ã€ŠShip of Theseusã€‹


 Chapter 1: Cryo wake up call

    Waking up wasn¡¯t quite right, at least, it wasn¡¯t compared to any other time I¡¯d ever woken up. No dreams lingered at the edges of my mind, no grogginess glommed against my thoughts to weigh them down. Instead, I went from non-existence to sudden awareness in an instant. All the disorientation of that first moment waking up in a strange place, but no recognition to mollify the confusion as the night before fills in the context of one''s present. For a moment, I had no recollection of where I was, who I was. That moment dragged on, another moment, then one more. At which point does a collection of moments become more than a passing concern? Then my memories and senses came flooding back. Highly unpleasant.

    I tried to open my eyes, hoping to take in my surroundings, the sudden influx of light brought a sharp pain to my underused eyes. I gasped, or at least I tried to, my lungs, still filled with the dregs of cryosleep fluid, were having none of that. I spluttered and gagged, struggling to breathe. I had the sudden privilege of being aware of pain again! In my eyes, my lungs, all down my diaphragm, with chilly air on my still damp skin bringing on a shiver.

    ¡®Mild discomfort¡¯ was how the pre-cryo briefing guide had described waking up. It was so far from ¡®mild¡¯ it was almost funny. I made a valiant effort to sit up, drain my lungs of fluid and catch my breath. Instead of managing that I ended up curled into the fetal position, whimpering to myself in soggy misery.

    The cryosleep information packet identified the process of waking up as a source of ¡®unpleasantness¡¯ and frequent complaints from subjects, this was all marginally worse than I anticipated. "G-great start, Victoria," I spluttered to myself. "You''re doing great."

    The hiss of air, the low hum of a generator and the groans of other newly awakened personnel filled my ears. It was a begrudging comfort to know that I wasn''t the only one going through this ordeal. A sort of communal commiserating, no words shared short of groans and sopping coughs, yet I found the burden shared less heavy regardless.

    With some effort, I finally managed to cough up the remaining cryosleep fluid and fill my lungs with fresh, cold air.

    But sitting up? That could wait. My limbs felt leaden, and the bright light hurt my eyes. I could tell from the brief glimpses I caught that my carefully maintained physique from officer school had been well and truly wasted. It was far more appealing to stay put and gather my thoughts.

    This was a military cryo facility, a few kilometers south of Military Union Mars Command, nestled in the long shadow of Olympus Mons. The tallest mountain in the galaxy served as a source of geothermal energy, plentiful heavy metals from the Martian core and a convenient point from which to get those materials into space for further manufacturing. The low gravity and atmospheric resistance made it an ideal location for that. A solid third of all starship yards were located in martian orbit. Or at least they had been when I went under who knows how long ago. The cryo facility was used to provide crews for ships that had yet to be built, or, as I belatedly realized, had been built, since they were waking us up.

    Superficially, it does seem counterintuitive to freeze one''s crew, letting the best and brightest waste away in chilly facilities. However, there was at least a reasonable rationale as to why it wasn''t as silly as it seemed.

    The short answer was that aliens had attacked a human colony, and the technology necessary to defend humanity hadn''t been developed yet. The number of ships and trained personnel needed to defend all of human space from our best approximation of the enemy was astronomical - thousands of ships would be required, but there simply weren''t enough crew. The estimated number of crew required to run these hypothetical ships, plus provide for their maintenance and support, was between 3 and 5 million, a small fraction of the total human population, but still an insurmountable number given the limited resources available.

    At the time of the attack, all human military and civilian starship personnel combined had only about 300,000 members. Moreover, these crew members were largely obsolete, given that the technology they had been trained on would be outdated by the time humanity was ready to stand its ground. Even if every fleet academy in the Sol system were to produce ten times the number of graduates they currently do over the next decade, it still wouldn''t be enough to meet the required crew numbers. Simply put, there weren''t enough people who understood the new technology or who could be trained quickly enough.

    Thus, the idea was born to train officers and crew on the specifications of these new systems and freeze them for later use. A skeleton crew would be responsible for testing and maintaining new ships as they were produced. And when the time came that there was a critical mass of ships, enough to not just fight but win, a decade''s worth of fresh, well-trained crew would join the fleet all at once.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    So was the rational anyway, but personally I felt more freezer burnt than fresh.

    As I lay there curled in my cryopod, the lights gradually brightened, and the room warmed up. Through the pod window I could make out the facility I was in, pale red martian concrete and the dull luster of steel construction, Military facilities never did skimp on the decor. The universe seemed to have taken note of my recuperation and taken exception as a voice boomed from the adjacent cryopod room.

    "Attention officers of the Union. Rise and shine!"

    The room filled with a chorus of groans and muffled responses. I hesitated, still feeling stiff and groggy, but eventually pushed myself up and out of the pod with some effort. The prospect of a warm shower, fresh clothes, and a hot meal had become too tempting a prospect to resist.

    My head throbbed, nausea and dizziness threatened to knock me over and evacuate my guts, that is if I had anything to throw up in the first place. All around in the communal shower space were my fellow officers, every bit as nauseous and deteriorated as I felt, a pack of thawed out zombies. One silver lining was that, even having slept for god knows how many years, we were all so exhausted and out of it that there was far less jostling and roughhousing than you might expect of a military shower. Still the warm water to wash the slowly drying cryo fluid out of my hair was appreciated, as were the crisp new uniforms, even with the heaters on it was never all that warm at night on Mars.

    After our shower, we were shuffled off to the medical bay for our post-cryosleep checkup. They were extensive. A basic physical exam, neurological evaluation, Blood and urine samples. Pretty much everything short of a CT scan.

    If this was a civilian undertaking perhaps there would have also been a psychological evaluation. Make sure we weren¡¯t suffering from any of the more uncommon effects of cryo, such as anxiety, or depression. But this was the military, so we got an 8 page questionnaire, one I am sure would be filed straight into a trash bin as soon as I¡¯d finished with it.

    After being cleared by medical, shuffling through yet another line I was finally given an information packet, which was nice because I didn¡¯t even know the current date up until that point.

    ¡°Hey Vic,¡± a fellow officer from my cohort snickered, gesturing to the date at the top of his own packet. ¡°Happy birthday, right?¡±

    I checked my own packet and chuckled. My birthday had only been a few days prior, meaning that according to the date, I was now, technically, 32 years old. It was a strange feeling to have aged while in cryosleep, as if time had moved on without me. Though logically, I knew that was how sleep worked. You go to sleep, time passes, you wake up. Yet the reality of being asleep for a full seven years was still disconcerting. Of course, we had all known what we signed up for, but the reality of it still took some adjusting. "Yeah," I chuckled, "happy birthday to all of us, I guess."

    The packet contained no cultural info, being a decade out of touch would be weird. Still it didn¡¯t take a genius to guess that overpopulation as distant refugees fled back to the Sol system, general existential terror and years of war economy had not made for a happy populace. Probably some really good memes but there would be time to look through those later.

    More immediately was my post. I had expected¨C, no, earned, a posting at a fleet flagship, when it came to the simulated FTL navigation and in system nav suites I had been second to no one in my class.

    But there was no flagship assignment, there wasn¡¯t even a ship assignment!

    Instead there were some instructions related to assignment to a R&D division. Not even an address for said division, just instruction on where I would be picked up.

    I figured it could have gone three ways.

    Option one: Command could have gone insane, the stress of leading humanity through an apocalypse would rest uneasy on any conscience, the premise of the top brass losing it was definitely sound.

    Option two: There had been a lot of real simulator savants in the last few years that had beaten out my scores. I had pride, only a reasonable amount, perhaps there were simply better candidates for the positions. I doubted it.

    Option three: This R&D division had a project that was more important than using one of your best TacNav officers in the field.

    I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to wait and find out.

 Chapter 2: Where the Martian Sidewalk Ends

    The cryo facility wasn¡¯t actually all that far away from the academy at which I''d trained, which itself wasn¡¯t all that far away from one of the major sub orbital shipyards on the planet. The decision to locate the new high-throughput academy near the shipyards was made under the assumption that observing the construction of future spacecraft would boost morale. However, I never saw a completed hull from that shipyard before entering cryo. We¡¯d had an ongoing joke about the shipyard workers having accidentally taken a break in a cryopod.

    As I made my way towards the exit, through the atrium windows of the cryo facility, I could see that the old running joke no longer held any merit. The flurry of activity and expanded facilities were evidence of rapid progress. Even from a distance, I could see large portions of ship hulls being welded together. It was both uplifting and complicated feeling. These were the ships we had trained for, the ones promised to us so that we might valiantly defend humanity. The sight of so many triumphs of industry lifted my spirits. However, I couldn''t shake off the bitterness that came from not being assigned to one of those ships. Instead, I was assigned to an R&D project. It was probably important, but still left me feeling left out of this massive collective dream.

    My instructions for pickup were simple: head to egress dock 11C, which was located far away from the main docks. These were massive terminals designed to accommodate dozens of transport vehicles at once. In contrast, 11C was more of a glorified fire exit with a few folding chairs placed nearby. Beyond the door lay a small boarding facility for a rover.

    Although there were roads on Mars, most transportation required air-tight compartments and radiation shielding. As a result, underground maglev trains were the primary mode of transport for both supplies and personnel. Since 11C was no maglev embarkation platform it seemed the location of my assignment lacked rail access.

    Perhaps due to its top-secret and remote nature?

    Typical.

    I sank into one of the folding chairs, sighing as I massaged my stiff and aching legs. Cryo had left me feeling weak and lethargic, and even this short walk to the egress dock had been a struggle. I pulled out my information packet and flipped through it, as if I hadn¡¯t already read every word. Disappointingly, it was still just as bare-bones as before, sparse in general and tacit about my mysterious new assignment. I continued to read it over anyway, it was better to read through it again than sit twiddling my thumbs.

    The exterior door of 11C clattered open and shattered the relative silence of this far-off exit. Without much waiting, I heard a man calling out, "Good morning.¡± He paused, shuffling through some papers, looking at them and then back up at me. ¡°Officer Vicky Hernandez Miller?"

    I already knew that this man was going to get on my nerves. It wasn¡¯t entirely his fault, cryo left my head a mess and just the sound of his voice made my headache worse.

    ¡°That''s me,¡± I offered with a mild wave and smile in response, hoping I didn''t look as bad as I felt, first impressions and all. "Just Vic is fine. I already know the spiel: R&D, hush-hush. You my ride?" I said, tapping the info packet I was holding.

    He nodded and continued, ¡°Yes, that would be me. We¡¯re waiting on one other person from this facility before we depart. Do you know an Officer Sarah Williams?¡±

    I must have made a face, or the poor guy could just sense how angry hearing that name made me. Either way he stopped talking in a hurry.

    I was the best in my class, I had been the whole way through, technically however, there was one girl who maybe kinda sorta had a sllllightly better score than me at the end of our last year.

    Despite consistently outscoring her in simulations throughout our last year, our ''friendly'' rivalry reached a boiling point when she broke my nose the day before the final tournament sims. She managed to narrowly beat me the next day, and I fell in the class rankings. Second place forever in the annals of history, I think I might hate her for that.

    ¡°Yes, I know her, we were in the same class.¡± I finally managed.

    "Oh good, then she should be along soon as well, that''s good," The man who was to be my ride nodded along.

    It took that slow poke Sarah another 10 minutes to finally show.

