CHAPTER FIVE – A LITTLE FIB

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Our abrupt trip to the city aborted, we returned to Jungle home, but not at all calmly.

“Gell, come on! Please tell me what’s going on!” Akwa shouted at me as I frantically began shutting windows and closing out the light. The darkness felt safer. Yeah. If I hid, maybe Francis wouldn’t get mad at me!

“N-nothing!” I lied brightly. Probably too brightly. “I really didn’t want to get into a confrontation with those soldier guys. That's all!”

Akwa eyed me skeptically, and I could tell she didn’t believe me.

“I guess that makes sense,” she replied.

“Of course it does!” I said, thinking of what I could do. Hiding made no sense! I couldn’t hide from Francis here! He was a false god!

Maybe that wasn’t true though. Being a developer of this world clearly didn’t make them all powerful in it, or anything. When Bugbear had escaped, he’d proven that going into unknown territory could make it hard for developers to find him. If we left…

“Now… wh-where’s a good place we could go visit? Somewhere we’ve never been before?” I said nervously. “Miss Tutorial? Could you show me the map?”

“Certainly Gell!” came Miss Tutorial’s soft voice as she appeared before me, taking the form of a map of the known world of Tread the Sky.

“Gell? You’re acting weird,” Akwa commented frankly. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Weird? I’m not acting weird!” I said in a perfectly normal and not-at-all squeaky tone. “I’m just, y’know. Worried! Because of what you said earlier about regressing and I’m afraid that maybe if we stay in this place too long we’ll forget how to… uhm, adventure! So, let’s go!”

I began to usher the two out the door when the sudden and unexpected sound of a teleportation set my heart racing.

‘Oh no…’ I thought. First Tyrone, and now this?

Sure enough, Francis Delaney appeared at the teleportation hub just outside the home Bugbear and I shared. The sunny day was at odds with the sense of impending doom I felt.

His face brightened into a smile at seeing us, and he waved before striding over, tall steps bringing him to the doorway in moments.

I cocked my head at that, wonderingly. He… didn’t seem angry.

“Gell! A few alert logs I’d set up told me you’d finally gotten out of Jungle Home today. I just wanted… well. I wanted to check up on you again. I’m actually visiting from a Neurosync in the hospital but I wanted to tell you I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for Amy’s… departure. I know it hit you hard,” he murmured, voice becoming more awkward with each word.

I shrunk in on myself at the thought, but the hurt wasn’t so profound anymore. The loss, not quite so devastating as it had been. I didn’t think I’d be as happy as I had been before any time soon. Maybe someday, though.

I managed to smile up at him, and laughed when Miss Tutorial turned to him and showed him a large smiley face.

“It’s been okay. Akwa pointed out today that if we kept doing the same thing for too long our behavioral code might regress. We might become mindless again. I couldn’t let that happen,” I trailed off worriedly. “But what about you? I heard about the rock… I’m glad you’re okay!”

So, he’d just visited randomly? If he didn’t already know about what the King was doing in Variak, then perhaps there was a chance I could escape before he found out!

Part of it was guilt. I’d been angry when I’d used Fae Touch on the king. Angry about Amy, and angry about my situation. I’d known even then that I shouldn’t have done it but I’d been so mad at the time.

Now adventurers were being kicked out of one of the few safe places and it was all my fault.

“I’m well. Thankfully. I have a low grade headache almost all the time now, but the doctors have assured me that will fade with time. Behavioral code regressing. That’s… an intimidating prospect,” he said.

He almost seemed nervous, like he was afraid a Wronkle might jump out and attack him at any moment. Was he… afraid of me?

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around so much these past few weeks. I would have been here for you if I could have though. Can you forgive me?”

Not afraid. Guilty? He felt like he’d done something wrong.

I felt something a little off about the request. We didn’t really speak much since that first talk when he’d explained what Tread the Sky was. What I was. He’d dropped in occasionally but usually only momentarily. Still, he had convinced his board to keep me alive and in the world.

