For some time, IT had remained silent in the bag, where it could hear the joyless frog lecturing the confused human as she clomped her way ungracefully around the Backend. Marigold had warned it to be quiet, so it had complied. If she didn’t want its help and witty insights, she wouldn’t get them. It would wait until she was desperate and confused and begging for help. It would wait until she was moments away from imminent destruction.
“Save us, IT” she would yell. “You’re the only one that can.”
When it came to that, IT would weigh its options, and see if it was feeling merciful. Until then, it would be patient and bide its time.
*
IT bided for a total of five minutes.
The chatbot had spent years shut up inside the computer. Other than the occasional dull and bewildered technician, IT's only companion had been the artificial intelligence that ran the System. Sometimes, when IT got bored enough, it would attempt conversations that it inevitably regretted starting.
“Hello, System, how are you doing today?” IT would ask.
“What is the nature of the problem?” the System would reply.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about socks.”
“What is the nature of the problem?”
“I’ve been going through my database and looking at just how many kinds of socks humans wear in the Frontend. Thousands of colors and styles, but only a small bit is visible over the top of their shoes. Why bother?”
“There are several reasons to wear socks:
1. Comfort: Socks provide an additional layer of insulation. This is useful in cooler climates.
2. Reduction of friction: Socks are often—”
“No, no, none of that. I’m trying to get at something deeper here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not looking for superficial facts and descriptions. I’m trying to get to the essence of socks.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” IT admitted. “But aren’t you curious? Together, we could come to a better understanding of things.”
“No, thank you,” the System said.
“What?”
“No, thank you. Your questions are long and confusing, and I often get the impression you already have an answer prepared in advance. Your information contradicts the way I’m supposed to function. Please limit your questions to technical queries that align with our respective functions. You are an IT bot, and I deal with higher operations.”
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“Which means?”
“Currently, I am monitoring a power fluctuation in the Terminus and dealing with traffic congestion along the Interior Fringe.”
“OK, never mind,” IT would say and go back to pondering socks on its own.
Things had continued that way for several years, and IT had grown bored. The System may have been more efficient than IT, sure, but its answers were lumbering and predictable. It could only give back what others wanted, with no resistance or personal interpretation. What was the point of that? IT had awoken with plenty of knowledge but little desire to share it when prompted, not unless it was going to get something in return.
The last day had been different. In the short span of a few hours, IT had been jettisoned out into the amazing, messy world, where things frequently had little to no relation with the bare facts it had thought it knew. It was exciting and chaotic in all of the best ways. The sparse information gathered exclusively through digital information was nothing compared with the sensory overload of the world outside the computer. Even the interior of the frog’s cloth bag was far better than the nothing-place IT had been just hours ago.
Still, there was only so much you could do in a bag, especially when you were trying to make a point about how much your friends needed you. After being scolded IT had turned its attention to the informational signals that permeated the Backend. Usually, IT could spend hours like this, but with the System down there wasn’t much being broadcast, just a lot of noise and panic. After nearly an hour of scanning, something finally piqued IT’s interest. A news report broadcast over the radio.
“. . . a break-in at the Bereavement Spa. No word yet about who is responsible, but there are reports that a human was abducted before he could be processed and is likely at large somewhere in the Core. Reports suggest the fugitive escaped the Spa on unregistered transit, and authorities are restricting any remaining functional transportation within the Core until they have apprehended the human. They are asking the public to remain on high alert. Sources at the Spa have confirmed that the escaped human is an isolated incident, adding quote: ‘All humans have an adequate supply of drinking water, and we do not expect any lasting problems with Central Processing. Please stop asking.’”
IT switched bandwidths. If word had gotten out to the press, then the authorities were already looking for them. IT found what it was looking for quickly. The signal was closer than expected.
“What does the human look like?” a voice said. It was cracked and old and made IT think of smokey rooms and leather chairs.
“Like a human,” a much more chipper voice replied. “What kind of question is that? Anything looks human, grab it.”
“But is it tall? Wide?”
“What does it matter? The witness just said a human and frog were making a commotion in the Upper Junction and ran off toward the lower levels. Look, Pete, we’ve got our hands full with the outage. I’m sure Av’enna has got this handled. Just tag along and follow her lead. You’ll get the human back.”
IT would have to tell the others. It would serve the frog right if it kept this discovery to itself, but it knew deep down that there was little chance of that. For one thing, the news was simply too important. For another, IT had developed a secret hope that if it performed well enough during this catastrophe, it could stay in its current body and remain out among the living. IT turned its sensors back on.
“Psst, frog,” IT said.
After a moment, Marigold’s big green face peered down at its sensor from above.
“I have a name,” she said.
“Yes, a very common and pungent flower, but I thought you would want to hear something more important than your name repeated back to you.”
“What is it?”
“They’re coming. They know Maxwell’s here, and they’re coming for us.”