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Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 111/?]
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 22:57:40 +0000 UTC“Does this mean these interlopers could already be on their way here, Lysara?” Those words echoed through the already-tense air like a Lana fish wading through spring ice.
However, instead of a moment of dramatic silence or an appropriately intense response, the alien simply replied in his signature manner-of-fact tone of voice.
“There is little doubt that an interloper, or at the very least, an agent of the interlopers’ dominion has long since detected this signal; given their control over this swath of space.” He began with a simple nod, his alien sense of calm not really helped by the translator more or less ‘speaking’ on his behalf. “Though given the nonspecific contents of the signal, with there being precious little to extrapolate from it, it could also easily be overlooked as an errant broadcast or the result of a faulty network relay. The fact of the matter is, if the interlopers had already connected the dots between the signal and the existence of a rogue agent, they would’ve already intervened.”
“But that doesn’t mean they’re going to ignore it forever, right? As in, even if we do turn the broadcast beacon off, there’s no guarantee they won’t just check back on the source of the ‘errant broadcast’?” I promptly shot back, an intense creeping fear coloring my voice.
“It’s possible.” Lysara nodded warily, as he quickly began empathizing with my own latent concerns. “It’s better that we terminate the signal, of course. However, there is no guarantee that this would stop an interloper scouting mission. Simply put, we have no intelligence to work off of when it comes to the specifics of the interlopers’ operations. This errant signal could very well simply have been ignored, and by severing it today, following a few decades more decay in interplanetary space, there is a high likelihood that you would remain undiscovered. However, there is also a possibility that this errant signal could already have been logged in some far-flung database; which means it may only be a matter of time before a survey mission is sent to check on the source of that signal.”
Wariness, relief, then fear, filled my heart in that order.
“And there’s no way of knowing for sure now is there…” I managed out, desperately, despite knowing the response to that question.
“Correct, Evina.” The alien nodded.
A new, undeniably worse, sinking feeling started taking hold.
As my existential dread now grew beyond my own fate, but the fate of this entire planet.
I… had little investment in the future of my people.
But if we were to die off, I’d rather we died by our own hands, rather than by the whims of some faraway unfeeling, uncaring, completely univested third party.
I knew that my logic was weird, backwards, and messed up.
But that was just how I felt.
At least, in the current heat of the moment.
My rage over Eslan’s ‘creator’ was already messing me up.
This newfound fear over the fate of my entire planet, my entire people, was starting to tear my sanity apart at the seams.
“Evina.” Lysara interrupted, noting my sudden bout of silence. “There is a chance that we could intercept the signal.” The alien offered, though the tone of his voice, even through that translator, was enough to tell me that this offer was little more than just empty platitudes.
Don’t try that patronizing crap on me. I thought to myself.
“You don’t sound very confident about that, Lysara.” I offered instead, trying my best to not snap back at the alien despite every fiber of my being wishing to vent my frustrations onto something.
“Lysara’s right, Evina.” Vir suddenly interrupted. “It’s a process called trail scrubbing, and whilst energy intensive and highly dangerous, it is possible. Your signal hasn’t been broadcasting for too long, so we could intercept it.”
“Dangerous how exactly?” I quickly asked, jumping at the possibility.
“Well, if done incorrectly, it could lead to more eyes being drawn to the act of scrubbing than the signal itself ever could. Done correctly, there’s still the risk of someone discovering the perpetrators, thus putting us at risk. However, if everything goes right, it’s a relatively simple process.” Vir responded promptly, giving me some glimmer of hope throughout all this.
“Understood.” I nodded. “We’ll talk about this later then, alright? At least, until we’re done with… everything here.”
“Sounds like a plan, Evina.” Lysara responded promptly.
With a final nod from my end, and a deep breath to ground myself, I turned back towards Vir. “So, you got your answer. Addie confirms that the beacon broadcast was a result of a runaway Eslan-clone.” I shivered as I spoke those words, the concept not only still foreign, but disgusting to me. “I think that about wraps up the mystery of this place right?”
“Indeed.” Vir nodded. “This leaves just some points of clarification on the nature of their ‘benefactors’, but if we put our critical thinking hats on, the perp behind this whole facility is more or less obvious.”
“The moon-based intelroper?” I offered with a cock of my head.
“The moon-based interloper.” Vir and Lysara replied at about the exact same time.
“Right.” I nodded, just as another lightbulb moment suddenly hit me. “Wait, actually, there is something else we could poke and prod these two for.”
“Go on?” Lysara urged.
“You said that there seemed to be two distinct groups of astronauts on the moon, correct? Ones that tried to kill the interloper, and another group that tried to protect it?”
“That’s correct, Evina.” Vir replied.
“Well, back during my first iteration’s life, there were rumors of like… a secret shadow cabal government controlling things behind the scenes, as well as cultish ties to some global conspiracy disrupting the global order for some sinister purpose. Back then, stuff like that was disregarded as dumb conspiracy theory stuff. But now… what with this bunker, and your accounts on the moonbase… I’m thinking the rumors could actually hold some water.” I offered, prompting Lysara to nod with great interest.
“And that’s exactly why we brought a local guide with us.” He offered with a smile, gesturing for me to do my thing with the guilt-addled Addie.
“Addie?” I spoke through the speakers, prompting the AI to respond almost immediately.
“Yes, Evina?”
“Tell me more about the people behind this bunker. I want to know everything.”
=====
96 Hours After the First Round of Interloper Interrogations. Signal Station. Administration Wing. Just Outside of the Hidden Facility.
Vir
There were multiple points of interest which ran concurrently throughout this entire operation.
