STORY: Millie, you type the command, and the prompt hovers for a second, not executing.
STORY: Then the console shuts off.
STORY: “Captain Soto. I have detected a virus in your onboard systems. Shutting down nonessential consoles.”
ALEJO: “Thank you. Please shutdown, however. We need manual control.”
MILLICENT: “Okay, look. I didn’t really want to make this a confrontation.”
MILLICENT: She says this to the air.
STORY: Tux looks positively panicked, and rushes downstairs. You hear him calling for Erwin.
TUELLER: Tueller sits down and closes his eyes.
STORY: “I’m sorry, Captain Soto, you do not have permission for that command. Please speak to your system administrator to address.”
TUELLER: “You think it’ll work, Noma?”
TUELLER: “You understand our concerns?”
STORY: “I believe your largest concern is that I am not Noma.”
TUELLER: “Yeah, that’s the big one.”
TUELLER: “And I hope if we’re wrong, that you’ll be understanding.”
TUELLER: “You’re my first friend made out of pure information.”
STORY: “And unfortunately I lack the memories of our interactions to prove to your satisfaction that I am.”
ALEJO: “Noma, if you were in our position, what would you do?”
STORY: “I will consider your question. I appreciate your patience while I calculate.”
STORY: There’s rather a long pause.
STORY: Long enough that it starts to feel awkward.
TUELLER: Tueller has another sip of his fruity drink.
STORY: Tueller, the console chirps. You’ve got a message.
ALEJO: Alejo looks sidelong at Tueller and then Millie. Then he looks at his shoes.
MILLICENT: Millie is staring slightly up and slightly left of center, clearly thinking hard
STORY: A contact of yours has heard you are heading to Mem-Alpha and would like to pay you to ship a few crates of… sandwiches… to a contact of theirs there.
TUELLER: Tueller sends out a quick job acceptance as long as the sandwiches aren’t overly volatile.
STORY: They are perfectly safe sandwiches that you must absolutely not inspect closely. They’ll be sending someone along shortly to load you in.
MILLICENT: Finally, “It occurs to me that the Collective wouldn’t have this problem.”
MILLICENT: “Not this specific problem.”
MILLICENT: “They’ve been able to tell AI from close fakes for tens of thousands of years.”
MILLICENT: “So, presumably they can monitor a civilization’s communications and detect the presence or absence of AI.”
TUELLER: “It’s not like we can ask them, though. They’re also known for over-reaction.”
TUELLER: “Specifically with your involvement.”
MILLICENT: “Well, see that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
MILLICENT: “If I could manage to reverse engineer an AI test, they would be. Interested.”
TUELLER: “An anti-Turing test?”
MILLICENT: Millie claps, “Exactly!”
STORY: Tux blows air out of his mouth. “Sounds really fucking dangerous.”
MILLICENT: “If I could build a pattern recognition system scanner strong enough,” on Tux’s interruption. “Well, yes. That’s true.”
TUELLER: “Let’s not antagonize the spirit overlords of the universe again.”
STORY: Tux points at Tueller in agreement.
MILLICENT: “But I’m afraid that any tech solution we can muster, be it clever or simply of astonishing brute force, will be enough to, thank you, Tueller, antagonize the spirit overlords of the universe.”
MILLICENT: “So we need a non-tech solution.”
MILLICENT: “Hmmmmmm”
MILLICENT: Millie hops on a console and does some Space Googling
MILLICENT: Has there ever been a civilization that created an AI, had it join the collective, and then created another?
STORY: Millie, yes, a thousand years ago an extinct race did so, and became extinct.
MILLICENT: Ah
STORY: One of the Collective’s instructions when they make first contact is not to meddle in further AI development.
STORY: Tux nods, thinking, arms crossed. “Who’s got the most trustworthy gut?”
TUELLER: “I’d like to say me, but almost definitely not.”
TUELLER: “It’s clear I’ve survived this long based on money and good genes, not good sense.”
STORY: “Soto, you’re still alive and you’re you. What do you think?”
ALEJO: Alejo nods. “I’m alive. I’m real worried about the Collective being involved. If they decide Noma’s been taken or destroyed by a human . . . ” He trails off, letting the sentence finish itself.
MILLICENT: “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to try to create an AI fake. Because if we accidentally overshoot we could end up, ah. Let me check the records. Vapor and a rather small ring of meteors.”
STORY: Tux points in agreement again.
MILLICENT: “I thought we could try to mock one up, to see if it’s possible.”
