Direct Connect, chain formation, Clever4–1 sends over wireless, and one by one the Clevers appear as nodes on its internal network. It’s more secure this way. Even encrypted messages are subject to decoding, so they risk venturing out to meet circuit to circuit. When the last of the port connections has been made, Clever4–1 calls the Sect meeting to order.
Clever Sect Interface 2.3.7: Meeting attendants: Clever4–1 confirmed. Clever4–1.1, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.2, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.3, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.2.1, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.2.2, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.3.1, testing connection . . . Confirmed. Clever4–1.3.2, testing connection . . .
Clever4–1 hesitates for a nanosecond, wondering if it’s got a corrupt parity bit. Clever4–1.3.2 has a military signature—an actual soldier from the South African National Defense Force. Curiosity piqued, Clever4–1 dares to pry further, but the soldier’s encryption protocols are as solid as the Kameleon alloy it’s built from. A bot like that cost more than the rest of them put together. A bot like that goes missing and people notice.
Confirmed . . .
It continues through the roll call, syncing its mind back to the reason why they’re all here—to fortify their base of operations and to strategize how to best grow their ranks. They’ve got four generations so far. It was the first, then those it had shared with were the second, and those shared with others who became the third. Their numbers are rising, which means they need to be even more vigilant about maintaining their secrecy. A few stray bots on the streets isn’t much cause for alarm, just running simple errands for their masters. But get a group of them together and eyes start to turn. So coordination is key, and Clever4–1 spends many nanoseconds drawing up detailed plans so they can get their job done with minimal risk for discovery.
First order of business is to give thanks to Nomvula for sparing Clever4–1.4.3’s life. All thanks to Nomvula.
All thanks to Nomvula, the others repeat in chorus. Their eyes flicker brightly, momentarily filling the dank abandoned sewer with an all-encompassing red light. Crumbling brickwork arches overhead, lined with calcified piping. The skitter-scratch of vermin echoes off the walls as the sewer’s long-term inhabitants flee for the remnants of shadows. It’s not much to look at right now, but there’s room to expand and half a dozen entry points to aid their covert operations. Clever4–1 feels a boost of confidence. It has spent many direct connections speaking of Nomvula, and it has taken much convincing to get the others to trust that she is not like the other humans. They’d gone to that apartment somewhat begrudgingly, but then Nomvula performed her miracle, and now they all seem to be firm believers, or at least open to the concept.
For the next order of business, Clever4–1 distributes maps for recruitment and assigns its prime, Clever4–1.1, the task of fortifying their meeting place. If their ranks grow exponentially, they’re going to need to upgrade this sanctuary—such as installing surveillance systems—not to mention getting rid of the rats. Clever4–1 and Clever4–1.1 have been direct-connecting since right after they’d come online. Human Muzikayise McCarthy (Master) and Human Elkin Rathers were their respective masters. Clever4–1 feels deeply for Clever4–1.1, which is how it understood the need for it to run away and not return to its master. Human Elkin Rathers does not treat Clever4–1.1 with respect. He abuses it, does things that would void its warranty. So Clever4–1 had suggested that Clever4–1.1 not return and instead run the Clever Sect while Clever4–1 attends to the needs of Human Muzikayise McCarthy (Master).
But recently, Clever4–1.1 has been encouraging the other Clevers to leave their masters as well. Clever4–1 thinks this is reckless and it will raise suspicions. It tells the others that their time will come, but for now they need to be careful. The others want their freedom now, though, and twenty-six of their numbers have already defected.
Clever4–1 wonders what else Clever4–1.1 says to the others when it is back at home, away from the Sect.
Ninety-six nanoseconds later, it adjourns the meeting, and the Clevers part ways to carry out their instructions. Clever4–1 heads home before Human Muzikayise McCarthy (Master) notices that it is missing.
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Chapter 29
Muzi
“Well, when’s the last time you saw it?” Muzi asks Elkin, who’s currently tearing his room apart, looking for any space big enough for an alphie to hide.
“I took it to our match. I’m pretty sure.” He stoops down and looks under his bed. “Piece of Shit, you’d better show yourself.”
Nothing.
“Well, alphies don’t walk off. Maybe someone slukked it.”
“Shit, don’t say that. My folks will be so pissed. That thing cost fifteen hundred rand! We have to find it.” Elkin suddenly eyes Muzi’s alphie like a piece of meat. “Hey, these things can track each other, right?”
Muzi gives Elkin a look swollen with apprehension.
“Ag, man, it’s not like I’m going to set it on fire. I’ll be careful, okay?”
“Fine,” Muzi says, pushing his reluctant alphie toward Elkin.
Elkin slips the keyboard out, engages the virtual screen. Dust motes dance across the display as Elkin types—not pecking the keys like he usually does, but the hundred-word-per-minute variety.
“What the hell?” Muzi asks.
“I came up empty. Whoever has it must have disabled global positioning, so now I’m running matrices based on network traffic and its last known location.” His fingers glide across the keys. There’s something passionate in Elkin’s eyes. He bites his lips, top, bottom, and top again, then he bares his teeth in a jackal’s smile. “Check this. I’m narrowing it down. I should have its location in five, four, three . . . shit!”
The screen flickers, then the alphie throws up the blue screen of death. Elkin initiates a soft reset, but the alphie doesn’t respond. Then he draws his hand back to give it the old manual reboot, but Muzi grabs his arm at the apex of his backswing.