Марта Уэллс - Network Effect

I know what a central system is, Thiago. (It was more outdated tech, like a HubSystem that did everything, with no subordinate systems. I hadn’t ever encountered one that wasn’t part of a historical drama.)

Overse leaned forward. “So how were the people killed? The ones who were affected by the contamination attacked the others?”

Thiago wasn’t nearly as annoying when he was being smart like this. He said, “Yes, though that sort of violent reaction to remnant contamination appears to be rare. But since so many of these incidents, historical and contemporary, are suppressed, we don’t actually know whether it is or not.”

Ratthi nodded agreement. “With the corporates being so secretive, it’s hard to tell.”

Overse said, “The only laws they all seem to recognize are about alien remnant discovery and interdiction, and the licensing restrictions for use of strange synthetics.”

“But why would alien remnants affect people like that?” Amena asked. “Is it intentional? Is it something that’s protecting the site, where the aliens didn’t want anybody else to take what was there?”

Ratthi took a breath, then let it out again. “I never thought so. I think it’s the same as if an alien person who had never seen anything like a terraforming matrix accidentally touched one and was poisoned. There’s no intentionality. Sometimes the contamination effects are as if different priorities are loaded into the affected person’s brain, like alien software running on human hardware. The result is chaos.” He gestured with a utensil. “But do we think the Targets are from the Adamantine colony? Or descendants of the Pre-CR colony? Or could they have come from outside this system?”

All indications suggest they came from within this system, ART said.

I said, “You’re having memory archive issues, how do you know who was or wasn’t onboard you? There could have been hundreds of corporate salvage groups and raiders and colonists and aliens—”

“SecUnit—” Arada started at the same time as Ratthi said, “I don’t think—”

ART interrupted, SecUnit’s earlier statement that I “lie a lot” was untrue. I obviously cannot reveal information against the interests of my crew unless circumstances warrant.

Arada nodded. “Right. We understand. I think SecUnit is looking out for our interests—”

ART said, I want an apology .

I made an obscene gesture at the ceiling with both hands. (I know ART isn’t the ceiling but the humans kept looking up there like it was.)

ART said, That was unnecessary .

In a low voice, Ratthi commented to Overse, “Anyone who thinks machine intelligences don’t have emotions needs to be in this very uncomfortable room right now.”

ART was suddenly in my feed, on a private channel. I did what I had to do. You should understand that.

I said aloud, “I’m not talking to you on the feed! You’re not my client and you’re not my—” I couldn’t say it, not anymore.

All the humans were staring at me. I wanted to face the wall but that felt like giving in.

I suddenly had views all over the ship. ART had given me access to its cameras. I snarled, “Stop being nice to me!”

Then Amena said aloud, “I think you need to give SecUnit some time.”

Right, that’s all this situation needed. I asked her, “Is it talking to you on a private channel?”

Amena winced. “Yes, but—”

I yelled, “ART, stop talking to my human behind my back!”

You know that thing humans do where they think they’re being completely logical and they absolutely are not being logical at all, and on some level they know that, but can’t stop? Apparently it can happen to SecUnits, too.

Arada got up from the table and held up her hands. “Hey, now, let’s stop this. It’s unproductive. Perihelion, you need to stop pressuring SecUnit. I know you’re upset about your crew and being deleted and this has all been terrible and confusing. But SecUnit is upset, too. Yelling at each other isn’t going to help.”

ART said, I was not yelling .

“Of course you weren’t,” Arada agreed, in the same reasonable tone Mensah’s marital partners Farai and Tano used when they talked to their younger kids. She faced the others. “We need to work this situation. Perihelion, if you could give us access to any other information your crew had on this colony, we’d really appreciate that. In the meantime, Overse and I are going to start collecting data on this alien thing that was on Perihelion ’s drive and see if we can’t help get the normal-space drive online any faster. Ratthi and Thiago, I want you to check out the deceased Targets and do some pathology scans. We also need a translation of what they were saying in SecUnit’s recordings. If we can confirm they’re descended from one of the two groups of human colonists, I think—Well, I think we’ll be able to make more effective plans. Amena, I’d like you to try to talk to Eletra again, see if you can get any more information out of her. I think it’s clear she’s been holding back, and now that she knows about the implants, she might be more forthcoming. SecUnit, maybe you could figure out what caused Perihelion ’s first reinitialization and how the Targets got aboard? I think we can all agree that having mysterious intruders invade Perihelion again is something we really need to avoid. Is everyone good with that? Perihelion, are you all right with this plan?”

ART said, For now .

Well, this was just great.

The humans started to disperse, Arada and Overse toward engineering, Ratthi going back to Medical to get the pathology suite ready. Amena helped Thiago clear the meal trays off the table. He touched her shoulder. “My daughter, are you sure you’re all right to speak to this corporate?”

“I’m fine, Uncle.” She was exasperated and did this shrugging shoulders-flopping arms thing that illustrated that very well. “I don’t think Eletra would try to hurt me. And she knows SecUnit is here. And ART.” She glanced at me, guiltily. “It said I could call it ART.”

Of course it did. I felt the hinge of my jaw grind.

Thiago squeezed Amena’s shoulder. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” Amena told him, already heading back into the prep area where the nearest recycler was. “I’m going to get her some fresh clothes, it’ll give me an excuse to go in there.”

Thiago looked at me and I looked at the wall. He said, “I want to thank you for everything you did for Amena.”

Was it grudging or was I just in a terrible mood? I don’t know, I have no idea, so I didn’t respond.

Amena came out with a packet of clothing from the recycler and I followed her down the corridor toward Eletra’s bunkroom. From ART’s camera view, Eletra had gotten up to get another container of water from the bathroom, so it was a good time for Amena to casually stroll in and offer the clothes.

Then ART secured a private channel with me and said, I don’t need your help .

That’s not what you thought when you kidnapped me, I told it.

I meant, you don’t have to speak to me if you don’t want to.

Fine, whatever, I don’t care. I said, Do you want the fucking help or not?

ART dumped its archive on me and I was immediately drowning in the giant mound of data that comprised its second-by-second status checks. Fortunately, after keeping track of the company’s shit-tons of mined data, I knew how to deal with it. I started by defining what the gap in ART’s memory archive might look like, which I was guessing would be a giant interruption in the constant incoming reports from subsystems like life support, navigation, etc. It was tricky, because for ART these were not like discrete reports from connected systems, but more like the sensory input I would get from the pads on the tips of my fingers. It was a lot more complicated than the way my own archives stored data. But once I had an idea of what I was looking for, I constructed a query.