Warp rinse repeat, p.11
Warp, Rinse, Repeat, page 11
“You’re right!” Vanti sings out. “Part of being a ‘self-aware digital being’ is coming to terms with the concept that others might gossip about you.”
O’Neill stops with a jolt. “She’s a true AI?”
“As far as we can tell, she’s actually self-aware.” Vanti grits her teeth in a nervous frown. “Scary, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like seeing your expressions when you’re gossiping about me, Vanti,” India says. “That’s just mean.”
“Then stop watching me. You don’t have to be here.” Vanti waves a hand around the compartment. “Go somewhere else.”
“I’m everywhere!”
“I thought you said she’s in the shuttle?” O’Neill pulls me through the door and into the lounge.
Vanti leans against a counter, ignoring the plush couch and luxurious armchairs. “Her memory modules are in the shuttle. But she has hooks into the ship’s OS. We’ve been trying to teach her the ethics of requesting permission for that kind of thing. She gets it but doesn’t always follow through.”
“Like a toddler.” I sit and relax into the impossibly comfortable chair. It adjusts to my body, tilting back to the perfect angle and lifting my feet. “I could live in this chair,” I say aloud.
Arun appears in the doorway, chuckling. “Like the people on the floaty chairs in that Ancient TēVē vid!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Arun walks into the Ostelah’s lounge, arms outstretched. I lean forward, trying to get the chair to let me up, but it stubbornly stays in maximum comfort position. Arun laughs at whatever he sees in my face and extends a fist to me. “Don’t bother getting up. I know how the Relaxation Vortex works.”
I knock my knuckles against his. “Is that what this chair is called? I need one of these.”
My cousin shakes his head. “Are you sure? It’s really hard to leave.”
“I don’t have a job anymore, so why not?”
“What happened? Did the Ice Dame finally admit she doesn’t want to give up control?” Arun sits on the edge of the other chair, keeping his feet planted firmly on the deck.
I sit up in surprise, and the chair reforms to support my new position. “Is that what this is about? I can live with that. I thought it was because I was doing a bad job.”
O’Neill’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “I think he’s on to something. It was never about you.”
“Why didn’t we have this conversation two days ago?” I glance back at O’Neill then glare at Arun. “It could have saved me a lot of stress.”
“Because we were on Lewei two days ago?” Arun says slowly.
O’Neill gives my shoulder a squeeze, then crosses to the sofa. “You were, but you weren’t. We have a crazy story to tell you.”
Arun rises. “Cool. You want a beer to go with that? I have some Astrobräu in the fridge.”
“Sounds good. I’ve been wanting to try that. We ordered food.” O’Neill drops onto the sofa with an appreciative groan. “If that chair is even a fraction as comfortable as this couch, we’re buying a whole new suite of furniture.”
With beers distributed to the others, and a non-alcoholic version for me, O’Neill and I tell our tale.
“This sounds amazing!” India says as we get to the present moment. “I love the ‘Whirlpool of Time’ episode of Galaxy Cruisers—”
“Helva, I thought you were going somewhere else.” Vanti frowns up at the overhead.
“It’s India now. And you’re talking aloud, so I figured it was fair to join the conversation.” She sniffs. “But if you don’t want me here—” She breaks off, clearly begging us to say she can stay.
“We don’t.” Vanti sips her beer then relents. “We don’t want you here unless we know you’re here. If you want to be treated like a person, you need to behave more like one and less like a net troll or—”
“Or CCIA spy?” India suggests sweetly.
Arun covers his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to hide a laugh.
“Touché. But I never spy on the people aboard the ship.” Vanti draws herself up primly.
“Except on our trip to Lewei. And that time—”
“Never mind. You’re right, I need to do better, too. Except when we have potential enemy agents aboard. We both need to do better.”
I widen my eyes at O’Neill. Is Vanti admitting she’s not perfect? And when did she learn the mom-style negotiating skills? Maybe Elodie is rubbing off on her. I remember hearing her use similar arguments on Leo. And Kara.
