The ABACUS Protocol Page 5

  Vivian needed a distraction—a way to unwind from the day’s events and find some sense of normalcy on this assignment. She browsed through the terminal, deciding to order some books and entertainment programs. A Gal-Net account was for life, and her selections would follow her everywhere. Her account balance had grown during her time on the station; she’d avoided spending money until she found out what her replacement flute would cost, but now she couldn’t wait any longer. She was going out of her mind watching terrible centuries-old nature documentaries. She’d finished her last Auroran book the previous week, and the station’s media selection was the same stale collection that she’d perused back in university on Aurora, with the addition of a few local offerings from New Damascus.

  The Gal-Net selection was incredible. There were scores of music, books, and old films available for her connection, and even some games. She didn’t know much about so-called modern games, but she missed poker. She wasn’t sure if playing it against a computer would be enjoyable. Perhaps she could teach Alec, and hopefully quIRK would understand the deceptive nature of the game enough not to announce what was in their hands. Though playing against a beginner may not be sporting, it was better than spending her evenings alone or staring into the black void of intergalactic space between chapters.

  She picked out a modest selection, trying to take her mind off the letter and her work. She was elated to find some poker games, along with some new books from New Damascus. She wanted to learn more about their culture, in case she stayed employed by them after her term on the Extra-Galactic Observatory was done. On a whim, she purchased a compilation of the best movies of the twentieth century. With adaptive linguistics, of course. English had changed a great deal in the past thousand years. She’d seen a couple of movies that old during her time at the university, and she found them quaint and enjoyable. Vivian wasn’t sure what she’d do for relaxation until her data began to arrive in about ten days, but Alec had invited her to play something called squash. To her, a squash was a gourd, however Alec claimed that it was like a card game, but you could hit balls with a racquet. At the moment, anything was better than another night of documentaries. Being able to hit something was a bonus; the station’s old punching bag was becoming threadbare under her ministrations.

  A new message arrived for her after she confirmed her order. Her lips tugged upwards when she saw that the message was from Sven—he remembered her! He asked how her placement was going, and said that he would send her a flute, free of charge. She sank back in her chair with a smile—she missed practicing, even if she was self-conscious about playing in front of others. It was a more constructive pastime than taking her anger out on the punching bag.

  She composed an excited and enthusiastic reply to Sven, and filled him in a little with what was happening on the station: the oxygen incident with Alec, and how distant the other crewmembers were. She was hoping he would have some advice on fitting in with other people so far from home, as he had obviously managed to assimilate into mainstream galactic society very well. She remembered how he had made her feel safe.

  She sent the message, and did a small victory dance in her chair. She wanted the flute to be on the next shuttle—minus the turbulence this time.

  “What are we celebrating?” quIRK asked. It was the first thing he’d said to her since she’d finished working. Vivian was relieved that if quIRK was talking again, she wouldn’t die of loneliness or get a bad case of space sickness—she’d read about psychosis triggered by long periods of isolation, and it didn’t appeal to her at all.

  “I’m getting a new flute!” She announced, her voice shrill and loud. The prospect of playing music again was enough to make her giggle. She was especially looking forward to losing herself in the haunting echoes and otherworldly beauty that was the voice of her beloved flute.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” quIRK said. “I didn’t realize Auroran flutes were available on the supply requisitions.”

  “They’re not. My friend Sven is sending me one; he runs an export business,” she explained, curious as to why quIRK didn’t snoop her message.

  “How lucky for you. Nobody sends me anything,” quIRK said.

  “You get an upgrade, remember?” She smiled and stretched out in her chair. She was unsure if quIRK was being sarcastic or not. It could be hard to tell because he never changed the way his voice inflected.

  “It’s not the same thing. Do you get excited when you go to the dentist?”

  “I see your point.” Her smile melted. Did she just get compared to a dentist?

  “Will you play for me?”

  “Play for you? You’ll hear it no matter who I play for.” Nobody had asked her to play for them since her mother had disowned her. Not even the boys she’d dated in university had been interested—they cared more about movies and other offworld indulgences.

  “I have never experienced live music,” the machine admitted.

  “Why does that matter?”

  “The harmonics will be more complex, and mathematically interesting,” he said.

  “I’ll see what I can do to overload your circuits,” she said, laughing. It struck her that the mathematics of music would naturally appeal to a computer.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but that would be physically impossible even for an entire orchestra, never mind a single flute.”

  “I’d love to try,” Vivian confessed. She remembered Sven’s question about poker-playing quantum computers, and asked: “Do you know how to play poker?”

  “I am familiar with the rules, but I prefer chess.”

  “Let’s play a game of poker,” she suggested, dreading another night of stale documentaries or sore knuckles.

  “You don’t think I’ll cheat?” he asked.

  “I trust you. Unless you’d rather spend an exciting night of learning about the mating habits of Elysian moths,” she said, skimming the unwatched list. People will watch anything, she thought.