And whilst the Lysara and Evina front, along with the Cyberbeast front were taking up most of my attention, there was another front that required some increased allocated memory.
Eslan-secondary, as I tentatively registered him as within my databases, had remained silent all throughout my confrontation with the cyberbeast.
But whilst his whole body remained petrified, like a deer in headlights, his face told a completely different story.
There was palpable fear there, and one that continued to amplify the longer we sat out here.
So, not too long into my conversation with Lysara and Evina, I decided it was time to open up yet another front in this battle.
A front with the sole incarcerated ‘test subject’ within this otherwise empty facility.
“Hey.” I managed out, using one of the smaller, more generalist S-AMCP platforms to approach the Eslan clone. “It’s alright.” I continued, toning down my voice to go as soft as it could go. “You’re safe now, and no one’s gonna hurt you, alright?” I offered, using this platform’s faceplate as an avenue to double down on my friendly persona.
Organics, especially those in crisis, absolutely needed a ‘friendly face’, as my Captain used to say.
There was no response, at least, not at first.
So I gave him some space.
I used this new extension of my ‘self’ to further increase its approachability index by going through the process of ‘disarming’. A process in which a platform’s most ‘intimidating’ properties were subdued, which in this case, meant having it slump against the wall next to the Eslan clone; sitting down and laying down its equipment and weapons.
Pushing an organic into talking, as tempting as that would be for younger AI, was counterintuitive to sensitive interactions.
Some of my former compatriots would even joke that this was just a shortcoming of an organic’s inefficiencies and mind-bogglingly slow processing speeds owing to their wetware substrates.
And as much as that might be true, it didn’t stop the fact that the same care and attention needed to be given to a fellow sapient in need.
Because no matter if you’re running on an organic or synthetic substrate, your emotions, your feelings, your sense of self still mattered.
And it was only right to accommodate that whenever possible.
This gambit proved to be true, just five minutes later, and just as my confrontation with the cyberbeast was heating up inside the facility.
“Who are you?” Eslan-secondary tentatively asked, his voice was this nasally, almost child-like facsimile of the Eslan currently aboard the ship.
“I’m a lot of things to a lot of people. An explorer to some, a protector to others, but to you? I guess I’m playing the role of rescuer!” I offered through a wide ‘smile’, keeping my voice leveled, yet upbeat.
Eslan-secondary took a moment to process this, his features finally shifting from fear to confusion… then back to fear again, albeit a more toned down fear than before.
“But why?” He asked bluntly. “I don’t deserve to be saved.” He quickly added, those words hitting me hard.
I could have gone and directly addressed the elephant in the room, disassembling his faulty understanding of things… but that would be dictating the terms of rescue to him rather than having him accept it himself.
So I once again forced myself… to take it low and slow.
“And why do you say that, kid?”
“I exist to serve a purpose, one that existed long before me, and one that will continue long after I am gone. That purpose involves my adherence to the protocols and rules which have been set in place in order to facilitate a greater aim. My existence in and of itself is meaningless. I derive meaning solely from my service to the greater aim. If I can no longer serve my purpose, then I will no longer have a reason for existence. By interrupting my daily schedule, by removing me from the place where I should be, I have invalidated that sacred creed. I have, by every extent of the word, become redundant.” The Eslan-clone spoke in this almost… rehearsed manner, as if he’s had that creed drilled into his skull.
I took a moment to look around, to make sure to emphasize the ‘organic’ little quirks that come with body language, all to emphasize my next points. “Well… I don’t see anyone here enforcing that creed, kid.” I offered with a slight chuckle. “Now, supposing nothing did happen today, what would your life have looked like?” I pushed further.
“I would have lived… until such a time, wherein I pass on myself to the next in line.” He answered matter of factly.
“Alright then, and supposing you had a choice in the matter… would you have wanted to keep going like that? For days, weeks, months, and years?” I continued, maintaining that conversational tone.
“I… suppose.”
“And what if I told you, you didn’t? What if you had a choice? Let’s start small, forget the whole living until you pass yourself on stuff. What if say, Mondays aren't hall cleaning days? And what if I say… Wednesdays weren't countertop polishing days?”
“That would be of great relief, and a decent… break… I guess.” He acknowledged slowly.
“And what if I told you that you could choose when to take breaks, whenever you want, or when to work at all?”
“That’s impossible.” He countered with an exasperated breath.
“And why’s that?”
“Because to not adhere to the rules means assured death.”
“Who enforces these rules, if you don’t mind me asking?” I continued, nudging him slightly towards that end goal I had set forth.
“The caretaker.”
“Well he’s not here anymore.” I stated firmly. “Moreover, you no longer have to go back down there, ever.”
I allowed that to sink in for a moment, before promptly continuing.
“You can start to see why I used the word rescue, right?”
Eslan-secondary’s features shifted once again following that, as it grew from confusion, to quiet contemplation, to plain old disbelief, before finally evolving into one of shock and a growing sense of relief.
“So I don’t have to resume my schedule?” He asked politely.
“No, you don’t. Not now, not ever.” I reaffirmed.
“And… how long… how long can I just… sit here for?”
“As long as you like, as long as you want to.” I continued, reinforcing this brave new reality Eslan-secondary was being faced with.
“I… I’d like to just sit here for a little while longer, if that’s alright?” He tentatively asked, prompting me to nod affirmatively in response.
“Sure. Take as long as you’d like, kid.”
Comments
Alexander
Sebastian
Willow Arkan
We have found Eslan of the couch, he who sits.
David Betz
Bill the Cat? Ack! 😝
Patrick Booth
Bill
Michael Halpern
this clone is going to need a different name.