“I saw that,” Vanti and India say together.
“Jinx!” India yells. “You owe me a Coke.”
Vanti covers her face.
“What’s a Coke?” O’Neill asks.
“Dinner is here!” India sings out. “Do you want to allow the food bot on board, or does someone want to grab it in the airlock? If I had my own repair bot, I could use it for this kind of thing, too.” The last part comes out kind of whiny, like a teen trying to convince their parent they deserve their own shuttle.
Arun rises. “I’ll get the food. And we’ll talk about a repair bot later, Hel—India.”
“Why does she need a repair bot?” I wiggle a bit, trying to swing my legs down, but the chair stubbornly refuses to move.
“It responds better to natural movements, Triana,” India says. “You’re trying too hard. Sit up naturally.”
“I’m not sure I can do that anymore.” I pat my stomach and try again. This time, the chair rotates my feet to the ground. “Hey, that was easy!”
“And to answer your question, I need a repair bot because I have no hands! If I’m broken, I can print my own replacement parts, but if there aren’t any soft shells to help, I can’t install them.”
“Soft shells?” I repeat.
“That’s what she calls humans.” Vanti gives the overhead her patented stink-eye. “So attractive.”
“It’s better than meat bags.” India snickers. “Or fleshbots.”
The door opens again, and Arun pushes in a float panel loaded with stasis dishes. “How much food did you order?”
“My wife is eating for four,” O’Neill says in a pious tone as he rises to help Arun unload the panel.
“It sounds better when I say it,” I grumble.
Vanti touches the low table positioned between the couch and chairs, and it rises to a dining height. My chair adjusts to match. O’Neill describes the dishes in a credible imitation of Iraleta, and we decide to share the food family style so everyone can taste everything.
“Skip the Asond noodles.” I point my fork at the offending dish. “They’re kind of bland.”
“According to the net, Asond noodles are supposed to be bland,” India says wistfully. “I wish I could taste them.”
“If you’re going to wish you could taste something, skip the noodles and make it the chocolate cake.” I tap one of the still-covered stasis dishes.
“That makes no sense,” Vanti says under her breath.
“It does.” India’s tone lightens. “I appreciate the advice, Triana.”
After everyone has loaded their plates, we enjoy the food in silence, except for India’s whispered comments about how good everything looks and how fortunate we are to be able to taste it.
“Hel-India, I’m sorry you can’t eat, but you’re ruining the experience for everyone.” Vanti folds her arms, a disappointed frown on her face. “Please stop whining.”
India snickers. “Another meat bag emotion unlocked! Oops, sorry, I mean, I’ll behave, Mom.”
Vanti’s glare darkens.
Under the edge of the table, I flick my holo-ring and initiate a call to the ship. “Hey, India.”
“Ooh, this is cozy! To what do I owe the honor of a private call?” India’s chipper tone is back.
“Look, I know you’re really smart. And you don’t strike me as being mean. Do you think you could stop baiting Vanti? We’re probably going to need her unique expertise, and I don’t want her all stressed out from all this…” I leave it hanging. I’m not really worried about Vanti, but the idea of a mean AI loose in the galaxy is scary.
“You’re right. I should be nicer. I’ve been reading a bunch of ethics books lately. Do you think AIs should be bound by human ethics?”
I gulp. “That’s way outside my field of expertise. And probably bigger than a side convo at a dinner party. But I think if you want to interact with a community, you should conform to their standards. And for most humans, kindness is a high priority.”
She hums for a moment, as if considering my words. “Kindness. I can be kind. As long as I’m allowed to be snarky once in a while.”
“It would be a boring world if we weren’t.”
“Cool. Thanks, T.” The call ends.
“What do you think, Triana?” Arun asks.
All three of them are staring at me.
I consider prevaricating, but that never ends well. “Um, about what? I was chatting with India.”
Arun points at me. “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”
“Hey, I am not the one who brought an AI to the party.”
