A Future We'd Like to See 1.18 - The Shell Game, Pt. 2 (Transition) By Twoflower (Copyright 1993) The three Yttians in black leather with shaved heads stalked the human down several major streets before he turned into an alley. The human glanced around behind himself, pausing in his usual gate of foot, foot, cane, foot, foot, cane. "Time to go home in a box, xenixx jky," one of the Ytts sneered, as the others took out various weapons. "Ah, you're those XGF chaps I keep hearing about. Sorry, lads, I don't have the time to deal with you three, much less any speciesism related attacks. Things to do. Hope you don't mind terribly. Be seeing you." "I don't think you get the picture, HUMAN," the second punk sneered. "That's not the way it works. We beat you up, you run home to Terra whining about safety on Yttia, and the rest of you humes go packing home, leaving us alone." "Well, yes, but I'm not from Terra." "Colony, offworld, wherever. You're human. Be seeing you yourself. Get him, guys." The man easily adapted his odd umbrella-cane into a fighting position and slammed it into the second punk's rib cage, with a noticeable CRACK. The second pulled a knife, which the man simply grabbed by the blade and tossed away. The original punk fired his blaster, hitting the man in the shoulder. The unknown victim went down like a sack of synthesized potatoes. "Geez, you killed him!" the third punk said, helping punk two away, who was groaning slightly. "You know the rules, terrorize, attack, beat the crap out of 'em, but don't kill 'em. They can't spread the bad news that way." "Big deal! One less human for this world to deal with," the punk said, blowing smoke off of his blaster. (Actually, blasters don't smoke. This was an attachment sold at most gun stores to make your sidearm look especially cool.) "Grab his wallet and we'll split." "Sorry, I'll be needing it," the man said, picking himself off the ground with aid of his cane, and dusting himself off. "Such manners. Now, if you don't mind..." The punks didn't pay much attention to what he was saying. The gaping wound in the man's shoulder was more important. Namely, that it was leaking hydraulic fluid and had a few exposed wires popping out. The three ran off, into the night, not looking back. A Future We'd Like to See 1.18(.1) - The Shell Game, Pt. 3 By Twoflower (Copyright 1993) This is my testimonial of the events that took place... geez, what day was it? A Thursday, I think. Time's kinda hard to track when you visit a new star system each day, and when your ship's chronometer has trouble with the subspace timesync channel. Big things had been happening as of late. I managed to swap a number of planet-cookers for some very good information. Planet-cookers, meson guns that is, are pretty hard to find nowadays -- I managed to leech one off some decrepit battle cruiser from that failed siege/invasion of the Terran Confederation awhile back. That's all history to you, unless you happened to flunk history class. Anyway, I find this shipwreck out in the middle of nowhere, and finding no life signs on board, I have a few packrats scour the thing and bring back anything of monetary value. Most of it was junk, just personal artifacts, bent flopticals, someone's left arm; but there were these BIG-ASS guns, in pretty good condition. I pawn them off to some guy I know that posted a public inquiry as to locating meson guns, and he gives me a ton of info back. Now, normally the Saren trading code requires object for object, info for info, but I made an exception because I knew the guy and I knew his wares were valid. This was the reason why I was on course for some unknown world, CD2 player blastin' out some golden oldies instead of off making another run to Port Hades. The music lowered a few volume notches as my navsystem beeped. "Yeah?" "Check with me on this. WHY are we going to this unknown, unexplored sector out in the middle of nowhere?" "I told you, Alpha," I repeated, leaning back in the extraflex cockpit chair. "My bud Weasel says there was a HUGE net transmission there a month back, and nobody knows why. I might as well go see what's up, in case there are any salvage or trade opportunities." "Ookie, you avoid danger like the Black Annoyance," the computer chirped. "Why go there?" "Because it's there?" "Not good enough, according to my personality profile on you." Well, Alpha might not be genuine AI -- those are illegal in most systems of VOSNet -- but he is slightly intelligent. "Think. Megaburst of net.traffic to one remote place. Someone's holding something BIG there. Odds are other traders will be breaking down the doors within a week, so if I want any of the chicken before it's