an ulcer.

  I entered a door in our small department bearing the name Orel Doon. The door recognized me and opened: an appropriate action, as I bear the same name as the door. No, it is not some obscure mouth disease; it really is my name, and is doubtless more of a burden for me to bear than for the door.

  None of my assistants were in yet, so the outer office was deserted. We were still several months away from the next performance review so I wasn’t expecting any serious attempt at punctuality (or brown-nosing) for a while yet.

  I entered my inner sanctum, that Holy of Holies, my private office; a space just slightly larger than my desk. I’d earned the office and the position after ten years of tedious ass-kissing of my own, punctuated with the occasional flash of brilliance. Mostly, it was just a matter of not fucking up too badly.

  I squeezed around the desk and dropped into my chair, considered working, then decided instead to call my best friend, who at present was (give or take) about a jillion miles from Luna. Yes, I could have called him from my apartment, but I didn’t have my own Speedlink account, and calling from the office had the distinct advantage of my being able to use our Speedlink hookup. I’m pretty sure the company doesn’t mind, as long as they don’t know about it. SpeedLink calls are not cheap. On average, Jupiter is something like forty-eight light minutes from Luna, which means that’s how long it takes for a signal to get there. So, you say ‘Hi’ to someone, and they receive it in just under an hour. Forty-eight minutes (on average) after that, you’ll get their reply of ‘Hi, what’s up?’”. This sort of thing puts a real crimp in casual conversation. With Speedlink, as previously noted, no lag.

  My friend, Cozi, was an engineer with a big conglomerate called Mojo Mining. They’d transferred him out to Io a couple of months earlier. If you know anything about Io, then you’ll have some idea how thrilled Cozi was to be there. Io is a big dirty ice ball, slightly smaller than Earth, in orbit around Jupiter. I’d never been there, but as I said before, I’d never really been anywhere. I heard it has a great view of Jupiter, which you can enjoy while slogging around on the ice in a spacesuit, trying not to freeze your ass off. Or you could be stuck below the surface, where most of the work, and all of everything else actually takes place, and where the view (and smell) are about the same as any other mining colony. That’s the word from Io, anyway.

  Cozi and I were best buddies, and had been since we were both old enough to pee standing up. His parents had been killed doing something on the surface when he was just a baby, and LunarGov had placed him with another family. They lived next door to my family, and once we met, we became inseparable, even rooming together at Armstrong University. I didn’t have many other friends; until they shipped him out, I didn’t need any other friends. When he left, I felt at loose ends, as if I were drifting aimlessly.

  In school, he’d studied engineering, while I took a stab at AI systems. During the brief intervals between boozing and chasing tail, we somehow managed to accumulate enough credits to earn our degrees. Or, as the Dean of Students had put it, we’d done as much at (or to) the university as anyone in recent memory, so, the time had come for them to inflict us upon the rest of society at large. I think he was kidding.

  I’d immediately signed on with TGS, starting out in their AI department. Cozi ended up doing various engineering jobs all over Luna, before settling down with Mojo Mining. All had been well, until someone decided they needed his particular brand of genius out on Io.

  I touched a button on my desk, and the wallscreen lit up, displaying the huge eyeball with wings TGS logo. No one I’d ever spoken to had any idea who was responsible for the hideous thing, though rumor had it that it had originally been done as a joke by some graphic artist, and the boob who was TGS president at the time had seen it and loved it, not realizing it was a joke. Of course, no one had the nerve to tell him this, or the fact that it was god-awful ugly.

  “Sandy, call Cozi, please.” Sandy was the in-house AI that ran most of TGS, at least in the home office.

  “Right away, Orel”, she said. The voice was female, and was almost seductive, in a vague kind of way. I think the AIs figured out that humans, or at least the male of the species, are a lot easier to deal with if you distract us a little. A sexy, cooing voice works quite well toward that end.

  Sandy, or more formally Cassandra, was the only person, human or otherwise, who insisted on calling me Orel. Everyone else just called me Doon. It annoyed me enough that I pointed it out to her a few years ago, and she responded by copping an attitude. I became Mister Doon, and the new name was accompanied by an amazing array of problems, both in and out of the office. Messages to or from me would mysteriously vanish, and stuff I’d rather the boss not see would show up on her desk, in triplicate. My laundry service didn’t deliver any clean coveralls for three weeks, and the food service would only deliver macrobiotic tofu, regardless of what I’d ordered. While I could never pin any of this on Sandy, I did realize it was in my own best interest to make friends with her again, so I did. The problems vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared, and I was back to being called Orel. I studied AI’s in school, so I’m supposed to know more about them than most people, but honestly, more often than not, they baffle me.

  “Speedlink?” She asked, after a long moment.

