Day Twenty ∞ 7:20 a.m. Wednesday morning 

TURNING TO THE NEXT ROW, Artemae faced the nearest worker laughing into his hand.

"I'll convert your computer now," she said.

The young man jumped out of his armchair to give her space, but instead she targeted each of the other operators with a grave stare. Only when the room returned somewhat to its business-like air did she place her hands on the console to initiate its conversion.

She returned to Briggs with a friendly smile. He was still grumpy, working his mouth.

"Any questions you want to ask me? Perhaps you'd like to check the settings? There are many interesting options under that tab."

"What I'd like to know," he threw a furtive glance at Gray, "is how a new computer could know details about me, like my full name, rank... and my civil status."

"This is not just a 'computer', this is an NSAI—a non-sentient artificial intelligence. And concerning your information, the hard drives of the former console contained detailed personnel files, in addition to other information. The data was transferred and saved.

"But... it is my considered opinion—as well as my advice—that in the future you abstain from any similar attempts to engage this equipment into recursive loops. If by any chance you succeed, you'll lose it, because I won't be here to fix it. Well," she regarded him for a while, then glanced around the room, "if there are no further questions, I'll continue replacing the rest of these antiques."

She checked the console with its screen just solidifying. Satisfied that it had completed its transformation, she waved the operator back to his seat then turned to Briggs who gaped at her in disbelief.

"I suggest you don't wait to instruct each of your colleagues. You want to minimize on the down-time here, don't you?"

Briggs snapped his mouth shut and obeyed, his wide eyes repeatedly drawn to her as she attended to each of the remaining consoles, the wall screens, and the two main stations.

Twenty minutes later, Artemae approached Gray who'd been watching everything from his vantage point at the master console. "My Queen asked me to give you a little present, as a token of her appreciation." Two shiny black dots appeared on her extended palm.

Gray donned his reading glasses from an inside pocket and stooped to peer at them. "What is it?"

"Smart Dots. They will transmit radio signals directly to your skull." Her tone was serious. "You'll receive the sound clearly even if there are lots of guns shooting next to you. In addition, it will translate any language you hear into English."

Eagerly, Gray picked up one of the spots to inspect it, then hesitated.

"Place them on the sides of your jaw."

The dots stuck to him and a few moments later changed texture, melding into his skin.

"Whoa, whoa," Baldie blurted, "they disappeared!"

Frowning, Gray tried to find the dots with his fingertips.

"They're embedded so he can never lose them," Artemae said. "Go ahead, speak to him using your radio."

Baldie glanced at her in surprise. Then he spoke into his left cuff, and Gray winced, his hand flying to his ear.

"Just say, 'Volume, lower.' Keep repeating 'lower' or 'higher' till the sound is satisfactory for you. If you want to transmit, just tap your jaw bone twice, and twice again to end transmission. Or, if your hands are busy, tap with your teeth."

"Aha." Gray nodded toward Baldie. "Is it possible to obtain a matching pair for my colleague to communicate with me?"

"Of course." Smiling, she produced two more dots. "Here, take these and place them on either side of your jaw. You can also have the NSAI communicate with you privately through them whenever you choose. I'll just finish setting up your master computers, and make that option available."

Baldie rubbed his skin, trying to feel where he'd applied the dots. "Ahm... How long does the battery last on these?"

"Oh! As long as you live. They're powered by your body. Their range varies depending on environmental factors but should reach a useful underground radius of about 500 meters. At least thrice that in the open."

Artemae activated the virtual keyboards of the main consoles and called up several configuration panels on the screens. "Your consoles control everything the other substations do," she continued as she rapid-tapped the desk. "In addition, you can override all the others in this room. You all are now authorized users. When Mister Briggs touched the table, the NSAI read his biometrics. To save time, I took the liberty of inputting your parameters," she said to Gray, "as well as those of your colleague." She pointed at Baldie, then turned around. "Mister Briggs, any questions before I leave?"

Briggs patted the shoulder of the operator he'd been talking to. "Yes." He approached her and chewed his lip for a moment. "If there's any malfunction... a glitch or anything wrong—how can I fix it? I'm afraid this technology is beyond anything I can understand, let alone hope to repair."

"Oh, don't be a worry-wart! It's very easy. This NSAI is fully capable of self-diagnostics. Come, I'll show you the modular components for hardware repair."

She headed to the sidewall and opened a narrow panel. Inside were shelves of neatly stacked, labeled boxes. "Here are the replacement parts."

Baldie threw Gray a puzzled glance. "I don't recall a storage space there."

Gray shrugged without taking his eyes off Artemae showing the young technician a box containing compact slides covered with printed circuitry.

"This one is for the graphic functions. When prompted, you just take out the defective one and replace it with a new one. The same goes for the sound card and the rest of the components. Everything is modular. Let me show you."

She went to the nearest console and unscrewed a side panel. Briggs spied an array of modular components in neat rows before she stuck her finger inside and touched a circuit board. A hiss ended with a spark, then the screen died.

Aghast, Briggs worked his mouth. "Y-you just damaged a component on p-purp-pose?"