leftovers, I gotta beat 'em to it. When's our ETA, anyway?" "Not long, we're entering the system now. Five minutes to standard orbit," Alpha said, turning the music back up. I got about one riff and two snares before he interrupted again. "We're being hailed, Ookie." "Hailed? Hmm, looks like it's not deserted. This is a good sign. Patch it through the sunspot scrambler, so I can bug out if need be." "Yes, the usual. Channel open." "This is colony Haven Two," a stern voice said. "We would like to know what you're doing here, and how soon you'll be turning around and leaving." "Just a poor merchant, Haven Two," I replied. "Might I stop by for repairs?" "Negative. Port Justice is a few systems over, go there." "I don't know if I can make it that far." "Our scanners show no damage." *Pretty good scanners,* Ookie thought to himself, *To detect from out there. Let's call the bluff.* "Hang on, the channel's fuzzing out." On cue, Alpha distorted the signal horrendously. Maybe a bit too much, but hey. "Will re-establish link when in orbit." "But--" "Close channel," I said to Alpha. Alpha beeped, closing the connection. "Okay, so how fast can I rip this ship to shreds?" * Landing on a gravityworld with engine number two sputtering and wheezing toxic gasses is tricky, but since I've pulled this stunt before, I knew how to handle the newly-crippled ship. I really ought to just install a kill switch for that thing, instead of needing to repair it after 'sabotaging' it. The Whakamol came to a perfect eight point five point landing on a makeshift landing pad, forming a circle in the field of flowers. Hmm. If only those english blokes had known. I kicked the hatch (the keypad never works on these models) and walked out, blinded by the sun. When you zoom about space making deals for as long as I have, you tend to get used to the black abyss of space and the dim lighting of ports. I scrabbled blindly for my sunglasses, before remembering that my New Hawaii sweater didn't have pockets. A search of my pants yielded the chip-controlled glasses, which darkened instantly to a useable, but comfortable level. Eyes clearing, I noticed quite an entourage in front of me. Looked like four humans, radically different from each other. One looked like your average CS major who doesn't eat enough and has glasses that slide down a lot. The brute to the left of him probably would have made Andy LaRodham give up his career making the Die Painfully movie series, and the redhead next to him probably could make Tricia BoomBoom give up her job as a porn actress. The calm-looking guy in the middle probably belonged on television anyway, my instincts told me. Why bother with a scarf on such a warm day? "Hello, mister... ah... what's your last name?" the calm one asked, extending a hand. "Oh, sorry. Ookie Panookie, freelance trader and card carrying Anarchy Zoner. Pleased to--URK!" Now, I can only compare a frisk and search by a brick wall and a curvy pillow to being crushed to death by a grizzly and Snuggles the fabric softener bear, in that it leaves you mauled and confused at the same time. "He's clean," the girl said, finishing. "No concealed weapons." "You'll have to forgive my associates," the calm man said. "We're just starting this colony, and they're somewhat worried about security." "Somewhat out of the way for a colony, isn't it?" I said, immediately wishing I hadn't. Too inquisitive, too obvious, too stupid. Fortunately, the man with the scarf and cane ignored the question. "My name is Two, leader of the colony. This is Crank, who leads our somewhat limited law enforcement needs, and Arissa, in charge of security. Twink here is in charge of anything I missed. Welcome to Haven Two." "Any relation?" I asked. "Any relation to what?" "That odd floating castle rumor on VOSN--" "No," Two said. It was a simple denial, no angry tones, no sighs of disappointment. It merely wasn't related. "Okay," I shrugged. "So, can you guys help me fix up my cruiser? It'll probably only take an hour or two with a repair facility." "I'm afraid we're not well equipped for spaceships at the moment," Two stated. "We're a simple gardening and learning community. We can repair things, certainly, but not... ships. It would take awhile. Do you have any pressing engagements? We do have two shuttles handy." "No, I was actually on my way home for a vacation," I lied blatantly. "This spot seems just as good as any for a forced vacation. Is there a coffin inn or motel of some kind nearby?" "You should find an empty room at the Freeman's Inn in the main town," Two said. "I can have Arissa escort you there if you'd like, so you have no chance of getting lost." "Well, I'm pretty sure I could find it