OLD THREATS — NIMALIAN DEVELOPMENTS
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Chapter 32: Missing Knowledge
— Tuesday, January 17, AD 2130 —
“Mote! There you are.”
“Hmm…? Oh, Colonel.” Mote stopped walking to offer Saito a salute. “Do you need something, sir?”
“Just a quick chat, that’s all,” Saito replied as he caught up to Mote, and the two continued walking down the corridors of the Opportunity space station. An expansive vista of Earth’s blues and greens stretched along the far wall of the hallway, but Saito ignored the view as he looked up at Mote. “You busy?”
“I’m on my way to help with Kate’s research, again,” Mote replied. “More to do with the armor, I’ll bet…”
“So she’s really found a way to rescue it after you fried it, huh?”
“So it seems.” Mote than passed Saito a doubtful look. “…Are you here to talk about that?”
“No. …Well… sort of,” Saito replied. “Regarding the armor itself — I can’t fault you for using your Overdrive in that situation. But I did want to speak with you about what I read in your mission report…”
“Was there an issue with my performance, sir?”
The Colonel faltered for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. “…Sort of.”
“There was?” Mote stopped walking to look at Saito in surprise. “I… don’t see what else I could have done, sir. The stasis blocks were destroyed before we even arrived.”
“This isn’t about the stasis blocks,” Saito replied, turning to face Mote head-on now that they weren’t walking. “I don’t object to what you did while fighting for your life, down there. The fact that you managed to keep a level head even while low on breathable air is admirable, really.”
“Thank you, sir. …Then what’s the issue?”
“It’s what you said happened at the end. You said that Maenikad pleaded for her life, and yet you still killed her.”
Mote’s expression hardened. “I destroyed a machine, sir.”
“You don’t think it’s possible for a sapient AI to exist?” Saito questioned.
“It’s still an AI. A computer,” Mote argued. “It isn’t human, like you or me. And it had been attacking me up until that very moment, regardless.”
“A surrender is a surrender.” Saito looked up at Mote with troubled concern. “I can understand if the lack of oxygen down there interfered with your judgment, Mote. But if your report is accurate… you killed someone, or something who had surrendered to you.”
“Respectfully, sir, AI don’t have personhood. They can’t — because they’re artificially created machines. The Ark AI’s ‘surrender’ was doubtlessly a pre-programmed attempt to stall for time. It did activate the self-destruct in the end, after all.”
“After you ignored her pleading several times, by your own admission!”
Mote and Saito both fell silent, glaring at each other in the middle of the corridor.
Eventually, Mote diverted his gaze, though he still bore a fierce scowl on his face. “…Am I to treat machines as if they’re human, sir?”
Saito released a wary sigh as he rubbed his brow. “You… honestly believe that Maenikad was no more than a machine, don’t you?”
“It admitted to being an AI itself. And a sufficiently advanced computer could easily simulate human emotion to provoke the responses it needs out of any human it interacts with.”
“If a computer can ‘fake’ being sapient to such a degree that humans can’t tell the difference, then is it really ‘faking it’ anymore?”
“Yes. It is. Because computers can never be human. Period. …Sir.”
“…Right.” The Colonel sighed again. “…Well, I’m at least certain now that you definitely believed Maenikad to be no more than a machine. Are you alright, though? Even if you don’t believe Maenikad was ‘alive’, per se, you still heard her beg for her life. Few people would be able to go through with… destroying her after that.”
Mote turned away. “…It was a machine, sir.”
“Right… alright. I’ll stop harping on that point, then.”
“Is that all you wanted, sir?”
“There’s just one more thing. In your report, you mentioned there being an enemy Electrotechnic, but you never found them. …You really don’t know what happened to them?”
“No… I was never able to detect their presence, even in the end. And if they survived that long, then…”
Saito warily eyed Mote, who himself had diverted his gaze, his eyes directed at the virtual windows — though seemingly not focused on them. The Colonel suspected that he knew what Mote was thinking; after all, according to his report, Mote had finished off the Ark with an incredible lightning blast. And immediately after that, it self-destructed. If anyone had been left behind…
“…I’m sorry, sir. This is unbecoming of me.”
“Hmm?” Saito gave Mote an odd look as the Electrotechnic turned to face him again. “What? Why?”