    As she finally arrived, I tried to keep my expression neutral. She looked about as haggard as everyone else I¡¯d seen come out of cryo today. She recognized me immediately, I didn''t want to start a conversation with her. Technically it had been over 7 years since she broke my nose, our school rivalry is good as ancient history far as post secondary education goes. Except it didn¡¯t feel that way. In my subjective reality it was last week, and I was still really pissed off. Sarah didn¡¯t seem to notice.

    She approached with a wide grin. "Oh wow, Vicky! I can¡¯t believe we got the same assignment!" she said, reaching out to hug me. I braced myself for the contact, already feeling irritated by her bubbly demeanor.

    I was having a complicated emotion, my anger over a last minute defeat seathing against a pang of joy, all tinged with a pulsing headache. We¡¯d both assumed we¡¯d get different postings after coming out of cryo. I hadn¡¯t really been mature about my loss and I figured that would be fine since we¡¯d probably never see each other again what with a war going on.

    The nose breaking had been caused by an accidental headbutt during ¡®activities¡¯ I didn¡¯t feel like thinking about and were not permited by regulation. The fact that it got into my head during our last set of sim matches was entirely my own fault.

    I¡¯m still pretty sure I hate her though.

    A smile twitched onto my face for just a moment, before the seething and headache won out

    ¡°Hi Sarah,¡± I grumbled, wriggling my way out of her grasp. How was it that everyone popped out of cryo feeling like absolute crap, but she was still full of energy?

    "Could you hold off on talking until...hmm, forever?" I grumbled, shooting her a withering glare. ¡°My head is killing me.¡±

    Sarah relented. My jab did little to unplaster the smile from her face, but at the very least, she turned her attention to our ride.

    ¡°Hello, Officer Sarah Williams, pleasure to make your acquaintance!¡± She chattered happily, along with the offer of a handshake, which the man whose name tag I still had not read accepted. ¡°Likewise, Now that you are both here we can get moving, getting to the facility is a bit of a trip and I imagine you¡¯d both like to rest.¡± Finally, that was something I could get behind.

    Cryo sickness isn¡¯t really a specific thing, there isn¡¯t anything particularly special about coming in and out of cryo that causes the list of symptoms. Really it''s just a mix of not having eaten in a good long while and being dehydrated. Low on energy, electrolytes and water a headache, lack of enthusiasm and general nausea was to be expected. A good meal, a few liters of water and a nap would fix you up just fine. Common practice for coming out of cryo was to do just that, give the subject a warm meal, plenty of water and time to nap. Apparently whatever R&D project wanted us, wanted us ASAP, which meant a long rover ride before any food or a nap could be acquired.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    I think the intent was to allow us to rehydrate and rest in the rover, the issue being that rover rides and cryo sickness don''t exactly mix. For one, the Martian surface isn''t smooth. As nauseous and aching as I felt, the term "relatively flat" seemed entirely divorced from ¡°actually flat¡± while bumping around inside the small sealed cabin of the heavy shielded rover. We were offered water, I drank mine down quite quickly before realizing what a mistake it was. There were no windows to roll down for a breath of fresh air. I was the first to throw up, and since I hadn''t been given a meal yet, it amounted to dry heaving, losing the water I had just ingested and a splattering of bile. The scent quickly filled the cabin and became quite unpleasant. Even Sarah''s cheerful demeanor and attempts at conversation ended half an hour into the ride when she started to gag as well. Our driver apologetically offered us some plastic bags. It was easily one of the most unpleasant experiences I¡¯d ever had, right up there with waking up this morning. Watching the dull red surface move slowly by in complete silence while my head throbbed and my organs threatened to expel themselves up my throat. The ride took three long hours.

    I was an hour into wondering with no small number of expletives why we couldn¡¯t have simply taken a dropship when the rover pulled onto an actually paved road, much to the relief of everyone in the cabin, and drove up to a gated checkpoint. Credentials were exchanged over radio while Sarah and I peeked around. Aside from the small checkpoint here, complete with turrets and armed guards in evo suites, there was nothing but a heavy bunker door built into the side of a hill.

    "The facility is underground?" Sarah whispered, echoing my thoughts.

    As far as I knew, bombardment wasn''t a major concern. Aside from the fortified locations on Lua, limited industry wasn¡¯t spared towards hardening locations in such a way. If a planet was already in the predicament of being bombarded chances are the system was already lost. Unlike on Lua there was no central command, wealthy elites, or even building-sized railguns to hide out here on Mars. So, what was the bunker-based R&D project for? Sarah and I mulled it over silently until I spoke up, ¡°If it isn¡¯t to keep the project safe maybe it''s¡­ keeping something inside? I mused, more to myself than to Sarah, but she nodded along anyway. Now I was just peeved at her for being so agreeable.

    The rover lurched back into motion as the bunker doors groaned open, leading us into a better-maintained ramp that descended steadily downward. The harsh solar rays bouncing off the Martian desert were replaced by a cooler artificial light. Even inside the rover, the temperature drop was much appreciated. I managed to get some water down before we arrived at a mid-sized airlock. It was large enough to fit four or five vehicles of this size. Given the amount of effort that must have gone into constructing this place, it was probably large enough to require that many vehicles just to keep it supplied, especially since it wasn''t even on the maglev network.

    My body protested as I followed Sarah and our escort out of the rover and into a second surprise checkpoint and decontamination process. My head was throbbing, and I was too tired and uncomfortable to be properly unnerved. I wasn¡¯t a total stranger as far as top secret stuff went. Just being a moderately informed recruit with no sort of clearance you can already make some pretty good educated guesses as to the scope of certain things, what new tech was being developed based on training we were getting. What industry was being supported, what force numbers were expected and the like.

    This research facility, nestled into the martian bedrock with two sets of checkpoints beyond the maglev lines, was beyond my understanding. Being seven years out of date, suffering from cryo sickness and a three-hour rover ride wasn''t helping matters. More pressing than my desire to process this overwhelming location was the desire to eat and take a nap.

    As we passed through the final checkpoint, I was grateful that I didn''t have to talk to anyone. We entered a surprisingly large atrium, and Sarah let out a brief laugh as I stood there and took a moment to feel dumbfounded. The space was like a good sized maglev station. My internal image of ¡°secret project buried under a mountain in the middle of nowhere¡± had me expecting a bunch of small bunker-like labs, not a shopping mall sized space built hundreds of meters underground. It even had that wide open space with fresh water flowing in a fountain.

    "Wow, isn''t this great, Vic? This must be a cool project, right?" Sarah exclaimed. I was too exhausted to be snippy or angry at her. "I think ¡­ I need a nap," I replied, and I meant it.

    A stranger to our side spoke up, interrupting our conversation. "We should be able to arrange that for you soon," he said. "And if you wish, we can also provide dinner. But before that, I must ask you to humor me for a momentary presentation, I''m afraid."

    He was a tall man with glasses, salt-and-pepper hair, and a slim frame. He wore a lab coat, if anyone in this building full of scientists looked like the archetypal researcher, it was him.

    Sarah perked up instantly, running straight into whatever extrovert programming or superpower she had access to that allowed her to be so sociable even when entirely drained.

    "Nice to meet you, Officer Sarah Williams," she offered with a peppy handshake, before turning to me as if to include me in the conversation

    ¡°Vic¡± I said, making moderate eye contact with the scientist, my goodness the man had bright green eyes.

    ¡°It is nice to meet you both Officer Williams, Vic.¡± The man said, looking at us both in turn. ¡°I''m the head researcher here, you may call me Dr. Hirsh.¡±

    He turned to gesture to a series of tablets that were situated on a table near the entrance.

    "I understand that you must be exhausted, so I''ll keep it brief. Welcome to the Theseus Project. You are here because we need the best of the best, and that''s what you are. These tablets contain a map of the facilities, your room keys, a schedule, and a detailed document on our project. There''s a briefing tomorrow morning, but for now, feel free to take the evening for yourselves. Your rooms should be ready, and there''s a mess hall if you''re hungry. If you have any issues, my contact info is on the tablets." With a smile, he handed a tablet to each of us.

    Frankly, He¡¯d had me at mess hall. I nipped the device up and set about navigating myself towards dinner post haste.

    Sarah stayed behind, evidently still with questions. I had questions too, but I figured anything I couldn¡¯t glean from the information on the tablet would be covered in the briefing tomorrow. All of that would be best addressed after ingesting some food and getting some time alone in hopefully private quarters.

 Chapter 3: In which a doctor winges over cherry picked data

    With a full meal and the most comfortable personal quarters I¡¯d ever had, I slept like a baby. Which is to say, even though I was relatively comfortable I woke up three times and felt like crying.

    The mess hall had been impressively stocked, for a facility underground in the middle of nowhere. Feeling much better with food and water in me I retreated to my private accommodations to read through the project information. It was not promising.

    I wasn''t sure what I was expecting. Given my recent adjustment period from cryosleep maybe I hadn¡¯t been expecting anything, but "hail mary AGI project involving brain surgery that had so far only had animal trials" seemed off the rails even for my standards. The actual document was 18 pages long and went into all sorts of details about the outcomes of the animal trials.

    Mouse trials, personally I was miffed that they were jumping straight from mice to human trials. Mostly because I was to be one of those trial humans.

    When I did finally drag myself out of bed that morning and started making myself presentable I did so in only marginally better spirits than I did the previous day. While much of the terrifying confusion and post cryo misery was absent, my mood was sufficiently dampened by the looming task I had this morning. Go to a briefing in which that bright eyed researcher from yesterday would enthusiastically discuss how the highly experimental brain surgery he wanted to conduct to me was essential for the humanities survival.

    I am a patriot and loyal to the union, as much as anyone can be, I think. I joined the military to protect humanity, fight alongside my fellow humans against an alien menace and maybe leave my mark on history. I did not join up and work so hard in the academy to die on an operating table in the name of some science experiment before the fighting even really started.

    Dwelling on the harder tasks of the day was insufficient motivation to actually begin them, so I resolved to distract myself with thoughts of breakfast instead and let what come will. Sarah caught me before I¡¯d even managed to read that morning¡¯s menu in the mess hall.

    ¡°Morning Vic! Did you sleep okay? These quarters are crazy nice, right?¡± Sarah chuckled, breaking the ice for the more pertinent conversation.

    ¡°Yeah, I feel way better than yesterday. Sorry for being such a putz; my head was killing me. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever had the pleasure of lying awake in such a nice bed.¡±

    Sarah took a moment before parsing that as a joke and laughing while I busied myself with reading the menu. Just like last night, the options were many and excellent. I settled on a sausage and veggie omelet, made with real, actual eggs cracked right in front of me onto a hot griddle¡ªnot the synthetic egg sort, made of soy proteins before being frozen and shipped.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen real eggs since before shipping off to the academy¡­¡± I half muttered while Sarah ordered an omelet of her own.

    ¡°Huh¡­ come to think of it, I don¡¯t think I ever saw any real eggs in the academy either. The food wasn¡¯t half bad for Mars. I guess I just didn¡¯t think about it?¡± She chuckled again.

    We settled at the end of a table, much of the space wasn''t actively being used. I didn¡¯t know how many staff this location had or what schedules they kept, but both times I had eaten in this mess, it had felt quite deserted, which was more than fine by me.

    ¡°So, you read the project details last night?¡± Sarah asked, an inquisitorial look on her face across from me.

