Work Text:
1
The recycler in my cabin made a whirring noise, followed by the familiar thump of clothing being deposited.
I looked up, waiting for ART to say something because I hadn't put anything in the recycler recently so it must be doing something, but it stayed uncharacteristically quiet in the feed. I then realised it was doing the bot equivalent of perching on the arm of a sofa, like humans did in the serials we watched where they would watch someone on the sofa from just out of reach, waiting for a reaction. It was apprehensive, for whatever reason.
It was usually not a good thing when the massive smartass transport was being apprehensive all of a sudden.
I opened the recycler.
I didn't know what I expected. Something exploding in my face, maybe, because I couldn't think of anything that would make ART that nervous.
Instead, I was met with a neatly folded sweater that I pulled out of the bin. On closer inspection it was a hoodie, one of those things that humans like to wear when they're relaxed and lounging around. I'd considered getting one at one point, but decided ultimately I didn't need one since my jacket was good enough for comfort.
Why don't you try it on? ART prodded, insistent. I've been running an experiment, and would like to hear your thoughts.
The fabric was a deep, cool grey colour similar to my jacket, and it felt really soft in my hands. When I bunched it together my fingers sank into the slightly springy material that swallowed them right up. I pulled it on and had to take a moment for my sensors to get used to the sensation of being wrapped in a fluffy cocoon that weighed next to nothing on my body.
I have been testing different methods of material synthesis and composition . The goal is a material that is durable and strong, yet lightweight and comfortable at the same time, while also being able to help regulate the wearer's temperature at a pleasant level without retaining or releasing too much heat.
The sleeves were just long enough that they reached slightly halfway up my palms, and if I pulled my arms in a little I could do what I saw Iris do a lot with her hoodie and let the sleeves flop over my hands entirely. That was… nice. The organic parts of my brain enjoyed that quite a bit.
Now ART was rambling about how the material was also resistant to low velocity projectiles and could absorb and dissipate a degree of energy bolts due to the chemical composition of the fibres and weave and something something science shit.
Before I got too carried away I remembered that I was supposed to be testing this for ART, so I pulled the sleeves back up to my wrist and did some stretches to test my full range of mobility in the hoodie. It stayed snug to my body the entire time and didn't restrict movement at all.
This is very good , I said, and I meant it. It's very comfortable .
ART said primly, My quality control systems are top tier and I have strict standards for what I produce . It was trying to sound professional, but really, it was preening. (After working with it for a while you pick up on these things, though it wasn't exactly subtle about it either.)
Okay, I said. What next? Do you want this back, or…
You may keep it. Then it was withdrawn again, back to that apprehensive perching. After a pause, it said, I made it for you .
I blinked.
It said, You may return the clothing to the recycler if it is not to your liking. The fact that I was able to synthesise the material to specification is sufficient for this experiment.
I didn't dislike it. I liked it a lot, in fact. It was just a surprise to be given something so nice with no precedent, and I was sure if any of our humans were nearby (I was glad they aren't) they would be making some comment about my expression. I didn't even know what to say, so I settled on a sensible, It would be a waste of your hard work to recycle this. I'll keep it.
ART, thankfully, didn't prolong the conversation or ask me about how I feel. It was clearly happy with how things turned out, and I could tell because of the brightness in its voice as it asked if I'd like to watch media.
Of course I'd like to watch media.
2
Once ART determined I wouldn't spontaneously combust after receiving a freely given object (a gift, it supplied, and yes I knew what a gift was, alright. But that's something humans and augmented humans do, and ART and I were of neither of the aforementioned groups) it stopped being nervous about it.
Which is how I came to be holding a glass orb in my hands, its magnetic levitator stand left on the desk in my cabin as I inspected the orb itself.
It was a miniature version of the massive holographic biospheres found on station malls that displayed landscapes, flora, and the occasional fauna used to spruce up the areas and make them look less like constructed consumerist hellscapes. (They sort of worked, if you were lucky to be in a station where marker ads weren't being shoved in your face/feed all the time.)
