The Cyber Chronicles VIII - Scorpion Lord (16 page)

"You could
take away all his emotions under hypnosis."

Martis nodded.
"But I won't. There's no point in us helping him to get free if I
turn him into a zombie. He has a right to his feelings, and I find
him fascinating. He's taken a huge leap of faith by letting me
hypnotise him, and I won't betray him. He knows he's going off the
deep end and he wants help."

"I want you to
help him."

Martis led the
way back into the lounge, where he settled in front of the cyber
again. "Sabre. You are a human being, flesh and blood. You have
feelings, and these are good, but you must control them. All are
acceptable, but not all should be acted on. Sometimes you have to
suppress feelings like anger and the urge to take vengeance on
those who hurt you. Your mind is powerful and your destiny is your
own, be proud of what you are. There is no shame in your past; no
reason to hate yourself. Your life is your own, to do with as you
please. Your body has instincts; let them guide you. There's
nothing wrong with your urges and feelings; let them guide you.
Your flesh is you, your blood is you. Your heart is your guide,
too."

Martis sat
back, glancing at Estrelle. "Open active response file: X487...
Erase."

Sabre tensed
and frowned, gripping the arms of the chair. A wave of red lights
swept across the brow band as it rebooted, then some turned green,
others flashed.

"Erasure...
forbidden."

"Override
code, Myon Two, RDZ487. Erase, erase, erase."

Sabre relaxed.
"File erased."

"Open active
response file: P937... Erase."

The cyber
tensed again. "Erasure... forbidden."

"Override
code, Myon Two, RDZ937. Erase, erase, erase."

Sabre slumped.
"File erased."

"Open active
response file: Z250... Erase. Override code, Myon Two, RDZ250.
Erase, erase, erase."

Sabre
grimaced. "File erased."

"Open host
definition file... J14. Append."

"Code."

"Myon Two:
SFT14-89. Append."

"Awaiting
input."

Martis leant
forward. "Input: definition of host. Autonomous sentient being.
Sensations experienced by host, acceptable. Host impulses:
acceptable. Host emotions: acceptable. End input."

"File
appended."

"Close host
definition file J14."

"File
closed."

Martis
steepled his hands and licked his lips. "Open host response file,
code: active alpha priority one."

"Password."

"Myon Two,
AP..." Martis closed his eyes, concentrating. "Y, 77... 4."

"File
opened."

"Edit; line
1247. Delete last three words. Input: host brain choice."

"Line
edited."

"Save all
files. Close all files."

"Files
closed."

Martis leant
back. "Sabre, you're a living creature, made of flesh and blood.
You're not defined; you're not bound by the rules of a machine. You
are a man. When I count to three, you will wake up, refreshed and
relaxed. One, two, three."

Sabre opened
his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Estrelle held her breath. The
cyber's eyes drifted down and came to rest on Martis. "You changed
something."

The young tech
nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Confused. You
deleted... three files. And appended one... And something
else."

"That one
you'll never be able to see. It's core programming."

"What did you
do?"

Martis clasped
his hands. "The three files I erased were all active response files
dealing with certain human interactions that are forbidden to a
cyber. But that wouldn't have helped you without the core
programming change I made. I also gave you a definition of the
host, which you lacked."

"I know what I
am."

"Yeah, but
cyber programming defined the host as a biological weapon,
forbidden to have impulses or emotions, or to experience pleasant
sensations. The cyber can’t stop you having emotions or impulses,
but you were in conflict with it. I’m not sure what that would feel
like… maybe a presence in your mind, monitoring you? Trying to rub
out your feelings? Like if you were angry, it probably made it
worse by irritating you with its attempts to stop you being angry.
It's not enough, on its own, but when the wall in your mind fails,
you're going to need that subconscious definition."

"I see."

"Do you feel
calmer now, or are you still angry? Do you still hate us?"

The cyber
frowned. "Not really. You're still Myon Two techs, but... I guess
you can't help that."

