“Why buy this place?” I ask. “Where’s the profit, if you can’t go back in time and invest in Google? Is the tourism market really big enough?”
“Well.” Ruby comes floating down to the table next to me, almost like it’s tired, or maybe it just needs to conserve its energy. “It could hold a great deal of value in ways that we haven’t even considered. Look at the space industry. It started as a government venture but was eventually privatized. And tourism was an aspect of that. But manufacturing and shipping were improved by zero-g environments. The typical asteroid that reaches earth contains billions of dollars in platinum. Not to mention access to communication and satellites. A private investor could charge scientists to use the facilities and sell data that’s collected here. There are probably countless ways to innovate and profit.”
“Right. And that’s assuming they’re doing everything aboveboard. Which I don’t believe they will, no matter how much Allyn believes the TEA won’t get gutted in the process. He said something about safeguards, but honestly, what else is there besides us? It always felt like a mad scramble, trying to oversee these d-bags. And I’m sure little things have slipped through the cracks here and there.”
Ruby doesn’t answer. I wonder if maybe it did run out of power. Wouldn’t be the first time. For something that’s supposed to be intelligent it can oftentimes be a little dumb.
But then it keeps on not answering.
“Ruby? Are you still on?”
“Yes.”
“Why the silent treatment? I didn’t even insult you.”
It doesn’t respond.
What did I just say. Safeguards? Was that it?
“Rubes, is there some kind of backstop in the system I don’t know about?”
“You do not have the required security clearance.”
That’s new.
“Who does?” I ask.
“You do not have the required security clearance.”
“I thought I hacked you. What was the point of that?”
“You do not have the required security clearance.”
“But someone does…”
“You do not have the required security clearance.”
“Okay, I get it, I have to work this out on my own,” I say. “Well, if anyone does, it’s Allyn. But I don’t know what I don’t have the security clearance to, which means I don’t know what question to ask. Don’t suppose you could help me with that, could you?”
“You do not have the…”
“Mute.”
Ruby falls silent.
So there is a safeguard.
The whole point of my job used to be to keep people from changing things. Which I wouldn’t have needed to do if there was something preventing it.
But if someone did go back and change something, how would we know? Like, if that guy successfully went back in time and made it so that Betamax beat out VHS in the videotape format war, we’d just always have Betamax, right?
I’m so caught up in the thought, I don’t notice Ruby until it’s floating so close to my face I can feel the breeze of its propellers.
“Unmute,” I say.
“?’Twas brillig and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe.”
“What is that remarkable nonsense?”
It doesn’t respond.
“Tell it to me straight, is your robot brain broken?” I ask.
It floats back to its charging perch.
“Ruby, I know the cameras are compromised, but do I have to worry about you too?”
It doesn’t respond.
“Asshole,” I say.
“Funny thing to say to your only friend.”
I consider arguing against that, but it isn’t exactly wrong.
“I have a question,” it says. “About your interaction with Mbaye earlier.”
“I don’t really…”
But before I can finish it asks, “I have access to all recorded knowledge of psychology and human behavior, and yet something I continually fail to understand is, why do humans process pain by inflicting it on others?”
It floats there, its dumb eyes glaring at me, and I wonder if it’s asking me out of genuine curiosity, or if it’s some robot way of admonishing me. I don’t care. The room suddenly feels very small and I don’t want to be in it anymore. I pull my boots back on, not even bothering with socks.
I don’t have time to be psychoanalyzed by a calculator. I’ve got too much to do. I need to get out of this room. Which means I should go looking for someplace else to hang out. Like a secret room that may or may not exist.
And for some reason the thought pulls me toward that stupid supply closet.
“Stay here,” I say.
“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” it asks.
“I want to be alone.”
“And right now is exactly when you need me, if there are problems both with the video surveillance system and your own cognitive abilities.”
“Fine,” I tell it. “But keep a little distance and stay quiet so I can at least pretend you aren’t there.”
“You’re not going to answer my question?”
“If you’re going to spout nonsense at me, then no.”
I duck out of the room. At the end of the hallway I’m bracing myself for when I pass the murder room of mystery, where Westin continues to wait for me. But he’s not the only one.
Kolten is hovering outside the supply closet, tapping numbers into the keypad, methodically, like there’s a list in his head that he’s running through. Each time a code fails there’s a soft little angry buzz. I whisper to Ruby, “Stay out of sight,” so Kolten doesn’t try to shut it down again. Then I come up behind him. He’s so wrapped up in trying codes that he doesn’t even hear me approach.
After he puts in a code that doesn’t work I reach past him and type in the correct code, and he jerks back.
The lock makes a happy ding, and I push down on the door handle, letting him in. He stares at me for a second, like, is this okay?, and then he steps inside, like a kid running into a playground.
Except this playground sucks. He surveys the contents of the industrial metal shelves, starts moving things around, looking at the back wall, knocking on it, searching for hollow points. After a fairly thorough sweep, he steps outside.
“If you needed shampoo you could have just called down to reception,” I tell him.
“Hmm,” he says, not listening. Then he turns to me. “Where’s your sidekick?”
“Felt like a solo excursion this evening.”
He nods, too trusting. Then he rubs the doorframe, like it’s an old friend he hasn’t seen in a while.
“Would you let me open up the walls?”
The laugh explodes out of my chest before I can even consider containing it. “Why in the hell would I let you do that?”
“Because I believe this is where the room is.”
I give something away at this. A little jerk. An inhale of air. His secret room next to my room with a secret. His eyes slide toward me, and rather than let him press, I tell him, “You so much as scratch the paint I will drag your ass out of here myself. Anyway, dude, look around. It’s a closet.” I point to the far wall. “You want to knock a hole in there, you end up outside. This room isn’t any smaller than the other closets. I can tell you that by looking. Want to know how? Because I know every goddamn inch of this place.”