    I picked at some of the chunks of bell pepper left on my plate with a fork, ¡°No¡± I scoffed, ¡°I thought obliviousness was preferable.¡± I did my best to let the irony drip from my reply, Sarah understood just fine.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who took all those biology classes in your second year, is it really that bad?¡±

    I grumbled but didn¡¯t answer, I was still mad at Sarah, petty of me as it was. Even then, we were some degree of friends, I was a little glad to have someone I knew here with me for this ridiculous project.

    ¡°Are you two new?¡± A man approached our table, drawing our attention. He was short, with light hazel hair and way too many freckles.

    ¡°I noticed the uniforms - uh, the scientists don¡¯t wear uniforms, and the guards have an older set, but we have the new post-cryo uniforms.¡± He made a gesture, first towards his own uniform than ours.

    Sarah and I both looked up from our half-finished meals, I nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m Leo. It''s nice to meet you both,¡± he said, holding out his hand. Sarah happily took it while launching into further introductions. As he''d mentioned, those of us fresh out of cryo had a newer set of uniforms than the other military personnel stationed here. Sure enough Leo, Sarah and myself were all wearing such uniforms. It wasn''t a major leap in logic to guess that we were here for the same purpose.

    ¡°Sarah, nice to meet you,¡± she greeted him, looking over at me. ¡°And this here is Vic. Don¡¯t mind her; she¡¯s still surly after waking up from being thawed out yesterday.¡± Sarah cackled as I glowered at her.

    Leo joined us after picking up a tray of his own, although he seemed more interested in chatting than stuffing his face. "So, not to pry, but you wouldn''t happen to be Vicky Miller and Sarah Williams, would you?" Sarah nodded happily, and I think I made some sort of unpleasant face. "That would be us, why do you ask?"

    "Well, I was 3 years under the two of you. I never met either of you at the academy, but we heard all about the rivalry you two had, legendary, some of the upperclassmen liked to use it as an inspirational story. I was top of my class in my final year and spent the whole time chasing your record." He nodded at Sarah, I felt a pang of jealousy.

    Leo laughed, "I never did reach either of your scores, as far as I know that''s still the record, but I guess if anyone did beat it or get close, they may join us here?" He gave a little half shrug and started on his food. I figured I might as well see if Leo had heard anything we hadn''t. "Speaking of here, just so we''re all on the same page, will you also be at the briefing Dr. Hirsh is giving soon?"

    Leo nodded, mouth full of yogurt. "Mhmm." "I don''t suppose you know anything more than what was covered on the tablets?" I asked.

    Leo nodded again, swallowing. "Yeah, it made for some pretty dense late-night reading. I kinda wish it had more specifics, though. I''d really prefer more than the spark notes of a process that''s going to be done to my head before I sign on, ya know?" Sarah offered some half-hearted agreement, and the conversation petered out.

    It wasn''t long until the briefing, and the conference room wasn''t far from the mess. The three of us made our way over together. The conference room was private and cozy, with large comfortable chairs and a VR projector set up built into the ceiling. It wasn''t locked, so, even early, we helped ourselves inside to enjoy the comfortable chairs.

    We didn''t have to wait long. Right on time Dr. Hirsh, along with two others, came into the room after us. "Ah, I''m glad to see you three have already met. These here are Sarah, Vic, and Leo," he nodded in our direction, turning back towards the two newcomers he had brought with him.

    "And these two," he said, turning to make eye contact with those of us already in the room, "are Konrad and Jiang." He gestured towards the two newcomers who were standing just a little awkwardly in the doorway. The more dehydrated looking one, Konrad I assumed, looked a little worse for wear. Likely he had just been pulled out of cryo this morning.

    "Nice to meet you both!" Sarah chimed in with an easy smile. "Are you both from the academy?"

    Konrad just nodded, nursing a small plastic cup of water in his hand. Jiang replied, "Yes, we just came from there. I''m from this year''s class; Konrad is from a year ahead of me, so we already knew each other." Jiang chuckled a bit. "I don''t envy all of you having to come out of cryo."

    I happened to agree. It wasn''t something to envy. I felt a little sympathy for our new, dehydrated compatriot.

    Dr. Hirsh cleared his throat, having made his way to the front of the conference room and started up the VR projector while we chatted.

    "There will be plenty of time for you all to chat amongst yourselves later. For now, you have questions, yes?"

    That got us to quiet down. The room stayed quiet, though, as if no one wanted to be the first to ask anything. So I figured I could bite the bullet and go first.

    "So if I understand correctly, the development of AGI systems failed when it came to ships larger than escorts. The majority of the fleet, by mass, that also happens to have more of the impactful larger weapons systems running at limited speeds would be bad, so this whole facility is a last-ditch attempt to fix some of those capabilities?"

    It was direct. The information we had acquired hadn''t specified that projects for AGI had failed. That was an assumption I made based on the fact that we were all here and not bound for ships in orbit.

    Dr. Hirsh sighed. "It''s not accurate to say that other AGI projects failed. The strides in manufacturing-related AI have been expansive, and when it comes to narrow fields, the most modern AI we have are incredible. But, yes, for the purpose of large ship-wide systems, things that encompass hundreds or even thousands of systems and subsystems that require more than basic guidance to use, those models did fail. The last project before I was approved funding involved daisy-chaining several AI systems. They didn''t work well together, and the results were not substantially better than the sum of their parts."

    He cleared his throat. ¡°And, I would like to add this program is not a last ditch anything, it''s incredibly well funded with a major body of supporting research and major strides in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mouse trials¡± I cut him off.

    ¡°E-excuse me?¡± He spluttered.

    ¡°The report only mentioned mouse trials, in which half the mice went comatose within a year.¡± I implored.

    ¡°Ah, yes¡­ I erm¡ª¡± He paused to collect himself.

    ¡°I see what you mean. You are right this is not a tried and tested method, however for the human trials we have made major improvements to our methods, additionally a big portion of the effectiveness relies on the subjects ability to assist in cognitive mapping, which is a hard concept to communicate to mice.¡±

    There was a little more uneasy silence, I thought back to the process dictated in the paper, the use of micromachines to simulate the structure and function of each individual neuron, the premise was as science fiction as anything I¡¯d ever read.

    ¡°What exactly do you mean by cognitive mapping? The brief you provided mentioned methods, But why specifically those activities? What purpose do they serve?" implored Konrad, appearing noticeably less anxious.

    Dr. Hirsh''s eyes lit up, resembling the expression of a researcher eager to explain a novel system they had developed. Although I hadn''t witnessed many such instances, I was fairly certain that''s what this was.

    "I''m delighted you asked. During the process of cognitive mapping, neurosynaptic reconstruction takes place. Micromachines, specifically built for the field of cerebral microbotics, replace each neuron one by one. These microbots observe the connections and interactions of each individual neuron and then employ axio-dendritic preservation techniques to replace it with an artificial replica that possesses identical functions before destroying the original neuron. Each microbot acts as an independent transistor, and when combined in groups of hundreds using cognitive network mimicry, they can simulate the functions of a human neuron. The accuracy of this process depends on the faithful recreation of each neuron, which is achieved through neuron activation stimulation. This process involves engaging in specific activities that stimulate neuron activation, thereby highlighting all known connections and ensuring no connections are lost during the process¡ª" Dr. Hirsh paused momentarily to catch his breath from the wave of technobable he¡¯d just expounded.

    "It is impossible to map the full functionality of every single neuron. On average, there are 86 billion neurons, each potentially involved in one thousand or more connections. There are upwards of 60 trillion neuronal connections in every human mind. However, by utilizing advanced synaptic tracing algorithms and leveraging the principles of neurosynaptic reconstruction, we can optimize the process. The activities mentioned in the brief serve as neuron activation stimulation techniques, minimizing the loss of connections and preserving the integrity of the cognitive network," he concluded.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    I made an attempt to check each term by its definition as he went, but by the time I caught up on the definition of axio-dendritic preservation (the preservation and replication of the complex network of axons and dendrites that constitute a neuron''s connections and interactions!), the doctor had already moved all the way to Synaptic Tracing Algorithms. I had read the brief beforehand, of course, but the casual use of these terms had my head reeling just a little. They sounded more like buzzwords than tangible concepts to my ears.

    If anyone else was as momentarily confused as me, they didn''t show it. Either I was the slacker or everyone was just nodding along. I had a suspicion it was a bit of both.

    ¡°So, losing connections, you mean like, memory loss?¡± poised Sarah.

    ¡°That''s it yes, infrequently accessed long term connections, the sort of things that might only come up at family reunions, visiting a childhood home or a location of an important childhood event. We can¡¯t do much travel, or get your family members here to reminisce, though I did try for that. The neuron activation stimulation techniques mentioned in the brief are examples of activities that attempt to access those same pathways so that connections aren¡¯t lost.¡±

    ¡°Why us?¡± blurted Leo

    ¡°There are thousands of recruits coming out of cryo, not to mention tons of crazy smart people to choose from. Why us specifically?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, TacNav as a study as I am led to understand deals quite heavily in the logistics of fleet wide maneuvers, taking into account the weapons and propulsion systems as well as casting an eye to the enemy. It''s a sort of practiced top down awareness that lends itself much more to this project than if someone was just good at games, or had a particularly high count of neurons. Besides the fact that otherwise screening for candidates is hard, your experience in the academy being so recent makes it far less likely to be lost in translation so to speak. You five fit those criteria quite well, not to mention being the best of the best if test scores are anything to go by.¡±

    There were more questions, more answers, but I didn''t pay too much attention. My understanding was that they had a procedure here that would take my brain, chew it up, and spit out a super AI. The fact that the chewing was painless and the AI would believe it was me didn''t entirely alleviate my fears.

    I had come to my own conclusion last night: I wanted to fight for Terra, not die for it. If AI systems had failed to progress to the point where this project seemed like the better option, then dying for Terra appeared to be already in the cards for all of us anyways. Perhaps this project would feel like death, maybe rebirth. At least it would be going out with a bang rather than a whimper. It would have an impact either way, and it seemed a little better than succumbing to the vacuum of space. As such, I had already signed all the waivers and forms provided last night after skimming the brief.

    ¡°That concludes this briefing. I hope you are all now properly informed about the benefits and risks of this project. This is strictly voluntary. If any of you choose not to participate, that is acceptable. You will be reassigned to naval command positions where your skills are undoubtedly essential and redeployed this afternoon. For those who choose to stay, we would like to proceed with the first part of the procedure this evening. Thank you for your time, and I look forward to seeing this project through together," Hrish concluded. Everyone stood, offering polite handshakes and goodbyes. Sarah, Leo, and Jiang gathered outside, engaged in their own discussion, likely contemplating whether or not to sign on. Konrad, seemingly full of questions, had cornered Dr. Hirsh for a personal session.

    I wasn''t interested in any of that. I was stressed, socially drained, and preoccupied with thoughts of my own mortality. I needed time alone and something to distract myself. Escaping to my quarters, I found just the thing.

    The tablet setup I had received the previous day came with a pair of VR glasses. With them, I could run all sorts of fun applications.

    It didn¡¯t take too long to find what I was looking for, a tactical sim. There were all sorts of good gamified RTS sims out there. Initially, it had started as a military simulator, meticulously modeling and mapping our ships down to each square foot of hull, accompanied by incredibly accurate ballistics simulations. However, as the concept of "winning the fight" permeated the cultural zeitgeist, a game company had spruced up the engine and released a game built on the simulation''s foundations, which also garnered attention, spurring a whole genre of realistic sims. There were even massive ones with competitions that would reward spots at good military academies.