Unlike the biospheres, my sphere wasn't showing a slice of a biome - it was structured differently as well, with the majority of its display contents forming another smaller sphere just within the glass casing itself. Most of it was a translucent black smoke emulating the darkness of space, with various points of light and other faint colour indicating stars and planets. If I looked from a certain angle I could catch tiny patches of supernovae fanning open in circular bursts, swirling galaxies blinking within the folds of smoke.
This holographic sphere displays an accurate celestial sphere centred around my current position updated in live time , ART explained. In case you are curious about our heading and surroundings.
I didn't know this model of display sphere was available for sale anywhere .
Because they're not. ART huffed. I have replaced the original code with my own and made some adjustments to the hardware for higher holographic resolution. All astronomical data comes from my internal archives and currently active external sensors and instruments.
I peered closer at the sphere. The details do look crisper than those in other miniature spheres I'd seen before, especially down to the smaller stars floating around in the recesses. As I looked closer I noticed something through the smoke, hovering at the centre of the sphere.
It's you! I squinted and sure enough, there was a mini-ART projected in space, a stylised version of it with less detail but undeniably it.
Of course it's me, you little idiot, ART said. Who else would it be?
Okay, asshole, I shot back. Egotistical much?
If I may direct you to what I said seconds ago , it said in its usual sarcastic tone (though it sounded even more sarcastic somehow, which is a feat, honestly) and dropped a clip of our conversation into the feed. The sphere being centred on it. Yes, I remembered. I pointedly deleted the clip.
Because I was capable of being nice sometimes, I refrained from calling it an asshole a second time.
The sphere gave me another idea - the way it was configured reminds me of a snowglobe, so I gave it a tentative shake. As I'd hoped, the smoke swirled with my movement (the astronomical entities remain stationary, because ART promised accuracy and it delivered) and most importantly of all, the mini-ART bobbed around until I stopped.
I shook the orb really hard in the direction of ART's nearest camera. Who's the little idiot now?
(How mature of me.)
How mature of you , ART said dryly, though I sensed a trace of amusement in its words.
3
So I was having a bad day.
What was supposed to be a regular meeting with some associates to exchange data had gone catastrophically wrong and had ended in me missing a few chunks out of my torso and several projectiles lodged in my internal frame. Thankfully, I got all the humans back to ART safely and ART had only offered to blow up our pursuers one time during the whole ordeal.
I was lying on the MedSys platform waiting for it to put me back together while ART sat with me in my feed. It was mercifully quiet as I pore over every single little detail in my recordings and logs of what had happened, analysing all the things I did wrong.
Eventually, it said, You are exhibiting high levels of stress. This is not conducive to recovery .
I know. I said. I fucked up the entire mission .
Our humans are unharmed, the data transfer was successful, and the hostiles were neutralised , it said, then added with a bit of an edge, the only suboptimal part of this mission is that you were hurt.
I still didn't know how to respond to people caring about my wellbeing, so I didn't. Instead, I said, I wasn't able to get as many permissions from StationSec as I needed to fully access the camera network. I should've seen the hostiles coming way earlier. The meeting area had been so heavily jammed the only thing I could connect to was StationSec's feed, leaving my drones useless.
Ever since I got back, assured all the worried humans that I was fine, and dumped myself on the MedSys platform, I'd been picking at my hacking code but nothing was working. What's worse was that I hadn't been able to fully identify the architecture of StationSec, and we hadn't lingered long enough for me to gather information on possible vulnerabilities.
I wrote a few more tests, trying to simulate what I remember of StationSec, and tested my code against them. The tests passed. I didn't know if that meant anything, since I don't have the actual system to test against.
ART said, Research shows that working under stress does not produce desired results . Even short breaks are proven to increase productivity, and it should go without saying that problem solving with a calmer state of mind also benefits performance. It was pushing a bundle of documents on the subject toward me through the feed.