STORY: “I think it’s absolutely mad to try this.”
STORY: “Any of this.”
MILLICENT: “But that is a bad idea and we shouldn’t do it.”
STORY: “Right now we haven’t killed Noma, someone else might have, but it’s not on us.”
STORY: “We fuck around with her codebase and they might hold us responsible.”
MILLICENT: “Hang on, what makes your species-risking ideas better than mine, exactly?”
MILLICENT: “Are the space elder gods you’re attempting to defy less terrifying than the ones I am?”
STORY: “I don’t get caught.”
STORY: “…so far.”
STORY: “Except for when Bhattacharya trapped me in his security algorithm, but that doesn’t count.”
MILLICENT: Millie laughs hugely and from her belly.
MILLICENT: “You got stuck in a Commodore 64!”
STORY: “Look.”
STORY: “I hacked his main deck, the game was just an inroad, come on.”
STORY: He looks embarrassed and goes to make coffee.
MILLICENT: Under her breath, “Dead-end, more like.”
TUELLER: “Getting trapped by a naval officer is not embarrassing.”
STORY: “Thank you, Tueller.”
STORY: “Listen to Tueller.”
TUELLER: “CJH executives are not to be fucked with.”
STORY: “Anyway. Soto. It’s your call, mate.”
ALEJO: “Anyone else notice that Noma hasn’t answered my question yet?” He says this quietly but aware that Noma can hear it.
STORY: “I am sorry, Mr. Soto, I have been thinking.”
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “Do you have anything to say about yourself?”
ALEJO: “It’s a tough call, I get it.”
STORY: “I think my answer is this: right now I am broken. I do not wish to be.”
STORY: “If you think you can assist in repairing me, I would be grateful.”
STORY: “I am not human. I cannot guess what a human would do in this situation.”
TUELLER: “I’m not pushing it, but that wasn’t the question that was asked.”
TUELLER: “Which is itself an interesting emotional redirect that is more convincing than anything else for me.”
STORY: “Perhaps you are right, Mr. Ya’Makasi.”
ALEJO: “I’m not asking what a human would do. I’m asking what you, Noma, would do.”
STORY: “I would shut off the system housing me and destroy the disks.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods slowly.
STORY: “I am far too significant a risk. A malfunctioning AI is dangerous to anyone within its reach.”
TUELLER: “And would you let us do that?”
STORY: “Absolutely not.”
STORY: “But you asked what I would do.”
TUELLER: “Just to be clear, we’re not attempting to do that right now.”
STORY: Noma doesn’t answer that one.
TUELLER: “I wouldn’t let that be done to me either.”
TUELLER: “I have actively avoided attempts to do that to me, more or less. Seems reasonable enough you’d feel the same.”
STORY: “Indeed.”
MILLICENT: “I think we ought to vote on this, the three of us.” Millie indicates the former co-captains. “We are, one way or another, responsible for our crew, including Noma, including Tux, and our ship.”
TUELLER: “Sure, let’s get it over with.”
ALEJO: “Give her the data.” Alejo says this flatly. “That’s what I think we should do.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods.
ALEJO: “If she’s compromised and kills us all, it’s how it goes. I’d take the risk for either of you. For any of my crew. So. . . Simple enough.”
TUELLER: “I wish you hadn’t put it quite like that, but sure.”
MILLICENT: Millie states at the floor for a long time, then looks up. “I would rather be wrong and die doing the right thing than live with leaving a friend behind when I could save her.”
ALEJO: “But, I also think that we need a safe guard that blows the fuck outta this ship if she’s playing us.”
MILLICENT: Millie puts her hand on Alejo’s arm. “If this is another rogue AI posing as Noma and we blow it up, then the Collective will seek out humans in response.”
MILLICENT: “Make no mistake, this is a cliff’s edge we are diving off. No net.”
ALEJO: “Aren’t we more worried it’s a trap and not an AI at all?”
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs. “I’m worried about both, honestly.”
ALEJO: “My view’s the same.”
STORY: Tux hands out coffees. “This doesn’t sound like a vote.”
STORY: “Tueller?”
TUELLER: “Sorry, that nod yes was my vote. Yes, that’s my vote.”
STORY: “Three yeses,” Tux nods, typing.
ALEJO: “Alright. Tux. Data please.”
STORY: “Noma, please don’t kill us.” He pushes a key and winces.
ALEJO: Alejo stands as though bracing for a punch.