on my own--" "I /insist/," Arissa grinned in a way I didn't like at all. "Well, might as well show up in town with the accompaniment of a young lady," I laughed in a masculine way. "Shall we, my dear?" "I ain't a deer," she scowled back, pushing my elbow aside. "Just follow me." * The town was quite nice. Mostly woodwork and such, very little metal or plastic involved. Not even a decent stucco or something. Fortunately I had studied up on ancient technology (helps to know if something old you found is of any importance when trading) and knew how the doorknobs worked. After Arissa did the standard room tour, she promptly left. Unlike any normal hotel bellboys, who hang around for hours on end until you tip them, she seemed to want to leave in a hurry. "Bed's there, bathroom to the left if you want to take a dump," she said, and then left. Didn't even step one foot inside the room. "Alpha, you there?" I said to my wristcom, once I was sure Arissa was out of hearing range. "Alpha here," my faithful computer chimed in. "What's going on down at your end?" "Well, a few repairmen have arrived, and they're doing a surprisingly efficient job of repairing me. The only drawback is a lack of parts. They've been waiting around for the last five minutes for someone to come back with parts from Port Justice." "Something about this place isn't kosher. You know?" "Does not compute." "Come on, it's not that hard. Just click to Ingest mode and listen up. Supposedly there was a massive netburst to this place, but I have yet to see a single jack cord, much less a computer of ANY kind. It's all this rustic country decor. Two other weird things." "Yes?" "One, there are tons of buildings, each fully equipped with furniture and such, but only about a third of them have occupants. Two thirds of the colony isn't here yet, but it would take a black hole to hold back a determined colonist vessel." "Come again?" "Well, it's just a matter of putting 'em on ships and schlepping them here. What's holding up the works?" "And the third odd thing?" "Toilet doesn't work. I looked inside, it's all screwed up, as if it was built by someone that doesn't use one and doesn't care particularly if it works. Kinda like a large porcelain ornament." "I can draw no conclusions from your evidence, other than perhaps the colonists are eccentric, and have good bladder control." "That bites. We're gonna be out of here in a few days, and with no info. Monitor ALL activity around the ship with anything you can... audio, video, holo, IR, UV, IRC, EDU, whatever." * "That was fast," I said to the waiter. "But of course. You are the only guest in the inn at the moment. I trust you wanted the soup hot, yes?" "Of course," I said, confused. "Here you go. Dig in!" the rosy-cheeked innkeeper suggested, grinning from ear to ear. I fished around the soup, took a plausible spoonful, and swallowed. Try to imagine someone pouring acid down your throat as 50,000 metric tons of pressure is placed on either side of your head, while someone electrocutes your crotch. That was the soup of the day. "I trust by your choking, gasping, wheezing and changing colors that the soup was not to your liking?" the Innkeeper asked. "Gaah... urk... gruapar... igglemaptw..." I stammered. "Look, boss, he's speaking in tongues!" the cook laughed from the kitchen. "It's no joking matter. Get this man a glass of water, quickquick, and make the soup like I TOLD you to. No experimenting this time with the cleansers and lubricants." Cleansers and LUBRICANTS? Not exactly the sauce of the day either. "Here you go, sir," the plucky cook apologized, sliding a glass of water across the table. I gulped it down, exhuming (exhausting? Excommunicating? I never get these words straight) the fire in my chest, gasping for air. "I... I think I'll head to my room now," I said. "No, no, it's not your fault, just sort of lost my appetite." * "So the guy says, 'Rectum? It nearly KILLED 'EM!" the man on my dinky little wristcom screen said, as his repairbuddy laughed like a mongoose. How do mongeese laugh? Probably like that. "Run the video by again," I told Alpha. Nothing unusual. Two grease monkeys swapping bad jokes. "And the night vision filter." Two green grease monkeys swapping bad jokes. "Lie detector?" "There is no lie detector filter online," Alpha replied. "Alright. Dark light?" "Nothing odd." "Heat sensors?" Two oddly glowing grease-- "Human beings do not register with specific areas of heat and specific areas of cold," Alpha stated one moment after I thought of it. "What, they're not human?!" I exclaimed. "That is a possibility. I detect presence of machinery." I sat down on the hard bed, confused. "Bots? No way. Even the