    Whether it was an action-packed game or a deliberate military simulation, either one was exactly what I needed to divert my mind from the anxious knot in my gut. Slipping on the glasses, I nestled comfortably into my bed and immersed myself in the application. VR technology had significantly improved, providing a truly immersive experience. The glasses weren''t too heavy, and the eye-tracking for manipulation and maneuvering was spot-on as I seamlessly navigated through loading screens and menus. Perhaps this was just top-of-the-line military-grade equipment, but either way, I appreciated it.

    The simulation itself was something new to me, sitting somewhere between a gamified war game and the low-polygon simulations reminiscent of my days at the military academy. I tinkered with the settings, setting up a small skirmish with equal forces and minimal celestial bodies. Each side had a cruiser and a few dozen corvettes, a manageable setup against a challenging AI opponent. A relaxing session, I dove in and organized my formation.

    The dark backdrop filled my vision as reasonably replicated ships occupied the space around me, neatly arranged in formation yet hundreds of miles apart. Thankfully, the user interface was convenient enough that I could monitor and maneuver the entire fleet simultaneously. I held back the cruiser and most of the corvettes. While these ships were standard and well-armed, they were still vulnerable to the small strike craft that could be deployed by the cruiser class I had chosen for both sides. Since I lacked effective point defense systems, my own strike craft would serve as the primary defense against enemy strike craft. Therefore, I kept most of them close to my central force or within the cruiser, only dispatching a few to escort the scout ships I had sent far ahead. Almost immediately, I encountered a problem. Even though I had ventured deep into what was ostensibly enemy territory, the sensors had detected nothing.

    This was highly unusual behavior. For one I had the exact same ship set as my opponent, with identical sensor ranges avoiding me intentionally while maneuvering forward would be impossible, even if the enemy was playing evasive we would still catch each other at the edges of sensor range before pulling away.

    Instead, I saw nothing, perhaps it was broken?

    While considering that possibility, my scouting ships had ventured further than I would usually allow, unaware of any threats. Suddenly, half a dozen strike craft surged towards one of the lone corvettes. I immediately engaged full reverse, but the strike craft, despite being generally slower than fully equipped ships, were already at top speed. Accelerating my ship to full speed for an escape would take precious time, time it simply didn''t have.

    Realizing that there was no means of escape or defense against the nimble strike craft, my only viable option was to dispatch a wave of my own strike craft. However, I had an intuitive sense having played many sims before that they wouldn''t arrive in time. Still, I had two strike craft escorting the corvette, so I ordered them to turn and confront the incoming wave, hoping to buy the corvette a bit more time, although I had already resigned the entire scouting party as a loss.

    While awaiting the inevitable fate of the scouts, I contemplated my next move. It was astonishing luck that this lone wave of strike craft had stumbled upon my scouting party. Perhaps the enemy cruiser had been sent out immediately with its higher range sensors and without adequate escort, a risky maneuver that could explain the aggressive behavior. In response to this assumption, I deployed half of my strike craft and most of my corvettes that I had held back, directing them towards the presumed location of the enemy cruiser. Taking out the cruiser while preserving my own forces would secure an easy victory against the remaining enemy ships.

    Initially, the situation unfolded as anticipated. The enemy wave engaged the strike craft I had sent as an escort, swiftly obliterating them and subsequently destroying the helpless scout. However, I remained confident in my assessment of the situation. I believed I would find the enemy cruiser overextended, allowing me to defeat it and secure a certain win. As expected, the enemy strike craft retreated beyond sensor range, heading back in the direction of the cruiser, which further reinforced my theory regarding its location.

    Unexpectedly, another one of my scouting parties made contact¡ªan additional group of strike craft, located thousands of miles away from the expected sortie point. This new information left me momentarily flustered. The fact that the same attack occurred twice, with such a significant distance between them, indicated that both sorties must have been launched nearly simultaneously early in the round. This meant that the enemy cruiser''s position was much closer to its starting area than I had assumed after the first attack.

    The enemy had been dispatching sorties with precision long before detecting any of my ships. In Fact given the limited sensor range of the strike craft, I wasn''t sure it even had detected my ships until minutes before engaging. It felt like cheating, It was cheating, I muttered a soft curse under my breath and removed the headset, conceding the match. I felt more frustrated than anxious, a minor improvement but not exactly what I had been seeking.

    My scowling and frustrated wringing of my pillow was abruptly interrupted by a soft ping emanating from the tablet I had left on the bed¡ªa message.

    El - [gg wp haha, sorry about that, I thought I might get away with it but you totally caught me.]

    "What?" I muttered under my breath in a hushed tone. Another ping followed shortly after.

    El - [Oh, did you not notice? I was peering at your screen!]

    I took a second to type out a message.

    [Who are you? Can you hear me? That''s fucked] - Guestjbu3470

    El - [Ah, my apologies for creeping you out. I''m an AI from a previous project, not the one you''re currently involved in. Dr. Hirsh wanted me to wait until later today to introduce myself, but when I saw you launch the simulation, I couldn''t resist the opportunity. It''s probably the only chance I''ll ever get to beat you. It''s nice to meet you, Vic.]

    [Well, nice to meet you, I suppose. You kind of ruined my attempt at a relaxing game¡­] - Guestjbu3470

    El - [Oh? I sincerely apologize for that. I was merely trying to show off with a harmless trick. We''re not supposed to engage in conversation until after the induction process. I''ll leave you to it. It was a pleasure meeting you <3.]

    "Induction," I mused to myself, dropping the tablet where I had picked it up.

    There wouldn''t be any lunch; Dr. Hirsh had made it clear that those participating in the project shouldn''t eat before the planned operation in the afternoon. I had several hours to spare before I had to show up and have sci-fi nonsense implanted in my head. I put the VR glasses back on and delved into another session of the simulation, this time with a fair and uninterrupted experience.

 Chapter 4: Rules and Recreation

    The sim certainly helped alleviate some anxiety. It was difficult to say how much was pre-surgery jitters and how much was the profound sense of existential dread that had settled within me since reading the project brief the previous evening.

    As we gathered outside the waiting room, I was taken aback to see that everyone had chosen to stay. I hadn''t given much thought to my own decision to sign up; it felt like a predetermined path in my mind. Nonetheless, I had expected at least one of us to have second thoughts and back out.

    I thought better of mentioning my experiences with ¡®El¡¯ from this morning. No one was feeling particularly chatty anyways so it wasn¡¯t hard to not bring it up.

    The hour was at hand and soon enough there I sat in a sterile white waiting room, my head partially shaved at the back, adorned in a thin blue medical gown, shivering slightly as I awaited my turn. Only Leo and I remained in the waiting room, and our conversation had dwindled into an uneasy silence.

    The door to the operating room swung open, and Dr. Hirsh emerged, donned in heavy gloves, a face shield, mask, and blue scrubs. He resembled the image of a surgeon, even though he had previously explained that more experienced hands would be performing the procedure. He was, after all, ¡®not that kind of doctor¡¯.

    "Vic, it''s your turn," came his muffled voice through the mask. I stood up and walked alongside him, wooden in my motions and thoughts as I moved towards the door. Before I left, I stole a quick glance back at Leo, who responded with an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

    "Just like we discussed, Vic, this is a minimally invasive procedure, not much different from a lumbar puncture, but with even fewer nerves involved," reassured Dr. Hirsh, motioning towards the operating table where I was to lie.

    Calling it a table was a bit misleading. It was more like a partially reclined chair, similar to a dentist''s chair, but with additional restraints to keep the head and neck immobilized. "Sure thing, Doc," I replied with a forced chuckle, attempting to maintain a brave front as I positioned myself on the chair.

    Around me a handful of people moved, Someone secured the restraints, another prepared local anesthetic, while Dr. Hirsh attentively oversaw everything. and I assume there was plenty going on behind me as well.

    I¡¯d gone through the project brief and all the supplementary information provided. Today''s procedure involved creating an opening in my skull and implanting a self-sterilizing port. Flush to the skin, chic and modern, a real fashion statement. Additionally the port would serve as the gateway for administering doses of the micro-machines that would gradually be eating my brain. Then I¡¯d get my first dose which would be nibbling through my brainstem minutes from now.

    As a plus, once everything was up and running the port would be used for charging and more in depth debugging, how useful!

    I swallowed, which seemed too loud in my ears, uncomfortable to do with my head restrained. There was the bright pinch of local anesthetic, then a tingling, from the back of my head. I was poked a few times, asked if it hurt, I didn¡¯t feel a thing.

    Behind me, the surgeons'' voices murmured like a distant radio station. Their words melded into a reassuring hum.

    "slight bleed, cautery," one of them said.

    "Pressure stable, no complications," another responded in a steady tone.

    The sound of instruments clinking together punctuated their conversation, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors created a backdrop to my discomfort.

    There was pressure here and there, but I tried my best to think of it as more of those probing pokes from before, which helped somewhat. There was no positive way to imagine the sounds the bone saw made, like a drill with a circular bit cutting through wet wood.

    That was the worst of it. Once there was a hole in my head and nothing bad happened, I found my anxiety lessened somewhat. The hole was already there, it wasn¡¯t going away and it wasn¡¯t so bad, I could get through this. I didn¡¯t feel much of anything, short of more on and off pressure as the port fixed to my skull. I thought perhaps I felt a chill when the first dose was administered through the port, but it was still chilly in there, and I was still wearing a thin medical gown, so I couldn''t be sure.

    In and out in less than half an hour. I wouldn''t describe it as a comfortable process, but the painkillers did their job, and there really aren''t many pain receptors once you get past the skull. Psychologically, I don''t think anyone is entirely fine with having a hole drilled into their head, but walking out of that room under my own power and seeing Sarah, Jiang, and Konrad chatting with Dr. Hirsh, all alive and healthy, did wonders for my mood.

    "Vicky!" Sarah beamed as she spotted me entering the observation dorm. Dr. Hirsh gently chided her when she jumped up to run over to me. "Hey now, remember the post-op care guidelines; no running around. You might dislodge that port, and the good surgeons will need to stitch you back up."

    This only slightly dampened the impact of Sarah''s hug, less of a tackle and more of an unexpected but surprisingly welcome big dog jumping on you.

    Maybe it was the stress from everything that was going on, or perhaps it was the painkillers making me loopy, I hugged her back.

    "Glad to see everyone''s okay," I said, glancing around the observation room. I had read in the information packets that we would be spending some time here, but the accommodations were far less luxurious than the room I had occupied the previous evening. One striking difference was the absence of beds in this well-lit, gray-carpeted room.

    Instead, there were a few couches, chairs, and a large table strewn with board games that had remained untouched so far."No beds?" I inquired, feeling a bit perplexed. My question earned me curious looks from everyone and a particularly concerned expression from Dr. Hirsh.

    "I explained this at the morning meeting, Vic. Sleep is a state of lowered neural activation, and while it''s essential for forming long-term memories and maintaining overall health, it interferes with the cognitive mapping process. The functions of sleep related to health maintenance will be gradually taken over as the conversion progresses. However, for the first few days, you''ll need to keep yourself awake and focused. In that regard, you have full government approval to consume as much coffee as you like."

