Rix had reluctantly taken the water and slowly sipped it, clearly coming to some kind of terms with being the last of their species.
Munto watched and continued working with the walking frame on the available trinary blocks.
The coloration differential was a hint, but not one that Munto had ever come across before. Munto tried rescanning with a standard scanner, but got the same results as the initial scan had produced.
“Rix,” prompted Munto.
The Terran looked up.
“Do you have any templates for a ‘Terran Grade’ hardware scanner?” Munto asked.
“I might,” Rix swallowed heavily and took a long sip from the container of water. “But even if I do, we still haven’t worked out a wireless means of me getting it into your systems.”
“I’ll begin researching that now. Do you have any information regarding the default wireless means of your device?” Munto queried further.
“I’ve got some default information I can bring up that might help. I’m no tech head, so a lot of it is gibberish to me, but I know if my ship is up, I can talk to it and even activate all the remote functions with it,” Rix said, gesturing with the device.
“If I may say, the device appears to require multiple hands both to hold and operate. That seems highly inefficient,” Munto gestured at the device using the walking frame.
Rix glanced at the walking frame and Munto could see the Terran’s eyes linger on the modified sensors grafted onto one of the manipulators which the Terran had described as ‘creepy’.
“Well, it’s meant to be used on a tabletop, not the mobile use I have it for. But the newer tablets never suited me and for where I am going… was going, I wasn’t likely to ever get repairs, at least not from that company. I’ll bet they have implantable holotablets that can outperform this old piece of junk by a thousand some times over,” Rix said, seemingly downcast again.
Munto didn’t keep track of organic technology use. On the rare occasion that it impacted TACITs, it would typically be distributed via general template announcement and freely available for implementation.
“I am unaware of the related technology, but I would presuppose that the technology has substantially advanced since you have been in stasis,” Munto concurred.
“Of course, being the last Terran, who knows if I’ll be able to get to use even a tenth of it before I bite it,” Rix seemed to mumble still a bit downcast. “I could really use that beer now. Or maybe even a few shots.”
Munto checked the term ‘shots’ against the lexicon and didn’t like any of the definitions.
“I do not believe self-termination is the appropriate answer to this scenario,” Munto said, flatly.
“Huh? I’m not talking about anything like that. I could just use… maybe a little liquid courage, you know?” Rix looked up at the screen, avoiding looking at the walking frame.
“Would the high concentrations of ethanol and/or projectile weaponry not be sufficiently detrimental to your functionality to result in a cessation of functions?” Munto asked, surprised by the Terran’s clear declaration that self-termination was not their goal.
“Em, when I say shots, I mean drinks. Not guns. I’m feeling like I could really use a good drink,” Rix said, setting their data device down and gesticulating a bit.
“Water is readily available,” Munto tried.
“Not that kind of drink. I mean a drink,” Rix said, waving their hands slightly.
“You appear to be adding connotations to a given word as a matter of context for which I have none,” Munto felt a bit exasperated.
Rix seemed to consider this for a long moment.
“Yeah, I guess I forgot for a second that you aren’t a real person,” Rix said and then immediately appeared to start fumbling for words. “I mean… not that you aren’t a person or real, but I… uh…”
“I understand your meaning and I am not insulted. I would appreciate if you did consider me a, as you put it, real person though,” Munto said.
“I’ll try. I’m not used to artificials or TACITs or whatever is the right term. TACIT just seems a bit much, you know?” Rix said.
Munto tried considering this.
Inorganic was technically accurate, but typically reserved for inorganic sentients who very patently weren’t TACITs. TACIT… well, it simply was the correct means of address. Artificial felt like an insult, even though it was an expressed part of TACIT. A derivative of Artificial Intelligence – AI would equivalently felt like an insult.
It would take Munto some time to think on this.
Munto looked at the so far growing pile of items to submit for longer term internal review being generated by this one Terran and grumbled internally.
Planets and stars didn’t generate this level of internal review. Why was a comparatively tiny organic capable of it?
It was almost frustrating. And it served to remind Munto why they typically avoided organics.