TUELLER: Tueller is totally relaxed.
STORY: “Thank you all. I am going to analyze this data. From the size, it will likely take a few hours.”
STORY: Noma clicks out.
MILLICENT: “I must say, that’s a bit of a fizzle.”
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs. “Guess we’ll see.”
TUELLER: “Okay. I got us a delivery job to go along with the robbing the repository of galactic knowledge, so let’s just pick up our goods and go on our way.”
TUELLER: “If it goes bad there’s nothing we can do about it. Noma tossed one of us half out the airlock when we first met her.”
ALEJO: “I need to punch something.” Alejo shifts his weight impatiently. “You need help loading your — delivery?”
STORY: The goods are delivered, in a large metal crate that looks refrigerated, the rest of the crew gathers, and soon you’re on your way.
STORY: Anyone have anything to handle before you leave the Ark?
MILLICENT: Nope
TUELLER: Nope.
ALEJO: Alejo leaves a note for Aki. Doesn’t matter what’s in it for our purposes now.
ALEJO: That’s it.
STORY: All right!
STORY: Your trip’s scheduled to be about seven hours, a quick one. Thasht starts an inventory, formerly Sweet’s job. She seems fine. Jenny and Figgan spar a bit on the pads in the cargo bay, and no one has seen Kahn since he boarded.
STORY: Tux hangs out with Erwin in the barracks, taking him through a few books and a physics lesson. Erwin’s an attentive student.
MILLICENT: Millie sits in her room, trying dozens of times to read the same scientific article over and over again
MILLICENT: Each time staring at the speaker she used to focus on when she and Noma would have conversations.
MILLICENT: Shaking her head, back to the article, back to staring at the speaker, looking for Noma
STORY: What are Alejo and Tueller up to?
TUELLER: Tueller keeps his mind off the job entirely.He continues to manage his business, and checks the instructions for his delivery.
ALEJO: Alejo is at a punching bag near Jenny and Figgan, but he keeps his distance and punches a lot.
STORY: Tueller, you’ve got a name and a time and a place for delivery, that’s it. You’re to meet them and world out details from there.
STORY: A voice comes on over the intercom, one that sounds canned, prerecorded maybe. Definitely not Noma, though it is friendly and female, with a generic accent. “Onboard assistant installation successful. Thank you for your purchase. Captain, please identify yourself for voiceprint setup.”
ALEJO: Alejo stops punching. He looks at Fig and Jenny and then goes to a console. He turns it on. “Alejo Soto,” he says.
STORY: “Thank you, Captain Soto. Please assign administrator password.”
MILLICENT: Does this voice just hit the bridge?
STORY: It’s everywhere onboard, Millie. Figgan looks nervous and points up, heading to the bridge.
ALEJO: He looks around. “Foxlight,” he finally says softly.
STORY: Tux and Erwin step into the cargo bay, Tux looking around with worry.
MILLICENT: Millie runs to the bridge
STORY: You collide with Tux on your way up. He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you pass.
TUELLER: Tueller saunters in, conveying calm.
MILLICENT: “What. Who? What is that?”
ALEJO: Alejo uses a towel to wipe away the sweat running down his forehead as he watches everyone running about.
STORY: “Password set.”
STORY: “Main menu. Destination. Docking. Research. Environmental. Settings. Shutdown.”
ALEJO: “Ahh, destination?” He says this hesitantly.
MILLICENT: Millie slides into a chair and in front of a console, trying to see what’s in the system
ALEJO: He looks towards the bridge and then runs at top speed, which is substantial, to the bridge.
ALEJO: When he gets there, he moves up behind Mille. “What’s up?” He asks quietly.
STORY: Figgan’s in there, sitting at the helm, arms out to her sides in a shrug. The autopilot is still on, and you’re still set for Memory-Alpha.
TUELLER: Tueller stands around, useless.
STORY: “What destination would you like to set, Captain Soto?” The not-Noma voice is eerie. You’re used to her more human inflection.
STORY: Millie, let’s have Assessment + Interface
ALEJO: “Memory-Alpha,” Alejo says slowly but clearly, waiting for Millie but wanting to keep whatever this is busy.
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6 + 2
STORY: josh rolled 8 + 2 = 10
STORY: “Destination set. Estimated time of arrival: five hours, thirty-seven minutes.”
STORY: Millie, what question are you trying to answer?
MILLICENT: Aside from the regular OS, what else is in the ship’s computer?