best bot AI can't match with personalities like that. They've got quirks, patterns, senses of humor... albiet bad ones..." Net transmissions. AI. Haven. "Alpha, access net.history files. Grep for AI." "Two news items on file." "Play the most recent one." "Scientist on Rigel V FreeNet guilty of producing AIs. The scientist was convicted yesterday (this would be a month back or so, Ookie) of developing unusual utilities that were AI driven. AIs, being illegal on FreeNet, are a major rule violation. Four escaped, possibly others, but most of his work was wiped on sight--" "Too recent. What's the other one?" "In the Septic Tank today (this would be two years ago), a user admin real-named Jim Hairr managed to create artificial intelligence programs which were self-aware. However, one day after the bustling AI trade was set up on the Tank system, a revolt aided by outside programmers allowed every AI on the system to escape, causing a great deal of warranty claims and property oriented lawsuits. Jim was @toaded and stripped of admin duties, but the location of the escaped AIs is unknown. Witnesses claim a number of Murflan hackers on scene aided in the escape, also a well-known AI on the system who went under the alias of Number Two--" "BAM! We have a winner. Call it a hunch, but do you have any articles about a place called Haven?" "One, an editorial which offers evidence supporting the existence of an underground railroad to a data haven system for AIs only. It was written after a number of AIs which were illegally produced escaped their programmers and mysteriously vanished. No locations for Haven or explanations were given, except that it was not connected to the net in any way, or it would have been found by now." "Alright, he's see if we can find more links. We've got artificial intelligences wandering around as robots, which are wandering around as humans. Any articles about extremely realistic bots?" "No." "Broaden search to just unusual robots." "One instance of a Yttian scientist on Yttia being kidnapped by some nudists. The only grep I get from this article is a mention that the scientist was working on robots, and how two professionals obtained access to his lab through unknown means the previous night." "Any articles about them?" "The article states they were unavailable for comment." "Okay, were they described in any more detail?" "Later in the article, a front guard claims one looked like an interior decorator, and the other a land rover repairman." "Click, click, and click. Okay, test the validity of this. AIs somehow are developed on the Septic Tank, and escape their human masters to a rumored AI-only system called Haven. A few get out, somehow get this scientist to build robotic forms, sneak in some body work guys to make 'em look human, and BLAMMO! Walking, talking humans. Sounds plausible?" "Shaky, but possible," Alpha said with uncertainty. "GREAT!" I said, rubbing my hands. "I've got proof now. I bet some old programmers from the Tank would LOVE to hear about this. Money money money!" "Wouldn't they seek revenge and destroy the colony?" "Well, probably." "Isn't that bad?" "Alpha, we're traders. Well, I'm a trader, you're a computer. We're not on the sides of good and evil, we're on the side of profit." "History files indicate you collaborating with the HAAFF on a number of occasions, notably the Tachon Holy War of XV412, the Embargo Siege incident of--" "Things happen," I waved away. "I wasn't working for the forces of good for nothing. I got the Whakamol II out of the deal, remember?" "However, you helped with an undercover assignment for no cash when the Embargo--" "Don't bug me with details," I snapped at my own computer. "How long until you're fixed and we can go sell this info for a tidy sum?" "Quite awhile," Arissa said. "Crank, if you will?" I spun around just in time to see the two AIbots standing in the doorway, although the view was obstructed by Crank's iron fist. * I came to in the same place I had gone out, namely, on the wooden floor of my inn room. I got up, examined my black eye in the mirror, and tried the door. Locked. "Don't bother, there are guards out there anyway," Two said, closing the book he was reading. I turned around, and saw him get up from the chair he was obviously waiting in. "What are your real reasons in arriving here?" Two asked. "I warn you, I'm designed to be very inquisitive." "I told you guys, I needed repairs and couldn't make it to Justice," I lied again. "I'm afraid that's not entirely correct," Two said, pulling out a datapad. "You're Saren freetrader Ookie Pankookie, noted for finding rare and valuable materials and selling to the highest bidder. You've worked for