“The death of our enemies is nothing to mourn over,” Mote declared. “We shouldn’t celebrate their deaths, certainly, but we shouldn’t dwell on them, either. We would be little able to fulfill our duties as soldiers and officers of SERRCom if we did, after all.”
Saito responded only with silence, his expression blank as he stared at Mote.
“…Sir?”
“…You’re… really something, Mote,” Saito replied, forcing a smile as he placed his hand on Mote’s shoulder and squeezed once. “…But don’t think you have to shoulder everything alone. You might be a soldier of SERRCom, sure. But you’re a human, too. Don’t forget that.”
“…Understood, sir,” Mote responded, though despite his words, confusion clearly covered his face.
“And now, I’ll get out of your hair.” Saito offered Mote a quick salute before backing away. “Have fun helping with that research!”
“I’ll… try, sir.”
With those parting words, Mote and Saito finally parted ways, with Saito walking back toward the way they had come. After taking a few steps, however, he stopped to look behind himself — to look at Mote, who was steadily walking in the opposite direction. The Colonel’s gaze lingered for a couple seconds, but eventually he turned around and began walking once again, leaving the hallway — and his heavy conversation — behind.
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5 Minutes Later
“What do you mean, you haven’t fixed the armor yet?”
“I mean what I said, dumbass,” Kate retorted, shooting Mote an annoyed glare before turning her attention back to the computer in front of her. “I made sure you didn’t fry it into fucking oblivion, at least, but we still need to do the malware check.”
“Ugh…” Mote groaned in displeasure, only to resign himself to his fate. He stepped forward to approach Kate’s workstation in the shared ETAA office aboard Opportunity, which was currently also occupied by Danielle — who was spending her time talking to Kate while she worked — and Sarah, who appeared to be working on some other project across the room.
“You really don’t like working with this armor, do you?” Sarah questioned, leaning back in her chair with coffee mug in hand as she observed the Eximius Vir.
Mote passed her an annoyed glance before sitting down in an empty chair next to Kate. “You should know well my thoughts on the armor at this point,” he stated. “And the fact that the gene-locking technology was intentional on the part of the creators makes it even worse.”
“Doesn’t it make you feel special, though?” Danielle questioned, idly kicking her legs while sitting on the edge of Kate’s desk.
“It constantly eats my time and attention,” Mote countered. “Not to mention how incredibly inefficient it is to give a Chaotic like me access to such an armor. Not only does it not run on electricity — meaning I can’t power it up like regular armor — but its systems are overkill for what I need. We’d be better served giving it to a non-Chaotic, if only the Aldredas weren’t so foolish when they designed it.”
“Personally, I’m just fucking glad to hear that the thing wasn’t broken to start with,” Kate declared. “I agree that the gene-lock is fucking stupid, but the fact that the armor is working as intended means fucking everything else should be fine, too. Or at least, was fine.”
“If this is about what I did to it, then I already explained — using my Overdrive was necessary.”
“This isn’t about you. I mean, your fucking EMP Overdrive did a real fucking number on the armor, but at least you stored it before you EMPed it. If you hadn’t, I don’t think it would’ve survived.”
“So what’re you concerned about, then?” Danielle questioned.
“The hacking, obviously,” Kate retorted. “That bitch of an AI we ran into took control of both Mote’s armor and that Corvette. She tried to take over the Genesis, too!”
“’It’,” Mote insisted. “It tried to take over the Genesis.”
“Oh?” Sarah rose an inquisitive eyebrow. “I can’t say I expected my day to involve a discussion of AI rights.”
“They don’t have rights, because they’re machines. That’s it.”
“But… she talked like a real person,” Danielle said.
Mote passed her an annoyed glance. “First the Colonel, and now you… this is exactly why so-called ‘sapient’ AI is dangerous. That AI’s entire persona was a construct, a pale simulation of human emotion meant to provoke desired responses out of real people. It’s just a trick… and it seems to have worked on all of you.”
Danielle frowned. “But… she seemed so real…”
“If she was trying to ‘provoke desired responses’ then she couldn’t have failed worse,” Kate retorted.
“AI personhood aside, the fact still remains that you got to talk with an Aldredian AI,” Sarah pointed out. “I do wish I had been there…”
“It tried to kill me,” Mote replied.
