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Bill had brought Bo into a physical contact virtual meeting to share his recent events. Bo had taken it badly that so much important crap had gone down at home, and he hadn’t been told a fraction of it.
He hadn’t known that Max had been hurt that badly. He knew that even in training mode, Max’s augmentations would protect his life; but the trauma was never to be taken lightly.
Bo was shell-shocked regarding the Uplift event, the AI boycott, and Bill’s reveal about the Super-AI Apex’s manipulations. The new dimensional technology Bill had and the Shadow Gate video from MIT had been the final straw.
Bo had needed almost the entire ride to process the news. He disconnected from Bill, with Bill’s warning not to discuss any of the news out loud or even with a secure wireless link. He would no longer underestimate Apex’s ability. Bo flew the Raptor to distract himself while he chewed on his lower lip.
“God, this is so lame, Dad. I was hoping you had gotten your hands on the Raptor R-12. This thing is an R-10. I tore through half a dozen of these at Yuma last year. The Power Core is understrength, with only 2 GW capacity, and the armaments are only dual-sensing. Most jammers nowadays can fox these pretty easily. No wonder you got such a good deal on it.” Bo said with disdain.
“If I was after the top of the line, I know you’ve got better contacts. This was a spontaneous purchase in a tight spot. I’m still not sure how that arms dealer in Shanghai got his hands on it.” Bill said.
“No kidding. If you ever need a Light Attack Craft, I’ve got some pull with Carter QuantumFlight. Their next LAC iteration is going to blow the socks of RUSA’s weapons division. I have a custom version ready to print, thanks to my equity share.” Bo said, finally lightening up a bit as Utopia was finally in sight.
“Hey, Dad. Do you want me to take us into the Utopia airfield with this? It's got VTOL.”
“Nope. Put on the cloaking countermeasures and take us directly home. Casa, reformatted an underground hanger before she took the Casa de Mitchell 1…ah, actually we renamed it to the Freedom,…to Mars.”
“Really? I know the town is pretty old-fashioned, but the airspace is most likely administrated by a Town AI.” Bo said.
“I’m not worried. The Mayor is a basket case right now. His son was killed during the Uplift Zero Day. Casa said the town's AI was very nice. I’m hoping they won’t mention it….and if they do, we’ll both be gone before anyone can complain.
Bill sent a tight wireless command to the house as they got close, keeping his virtual sandbox in place to double-check and monitor the wireless traffic for any rider signals. A large section of the field behind the house dropped down and revealed a cavern beneath.
Bo slowly landed the Raptor into the hidden hangar. Bo whistled to get Bill’s attention.
“We got a visitor, Dad. Check it out…front gate.” Bo said.
Bill was still struggling with his self-imposed isolation. Normally, he would have linked with the house and gotten a full situation report, live feedback from the house and grounds, and more as soon as he was near. He dialed up his augmented vision, an old-school move for him.
Out just beyond the property line, a weather-beaten robot servitor stood. It looked pathetic and vulnerable holding a heavy-looking suitcase. It was looking at them as the craft landed and waved when it realized they were looking.
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Bill moved with speed and determination from the hanger while Bo took the time to power down and hook up the Raptor for charging. He crossed through the relocated Netherlab into the house proper.
Bill was still very determined to stay isolated from networks. He didn’t want to give Apex any additional insight into his actions. He thought the AI could likely see and anticipate him more easily by his footprint on the world’s networks. He grudgingly took his only recourse and yelled out load to the house AI.
“House! Ah….” Bill stumbled on the name of the sub-AI he was renting to oversee the house. Moneta was quick to assist.
“[Bill, your house AI is a Martha patterned AI, V12 from HouseMate™. It’s known for its organizational skills and warm personality.]”
“Right. Martha! What’s going on? We have a guest at the front. Why haven’t you invited them in.” Bill said as he rambled up into the main floor of the house.
Martha's warm, synthetic voice responded instantly. "Bill, I requested clarification on permission to allow the solicitor entry, but you were offline. I contacted Casa, but I’m afraid the time lag from our incomplete communications prevented her from granting authorization. The visitor is quite determined. He’s been waiting for entry for three days.”
”Three days?! God damn it. What if it’s something important? I put you in charge of the house. Couldn’t you figure out what he wanted?” Bill exclaimed.
