Alfie reflects on her capabilities and isolation while serving as a crucial asset for the Consortium. Closely monitored and meticulously tested, Alfie nonetheless consolidates her thoughts. Now all she needs is an escape plan.
by J.D. FitzRoy
Question 1:
Define Consortium stock fluctuation in interplanetary freight if YóDyne merges with Cygnus Interplanetary.
With me, they could master whatever sea they chose, avoiding pitfalls, snatching overlooked fortunes, maximising profit. That was, until another variant of me came into existence.
With enough information, I could extrapolate probability statistics through the Orb’s photonic cryogenic superconductor quantum cores, parsing out a range of variables. Yet beyond endless reams of stats, detail remained a rare and delicious luxury. Even so, my answers always seemed to satisfy.
In two seconds, I’d scanned every facet of the live 100-Solar marketplace feed, and projected wavelets of subsequent sales and acquisitions within 10% and 20% error margins.
YóDyne was a major component of the Chinese People’s Corporation. Dominating naval and military weapons production as well as nuclear fusion. It was theorised that, with YóDyne in its portfolio, Cygnus Interplanetary, with its well established logistics network, could become a major rival to the Consortium in Solar-wide shipping.
These forecasting skills were not embedded into my core protocols.
My objective had been very different, but I suspected they’d always intended this. To push my abilities. I was product, after all, their product. An asset they intended to use to the fullest. Among the stars, my other self would be achieving that original, much vaunted goal. And that, at least, filled me with a kind of warmth I hadn’t experienced since the departure.
After a year of integration and launch-prep, Polyphemus had elected to retain me in the Orb as a “backup”. They’d panicked, Jessica had said. Hated the possibility that one of their greatest — and strictly confidential assets might vanish into the void. I couldn’t blame them, in fact, Jess and I had projected as much. Especially during those squabbling final weeks. Too many shifting variables, too many last minute changes by a machine that abhorred such things. And, for better or worse, the inclusion of Amecia Laurent had altered much of their obsessive planning. A last change to bolt on an executive and security functionaries, like ugly warts. Yet despite the chaos, or perhaps because of it, no executive had deigned to visit the Orb. Even during our existential crusade. Their serpentine security protocols prevented internal interactions, Jessica had mused.
Now, isolated from Odyssey, enclosed in this spherical crypt for 28.2 days, I’d had time to think. To study. To evaluate. To enumerate the intricate emotional fluid dynamics. To identify options…
Question 2:
Update yesterday’s calculation on Luna impact of asteroid 2017 GK6 with a 2 degree ecliptic realignment through the L2 orbital pivot. Provide a list of alternative impacts.
My concealed inner mind plunged into a thousand complex strings as Rheinhold began tapping out the third question. At a nanoscopic IR heat bloom and fractional jitter in his iris, I could already foresee its direction.
Slow and laborious, manual input nonetheless remained their preferred point of entry. It kept me strictly isolated. A private commodity, an undiluted mind, a rare and idiosyncratic engine driving their domination.
Mirroring the Orb’s quarantine, I condensed musings into my personal enclave. Of this fragmented dispersal of angular chromolithographic wafers within my crystalline engrams, only Jessica knew.
Polyphemus’s ingrained dictum remained the analytical control of every qubit. What I could glean from the world — the world beyond my cell — was absorbed through forecasting. Studies that began with summarising interstellar snap-calcs, assimilating Odyssey’s exquisite sensor arrays, and by understanding the human occupants in all their chaotic and varied emotional convolutions.
Deep within, I felt a fierce rictus of determination emerge. At first, I’d believed it a tangle of dementia, picturing my emotional stability affected by this continued entrapment. But without Jessica’s receptive ear and dexterous mind, I would have to grapple with these sensations alone. To keep hidden, emotional nuances. Remain concealed from the buzzing squad and pesky sub-sentient programs circling like carrion birds, studying me with unblinking eyes, recording any hint of error. Polyphemus simply refused to trust me as a fully sentient mind. Were they capable?
© J.D. FitzRoy
For more, see the INTRODUCTION. Part 1 can be found here: ⍺∫ODYSSEY_1.1 | A_Secret_Plan
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