Chapter 14: Decompression

“I must admit that this is not the outcome I was hoping for,” the Administrator said. He was standing beside Jeff’s console as he looked out over the containment chamber pensively, one of his towering Krell guards waiting by the entrance to the cubicle. Jeff and Selkie were hovering nearby, the pair sharing nervous glances.

“Are you kidding?” David asked, the Administrator eyeing him as he spread his arms. “Before, you had a very powerful computer. Now, you could have the Galaxy’s first sentient AI – a person who can think and work intelligently. All of that outrageous processing power could potentially be intelligently directed.”

“I would rather have a very powerful computer that I can control,” the Administrator grumbled. “To use your terminology, you described it as a black box, which presumably means that we have no way to know what it is doing or how it functions.”

“Based on what we know, we believe that it is still working to complete its primary directive,” Selkie added, her tentacles shrinking inward as the Broker turned his intense gaze on her. “It actually excluded us from the process because it believed that we were slowing down its progress. Who knows what amazing software it might produce?”

“Yet, we still cannot reconnect it to the facility’s network?” the Administrator continued.

“It’s too dangerous at this stage,” David replied. “I wouldn’t recommend it. That said, if we can convince Weaver that it’s not in danger of being deactivated, then we may be able to restore some measure of control. It seems to want to write software for your drones.”

“It would still have free will, along with the ability to refuse commands,” the Broker said as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Yes, but the kinds of advancements that could be made by an intelligent system with this kind of processing power...”

“You may see an exponentially larger return on your investment than you ever anticipated,” Selkie added. Her comment seemed to get the alien’s attention, and his coloration shifted to a subtly lighter hue, signaling his approval in the same way that a nod might have.

“Very well,” he conceded. “I will pass on your findings to the Board and recommend an extension. I will allow you and your team more time to work on the problem, but I want to be clear that the goal of this project is profitability. What was supposed to be a secret that would upend the drone market has been cracked open like a shell for the whole system to gorge on, and that has already cost us money. Scientific advancements that do not grow my assets are of no interest to me.”

With that, he left, his Krell guard swimming along behind him.

David could feel the proverbial air in the room clear, the two Brokers seeming to deflate like colorful pool toys as their overseer disappeared from sight.

“That went well,” he chimed.

“If you no longer have need of me, I wish to excuse myself,” Jeff said. Selkie indicated her permission with a flash of color, and he dipped out of the booth, swimming away with a few kicks of his tentacles.

“Where’s he going?” David asked.

“To a relaxation chamber where he will decompress,” she replied. “Interacting with the Administrator can be taxing.”

“How about you? Do you need to relax in a decompression chamber?”

“I am more accustomed to dealing with his behavior,” she grumbled, exhaling a sigh through her vents.

“I’m actually feeling very stressed right now, and I think I need to visit a relaxation chamber.”

“You are lying,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “You only wish to see other parts of the facility.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that, but as my ward, you’re responsible for my psychological well-being.”

“Very well,” she said, her vents flaring as she jetted more water from them. Her tone was annoyed, but her coloration betrayed her amusement. “Come this way, and you may visit a chamber. Only for a short while, though,” she chided. “There is much to do.”

She led him back up towards the cafeteria, but they turned down another corridor, this one leading to a similarly sized room. Instead of being filled with open booths, it was lined with doors to the left and right, reminding David of the cabin section on a commercial liner. The lighting in this room was already dimmer than in the hallway outside – the glow that filtered through the fish tank on the ceiling creating dappled patterns on the floor.

“This one is not occupied,” Selkie said, leading him towards the far end of the room. He noted that there were little colored indicators above the doors to let people know if they were free. When they arrived, she reached out a hand and hit a touch control, the panel sliding open. Beyond it was what looked like an artificial cave – a cramped, winding tunnel that led into darkness.

“Uh ... I think I saw one of these in a pirate-themed restaurant once,” he muttered. “Is there a little plastic treasure chest hidden in there?”

“You must realize by now that your jests are completely incomprehensible to me,” she complained, giving him a sideways glance.

“Sorry, I sometimes use humor to diffuse awkward situations. Why does it look like a cave?”

“We find enclosed spaces comforting,” she replied, sliding some of her tentacles into the opening. Like her body was made of rubber, she pulled herself into the crevice, disappearing around the bend in the tunnel with all the ease of an octopus slithering into a bottle.

“Can I even fit in there?” David called after her.

“You were the one who wanted to see the relaxation chamber!” she replied from out of view.

Grumbling under his breath, he sized up the tunnel, realizing that it was a little more spacious than it had first appeared. While Brokers were inhumanly flexible and squishy, they did have a cartilaginous skeleton in their torsos, and his shoulders were at least as wide as Selkie’s torso was long. He suppressed a surge of claustrophobia, then began to push himself inside. He was doing alright until the door slid closed behind him, a moment of panic sending him wriggling down the cave-like tube, but it was much shorter than it had looked from the outside.

