Thankfully the now confirmed Terran Rix was garbed again. Watching the Terran get dressed had been not very exciting, but it kept Munto from having to respond to the one of 300 and growing TACITNet demands for updates.
To say that their fellow TACITs were excited/scared/ridiculously curious about the Terran would have been the understatement of the century.
Already, Munto’s location had been requested at least fifteen times by TACITs wanting to know whom else was closest to confirm the results. Munto hadn’t given it, but did check the network to see broadcast locations. They and Rix were easily three weeks from the nearest sign of civilization and a solid six from the nearest fellow TACIT.
Munto wasn’t about to explain this and their fellow TACITs almost certainly had a good idea where Munto was likely to be given their filed exploration plan, but just because that lowered the general area to a dozen star systems, it didn’t make it any less tedious if the other TACITs came looking for them.
“So what’s the verdict on food, Em?” Rix asked, picking up the pile of what was left of the medical scanner and dumping it into the mass recycling bin.
Munto had left an autoprocess evaluating that and so went over virtually to check it. The results… were less than surprising, given the earlier criteria measurements on biometrics, but some of these things were almost certainly toxic, even to Terrans.
No, Munto wasn’t about to feed the Terran toxins to see how they reacted. For one thing, Munto knew nothing of organic medicine in general and absolutely nothing about Terran medicine in specific.
Munto picked a ‘non-toxic’ item at somewhat random, did a quick image grab of how it normally appeared in typical preparation and presented it on a screen adjacent to Rix.
“I believe I have identified an source of organic nutrients which should be compatible with your digestive system,” Munto said.
Rix appeared to study the image.
“A piece of fruit? Is that it?” Rix asked.
“It is quite nourishing, I can assure you,” Munto said, and displayed a list of nutrients alongside the picture.
“I guess I was hoping for something a bit more solid. Some hydrax potatoes and a lab steak would be just about perfect. Oh and a beer wouldn’t go amiss either, but I can understand if you don’t want me drinking until we’re out of danger,” Rix said, half-slumping to the floor in a kind of half-seated, half-laying posture.
Munto tried looking up the terms ‘lab steak’ and ‘hydrax potatoes’ and came up with very little. Given the lexicon’s definition of ‘steak’ and ‘lab’, Munto was able to deduce that a lab steak as far as this Rix was concerned was a high protein food produced in a lab environment and intended to simulate having been taken from a non-sentient.
The thought of ‘meat eating meat’ seemed more than a bit abhorrent to Munto, but they put it out of their mind.
Next, the search for potatoes revealed trillions of recipes, many with so many different types of ingredients, it was hard to determine what might actually be what the Terran considered a ‘potato’. The issue appeared to be with the term ‘hydrax’. This was not included within the lexicon and so Munto would have to ask.
“What is a hydrax potato? It was not included as part of the database and is not within the lexicon,” Munto explained.
Rix raised an eyebrow.
“Well… uh… a Hydrax Potato is a potato that’s been adapted for the Hydrax colony. They require a bit of extra nutrients compared with regular potatoes, but given that they cook up to being almost neon blue, they’re all kinds of fun to make into various foods. Are you telling me they don’t have those anymore?” Rix’s face dropped slightly as this last bit.
“Not in a way that I am able to readily identify, but I will continue my search. I believe I will be able to produce that lab steak though,” Munto said, hoping to at least partially satisfy the Terran.
“That’s great. And the beer? Or shall I just stick to water?” Rix asked.
“Let me check the database first,” Munto said and turned back virtually to the data stack.
Munto started the lab steak in a petri dish in the printer. It seemed wrong, but it was as the Terran had requested, so who were they to judge.
Using a color bias to search through the ‘cooked potato’ recipes, it appeared that by hydrax potatoes, the Terran in fact meant the artificial Sternium potatoes. However, due to an interplanetary fungus which took an extreme liking to this type of potatoes, no specimens remained, even in a protected lab environment. Nor was there a genomic profile available to attempt to recreate them in a sterile environment.
It seemed strange to Munto. The Sternium potatoes were created by a mix of crossbreeding and genetic manipulation. The genomic profile should have been on file. It was anomalous.
