Eliasz sent back: Great work, Paladin. Let me know what you find out from Broner. I see you’re near his lab.
Paladin let Bug lead her to the Broner Lab, which looked like an old classroom with a giant cluster of desks at its center. Atop these desks were several servers and projectors, a chip printer, some fabbers, and a high-powered microscope box for imaging atoms. Tissue generators were jammed against the walls next to narrow glass doors leading to several small offices. Bobby’s office occupied a corner, with a perfect view of the microscope array.
Before Paladin could approach, however, the scientist jumped up from his chair and walked toward her with a look of extreme pleasure on his face. His hair was a mass of tangled curls, and his artificial eyes glowed blue as he looked at the frequencies radiating from Bug’s antennas.
“It’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, reaching out to shake her hand. As she grasped his fingers in her own, she tasted coffee and bacon.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Paladin vocalized.
“Oh, no, probably not,” the man conceded. “But I worked on your brain interface. I know it’s sometimes a little unstable—will you let me know if you find any bugs?”
“I will,” Paladin said. “My name is Daisy. I’ve just gotten my autonomy key and I’m looking for a job designing molecular interfaces.”
“You worked on interface design? You look military.”
“I was indentured to several startups in the Northern Federation.”
For some reason, this seemed to satisfy his curiosity. “Sure, Daisy. Send me your work history.” And then, as if he could not resist, he added, “Can I get a copy of the interface you’re running, too?” The smile had returned to his face. “I want to see how they implemented it.”
It would have been a violation of her mission to hand over any of her software, so she did not respond to Bobby’s request. Instead, Paladin sent him her work history, which listed one “former client” named “Federation Ventures.” Then she spoke aloud. “I have sent you my employment information. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Bug buzzed and flickered through a dozen colors. Remember that secure session you suggested before? Let’s use it now, and call it session 566785. You are Daisy. I am Bug. Here comes my data. What the fuck? Did he really just ask for a copy of your brain interface? Why would you let that guy talk to you that way? That is the end of my data.
Bobby looked sharply at the two bots after he saw Bug’s data packets flash between them. He couldn’t possibly have read what Bug said, but Paladin still wanted to distract him from speculating about it. “Have you made any progress with this interface?” she vocalized. “Will I ever be able to access the memories stored in my brain?”
Her ploy worked. The scientist’s skin crackled with excitement. “That’s the question that humans always ask—always, always. They want to scoop out the brains of their dead friends, plop them inside a nice new carapace, and presto! Resurrection!” Bobby paused and looked dubiously at Paladin. “Never heard a bot ask that one before, though. Why would you want to remember somebody else’s memories?”
“It’s not that I need those memories. I’m just curious, because I have heard a lot of contradictory things about my brain.”
“There is a lot of misinformation, mostly from marketers.” Bobby poked his finger at the air as he talked, choosing his words carefully, as if explaining something she might be too simple to grasp. “But I’ll tell you right now: It just doesn’t work like that. The human brain doesn’t store memories like a file system, so it’s basically impossible to port data from your brain to your mind. My graduate student Actin could tell you more about that, but my opinion is that the main advantage to having a human brain is all the processing power it can devote to facial recognition. And olfaction, of course.”
“Even that is debatable,” said a voice that emerged from two desktop speakers plugged into the lab’s workstation.
You are Actin. I am Bug. Bug broadcast his greeting over and over, his carapace strobing yellow in an alarming way.
Paladin scanned the room, finding nothing but the three of them. Was Actin broadcasting from somewhere remote?
“Allow me to introduce my student Actin,” Bobby said with a grin, sweeping his arm through the air in a way that suggested Actin resided everywhere. “I’ve ported him to the fabber!”
Bug hovered directly over the fabber, broadcasting a stream of wrathful emoji. Where is your fucking body, Actin? He can’t do this! This is against the law!
The small, gray box with no external sensors that was Actin ignored Bug. “Bots don’t really need human brains to recognize humans,” Actin vocalized through the speakers. “There’s voice recognition, gait recognition, and many other methods that are equivalent to facial recognition.”
“I can see that you’re broadcasting,” Bobby said to Bug, “but he can’t hear you. Right now his only input is audio—sorry about that. I’m going to get drivers for his cameras and antennas when I have a little extra time.”
“Hello, Actin,” Bug vocalized.
“Hello, Bug.”
Eliasz messaged Paladin suddenly. He had been watching through her sensors. What’s with all the chitchat? Broner’s public calendar says he has no appointments today—that means no interruptions. Take those bots out and get the information you need. We can extract you on Vancouver Island in 8 hours.
He was right. She surrendered her autonomy to her offensive weapons systems, relieved to be executing actions that felt unambiguously right. First she sent a low-level command to the laboratory maintenance system, which was entirely unprotected. As the laboratory door locked, she killed power to the fabber and left Actin in a limbo she refused to contemplate. It was easy to take control of Bug’s system, too—he trusted her. Four swift commands paralyzed him, and sent him crashing to the floor just as she seized Bobby.
Before the scientist could scream, she had pinned his arms behind his back and covered his mouth with her hand. She tasted blood, and perceived for the first time that Bobby had a brain interface. He could communicate wirelessly.
The two of them stood quite still for a moment, the man’s head pulled painfully back against Paladin’s chest. Morning sunlight played over Bug’s wings, still for the first time since she’d met him.
You’re going to give me some information or you’re going to die.
It took a while for Bobby to reply. With his mouth covered, he had to send each ASCII character via a clumsy process of visualization, translated by his wireless interface into data. Who are you?
I know you are in contact with Jack. Where is her laboratory?
WTF?
Paladin crushed both of Bobby’s wrists in her hand, releasing the pressure only after sensing that his bones had been broken. She waited while his brain processed the electrical surge traveling through his nerves as agony. The scientist squirmed, trying to make a noise around the grip of her other hand.
Where is Jack’s laboratory?
The scientist sent even more slowly, his concentration frayed by pain. Done nothing wrong.
She has killed dozens of people. She is a terrorist. By helping her, you became a terrorist, too.
The pain was interfering with Bobby’s ability to stand. Paladin dragged him to his office and slowly lowered him into a chair. He was no longer struggling to vocalize, so she removed her hand.