  “I’ve seen that one five times,” said quIRK. “Let me prepare a suitable poker interface, and we’ll begin.”

  Vivian grinned while looking out her window. She was going to tell Sven all about this game in her next letter, if she didn’t lose too badly, of course.

  Eleven

  Vivian hovered over Alec’s shoulder as he examined the hatch that lead to the central core. She had been unable to get the heavy door to release and give her access to the maintenance tubes, despite trying to force it. The mechanism was entirely mechanical in nature, thus it wasn’t under quIRK’s control—an intentional safety precaution. Alec suspected that it had corroded shut or been improperly installed. Alec was in high demand—in the fifteen minutes he’d been there, quIRK had paged him three times about needing him to finish securing the alpha telescopes before that evening’s rotation to beta side. The scientists working there might be unfriendly, but they certainly were persistent.

  “I can’t wait until they flip this damned station already,” Alec muttered as he applied a solvent to the edges of the hatch. It filled the air with a caustic bite, and Vivian retreated to the other side of the room.

  “When’s that supposed to happen?” she asked, as she stifled a sneeze. She continued: “quIRK, can you open the door before this jerk gasses me?”

  “But I was looking forward to watching you die,” quIRK said before Alec could reply. The door slid open and air rushed from the room. quIRK must have changed the room’s barometric pressure.

  “Ugh, bad joke quIRK,” Alec said, shaking his head. After a pause, he added, “Yeah, the station is supposed to do its flip this evening, after final dinner call.”

  “Is there anything I need to know?” Vivian asked.

  “Find a good window seat . . . the flip the coolest thing you’ll see out here, other than me, of course!” Alec gestured to himself as he turned to grin at her.

  “No, I’m the coolest thing. In fact, I’m super-cooled,” quIRK said.

  Vivian and Alec groaned at the same
time. She covered her face with her hand and shook her head.

  “Damn, quIRK, where are you picking up such bad one-liners?” Alec asked.

  “We’ve been watching ancient pre-space era comedies on the public vid archives,” Vivian said.

  “At least it wasn’t the moth mating video,” said Alec, laughing and rolling his eyes. “He spewed terrible moth sex innuendo for months.”

  “You actually watched that?” Vivian chuckled as Alec tried to pry the hatch from the wall with a crowbar.

  “He watched it three times, to be exact. As I recall, you seemed very excited by—” quIRK began, but was cut off by Alec.

  “I was waiting for my paycheck; a guy needs something to stimulate his mind and intellect out here! Besides, I was homesick! Those are Elysian moths, you know.” Alec stumbled over his words. Even the back of his neck blushed deep red.

  “I have to ask, who watched the other two instances of the moth loving documentary?” Vivian asked.

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” quIRK replied. Vivian made a mental note: no more spy movies.

  “I bet it was Bryce. That guy won’t do anything unless it’s free.” Alec ignored quIRK’s statement.

  “Is squash free?” Vivian grudgingly admitted to herself that she and Bryce had frugality in common.

  Alec shrugged. “It is unless you want a custom racquet.”

  “I like squash. It’s fast,” quIRK interjected.

  “Is there anything you don’t like, quIRK?” The key to his behavior could be in his dislikes, rather than his whimsical and spontaneous preferences.

  “The moth documentary, the color yellow, and people with no manners.”

  Vivian sighed. She was hoping for something more profound. Maybe an equation.

  “You mean you dislike yourself, quIRK?” Alec’s voice strained as he tried to force the hatch open.

  “I am not people.”

  “Lucky for you. You know what I want to know? What’s with all those habitable planets that they won’t let us colonize,” Alec said. He then paused, and grunted as the door swung free. Vivian found herself disappointed by the lack of a dramatic cloud of dust.

  “I will attempt to update the common files, but I have no information on forbidden planets,” quIRK said. “Perhaps you’ve been watching too much science fiction, Alec.”

  “Shut up, quIRK. Okay, I’ll need to fix the door so it will close properly once I’m done with the damn alpha telescopes. Then, squash, you and me Vivian!” He set the hatch cover in the corner.

  “And quIRK makes three.” quIRK was relentless in his interruptions today.

  “I’ll be there. Good luck on alpha side,” she said. Alec grunted and left the room. The door slid closed behind him, leaving the lingering smell of solvent hanging in the air.

  Vivian crept down towards the portal and peered inside. The tube was cramped and small, made entirely from polished metal. A simple strip of lights graced the top of the crawlspace, and closed panels lined the interior. It was a stark contrast to the warm, comfortable tones predominant in the rest of the station. It was mechanical and cold. An emergency shutdown panel sat directly to the left of the opening. It was outlined in red. Vivian shivered. It was a reminder of what she was dealing with. She was the first person to look inside quIRK in twelve years.

  “How long until the station flips, quIRK?” she asked.

  “Projected time is in four hours and forty-two minutes.”

  “I have plenty of time to get my hands dirty, then.” She stood up to get her maintenance checklist and some basic tools, before asking, “Make sure the cats don’t get in the tube, okay quIRK?”