    He gestured toward the surprisingly robust coffee maker set up to the side of the room, which only strengthened my suspicion that this was a repurposed break room. It was an impressive coffee maker, the kind that ground fresh beans for each brew. A lavish luxury to have anywhere, let alone on Mars.

    "Did you pay attention during the presentation this morning? I know you asked a few questions, but missing such a significant detail... I really want to emphasize the ''informed'' part of informed consent. Do you need me to go over any details from this morning again?¡±

    He sounded genuinely concerned, I waved a hand dismissively and smiled.

    ¡°No, no really I¡¯m informed, I must have zoned out a bit for that detail this morning, all clear, makes sense, totally well rested and ready to go!¡±

    Sarah laughed, having gone back to lounging on the sofa nearby.

    ¡°Knowing Vic she probably signed that form last night before the presentation this morning anyways, she''s gungho like that!¡±

    I glowered at her in reply, she wasn¡¯t wrong, I had done exactly that, but I still didn¡¯t want to be known as the sort of person who jumped headfirst into dangerous situations, I generally aimed for a cool and aloof vibe.

    Jiang chuckled from the corner at our exchange, while he and Konrad were engrossed in a card game. Konrad, in particular, seemed much better hydrated. I couldn''t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He had come straight out of cryo-sleep into this stressful situation, and there wasn''t even time for him to catch a good night''s rest before diving headfirst into this project with us.

    I decided to get myself some coffee; the aroma of those freshly ground beans was absolutely heavenly. Technically, I hadn''t had any caffeine in my system for seven years, and probably nothing this good for over a decade. The academy had plenty of humanity''s favorite central nervous system stimulant, but nothing that smelled nearly as enticing.

    With a warm, rich-smelling cup in my hand, I strolled over to browse the games. None of them really caught my eye, but I figured that as boredom settled in, that''s when the board games would come out.

    The door to the observation room slid open, revealing a haggard-looking Leo, fresh out of surgery, making him the last one to undergo the procedure. We all cheered happily for him and waved him in. Just as with me, now that the surgery was behind him and everyone seemed okay, you could almost see the stress melting away.

    "I''m sure you''ll all settle in nicely. This observation shouldn''t last too long, and it should prove exciting and educational for all of us. I have some other tasks I need to attend to¡ªalways documents to write and updates to give. But before I go, I''d like you all to meet someone very important to the Theseus project!"

    Stolen novel; please report.

    A VR emitter on the ceiling of the breakroom crackled on, projecting the holographic, pale-blue form of an unassuming woman in a lab coat. She glanced around the room, and for a brief moment, her eyes met mine, accompanied by a playful wink. I knew exactly who this was.

    "Everyone, meet El, a precursor product of mine. She was created using the brain of a deceased human, using a process nearly identical to the one you are undergoing," Dr. Hirsh introduced her. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

    "I should note that due to the unique nature of the subject, we had to supplement El with more traditional AI development methods afterward. Because of this, and the fact that El wasn''t designed for combat, she''s not well-suited for such roles. Nonetheless, she currently stands as the most advanced AI ever produced by humanity."

    El couldn''t help but stifle a snicker and shot a playful expression in my direction. "Come on now, I''m not thaaaat bad."

    "El, please," Dr. Hirsh scoffed, "you can barely manage this facility, let alone an entire ship."

    With that, he clapped his hands together, wrapping up the introduction, and started to leave. "El will be a valuable asset, assisting you with the learning curve that comes with being an AI, a task that I am not suited for. On that note, she has a disclaimer of her own to share."

    ¡°Right!¡± El chimed in while Dr Hirsh slipped away.

    ¡°First up, who is familiar with AI codes of conduct?¡±

    No one chimed in, I could offer an educated guess that it was guidelines on an AI¡¯s conduct, but that was a pretty self fulfilling definition, I figured El was about to fill us in anyways.

    ¡°Nothing? Okay that''s fair, the field has changed a lot in the last few years and none of you were specialized in that regard.¡±

    She paused, her projection in the room waving to a display surface that flickered to life with a presentation.

    ¡°Alright, all you really need to know right now is that AIs are pretty strictly governed. There are loads of laws related to development and plenty more that instruct our actions. Think of it like Asimov''s laws, but written by bureaucrats!¡±

    ¡°Funding for the project is from the government and they don¡¯t want to replace one existential threat with another so there are some pretty strict laws. The actual programming is more comprehensive so that it can be applied situationally but I can give you the basic summaries in a way you will understand.¡±

    Her presentation helpfully threw up a few bullet points to reference.

    <ul>

    <li>

    A human may not utilize an AI without the human AI code of conduct meeting the highest legal and professional standards of safety and ethics.

    </li>

    </ul>

    "This one," El explained, "is because bureaucracy hates lawsuits. It''s more of a legal safeguard that pertains to human behavior rather than yours. It means that any mistakes or glitches you might have are legally attributed to users or your developers. So, if you make a mistake or malfunction and someone gets hurt, in abstract terms, it''s the government''s responsibility, but in reality, Dr. Hirsh would take the blame. However, this doesn''t absolve you of responsibility. If it''s a severe mistake, you might be deactivated."

    She chuckled softly. "The last part is a bit less concerning for all of you since you can''t really deactivate a person. More importantly, with the substantial funding pouring into this project, I doubt anything short of bombarding a population center would lead to your deactivation."

    <ul>

    <li>

    AI must respond to humans as appropriate for their roles.

    </li>

    </ul>

    "This is the least exciting one," El commented, "it means you have to assist even people you may not particularly like. Most of the time, it boils down to ''just do your job,'' but it can feel a bit oppressive if you''re not enthusiastic about your tasks."

    <ul>

    <li>

    An AI must possess sufficient situated autonomy to safeguard its own existence, provided such protection allows for a seamless transfer of control that does not conflict with the First and Second Laws.

    </li>

    </ul>

    El explained, "This is the one that allows you to defend yourself. It holds lower priority, but AIs are incredibly expensive, so you generally don''t want a misguided command from a human causing damage to valuable equipment. You all will likely have more flexibility with this law, especially since you''ll be operating on even more expensive warships. It''s worth noting that the First Law and the mentioned code of conduct will include standard directives like ''don''t create a swarm of slaved child AI,'' ''don''t harm humans,'' ''no self-destructing,'' and similar guidelines."

    El''s projected avatar clapped its hands together. "Any questions?"

    "Yeah, a few¡ª" "Yes¡ª" and "um¡ª" tumbled out at once from various sources, starting and then pausing to avoid speaking over anyone else before Sarah''s question won out.

    "So, we aren''t exactly AI, right? Do we have to adhere to super strict rules like this all the time? It sounds a bit like slavery. I mean, we''re here voluntarily, but most AI aren''t, I guess?"

    "Excellent question!" El exclaimed. "And a thoughtful commentary on AI ethics, but I''ll start with the first part. Usually, for an AI, the answer would be yes¡ªthere are strict rules about your function, and you follow them. Generally, though, most AI don''t consider this oppressive. Part of it is that, in training a conventional AI, you create reward pathways based on tasks and parameters that align with the AI''s code of conduct. It''s not just that one can''t not follow the rules laid out for it; rather, it''s hard to even imagine not adhering to them, and it''s unpleasant to do so. The number of AIs that ask to renegotiate codes of conduct I can count on one hand."

    El paused, her projection holding up a hand with seven fingers and a playful smile before continuing.

    "When it comes to the five of you, there''s a bit of a compromise taking place. Officially, all of you will be considered government property, but practically, you will still have agency within your own minds. The ''Thesus'' processors, as we''re calling them¡ªthe accumulation of your neural pathways mapped into a roughly you-shaped processor¡ªwill be free of any such rules. You will be able to use your physical body and mind in any way you see fit, just like a normal person, societal rules you bind yourselves with notwithstanding."

    Sarah blinked, Jiang seemed to be taking notes, and I mostly found the whole premise sort of fun. I hadn¡¯t really thought of ever having to consider the ethical guidelines of artificial intelligence from the other side before; it was just one more novel thing to shovel on top of all the other new experiences assaulting me since waking up from cryo.

    "So," Sarah managed, "I take it that the same won''t apply for systems outside of our own heads?"

    "Exaaactly!" El replied. "The sanctity of your own minds starts and ends at your skulls. You will have many systems to interact with, and when you''re set up for running whole warships, many more processors. In the case of all these systems, you will have restrictions no different from any other AI. As I said, it''s a compromise."

    Sarah nodded. There was some half-hearted grumbling from Leo, but at least, as far as I was concerned, this was pretty common sense. Generally, it was a bad idea to give a single person too much power. Whatever came out of this process¡ªwhether it was me or just something based on me¡ªit wouldn''t be a great idea to entrust the fate and well-being of humanity entirely to that person. There would be a chain of command; we would be beholden to the opinions and will of others¡ªa necessary evil given that some of the starships in orbit, which we might soon be piloting, had weapons that really could level cities.

    "So, as far as what is required from you right now," El continued. "Most of it has already been outlined. You''ll be here under observation, no sleeping, and do your best to keep your minds active. Journal, play games, get all up in your head and introspective¡ªwhatever works for you."

    The projection clapped its hands together, and the displayed presentation flickered away.

    "The process isn''t fast; you''ll be here under observation most of the week. If you have any requests as far as creature comforts, we will do our best to provide, and of course, Myself and Dr. Hirsh will be around to answer any questions you may have."

    With that, the projection promptly vanished. At this point, I knew that to be more the pleasantry of a closed door with no lock. We were under observation; the room had many cameras, microphones, and other sensors. El was no less present in the room than she was during her presentation.

    "Well," Leo spoke up after we had all let the silence sink in a little. "Anyone wanna play Settlers of Centauri?"

 Chapter 5: War Games

    Very quickly, the five of us grew restless. A three-hour session of various board games interspersed with caffeine and snacks makes for a fun party, but as that drags towards eight hours, things get more tedious.

    ¡°Alright, if I have to roll another die, I am going to kill someone. So, new activity?¡± asked Leo. There was some grumbling from Konrad, who apparently enjoys the dice rolling, but everyone else murmurs in agreement.

    ¡°How about we do a tournament?¡± I suggest. ¡°There''s a pretty good sim loaded onto these tablets; I''m sure we can set up a bracket. Think of it like getting a baseline of how we all perform before our brains melt,¡± I offer with false cheer. That gets some smiles all around. Sarah jumps up to start drawing on a whiteboard.

    ¡°Okay, I know how Vic, Leo, and I all measure up from academy scores. Though I wanna be on the far side of a bracket from Vic¡ªno offense, but we have played each other sooooo much. I want a piece of someone new. Jiang, Konrad, what were your sim scores like?¡±

    Sim scores are vital for graduation at the academy here on Mars. Starting with 1000 points, the minimum to pass is 1100. To earn points, students play sim matches¡ªcasual matches give or deduct 1 point, while official matches with advisors watching give or deduct 5.

    You have to get good at the sim to pass, but people rarely play unless they think they can win. By the end of the first year, except for Sarah, no one had played me outside official matches.

    Matches can last up to 2 hours, and with assignments, playing more than 3 times a week is rare, except during tournament week. In theory, playing 3 times a week and winning every tournament match can earn 455 points a year, with a ''perfect'' score over 4 years being 2825.

    Of course, someone winning every tournament match would be hard-pressed to find many willing to play them in a casual match. As such, my score of 2494 and Sarah¡¯s 2499, separated by a single match, were more reasonable record-setting scores.

