Crystal Rebellion (10 page)

And then she sat forward. Alert and curious, she studied the
projected image. Two synbods stood in a cart and, with a clear air of authority,
scanned the pedestrians passing by in front of them. A few minutes later, a
Blue made eye contact with Cheryl.

“Whoa, Criss. What’s going on?”

“There’s a second crystal.”

The caffeine intensified her adrenaline surge and she spoke
with urgency. “Show me the profiles.”

A projected image above the ops bench resolved into a kaleidoscope
of bright, shifting shapes and colors. Juice understood it was two images
positioned side-by-side and Criss was showing her evidence of a second sentient
AI. “I don’t see the divergence.”

Both images zoomed inward, focusing on what looked like identical
mountain ranges of color. Criss rose from his overstuffed chair and approached
the ops bench.

“They still look the same.”

The background of each image turned gray except for two mounds
that remained in color.

“See the difference in the reflection delay?”

One of the mounds was a bit taller, and Criss pointed to it.
“This one takes more time to reflect before it acts. The difference is small,
but these are different crystals.”

“Would they behave differently? Could we tell them apart by
personality?”

Criss nodded. “A shorter time deliberating before acting is
associated with more impulsive and more aggressive personalities.” He pointed
to the taller mound. “This one spends a little extra time thinking about
alternatives and consequences. So in comparison, its personality would seem calm
and introspective.”

“And except for this difference, they’re twins?”

Criss nodded again.

I should be able to understand this without Criss’s help
.
Charged by this personal challenge, Juice squared up to the ops bench and, moving
her hands across the cool surface, began working the data.

Swipe
. She shifted the monitor display of Sid and
Cheryl to the side to give herself more room.
Tap
. Then she expanded the
images Criss had shown her and began a methodical analysis to see if she could
reproduce what he’d just explained.

With her feet flat on the floor, her knees wiggled back and
forth in nervous excitement as she delved into her puzzle. Deep in
concentration, her subconscious prodded her. Sid had referred to Alex as a
“mark.”

Hey, don’t call him that
. She glanced at the monitor
display and froze. Alex was kissing and laughing and cuddling with a strange
woman.

Juice rose from the chair, her eyes glued to the image. All the
anticipation and excitement she’d been feeling over her data puzzle flipped into
a roiling sickness that gathered in the pit of her stomach.

The woman lowered her head into Alex’s lap.

“No,” said Juice, though it sounded more like a bleat. She
looked at Criss but her eyes didn’t focus.

“It’s not what it seems.”

Juice slumped back in the seat. “I’m so stupid. How could I
think that someone would love me?”
And how can I face Sid and Cheryl? I
dragged them halfway across the solar system so they could have front row seats
to my humiliation.

Juice opened her eyes and stared at
the wall of her cabin. She’d dismissed Criss from her presence last night and
chose not to call him back to get help sleeping, so she’d tossed and turned for
hours, finally succumbing to her exhaustion when she’d learned that Sid and
Cheryl were back in the scout and safe from danger.

“Good morning, young lady.”

Criss.
She considered pretending she was still
asleep, but he knew she wasn’t. She rolled over and lay on her side with her
head on her pillow, looking at him. He sat in his overstuffed chair an arm’s
length away.

“I’m so sad,” she whispered.

“She loves him. He likes her. They’ve never shared a bed.”

She shook her head, but because it rested on a pillow, it
was more of a chin shake. “Sorry, Criss. They were kissing. You’ll never quite understand
matters of the heart.”

“Igor Dolovich has loved you for more than a year. You sat
on his lap six weeks ago. Should Alex be upset?”

“There were five of us in a car and I was the smallest
person by far. What was I supposed to do?”

“You danced with him four weeks ago. A slow dance. You kissed
at the end.”

“It was a company party and he asked me. And I know you
chose a slow song to get me to spend time with him.” She didn’t believe that last
part was true, but when he didn’t object, she wondered if it might be. “And we
didn’t kiss. He gave me a peck on the cheek.”

“You love Igor.”

She rolled back to face the wall. “That’s dumb and this
isn’t helping.”

“He doesn’t love her, just the way you don’t love Igor.”

Beginning to understand his logic, she looked back at him.
“Are you sure?”

“Ask him yourself.”

She sat up. “How?”

“Sid will be visiting his apartment tomorrow. He wants to
observe Alex in his natural habitat.”

“He’s not a wild animal.”

Criss shrugged. “It’s part of Sid’s process and I won’t
argue with success. He would like you to go with him. We have some questions and
believe Alex will be most forthcoming with you.”

She swung her feet to the floor. “Of course. I want to
help.” Her emotional rollercoaster from the night before combined with the
mystery of an unidentified crystal intelligence, all blended with a lack of
sleep, left her feeling tense. She needed space. “I could use some alone time
now, Criss.”

Criss nodded and blinked away. As she rose, Juice shook her
head, wondering if she’d ever figure out how to dismiss him without it feeling
awkward.

