Episode 14
You’re Not Wearing That … Are you?
I was grateful to Lucy for getting me up to speed for my upcoming date with Cherri, but I was still curious how there could be a thriving underground culture, within such a repressive environment. After all, this was a USMC troopship full of convicted criminals, overseen by AIs.
If Cherri was selling her memories to this My Wizard guy, and he was repackaging them for sale, then how did that work? And where did he get the computing resources to create simulations in the first place? The more I learned, the more bizarre things seemed.
“Who’s My Wizard?”, I asked.
Lucy began recounting a remarkable backstory. “There were some former software developers that were convicted and sentenced to the USMC. They met here, while serving their sentences. As a sort of hobby, they started hacking into the troopship systems. It was originally intended just to pass the time. However, they managed to pirate some of the system’s resources and construct an underground infrastructure, including My Wizard. It’s an artificial intelligence that provides a range of functions for the UCC community.”
I was shocked to learn that there was a bootleg AI operating within the troopship environment. An environment, ironically, administered by AIs. It seemed impossible to me that so many unauthorized functions could be running with apparent impunity.
Artificial intelligence, simulations, a functioning economy? “How can these hacks operate without the admin AIs finding out and shutting them down? Aren’t there security programs searching for unauthorized activity in the system?”
Lucy explained, “That group of developers I mentioned, one of them was on the original team that designed the troopship environment, and the AIs that operate it. With his inside knowledge of the system, they were able to install backdoors and niches that allowed a measure of anonymity for the illicit activities to operate. The admin AIs either recognize these activities as normal system operations, or they don’t see them at all.”
“So, all of this bootleg infrastructure started with some developers, hobby-hacking into the system.” Amazing, I thought. “Where are they now?”
Here the story took a darker turn. “We’re not sure. One day the system rebooted and afterwards, they were gone. Everybody’s memories of them disappeared as well. It was as if they never existed.”
I asked the obvious question. “If all the memories of them disappeared, how do you know they ever existed in the first place?”
He explained, “A post appeared on the public message board a few days after the reboot. It was believed to have been authored by the developers and designed to post automatically, if not manually overridden.
It contained a log of the programs they’d created and a crude operating manual. It also explained that the My Wizard AI could maintain the illicit functionality indefinitely. All that was required from us, was to run some utility programs from time to time.”
It seemed far-fetched to me. “How confident are you that this story is true?”
Lucy said, “Well, there are those who believe that My Wizard, and the other shadow systems, were actually created and installed by the AIs.”
I couldn’t see the point of such an elaborate deception. “What possible purpose could that serve? Why create all this infrastructure, then present it as if it’s an illegal black-market operation?”
“Well, the most popular conspiracy theory is that the bootleg substructure is intended to serve as a kind of social safety valve in the troopship environment. With so much control wielded by the AIs over every aspect of our existence, this ‘safety valve’ provides a cheat space for the UCCs. A way to create the illusion of limited autonomy, while still maintaining complete control.”
I was skeptical. “Seems like a lot of work, just to trick us into believing we have some control.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Yeah. I’m not a believer myself. I think what we have today, is simply a composite structure that grew organically over time. A combination of the original design for the troopship environment, and all the resulting Hodgepodge from the bootleg stuff. It provides just enough functionality and concealment to allow us a measure of autonomy.
Ultimately, the system gets what it wants, which is success on the battlefield, and we get what we want, which is some control over our existence. As long as this symbiotic equilibrium is preserved, all the stake holders are relatively content. No point in rocking the boat.”
I found Lucy’s interpretation to be thoroughly rational. There was certainly, no point in rocking the boat.
“So, what happened to the missing developers? Were they deleted or something?” I wondered if deletion was the default fate for any UCC caught violating troopship rules, or if there was some proportionality to punishment here.
Lucy responded, “Well, that’s certainly a possibility, but I think the AIs probably quarantined them for analysis. The system would want to study how and why they created this parallel substructure.”
“Do you think the AIs put them to work, developing ways to leverage their creations into tools for the system to further control the UCC community?”