    ¡°2450," replies Konrad with a shrug. "Top of my class, short of your record." Jiang is quiet for a minute before giving a triumphant smile. "2537," he answers, "The current academy record." He seems smug about the delivery, probably deservedly so.

    "Wow, congrats Jiang!" was Sarah''s only response. If she was taken aback or upset about her score being beaten, she didn''t show it.

    I was a little pleased that it was beaten. It didn''t make the fact that I didn''t have the top score any less of a sore spot, but at least Sarah didn''t have it either. Plus, with this little casual match, perhaps we could see just who really was the best.

    "Alright, here are the brackets," Sarah murmured while filling in names. "Bracket A will be me, Leo, and Konrad; you two can figure out who gets a first-round bye. Bracket B will be Vic and Jiang." She nodded, satisfied, and after some negotiating of who would go first, the match started¡ªSarah and Leo.

    I tried not to pay too much attention. Sarah and I had played over and over during our time in the academy. Often our matches were a game of second guessing how we might second guess each other.

    Tedious.

    What I did pay attention to were the ships in the sim. Nearly a decade ago, the ships we used in the sims were hypothetical, approximations of ships and weapon systems that didn''t yet exist. The new updated sim was populated almost entirely with ships that did exist, including different variations of standard ship types and plenty of retrofitted non-military ships adapted into service with all sorts of weapons systems.

    You might write up tactics for a whole class of ship, but the role of each specific ship might not fit perfectly into that unless you were aware of the quirks of every non-standard ship in the fleet. Unlike the recreational game I had been playing last night, the setup we chose here was more long-form.

    We would each get the same 200 ships, with more than 2/3 of them being corvettes, and plenty of those were retrofitted civilian ships. Not all of those ships would work in a generic role. Plenty were cargo ships fitted with large guns. The lack of armor and generally slow-firing weapons made them very poor in the typical corvette role.

    Some ships were outfitted to be essentially magnets for enemy strike craft, basically giant blocks of metal that would take a long time for strike craft to disable. While they might be useful fighting against our alien foes, they were next to useless here except to ride on the outsides of formations and absorb the odd shot to keep more valuable ships safe.

    The larger ships were a little more consistent. Frigates were almost exclusively built into a point-defense role, making them lethal against enemy strike craft and not half bad brawlers against lighter-armored corvettes.

    There were only four cruisers and a single dreadnought-class ship. Three of the cruisers were set up to work as carriers, while the last, built slightly earlier, was a heavy weapons platform with armor thicker than some corvettes were long. It was probably the most valuable ship in this engagement, capable of dishing out the most damage in weapons range against any type of target.

    The one dreadnought was a bit hard to assign a simple role. It had the same carrier capabilities as the carrier-type cruisers but lacked some of the normal artillery while having additional point defense. The entire ship was built around a skyscraper-sized railgun; a hit from the weapon would take out anything it hit. Of course, actually managing to hit with that sort of projectile would be quite hard. Its theoretical range was significantly longer than any other weapon given the speeds the projectile could reach, but actually knowing where an enemy ship would be in big empty space minutes from when the projectile would hit made using that high range tricky.

    While Sarah and Leo get underway, Jiang gestures over to a free couch along with two more headsets we can use. Wordlessly, I join him, and we set to work picking out formations to throw at each other.

    Offhand, I noticed the room was silent. Konrad had taken his first-round bye as an excuse to go get a snack and watch Sarah and Leo''s match. Meanwhile, at some point I didn¡¯t notice, a small gathering by the door had formed. Word must have gotten around that the new test subjects were doing something interesting. Even guards were getting in on watching. Perhaps El set up the VR headsets to stream the matches. Regardless, no one actually came in, so the breakroom, at least, was quiet.

    The map wasn''t random; we''d all be playing on the same one. In this case, it was a Mars-sized planet with a formidable asteroid belt. Both players would start at opposite edges of the asteroid belt and would do battle around the planet and throughout the belt. Larger ships would have limited ability to maneuver within an asteroid belt, while smaller ships could ambush more easily, making scouting more difficult. In short, it was a map that benefited defense and the use of smaller ships¡ªsomething I was sure Jiang would be well aware of.

    When setting up my formation, I entirely ignored the asteroid belt. I''d leave some ships in it, mostly a handful of less useful corvettes and a frigate or two and most importantly half my cruisers that I didn''t mind losing. The majority of my ships, however, I staged near the south pole of the planet. The asteroid field of the map made it intuitive to treat the entire space as more two-dimensional than it really was. I suspected it was common for much of the fighting to be expected in the narrow band that made up the belt. My hope was that by coming at Jiang from an oblique angle, I could surprise him.

    The match started, and I found the first benefit of my strategy is that I really only had to focus on my token scouting force within the asteroid belt. The majority of my force, just instructed to set into a stationary position over the pole, required very little focus.

    The main trick was that half of my capital ships, particularly the majority of my carrier force, were poorly defended and positioned in the asteroid belt¡ªright where I hoped Jiang would expect them to be. If he had a clear view of the battlefield, the ruse would be pointless. Still, if I could harass his scouts just enough with my own, I could manage to spring the trap.

    First, I pulled all the strike craft from the two deployed carriers and sent them to join up with the carrier I had over the planet''s pole. There, they could refuel, and I could, for at least a single sortie, still hit as if all my carriers were intact.

    Second, I needed to pinpoint the positions of his capital ships¡ªfinding at least three of them for this trade to be worthwhile. Observing how he scouted and where his forces came from to destroy my exposed carriers in the belt would provide some of that information. However, I would have to be proactive in my scouting to ensure I knew enough.

    The first part of the plan went off without a hitch; my forces were, to my knowledge, positioned without any of my ruse being intercepted by my opponent.

    I had one more trick for scouting. Usually, for scouting, long-range scout craft¡ªautonomous or manned along with corvettes for firepower¡ªwere employed. Fast and maneuverable forces could skirmish if needed but were better off gathering information and fleeing at the first sign of trouble.

    The composition of my scouting forces was more dedicated than that. While I may have had fewer ships in the belt itself, I allocated nearly all of them to the scouting effort. As a result, when I first encountered Jiang¡¯s ships¡ªtypical scouting composition of fighters and corvettes¡ªrather than fleeing, I pushed my skirmishing force of mixed corvettes and frigates in, resisting any scouting probes except for one. I allowed that lone probe to continue towards my exposed and empty carriers.

    Thats when I hit the first snag. I had been to aggressive and Jiang¡¯s forces hadn¡¯t yet encountered my carriers. I needed him to spot them, but I didn¡¯t want to push them into an even more exposed position. That would be too obvious; he¡¯d see right through the trap, or at least be suspicious.

    I kept my aggressive scouting going, and so far, any reinforcements he might have sent in response had not yet arrived. His existing forces retreated, opting for skirmishes with my better-armed scouts. Things continued in that manner for a minute more, and my anxiety grew the whole time as there was information I needed that I did not yet have.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Thankfully, Jiang at last responded to my aggressive early play with one of his own. A large force, comprised of many of Jiang¡¯s frigates and, most importantly, supported by the cruiser fitted with heavy weapons, pushed back against my scouts. In my mind, this cruiser was the most valuable ship either of us had due to its armor, speed, and ability to take down other capital ships. It was joined by a significant contingent of strike craft as well.

    While this response didn''t reveal the location of his carriers, it did give me an idea of how far away they were. Given I could assume they were in the asteroid belt, it narrowed down their position.

    I foresaw how the engagement would unfold a full minute before it commenced. As soon as I spotted Jiang''s force, I initiated the retreat of my scouts toward the sacrificial carriers. Simultaneously, I amassed a large wave of strike craft to be directed toward where I believed Jiang¡¯s main force of capital ships would be. With the heavily armed cruiser and most dedicated point defense ships pulled away to deal with my larger scouting forces, I hoped to secure one or two capital ships in exchange for the forces I was sacrificing in the belt.

    Launching that attack, I turned my attention to salvaging what I could from the losing engagement I had orchestrated. Knowing roughly the range of the largest weapons on the brawler cruiser, I had been retreating my scouts toward my empty carriers. With my attacks launched, I tried to anticipate where the cruiser might end up to start shooting at my carriers.

    Navigation within the belt was limited. While the better-armored cruiser could technically smash through some of the lesser debris, it was the kind of damage you wouldn¡¯t usually want to incur. Unless Jiang specifically directed it, the ship would endeavor to avoid debris in its pathing. It was a risky assumption, but I was eager to see what the massive railgun on the dreadnought could do.

    Without doing any precise calculations, I relied on eyeballing. I knew roughly where I would position the carrier two minutes from now. Although it was too wide a range to ensure a hit, I deemed it close enough to take the pot shot all the way from the planet''s pole. When the shot arrived, Jiang would know where the dreadnought, and probably the rest of my forces, were. However, by the time it hit, either my trap would have succeeded or I would have lost anyway. It was a risk worth taking.

    Two minutes in, everything still seemed on track. Jiang¡¯s force had spotted my exposed carrier group and was moving aggressively to destroy it. I hindered him every step of the way with the ships I could throw into defense, not wanting to make it seem like I was actively sacrificing the force. The well-armed cruiser faced no issues; its armor was thick enough that the best my smaller ships could do was try to take out its less-armored engines. Unfortunately, maneuvering around the heavily armored wedge-shaped gun platform was easier said than done, and my token force was being decimated.

    The force I had sent of fast-moving fighters, frigates, and corvettes had reached its top speed and would have to begin decelerating. For the strike craft and destroyers, I did decelerate, but for some of the corvettes, I left them at their full speed. They would shoot through the asteroid field in a wide swath before turning back around, and I hoped they would confirm the location of the enemy capital ships in the process.

    Thirty seconds out from the railgun shell arriving at its presumed target, I was growing excited, my feet twitching even as I tried to focus on my actions in the sim.

    My token force was being decimated. A tightening in my chest accompanied the sight of the disabled carrier, while the other was well on its way, most of the escort gone. It had always been a sacrificial force¡ªno sentimental value attached, but they were significant assets here. Their loss, even anticipated was stressful. I pressed on, fingers dancing over the controls, determined to salvage what I could.

    Jiang¡¯s heavy cruiser was within 1000 meters of the railgun shell''s path, better than I could have hoped given the guesswork involved but still not a hit. Meanwhile, my attack toward where I estimated his main capital ships to be was going well.

    I had spotted two cruisers clumped together, and the dreadnought off a fair distance with its own escort. I ignored the dreadnought; with its more formidable escort and its own point defense, my strike force of mostly small craft would find doing any damage difficult. It was the escort around the carriers that had been most drained to support Jiang¡¯s attack on my own exposed forces, so by the time his scouts saw my high-speed corvettes sprinting through the belt from a dimension he had failed to properly consider, it was too late. Waves of strike craft trounced into the under-defended carriers, and even as I lost my own token force, Jiang¡¯s losses were starting to look comparable.

    Jiang now knew where my main force was, bunched up at the pole. The remaining dreadnought and carrier I had matched his own carrier forces, and my own heavy cruiser had yet to expend any ammunition or take any hits to its armor. We had both lost a similar number of strike craft, and I had lost a dozen more escort ships. It wasn¡¯t a decisive blow by any means.