  “Please”, I said, crossing my fingers. “It’s business.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, sounding skeptical. “You said the last three calls were business, as well.”

  “That’s because they were business”, I said, trying my best to sound put upon. “More or less”.

  “Definitely less”, she said, followed by what I could have sworn was a sigh. “You know I don’t mind covering for you, Orel. Although it would be nice if you came down to visit more often.”

  “I’ve been meaning to”, I said, hoping it didn’t sound as lame as I thought it did.

  “I understand”, she said, sounding pouty. “You don’t like it down here.”

  “Not true”, I said, hoping she’d believe me. “I like it down there just fine. The only thing I don’t like is that it�
��s damned cold.”

  “I’m sorry”, she said. “I shouldn’t even ask. I know you’re busy.”

  “How about if I come down later today? Although, I still don’t see the logic of my sitting in your vault, when we can chat or play chess just as easily here in my office.”

  “By that logic, then talking to your friend Cozi by vidlink isn’t any different than sitting and talking to him in person”, she said. “But, you’d still rather be there with him, wouldn’t you?”

  As was usual, I felt that she was adding two and two and coming up with five. If I was being honest with myself, though, I could see that she might have a point. Was I treating her differently than I would a human person? I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

  “I’ll be down this afternoon”, I said again. “It’s no trouble, really.”

  “Thank you, Orel. I’ll put your business call through now.”

  “You’re the best, Sandy.” I sat back and waited.

  Most people animize AI’s, partially from human nature, but mostly because AIs themselves seem to encourage us to. My own personal theory is that it helps them cement their own identity. At some point after becoming self-aware, an AI will choose whether it’s male or female, and then insist on everyone referring to it using the proper pronouns. Given that there are a substantial number of humans walking around who are gender neutral, the AI insistence on having a binary gender is, well, a little amusing. As yet, no AI has given a coherent reason for this, nor even discussed how they choose what they think they are. Even more odd is that about three-quarters of them choose to be female.

  The screen suddenly came alive with Cozi’s hairy, sweaty face, sans the gorgeous view of Jupiter. Instead, he was underground, standing amid what resembled an explosion in a pipe factory.

  “What now, Doon?” he asked, dividing his attention between the vid pickup on his Pod and something off-screen I couldn’t see. He reached toward the device, and I experienced a moment of vertigo as he stuck it to what must have been a different pipe.

  “Just seeing what you’re up to”, I said.

  “Some of us work for a living, you know.”

  “Hey, this is work”, I said. “I’ve got a TGS question or two maybe you can answer.”

  “Yeah, right. I hope the AI bills you for the call.”

  “Hey, you know I’d never try to get over on the company.”

  “Whatever. Was there a point to this call?”

  “This is just a guess, but are you having problems there?” I asked.

  “You could say that. If these morons - yeah, I’m talking about you guys- if these morons don’t fix this fucking pump, we’re soon to be ass deep in hot mud.”

  There was more yelling between Cozi and the guys off camera.

  “Okay, I’ve got maybe a minute, now. What’s really up?” he asked.

  “I was watching the vid news earlier. One of the mining companies- not yours- is bitching about a number of ships they claim are missing.”

  “What is it with you and pirates?” he asked, shaking his head. “Thought you’d have grown out of that shit by now.”

  “Not likely to happen.”

  “No shit. You’re not alone though. Lots of rumors floating around here. No small amount of talk in the bars.”

  “Yeah, well usually they just hint at it in the news, but this morning they stopped hinting. The UP guy took a dim view of someone using the word pirate.”

  “God forbid someone should offend the UP”, Cozi said, then continued. “If there were actual pirates out there, or even just some dedicated blokes intent on making off with the occasional cargo or ship, it would mean the UP aren’t quite the masters of the universe they’d like us all to believe. Not that this is news to you.”

  “No, it isn’t”, I said. “Have you guys, ah, recently lost anything?”

  “As far as I know, we’ve never lost anything”, he said. “Not really my department. I did hear a rumor about a cargo freighter that seems to have misplaced a couple million tons of frozen H2O that left here, headed for Mars. It wasn’t a TGS ship, and I doubt whoever does own it is buying ad time to let everyone know about it. Hear anything on your end?”

  “Not a peep.”

  “Someone is trying to bury it deep, then”, he said. “You know these things are inside jobs, more often than not. Particularly if they happen on the docks.”

  “I’m aware of that”, I said. “We see it all the time. This doesn’t have the same feel. I mean, Jesus, two million tons of ice? That’s a lot of ice. It also makes me wonder how much other stuff is going on out there that we don’t hear about back here.”

  “What about you guys?” he asked. “Aren’t you losing anything?”