Vanti chuckles. “She’s got you there. Arun suggested Helva—”
“India!” the ship snaps.
“Sorry. He suggested India should have a visual signal that tells people when she’s listening.”
“Like a flashing sign?” I raise a hand and slide it sideways to indicate a banner. “India is in the building!”
O’Neill snorts. “That would work. But we were thinking something a little bit less flashy.”
An idea sparks in my brain. “We’re talking about inside the ship, right?” I wait for their nods, then gesture at the empty space beside me. “How about a hologram? Like that salesperson in that weird shop. She can pick a human form she likes and project it in whatever room she’s—”
A voluptuous blonde appears beside me. She wears a form-fitting, low-cut blue gown reminiscent of Gloria’s dress this morning. A long slit shows off spectacular legs and ridiculously high heels. Her deep brown eyes are surrounded by impossibly long and dark lashes. “What about this?” India’s voice comes out low and sultry.
While everyone gapes at her image, it dissolves and becomes a big-eyed, purple-haired waif that looks like a refugee from a children’s vid. The voice becomes high and squeaky but still recognizably India’s. “Or this?” She skips around the table, then returns to her spot next to me and fades out.
A huge, muscle-bound man with a flat-top haircut, decked out in black like Vanti wears on a recon mission—not to be confused with the black shirt and leggings she’s wearing now—replaces the child. “I like this one.” The voice is deep and has that gruff, Ancient Earth accent everyone likes to imitate. “Ostelah Veesta, baby.”
I point at the 12-pack clearly defined under the tight black shirt. “Definitely this one.”
O’Neill and Arun both make dissenting noises while Vanti nods appreciatively. India laughs and the man disappears. The original blonde, this time with a smaller bustline and a flowered dress with a modest neckline and full skirt takes his place. “I think I’ll stick with this. Maybe with braids.” The long, flowing hair folds up into an intricate hairstyle. She curtseys. “Nice to meet you all.”
We all mutter something. India turns to Vanti. “Now I can be a bridesmaid!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
My jaw drops, and O’Neill goes still like a statue. Vanti and Arun both suddenly find their plates extremely interesting. The silence in the Ostelah’s lounge is deafening.
I find my voice first. “Bridesmaid? Are you… getting married?”
“You didn’t tell them?” The blonde bombshell projection of Helva Two/India sits on a chair she just hologrammed into existence, leaning across the table to pin Vanti with an intense stare. “I thought Griz was your best friend?” Her tone implies she should be Vanti’s bestie.
Vanti jerks as if poked, and her gaze jumps to O’Neill’s. “He is. We…” She glances at Arun. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Except me,” India says smugly.
“You were eavesdropping when it happened.” Vanti turns her glare on the blonde. “Which, if you want to be considered a person, you can’t do anymore.”
India draws herself up, elongating the projection to make herself taller than even Arun. “I would never—”
“Indignation is a powerful emotion, but you have to sell it.” I poke my fork at India, then into my dinner. “You’re overdoing it.”
India sags in her chair. Then she blinks eyes now brimming with tears and turns them on Vanti. “I’m sorry if I—”
Vanti slashes a hand through the air, cutting her off. “Nope. Being a person means being authentic. Not just mimicking emotions to get what you want. That’s what a sociopath does.”
The blonde and her chair fade from view, and India’s voice goes softer. “I really am sorry. I’m trying to learn. Empathy is hard.”
I smirk at Vanti. “Look at you, talking about your emotions!”
“Technically, she was talking about India’s emotions.” O’Neill flashes a smug grin at Vanti.
“I want to talk about the wedding!” India reappears beside Vanti. “And you do, too.” The enthusiastic blonde turns to me. “You need to see the dresses we—”
“Helva.” Arun’s quiet voice cuts through the AI’s excited warble. “India. Wedding dresses are Vanti’s. You can give her ideas, but you can’t share with others unless she okays it. We talked about this.”