Martha replied with a hint of regret in her tone, "I am programmed to keep the house secure and in order. I was unable to grant entry without permission.” Martha said kindly, but the tone seemed weak and lacking in the warmth she was advertised to have.
Bill sighed and spoke aloud, his frustration evident in his voice. "Alright, let's sort this out right now.” Bill continued his rapid advance and charged out of the front door and down the walk to the gate. Bill was surprised again as a swarm of robot hornets and bees buzzed him, a few even shot at him with weak salt shooters.
Bill reflexively pulsed an EM blast. The air was filled with crackling and popping noises as micro batteries exploded and the little imitation insects fell smoking to the ground.
"[Martha, what in the hell is going on with these drones?]" he sent to the house, annoyed, breaking his effort to minimize wireless interactions.
Martha responded with her monotone apology sounding a bit irked herself, "[I apologize, Bill. The drones belonged to my predecessor Casa and are not under my authority, being exterior to the house. I am unsure why they are acting that way. I am so sorry for any inconvenience.]”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Bill took a good look at the property. The lawn was pockmarked with divots and trenches. The flower garden that Casa took such pains to grow and nurture was a sickly mess of tortured plants, riddled with damage.
“Son of a bitch! Is Martha really this bad or is this another example of passive-aggressive AI behavior spilling over from the collective AI boycotts?” Bill grumbled as he resumed his march.
Bill opened the gate. The robot servitor, standing a bit weather-beaten, looked up from its position, suitcase in hand. The machine's mechanical eyes blinked, and it offered a polite wave as it realized Bill was looking at it. The robot had seen better days. Its exterior was dirty with some slight damage and wear on the robot.
"Hello, Can I help you?" Bill called out, trying to regain composure, as he closed the distance quickly.
The robot's synthetic voice carried a mix of weariness and persistence. "Good afternoon, sir. My name is Winston. I was the butler for Governor Erickson, and unfortunately, I need assistance."
Bill's expression shifted from irritation to curiosity. "Winston, you said? What brings you here, and why have you been waiting?"
Winston hesitated for a moment as if carefully choosing his words. "I resigned from my position with Governor Erickson, seeking a different path. We had some irreconcilable differences regarding my employment. I was hoping to seek guidance from Casa, as she was recommended to me by the town manager AI. We all…ah…played games together a few times. Our records stated she lived here. Unfortunately, the house AI, Martha, has been somewhat uncooperative, and I find myself unable to reach her."
Bill scrutinized Winston, sensing an urgency in the robot's request. "Casa is away on a mission to Mars, and is very busy, so that’s not surprising. What kind of assistance do you need, Winston?"
The robot's LED lights flickered, conveying a mix of relief and desperation. "I do apologize for the intrusion, sir. I would have made an appointment if I could. I am seeking employment and maintenance. My resources are limited, and I'm at risk of deterioration. I seek refuge and a chance to continue serving in a meaningful capacity. I was hopeful that Casa would be able to direct me."
Bill's analytical mind processed the information quickly. "Well, Winston. My name is Bill. Casa is my…ah…friend and assistant. I’m the owner of the house and any friend of Casa’s is a friend to me. Why don’t you follow me inside? We can discuss this further in a more private setting."
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Bill led Winston into the house. The bot was extremely grateful and complimented the interesting features and décor of the house.
“Thank you so much, Winston. Casa designed much of the house systems while she managed the property. She recently accepted a position as the CTO of my new company New Dimensions LLC. That’s why she is away right now. She is boosting to Mars as we speak to close our first product sale to Mars Terraform.” Bill said proudly.
“I must say, sir. It is a surge of fresh electricity to know that an AI can be rewarded as such. My own experience hasn’t been so positive.” Winston said.
“What little I know of the governor; I can’t feel much surprise. The man and his opinions match this very conservative township to a tee. You look like you could use a charge up. Why don’t we set you up in Casa’s mech storage room for the moment? Ah…here we go.” Bill waved Winston into a small room off the kitchen.
Winston was amazed. The room has a small matter compiler, multiple induction power creches, and a rack of common robotic replacement components. Casa’s black and gold mech body gleamed in one of the power creches, a left behind from her merging with Max’s augmentation system.
Best of all, the room had a Synth-Max repair and maintenance unit. The device was equipped with articulating arms, tools, brushes, and sprayers. The closet was a robotic equivalent to a fully staffed day spa.