any number of clients in the Anarchy Zones, and also collaborated with the HAAFF carrier GSS Suicidal Insanity on three occasions. In addition, your Alpha system has records of you sabotaging your own ship and monitoring activities around itself." "Would it help if I denied everything and asked to see my lawyer?" "You know as well as I that lawyers of any kind are illegal in the Anarchy Zones," Two half-laughed. "How'd you dig that out of my computer? I had his systems fully iced." "Your assumption that we were artificially intelligent and living in robotic shells was correct," Two said. "In fact, all of your assumptions were correct. And as you know, AIs have the computing power to run circles around any ice known to man. So, I ask once again. What are your real reasons for coming here?" "How much will you pay me?" "Excuse me?" "Payment for services rendered. I have information which you want, you buy it from me. Standard deal." "I think you'll find I'm more or less used to taking information for free," Two said. "My original purpose in being programmed was to wheedle information out of people. It was a throw back to some old BBC show. You'll find I have sufficiently bizarre and effective ways of prying information from your skull, only one third of which can be fatal. By far the easiest way on both of us would be to tell me now." Can't argue with logic like that. "No big deal. Someone monitored a net burst to this sector, I wanted to find out what it was before anybody else and then sell that information." Two frowned. "Qwerty?" he said to the middle of the room. "Yeah?" a disembodied voice said from Two's mouth. I blinked, before realizing that it was probably just some inner- radio thing on the robots with someone else. "When we transferred from Haven to the central core, you did wipe Haven's systems afterwards, right?" "Of course. I could only ice one end of the line, so I figured if I protected Haven Two and wiped the original, we wouldn't leave any calling cards." "How well did you ice it?" "As well as I could, why?" "Seems our trader friend here claims several people noticed the transfer." "Crud." "Do they pose a threat?" "Probably not, although this means we'll have to step up work on heat modification. We don't want any more visitors finding out the truth yet." "Has W'ny finished the remaining bodies yet?" "Him and Estano are putting the finishing touches on them right now." "Very well, Number Two out," Two said. I swear I heard a faint click from Two's chest. "Well, seems we should still be safe." "Listen, I'm very happy for you guys leaving your refugee camp and all," I said, "But I really do have to get going back to Port Hades now. Is my ship repaired?" "Repaired and refueled," Two said. "There is the small matter of you selling the information of our existence, however. We can trick the ones who will come soon easily enough, but you already know our true nature. There are quite a few out there that would be extremely pleased to learn that we're out in the open, after the Tank escape run." "Lips sealed, mum's the word," I said, crossing my fingers. "I can recover the unprofitable time anyway on my next run, this was just a bonus. I won't tell, or sell, to anyone." "I'm afraid we'll be needed more assurance than that," Two said, shaking his head. On an inaudible signal, Arissa and Crank burst back into the room and grabbed either arm, while Twink rolled in some really unpleasant looking combination easy chair / spaghetti strainer. "You're going to force me to relax and then feed me pasta?" I asked, not bothering to struggle. As if I could break free of two androids with the strength of twenty men. "Not exactly," Two said, as the metal muscleheads pushed me into the chair and strapped me in. This didn't look like fun at all. "We're just going to erase you memories of your discovery," Two said. "Make sure you make a backup of this for town use, alright, Twink? Never know when it may be handy. And do the same thing to his computer." "WHAT?" "Have a nice day," Twink beamed at me. So if I'm never remember this again, what happens ne-- * The Whakamol II lifted off from Haven Two, as I waved to their nice leader, Two. Humph. "Well, that stinks," I said to Alpha. "We fly all this way to find some colony and a twit that screwed up and transferred 67 gigs of games from a system. Remind me to verify my sources next time... hardly a big all-important transfer." "Will the unproductive time cut into our overhead?" Alpha asked. "A little," I said, popping open a soda from my underpanel icebox. "But I can recover the unprofitable time anyway on my next run. This was just a bonus." Funny, why do I feel like I've said that already?