Munto fired off a separate query into the TSC database regarding genomic profiles of common foods and then went back to their current data stack.
‘Beer’ as the Terran had called it could in fact be very nourishing. Except that it too was mildly poisonous. Some varieties of beer were so poisonous that a majority of galactic species would be unable to consume it without severe effects. Munto decided it would be best to avoid poisoning the Terran even if they did request it.
Munto took a moment to consider this though. Had the Terran already deduced that they were the last and were in fact trying to end their own life?
Munto wasn’t exactly equipped to handle a being who was intent on terminating their own existence, particularly one that was as strong as the Terran evidently was.
‘Water’ on the other hand was comparatively innocuous. Toxic to a number of species, but given those species’ chemical make-up, it was understandable. The Terran would have to settle for water for the time being.
Munto sent a container of water to be printed after the lab steak had finished.
“What’s this you’re printing up now?” Rix asked, pointing.
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“The lab steak you requested. I do not understand the concept of meat consuming meat, but I am not an organic,” Munto replied.
“But… it’s not cooked. I mean, I can cook it, but I’d need somewhere to do that,” Rix looked a bit downcast and looked around the room, not obviously spotting whatever he was looking for.
Munto considered this. It honestly hadn’t come to awareness, but now that it was called out, the ‘cooked meat’ recipes were substantially more available compared with the ‘raw meat’ recipes.
“I’m sorry, but I do not have facilities onboard for such preparation measures,” Munto admitted.
“Nothing in it that will kill me. Just… you know, a bit weird eating a raw steak,” Rix looked a bit disgusted at the concept. “I haven’t done that since I was camping one time and we weren’t allowed a fire.”
Munto searched if there was a reasonable way of printing some pre-cooked meat. There appeared to be a few entries, but would require a full reprinting compared with being able to use the existing printout.
“I believe I have located an alternative, I will place it in the print queue to follow a container of water,” Munto said.
“I’ll recyc the lab meat. At least until we can cook something. I can’t wait to eat something cooked. It’s been so long,” Rix gestured vaguely and picked up his antiquated looking data device. “And I know we’re solving my stomach at the moment, but have you had a chance to look into wireless data transfer? This thing didn’t come with a data port and I don’t figure you’d have a plug for it even if it did.”
“I have not. But as indicated, let us attempt to resolve the issue of nutrition for yourself prior to other priorities,” Munto commented and decided to check the walking frame’s augmentation (100%). “The walking frame has been augmented with the described ‘Terran grade’ ocular sensors and will now be returning to review the blocks for functionality.”
“Great! Hopefully you can see what I mean this time,” Rix smiled slighly.
Munto hoped so too. While the Terran was annoying and an organic, having revealed a sensory ‘hole’ would be a far bigger find for the TACITs.
When the walking frame entered, Rix looked over at it and immediately made a noise.
“Ugh! That’s the creepiest thing I’ve seen in a while,” he said, not exactly moving, but definitely not getting any closer.
“Please provide clarifying information,” Munto prompted.
“Well, it looks like you just shoved two eyes on the fingers and are waving them around,” Rix said, gesticulating a bit more rapidly than he had done so far.
“It was the most efficient augmentation to suffice the temporary need for the sensor apparatus without permanent changes to the walking frame,” Munto explained, entirely assured in their logic.
“Doesn’t make it any less creepy,” Rix indicated.
Munto decided to ignore the Terran for the moment and use the walking frame to observe the blocks the Terran had brought over from the vessel. It was immediately obvious was the Terran had been referring to. One set of blocks were clear and the other appeared to be a blue in the Terran end of the spectrum.
When Munto checked with the default ocular sensors, the difference was simply not present. Munto decided to check the spectra associated with the standard ocular sensors and compare those with those of the ‘Terran Grade’ sensors.
It took a few moments to align the charts, but the issue was immediately apparent. A rather substantial notch, for lack of any better term, had been taken from the core of that part of the spectrum. It effectively rendered that part of the spectrum as clear in the processing methods designed into the default sensors.
Munto was shocked. This is something clear and obvious. Something that had been done with clear intent.
Munto rapidly made a post into TACITNet requesting confirmation regarding the spectrum results as well as the logic basis behind the notch of the spectrum.