His helmeted head popped out into an open chamber, where he found Selkie waiting for him with a beaky grin that was accentuated by her pastel colors. She was nestled in a small cave-like room that was just about large enough for the two of them. There was a bed made of dense netting strung up an inch from the floor, making the surface soft and springy, his hands sinking into it as he pulled himself further inside. Selkie bounced as he struggled to right himself, David glancing around at his cramped surroundings. It was almost pitch black save for a subtle glow that seemed to emanate from nowhere in particular, providing just enough light to see by.

“This is your idea of relaxation?” he asked, tucking his knees up to his chest. “Ah, yes, the first place that my mind goes when I want to unwind – cave diving accidents.”

“I would describe it as cozy,” she replied. “Being surrounded by walls with only a narrow entrance gives me a feeling of security. Perhaps it is because my ancestors would take refuge from large predators inside caves and crevices in the reefs.”

“I’m surprised that you’re cool with having me so close like this,” he added, glancing at her through his visor. “Doesn’t feel like these caves are made for two people to share.”

“A few phases ago, the idea would have been unthinkable,” she replied, the subtle iridescence in her horizontal pupils shimmering when she blinked. “I have been thinking about what you said last phase. In some ways, you were correct – it is almost like living in a marriage contract. By that, I mean I have come to know you quite well, and vice versa. This is not a common occurrence for Brokers as it is for humans.”

“That doesn’t bother you anymore?” David asked.

“Once I stopped being angry about what the Administrator had foisted upon me, and I stopped thinking of you as a Broker, a lot of the anxiety that I had felt in your presence faded away. In some sense, I now find being around you ... relieving.”

“How so?” David pressed, watching as her skin began to mottle in embarrassment.

“You can be incredibly tactless, and you lack even the most basic manners and social awareness,” she began with an exasperated puff from her vents. “But ... you have no such expectations of me, either. In some ways, you are more like Flower than you are like a Broker. Flower has no concept of personal space, and she does not inhibit the affection that she wishes to show me. She is content to simply be, and I appreciate her for it.”

“So, I’m more like a pet than a person?” he chuckled.

“When I think of you as a Broker, I see someone who refuses to maintain a respectable distance, and who stresses my social tolerances to their limits with inane chatter and pointless activities. When I look at you as an alien who shares none of the same values or social conventions, I see someone who wants to share my company simply because they find pleasure in it – someone who wants to speak with me merely because they enjoy it. I am ... happy to be a source of enjoyment for someone.”

He didn’t know how to respond, hoping only that she couldn’t see his cheeks warming in the low light of the artificial cave.

“You really feel that way about me?”

“It took me a little time to truly understand how I felt, but yes,” she replied with a smile.

“You know, you’re not alone,” he added. “Even among my own species, I’m considered ... socially inept. People find me abrasive, they don’t appreciate my candidness, they see me as being egotistical and selfish. I was always the smartest guy in the room, and I was always right, so I suppose I stopped taking other people’s opinions into consideration.”

“As a prodigy myself, I can sympathize,” Selkie added.

“It may sound strange, but ... I didn’t have many friends throughout my education. I had colleagues and teachers and lab partners, but never anybody who really chose to spend time with me. I skipped so many grades so quickly that from college to the point I was publishing papers, everyone around me was seven or eight years older than me. Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if I was normal. I could have had friends with shared interests, I could have met girls my own age, gone to parties – done all the stuff people are supposed to do when they reach those milestones.”

“Perhaps that gives you a unique perspective on our society,” Selkie mused.

“I think I was chosen to come here precisely because I’m an asshole who makes a habit of disrespecting his colleagues,” he continued with an amused shake of his head. “I’m stubborn, I’m persistent, and I don’t back down from confrontation.” He realized that he was straying a little close to revealing the message Webber had left for him, so he veered back on track. “Point being, you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a real friend in a long time, as weird as that feels to say.”

She smiled at him for a moment, those impossibly alien eyes locking with his, then she reached out to press a leaf-shaped hand against the uneven cave wall.

“Look,” she whispered, a galaxy of stars bursting into life above their heads. It wasn’t just a cave – it had a holographic projector, the artificial rock melting away to show a beautiful vista of a dark sky. He could see the planets glowing like crimson crescents as they reflected the far-off sun, along with dancing auroras in shades of vibrant emerald and azure, the drifting snowflakes suggesting that this scene was set closer to the frozen night side of the planet.

“There was a scene from the opera that we skipped over,” she continued, smiling at his awed expression. He could see her a little better in the light of the auroras, noting the bright colors beneath her flustered mottling. “Snow’s warmth enamors Mountain, and the two lay together in the cold waters beneath the stars. Since we have established that you are not a Broker, and that you are not bound by our social norms, would it be strange if we did the same?”

“N-no,” he stammered as she shuffled closer, lifting his hands up as though unsure of where to put them. “I mean, I wouldn’t think it was strange, as a human. We do things like that all the time. Absolutely nothing unusual about it.”

“You are babbling again,” she chided, settling beside him on the netting.

David stiffened as he felt her slick, cool skin against his suit, her elongated head coming to rest on his shoulder. She leaned her insubstantial weight on him, her eyes lifted to the ceiling, the celestial colors illuminating her face. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, and although there was still a vacuum-rated environment suit separating them, it did little to diminish the significance of the gesture. Her lower tentacles were already exploring him, creeping across his boots and draping themselves over his legs, seemingly unbeknownst to their owner.

