Paul swallowed. “Captain, there’s no way to say this without sounding like an asshole, but with IAN working, why can’t you ask him directly?”
“Because he isn’t working at one hundred percent. He’s admitted to turning us around against my direct order, and he’s unable to stop himself from doing so. Unfortunately he doesn’t know where in his programming this restraining code lives. One of your jobs is to find holes in his knowledge and help him patch them,” she said. “Then find and remove that code.”
“Oh, okay, sure. Well, it probably didn’t erase itself, so I’ll see if I can help IAN along with his recovery,” Paul said. He widened the UI around them so he could look more closely at some of the servers.
Most had lost the terrible red color of alarm, choosing instead to display the pleasant green of an empty drive. Which wasn’t much better. IAN’s facial hologram waited in the corner, eyes closed.
“Why did this happen?” the captain said, seeming to say it to herself more than him. “We all have our pasts; maybe someone is trying to kill for revenge.”
“Maybe it’s not us. Maybe it’s clones overall,” Paul said.
“We had our political problems, sure. But we’re also carrying thousands of humans aboard. What kind of fanatic would endanger so many?”
“Almost as if there was more than one person at work here,” Paul said. “It sounds like there was more conflict than just fighting. Mind games and the like.”
She rubbed her chin. “Like a game of cat and mouse. Interesting.”
Bebe Makes a Pig
Later that morning, Maria took a shower and a break from biohazard cleanup to program pig-making into Bebe.
The problems many world religions had with cloning didn’t even compare with the issues they had with synthesized food. They simply didn’t know what to do with it. Most of the reformed religions had already accepted the meat from previously “forbidden” animals, but many old-school religions still avoided shellfish, pork, or beef on principle. Science couldn’t override the will of God, or gods, they argued. And besides, why would they suddenly start eating something they had never eaten before? They had been doing just fine for millennia not eating pork, no reason to start now.
But that was all moot, considering few clones followed organized religions. It was with pure secular horror that Maria watched the Behemoth knit together the strands of protein to create a pig before her very eyes.
Hiro walked into the kitchen and stood beside her, watching the masterpiece of modern performance art through the window.
“If the food printer is busy, what are we going to do for lunch?” he asked, his wide eyes fixed upon the growing beast.
“Is that all you can think about? You ate a few hours ago!” Maria said.
“Well, yeah. I’m still hungry.”
“I made some sandwich stuff beforehand so you can eat what you like whenever you like today,” Maria said, pointing at the counter where sat a loaf of bread, a variety of meats and cheeses, and some slices of synth-veg. Protein was somewhat easier than vegetables for the food printer to create.
“You’re really making a pig? Why?” he asked.
“Because the instructions say I can. At least according to IAN, who was kind enough to translate it for me.” She held up her tablet, where she had Spanish and English food printer instructions at last.
“It seems to be working fine. Uh, if that’s fine.” He made a face. Maria didn’t blame him; not every aspect of food printing was entirely comforting to watch, especially if you hadn’t watched it closely before.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to have a big thing to throw into the recycler after this if I don’t make it right,” she said.
“I can’t watch a pig’s innards knitted together,” he mumbled, pulling out his tablet. “I have to see what the Japanese instructions said about making a pig. This isn’t natural.”
“Well, no, it’s synthetic,” Maria pointed out.
Hiro called up the instructions and paused to read. He held it close to his face, reading the Japanese aloud in a whispered tone.
“Hey, can I borrow your tablet?” he asked. “I want to see the English version of the instructions. To compare IAN’s translation.”
She handed it over while still staring at Bebe. “Sure. I’ve been reading the Spanish, but scroll down and you’ll get the English.”
He scrolled around for a moment, and then compared the tablets. His face drained of color, and he handed her tablet back. “Yes, you have it right.”
Maria took it, alarmed. She put her hand on Hiro’s arm. “Wait a second, are you all right? You look like you’re next to be cooked.”
Hiro went slightly paler, but he stammered to regain his conversational footing. “No—no, that’s not it. It just uses phrasing I haven’t seen in several decades. Seems strange that the language evolves as technology improves, but the instructions are still as dry as ever. Right?”
Maria didn’t believe it for a moment. “Sure, Hiro. Whatever.”
“Really. I’m fine.” He glanced down at his tablet again. “Actually I think I need some rest. Call me when the pig is done.”
She watched him go, anxiety beginning to twist in her gut. Her tablet pinged and she answered. “Yeah?”
“Maria, are you alone?” Joanna asked.
“Aside from IAN, yeah,” she said.
Joanna paused. “How did cleaning go today?”
“I’m not even a quarter done. The room is a nightmare mess. I’m taking a break to program some food into Bebe and then I’ll get back to it.”
“I see. Well, it’s a dangerous situation to be in, you can get an infection very easily, so if anything happens I want you to find me immediately, understand?”
“Crystal clear, Doc,” Maria said.
Hiro lay on his back in the dark, sure that he was suffering from paranoia. That was all there was to it.
He couldn’t confirm what he’d read. No one else read Japanese. Except for IAN, and Hiro didn’t want to show him the instructions.
The realization came crashing down on him, and he sat up abruptly. IAN had read it already; he’d translated for Maria. But he hadn’t translated the part that Hiro had seen. That just doubled his paranoia. He should talk to the doctor.
“IAN, are you in here?” he asked.
“Yes, but I can’t see you well. I can see your heat signature. Why are you in the dark, Hiro?”
“Just thinking. Thanks for translating the instructions for Maria.”
“It’s one of my many jobs,” IAN said.
“I noticed you didn’t translate everything,” he said casually. “Like in the how-to-use section?”
“That’s unlikely, I translated everything I found,” IAN said, a troubled tone coloring his voice. He was sounding more and more human as he repaired himself. He paused. “There was some garbage code in there. I overlooked it.”
“You didn’t see my name in there? Specifically?”
“Well, now that you mention it, your name was by the garbage code. I must have seen your name and assumed it was a private message.”
Hiro frowned. “What’s your percentage of recovery right now?”