Chapter Four
Susan stepped into her private room with her back straight and head held high. She looked every bit the proper Admin Peacekeeper, all the way up to the moment the door sealed shut behind her.
Finally, she was alone.
Susan pressed her back against the door and let out a long, slow sigh as she slid down, every artificial muscle in her body loosening until her butt smooshed against the carpet.
She removed her peaked cap, threw it like a frisbee to land on a nearby table, and ran fingers through her short hair.
“He probably thinks I’m some sort of thug,” she moaned.
This was, she had to admit, not an unfair assessment. She was a STAND, after all. She’d voluntarily given up her frail flesh to become a living weapon, a construct that forever teetered on the edge of what it meant to be human, all in service of the System Cooperative Administration and the laws and ideals it fought to uphold.
She was a blunt instrument, not an ambassador. That much was painfully obvious.
“‘Is that an order?’” She rolled her eyes. “What the hell was I thinking?”
She drew in another deep breath and sighed once more, slouching lower against the door.
It was a common misconception that a connectome only consisted of a neural map. This was not the case. While the technology existed in both SysGov and the Admin to extract a hyper-accurate neural map that replicated a person’s “wet” brain, this alone could not produce a complete representation of the individual. There were also the physiological and biochemical aspects of human personalities to consider, such as how smiling could improve a person’s mood or how a deep breath could produce a calming effect.
In order to overcome this obstacle, a simulator was attached to the connectomes of post-organic citizens. This software package mimicked organic bodily functions that impacted personality, forming a feedback loop with the connectome’s neural map.
As with any piece of software, this simulator could be modified far more easily than an organic body, but strict legal hurdles existed in both SysGov and the Admin for anyone wishing to perform such invasive self-modification. Susan had exactly zero interest in that; she may have come to terms with her synthoid inhumanity, but she clung to what little humanity remained with selfish zeal. The only modifications she’d received were those required by her position as a STAND, such as edits to her pain response. Other than those, her synthoid remained set for maximum fidelity.
And so, when Susan sighed after totally blowing it with her new partner, the act made her feel better.
At least a little.
“What a day,” she breathed, pushing herself up off the floor. She walked a lap around the room, took some comfort in the blue suitcase on the bed, home to a few modest personal effects. She continued on, paused to admire an oil painting of a city floating over Venus, then stopped at the massive window on the far side.
She gazed out into the starry void, hugged her arms under her breasts, then leaned close to the concave glass and looked up.
An oblong tan orb shone “high” above the ship, distant yet bright.
Saturn.
Her destination.
“Farther than I’ve ever been.” She stepped away and took a moment to consider how she’d come to be here.
* * *
“Come in, Agent.”
The malmetal door split open, and Susan stepped briskly into the conference room deep in the subbasement bowels of the DTI tower. She stopped beneath a single overhead light in front of a long, rectangular table, the rest of the room consigned to the shadows. A natural human would have struggled to spot—let alone identify—the other people in the room, but her synthoid eyes adjusted instantly.
From left to right, she saw Jonas Shigeki, Under-Director of Foreign Affairs, Dahvid Kloss, Under-Director of Espionage, Katja Hinnerkopf, Under-Director of Technology, and STAND Special Agent James Noxon. Someone inexperienced with the DTI might have been puzzled to see these four together, but Susan knew better. For whatever reason, she now found herself hauled before the “inner circle,” and the only person missing was the man in charge, Director-General Csaba Shigeki.
What could this possibly be about? she wondered. Have I done something wrong?
Her interactions with the inner circle ranged from limited to nonexistent, which made their presence here all the more puzzling.
Hinnerkopf may have been the Under-Director of Technology, but the compact, stern woman spent most of her time and energy focused on their chronoports, not equipment as comparatively mundane as synthoids.
Jonas Shigeki had been the Under-Director of Suppression until recently, in charge of the DTI’s planetary network of time drive suppression towers, but that was before everyone found out they had a technologically superior neighbor eyeballing them from across the multiverse! Susan had served all ten of her years at the DTI in Suppression, but she’d never once met him in person until today.
She’d fought alongside Agent Noxon during a few tough DTI ground missions, and she’d found him focused, dedicated, and extremely capable, if a little cold.
And then there was Dahvid Kloss.
Susan had been interrogated by him once; she hadn’t been the target of his investigation, thankfully, but his ruthless pursuit of the leak in their organization had left a lasting impression. She could safely say of all the people she’d met within the DTI, Dahvid Kloss was the only one she genuinely feared.