“It’s possible, but remember, if the system is getting the outcomes it requires, it’s not going to change anything. We’re only at risk if we start failing on the battlefield. That’s why every UCC trains so hard in the sim, and fights so hard in combat. What little autonomy we have today, is totally dependent upon our success as a fighting force.”
I was still a newbie in troopship land, but I was beginning to understand what it meant to be a UCC. As convicted criminals, we were forced to fight on behalf of a humanity that had unjustly enslaved us. Yet, there was an undeniable pride in becoming a capable soldier, a comrade whom fellow soldiers could rely on to stand with them and fight, no matter the odds.
And we fought for a common cause. Not to support humanity’s interstellar expansion, but to preserve the UCC community’s way of life. A way of life that depended on maintaining a hard-won measure of autonomy. Our shared knowledge of what was at stake, was a force multiplier the AIs could never understand.
For the first time since I woke up in the training module, I felt like I belonged here. Not as in justly convicted and sentenced, since I strongly believed I had committed no crime, but in the sense that my existence, such as it was, had a clear and noble purpose. As a UCC, it was possible, even essential, for me to live a consequential existence.
Buoyed by my emerging pride as a member of the UCC warrior community, I felt ready to commit to becoming the best Marine I could possibly be.
Then, out of the blue, Lucy asked, “You’re not wearing that outline avatar to your date with Cherri, are you?”
I was totally stunned by the question. “What do you mean? She said she liked my avatar.” My resolution to be ‘authentic’ was starting to crumble.
Before I knew it, Lucifer had texted me a link. He said, “Click on the link and upload the code.”
I did as he instructed and found myself standing before a mirror, in a space illuminated by a diffuse light, which seemed to emanate from no specific source. Obviously, a simulation. Lucy’s avatar was standing next to me, arms crossed, wearing a mildly irritated expression.
“Listen, you’ve got a date, in person, with the USMC’s undisputed alpha female. You can’t show up looking like … that.” He gestured dismissively towards my reflection in the virtual mirror and added, “Besides, you never get a second chance to make a first impression.”
As I surveyed my minimalist appearance, I had to admit he had a point.
“Okay professor, I get it. But unless you’re willing to lend me some combat credits for a new avatar, I’m kind of stuck with the crime scene look.”
He said, “I’ll do better than that. I’ll loan you one of my classic avatars.” Looking past my image in the mirror, I watched Lucy walk to a lighted panel on the far wall and punch in a code. Several racks of avatar images appeared out of thin air.
He continued, “Besides, I don’t trust you picking out an avatar on your own.” I felt like an elementary school student, being dressed by his mother for the first day of class.
Lucy navigated the now crowded space, as he diligently appraised the merchandise. Rejecting several possible looks in quick succession, he paused, carefully assessing one of the candidates.
“This one’s a pretty good look, but maybe too obvious.” He glanced over at me, as if to solicit my opinion. I had no idea what he meant by ‘too obvious’, but before I could ask a clarifying question, he moved on to the next avatar.
“Ahhh, here we go.” He pulled a shapeless form off the rack and held it up, nodding his head. “Yeah, this is it.” Lucy approached me with his selection and handed it to me. As I grasped it, the avatar began sublimating into my skin, until I was fully clad in one of his so-called classic avatars.
I studied my augmented form in the mirror, as Lucy stood, admiring his stylistic fashion sense. Tall and brooding, it was definitely a departure from my previous forgettable look. Longish dark hair and a full beard, combined with my (now) craggy facial features, lent a certain combat veteran authenticity to my new look. An authenticity I hadn’t yet earned.
Trying to sound as if I knew something about what it meant to be cool in troopship land, I asked if maybe this avatar wasn’t too obvious.
Lucy chuckled and said, “Not at all. An eye patch would be too obvious, but this is just about perfect.”
Now, thinking that I understood what he meant by ‘too obvious’ and hoping to enhance my image still further, I suggested adding a sidearm, or some body armor.
He just frowned and shook his head. “That would be stupid. You’re going on a date, not a combat mission.” I hadn’t imagined Lucy to be such an exacting fashion critic. I decided to refrain from any more stylistic suggestions.