"Yes, I did," Artemae replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "As you can see, the graphic interface is disabled. To be sure, ask the NSAI what's wrong."

"Uhm." Briggs cleared his throat. "Eva... what's wrong?"

The sexy voice sent shivers down his back, "The Graphics Card suffered an electrical short. Please, replace it."

Artemae stepped aside. "Now, take it out and replace it. You want to learn how to fix it, don't you?"

Resigned, he risked glancing at his bosses, then tentatively grasped the flat board and pulled. Nothing happened, so he gently rocked it sideways until it released. He took the new graphics card offered by Artemae and placed it in its slot. The screen flickered, then the view of two women and several men at the hangar appeared.

Briggs stood transfixed, blinking slowly. "Amazing," he managed to say under his breath and removed his thick spectacles to wipe his face.

"Well... Since it appears I've done all I need to do here, I'll depart now. My Queen needs me."

Curious, Briggs pushed the glasses back up his nose. "Uhm... Who's your Queen?"

Artemae smiled fondly, pointing at the screen. "She is. Goodbye."

He glanced at it. "Wait! Before you go, can you tell me where the hard drives are in this setup?"

"There are no mobile parts in this ensemble." She pointed to a small, flat square above the rows of circuit boards. "This is the equivalent to your obsolete hard disk. It does not spin. It's solid-state and can hold 100 petabytes. No time to explain anymore. Any question you have, you can ask the NSAI directly. My Queen is calling me. Goodbye."

Nodding at Gray, she lost density and vanished.

Briggs just stood there, mouth opening and closing. "Petabytes?" After a while, he shook his head as of to clear it and peered at the screen. There, approaching the black-haired woman, was Artemae.

"Just who the hell is this girl?" he exclaimed.

Gray fixed him with a stern glare. "I'm afraid that's classified. Need to know only, do you understand?"

Briggs spluttered but couldn't speak. Then he managed to blurt, "Yes, sir! Understood, sir!" The hard stare made him very uncomfortable.

Finally, Gray broke the tense silence. "Take two of these... assemblages... artifacts—whatever you want to call them—take them apart and reassemble one. I want every part examined, scrutinized, analyzed, and reversed-engineered as soon as possible. Is that understood?"

∞

"Yo, Jagg!"

Jagg glanced at TJ jabbing his thumb over his shoulder outside and pulled over on the dusty curb.

"We should top-up," TJ continued.

"We've got two spare tanks and extra oil in the back," Jagg responded. "And plenty water. Should be enough."

"How d'you know? This is the desert, and the sign said it's the last chance. No more service stations."

Jagg glanced in the side mirror. "Sure. Why not?"

TJ made a U-turn as Jagg turned to Lora and snapped his fingers in front of her. She'd been silent for the past hour, just staring straight ahead.

"I'm gonna go back to the gas station and top-up," he said when she met his gaze. "TJ and I'll check for any news about the bank and get a few more supplies. You can wait here under that tree. Better you stay this one out."

Lora nodded, still absent-minded.

"You okay? We're still on schedule, right?"

"Yes." She suddenly smiled and leaned into him to meet his lips. "Take out my bike. I need to work on it."

"What, so you're a mechanic now? It's brand new—nothing wrong with it."

She hopped out of the van and closed the door, pausing at the window. "I can improve it. It is... 'kinda' slow."

Jagg snorted in amusement. "C'mon." He got out to open the rear doors and pull down the ramp. "That top speed not good enough for you?"

"I may need more," she said as he got in and released her motorcycle from the clamps.

"Riight." He rolled the bike out to her and crossed his arms as she pushed the bike into the shade of the solitary tree. "S'pose you plan to... modify the needle jets to boost the fuel mix? You've gotta be careful about that, or you'll be wearing out the engine in no time quick. And you gonna need tools," he added and reached into the van.

"No."

No? Puzzled, Jagg watched her inspecting the Kawasaki. "Then what the hell you think you gonna do—out here with no parts?"

"It will take a while. I will be fine here," she responded without turning.

Jagg looked down the road at the bleached Shell sign, frowning. "I don't think leaving you alone out here is such a good idea. I'm gonna wait till TJ's back."

Lora did not hear him. Her I.A. sinnesband had already launched Genesis Nanites on her direction. They utilized the environment to multiply into sufficient numbers and surrounded the bike. Now the intrinsic computer intelligence communicated its assessment: her machine contained enough raw material to build a flowrider—a flyer like what she was used to riding in her world.

—Nay. Maintain outer appearance and function. Keep it rolling but make it faster and more efficient. She was not sure how to achieve that but she knew the intrinsic intelligence would be, based on the blueprints it generated from all previously existing engines.

Lora tilted her head as she contemplated the faint outlines appearing before her mind's vision. The principles her sinnesband suggested were simple enough. The main modification was the use of water in place of gasoline. Powered by the battery and generator, a hydrolizer in the tank would split the water into hydrogen and oxygen. They, with their opposite charges, would enter the combustion chamber from opposite poles, mix and ignite to power the engine, then exit as water vapor.