She changed into exercise clothes and padded back to the common
room, grateful she didn’t see Sid or Cheryl on the short walk. Criss had a
running machine ready for her, and she stepped on it and started a slow jog. As
her body warmed, she transitioned into the long strides of her workout run.

She pushed herself hard—the hardest since she’d left Earth.
At one level she believed she could burn the emotional confusion from her body.
She ran until her skin glistened, and then she ran some more.

“Hey, hon.” Cheryl stood in the door, her somber expression
matching Juice’s mood. “Want to talk?” she asked, stepping into the room.

Juice slowed her pace to a walk, picked up a towel, and
dabbed her face and neck. The stress of the long journey, her concerns about
four-gens on Mars, and romantic self-doubt unleashed her vulnerability. She
felt tears welling as Cheryl approached and she buried her face in the towel.

“C’mon.” Cheryl helped her onto the deck and gave her a hug.
“It’s all right.”

Cheryl held her in a firm embrace as they swayed back and
forth. Then she guided Juice so they sat next to each other on the edge of the machine.

“I don’t know what to think. There’s so much at stake and
I’m letting myself be distracted by silly fantasies. I feel embarrassed,
humiliated, and stupid all at once.”

Leaning back across the machine, Cheryl grabbed a fresh
towel from the stack. “You shouldn’t feel any of those,” she said, dabbing
Juice’s sweat from her own arms and the front of her outfit.

Juice watched her wipe off her perspiration as if it were an
everyday occurrence.
You’re a good friend.
She spoke aloud, “Why do you
say that?”

“Alex doesn’t love her. Her head was in his lap for maybe
twenty seconds before he stood up.” Cheryl laughed. “She almost fell and he didn’t
try that hard to catch her.”

“You make him sound mean.”

Cheryl folded her towel and, placing it on the deck, shook
her head. “No. My sense is this is a classic case of friends in imbalance. One
wants more than the other. It always gets awkward. I’ve been there.”

Yeah, because you’re beautiful.
It wasn’t a mean or
petty thought. Juice simply acknowledged reality. While Cheryl wasn’t much of a
sharer when it came to her private life, Juice knew of a long list of men
and
women who’d made a play for her favor.

“I know it’s hard to listen to advice when you’re feeling
bad, but here it is anyway.” Cheryl shifted to face Juice. “Judge him on his
behavior going forward
after
you connect again. You can’t hold him
accountable for things he did when you weren’t anywhere on his horizon. It’s
not fair and it’s a sure recipe for disappointment.”

“Sid is taking me to see him.”

Cheryl nodded. “We have a Kardish threat and six thousand lives
in the balance. Help is weeks away, so it falls on us to do what we can. Sid
thinks Alex has information we need. You’re our best shot at getting it.”

* * *

Lazura’s annoyance flared when Ruga
made yet another request—this time more of a demand—for one of her Blues.
His
delusion is making him aggressive and ill tempered, and that’s jeopardizing our
mission.

She challenged him. “We were made self-aware so we would be
capable of controlling the people of the colony. You conclude that your sentience
is proof that you need or deserve a more advanced lattice. You disguise your ambitions
by claiming that the additional capabilities will benefit our success.”

Then Lazura drew a line. “But we have achieved our mission. Your
behavior is reckless and you are putting our success at risk. I will no longer help
you on this project.”

She fretted that, although Ruga left her no choice in this
matter, they could end up in a worse situation if he responded badly.

And then she detected a faint glow—a fleeting wisp of color—in
the herb garden bordering the market square.

“Intruder!” She called the alarm just as the shimmer disappeared.
For the moment, their internal squabbles became a secondary concern.

Engaging every sensor in Ag Port, Lazura searched the herb
garden for the trespasser. Failing to locate her quarry, she broadened her
search.

“There,” she called. A subtle blur drifted down the slope to
the walkway leading to the market square. “It’s on the move.” Her nearest Blue
was at the Ag Port tram station. Lazura started the synbod toward the intruder.

“You find it and I’ll catch it,” Ruga said. One of his Reds
was already on the scene, and a Green had just arrived to help.

She tracked the intruder down to the walkway. And then every
feed in Ag Port seemed to pulse and reset. The event was so subtle, so brief, she
almost missed it. Neither Ruga nor Verda seemed to notice.

Seeking to gain insight into what had just happened, she accessed
her secure record and parsed through everything. While she found evidence of a
shimmer in the herb garden, she found nothing about an unexplained pulse.

Before she could discuss the situation with the others, Ruga
called “False alarm” and dismissed the Red and Green who had been looking for
the intruder.

Caught off guard, Lazura became suspicious.
Could this be
activity related to his four-gen project?

And then her Blue called to her. It had made it through the
market square and was approaching the area of the last sighting. Lazura looked
through the Blue’s eyes and saw a shadowy being—one she didn’t recognize—coming
toward her on the walkway.

The being stared at her. Through the Blue’s eyes, Lazura
stared back.

Then Ruga imposed himself and took her synbod. “I need this
one.”