“And yet you’re still fuckin’ alive,” Kate responded. “So stop your bitching.”
“Aw, c’mon, Kate,” Danielle replied, “it sounded like it was really stressful, down in the Ark…”
“You’re probably just mad you didn’t get to fight, aren’t you,” Mote said.
“Damn right I’m mad,” Kate remarked with a scowl. “Another fucking missed fight! Stop hogging all the fights, you asshole!”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“I’m curious about this fighting, though,” Sarah said. “I’ve read your report, Mote, and you say that you were fighting another Electrotechnic down there. But you never found them?”
“…No,” Mote responded slowly. “…But they must have been there. How else would I have run into Electrotechnic resistance?”
“Maybe the AI was a Chaotic!” Danielle suggested.
Mote audibly scoffed. “An AI? A Chaotic?”
“I wouldn’t be so dismissive of the idea, were I you,” Sarah responded. “There are several animal and plant species throughout the galaxy with Chaotic or Chaotic-like abilities; there are many such examples on Nimalia’s Hazard Islands, for instance. Or were, anyways, before they bombed those islands into bloody oblivion… Still. We know that being a Chaotic isn’t unique to humans, or even to being sapient.”
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Mote passed her a doubtful glance. “Even plants and animals are very different from AI, though. For one, they aren’t artificial.”
“While true, I think it’s folly to assign any particular significance to the ‘natural’,” Sarah countered. “The more pragmatic answer is that we simply don’t know if AIs can be Chaotics. And given the current galactic climate, I very much doubt that will change anytime soon.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle questioned.
“Just that strong AI research is in a pitiful state. The CSA has straight outlawed it, citing an ancient AI uprising in Citan space. The Nimalians don’t seem to be interested in strong or sapient AI, and the Syraus are too occupied with their little war with the Riaxen to put time or money into researching automation beyond what serves them in war. All of the private entities large or wealthy enough to make significant strides in AI research are beholden to CSA regulations, which means that they can’t. That leaves only us, SERRCom… and I suspect we aren’t anywhere close to developing a true, strong AI just yet.”
“We don’t need it, anyways,” Mote insisted.
“A phrase that has been uttered many times before groundbreaking inventions,” Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes. “Personally, I’d quite like to see AI research make significant strides. It isn’t my field of expertise, but strong AI could be significantly helpful to Earth.”
“Or harmful,” Mote pressed.
Sarah sighed and shook her head. “So pessimistic.”
“I just wanna know if AIs can be Chaotics,” Danielle remarked. “Imagine a world where they can be!”
“I’d rather not,” Mote responded with a scowl.
“I sure as hell would!” Kate replied. “Especially a worst case scenario: an AI uprising, where the AI are fucking Chaotics! In a situation like that, no one would give a fuck if I blew up a city or two! Hell, they’d probably ask for it!”
“You want to blow up a city?!”
“Oh calm your tits, it’s hyperbole. Still, for that AI in the Ark, I think it’s more likely that she was just stealing the Electrotechnism of an Aldredas in stasis.”
“But the stasis block was destroyed…”
“And how would you ‘steal’ a Chaotic ability, anyways?” Danielle questioned.
“First of all — Mote, you said that you saw one of the stasis blocks was destroyed,” Kate answered, “but it’s totally possible that there were a couple of stasis pods hidden in a fuckin’ closet somewhere. The bitch of an AI was already set on betraying you, no reason she would’ve told you about any living Aldredas.”
“I… suppose,” Mote admitted.
“And a sufficiently advanced AI could have an intricate understanding of the human brain,” Kate continued. “We still don’t know exactly what gives you a Chaotic ability, but we at least know that you need your fucking brain to control it. So that AI could maybe just have been tapping into the brain of an Aldredian in stasis and ‘hijacking’ it to use that Aldredian’s Electrotechnism on you.”
“That sounds really complicated…” Danielle muttered.
“And yet, it does make some level of sense…” Mote commented. “The Aldredas certainly didn’t seem like the types to do things the easy way, anyways.”
“Too fucking true…” Kate grumbled. “Why is all their shit so fucking hard to work with…”
“At least we already have information and interfaces gathered by the rest of the galaxy,” Sarah pointed out. “Imagine how much more work it would be to study Aldredian technology if we didn’t even have a way to access it!”