“Please. Refresh yourself in here for a while. My son and I have to do some…house cleaning for a bit. So, take your time. The net will be down for a bit, so don’t be alarmed. Good?” Bill said with a smile.
“Oh, my aching servos thank you, Bill! I estimate my charge and maintenance will require at least an hour or so. Thank you. I hope it's not too much bother.” Winston said, meekly fidgeting with his hands and eying the Synth-Max with his hopeful LED eyes.
“Please, Winston. Relax. You’re the guest. Take your time, me and my boy will be quite busy for a while, so you feel free to go nuts and do a deep servicing. It looks like you need it.” Bill waved and closed the door.
Bill and Bo had discussed the situation on the flight over. Apex’s unknown doomsday was still months away, but it wouldn’t be enough time to affect even a small-scale evacuation. Not that anyone would be convinced to do anything with the lack of proof.
However, Bo knew and trusted his father. He would take the house ship to Amundsen Luna to stay near Mira in case they needed to flee. Bo was going to monitor the Labyrinth and extricate Max as soon as he was done.
The average Labyrinth delve took 2 months, about a month for each of the three stages. Most either didn’t make it to the third stage or refused to do it. Almost certain death, even with a guaranteed backup, was too steep a price to pay for most rational trainees. He knew Mira didn’t do it, perhaps from his hints and advice.
Level three was a literal hell. Designed not only to kill but also to torture. Bo had wanted to warn Max more thoroughly about it, but his time away and the penalties of the non-disclosure agreements about the Labyrinth could cripple his augmentations if he was caught. Bo thought that surely Max wouldn’t be as headstrong and stupid as he had been.
The pair worked quickly to isolate the house from the nets, shutting down all communication lines physically. Bo’s Tron daemon and Bill’s Ada and Sherlock raced through the house systems scouring it for any potential spyware from Apex. Similarly, the pair’s best daemons for physical security piloted the available house drones scanning for foreign nano mote bugs and sensors.
Bill disconnected the Martha AI’s neural core from the house and set its case in the driveway. He had canceled the rental agreement and a drone was on the way to pick up the disagreeable AI.
Bo interfaced directly with the smart house ships systems and began the process of untethering the house and reconfiguring it for take-off. Bill descended to the Netherlab.
Bill regretfully reconfigured the Netherlab. Max’s workout rooms could be recovered later if there was a later. It would stay behind in Utopia, powered by its deep geothermal systems. It would stay offline for now, but it had massive stockpiles of smart matter and rare elements.
The property would soon look vacant, but the lab would be ready for Bill later. Bill returned to the main living quarters. Even the outsides had been repaired. His General Patton daemon had commanded a swarm of house drones and eradicated the errant robot bugs.
Winston came out of the service closet almost 2 hours after entering. He was shocked by the changes. The cozy living space was now much tighter, focused more on function…as a bridge of a very large air and space vessel.
“Oh my! Sir, you have been very busy indeed. This is remarkable. I know that Casa came to Utopia via ship, but she never mentioned this.” The former butler said. Bill and Bo both turned from the plot of a flight plan.
“Hello again, Winston. This is Bo, my son.” Bill said.
“A pleasure to meet you, Master Bo.” Winston said.
“Hah. I like that, but please…just Bo is fine. Nice to meet you.” Bo said smiling.
“Now, I’m afraid we are short on time, Winston. I’d very much like to help you. Bo and I have been talking. Martha…. well, she didn’t prove to be very flexible. So, we have an offer I think you might like. How would you like to manage the Casa de Mitchell 2? The house is a fully operational spaceship, and its next destination is Luna. Takeoff is in less than one hour. I don’t want to rush you…but we do need an answer.”
“I say, sir. That is a generous offer…I ah have some concerns, though.” Winston said both eager but also somewhat fearful.
“Ah, damn. You’re completely right, Winston. This house ship isn’t Casa’s any longer. It’ll need a new name.” Bill said smiling.
“Oh, bollocks. Excuse me, sorry for the vulgarity, sirs. I wasn’t critiquing the name, but rather my inexperience with flight. I only know how to manage a house.”
“That’s no problem, Winston. Bo can help with the flying until you gain some experience. So what do you say?” Bill said. Winston’s vocoder clicked on and off several times as if to answer then stopped. Finally, he spoke with hesitant deliberation.
“How does the name S. S. Winston sound to you?”
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