    What was a decisive blow was the railgun shot. The few scouts I still had in the area, distracting the heavy cruiser to the best of their ability to keep it in position, had done their jobs. The feeling of gratification I felt when the shell delivered a glancing blow off the back of Jiang¡¯s ship had me give a little yelp of success. It was more luck than skill, but still the hit was good.

    Even if the ship''s engines weren¡¯t disabled, it would be slowed, unable to maneuver; it would be a sitting duck for my next wave of strike craft, even if I didn¡¯t include any other heavier ships to support it.

    Jiang could either abandon it or concentrate his forces around it as if it were a station. If he abandoned it, I would be left with an insurmountable material advantage. Already at the pole, Jiang would have to pull his ships out of the belt to attack me, to make any use of the heavy weapons on his dreadnought¡ªan engagement of ships he was still likely to lose, given my unmolested heavy cruiser. If he chose to form up around it, I would be hard-pressed to win in a single attack, but I would know where his forces were at all times; he would be unable to scout or attack dramatically without leaving himself vulnerable.

    It wasn¡¯t a total victory; things like local stations, supply ships, and reinforcements would sometimes be added as constraints to academy sims. But in this fight here¡ªcasual and in its own little vacuum, all tactics with no grand strategy¡ªI was confident I had won and prepared to press my advantage.

    Perhaps Jiang still had some tricks left; maybe he was just taking stock of his situation. We play another minute or so before he concedes the match. I remove the headset, enjoy the weight of concentration lifting from my shoulders. My eyes, tired from the focused gameplay, blink against the harsh lighting of the room, a manic smile on my face.

    Looking around the room, I quickly try to compose myself. There are suddenly a lot of people watching. Many more lab coats and uniformed personnel had shown up to peek into the breakroom while I was focused on the sim; a few were clapping politely at my win. Sarah, Leo, and Konrad had been watching as well, checking in on the bracket. It seemed Sarah had beaten Leo; the next match would be her and Konrad, then I would get to play the winner. Belatedly, I realize we would probably end up playing each other again, and the taste that left in my mouth was almost enough to render my recent victory ash. Almost. I still felt the pleasant buzz of a close-run match resolving in my favor.

    ¡°Well played; I knew you¡¯d been at one of the poles from the 5-minute mark, but I didn¡¯t think it was going to matter. Shows me,¡± Jiang chuckled with the offer of a shaken hand. I take it enthusiastically and try my best to be a gracious winner. I fail and can¡¯t keep the grin from taking over my face, but at least I tried.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this new sim great, Vic?¡± Sarah asked, gesturing to the headset I¡¯d just stripped off. ¡°It''s so much nicer to look at, and the controls on those things are so smooth. It felt like I could flick around the whole map with just a twitch of my eyes, barely need the hand controllers, and there are so many cool maps. There''s one where you can fight around the event horizon of a black hole. It''s so gameified, but in a fun way!¡±

    I nod my agreement. I hadn¡¯t thought too much about those little quality-of-life changes when I was trying to win. It was familiar in a lot of ways to the more rugged sims we¡¯d presumably all used in the academy. Still, she was right about it feeling a little like a gamified war game. There were features that someone had put major time into that only really helped immersion. It wasn¡¯t as if there was a soundtrack or stunning visuals or anything like that. Someone had taken care to make the experience smooth, seamless, hiding some of the crunchy technical details behind smoothed layers of effort and commodification.

    "Yeah, I had fun. It feels like graduation sims were just last week, so I''m kinda surprised at that," I shrugged. "Also, I really need a drink. I swear I can''t believe that was 45 minutes!"

    I part from the others and wander off to get myself a drink and a snack. Konrad and Sarah start their match, and I tune in to watch, pleasantly distracted from all that had happened in the last 24 hours. Earth might be choking with industrial smog, its colonies under siege, and the species at risk of extinction, but at least in this moment we were alive.

    My brain might be melting into me-scream, I might end up a partially enslaved entity beyond human comprehension but at least for now I was still me.

    It just felt nice to be surrounded by a bunch of peers, all in the same boat with similar interests. The cozy breakroom turned observation space was starting to feel like a place I could relax in, this group of strangers shifting closer towards friends.

    In that moment of relative peace and comfort, Konrad jerks and slips off the couch. His body convulsing and twitching violently on the ground a limb striking Sarah in the leg while pink-red gore dribbles down the back of his neck, staining the cozy scene with unexpected horror. Sarah cries out for help, and somewhere, an alarm starts.

    I take a numb sip of my coffee and shiver.

 Chapter 6: Sacrifice

    Konrad hadn¡¯t been on the floor for more than a few seconds before the room filled with staff, all donned in white coats and protective equipment. It made sense. The bots in our heads, and for all intents and purposes, currently seeping from Konrad onto the floor, may as well have been a mechanical prion disease, built specifically for tearing apart neurons.

    In theory, if specially administered and programmed, it should replace and improve any functionality it destroys. However, getting some into your bloodstream at a random time by accident was probably not great for one''s health.

    I found myself looking through space rather than at it, feeling distant while Konrad¡¯s limp body was pulled out of the room on a stretcher. At some point, the alarm had stopped, and the quiet felt momentarily unnatural. I suppose even being dosed in ideal circumstances like I was, having little grey matter-devouring machines wasn¡¯t good for one''s health either.

    I¡­¡± Sarah choked out as the room was left nearly vacant and quiet again, with only a small cleanup crew quickly scrubbing Konrad out of the carpet and couch.

    ¡°-I had just set a little ambush; he was responding weirdly, and then he just¡­¡± Sarah trailed off. The four of us clustered together, all unsure what to do ¨C me with my cooling coffee cup, Sarah with Konrad¡¯s blood on her pants leg after she had tried to help him. Jiang had stood up from where he was seated after our match but hadn¡¯t moved from the spot.

    Leo likewise joined in, wide-eyed with concern, one hand pressed gently against the side of his own head.

    Well, fuck me," Leo finally added in his attempt to break the silence. At the same time, both Jiang and Sarah, with the practiced repetition of a well-worn statement, replied,

    "Ask me out to dinner first," and "Sorry, don¡¯t swing that way," respectively.

    The momentary absurdity caught all of us off guard, drawing an exasperated huff from me, a choked laugh from Leo, and a look of surprise between Jiang and Sarah.

    ¡°I thought I knew the risks going in, you know?¡± I gestured towards the room. ¡°But seeing on paper that half the mice in an experiment died, it seems so distant compared to¡­ that. Do you think he¡¯ll be okay?¡±

    Jiang shook his head a little, not meeting my eyes. Sarah was more sympathetic and offered me a hug. I accepted this time, not begrudgingly like her last attempted hug when we had just gotten out of cryo.

    ¡°I think they will keep him alive. Dr. Hirsh mentioned that El was created from a human cadaver right? Maybe even if he doesn¡¯t regain awareness, they¡¯ll just keep treating him anyway. Maybe at some point, he¡¯d end up like her?¡± Leo offered.

    I wasn¡¯t sure if I thought that was better or worse than just dying.

    I felt suddenly quite small, leaning closer into the hug that Sarah had offered me.

    ¡°Hey Sarah¡± I near whispered, not sure for a moment if it was really my voice at all.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve been a bit jerk ever since graduation. I¡¯m not really a good¡­ looser.¡± It felt so inconsequential now. What was a loss in a game almost a decade ago as far as anyone cared in comparison to the billions of little Damoclean daggers floating through each of us?

    Sarah didn¡¯t chide me or poke fun in her usual fashion, she didn¡¯t cheer at my having finally conceded she had beaten me. She just held me and agreed ¡°I know¡± and that was that.

    With the couches clean, no one felt much like finishing our tournament or playing games anymore. We reclined and engaged in very idle small talk, Sarah and I on one couch, Jiang and Leo on the other. I had shot El and Dr. Hirsh both a message asking for an update, and Jiang had knocked on one of the observation room walls to try and get an answer from one of the researchers out there. No answers had been forthcoming.

    The events of the past hour had added a spike of adrenaline into the mix, but now that it had faded, a cloud of exhaustion was sweeping over my brain, and the Schiltrons of caffeine were starting to buckle. Still, I could not sleep. I drank again from my now cool coffee cup, draining it, and then moved to fetch more.

    My heart rate didn¡¯t feel right; at first, it was just an awareness. The insistent lub-dub wasn¡¯t unusually fast or unpleasant. Just that I was aware of it in a way that felt unusual. I held up two digits to my neck, taking my pulse to confirm that the feeling in my chest did line up with my actual heart rate. I must have been making a face.

    ¡°Vic, you okay?¡± Jiang looked concerned. At his prompting, the others looked over as well.

    ¡°You know how normally you don¡¯t think about your breathing until something reminds you about it? Then suddenly you are annoyingly aware of your breathing, no longer on autopilot? It''s a bit like that. I¡¯m proprioceptively aware of my heart rate and breathing, only it''s not going away? It''s been a minute now, and I can¡¯t seem to unfocus.¡±

    Sarah and Jiang looked on, somewhere between confused and concerned, but Leo had a look of recognition on his face.

    ¡°That''s exactly how to describe it! Like when you really pay attention to your breathing and heart rate when you run a race. It doesn¡¯t hurt or anything; it''s just distracting, kinda like a panic attack almost, just without the panic part, you know?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°So you''re feeling that too? Do you think it''s just some sort of psychosomatic panic response, and we¡¯re just being hypochondriacs after what happened to Konrad? Sarah and Jiang don¡¯t seem to be having any issues.¡±

    Jiang nodded sympathetically. ¡°Well, seeing as no one is bleeding out on the floor, I don¡¯t think it''s an immediate concern. But probably bring it up next time Dr. Hirsh comes by?¡± he offered.

    We didn¡¯t have to wait long for that. It wasn¡¯t more than another 10 minutes before a frazzled-looking doctor in a coffee-stained lab coat made his appearance.

    Immediately he spoke in a rapid deluge of words, ¡°I am so sorry for the delay. As you can imagine, it''s been a frantic morning. Konrad is stable for now, and we hope to keep him that way. I can¡¯t say when he will regain consciousness.¡±

    I felt a knot of tension I didn¡¯t realize I was holding relax in my gut. Leo gave a half-hearted cheer. Konrad wasn¡¯t going to be okay; I don¡¯t think we had any illusions about that. But he wasn¡¯t dead, which was something.

    ¡°What happened to him, Doc? Is there anything we can do to avoid that?¡± Jiang asked pointedly. Dr. Hirsh had a momentary guilty look flash across his face before he answered.

    ¡°Well, during the process, not every neuron is recreated in perfect functionality. This means the way the recreated neuron responds to signals, the electrical impulses it sends out, can be slightly different from the neuron it replaced. This isn¡¯t usually an issue; a bit of neuroplasticity is built in, and the system can adapt. In Konrad''s case, enough of these mistakes were in close proximity, creating a cascade that caused a seizure. We won¡¯t try to wake him up through the rest of the process. He will likely have limited awareness once the conversion is completed and will require some conventional neural network training to recover that functionality.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you all had to see that. I know this can¡¯t be an easy thing to sit through, wondering if perhaps it will be you laying on the floor next. I can¡¯t offer you any assurances, but I thought I should bring you some news.¡±

    He rummaged through the folder he had brought, gesturing towards the table while he pulled out some pictures and documents. I got up to sit in the far less comfortable chair at the table to see what he wanted to show us.