I am perfectly calm , I lied. My performance reliability was at an extremely calm 89%. It was so calm it wasn't even fluctuating. (At least it isn't as low as it was during the Barish-Estranza incident, though what I'm feeling now is similar to what I'd been feeling then.)
You can still take a break. ART insisted. We can watch some media .
After 2.67 seconds of consideration, I said, Fine . Only because my coding attempts weren't going anywhere.
It let me pick the series and I rifled through our shared media storage. I was too wound up to consider anything new right now, so I returned to Sanctuary Moon .
A few episodes later, my performance reliability actually had risen by 2%. ART didn't say anything, but I could feel its smugness radiating through our feed. MedSys had finished its work at this point, and I was lying uselessly on its platform.
I sat up. Are you happy now?
ART said, You may return to your code and I will assist you if you wish, but before that I have something for your consideration.
It paused for suspense then deposited a media file into our feed. It must have been holding on to it in its private storage because I'd never seen it before. I read the title, the metadata, then do a double take and read them again, because what the fuck.
I was looking at the director's cut of Sanctuary Moon 's third movie, the near mythical piece of media that I'd only heard of on forums I definitely don't spend my free time on. Some speculated that it wasn't even real, though a handful of people had claimed to have watched it, but were incredibly tight-lipped about where they'd got it from.
The checksum of ART's file even matched the one provided on the forums.
ART , I said. You've had this for how long, and didn't tell me? I should've asked where it got the thing, but I was more than a little distracted.
(My performance reliability was ticking up again. It was at 93% and rising.)
I intended to present it to you at a more fitting time, but now is an acceptable compromise . It said and allowed me a full 5 seconds more of shock, then, Do you still wish to work on your code? I can return this to storage.
The asshole was bribing me into taking a break. (And it was working.) Fuck no , I said. We're watching that. Let me sit down in an actual chair - don't you dare start without me.
4
Welcome back , ART said as soon as I step on board, before the lock finishes cycling behind me.
Then it dumped a folder into my feed.
I opened it. This is…
Everything has been thoroughly sanitised and deactivated, and all existing payloads have been removed. Static analysis should yield sufficient results for your code development, but I have also prepared partitions of my processing space if you want to conduct dynamic analysis.
ART had been busy the past two system standard months since I'd last seen it - the folder contained dozens of rootkits, each one annotated with what type it was and tagged with what categories of security systems and architectures it would be most effective against.
Since we were still in range of station feed I checked the public database of recorded and reported malware and found that the majority of what I'd been given wasn't in there. These were new, or were hidden so well that nobody had alerted on them yet.
I was still trying to find words to express myself (I was having an emotion and needed a moment) when ART gave me access to a large set of files it has in its storage. I'm glad it didn't dump these on me directly because even if I cleared out the entirety of my stored media (which I would never do), I'd be pressed for space.
It was the decompiled code of the entirety of the StationSec I had struggled to hack a few months ago. Parts of it had already been commented on for vulnerabilities and linked to rootkits in the other folder that take advantage of said vulnerabilities. I felt like I'd just been subjected to the experience of having my enemy's professionally dissected body tossed at my feet. ART, how the fuck?
I didn't say that last part out loud. I wasn't going to get an answer, anyway.
Take care of our humans, and yourself, ART said. I have done some preliminary analysis but the rest I will leave to your expertise, as you are my security consultant.
"Please stand by," my buffer said. "I am working through a backlog of data."
I also have new serials , ART said cheerfully.
5
I accepted the small packet the drone by my door held out to me. It beeped in acknowledgement before drifting off, and I opened the packet to shake out a circular metallic object a little larger than my thumb.
It was a spinner with colourful slices on its face labelled with the words "off", "that", "me", "you", "it", and "this". In the centre was an arrow inscribed with the word "fuck" which spun smoothly when I gave it an experimental prod. The whole thing was affixed to a pin clutch on the back.
