I flexed the manipulator field around my fingers.
Momentum exchange technology is well understood, but doing anything fancy with it is hard. Normally it takes big machines with massive amounts of computing power to do anything more complex than a simple repulsion effect.
I floated a clump of dirt out of the planter next to my bed, and twirled it in the air.
Hundreds of thousands of tiny emitters lined the bones of my hands, working together to spin an intricate superposition of fields that summed to exactly the effect I wanted. I could make it all happen without even thinking about it, or I could zoom in and watch each individual emitter work. The math for that kind of system was supposed to be horrifically intractable, the sort of thing you’d need a giant supercomputer the size of the Square Deal to solve. But somehow the quantum computers that were built into my emitters managed to do it in real time.
How much would it cost to design something like that?
It made Emla’s dragon transformation look simple in comparison, and it wasn’t the only example. How could an AI running on a network of quantum processors be integrated with a human brain so seamlessly that even from the inside I couldn’t tell where one side ended and the other began? Why were my combat reflexes so much better than even Chief West’s warbots? Why was it that every single ability I had performed like some kind of bleeding-edge prototype, and yet they all functioned perfectly?
Someone must have spent stupidly huge amounts of money engineering me. Had Mom really been that rich? Or did I come from some secret government project? Had she stolen me?
Why had no one ever come looking for me? No one lets a billion-credit investment just disappear if they have a choice about it.
I looked at the manipulator field again. Billion? Hah! Try trillion. That was a major advance in the state of the art, and I was making it look easy. Besides, there was that new impossibility growing in my chest to consider. You’d think an invention like that would have made the news. But no, a quick datanet search informed me that the smallest such devices were supposed to be half a meter in diameter and weigh in at a hundred kilograms. Supposedly mine was going to be… six centimeters? And less than a kilogram?
In a vidshow this would be my clue that Mom was a time traveler, or maybe an alien. But that didn’t work, either. We know what it would take to travel backwards in time, and anyone with the resources to pull that off would make even my tech look like a cave man banging rocks together. Nothing made sense.
The sound of laughter from the living room drew me out of my thoughts. I wandered over to the balcony, and looked down to find Emla and Lina sitting on my couch watching a vidshow.
The display showed a typical corporate drone’s office, with a big desk in the middle of the room and a smaller cluster of chairs off to one side. The action going on didn’t look like a typical meeting, though. A pair of busty teenage catgirls in slutty dresses were making out with a willowy older woman in more conservative clothes, right on her own desk. The office worker was so distracted by their attention that she didn’t even notice one of them stealthily plugging a data stick into her computer.
The computer’s display lit up, showing flashes of what was supposed to be a bunch of files being copied. And a progress bar. And a big, blinking message that said ‘Decrypting Files’.
It was so silly I couldn’t help but giggle.
“What the heck are you two watching?” I called down.
“Alice!” Emla spun and leaped off the couch, her wings spreading for a moment to give her a boost. She soared all the way up to the balcony, and I had to brace myself to absorb her enthusiastic tackle hug.
“Welcome back, Mistress. That was a long training session. Did you learn a lot?”
She was so enthusiastic I didn’t have the heart to discourage her. Besides, it felt good to be hugged like that. Dika had never been a touchy-feely sort of person, and the less said about my relations with the rest of the orphanage kids the better.
“I learned that control interfaces meant for humans are really frustrating,” I grumbled. “Oh, and Chief West is a sadist. He wants me qualified to command warbots before we get to Taragi, so I’m going to be stuck in VR classes all day for a while.”
Emla cocked her head. “Doesn’t he understand that you don’t need a control interface?” She asked.
“He thinks I’m using direct control as a crutch. I don’t know, maybe he’s right.”
“He’s kind of a traditionalist about military training,” Lina said, looking up over the back of the couch at me. “Which is weird for an infomorph, but I guess it just shows that he’s still human where it counts. He always wants to do things the way he was trained.”
I scooped Emla up, and hopped off the balcony. She giggled happily, and slaved her manipulator system to mine so I could control our fall. Goddess, she was so trusting. Even after my mistake had almost gotten her killed. It only made me more determined to protect her from now on.
I landed us lightly on the back of the couch, and plopped down into the spot where Emla had been sitting. Ash followed us down, and settled himself on my shoulder.
“I guess I can live with it, if it means finally getting some real training,” I said. “What’s up, Lina? I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
Why did she suddenly look nervous?
“Yeah, um, sorry about barging into your space. You were in VR when I came by, but Emla insisted I should stay and wait for you.”
Emla settled herself happily in my lap. “I thought you’d want to see your friend, Alice. I know you’re not from one of those colonies where the humans get all weird about their personal space, so I didn’t think you’d mind. Did I do the right thing?”
“It’s fine, Emla. Lina, you’re my friend. You’re welcome to visit whenever you want.”
She gave me a relieved smile. “Thanks, Alice. I was a little worried you’d be mad at me.”
“For what?”
“Putting you in danger? I never should have asked you to get that breaker, Alice. I just, well, somehow it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t have a team of warbots to send in.”
“Why not?” I asked. That did seem like an odd oversight.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just something about you, Alice.”
“Alice has awesome command presence, doesn’t she?” Emla purred.
“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “I look like a helpless little kid.”
“Only to humans,” Emla disagreed. “Pick up a gun and start giving orders, and every android you see will jump to obey.”
Lina nodded, and leaned over to put her hand on my knee. “She’s right about that, Alice. It’s not how you look, it’s the way you move. The confidence in your voice. Even your scent. All those little cues humans can barely pick up on, but we’re designed to notice them. It all says when the shit hits the fan you’re the one who’s in charge.”