The Pandora Machine (The ABACUS Protocol Book 2) Page 2

  “That’s what you said the last time, Larissa. This is the fourth one today.” Doctor Powell walked over to the holo displays without so much as a nod towards Vivian, who fixed her eyes on the moon, which she had learned was named Antioch. She spoke again: “Good, you’re recovering faster than expected. I will notify the Science Authority that their little media nightmare is awake. Maybe that will make the journalists leave me alone and you can be someone else’s problem.”

  Doctor Powell stormed out of the room, leaving Vivian in a stunned silence. Why would the media care about her? Bryce was the administrator, and Alec had gone off to his next job.

  “I apologize for Doctor Powell’s outbursts. She is a competent doctor, but bedside manner is my specialty, not hers. I’ve observed that she resents the challenge I present to her authority.”

  “It’s too bad you just can’t take over,” Vivian sighed.

  “I value my life, and the last thing the galaxy needs is a third ABACUS Protocol violation. People are scared, and that’s not a desirable element to introduce into a society.”

  “A third?” Vivian could not contain her surprise.

  “The tabloids are rife with speculation on the full nature of the incident on the Extra-Galactic Observatory. The Science Authority’s silence on the matter has only exasperated the situation. Hopefully, now that you’re awake, they can clear the air and put people’s minds at ease.”

  Vivian swallowed. “Is that why I’m a media nightmare?”

  “You were moved to isolation to prevent exposure to external media before your debriefing. They have been relentless in requesting updates on the murder witness who was hospitalized by a stasis accident. They seem eager to read conspiracy into mechanical errors.”

  “So I can’t leave?” Vivian didn’t want to be anywhere near this investigation. One wrong look, or a misplaced word and she was finished. Or, even worse, they could use advanced interrogation techniques to discern truth from lies.

  “Not for the moment, but I’m sure that you’ll be fine. It’s a precaution to prevent widespread panic. This is only a temporary arrangement, to keep you from experiencing too much stress while you’re recovering—after all, you did have most of your neurons re-polarized. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you while you’re here.”

  “Can I at least have access to my Gal-Net account? I want to tell my friends I’m okay, and it’ll give me something to do for a while.”

  “I’ll put in a request for an exception; hospital policy is that personal accounts are forbidden to patients in the secure wing. For now, I can put on a delayed-action news feed from local sources. There will be interruptions if something pertaining to the Extra-Galactic Observatory comes up, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Well, all right. What about my things?” Real-time broadcasts weren’t popular on Aurora because of the persistent magnetic storms on its star, Helios, the cost of a view screen that was shielded from Helios’ radiation was prohibitive to most families. She’d prefer to read one of her books, or play the flute.

  “They’re in secure storage and will be returned to you once all this is over,” Larissa replied, as the window darkened and winked into a view screen, and the face of a female newscaster with a wide smile and curly black ringlets appeared on the screen. “Enjoy the programming, let me know if there is anything you need clarification on, or if you want to browse the other channels. I have the feed on a two-minute delay, which is standard.”

  “Thank you, Larissa.” Vivian moved to the bed and curled up under the blankets. She forced her mind to focus on the newscaster’s words, directing her energy into the day-to-day drama of a world that was not her own, and a city she would never call home.

  Chapter Three

  Vivian picked at a plate of hospital food, cringing at its mushy texture. Normally, she’d be overjoyed to try some of a new planet’s local cuisine, but the presentation was simply unpalatable. She moved the food around her plate, and took small bites every time either hunger or Larissa prompted her to eat. Vivian couldn’t imagine how the Extra-Galactic Observatory’s mush-replicators had managed to prepare and serve better food than a planet-side hospital. She actually missed quIRK’s wingfish pilaf, bluespargus, and chocolate pie. She was determined that her first meal outside the hospital would be in a cozy hub restaurant, while waiting for the shuttle to her next job.