“Yeah, but you guys have experience with this reverse-engineering stuff, right?” Danielle questioned as she glanced between Kate and Sarah. “Or at least, SERRCom does. Right? With the Genesis?”
“We still aren’t anywhere close to fully reverse-engineering Genesis’s systems,” Sarah refuted. “We still don’t even know how Subspace Drives work! We just looked at how Genesis’s drive was put together, and then slapped together our own in the same configuration. And lo and behold, it bloody worked!”
“How does that make any sense?!”
“How to explain… well, as a very rough analogy, imagine that you have some building block toys. One day, you see a toy that someone else has, made out of the same blocks — and yet, it does something spectacular, something that seems physically impossible. You don’t know how, but you know that their toy is made out of the same kind of blocks that you have, so you try to put together your own blocks in the same way. And when you do, your toy can suddenly do the spectacular thing, as well!” Sarah then shrugged. “…Not a very good analogy, really. But that’s the core of the issue: we know how to assemble Subspace Drives, but we don’t yet understand why putting together a bunch of metal and plastic in that specific shape and configuration makes it able to move an entire spacecraft into an entirely different bloody dimension.”
“I didn’t realize we knew that little about our own technology,” Mote muttered.
“It’s a big part of why none of our manufactured drives can match Genesis’s speed,” Sarah explained. “Since we don’t understand how they work, we can’t be sure how good of a reproduction our drives are. Same applies to the rest of Genesis’s systems, as well.”
“Are you saying that our entire space fleet is built on black box technology?”
“Not entirely,” Kate retorted. “SERRCom still figured out a lot of that spacecraft shit before the Genesis popped up, you know. Energy shields, anti-grav, weaponry, all that stuff — none of it is black box. The only fucking black box stuff we still have are the Subspace Drives, the beaming tech, the Absolute Cloaking System, Genesis’s Chaos Cannons, and its fucking operating system.”
“Wait…” Mote looked to Kate in alarm. “We don’t even know how Genesis’s operating system works?!”
“There’s a little more nuance than that,” Sarah responded. “The OS that actually runs all of the ship’s computers, and that the crew interfaces with — we understand that software perfectly well. Genesis’s OS is nigh-identical to SERRCom’s spacecraft OS from 20 years ago, in fact, despite Genesis not being manufactured by us.”
“Which is pretty concerning, isn’t it?”
“I can’t deny that, but we haven’t yet found an answer for how that could be in the 20 years since,” Sarah replied with a shrug. “The scarier part, in my opinion, is that the crew-facing OS doesn’t actually touch the ship’s hardware. Not directly. It actually runs as a virtual layer on top of the ship’s ‘actual’ operating system, which is the system that’s actually in charge of Genesis’s hardware. And we can’t access it.”
“…I don’t follow.”
“Let’s go with another analogy. Imagine you’re eating at a restaurant. You give your order to the waiter, and the waiter relays your order to the cook. The cook prepares your food, and then hands it off to the waiter, who brings it out to you,” Sarah said. “In this analogy, the ‘waiter’ is the operating system, and the ‘cook’ is the hardware of the ship. For example, when Captain Krick orders his crew to activate the ACS, they input that command into the OS — the ‘waiter’ — which then interfaces with the actual hardware of the ACS — the ‘cook’ — to activate it. Now imagine, for a moment, that when you gave your order to the waiter, they didn’t actually talk to the cook. They just wrote down your order on their little pad, and then continued standing next to you. And then, inexplicably, a few minutes later, your food appears in their hands, and they serve it to you. You have no idea how the cook got your order from the waiter, and you have no idea how the waiter got your food from the cook. But it still clearly happened.”
“And that’s what’s happening with the Genesis’s main computer?” Danielle questioned.
“Roughly speaking, yes,” Sarah replied. “We don’t know what the black box layer is doing. We know that it’s there — we can examine the ship’s systems with voltmeters to determine that its computers are drawing more energy than the OS alone would require, among other detection methods — but we simply have no way to interface with it. We can’t access it. Even if we attempt to plug into the bare metal, we still get the ‘virtual’ layer. Thus, we can’t examine what’s underneath it… which also means that we can’t know if there are any additional systems or services hidden on the ship.”