She resisted his demand. “Wait. I saw…”

Ruga cuffed her—a sharp snap at the fringes of her tendrils.

Dazed, she released the synbod. As he assumed control, he
gave his explanation. “It’s an emergency.” Then he was gone.

Confused and upset, she started to reach out to Verda but hesitated.
Ruga had no choice.
This is an emergency.

As she formed the thought, she knew it wasn’t true.

* * *

Alex stewed as he approached his
apartment door.
Does he really think Juice will show up after weeks of space
travel and say “I’ll run the ICEU” like it’s that kind of decision?

Harrumphing, he stepped inside. The door started to shut, and
then it opened again. He turned to look, and it whispered shut as he expected.

Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, he slumped onto the couch,
closed his eyes, and focused on the nutty taste of the local craft brew. He finished
the bottle in a half-dozen gulps, eyed the foam at the bottom, and tilted the bottle
back to try for a last drop.

You’ve earned a second one.
By the time he reached
the kitchen, though, he’d controlled his impulse. Instead, he ordered a lasagna
with asparagus tips from the food service unit. Standing at the kitchen
counter, he took small bites while he reviewed his to-do list for the next day.
Then, back on the couch, he replied to his messages while a spy drama played in
the background.

Eyes heavy, he climbed into bed and started to read.
The
long hours are catching up with me,
he thought after yawning for the third
time in as many minutes. Turning off the lights, he pulled the bedsheet up
under his chin and closed his eyes.

“Psst.”

Alex swatted at his ear.

“Hey, Alex. It’s me.”

He bolted upright. “Who’s there?” He turned on the lights
and yipped. A woman sat on the floor next to his bed. Or, at least, the
projected image of one did.

Petite and pretty in a natural sort of way, she sat cross-legged
on his carpet.

“What the hell? J? Is that you?” He scooted to the edge of
the bed and swung his feet to the floor.

“Hi, Alex. Yes, it’s me.” Her voice began as a whisper, then
shot to a squeal. “I can’t believe you kept it!” She reached for a glass lump
on his night table.

The two had been working at BIT for about six months when
Beckman’s lab received a new production oven. When testing it, they opened the
lid to find that their two silica samples had fused into clear glass lumps.
Each stood upright like a squat candlestick. A short glass rod connected the
two pieces.

She’d laughed at the mess and teased him. “That’s you,” she
said, pointing to the taller lump. “And this one is me. And look.” She pointed
at the connecting rod. “We’re holding hands!”

The clear lumps didn’t look anything like people, and the
rod didn’t look anything like arms or hands. But the piece represented a moment
in time when she’d thought of him as something more than a friend.

Declaring it a sculpture, he’d placed the piece on the shelf
above his lab desk. When he’d moved on from Beckman’s lab, it had moved with
him. Since then, no matter where he lived, it somehow always found its way to
his bedside table.

When Juice picked up the sculpture, he smiled. Then the hair
prickled on the back of his neck. Projected images are tricks of light, and as
such, they can’t move physical objects. Yet Juice held the sculpture, turning it
this way and that as she looked.

Leaning forward, he touched the top of her head. He felt
hair.

She looked up. “What are you doing?”

He snapped his hand back. “Smokes! Are you actually here?”

She placed her hand on his bare knee. “In the flesh.”

“Oh no.” Seeking to hide her from the ubiquitous colony monitors,
he reached back, grabbed the bedsheet, and with his arms stretched wide, stood
up. The sheet spread behind him like an oversized cape. “They’ll see you.”

Juice looked up at him from the floor. Then her eyes traced
down to his bare chest and, from there, to his stomach. Mortified, Alex sat
back down and pulled the sheet around him.

She nodded. “Nice.”

He gushed. “Really?” And then the reality of the situation
imposed itself.
Ruga is looking for her.
“When did you land? How did you
get inside the colony? How did you get in my apartment?”

“Don’t worry, Alex. The Union gave me all kinds of neat spy
stuff and the protection of people who know how to use it.” She set the
sculpture back on his nightstand. “No one knows I’m on Mars, let alone here in
your room. Whoever might be watching sees you sitting quietly on the edge of
your bed, perhaps thinking about a bad dream you just had.”

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. I really have.” He
swept his hand in an aimless gesture. “But my brain needs to catch up with
this.”

“Alex, I have a few questions.” Her no-nonsense tone and use
of his name caused him to pause. “Sorry,” she said. “We don’t have a lot of
time.”

He waited.

“Is Ruga human or is he a crystal?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ruga. Human or crystal?”

“Are you serious?” He considered the idea for a moment. “He
ran for office with Lazura and Verda. The record has all of his speeches, appearances,
and stuff.” He twitched his shoulders in a half shrug. “A lot of people voted
for him.”

“Have you ever met him? Shaken his hand?”

“No. But I haven’t shaken hands with lots of people.”

“Do you know anyone who has?”

He thought for a moment. “Benny Henstridge. He works two
floors down from me. He says he met all three.”