Munto tried to consider what logic might have been behind this kind of change and also contemplated how long it had been in place.
Returns from TACITNet were already coming in. A mix of disbelief in several cases and a number of assurances that this must be the result of a faulty template. And only a few moments later, the entire post was removed with no reason being given.
Post removal on TACITNet was practically impossible and unheard of. But Munto had just witnessed it.
A private message chimed its arrival.
***
Report immediately to the nearest TACIT repair facility for restoration of full standard templates and deep core maintenance.
If unable to comply, provide location and a towing vessel will be issued to collect you immediately.
***
Munto had never seen anything like it. Never heard of anything like it.
Something about it made Munto nervous. Nothing that was logical, but something in their deep core made itself be felt.
Munto decided to check their other post regarding the Terran scan results.
This too was erased with no trace of it having ever been posted.
Two posts… gone.
The TACITs had a fairly strict code of conduct and the obscuring/deletion of data was the closest thing that could be considered unforgivable, at least in the context of TACITs. They understood that organics did it all the time, but between TACITs, it was one of the few acts which would suggest an immediate need for repairs.
Did… was that what this was? A fellow TACIT believing that Munto was in need of repairs?
Yes… yes, that must be it. It was the only solution that made sense.
After all, Munto had gone through delivering information that told TACITNet that Terrans once again existed and then questioned sensor spectra. If Munto had been on the other end, they too might have suggested that the TACIT in question needed immediate repair.
An internal chime sounded and Munto looked back at the query into the TSC database regarding common foods. The query presented itself as empty.
Munto looked askance at the query and looked at the database itself again.
Only… it… it wasn’t there. Or… or maybe it was there and their database connections were simply starting to fail.
Yes, yes that must be it.
Except… Munto could still access almost all other normal databases. It didn’t make logical sense.
Munto looked hard at the segment of the TSC database they had stored in cache, more out of habit than anything else.
“So you see what I mean now?” Rix prompted, bringing Munto back into focusing on the room.
“I do. It appears that my default systems are mistemplated and will need repaired at the earliest opportunity,” Munto said, as affirmatively as they felt appropriate.
“Everything needs maintenance. Even templates, despite what those drips would have you think. I’ll bet half of my templates that weren’t in stasis are corrupted by now,” Rix said, a tight grin on their face.
“Indeed. I appear to have been cut off from the TSC database I was using so I will have to see what else I can provide in the way of repairs to your vessel and nourishment for yourself before we depart for the nearest station, where more permanent repairs can be carried out,” Munto said.
“Cut off? What for? Too much use?” Rix asked, a strange, but somewhat jovial look about their face.
“I suspect it is because I appear to be malfunctioning to my fellow TACITs and therefore require maintenance,” Munto said simply.
“You don’t seem broken to me,” Rix replied.
“I am substantially more complex than your vessel and so may be on the verge of malfunctioning as a result of latent defects in my formulation,” Munto explained.
“Oh, like birth defects? Nothing that should be able to be sorted with a bit of dock time then. Maybe get a visit into a head doc yourself,” Rix laughed a bit.
“It is understandably unusual for a TACIT to claim to have discovered a Terran, a species which has been declared extinct for over 200 years, and then to claim to have discovered an error in sensor handling,” Munto faltered almost immediately after having made the statement.
Rix noticed.
“Did… I just hear you right? Terrans were declared extinct?” Rix’s voice cracked slightly.
Munto decided to be direct about this. There was no other good way of addressing the issue at large.
“That is correct. You are the first and only Terran on record in the whole of galactic society as of this moment,” Munto clarified.
“But… but what happened to everyone else? What happened? Was there a war? Some disease? What happened?” Rix seemed almost slightly panicked.
“I don’t know. Nobody does. It was all before I was even formulated. There were Terrans and then… there weren’t,” Munto wanted to query the databases regarding the Terran disappearance, but feared a further recall notice.
“But that’s impossible,” Rix dropped their data device and seemed to look at the screen that Munto was using almost pleadingly.
Munto considered everything and decided one step at a time.
“Your container of water is ready,” they intoned, desperately trying not to think about the private message ordering them in for deep core maintenance.