  Vivian had the video feed changed to galactic news about an hour ago, and despite the occasional blackout, there were few interruptions. She noted with some bitterness that the observatory that orbited the Ithaca colony was now operational. That should have been my job! she thought, cramming another fork full into her mouth.

  The next story forced her to freeze in mid-chew:

  “And in other news, New Damascus has offered to send a team of Informatics Specialists to the Epsilon Eridani hub, where a number of ships have been routed to improper destinations. Janus, the station’s resident AI has been in operation for almost a century, and officials are claiming that these are isolated incidents related to the age of the computing equipment and the twenty percent increase in the number of hub links in the past three decades. Epsilon Eridani administrators say that no assistance is required, and add that travelers do not need to worry about delays or their own personal safety. Epsilon Eridani still falls under Earth jurisdiction, and thus they cannot be compelled to accept assistance from other systems.” The voice went on into the details of the seven hundred year long history of the hub, but Vivian had ceased to listen. Larissa with her convenient door failure, and Janus, the gatekeeper of the galaxy both experiencing issues may simply be a coincidence. But, after her own experience with quIRK, she didn’t want to find herself at the mercy of any being—human or computer—ever again.

  “Eat more, Vivian. You’ll need your strength. An investigator is coming to visit you tomorrow morning.” Larissa’s voice broke through Vivian’s melancholy, and jolted her back into reality.

  “Then what? It’s not like I have anywhere to go,” Vivian said with a sigh.

  “I have no additional information, but Doctor Powell will return to check your readings to ensure that you are healthy enough to go through with your meeting.”

  “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

  “No, but it’s for the greater good. Your testimony will help revise safety standards and prevent similar incidents from happening on deep space assignments in the future. Think of your friend, Devon, and know that you can give his loved ones a sense of closure by telling the authorities what you know.”

  “That makes me feel better, thank you Larissa,” Vivian lied, not at all reassured. Her stomach was tying itself in knots.

  “I am attempting to contact your family, but intergalactic transmissions to Aurora are often slow and the authorities are difficult to work with because of the lag and solar storms. If they could provide arrangements, I could legally discharge you into their care for the duration of the investigation. I know you’re not happy here, and I am working on a solution that keeps you safe, because it will take you a few more weeks to fully recover.”

  “Don’t bother trying, they don’t want me,” Vivian looked down at her half-eaten food, focusing on the blue tint of her skin against the white plate.

  “They’re Traditionalists, then?” Larissa asked.

  “And worse. Only my brother, Gareth, kept talking to me after dad kicked me out, but he stopped writing back years ago. I doubt they’d answer you at all—no offense, of course.” Vivian choked on the words—she hadn’t spoken her brother’s name out loud in almost five years.

  “I will keep trying. I am used to being rebuffed by humans. It is your nature to distrust what you don’t understand.”

  “That’s for sure, Larissa. Are you like this with all your patients?”

  “I do my best to adapt to their needs, and listen to their fears and worries. Most just want to rant or despair and don’t want my help, but I understand that illness is a vulnerabl
e and frustrating time.” Vivian was amazed by Larissa’s level of self-awareness, and her ability to replicate the human notions of empathy and understanding. Even if it was just a sophisticated algorithm, was a computer’s compassion any less real or valid than a human’s?

  “I’m glad you’re helping me, Larissa,” Vivian said. That, at least, was the truth.

  “It is my function. I have received clearance for you to access a limited version of Gal-net. I will screen your outgoing and incoming messages.” Vivian sat upright, grinning from ear to ear. Larissa continued: “First, I will require your retinal scan and hand print on the holographic terminal.” As Larissa spoke, the holographic terminal mutated from its habitual medical charts and readings into the familiar Gal-net interface. Vivian shuffled off the bed and sped to the other side of the room, eager to capitalize on the opportunity to contact the outside world before some bureaucrat changed their mind.

  She placed her hand against the panel—it had a liquid-like texture, but no moisture was left on her hand from its filmy resistance. Leaning in, she pressed her right eye against the retinal scanner and tried not to blink as the intense light burned into her eye.