“That sounds like a massive security concern!” Mote pointed out. “Why the hell do we let the Genesis keep flying?!”
“Politics,” Kate answered with a derisive snort.
“…That’s ultimately the core of it,” Sarah admitted. “The ETAA has long petitioned to move Genesis into a permanent research role, at least until we can conclusively determine what all of her systems do. But the ETAA’s voice in SERRCom is small. Scott — the Director, and most influential member — isn’t even a part of High Command; he answers to Director Hamasaki. And most of High Command prefers leaving Genesis in active service as a show of force to the rest of the galaxy. It’s really quite short-sighted, in my opinion.”
“Can’t deny the Genesis has been fucking useful, though,” Kate pointed out. “Hell, that fucking ACS alone is a godsend. And I bet the reason we can’t perfectly reverse-engineer the ACS is because the black box OS is doing some of the heavy lifting. Same for the rest of the Genesis’s specs — I bet all of the things that it’s mysteriously good or efficient at, are because of the black box OS!”
“I’m sure, but it’s also possible that the black box OS is running some kind of nefarious program out of our sight, or that there’s even some kind of time bomb. We don’t even know where the bloody ship came from, after all.”
“And yet, SERRCom happily grabbed it, started using it, and has even based most of our advanced tech around it,” Mote remarked. “…This feels like something we’re all going to regret, one day.”
“No doubt…” Sarah muttered, and then took a sip out of her coffee mug. “…Still, the AI’s hacking attempt on Genesis and the following malware scrub gives us a good chance to study the ship some more. She’ll be in dock for that for around a month, I wager.”
“Which means a month of no missions or fights…” Kate grumbled.
“Whenever we’re not on a mission, you complain about not being on a mission. Yet when we are busy with missions, you complain about not having time for research!” Mote exclaimed. “Do you ever not complain about this?”
“If you convince the ETAA to let me research some bigger and better bombs, then I’ll at least have the best of both worlds!”
“Your last proposal involved some unholy abomination of a ‘Drive Bomb’ combined with antimatter weaponry,” Sarah deadpanned.
“Just because Drive Bombs are the most powerful weapon the galaxy’s ever seen doesn’t mean we can’t make them even bigger!” Kate retorted.
“And if SERRCom ever finds itself in the rare position of needing to obliterate an entire bloody solar system in a single strike, then we’ll get back to you.”
“Ungrateful bastards…”
“The world of research really is something, though, huh?” Danielle remarked. “I’ve already learned so much today, just from sitting here!”
“And I’d much rather be elsewhere,” Mote grumbled. “What’s taking so long, Kate? You haven’t even given me the armor yet!”
“Hold your fucking tits, dude, I was just making sure it was ready to be summoned,” Kate shot back. “Just give me another minute or two and then you can whip it out and be on your fucking way.”
“Tch…” Mote scowled in impatience, but nonetheless remained sitting where he was, waiting to get his job over with.
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*
“Trouble does seem to have its way of finding you, doesn’t it, Colonel?”
“It’s all part of the job… supposedly,” Saito replied as he took a seat in General Lead’s office, across the desk from the General himself. “I’m not even the one who had to fight this time.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Lead replied, his hands clasped in front of him on top of his desk. “It’s a shame that you weren’t able to recover anything from the Aldredian Ark, but it’s good that you returned with no casualties.”
“Maybe not, but the Genesis and the Corvette being out of commission for a month still puts a delay in our plans, huh?”
“Indeed. That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with why you asked to speak with me, now, does it?”
“Heh. Ever the astute man, General,” Saito remarked with a smirk. “I had a couple of questions about the state of things, and a request for CSF-1’s mission in the meanwhile.”
“You only just returned to Earth yesterday,” Lead replied, with an inquisitively raised eyebrow. “What could motivate you to leave so quickly?”
“We’re already on alert due to the pending EA investigations, right? So I figure, instead of standing around here with our hands in our pockets, we might as well be out there and doing something to keep us ‘in the game’, so to speak. Something that, hopefully, won’t be nearly as dangerous as checking out another one of those Dreadnought coordinates.”
“We really need to find a defense against Aldredian sensors and hacking equipment…” the General lamented. “…But, very well, Colonel. I’m all ears.”