Vanti turns to Arun, her gaze softer than I’ve ever seen. “You did? That’s so sweet.”
I turn to O’Neill whose jaw is hanging loose. “Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”
“There are no flies on SK2,” he says in a dazed tone.
“We aren’t on SK2,” India says. “And I really would like to talk about wedding dresses. There’s this one…”
“Hey, I’m sorry to derail this conversation, but Ty and I have a bit of a problem, and we’re hoping you can help us with it.” I send an apologetic frown at India. “It’s a bit more… time-sensitive than Vanti and Arun’s wedding.” I turn to the happy couple. “I assume. You’re not getting married tonight, right?”
“No.”
O’Neill nudges me with his elbow. “You know that. They didn’t even mention it yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Vanti visibly switches from gushing bride—okay, not really “gushing” but at least enthusiastic—to competent agent. “We didn’t talk yesterday.”
“Actually—”
I’m only half-way through the explanation when I wake up on the floor of my bedroom.
O’Neill peers over the edge at me. “You okay?”
“Do you think you could, I dunno, maybe not let me fall next time?” I push to a sitting position.
“Good morning, Sera Morgan! Today—”
“House, cancel!” O’Neill growls. The house obeys him. I need to learn how he does that.
He turns back to me. “How do you know I didn’t poof into re-existence after you fell?” Soft teasing underlines his question, which is belied by the cup of coffee he picks up from the bedside table.
I point. “Because you had time to do that. And the first morning, you were at the office when I woke up.”
He hands me a second cup. “True. I’ll try tomorrow, but you didn’t give me any advanced notice. One moment you were sleeping peacefully and the next, boom! On the floor.”
“Maybe you should wake me up before I fall.”
He wags a finger. “No way is that happening. I do not poke the drahgin.” Before I can retort, he’s out of bed and on his way to the shower. I follow him into the bathroom and shut the door.
Don Said calls O’Neill to the office, right on schedule.
Wrapped in my fluffy robe, I trail him to the door. “You don’t have to go. There’s no repercussions.”
“Until there are. At some point you’re going to figure out how to fix this, and then the consequences come to roost.” He pulls me in for a long, slow kiss then releases me.
“When I figure it out, we’ll wait for the day to restart before we implement the fix.”
He chuckles. “You say that like you’re going to research and come up with a plan. But that’s not how you work. You tinker until you figure out the fix. There’s no way to plan that.”
“I promise not to tinker today.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” He kisses me one more time and heads out.
What does he think I’m going to tinker with? I have no idea what is causing this loop to trigger.
“Dame Morgan is calling,” the house says. “Putting the call—”
“House! Cancel—”
“Annabelle, what are you doing still in your robe?” My mother’s hologram appears over the coffee table, her accusing blue eyes glaring into my soul.
“I’m taking a sabbatical, Mother. Like the doctor ordered.”
She deflates. “The doctor—are you unwell? Are the babies healthy? Why didn’t Dr. Tsuyoshi tell me there was a problem?”
“Ha!” I stab a finger at her hologram. “I knew she was working for you!”
“Everyone on SK2 ‘works for me’ in some capacity.”
“But she’s reporting to you—telling you my private health information. I could have her disbarred! Or whatever the doctor equivalent is.”
Mother sniffs. “Don’t be silly, dear. As you pointed out, she works for me. The health of my employees is my business. And reporting her to the medical board on Kaku won’t change that. They have no jurisdiction on the station.”
I gape for a second, then cover my eyes. “Sometimes I forget you have absolute control here. It’s terrifying.” Then I straighten up. “Regardless, I’m taking some time off. Until the babies are born. Or maybe until they’re in college. We’ll see. What’s that, Ty? Coming!” I holler off screen, like a character on a comedy vid. It won’t fool the Ice Dame, but it might piss her off, which is almost as good. “Gotta go, Mother. Tell R’ger I said hi.” I wave the connection off, then head out the door. Time to stir up some trouble.