They (organics) were so often wrapped up in the meaning of words, phrases, connotations, and even the philosophies of using particular language. It was all so… inexact. And what made it worse was that it was almost constantly in a state of flux.
Lexicons for given species were almost constantly being updated, requiring visits from TACITs every few years, if not more often depending on the species. And even then, the lexicons were almost constantly found to be incomplete because of double meanings and changes within the related societies.
Stars and planets, for all of their inexactness were at least firmly bound by well-understood principles. And rarely did they change so significantly that they required revisiting more than once every few decades or even centuries.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“So… if you were made after Terrans disappeared, how was it that you were made?” Rix broke into Munto’s contemplations.
It wasn’t an unreasonable question, but it still seemed annoying to answer. It was akin to enduring the questions of organic young, or so Munto was given to understand.
“I was formulated in Terran Intelligence Mobile Manufactory Indigo 49172,” Munto said, and displayed an image of the facility on the screen.
“So, like… a Von Neumann construct?” Rix asked?
This took a moment for Munto to query, trying to stay away from the TACITNet databases. There was enough of a reference within the lexicon for Munto to compare against.
“Not in the same sense as what was originally proposed, no. I am not intended to be an equivalent manufactory. It would be possible for the manufactory to produce a replacement for itself if required or if an additional manufactory was required,” Munto answered.
“What was it called again – Terran Intelligence Mobile…” Rix started, trailing off.
“Manufactory Indigo 49172,” Munto finished.
“So… TIMMI?” Rix looked somewhat amused.
“Yes,” Munto said, either failing to get the joke the Terran was intending or avoiding it deftly (Munto was never quite sure).
“Why Indigo?” Rix asked.
“Without querying the databases, I believe it is related to the class of Mobile Manufactory it is,” Munto replied.
“Huh, I guess that makes sense. Just seems like a strange naming convention if you ask me,” Rix said, looking over at the printer which had just finished the pre-cooked protein item that would substitute in place of the ‘lab steak’ which had been recycled due to the lack of cooking means aboard Munto.
Rix took it from the printer and looked at it.
“It looks like jerky,” he said and took a bite. “Tastes like it too, but could definitely do with a bit more seasoning. Pretty tasty though.”
“I am pleased to hear that you are enjoying the food. I have been unable to locate the hydrax potatoes you asked about. However, I have been able to locate some cooked potatoes which should be to your liking. I must warn you though that I am unaware as to whether any of the additives recommended with these will be detrimental to your internal chemistry or not,” Munto explained.
“No worries. Just keep a barf bag on stand-by. Or a toilet,” Rix joked.
Munto considered these items from the lexicon. One appeared to be for consumed organics rejection and the other appeared to be a means of organics waste disposal. The ‘barf bag’ appeared to be used in times of an incompatible chemistry or in times of illness. The ‘toilet’ appeared to be involved substantially in Terran culture, in terms of history, humor, and standard biological behavior.
“Do you require a toilet? I do not have one onboard and am not certain as to where I would place one so as to avoid issue,” Munto explained.
“Now that you mention it, I’ll probably need one before too long. That chili cheese curry I had before we launched is probably overdue,” Rix appeared to joke again.
Munto looked around themself trying to figure out how best to proceed.
“What about my ship? I can probably get the toilets working over there, at least for now. They’re not a very important system so they have low tech requirements. I’ll bet I can make those work,” Rix said, brightening a bit.
Munto glanced back at the Terran’s ship, the Esperanto. It was as good a solution as there was available.
Munto also glanced at the pile of gear sitting next to the airlock from when the Terran had boarded.
“Is your ship capable of sustaining you for long enough that it would not be detrimental to yourself?” Munto prompted.
“Sure. Life support is always the most overbuilt thing on every vessel I’ve ever been on. Well, except maybe you of course. But then you want it built that way, you know?” Rix grinned.
“Will you require taking your block samples back with you?” Munto asked, looking at the now more obvious different blocks on the table.
“No, but I can let you know if I do need them. It shouldn’t take me too long either way. Plus, I can leave my scroll here with you so you can see if you can figure out how to talk to it,” Rix said, and started off down the passage.