“Well, first of all, I wanted to ask — I know you want CSF-1 and the Eximius Vir to take part in the eventual raid on EA’s base, once we find it. Do you have any idea how long it’ll be until we do?”
“I’m afraid not. Director Hamasaki has informed me that each report of an EA attack on one of the PMCs helps them narrow down where his base actually is. It seems that it might be within thirty thousand light years of Earth.”
“Galactically speaking, that’s pretty damn close, isn’t it?”
“In a sense, perhaps. Our closest neighbor, Nimalia, is less than ten thousand light years from Earth — that’s true close range. Thirty thousand light years, meanwhile, would take most of the galaxy almost two months to cross. Our Subspace Drives are the only reason that distance seems ‘short’, since our Drives can cover it in three to four days. The distance must be relatively trivial to EA, as well, given that he can perform raids once or twice a week — which would make sense, if he has Subspace Drives of his own.”
“Well, thirty thousand light years is still basically just a quarter of the galaxy, right? If we’ve narrowed down EA’s location that far, then it shouldn’t be too long until we find the base, I’d assume.”
“Thirty thousand light years is still a massive segment of space. Still, the fact that EA has managed a raid or two every week for the past month has helped tremendously in determining where his base is. If he keeps this pattern up, then we may be able to find him in a couple months.”
“A couple months? That’s plenty of time for smaller missions.”
“Indeed… but remember that I want CSF-1 and the Eximius Vir in top shape for this raid, as we don’t know what to expect from EA. As such, I won’t be approving any mission requests if there’s too much danger.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Saito responded dismissively, but as he trailed off, he briefly recalled something he had heard a couple weeks ago when meeting during the Nimalian military summit:
“This might be a silly question,” Rebehka spoke up, “but if this EA person really is a clone of Austin, then have you tried asking Austin what EA will do?”
At the time, he had written off Rebehka’s suggestion by stating that even if EA really did think the same way that Austin did, there wasn’t enough of an informational basis for Austin to predict EA’s actions. Now, however… “General, you say that we don’t know what to expect from EA — have we considered asking Austin Travis? The two are, supposedly, identical, after all.”
“…The thought’s crossed my mind,” the General replied. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. The EIIC’s own investigations should be sufficient.”
“Right…”
“Depending on what we find at EA’s base, we may be able to bring the matter to Travis and see if he has any idea what EA is trying to do. For now, all we can gather is that he’s building an army. Most of his raids on the PMCs have been for raw materials or base components, after all, which suggests that he has his own manufacturies setup already.”
“I suppose that makes sense. I guess we really will just have to wait and see what we find there… but in the meantime, about my mission request. I’d like to take all willing members of CSF-1 and the Eximius Vir back to Nimalia. Specifically, back to Compound Tresnon.”
Lead nodded in understanding. “I suspected that was what you were going to ask.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that, sir,” Saito remarked. “And if you suspected I would ask about this mission, then I’m sure you already have an answer?”
“I do,” the General replied. “So long as you have at least two members of the Eximius Vir with you, I approve of this mission, as well as you bringing all of your normal equipment — including powered armor.”
“Wow. You really want us to be safe, don’t you?”
“Don’t underestimate how important CSF-1 and the Eximius Vir are to SERRCom. We need you in top fighting shape at all times. Honestly, if not for the fact that our recruits are still at WCU, I wouldn’t even be approving this mission. Then again, the recruits are the only reason you’re even requesting this, aren’t they?”
“Not the only reason, but… I suppose this wouldn’t have crossed my mind if they weren’t there.”
“That’s just how things are, Saito. I rather doubt the NSD would have given us permission to intrude upon their own Homeworld if not for the recruits, anyways! Nevertheless, be careful on Nimalia. I doubt these Bleeders you’ve mentioned will be much of a match for the training of CSF-1 or the power of the Eximius Vir, but it sounds as though they’re constantly surprising the local Nimalians. Don’t let them surprise you, too.”
“Of course not, sir,” Saito replied, standing up from his seat in preparation to leave. “I’ll work out our transportation to Nimalia, then. And unless something changes, I’d like to remain there until EA’s base is found.”
“Request granted,” Lead responded. “Do SERRCom proud, Colonel.”
“As if I’d ever plan differently,” Saito declared, offering the General a quick salute before turning to leave the office, ready to prepare for a trip back to Nimalia.