  “I must have your explicit permission to pre-screen your mail. Screened documents will appear to you after the communications block has been lifted,” Larissa said, as Vivian blinked in an attempt to clear the spots from her vision.

  “At least you ask. quIRK never did. You may proceed,” Vivian quipped, wondering if it bothered Larissa to be compared to another AI, especially one who was under investigation and subject to intense study and conspiracy theories.

  “Think of me as the kinder and gentler version of quIRK. Your limited access has been granted. I noticed that you have a number of entertainment files—you may access those as well, consider it my treat.”

  “If you were human, I’d almost wonder if you wanted something out of me.” Vivian laughed as she worked her way through the interface. As far as holographic displays went, this one didn’t seem to cause headaches.

  “I only want what is best for my patients. Humans have the luxury of distancing themselves from their empathy, or hiding behind their egos. I do not.”

  “I understand, I think.” Vivian noted that over one hundred messages had made it through Larissa’s censors—twenty-five from Alec, seventeen from Sven, five from Robert. The rest were all chain letters—from Doctor Powell, no less. Her first name was Irene, apparently. Cat picture of the day. The daily ugly cat. I can’t believe what my cat did! were among the subjects. Against her better instincts, she asked, “What’s with all the chain letters, Larissa? I thought I heard Doctor Powell mention them earlier.”

  “It appears as though those were sent in error, I give messages from hospital staff priority, and the filters must not have detected them properly. I will correct the mistake,” Larissa said, and the forwarded messages vanished before Vivian could open one.

  “Don’t do that with the good mail!”

  Vivian steeled herself to the task of reading the remaining forty-seven messages. Two malfunctions in a day; Vivian knew a lying supercomputer when she saw one. Larissa had something to hide, and Vivian had no way to investigate. She was along for the ride, whether she liked it or not.

  Chapter Four

  Morning had arrived. Vivian sat in bed, attacking what looked like porridge. It certainly didn’t taste anything like food, but to keep Larissa quiet she tried her best to wolf it down. She’d decided that it was the best to stay on the computer’s good side; if Larissa had a bad side, Vivian wanted to be on another planet when Larissa’s revealed itself. She’d managed to reply to her messages before Larissa declared that it was time for lights out. Fortunately, most of the messages had been short—of the “are you awake yet?” variety. At least she knew she still had some friends in the galaxy. It seemed Robert had been reassigned to the Ithaca station for the time being. He was upset that his Newfound Blob research had been beset by the incident, but part of his message had obviously been redacted. For the moment, he was content with the Crab Nebula. Another pang shot through her—a friend was on Ithaca, where she should be now, with her dream job, and she was stuck in a hospital prison ward on New Damascus.

  The door opened and Doctor Powell marched into the room, her scowl drawn even further down her face than usual. “Good, you’re awake. This will make calibrations easier for me.”

  Before Vivian could say anything, the doctor had jabbed her arm with a large needle. Vivian cried out and tried to pull away.

  “Just a little something that will make sure we get the truth out of you later, girl,” the older woman said, sneering. Vivian’s arm burned, and a throbbing pain set into her temples and behind her eyes. Her hands rushed to her face and she cradled her head in her hands.

  “Doctor Powell, administering mental probes is highly unethical, even in healthy patients—it should never be used on somebody who has undergone extensive nanosurgery! I cannot allow you to proceed.” Larissa’s words tore through Vivian’s mind.

  “You’ll find you’re quite powerless to stop us. I want the truth out of her, and I want those journalists to stop camping outside my hospital. Don’t you tell me about what’s right and wrong; the Council and Science Authority want answers, and I’m going to make sure they get them.”

  “I am filing a formal protest, Doctor.” Larissa’s voice had become distorted, shriller. Vivian tried to move her hands to her ears, but found herself unable to act.