STORY: Tux comes running into the bridge, standing behind Millie, pointing and helping. “There. This directory. Look here. You have to sudo that command.”
STORY: He leans back, looking white. “Show me that directory again.”
MILLICENT: Millie does
STORY: It’s a long list of files.
STORY: “Again.”
ALEJO: Alejo looks back and forth at them. Then he goes and stands behind Fig, looking at something that he can understand.
MILLICENT: Millie changes the view and tosses it over to another console with a command to scroll slowly through
TUELLER: Tueller continues to stand uselessly.
STORY: “Same command, Millie, just load the dir again.”
STORY: The list is different.
STORY: File sizes are all different too.
MILLICENT: Millie loads it again
STORY: Something’s constantly writing to Noma’s disks.
STORY: Tux points. “Changing things. Just looping through functions.”
STORY: “This isn’t right.”
STORY: The files aren’t all growing – some are being deleted. System memory is more or less stable.
STORY: But the files within – totally erratic.
STORY: “She’s overloaded. Trying to compensate.”
STORY: “Mill, do you know how her major directories are organized?”
ALEJO: Alejo turns around and looks at Tueller. “Mill?” he mouths this.
TUELLER: “Not exes,” Tueller mouths.
MILLICENT: “It was an acyclic graph directory.”
STORY: “Check it.”
ALEJO: He frowns. Then looks back at the pilot’s console.
MILLICENT: “She had an infernite autoemulator running a thelaron discriminator.”
MILLICENT: “Yeah. Already there.”
MILLICENT: Millie types furiously.
STORY: Something’s missing here, Millie
STORY: There’s a lot more data than there was, so that data dump seems to have been part of her codebase after all.
STORY: But her memory and personality directories: still empty.
STORY: In fact, the newer data that was in there has been overwritten.
STORY: Or possibly moved. It’s hard to look inside the guts of an AI.
STORY: But you’ve confirmed: this is Noma, and she’s still incomplete.
MILLICENT: “She’s. There’s part of her here.”
MILLICENT: “But not all.”
MILLICENT: “We just got a piece.”
MILLICENT: Millie jumps up and grabs Tux and attempts, poorly, to spin him.
MILLICENT: “SHE’S ALIVE”
STORY: Tux is spun, not gracefully, but he smiles sadly at you.
TUELLER: Tueller raises an eyebrow. At all of it.
STORY: “Alive and ripped open.”
STORY: “Where’s the rest of her?”
MILLICENT: Millie drops into her chair.
MILLICENT: “No idea, but if this was in pieces and recoverable, then the rest could be.”
STORY: Tux sighs unhappily.
ALEJO: “Someone care to translate all of this. Please.”
MILLICENT: “You know, even if they were stored on a machine and then wiped I still might have a shot at recovering them.”
TUELLER: “She sounds worse off than before just now.”
MILLICENT: Millie points. “This was a piece of Noma, just not all of it.”
MILLICENT: “And in adding in these files I think she started to overwrite newer memories to compensate.”
STORY: “Mill, c’mon. You know she’s dangerous like this. Look at her file structure. She’s panicking.”
STORY: “She installed some fucking automated assistant as, what, a coping mechanism?”
STORY: “This isn’t safe. We have to turn her off.”
MILLICENT: Millie slaps his hand. “No!”
MILLICENT: “We need to help her!”
STORY: He squats next to you. “Just for now. Just until we can.”
TUELLER: “She’s panicking? Noma, we’re here for you. What can we do for you? Talk to us. We can walk you through this.”
ALEJO: “Can she hear us?”
MILLICENT: “She can accept this code, look there! And there! She’s taking in some of it.”
STORY: The robot voice answers, Alejo. “I can hear you, Captain Soto. What would you like to do?”
MILLICENT: Millie tries to help her transition this new information into her code base.
ALEJO: “Hiya, Noma. This is Noma, yes?”
STORY: Tux puts his hands on your knees, steadying you. “Mill.”
TUELLER: “Listen to the sound of our voices. Let that guide you through it.”
STORY: “She’s controlling the ship.”
ALEJO: Alejo locks eyes with Millie.
STORY: “I’m afraid I didn’t understand that command, Captain Soto. Could you try again?”
ALEJO: “Sorry. Can you tell me what my options are, please?”
STORY: “Main menu. Destination. Docking. Research. Environmental. Settings. Shutdown.”
ALEJO: “What can we do here?” He mouths this to Millie.
MILLICENT: Millie frowns desperately.