“Agent,” Kloss began as he leaned in, “we are assessing you for possible reassignment in your capacity as a STAND. We will ask you a series of questions, and you will answer them truthfully and completely, to the best of your abilities. Furthermore, this meeting’s contents are confidential, DTI under-director rank or higher with yourself and Agent Noxon as approved exceptions. You will not discuss any aspect of this meeting with unapproved personnel. Breaking confidentiality may result in punishment up to and including dishonorable discharge from the Peacekeepers. Are these instructions clear?”
“Perfectly clear, sir.”
Possible reassignment? she thought. Either I’ve done something very, very wrong…or very, very right.
“Good. Then let’s begin.” Kloss placed his hand on the table, and a virtual chart appeared to his right, blurred by a privacy filter. “According to your file, you’ve been a STAND for nine years. In fact, you’re one of the youngest STAND applicants on record, enlisting in the Peacekeepers at the age of twenty and transitioning to a synthoid at twenty-three. What motivated your decision to enlist?”
“The Byrgius Blight, sir.”
“Ah, of course,” Hinnerkopf said, and Noxon nodded approvingly at her side.
Susan hadn’t always been a staunch supporter of the Admin; in fact, she’d been the complete opposite all the way up to her third year at Byrgius University, situated in the lunar crater of the same name. She’d been a bright-eyed idealist at the time, immersed in the melting pot of cultures at Byrgius. No problem was too large or too complex for the enlightened insight of her professors.
Or so it had seemed.
People came from all over the solar system to attend the university because, despite its location within Luna’s hotbed of violence, time had transformed it into a symbol for those who wished to reform the Admin, not through bloodshed, but by the slow changing of hearts and the winning of elections.
Her world had appeared so much easier to fix back then, but she soon learned a hard, vital lesson. Some people reserved their hottest rage not for their enemies, but rather for those they viewed as traitors amongst their own people.
And that irrational, black-hearted hatred had led Free Luna terrorists to unleash a voracious nanotech strain within the Lunarian dormitories. The self-replicating blight started as a modest seed, but it grew quickly, devouring anyone and anything it touched. Walls oozed down like wax under a flame, and students writhed in unspeakable agony as tiny machines ate them alive from the inside, reducing them to quivering puddles of meat.
Susan had been asleep in an adjacent dormitory when the alarms sounded. A section of the campus began to depressurize, and emergency bulkheads sealed off her only means of escape, trapping her inside the same area as the blight. She would have died that day were it not for the Peacekeeper teams that had braved the infestation time and time again to save as many students as they could.
She remembered the STANDs most of all. They stood tall and fearless in the face of the blight, pushing it back with their incinerators, holding the line as flesh-and-blood operators rushed student after student to safety.
Not every STAND made it out Byrgius alive that day, but not one of them—not a single one—fell back until the last of the students who could be saved had been saved. Then—and only then—did the STANDs pull back, allowing the Admin cruiser high overhead to scour the site clean with laser fire.
Susan would never forget that day, nor would she ever forgive the madness of the Admin’s enemies. Some problems couldn’t be solved with kind words and an understanding heart.
“If memory serves, I applied to the Peacekeepers about a month after the attack,” Susan added.
“And your decision to join STAND three years later?” Kloss asked.
“I set that goal for myself the day I enlisted.”
“Why?”
“It seemed the best place for me to make a difference, sir.”
“Wasn’t that a bit hasty?”
“Sir?”
“Let me rephrase the question. Why would you, a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, willingly submit yourself to such hazardous work? Most STANDs ‘retire’ from service when they’re killed in the line of duty.”
“I knew that at the time, sir.”
“And yet you still volunteered.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Byrgius, sir.”
Kloss drummed his fingers on the table, clearly unsatisfied with the repeated answer.
“Very well,” he said at last, then glanced once more to his obscured chart. “What is your opinion of the Yanluo Restrictions? Specifically, the Restrictions on AI development.”
“It is part of our duties as Peacekeepers to enforce the Restrictions against AI development.”
“Yes, but what is your opinion of them?”
“Sir?” Susan asked, not sure what he was looking for.
“What do you think of them?”
“My opinion doesn’t matter, sir. It is my sworn duty as a Peacekeeper to enforce the Restrictions.”
“But are they good laws?”
“They’re…important laws?” she asked more than answered.
“Important, you say?” Kloss exhaled an irate breath. “And if the Restrictions were amended to allow for unfettered AI development?”
“Then I will enforce those new Restrictions. As is my sworn duty.”
“But what is your opinion of them?”