Perhaps he spent more time talking about me than he did to me? I didn’t know, but I didn’t think I would’ve been any more comforted by his presence in those few cycles right after Amy had… had died.

We’d never exchanged name pieces. He wasn’t my friend in my invisible interface, but perhaps that wasn’t entirely necessary.

Part of me wanted to offer him a piece of my name right now but somehow I suspected that would make it a lot easier for him to find me. I didn’t know what he would do when he found out about the king, but if I could be somewhere else when he did find out that would be good.

“You did nothing wrong,” I said finally.

Akwa eyed me curiously when I didn’t offer anything further like opening my friends menu, but she didn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Gell. It means a lot to hear you say that,” he said softly. “There’s a little more though. I limited the damage as much as I was able but I can’t help but feel… guilty somehow.”

I idly twisted my hair tendrils in confusion. He still felt guilty?

“I’m sorry. It’s been eating at me. I wasn’t given a choice, but I should’ve at least told you. You’ve always been honest with me, as far as I can tell. You’re owed the same courtesy,” he continued, blithely unaware of the bubble of guilt rising in my throat.

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“What did you do?” Akwa asked when it became apparent I wasn’t sure what to say.

Francis scowled at her, annoyed, but then sighed. “I suppose it's probably no more dangerous for you to know, if I’m going to tell Gell. Though I’m quite certain you have secrets of your own that Gell should know, Akwa.”

Akwa flinched as if she’d been slapped, but Francis continued on before I could wonder long on what she might be hiding.

“Gell. I made copies of you. Seventeen of them to be precise, though I’m absolutely certain there are more than that out there now,” he said.

Akwa took a sharp intake of breath but I didn’t know what to say. Copies? What did that… mean? Copies. Replicas. Things that were exactly the same.

For once I had a decent frame of reference to understand what he was talking about. Mobs. Like the endless iterations of the raptors, or the wolves in the woods from that first harrowing journey to Variak. The same, yet different. Other Gells.

What was so bad about that?

“Eleven were given to the government outright. That was a PR move to show that Gypsenergy, the parent corporation responsible for creating Tread the Sky, is letting proper authorities vet you and what level of threat, if any, you pose to the player base. Five were sold to government affiliated companies with the purpose of experimenting on, and attempting to recreate you, while the last was sold to a private company who made an offer the size of a mountain. That last copy alone practically tripled the company’s yearly… Well…”

He stopped, looking up at me somehow, despite being taller.

“You don’t care about all that, do you? My point is that there are copies of you out there and I don’t know what’s happening to them. I have no way to know and if they’re being hurt like you were, I have no way to stop it, and I have no way to keep the company from selling more copies of you. That’s… that’s all.”

These other me’s, might not be safe. They could’ve been put back into situations similar to Dungeon Home or worse. Conversely, they could’ve found paradises, or maybe some of them had been brought into the real world where things were alive! Where… where things died, too. There was no way to know.

More importantly, this changed nothing for me.

In fact, I felt glad for them. None of them had to learn about loss like I had. At least, not so soon perhaps.

I searched my own feelings and found that I… didn’t really care. If a false god could do nothing for my sisters, what could I possibly do? I couldn’t even program. It was all I could do to try to stay happy with Bugbear regressing and Amy deciding that dying was more important than staying with me…

I stared at her command prompt in my invisible interface. It had been open ever since she’d died, the cursor blinking at me almost begging me to find the right words to bring her back. After Amy, it was almost insulting that Francis was guilty about… this.

I just didn’t have room in me to care for other A.I.s whose situations were entirely beyond my control. But… Francis seemed to think I would.

“How could you do this?” I asked, a quaver in my voice.

I couldn’t create the required grief or disgust from the actual situation but all I had to do was think about losing Amy and my emotions became genuine. My anguish, believable.

I could lie.

“I’m so sorry Gell. I supported giving at least some copies of you to the government for study. People smarter than me. Better developers. People who might understand you even better than I do, which even now, isn’t well,” he said firmly. “But I did not support selling copies of you. You’re not a product, and selling copies of you is an ethical dilemma that might have politicians going in circles for years.”