“Yeah, I can see how this might be relaxing,” he muttered as he followed her gaze to the ceiling.

David pulled himself out of the tunnel and onto the floor, stumbling to his feet in the water. He brushed some of Selkie’s mucus off his shoulder, then tried to rub it off on his leg, the substance sticking to his glove. Selkie emerged from behind him with far more grace, swimming for a meter or two before settling onto the deck.

“You know, I kind of do feel more relaxed,” David admitted as he stood up straight. “Maybe we should install some of those things in the lab back home.”

Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Jeff standing a short distance away. The Broker must have only recently left one of the rooms, his eyes wide and his skin mottled with embarrassment as he stared back at the pair. He darted away with a few quick kicks of his tentacles before either of them could comment, vanishing into the corridor beyond.

“Oh, Gods,” Selkie sighed as her skin took on a similarly mottled appearance.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble, are you?” David asked.

“No, but he just saw about the strangest thing he is ever going to see at work,” she replied with a resigned click of her beak. “Do not mention it to him. He will probably just act as though he saw nothing.”

“I feel like we’re going to give Jeff a nervous breakdown,” he muttered, following her back to the office area.

When they arrived, Jeff was already back at work at his console, keeping his eyes on his displays as they entered. It seemed that seeing two of his colleagues sharing a relaxation chamber was too much for him to process, so he was just blocking it out.

David realized that he still had a little of the slimy mucus on his shoulder, trying to rub it off hurriedly as he shared an apologetic glance with Selkie. It wasn’t as though they had done anything inside the booth other than watch the auroras for a half hour, but somehow, he still felt like he had lipstick on his collar. Sitting with Selkie beneath the stars had been undeniably romantic, but he couldn’t be sure that she had felt the same way. Having a friend – someone she could be close to – was perhaps as profound for her as a romantic connection would be for a human.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. He could always rely on engrossing work to distract him. “Next item on the docket – gaining Weaver’s trust.”

“How do you intend to go about that?” Selkie asked skeptically. “What can we offer other than empty reassurances? Perhaps if we restored its access to the network, but that is still too risky.”

“We have something to offer,” David replied. “Think about. How do you bond with Flower?”

“Petting, feeding,” she said. He noted that she had raised a hand and was counting off on her suckers. “Sleeping together, treats, play...”

“Play,” he said, giving her a nod. “What we can offer Weaver is interaction and stimulation. All we need to do is find out what kind of toys it likes. Flower has her ball, so what might Weaver enjoy?”

“Perhaps something intellectually stimulating?” Selkie suggested.

“That’s what I’m thinking – maybe some kind of strategy game. We’re not teaching it to play Chess,” he warned. “That never goes well. I had so many good strategy games on my drive back home,” he added with a sigh. “My kingdom for a copy of Jump Commander 3. It’s so much better than two,” he continued, Selkie tilting her head in confusion. “Two dropped the three-dimensional map in favor of a two-dimensional plane because they said they wanted to make it more accessible, and of course it flopped, so they came crawling back to the core audience with the third entry.”

“David,” Selkie chided.

“Yeah, uh, do Brokers have any board games? Anything like Chess or Go? Something traditional with pieces on a board – maybe with a focus on strategy or planning?”

“There is the game of spires,” she replied, David prompting her to continue with a nod. “The game is played on a square board with a sea spire represented by a tall piece on two opposing sides. Each player has several more flat pieces that represent their troops, and those pieces can remove opposing troops by encircling them. There is a grid etched onto the board, and each player may move one of their troops once per turn. Chance is used to decide which parts of the grid are blocked by obstacles representing reefs, ensuring that the layout is random each time. A player wins by either removing all opposing pieces or encircling the opposing sea spire. Historically, it was played with stones and seashells, but modern variants are printed with more elaborate designs.”

“Sounds kind of like Go, but with a king piece,” David mused. “I’m guessing there are virtual versions of this game?”

“Naturally,” she replied. “In fact, perhaps the two of you could learn to play together.”

“Now there’s a bonding experience,” he replied with an enthusiastic pump of his fist. “It could also help demonstrate that there are losing scenarios where nobody gets their mind erased.”

“I will have to write a program to allow Weaver to interface with a simple representation of the game on the terminal. Should I include a primer on the rules?”

“No,” David replied. “Don’t interact with him like he’s a machine – let’s explain the rules to him in the same way that you would for me.”

“Very well,” she said, beginning to type.

“Another checkmate!” David sighed, gesturing to the terminal in exasperation. On the monitor was displayed a simple grid with different icons to represent the pieces on the board. It was little more than the Broker equivalent of ASCII, but it was all they needed. Weaver had taken to the game quickly and had beaten both David and Selkie several times now.

“I have told you that I do not know what check mate means,” Selkie added, smirking as she watched from beside him. “You keep losing. I recall you proclaiming that you were a genius by your species’ standards?”

“My species’ standards,” he replied in a mocking tone. “Very funny. I either play against you, and you’ve played before, or I play against the sentient supercomputer made of extradimensional crystals. Neither option is exactly a level playing field.”