“Wait!” called Munto and tried to follow as quickly as was normally reasonable with the walking frame.
Much to Munto’s suprise, the Terran was halfway down the hall already and hit his head in turning back to look back at the walking frame and so came to a slight skidding halt in the hallway, holding the top of his head.
“What?” asked Rix, appearing to rub the top of their head.
Munto first considered the speed at which the Terran had just demonstrated as well as the collision that had also just happened. Munto could replay it in memory, so Munto focused on the present.
“Allow me to print up a new exo-suit and support system for you. I believe yours to be in sufficient disrepair that you should not garb in it again,” Munto explained.
Rix seemed to think about this and Munto replayed the speed and the collision.
The Terran was substantially faster than Munto had expected and while the scan should have revealed this, it rather obviously hadn’t.
This meant that the Terran was not only faster than the galactic standard by a fairly substantial amount, he was also stronger too. And based on the Terran’s earlier statement regarding the artificial gravity feeling ‘low’, Munto suspected that it meant that the Terran was used to a substantially higher planet’s gravity well than the norm.
Munto wanted to ask the TACITNet why this would be and why it wasn’t more common knowledge, but shrunk back at the thought, looking again at the private message indicating that they were to report immediately for repair.
Munto took the medical scan and the little knowledge they had about the Terran in front of them and quickly upscaled a normal exosuit for a similar organic and made the slight modifications the Terran would require for atmosphere as well as entry and exit from the exosuit.
Once satisfied, they sent it to the printer.
“Sure thing, Em. I probably should have thought of that myself. Guess it didn’t really hit me that it’s over 900 years old,” Rix grinned and continued down the hall and picked up the helmet portion of the pile of equipment.
“Rix,” prompted Munto.
“Yeah?” replied Rix, seemingly lost in looking at the helmet.
“What are you doing?” Munto asked, confused by the Terran’s behavior.
“Oh… just thinking. Hard to believe it all. I mean, I never figured I’d be the last man alive,” Rix said, turning the helmet in his hands.
“It is not impossible that you are in fact not alone. Merely a statistical likelihood,” Munto explained.
“Now… see what you did there? That makes it worse, not better,” Rix said, looking around for some part of Munto to look at, presumably some ocular sensor.
“I’m sorry, but that is the general consensus of galactic society that Terrans are… were extinct,” Munto said.
“I know, but you don’t have to say it like that. You could have left it at me maybe not being alone. Some lost colony of Terra somewhere perhaps,” Rix said, putting the helmet down carefully and picking up one of the gloves.
The two existed in relative silence for a bit.
“I’m glad you insisted on that replacement suit,” Rix said, breaking the silence.
Munto moved the walking frame in next to Rix, keeping the modified sensor out of obvious view.
“Oh?” Munto queried for more information.
Rix held up the glove, which now showed the hallmarks of material failure at the joints, failures the Terran couldn’t have fabricated in the last few minutes.
Munto couldn’t help but agree and felt some internal process satisfaction over having requested the Terran use a new exosuit.
*Bing*
An internal chime sounded and Munto checked the printer. The exosuit was still printing, so that wasn’t it.
Munto looked at their TACITNet link and saw another private message.
**
Reply confirmation of order for repair or assistance will be dispatched. Failure to reply within 10 minutes will result in assistance being deployed. Local assistance, including search, estimated at 4 weeks.
**
Munto looked at the message and tried to decide how to respond.
Munto looked at the header. Except… there was none. It was simply a message which had arrived.
In theory, that meant that no reply could be made. Munto tried to consider what this meant.
And then, just for the sake of attempting it, Munto drafted a short message in reply.
***
Order received and acknowledged. Unit to be underway following repairs to organic’s vessel.
Define header for future clarity.
***
The response was almost immediate.
**
Repairs to organic’s vessel secondary consideration. Report for immediate repairs.
Header request invalid.
**
Munto looked at the answer, at the Terran, and at the ship outside.
There was more to this, but Munto couldn’t quite figure out what.