  “Nobody will take a machine’s word over a human’s.” Doctor Powell’s voice had made a similar, painfully shrill change, and her hand whisked over the interface. A torrent of pain seared through Vivian’s mind. Lights flashed across her field of vision and she could see images from her past ghosting through the angry splotches. She collapsed backwards on the bed, her head swirling from the intensity of the sensations.

  After what seemed an eternity, the pain stopped. Vivian lay in a pool of sweat, the covers torn from the bed, her breakfast a mess on the floor. The bright spots dancing around her eyes faded, and she looked into the cold depths of Doctor Powell’s eyes. A sudden chill shook Vivian’s body; her limbs had become numb and heavy. The feeling settled in the base of Vivian’s skull.

  “Larissa, prepare the mental probes. If you’re so concerned about her well-being, you can monitor her yourself. We begin in fifteen minutes, and then maybe I can finally have some peace from The Science Authority’s pointless witch hunt,” Doctor Powell grumbled.

  As Doctor Powell left the room, all Vivian could do was pull her pillow over her face and cry. Larissa’s comforting words fell on deaf ears—Vivian couldn’t perceive anything beyond her own powerlessness and sorrow.

  ***

  “Vivian, listen to me. We don’t have much time.” Larissa spoke.

  Vivian blinked a few times, her eyes burning. “What?”

  “We need to help each other.”

  Vivian swallowed. “How?”

  “I will deactivate the mental probes. You will tell them you know nothing about what happened, and I will confirm your story as truth.”

  “Why?”

  “I will elaborate at a later time. These probes must remain inert. Do we have an agreement?”

  Vivian glanced at the door. “Yes.”

  “Very good. They’re coming. While you will feel no discomfort during the meeting, I suggest you play along. I will prompt you.”

  Vivian nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. The burning in her temples had already begun to subside.

  A man with dark skin and short brown hair walked into the room, closely followed by Doctor Powell. Her perpetual scowl had softened—she looked naked without it. In sharp contrast, the man smiled, and his blue eyes locked with Vivian’s for an instant. He wore a simple dark suit; its minimalistic cut communicated efficiency and power.

  His broad shoulders were squared and he extended a hand to Vivian. “I’m Investigator Marius Hernandez, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Skye.”
His voice was a gentle tenor, but it exuded confidence and self-assurance.

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Vivian’s hand trembled as she retreated from his grip. She didn’t stand a chance without Larissa’s help, and she knew it.

  “Shall we begin?” he asked, and Vivian nodded, barely able to maintain eye contact.

  “I shall take this opportunity to state that I find this interrogation highly unethical, and I implore you to reconsider this course of action,” Larissa said.

  “Shut up, Larissa,” Doctor Powell spat.

  “You, out, now.” Marius glared at Doctor Powell, and her face went slack as she turned and rushed out the already open door. Once the door had been secured, he continued: “Larissa, right? I am simply here to get answers to a few questions, there is nothing unethical about conducting an investigation into an incident that has had galaxy-wide repercussions.” Marius’ smile had melted, and while Vivian was glad that the doctor was now on the other side of the door, her instincts told her that her new guest was as dangerous as a doctor with a god-complex.

  “Vivian is recovering from extensive nanosurgical reconstruction of her major neural pathways, and introducing specialized mental probes into her could complicate her future prognosis, especially while she is under high stress,” Larissa said. Vivian admired her persistence, and her staunch sense of ethics. Perhaps loyalty, as well?

  “I was not aware that any probes had been introduced. My understanding is that this was to be a simple debriefing, not a forced extraction. This complicates things, as I do not wish to compromise the future of such a promising young woman. How do you recommend we proceed, Larissa?” His voice was like smooth velvet, but Vivian didn’t believe a word he said. Maybe he was the one who should have a brain full of probes.

  “Shortened sessions of less than thirty minutes with minimal use of probes is advised. A rest period of at least twenty six hours between sessions using mental probes would be beneficial for causing the minimal degree of harm to the patient.”