I pinged ART.
It must've been waiting impatiently for me to finish poking and examining the thing, because as soon as I ping it said, I have been reviewing my memory archives of our time together and have concluded from the data that your usage of the word 'fuck' has increased significantly throughout the course of our friendship. As such, I have determined that this pin is an appropriate gift.
It (un)helpfully dropped a file into the feed with its statistical analysis neatly packaged together, complete with a short abstract attached at the top summarising its findings. It even formatted the whole thing, added footnotes, and cited sources (itself) for its data. (Have I mentioned that it was a huge show-off?)
When I didn't respond immediately, it added, If it is any consolation, I have noticed a similar trend in my own language usage. I believe this is what humans mean when they say 'we make each other better'.
I was pretty sure that's not what they meant. And nobody said that in real life; the only times it was ever said unironically was in media. I had half the thought to tell ART that it was watching too much media, but then it would point out that we watch the same amount of media since we always watch things together. It would be right, which would suck because it loves being right, and I didn't want to feed its ego. (Why do I always end up making things harder for myself.) (Yes, I was ignoring the actual content of what it said. That was for me to unpack at a later date.)
So I said, I think this would be more 'we make each other worse'.
I think I don't mind, as long as it's you.
Okay, that was unfair. I couldn't come up with a response because the emotion I was trying to schedule for later decided to happen right now (ugh). It was making my insides feel weird. I defaulted to, Fuck you, ART.
It is always good to have data to validate my predictive models.
I gave the pointer a good flick and when it stopped, I held up the face of the spinner to the nearest camera. Does this thing have a predictive model in it too? It knew exactly what I was going to say next. The arrow had landed on "fuck off".
ART sounded amused as it said, I suppose we could watch World Hoppers another time. My assistance is required in one of my lab modules.
As if it wasn't already doing that and a hundred other tasks and processes that it constantly split its attention between (as it was literally built to do), so I didn't bother arguing any further and just rolled my eyes. The pin I set down carefully on the small table beside my bunk, next to the celestial display globe - wouldn't want to lose it while I was out trying not to get shot or eaten by hostile fauna. Then I pulled my sleeves over my hands, curled myself comfortably into my bunk, and started up our next queued episode of World Hoppers .
As expected, ART settled beside me in the feed as the opening theme played.
Thank you , I said, three episodes later, and I didn't have to specify for what. ART tapped me in acknowledgement as the next episode starts.
+1
The physical drive dug into my fingers. If I were human, I would be fidgeting with it now - thankfully I wasn't, so I didn't, but that fact didn't free me from the anxiety that would have been causing it in the first place.
I had made fun of ART for a while after it gave me my hoodie for being nervous. Well.
ART was finishing up its checkup on its crew and completing the procedures for departure from the station we'd just finished visiting. It always had a portion of its attention on me, but I could feel it shift more in my direction as it grew curious about what I was hiding from it. With its scans it could tell I had a physical drive that I hadn't shown it yet but it couldn't tell what was on it, and that was annoying it.
I was already on ART, so it really wasn't the time to be second guessing myself.
That didn't stop me though.
Maybe I should have consulted ART's crew about what it liked, or if they'd given anything to it before, but then they'd start asking questions and even thinking about having to have that conversation made me desperately want to stare at a wall. What did one even get for a giant overpowered machine intelligence that was prone to occasional bouts of homicidal tendencies?
It wasn't like I could present it with a collection of new publications, because it probably already had access to those the moment they came out. New instruments for its deep space mapping were way out of the question. (Did I look like I have that kind of money? Exactly.) Other things that could be useful to it it already was able to manufacture by itself, either in a recycler or in its engineering bay. (Again, it was a giant overpowered machine intelligence that loved to know what was good for itself and everyone around it.)
ART pinged me and I sent it the report I'd put together during my time on the station, saying that pretty much everything was fine and went according to plan. The humans weren't doing anything particularly hazardous this time, and had just gone down to buy some groceries, eat food, and browse through stores. It processed the file and sent back, Acknowledge .