“I don’t really have one when it comes to AI Restrictions. I do have some strong opinions about self-replicators, if you’d like to hear those, sir.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” Kloss checked his chart again. “Moving on, what is your opinion of SysGov? Can you at least try to give me that?”
“Gladly, sir. Our intelligence on SysGov ground forces is limited at this point. However, it is believed that SysPol’s Arete Division serves as the closest analogue to—”
“Stop,” Kloss groaned wearily. “You misunderstood the question yet again.”
“Sir?”
“I’m not interested in their military. I’m asking about their people.”
“Their civilians, sir?”
“Yes.”
“You’re asking me?” Susan said, bewildered.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“I ask the questions here, Agent. Not you.”
“Sorry, sir.” She snapped her eyes forward. “I don’t feel I’m qualified to give an answer.”
“Agent, you will answer the question.”
“They’re…” Susan struggled to come up with something. Anything. “Weird?”
“Weird,” Kloss repeated.
“Maybe a little naive?”
“Naive, you say.”
“When it comes to how they use their tech, sir.”
“Weird and naive.” He turned to Jonas. “Are you even listening?”
“To every word, Dahvid,” Jonas replied, sounding bored.
“Care to ask any questions of your own?”
“Look, Dahvid. This is your pointless exercise, not mine.”
“And you still think she’s our best option?”
“I wouldn’t have picked her otherwise.”
“But to base our candidate solely on—”
“Common ground,” Jonas cut in. “That’s the key, and that’s why this is going to work.”
“His approach is unorthodox,” Hinnerkopf said. “However, I must admit I’m interested to see the results.”
“And I’ll vouch for Agent Cantrell’s dedication and professionalism,” Noxon said. “She’s one of our finest agents.”
“Yes,” Kloss agreed. “In STAND. I’m sure she’s a great walking, talking demolition zone, but have any of you considered that’s not what we need in a representative?”
“A what, sir?” Susan asked suddenly.
“You”—Kloss pointed a fierce finger at her—“stay out of this!”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a mousy voice.
“You worry too much,” Jonas said.
“I’m the Director of Espionage! It’s my job to worry!”
“Oh, don’t get so worked up,” Jonas urged. “The risk for us is minimal. If I turn out to be wrong and this whole thing doesn’t pan out, they’ll blame me for the failure. Not the Admin as a whole. Just me.”
“You’re not half as clever as you think you are,” Kloss seethed.
“Maybe so.” Jonas leaned back with spread hands. “But who secured that new drive tech deal? Who led the first ever joint mission? Face it, Dahvid. I have a proven record here. No one on our side understands them like I do. Not even you.”
“Perhaps,” Kloss fumed, backing off a little. “But I still say we should bring the boss in on this.”
“Seriously, Kloss?” Hinnerkopf scolded. “Do you really want to tell the director we need our hands held on this decision?”
“Well, no.”
“He delegated this task to us,” Jonas pointed out. “And this is an issue for Foreign Affairs, so I’m well within my authority here.”
“Yes, but…” Kloss glanced at Susan, then turned back to Jonas. “Can we at least tell her what the common ground is?”
“No,” Jonas said. “It has to come up naturally. We don’t want this to look staged.”
“It is staged!”
“But we don’t want it to look that way.”
“Fine,” Kloss relented, then threw up his hands. “Fine! My objections have been noted. The rest of this is on your head.” He faced Susan with fire in his eyes. “You’re dismissed.”
* * *
Susan slumped against the window in her room and stared out into space.
“Kloss was right,” she muttered. “They should have picked someone else.”
She shook her head and pushed off the window, then finished her circuit of the room. The word DELIVERY floated over a section of wall with the line ASK ME ANYTHING! glowing underneath. She stepped up to the display.
“Hello, Agent Cantrell,” the friendly woman’s voice said in her virtual hearing. “How may I be of service?”
“Umm. Hello.”
“Hello.”
Susan frowned at the wall. “Are you an AI?”
“No, Agent. I’m but a simple attendant program. Would you like to speak to a live Guest Services specialist?”
“No, that’s fine.” She looked the wall up and down. She didn’t see any seams or obvious differences other than the floating text. “What is this?”
“This is your room’s personal delivery port. From here, you may order and receive a wide variety of items from our many shops and restaurants as well as send and receive packages with other guests.”
“Oh, so I can order room service from here?”
“That’s correct. Would you like to place an order?”
“Umm, yes, actually.” She perked up a little. Some food might help put her in a better mood, and she didn’t feel like leaving her room. “Got any ice cream?”
“We have a selection of exciting artisan desserts created nightly by our gourmet chefs, some of which include ice cream.”