  “That would be for the best. Good luck.”

  Tool, satchel and checklist in hand, she crawled into the workspace on her belly and began snaking her way towards the first junction. She smiled—things were finally going right.

  Twelve

  Any questions about whether or not quIRK could see inside the maintenance section were answered after the portable diagnostic tool slipped out of her hands and tumbled down the vertical access tube next to her. She cursed, surprising herself with the impressive string of profanity she’d managed to create. Some of her expletives weren’t even proper words. She hoped the tool wasn’t broken; it had come to rest at the bottom of the core, three levels down.

  She mounted the ladder, crying out as she slammed her head against the roof of the tube. There had been an empty space for the passage to the central core had been only a moment ago. Her hand brushed against the seam of a door when it flew to examine the injury. The pain disoriented her—she couldn’t think through the throbbing pain that had concentrated in the back of her skull. She clung to the ladder, and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that surged out.

  “Are you alright?” quIRK asked. His voice was unchanged even in this new, claustrophobic part of the station.

  “I think so, but it really hurts,” she said, massaging the rapidly-forming bump on the top of her head. The skin seemed to be intact, but it was warm to the touch and tender.

  “You should take care of that; human skulls are not as thick as commonly thought.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, as she began descending into the bowels of the station. She clamped her eyes tight as her head spun—she didn’t know if it was the bump or vertigo.

  “Even the intelligent specimens can be thick-skulled, and not realize it. Now get yourself out of that tunnel before I call Alec to pour ice down that shaft onto your head.”

  “I just need my tool. I promise I’ll get some ice come back up.” quIRK’s behavior was incomprehensible—like a toddler reacting to a situation he couldn’t understand.

  “This is why you need me,” the computer said.

  “What?” she said, trying to hide her dizziness with an iron grip on the rungs. It was just a few more steps to the bottom.

  “Humans seldom do what’s good for them, and don’t appreciate the bigger picture.”

  “And what bigger picture would that be?” she groaned as she reached the bottom. quIRK must have been emboldened by Alec’s earlier weirdness. He had a few things to learn about empathy.

  “One with more emphasis on self-preservation.”

  “You don’t say,” she said as she reached the bottom of the shaft, noticing that the base of the tunnel was really a hatch. She stooped to retrieve her tool; it seemed to still work. At least Dynamo Quantronics built their equipment to last.

  “You see, I can open that hatch you’re standing on and have you blown into space at any time while you’re in here, leaving you to die from rapid decompression. Now, I suggest you climb to the top of that ladder, and meet Alec at the door.” quIRK spoke like he was reading a parts list rather than threatening to kill her.

  Vivian’s eyes went wide, and she stuffed the blinking end of the cylindrical device into her pocket. The throbbing in her head had melted into a buzzing sound in the back of her skull. She hopped onto the ladder, and began to climb. She’d never heard quIRK threaten anyone before.

  “Good, you’re showing excellent improvement in your long-range planning skills.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, gasping for breath. Even with lower gravity, it was still a challenging climb.

  “I don’t want somebody with an untreated head injury working on me.”

  “Did you really need to threaten to kill me?”

  “That may have been excessive, but you would call it self-preservation.”

  “Hey Vivian, are you in there?” Alec’s voice echoed down the tube, his voice contorting to sound tinny and hollow. She was so close to the top, but she noticed something strange—what should have been ceiling—had been a ceiling when she’d hit her head was now an open area, with a ladder going up. She shook her head and dragged herself into the crawlspace adjoining her lab.

  “I’m here, Alec.” She was panting hard as she dragged herself past her tools towards Alec’s frownin
g face. Her head ached and the newly-formed bump burned. The door was an afterthought.

  “Okay, I have ice, crawl out,” he called to her. “Just be glad I told quIRK to stuff it when he said to pour it down the tube.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” she said, approaching the exit.

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to go in there, no worries of that,” he laughed, but his demeanor grew more serious as she pulled herself closer. “Oh wow, you really hit yourself hard.”

  “It just looks bad. quIRK was just overreacting, again.” Alec made a cursory check once her head was clear of the tube. His fingers tested her skin, hot against her scalp.

  “I do not overreact,” quIRK protested.

  “I’m sure you don’t. Here, take this, it’s freezing my hands!” Alec handed her the ice pack. It was a simple re-sealable plastic bag from the dining hall that had been filled with ice.

  “Thanks.” She accepted the makeshift icepack, and she winced as she placed the frigid package on her burning scalp. She hated being forced to ice injuries; it seldom helped and she looked stupid. She hoped Alec’s contraption was water-tight.

  “I’ll escort you back to your room. The flip is happening in less than an hour, and you’ve earned a break.” Alec offered her his too-long arm and a toothy grin.

  She stood up, holding the ice pack against her scalp. She took Alec’s arm and let him guide her out of the room. Once they arrived, she smiled. Lepton was sitting in front of her door, waiting for her and purring.

  ***