When I got to my cabin, it said, You have a physical data drive.
With how nosy it liked to be, it was a miracle that it managed to wait until now to start bugging me about it.
I said, It's for you , and held it out.
Why didn't you just transmit over the feed? It asked, somewhat petulantly. It would have been more efficient. One of its physical interface drones pings me with an ETA: 21 seconds. Are you compromised in some way? Do you need me to-
I'm fine, ART . I cut it off, then paused. I didn't prepare for this part. (I didn't prepare for anything, and in hindsight, that's what I professionally call a Very Bad Idea. I only knew how to prepare for worst case scenarios and be paranoid when I'm trying to keep humans from getting killed, and that was why I do security, not whatever this was.) It's not that. I ran a full diagnostic and sent it to ART so it would stop fretting.
I didn't even know why I chose to use a physical device. It felt right? Oh no, I was doing that thing humans did where they phrased things as questions to make themselves seem less unsure of their decisions. You'll see.
The drone's arrival saved me from having to answer the questions ART no doubt was going to ask and I let it in, handing it the drive. It took it with a spindly arm and stuck it into a port on its side. Soon enough, ART pulled the files from the drive and deposited them into our shared workspace. (After running them through a truly horrendous gauntlet of checks and malware detection programs. I could feel it through the feed.)
As ART scanned the README in the files, I said, I thought you'd appreciate this .
While I was down on the station I'd been looking around the various feeds for new media serials to download like I usually did, and had somehow ended up in a section hosting a bunch of public repositories. I'd intended to browse briefly if only to potentially come up with an idea for what to get ART, but one project caught my eye, and I had cloned it and bought a physical drive to hold it in.
It was a 2048 language quine relay created by a group of students enthusiastic enough about programming languages to travel from system to system, learning and gathering more languages to add to the relay. There was even a file in the repository for users to learn about the languages themselves, linking to documentation and current maintainer profiles.
Anyway, it seemed like something ART would like, since it liked human ingenuity and students and stuff.
It hadn't said anything in a whole 15.2 seconds, though, and that worried me.
I knew I should've gone with my fallback plan and gotten it World Hoppers merchandise, even if it didn't have much use for physical paraphernalia like humans did. Humans gave each other things all the time and made it look easy.
Starting an episode of media was looking very enticing right now. If I was lucky ART would also get distracted and forget about all this. (I sure wanted to forget about all this. I'd delete this from my memory archives if I wasn't worried about whatever compelled me to do this grabbing hold of me again if I didn't have the memories to remind me what a catastrophic idea this was.)
I appreciate this immensely , ART broke the silence, and suddenly it was curling around me in the feed, giving me a light squeeze. It sounded so enthusiastic it was practically jittering, shifting things around in our workspace. This is an impressive feat of engineering and design! It pleases me to know that there will always be humans interested in exploration and innovation, and novel projects such as these exhibit that spirit so succinctly. It hummed slightly as it put everything back in place. This reminds me of some of the passion projects students at the University choose to pursue.
I was so relieved my performance reliability actually rose half a percent.
Thank you , it said. This is a very thoughtful gift.
Alright, okay, we were getting into emotional territory that I wasn't prepared to be in, so I deflected and said, Do you even have the necessary compilers and interpreters to run the thing?
I am a university transport , it reminded me haughtily. It is part of my function to provide students and teachers with whatever tools they require for their work. Like the big show-off it was, it whipped together a short script to automatically feed the code through the necessary programs and sent it off, opening a stream from it to us so we could read the intermediate output as it spun.
In the end ART liked the quine relay so much it became a permanent fixture on the edge of our workspace. I saw it spinning sometimes when ART was crunching through a particularly dense dataset elsewhere in the ship, and that gave me a light bubbly feeling in my chest.
Emotions, I know. But this one I guess I could tolerate.