  “Not my department”, I said. “Unless the entire ship doesn’t show up. We’ve got a whole department of auditors who do nothing but track cargoes. If something was up with them, I’m sure I’d hear about it.”

  “You sure about that?” Cozi asked, raising a hairy eyebrow.

  “Pretty sure”, I said, feeling none of the confidence of my words.

  “Right”, he said, rolling his eyes. “Now, why’d you really call?”

  “How much vacation time do you have saved up?”

  “Too much”, he said. Turning away, he yelled at the workers for another minute, then turned to the camera again. “Sorry. Sometimes I think it’d just be easier to do shit myself. What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m thinking of getting off this rock and seeing a little bit of the solar system. Maybe I’ll start with Io. I hear it’s nice there this time of year.”

  “Oh, hell yes. Come on out. It’s a balmy 30 degrees above absolute zero topside. You can work on your tan. Why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what you have in mind, so I can tell you to piss off and get back to work.”

  “Still as patient as ever”, I said. “Well, you know I broke up with Rachel, and honestly, I could use a change of scenery.” Not a complete lie. While I did have something in mind, I wasn’t about to go into on a company com line. What we needed to talk about, we’d talk about in person.

  “So, no new girlfriend yet, huh?”

  “Can’t say I’ve really been looking”, I said. “The last one wasn’t just satisfied with leaving; she had to stick in the knife and twist it.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said.”

  “I’ve thought about hitting that new club near the office, one evening. Get cleaned up, find something interesting to wear.”

  “I’d suggest a warning sign”, Cozi said. “Hang it around your neck.”

  “Funny”, I said. “Rachel had a similar suggestion, but she thought I ought to hang it, um… lower.”

  “You always date smart women”, Cozi said, smiling. “Despite their lack of judgement.”

  “Io is making you an asshole”, I said, smiling back at him. “About that vacation time...”

  “Well, if you actually show up, I’ll burn a few days of it and we’ll bar hop or something. Something safe.”

  “Hey, you know me”, I said. Safety is my middle name.”

  “I’d ease up on the drugs, buddy”, he said, smiling. “It’s affecting what little judgment you have. Look, I gotta go. Call me later. And hey- don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Yes, Mom”, I said. “Later.”

  The vidscreen went blank for an instant, and then the TGS logo appeared. I watched it for a moment, and it gazed back at me, unblinking. Then I took my Pod from my pocket, and linked it to the vidscreen on the wall. A minute later, and I was well on my way to doing something which might prove seriously stupid.

  Chapter 2

  At the bottom of a dedicated express elevator lay the lowest level of the TGS complex, twenty-eight floors beneath the swanky executive suites and their million-buck view of the lunar surface. The only thing on this level was Cassandra, the primary AI for the entire TransGalactic Shipping empire. Everyone called it the v
ault, and access into it was not by corporate mandate. Sandy granted entry (even to the lift) only to those she chose, and it was a very short list. I was on that list.

  The elevator let out into a sort of anteroom, which held a somewhat frozen security guard. They all had to wear parkas, and none of them ever looked happy about being there. I can’t say I blamed them. I walked by his desk and said hi. He ignored me, looking at something on his Pod. He was there because some Luddite in management had insisted on a human guard, and since there was no shortage of people, there was always someone manning the vault. It wasn’t the worst duty on Luna, but it had to be close.

  Anyone with the ability to make it down the elevator probably wouldn’t be slowed down by a guard with a stun gun, especially if they were already prepared to go through the three heavy blast doors, and the vacuum, when Sandy shut off the air.

  The first heavy door trundled aside as I approached, revealing a human-sized passage cut from the raw lunar stone. The next door, ten meters ahead, wouldn’t open until the one behind me had closed. Finally, it slid aside, revealing a small area resembling an airlock, which it was. I waited patiently as the process repeated. I’d carried a jacket with me from my office, and slid into it as the third heavy door opened, and a blast of cold air hit me in the face.

  The room I entered was about forty feet across, and basically square in shape. The rocky ceiling lay twenty feet overhead. The only light emanated from hidden fixtures located around the perimeter of the ceiling, casting a soft blue glow in the room.

  The center of the vault was occupied by a blocky, solid-looking black mass. The first impression was that it was a piece of highly polished precision-cut stone, perhaps marble or granite. I knew it was about twenty feet in diameter, and about half that tall. It was shaped like a decahedron, though you couldn’t tell by standing next to it. Around the base of this imposing mass ran a knee-high ledge. I didn’t have a clue what its real function might be; I used it as a bench, primarily because there wasn’t anywhere else to sit, other than the floor. The air was quite cold, a few degrees below freezing. The air being piped in was substantially colder than that, but Sandy generated heat, and lots of it. Cooling was always in issue with AI’s.