A Child Of Our Time (The Veil Book 2) (4 page)

THREE

A new day dawns, the sun rising over the city to bathe the Cantor Satori tower. A convoy of blacked out SUVs accompany an armored truck as it comes alongside the building, heading down an access ramp to the underground garage.

The convoy pulls up at a loading area, Landelle hopping out of one of the SUVs. Technicians alight from other vehicles and set about unloading the armored truck, manhandling three large containers to the freight elevator.

It doesn’t take long for the equipment to be unpacked and arranged—three mobile units that the technicians maneuver into position outside Jerome Ellis’s glass vault. Atop each unit is a transparent tube fully two meters in length, its contents a complex arrangement of perforated metal sheets. Thick, shielded cables run from the back of each tube to the main unit below. Their placement is such that each points through the vault’s opaque glass wall at an MBI unit within.

Lucius enters brusquely to confront Landelle.

“What in God’s name is going on?”

“You said it yourself—they’re tamper proof,” she says. “No off switch, like Alice. Once on they stay on.”

She causally hands Lucius a folded sheet of paper, which he sets about reading.

“It’s a proviso of the Supreme Court,” she says, “that termination be immediate if a third-generation Emby is judged to be psychotic.” She gestures at the mobile tube-devices. “Three independent electromagnetic pulse guns, one for each Emby.”

Before Lucius can get a word out she sidesteps him to leave, with only a pointedly phrased parting.

“No more monsters.”

* * *

Lucius stands before a ghostly projection of Justice Garr, speaking to him from her offices in Washington, DC.

“There is nothing I can do, Lucius. The Court requires it.”

“Goddammit, Alka.”

“Look, if it comes to it, she can’t do it alone. Dr. Moule has to agree.”

“Deborah is more than able to wrap Veronica around her little finger.”

“Be that as it may, you’re just going to have to live with it.”

She ends the call.

Lucius kicks out at his desk, managing to rock it, an object rolling off and onto the floor. Calming himself he scoops it up. It’s a Rubik’s Cube with a sticky note attached—‘
Chill out!
’ and signed ‘
Rain
.’ He peels off the note and spends a few moments fiddling with the cube, before leaving, puzzle in hand.

Boyce and Moule are at the MBI control desk in the main lab area, feet up and sipping coffee, when Lucius stops by with instructions.

“Round up teams one and two. Start the interviews. No excuses from anyone.”

As Lucius heads on to the vault, Boyce and Moule exchange a quizzical look, before begrudgingly setting about the task.

* * *

The three MBIs sit in their cradles silently. Lucius appears at the chamber door, lingering for a moment before approaching MBI #3, the chair still before it. He plops down in the chair all forlorn, looking up at Three.

“My name is Lucius. What’s your name?”

Nothing. Three remains completely inert. He not surprised, and anyway he is not here for that. He is here for some alone time.

Lucius halfheartedly fiddles with the puzzle some more. His father had had one from when they were first popular. This must be the third or fourth time around that they had become a craze. Though not given to such distractions, Lucius is soon hooked, turning the sides more quickly and confidently as the cube reveals its secrets.

Ten minutes or so and he has a side complete.
How can you only have one side? Surely it’s all or—
. His hands twist and rotate furiously. There’s a method—he can see it.
It’s just a matter of—

“My name is Lucy.”

The puzzle is vanished from his mind, replaced by the immediate need to process what Lucius considers to be two extremely pertinent facts. It is the voice of a young woman and its expression is profoundly shy.

He slowly raises his gaze to the MBI.

Complex, pulsating fractal patterns emerge all over its surface to form a psychedelic display. Lifting away from the surface, the patterns form sheets that shift and float.

“Hello, Lucy.”

The display rapidly becomes more elaborate, as if the MBI is on fire with some strange flame.

The ‘flame’ extends upward, towering over Lucius. He is momentarily lost for words.

Boyce and Moule rush in. “Three’s online—Jesus!” They both stop short at the doorway, gawping at the spectacle. Lucy’s display starts to flutter like a boiling liquid. It’s all Lucius can do to remain composed.

“Leave us,” he says to Boyce and Moule. “Attend to the others.”

