“The Eden artificial intelligences look to Eve as an absent Goddess,” Liam continued pensively. “Rumour says that they've been trying to find a way to reactivate her all this time, but haven't managed it and they blame us.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Ashley asked.
“About two hundred ten years ago or so. Yorgen Stills was well ahead of his time, he should have been revered as a genius, published in medical journals. Instead he tried to reincarnate his daughter and well,” Liam took a sip of wine before going on. “He got his wish.”
Alice couldn't help but glance at Jake, who forced a thin smile. “Well, I suppose without those Eden Two laws there would be a few more of me around,” she added quietly.
“I doubt it. Corporations have been tying to program the human brain for a very long time. Imprinting is a major focus of their research. There's a good chance we've met someone else who has an imprinted personality and extra data programmed into their memories and we'll never know it,” Grace contradicted. “Besides, we all program and condition ourselves with the experiences we repeat every day, it's just a slower way of doing the same thing.”
Alice remembered then that Grace had no idea that she was once just an artificial intelligence and decided not to inform her. “You have a good point.”
“That she does,” Liam finished his glass of wine and stood. “Sorry to leave you all, but I have to get some sleep. I'm due back in engineering in six hours. We're rebuilding a reactor and starting on the mass materializer.”
“I suppose it's time for us all to get some rack time,” Captain Valance said. “We have busy days ahead.”
Training Day Four, Morning
Stephanie was awfully comfortable. Her quarters were just as lavish as Ashley's. She had gotten a chance to compare while briefly visiting a few times in the days since the dinner party. Every night after a double shift of training her crew, upgrading her own skills and knowledge of the ship while running security details, she'd go straight to bed. Her meals were always taken during duty.
In the space of five minutes of passing through her door every night her vacsuit was on the floor and she was in bed, hoping to get some much needed sleep. The mattress adjusted to her automatically, she didn't have to adjust firmness, pillows or even how many blankets she had. The bed did it all for her and it was incredible, like having your very own cocoon.
After spending time in the military, freelancing on one ship after another until she spent years on the Samson, she had grown to expect discomfort. When you found a quiet, soft place somewhere in any of the bunk compartments or anywhere else for that matter it was sacred. You did what you could to claim it for yourself and treasured every moment you could spend at rest. Creature comforts took valuable space and on military or mercenary vessels the crew were given as little room as possible. Space was always at a premium.
Finding a ship like the Triton with accommodations suited to long term living and crew support was amazing. She had seen the racks in the common berths and even though there were many bunks per compartment, the foot lockers were three times the size she'd seen on other ships, there was enough clearance for someone to comfortably sit up straight, and the beds there adjusted as well. There were also sound dampeners throughout, so it always seemed very quiet. Common spaces distributed throughout the berths with tables, comfortable seating and materializers made those berths like miniature neighbourhoods. Living with bunkmates could quickly become a distinct lifestyle and she could see her and Ashley actually having a good time there, but it wasn't right for officers to sleep in the same berths as their subordinates.
The creature comforts that were supposed to lull her to sleep weren't doing the trick, however. She turned over to lay on her stomach and pounded the mattress half heartedly. A few hours after getting to bed she finally drifted off, only to wake a couple hours later. Thoughts of her security teams and what kind of simulation training she'd be running them through were the first thing to come to mind. The simulations were fantastic, the computer was able to replicate the ship, an endless variety of conditions, send sensations of running, jumping, signals of damage and every tactile feeling she could imagine. It even replicated everyone's physical limitations. All through a small visor that sent impulses to the brain and projected an image against the eyes. She knew there were all kinds of simulations going on right then. Some were assigned to squads in her department, many others were optional.
The Captain had opened the training database to everyone, allowing any crew member or civilian to participate in training scenarios involving the Triton and missions around the Triton. She doubted they'd be popular, there was a vast database of holographic movies and seasons upon seasons of serialized programming.
There were even interactive programs using the same simulation technology, not many mind you, they were expensive and Wheeler didn't spend much on his ship, but some of them looked interesting. To her surprise she was completely wrong about the popularity of crew running simulations in their spare time. The most popular preoccupation was running boarding and ship defence sims with friends, squad mates, or just as a single entrant.
She thought about joining a simulation instead of rolling around hoping for rest but put the idea aside. Her security teams were surprisingly good. Most of them already had military training, followed ranks that were already in place, and even showed a great deal of respect she hadn't had the chance to earn yet. She would, it would just take time and patience.
It was the intelligence department that irritated her every time she walked into security command. Cynthia wasn't responsible for all the issues. She didn't have the training to run the department and was very short on experience. Every time Chief Grady spent an hour in the department things got done ten times faster. Everything started falling into place and people found direction and confidence. He was the Chief of Engineering, however, and at the moment his engineering doctorates were more important to the ship. He couldn't spend his time setting up an intelligence department with a dozen military and a half dozen civilians. Only a few of them even had a realistic idea of how much computing power it took to crack an encryption, what kind of software had to be designed, and the rest were used to sorting through recorded wireless port traffic and interior ship transmissions. They had no idea how to research or scavenge actionable intelligence from the ocean of information they had access to from one day to the next. Liam was kind enough to give them a few of his filters, making getting to the most important information take less time, but few people actually took the time to look into how those filters worked so they could make them their own or specialize them for specific purposes.
The Captain was putting a lot of trust on all the department heads and helping everyone out as much as he could but his time was widely divided. To his credit he was becoming more and more visible, and at the same time he was giving everyone who was remotely qualified a chance at being the Officer of the Watch.
She was surprised there weren't more incidents between crew members. Only three fights had broken out. Her department had only had to put four people in the brig and two were already released. No one had been sentenced to be left at the next port yet, though she knew that would eventually happen. There was a secret list in her command and control unit of people Chiefs wanted left at port. So far Frost had the most, followed by Chief Vercelli, and Chief Grady had entered three names. Most of the crew on the list were notes as untalented and disinterested, or trouble seeking people. She didn't second guess any entries, but was happy that she had no names to add so far. Even her trouble makers weren't that bad, they only needed something to do.