“Your questions are not relevant,” the voice said.
Let me rephrase that, I said. I’m going to do what you want. I’ve decided that. But it would help me if I knew a few things as well. I understand I can’t force you to answer any questions. But it would help me be helpful to you if you would consider answering them.
There was an actual pause here. “What are your questions?”
I have three, I said. Which again, was news to me, but I could come up with three questions, right?
And in fact one popped up in my head. First, do you have a name?
“Why would that matter?”
Because I feel awkward just thinking of you as “that voice in my head,” I thought. If we are going to be working together it would be nice to have a name for you.
“You may call me Control,” the voice said.
Okay, good, I thought. Hello, Control.
Control waited, silent. Well, fine.
Second, would it be possible for me to speak to Secretary Ocampo at some point?
“Why would you need to speak to him?”
I don’t need to speak to him, I thought. I have already agreed to help you. But when I was taken off the Chandler he told me that he was doing this, whatever this is, to help humanity. I want to talk to him more about that, to understand what he meant.
“It doesn’t matter if you understand,” Control said.
I know this, I thought, and though I know you’re under no obligation to care, I disagree. You have my help. But if you had my understanding I might be even more useful. Secretary Ocampo is an admirable man. I respect him. If he’s doing this, he must have a reason. I think that reason could make sense to me. I would like to know more about it.
“We will not let you speak to Secretary Ocampo now,” Control said. “But if in your work you do well, we may consider it for the future.”
Fair enough, I thought.
“Do not ask us about it again.”
Of course not. You’ve already said you’d think about it. That’s enough.
“Your final question.”
Will you give me your word that I will get my body back?
“My word,” Control said.
Yes, your word, I thought. Your promise. I already said I would help you. I will. I will do everything you ask me to. You said that if I did I would get my body back. That was the deal. But there are deals, and there are promises. A deal you can make with anyone. A promise is something you make with someone you trust. If you make a promise with me, that means I can trust you. And that means I can stop worrying about whether I can believe you or not. And that means I can do what you ask me to, better.
And once more there was a pause.
I had a point in asking these questions, even if I didn’t know I was doing it when I started.
Information. Trust. Creating intimacy and a relationship.
I’d asked for a name, and while Control wasn’t much of a name, it was something. A personalization. Something that made that royal we into an “I.” Asking to speak to Ocampo further extended our deal, and turned it from something general—something they probably forced on every pilot whose brain they put into a box—into something specific to me.
And asking for Control’s word? More intimacy—making the deal between me and it. Something with reciprocity. Something with trust.
It was also a test.
“You have my word,” Control said.
Now I knew everything I needed to know about Control.
And Control had no idea that I knew.
That’s all I need, I said. I’m ready to get started when you are.
“Then let’s begin,” Control said.
The Chandler’s bridge appeared all around me.
Or, more accurately, a computerized visual representation of the Chandler’s bridge; cleaner, plainer, and with all extraneous detail stripped from view.
“You recognize this,” Control prompted.
Of course, I thought.
It was the standard bridge simulation program, used for training purposes, configured for the Chandler’s bridge setup, which in itself was pretty standard.
I recognized it because like anyone else who ever did time on a bridge, I’d spent a couple hundred hours using it in addition to actual physical training at the specific bridge station.
I also recognized it because I helped to program it.
Or a slightly earlier version of it, anyway. It’d been a few years. This was probably an updated release of it.
That said, a quick glance suggested that not much had changed in the software since I had worked on it. It didn’t even look like it was a new major release from what I had worked on. A point release, maybe? With some minor fixes? How does an organization clearly not hooked into the mainstream of Colonial Union commerce even get these programs? I felt vaguely annoyed on behalf of my former employer that this program had clearly been pirated.