"What about
this uniform?" Martis gestured to the white uniform he wore, with
its red crest on the shoulder.

"You should
get new clothes; it's bloody ugly."

Martis smiled.
"Good."

"Did you mess
with my mind?"

"Of course I
messed with your mind, but everything I did was for your
benefit."

Sabre studied
at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay then. I still have to find
a Net booth and contact Fairen."

"My clothes
are still damp," Estrelle said.

"I'll get you
some new ones." Sabre rose and donned his clothes, including the
harness, then pulled the worker's uniform on over it. "You two stay
here. I'll be back soon."

"You don't
have any money," Martis said.

"I don't need
it." Sabre headed for the door.

After he left,
Estrelle turned to Martis with raised brows. "He seems
happier."

"He'll feel
happier for a while, but it's not going to be plain sailing. I
meant what I said; don't bloody touch him."

"You're just
jealous."

"Nope, that's
not it. Two of the active response files I erased dealt with
contact, but there's one I can't erase, because that would be very
dangerous."

Estrelle eyed
him. "What does it do?"

"It defines
his response to a person he deems to be a possible or potential
threat. Right now, his response is hostile, as you noticed, though
not aggressive if no harm is done. It's designed to allow a cyber
to penetrate a hostile area, like if one was used as an assassin,
which they often are. They make excellent assassins. On their way
to their target, they may well come into contact with enemy
soldiers or cybers, some of whom might touch them, brush against
them, put a hand on them to detain them at a checkpoint, that sort
of thing.

"In order to
prevent a cyber in that situation from automatically killing every
enemy who came into contact with him, or at least, trying to, this
active response file allows harmless contact without a lethal
response. If I erased it, and you stroked his cheek like you did
earlier, you'd probably have a broken neck now, but at the same
time it tells him that, when surrounded by enemies, the response to
any pain or action deemed hostile is lethal. In his mind, we're the
enemy, but he tolerates us, even helps us, which is why he's so
confused about it.

"His human
brain is now at odds with his programming, because he's defining
his enemies based on his experience, but his programming still
dictates his response. It's complicated, and it's going to get
worse. These uniforms don't help. He associates them with his
enemies, who are Myon Two personnel, while his programming defines
Myon Two personnel as non-targets. He's in conflict. If he was a
simple programme, he'd be trapped in a forever loop, with no
escape. You're an enemy, but he can't attack you, but you're an
enemy, but he can't attack you... You see?"

She frowned.
"Poor guy. What would happen if you erased all his
programming?"

"He wouldn't
know what to do. Literally. He'd become passive, and probably learn
a few responses, but he's not a child anymore, his mind is fully
formed. If I erased his programming, it would be like you losing
all your memories. If I then asked you for a cup of tea, you
wouldn't know what I was talking about. I'd have to explain what
tea is, and how to make it, and that's assuming you still knew how
to understand speech and speak, which I don't know if he would,
because some of it's learnt and some is programmed."

"But on the
ship, he invited me to touch him, so he could keep me warm."

"Yeah, the
important difference being that he invited you. If he asks you to
touch him, fine, go for it, but don't do it without his invitation
or permission."

Estrelle sank
down in the chair Sabre had vacated. "And all that stuff you told
him about flesh and instincts and urges?"

"That was for
his subconscious mind, which has never learnt about his body and
some of its natural functions, because it was cut off from it. His
programming defined it as a tool, and that's how he still thinks of
it, to a certain extent. Sure, he's aware that there's probably
more to it, but he can't really allow himself to experience things
his programming forbids him to do.

"What I did
was give him permission to explore the new sensations he's been
experiencing, so there's no conflict with his programming that
would cause him to over stress. At least, I hope it will work, but,
like I said, I don't really know if it will, but it should
help."

"It was
amazing. He seemed completely human until you started reprogramming
him, then he became a machine."