She nodded. This alternative produced more powerful energy for less. With a tank of water lasting at least thrice as long as the same volume of gasoline, it had the added bonus of being 100 percent environmentally friendly.

—Execute hydrogen combustion conversion. She removed the cover of the fuel tank and backed off to watch the smoke-like swarm gather into arms and enter the bike via the tank, air vents, and the two exhaust pipes.

"You gonna get the gas contaminated if you leave it open like that." Jagg stepped to her side and did a double-take. "Whoa... what the fuck is that?"

"I will modify the engine," she responded pensively, "reinforce it, and... reduce overall weight to reinforce chassis, suspension, and wheels... and upgrade the oil. I will be able to go over 470 kilometers per hour. That is... over 290 miles."

"Huh." He shook his head in fascination. "S'pose it's one of those things that thing around your neck can do."

Lora glanced at him, amused.

"The wind's like a wall at those speeds. One slip and you're dead."

"I will be aerodynamically protected."

"Riight... S'pose that's another one of those things that thing can do."

"I will need to fill the tank with water now."

Jagg's brows shot up. "Water, huh? Gonna need to fill another container." He looked up at the sound of an approaching bike. "Okay, well, TJ's coming. Let's keep this upgrade thing quiet—got me? I'm gonna top-up."

∞

Happy to have been able to serve her Queen, Artemae skipped past Danny to the group of uniformed men Mickmi was talking to. Ignoring everybody else, she met Mickmi's gaze and connected with her implant. The electromagnetic activity in Mickmi's brain flitted in Artemae's awareness with multiple thoughts.

Her connection to Mickmi was continuous so she could briefly check her organs for any abnormality. Everything was working properly. Her indirect connection to Danny told her, his organs, too, were reaching their optimum, so Mickmi's concern related to something else.

Speaking aloud for the benefit of the humans here, she asked, "Everything's fine?"

—Please, try to not shock people more than absolutely necessary. Mickmi's thoughts were carefully delineated, unlike when she was thinking to herself. We are not here to create more myths or rumors.

Artemae knew she was referring to the episode at the command center. There was no point in trying to justify herself—their connection was two-way. Mickmi could see and hear everything Artemae did.

—I'll be more cautious, she replied via her link as Mickmi spoke.

"We need to train the volunteers in the use of the flight suits for this mission. Would you bring six from the vessels, please?" —And no more disappearance acts. Walk away like an ordinary person. Only when nobody sees you, you can teleport."

Artemae dipped her head. —Yes, Mother!

Mickmi gave her a long look before returning her attention to the pilots.

Artemae headed to a corridor at the back of the hangar and found a broom closet to hide in. For the third time in her short life, she fired up the Power Nanites in her core to activate her internal teleport module. It took only a few milliseconds to pass the required 100-megawatt mark for her to disassemble into the module. In the next instant, she materialized next to a dumpster at the back of a cinderblock building, a fraction of a degree west of the coordinates she'd saved in her memory banks. She scanned her surroundings. There was nobody in sight so she walked around to the front where an eight-wheel trailer and a car stood unoccupied.

With the most nonchalant air she could muster, she opened the glass door to the familiar jangle and entered, looking around. Nothing had changed since her Queen came here three days ago, except for a woman in checkered shirt at the counter next to Tiger's Milk stand. Artemae paused as she recognized the orange-striped snack and mentally scheduled a reminder to pick some up on her way out.

"Your change, ma'am." The cashier counted out paper and coins on the counter.

Money. She would need some of that to fit in here. Her multimode video snapshot was sufficiently detailed to generate 3D blueprints for the five dollar bill and coins. She continued walking through the mini mart as her pocket filled with what she hoped was sufficient money for her plan—or she would have to make some more.

A burly man got up and grabbed a paper bag from a small table and lifted his brimmed hat as she approached.

"'Morning, ma'am. Enjoy your day."

Artemae nodded casually in return, smiled, and headed straight for her destination—the booth her Queen had occupied. As she waited, she surveyed the diner area. A salt-and-pepper dispenser sat before her on the lightly scratched formica surface. The all-in-one seat of red faux leather was embossed with little griffins. She was inspecting a picture of a log cabin in a maize field above the center seat when the waitress came.

"Good morning, miss. Welcome to Del Pueblo. How can I help you today?"

This wasn't the same woman as last time—this one was younger. Artemae studied the short skirt and two-inch heels with interest. "I'm not sure. I have a friend on duty. He's been working all night and can't leave so I decided to bring him lunch. But I don't know what he likes."

"Oh, I see. Must be a good friend. Well, don't you worry, honey, I've got you covered. Just wait a five and I'll bring you what you need. And what about you? Breakfast?"

Artemae hesitated for a microsecond. "Can you give me two of the same food? I intend for us to eat together while we talk. I hope I'm not giving you too much work."

"Not at all. It's great to see a girl who's not afraid to show initiative for a change. Sometimes waiting for a man to do something can be really frustrating."

Artemae smiled but didn't have a clue what the waitress was talking about so she archived the conversation for future analysis. "Yes. So two lunches, thank you."

"Coming right up."

— ∞ —

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