“Pass.”
“We also have the full catalog of Flavor-Sparkle brand ice cream patterns available for your print-on-demand culinary pleasure.”
“Yeah, that sounds more like it. How about chocolate with big chunks of chocolate fudge in it? Got that?”
“I believe I’ve found a match for you. Is this what you’re looking for?”
A virtual glass bowl appeared in front of her, filled to the brim with rich, chunky ice cream and topped with a dollop of whipped cream and three Maraschino cherries.
“Yeah. That’ll work, but bigger and without all the frilly bits on top. Can I have a whole tub of the stuff?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what you mean by ‘tub.’”
“Oh, I was thinking a container this tall and this wide.” She gestured with her hands.
“That would be about six liters of ice cream. Is this correct?”
“Yeah,” she smiled guiltily. “I’m in a really bad mood.”
“Your order has been confirmed and placed in the printing queue.”
A picture and text description of her order appeared on the wall and a timer began ticking down the seconds. She’d have her ice cream in less than four minutes.
“Nice!”
“How else may I be of service?”
“Do you print out guns, too?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t provide that service.”
“Figured.” She shrugged. “Guess I have to go through Isaac for mine. That’s all I need right now, thanks.”
“It was my pleasure, Agent Cantrell.”
The display on the wall dimmed.
“Guess I’ll just window shop tonight.” Susan knelt against the wall by the delivery port and opened the catalog Isaac gave her. A list of over fifty pistols appeared before her. “Doesn’t seem so limited to me.”
She sorted by quantity in service and opened the top entry.
“Popular Arsenals PA13N burst pistol.” She skimmed through the entry. “The ‘Watchman,’ huh. Famous for its reliability and ease of use. Adjustable fire rate and spread pattern. Enhanced projectile auto-guidance. Nonlethal, though. Wonder what it shoots.” She opened the ammo detail popup. “Fires cased microbot colonies designed to infiltrate the target and render them sedate. Effective against organic targets and most—but not all—synthoid architectures. Hmm, sounds like a liability to me. Let’s see here…microbots include limited self-repli—nope! Not picking you!”
She closed the entry and filtered anything similar off the list. Then she browsed through the reduced list, hunting for the gun that spoke to her soul, but an oval opened in the wall before she found her new best friend. She reached up and grabbed a fat cylinder with the glittery Flavor-Sparkle logo on top and a big spoon stuck to the side.
“Guns and ice cream.” She smiled, cradling the tub in her lap. “The night’s looking up.”
She peeled the top open and spooned a chunky heap of ice cream and fudge into her mouth.
“Mmmmm,” she murmured contently, letting the creamy goodness melt away. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.”
She shoveled in a few mouthfuls, then paged down the list.
“Hmm, what have we here?” She opened the entry. “PA7 ‘Judicator’ heavy pistol. Lethal/nonlethal hybrid. Interesting. Can be loaded with up to three ammo types at once? How does that work?”
She pulled up a virtual model of the gun and spun it around.
“Oh, I see! You load this thing with three magazines. One in the grip, and two running parallel along either side of the barrel.” She closed the model. “Let’s see here. Ammo can either be automatically prioritized based on target or manually selected. Options include…” She opened the ammo list. “Just about anything, apparently. It’s versatile, so that’s a plus, but I’m not sure. Seems…overly complicated to me.”
She twirled the spoon around in circles, pondering her selection.
“Nah,” she declared at last. “Let’s see what else we have here.”
She’d worked her way through a third of the ice cream by the time she reached the bottom of the list. Nothing had jumped out at her on the way down, so she tried sorting by offensive power.
“Oooh,” she breathed. “Hello, sexy.”
She expanded the top entry.
“Popular Arsenals PA5 ‘Neutralizer’ anti-synthoid hand cannon. ‘When up against heavy armor, neutralize it!’” She smiled broadly. “Where have you been all my life? Let’s see here. Lethal against anything with an allergic reaction to big holes. Limited projectile auto-guidance.”
She stabbed her spoon into the ice cream, set the container aside, and opened the gun’s virtual model. The polished black finish of the long barrel gleamed in the room’s light.
“Hmm, I wonder.”
She reached up and caressed the surface with her fingertips. It felt real! She closed her fingers around the grip, and the surface adjusted to her hand, “pressing” against her virtual sense of touch. She turned the imaginary gun over, then sighted down the top.
“Simple and effective. Yes, I think we have a winner.”
She closed the virtual model, copied the pattern ID into a message, and sent it to Isaac with the caption: “I’d like to carry this one while on duty, if it’s all right with you.”