"That was the
control unit. He’s an odd mixture. He has a human side, a machine
side, and middle ground, which is where the cyber’s reference data
guides him. When his brain-block fails, he’s going to have to learn
to be almost completely human, or he’ll go nuts."

“
I hope it works,” she said.

“
Yeah, me too.”

Estrelle went
back into the bathroom to dry her hair while Martis watched an
entertainment show on the vidscreen. By the time the door opened an
hour later, she was sitting with Martis in the lounge, nibbling
snacks he had ordered from room service and watching a rather
raunchy funvid. Sabre entered, looking a bit plump. He opened his
overalls and pulled out two pairs of trousers and two shirts, then
some undergarments, dropping them on a chair. Estrelle went over
and picked up a pair of trousers, inspecting them.

"These are
men's trousers."

Sabre
shrugged. "What's the difference?"

"I'm a
woman?"

"You have two
legs, same as a man."

She sighed.
"Never mind."

Martis
chuckled when she vanished into the bathroom with the new clothes,
holding up the pair of undershorts from his pile. "You got her a
pair of these?"

"They all came
from the same shelf."

Martis
chuckled again, then stripped off his uniform and pulled on the
brown trousers. Sabre frowned at the tattoo on the tech's shoulder
as Martis turned to face him. He covered the tattoo with his hand,
and Sabre's eyes flicked up to his face.

"It's okay to
hate the emblem," Martis said, "but you don't have to hate the one
who wears it."

The cyber drew
the knife from his harness and stepped closer. "How about I cut it
off for you?"

Martis
retreated. "I'd rather you didn't. That would hurt."

"Yeah, it
would, huh? Like it hurt when they filleted me so they could
reinforce my bones."

"Probably not
as much."

Sabre snorted
and put away the knife. "Hurry up and get dressed."

Martis pulled
on the buff shirt, which was two sizes too large, and tucked it
into the trousers. "You enjoy intimidating me, don't you?"

"I like that
you're afraid, although it insults me."

"That's a bit
confusing."

"You should be
afraid, given what I am, but the fact that you are means you think
I'm a killer."

"Ah." Martis
shook his head. "I know you're a killer, but I also know you don't
want to kill me."

"Then why are
you scared?"

"Because just
because you don't want to doesn't mean you won't."

"Hmm."

Estrelle
emerged from the bathroom, dowdy in the plain shirt and trousers.
"Are you two having another pissing contest?"

"Just pushing
buttons," Martis said.

"Testing,
testing," Sabre muttered.

"Don't push
the wrong button, Martis," she warned.

"Yeah," Sabre
agreed, "there's one that goes 'boom'."

"Which one is
that?"

"The one
marked 'do not push'."

Martis smiled.
"I guess I haven't found that one yet."

"No, because
if you did, you'd push it, wouldn't you?"

"Probably."

Sabre swung
away and headed for the door. "Let's find a Net booth before the
two of you drive me nuts."

Chapter Nine

Tarl scowled
at the towering metal spire as workmen bolted the last strips into
place high above, his heart heavy. The thing looked like something
out of a bad vintage vidimage, not a high gain antenna. The chances
of it working were slim to none, in his opinion. The same could be
said of the transmitter he had patched together from Sabre's
monitoring equipment. Tassin had hired a number of artisans from
the nearest village to help him, who had some skill with metal
working and carpentry, but, even so, it looked something a child
might have built. It stood in a field not far from the castle,
where he and Tassin could supervise its construction. He looked
around as she came to his side and stared up at the metal
monstrosity.

"This is less
powerful than the bracelet?"

"Much. Size
isn't everything."

"Will it
work?"

"Maybe. Did
you find a new mage?"

She nodded.
"One is arriving in a couple of days, who's reputed to be able to
lift objects with his magic. It will cost a great deal if he
succeeds, and he has to travel from Olgara."

"Four more
days," Tarl muttered. "That poor sod."