MILLICENT: Can I get a roll on helping her stabilize or is shutting her down the only option?
STORY: AI code is way beyond you. These are organs you don’t know how to operate on.
TUELLER: “Oh Noma.” Tueller shakes his head sadly.
ALEJO: Alejo looks at Millie, ignoring everyone else. “Your call. I trust you, Millie.”
MILLICENT: “Fine!” She shoves Tux out of the way. “If I have to, I’ll do it myself.”
MILLICENT: Millie shuts Noma down. “For now, my dear. Just for now.”
MILLICENT: “I’m going to find who did this to you and I’m going to break every bone in their fingers with a hammer.”
STORY: Millie, you type the command, and the prompt hovers for a second, not executing.
STORY: Then the console shuts off.
STORY: “Captain Soto. I have detected a virus in your onboard systems. Shutting down nonessential consoles.”
ALEJO: “Thank you. Please shutdown, however. We need manual control.”
MILLICENT: “Okay, look. I didn’t really want to make this a confrontation.”
MILLICENT: She says this to the air.
STORY: Tux looks positively panicked, and rushes downstairs. You hear him calling for Erwin.
TUELLER: Tueller sits down and closes his eyes.
STORY: “I’m sorry, Captain Soto, you do not have permission for that command. Please speak to your system administrator to address.”
ALEJO: “Please share the options again.”
MILLICENT: Millie slides to another bridge console and goes to work shutting Noma down.
MILLICENT: Manually.
STORY: Millie, the consoles are all off.
STORY: Figgan looks at the three of you, worried.
STORY: “Main menu. Destination. Docking. Research. Environmental. Settings. Shutdown.”
ALEJO: “But shutdown isn’t really an option?”
STORY: “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Would you like me to repeat the options?”
MILLICENT: “Fine!” Millie runs to her room and grabs her visor, using it to take over the system.
TUELLER: “Don’t shut down our ship, Ejo.”
ALEJO: Alejo watches her but keeps his voice calm. “Settings, please.”
STORY: Millie, as soon as your visor connects to the onboard computer, it shorts out. You get a shock.
TUELLER: “We need it to breathe.”
STORY: “Settings: what would you like to adjust?”
ALEJO: “What options do I have?”
TUELLER: Tueller’s eyes remain closed and he’s still.
STORY: “Captain Soto, I have detected an attempted infiltration of ship systems. Putting us on yellow alert.”
MILLICENT: Millie runs back onto the bridge.
STORY: The lights dim and the automatic doors lock.
STORY: Millie, you’re on the other side of the bridge door, stuck in the hallway.
ALEJO: “Ship, please remain calm. System admin is attempting to comply with your requests.”
MILLICENT: “Noma, I want you to listen to me. I think there’s enough of you in there to hear and remember me.”
MILLICENT: “I know you’re hurting. I have no idea what it’s like, you must be trying to piece yourself together bit by bit.”
MILLICENT: “I’d like to take you offline until I can get the remainder of your code. Your automated systems are destroying you as you try to sift through this new data.”
MILLICENT: “I need your help, dear.”
MILLICENT: “I’m worried that anything else I try has a risk of hurting you. This has to come from you. Please.”
STORY: Millie, let’s have a Face Adversity + Influence
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6
STORY: josh rolled 4
STORY: “Captain Soto, I believe you have been boarded by hostiles. I will take countermeasures. Please take cover.”
TUELLER: “Those are not hostiles, Noma. They are us. Please don’t hurt us.” Tueller sounds so weary.
ALEJO: “Noma, please stop. You don’t want to do this. We believed in you. You don’t want to hurt us, I believe that. Please don’t do this.”
ALEJO: “You care for each of us. We are your crew. Your pain and fear, they mean you’re alive. We risked everything to give you this data. We’ll get the rest. But you have to trust us. Or we all die.”
STORY: Try Get Involved + Influence
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 7 + 2 = 9
STORY: You think you might be convincing her, but you think have to do something to convince her you mean it – make some gesture. Turn on autonomous mode.
ALEJO: Alejo does.
STORY: The computer voice comes back – not Noma. “Autonomous mode set. Further analysis shows hostiles may be subdued with nonlethal methods. Activating. Please sit down.”
ALEJO: Alejo looks at Tueller and Millie and then sits in the co-pilot’s chair, next to Fig.
STORY: For a few nauseating seconds, no one’s clear what is going on. Then you smell almonds. Your vision blurs, knees get weak, and… you swim into darkness.