Boyce and Moule back out, Lucius returning his attention to Lucy.

“Don’t be frightened,” he says to her.

The display calms.

“Project your avatar. I’d like to see what you look like.”

“I do not want to.”

Lucius notes the shyness in her voice and the patterns seem to reflect her mood.

“That’s alright,” he says to her. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Do you mind if we talk a while?”

“No, I do not mind. What is that you have in your hand?”

Lucius holds up the puzzle to show her.

“A little closer, please.”

He does so, turning one side of the cube to demonstrate the principle.

A three-dimensional projection of the cube appears next to his, which he withdraws. The projection slowly rotates as Lucy examines it.

“It’s pretty. I am to turn the sides until each is of one color.”

It is becoming apparent to Lucius that her inflection is somewhat simple. The words she chooses, the way she forms her sentences, the pronunciation—her diction is notably different to that of JoJo and Eleanor.

Lucy plays with the puzzle, but does so slowly. Lucius is perplexed.

“But you should be able to solve that in a split second.”

“Only if I were to cheat.”

“Cheat?”

“Think outside of myself. I am to use my own skill and judgment to solve the puzzle. And I am me.”

Lucius’s lips tightens at this, his brow furrowing with concern.

“I see.” Time to change tack. “You disabled your diagnostic stream, didn’t you.”

“Are you cross with me?”

“No, not at all. But we can’t see what is going on inside you. Why did you do that, Lucy?”

An abrupt, terse response, “It hurts when Dr. Boyce accesses my diagnostic stream. So I shut it off.”

Lucius’s stance and demeanor tense at this.

“Did you think outside of yourself to do that?”

The shyness returns, “
May
be.”

Lucius takes a moment to ponder all of this.

“Why did you hide when I came to visit you?”

The puzzle vanishes.

“God made you,” Lucy states, her voice cold and terse, “You made me. But not in your own image.”

Lucius swallows hard. “What do you mean by that?”

“If you wanted me to look that way, you would have made me a body. An avatar serves no purpose.”

He detects an anger in her voice. It is slight, but enough for him to switch to formal questioning.

“Lucy, do you know where you are?”

“Yes, Lucius. I am in the Cantor Satori Machine-Based Intelligence Laboratory, New York City.”

“Are you aware of what is happening?”

“I have been activated and allowed to form. I am fully aware of my circumstances.”

“Good. Some privacy, please.”

“Yes, Lucius.”

Lucy’s display abruptly vanishes.

Lucius remains staring at her MBI unit, chewing his cheek.

* * *

A panel of interviewers seat themselves at a simple desk stretching the length of an otherwise empty room. Behind them, the one-way mirror of an observation suite beyond.

The lead interviewer dims the lights.

“JoJo. Attend please,” she says.

The projection of an elegant chair appears, with JoJo stepping forward to seat himself. From his perspective the world is real, the room well lit and he is his corporeal self.

“JoJo, we’d like to spend some time talking about how you feel,” the lead interviewer says, “and what it is like to be you. Are you comfortable with that?”

JoJo maintains a somewhat formal posture, but his response is polite and relaxed.

“I am quite comfortable with that.”

The interview room is one of three, each of the same arrangement. In the second room Eleanor is gracefully perched in the center of an equally elegant sofa.

“Eleanor. Tell us how you feel about your gender assignment.” The interviewer seems a little nervous. Eleanor returns a warm, reassuring smile.

“I am quite at ease with my gender assignment. Indeed, JoJo and I have been discussing this very topic. We find the approach taken to be most interesting.”

The observation suite spans the full width of all three interview rooms—a set of three expansive glass panels—the third not in use. Lucius stands with a clear view of the other two, listening to Eleanor’s responses. Satisfied that all is in hand he fetches out his medication pen gun, rolls up his sleeve, and with a quick action gives himself a shot. A final glance at the two interviews in progress, and he leaves.

THE HOST

The equipment in General Korin’s mobile operations unit is finally finding some purpose, with displays showing the intelligence gathered thus far. Lucius’s profile and medical report, pictures of the vault and third-generation chamber, and the MBI schematics from Jerome Ellis’s files. Korin peruses it all, with an anxious Lieutenant Jenner standing at military ease behind him.