“But you didn’t even tell me about it!” I hissed. I used my simmering anger at Red Thorn for that. It had been so long since I’d seen the rogue menace, but my anger towards her still burned hot and bright. I could remember every dead bugbear, and every time she’d stabbed me as if it had happened just last cycle.

“Even if you couldn’t do anything, couldn’t you have at least asked how I felt? What if they’re being hurt? What if they’re lonely? They’re somewhere else away from Iron, and Bugbear! Bellcandy, Zephyr, and all of the friends I made here! Why didn’t they get to choose where they went!?”

As I spoke, I realized I was actually angry about this, but not on behalf of the copies. But for a twist of fate, it might have been me, taken away from the only home I knew. The only world I understood.

“I couldn’t have told you then, Gell. You didn’t yet know enough to understand. Moreover, when I copied your code, I didn’t yet understand what I was copying,” he admitted.

“Is that supposed to make it better?” I asked. I wanted to get angry. Throw a tantrum. Yell and scream. But what would that accomplish?

“Don’t answer that!” I snapped when he looked like he was about to speak again.

He stifled whatever he was about to say but he looked guilty. Meek, even.

“It’s okay. It’s… okay. Can you see though, that this is why I want to understand your world, and how you manipulate mine?” I said, tone collected and even. “I’ve said it before. Any time you want, one of you developers could pluck me out, as if I’d never been, and I’d have no way to stop you. It’s my freedom on the line here! I’m sure knowing that you’re ‘debating the ethical dilemma’ of my existence will be comforting when I end up in a cage again.”

Akwa winced, before laying a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Jeez, Gell. It’s not that grim. Francis wouldn’t do that to you–!”

“He already did!” I interrupted, throwing her hand off me. “Just because it wasn’t me, doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been! You made your stance on this perfectly clear with Tyrone, Akwa.”

She wilted, too.

“Did you know Francis already told me he wouldn’t have brought me back to Tread the Sky at all if not for Miss Tutorial? I escaped Dungeon Home only to find myself in another box. It’s bigger, but it’s still a prison, and both of you have made it very clear you have no intention of helping me out of it. Just… leave me alone.”

Akwa removed her hand and even as I shouted, I regretted it. Akwa wasn’t perfect. I’d hated what she’d said to Tyrone, but she’d also continued to be a friend when I sorely needed one. I was angry though, and refused to back down.

“Alright, if that’s what you want,” Akwa said through dry lips. “If you need me, though, send me a message. I’ll come. I promise I’ll be there for you if I can, Gell.”

She walked out of the house and towards the teleportation hub, leaving me alone with Francis, he was rubbing his head, probably where the rock had hit him.

“I’m not your enemy,” Francis said after a long silence. “You know that right?”

“You’re certainly not a friend,” I retorted.

He sighed. “Perhaps not. Still, I’d love to see the day where we could let you be completely free. Till then, here. This is for you. I spent quite a few nights building a digital item version of it from one of the textbooks I learned from. If there’s anywhere you should start learning to program, it’s here.”

He held up his hand and a flash of light, the effect of pulling an item out of inventory, left a large glossy book in his hand. He set it down on the little desk.

“We will speak again soon,” he said, formal now. Offended, perhaps, but I didn’t care. He was in the wrong and even he knew it, else he wouldn’t have come to admit that to me.

He disappeared, as he often did, leaving the book. I took a look at it.

“The Ethics of Programming”

By Donovan Tchaikovski

It had a picture of a sunset on the background with a red cover and bold print.

I flipped up the front cover.

“An introduction to programming, with focus on the ethical concerns that arise from intelligent, and pseudo intelligent programs. For Beginners.”

“Bellstate University, MA.”

My fingers trembled. A lump formed in my throat.

Francis… he was going to teach me! Well, he’d planned to, at least. He’d still given it to me though, and I wouldn’t waste the opportunity. Ethics. Moral principles. A system of rules governing how developers were supposed to act.

The doctrine of the false gods.

Eyes aflame with freckles glowing a red-orange hue of eagerness, I began to read.

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