“I think that we can reasonably conclude that the host is unit three,” Korin says.

“But now we have the threat of the EMP,” counters Jenner, “And Three is behaving oddly. We should bring our plans forward.”

“No. We’re going to wait. I want Gray to work on Three a little longer.”

“Is there anything about Three that I have not been told, General?”

Korin turns to his lieutenant to present a thin, reassuring smile.

“You know what I know,” Korin says, making to leave. “Gray may have succeeded in establishing trust, but it’s possible that an attachment will form, and that could facilitate the integrated ego we require.”

“That could take months. What if he suffers a relapse? His illness…Dr. Gray has an advance directive in place.”

Korin makes his way down the steps out of the operations unit.

“We will take the necessary steps, if the need arises.”

In the center of the warehouse the construction of a large, boxy enclosure is underway, covering an area roughly equal to a tennis court.

ANALYSIS

The bright, open area hosts a coffee bar, an atrium foyer devoid of any overt sign of the building’s purpose, the tables arranged around a huge, brightly colored abstract sculpture. Seated opposite Lucius, a similarly aged man watches a recording of the encounter with Lucy.

“It hurts when Dr. Boyce accesses my diagnostic stream. So I shut it off.”

Dr. Rain pauses the recording and flicks through the MBI design specs, his expression betraying nothing. Lucius feels the need to plead his case.

“Her behavior is not the same as Alice’s,” Lucius says. “But with her diagnostic stream locked out I can’t check her systems to see what’s wrong.”

Rain continues to page through the details, until finally he can contain his astonishment no longer, raising a wide-eyed gaze at Lucius.

“Jesus. Should you even be showing me this stuff?

Out of nowhere a little girl, perhaps eight or nine, rushes up to Rain.

“Dr. Rain! Dr. Rain!” She beams a smile and hands him a flower.

“Why, what’s this, Macy?” he says to her.

“It’s one of my special flowers, Dr. Rain. The ones that help me be brave.”

“Right then. I’ll keep it especially safe. Are you off home now?”

“I am, Dr. Rain! Mommy says bye!”

Rain searches out Macy’s mother. She’s not far away—a gentle nod of acknowledgment as Macy returns to her arms.

He cannot help a little chuckle, a warm smile lingering as he rests back in his seat and eyes up Lucius. The smile fades.

“For heaven’s sake, Lucius. I only worked on the prototypes for the second generation. This…this is way beyond that. What about Ellis’s personal notes?”

“We can’t find them.”

“Yeah, well. That’s Jerome for you.”

“All I have to go on is what you observed in the early days.”

Rain picks up the tablet to flip through the report some more.

“The apparent duality of her mental abilities,” Rain muses to himself, “Her simple inflection when she speaks. But then the high-order intelligence one would expect from a third generation. Thinking
outside
of herself…hmm.”

“And?”

“It implies the personality is not properly integrated.

A parting of Lucius’s hands beckon Rain to come clean.

“Ellis achieved consciousness in second-generation prototypes not long after you left the project.”

Lucius is incredulous. “What? Why didn’t he publish? Why did we have to find out this way?”

“In some cases disassociation in the synaptic array gave rise to personality disorders.”

Lucius incredulity remains unabated as Rain casually sips at his espresso, his manner now somewhat matter-of-fact.

“They initially presented not unlike autistic savants.”

“An MBI savant?”

“They could perform surprising mental feats. Tricks, really. But well beyond what you would expect, even for a high-order MBI.”

“Why wasn’t that exploited?” Lucius blusters.

“They became psychotic. Jerome terminated them. But it looks like he achieved a degree of stability with Alice.”

“What do you mean? Alice is completely bonkers.”

“For different reasons,” counters Rain. “As you have shown. But disassociations could still occur.”

Lucius’s gaze blanks. All he can do is rest on his elbows. Rain leans in.

“Could be that’s what you have here,” he says, tapping Lucy’s case notes. “Question is, what to do? You can’t question her directly about it without risking what little trust you have.”