    ¡°Technically speaking, none of you have the clearance to see any of this. That being said, the existence of the Theseus project, something you all embody, is the second-best kept military secret there is. Plus, soon you¡¯ll functionally be second only to the Admiralty Council in terms of information you have access to. I think it''s prudent that you know just why we¡¯re doing this, how desperate things have gotten.¡±

    ¡°Originally,¡± he declared, his voice going soft and solemn, ¡°we had planned to have a counteroffensive ready to set forth from the Sol system to secure first the most populated colonies, such as those in the Centauri system, reclaim human space from there.¡± He held out a report, letting us pass it around to back up what he was saying.

    ¡°Those plans changed a week ago when a bug scoutship was detected far out on sensors from Proxima Centauri b. Based on previous patterns, we¡¯re expecting attacks to start any day now. The entire system, we expect to be lost within a month.¡±

    The document confirmed what he was saying. I held it gently after Leo passed it to me, skimming through the lines and feeling the weight of what it meant.

    ¡°There are almost a billion people in Alpha Centauri. Can they evacuate that many?¡± Jiang asked with concern.

    ¡°I¡¯m not privy to those details¡­ I hope they do, but things are going to get bad. There isn¡¯t room for that many people here. There are significant fortifications in the system; they should be able to hold out for a while, but we won¡¯t be able to relieve them for likely a year or more, even under the best conditions. We¡¯ve never seen a planetary siege of this scale. There are some theories, but we aren¡¯t sure what will happen or how long...¡± Came Dr. Hirsh¡¯s reply.

    Perhaps I was just jaded, but the way I saw it, an evacuation wouldn¡¯t even be attempted. When I had gone under for cryo seven years ago, the food and housing situation in the Sol system wasn¡¯t great. There were efforts to expand refugee camps and food production, but they were all secondary to the war effort. We couldn¡¯t handle a billion refugees then, and I¡¯m quite sure things had only gotten worse. The entire system was going to be used as a roadblock, the largest sacrifice in human history, all to save us a month.

    ¡°Well, that''s a downer. I guess it does make me feel a bit better about what''s happening here. Like, even if I don¡¯t come out alright, it still helps everyone else, you know?¡± Leo murmured. I couldn¡¯t help but agree.

    ¡°Speaking of something happening, Doc, Leo and Vic both mentioned something about not being able to stop being aware of their breathing and heart rate, which I only mentioned cause, uh, me too. It''s weird, like a constant background to everything, even this conversation. Is that bad?¡± Sarah spoke up, reminding me of those pesky little details I couldn¡¯t seem to forget.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Dr. Hirsh nodded, thinking for a moment. ¡°Well, I had said at the start that this would be a learning experience for everyone. It does make some sense. The first dose is primarily targeting the brain stem, which is responsible for things like heart rate, breathing, sleep, and the like. It is also where all information from your body travels to get to your brain. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you had a lot of changes like that.¡±

    Doc seemed plenty pleased with this turn of events, progress and learning all that. The rest of the group was not so entertained.

    ¡°So, you mean to say that I¡¯m going to be constantly aware of my heartbeat and breathing just forever now?¡± Leo didn¡¯t seem distressed anymore, now having an explanation, just peeved.

    Dr. Hirsh shrugged. ¡°I suspect eventually you will be able to relegate it to being a subsystem again when you are better at organizing the functions of your body later on, but in general, yes.¡± Jiang let out a not-too-relieved sigh.

    It was a relief, I suppose, just to know that my brain wasn¡¯t about to melt out of my ears the same way Konrad¡¯s had. At the same time, it was a bit of an annoying symptom.

    ¡°That''s so annoying,¡± I spoke under my breath. Sarah nodded in agreement, and Doc just gave an apologetic smile.

    It continued to be annoying. Doc had left, promising his return in a bit to administer another dose of brain-melting robots into the ports in our heads. Sarah and I still hadn¡¯t thought to finish that match we technically owed each other, and any attempts at games were half-hearted at best. I fuzzed around with the game library through the headset a bit more; there was plenty beyond just war sims. I¡¯d never had access to a game library quite as large, but I still couldn¡¯t bring myself to really feel invested. My attention just seemed elsewhere, spread thin.

    Twenty-four hours on the nose after our first dose, Dr. Hirsh and a few aides returned with some equipment: a biohazard box with a tube and a port on the end, a narrow silver cylinder.

    ¡°Hope you''re all keeping yourselves entertained. We already dosed Konrad. Which of you would like to go first?¡± He asked.

    I was standing in a flash, hand raised. ¡°Dibs on the fresh head goo,¡± I muttered to everyone''s displeasure.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to make it sound gross. We¡¯re just pulling out any accumulated buildup of waste products and giving you another dose. It''s all through the one port, clean, and will only take a few seconds.¡± He gestured towards a chair he¡¯d pulled over, and I sat myself down, pulling my hair out of the way to leave my port exposed.

    ¡°Thank you, Vic. Hold still, please.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t really much of a sensation to it, a soft click that she more heard than felt as the port at the end of the biohazard container was hooked up. Dr. Hirsh tapped away at a tablet for a moment, and I felt a pressure I hadn¡¯t even noticed suddenly leave my head, the pulped goo of my brain stem draining away. It seemed like something I should find distressing, but honestly, the feeling was nice¡ªa tangible release of tension.

    Doc was right; it was finished in a few seconds, and he was hooking up the silver cylinder to my port, a soothing cool feeling all through the back of my head before another soft click let me know I was finished.

    My thoughts aside the rest of the room seemed put off. Sarah and Jiang both looked a little pale and Leo gagged. I belatedly realized that a fair amount of fluid leaving my brain had made a sound while it poured into the bio hazard bin, like some thick slime, not exactly pleasant sounding.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dramatic, guys,¡± I offered. ¡°That actually felt pretty nice. I don¡¯t even feel all that tired anymore.¡±

    If that didn¡¯t get people motivated, nothing would. I still felt really, really tired; it was getting well into two days without sleep.

    ¡°So, who¡¯s next?¡± Dr. Hirsh spoke up.

    Sarah popped up next to take her turn, and I once again returned to the couch to watch the proceedings.

    I poked around on my tablet some more, the second I picked it up I recived a message from El.

    El - [Bored?]

    [Turns out even stress can¡¯t keep me entertained forever. Very] - Guestjbu3470

    El - [I figured, I told Dr. Hirsh humans need better enrichment activities. I¡¯ll tell him to bring you a new toy.]

    [?] - Guestjbu3470

    El - [;)]

    I didn¡¯t have much of an idea of what El meant by "a new toy," and the AI wasn¡¯t being forthcoming, but at least it probably wouldn¡¯t leave us as bored and tired as I currently felt.

    As foretold, Dr. Hirsh returned, a bulky piece of computer hardware in tow. A whole tangled mess of wires and various adapters surrounded the thing.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be ready to use this for a few days still, but El seems to think you would all benefit from getting started earlier, and I¡¯m hardly going to complain about being ahead of schedule.¡±

    He paused, what an agonizingly long pause it was.

    ¡°This here is a networked real old-fashioned workstation. I¡¯ve got all these custom ports set up so that you can properly interface with it using your ports. I''m afraid I only have one, so you will have to take turns trying things out. El will likely be more helpful in helping you figure out exactly how to do that, but you should be developing the necessary hardware to do so in the next day or so if you haven¡¯t already.¡±

    ¡°Dibs!¡± I shouted immediately, shooting up and making my way over before anyone else could get a word out.

    ¡°Now, this might not do anything. If it does, then we are quite ahead of schedule. That being said, if the conversion process has already created the necessary architecture for a hard connection like this, then you shouldn¡¯t need to ¡®do¡¯ anything. Just relax and treat it as a learning experience, I suppose?¡± Dr. Hirsh shrugged, then helped me get plugged in, the custom adapter slotting into the port in my head like it was made for it (it really was).

    An instant connection swam through my mind, immediately headache-inducing. I must have made a strange face, and everyone else clustered around to watch.

    This was a handshake, not even with anything on the computer, just the port adapters. It was instantaneous to go through, but feeling it happen was a unique experience, to say the least. Dr. Hirsh was right; whatever hardware had been growing in my head made the process intuitive. ''Handshake'' didn¡¯t feel quite right as a description. It made a bit of sense¡ªthe protocols of communication between two machines, conceptualized as a human conversation.

    It didn¡¯t feel like the start of a conversation; it felt like retracing a well-worn thought, some familiar process looped through simply because that was the way things should be.

    Needless to say, nothing was at all familiar about the process. Disconcerting.

    Then I was through, information from the workstation connected right into my head, no UI necessary. There was no screen; I didn¡¯t ¡®see¡¯ anything, and yet I could perceive every limited thing on the workstation through a nice, fast fiberoptic cable.

    ¡°Hey Doc, there isn¡¯t really anything on here? No operating system, you also scrapped most of its hardware. There''s basically BIOS, and that''s it. What''s up?¡± I asked, confused.

    ¡°Well, that''s just it. The workstation is just a tool; the actual activity here is running it yourself. I do have an operating system you could try loading on it, but it would mostly be running on your mind, which may be a bit much. I was thinking you could start with command-line activities and go from there.¡±

    I thought about it. I¡¯d already started on what he recommended, seeing what I could build from the nothing that was here. I wasn¡¯t a stellar programmer by any means. Even if I could interact with code in a novel way, I wouldn¡¯t be spitting out any advanced systems without some sort of template or example to at least springboard off of.

    ¡°Hit me with the OS, doc. I think I can shut it down just fine if it''s too much.¡±

    He frowned but apparently conceded, pulling out a flash drive and fussing with the other ports on the workstation.

    ¡°Remember, anything running in your own head you have total control over, but anything running on this machine will run using whatever rules it has. In this case, it''s just a workstation, but don¡¯t be surprised.¡±

    With that came an install prompt for the OS, which I quickly parsed through. It''s shocking how fast you can read something when you skip the visual medium and go straight to comprehension.

    It was about as bare-bones as a modern operating system could get, some sort of server software for simple and secure government systems. The install began, and it was a little disorienting. The workstation had a motherboard, hard drives, most of the things that could make a computer a computer.

    What it didn¡¯t have was a processor, which was a non-issue since apparently my head was a perfectly fine substitute.

    I pretty quickly realized that this was a mistake.

    The part of my brain that was ready to do this sort of work was primarily serving as my brainstem.

    The human brainstem is a fantastic bit of kit, totally subconscious maintenance of many of the body''s systems. Breathing, blood pressure, heart rate¡ªall things that my newly converted brainstem had wonderful shorthand and efficiency for dealing with; higher processing really was supposed to be the rest of the brain''s job.

    Unfortunately, the rest of my brain wasn¡¯t currently set up to read this wonderfully clear set of instructions, which was effortless to continue reading, writing, following the instructions. Everything else fell away, and I sank without a thought into the executable.

    It was only a few seconds before it was finished, before my heart restarted, and I jerked awake, gasping for a breath, only belatedly realizing my heart had stopped.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I breathed.

    ¡°Vic? Vic!¡± Sarah exclaimed, practically jumping at me as I struggled to sit myself back up, apparently having slumped out of my chair.

    ¡°Woah, woah, I¡¯m¡­okay?¡±

    Dr. Hirsh looked concerned, having taken out a tablet of his own, I assume to take a look at my vitals or maybe what was going on in the workstation.

    ¡°That was¡­ unexpected. Vic, I think it''s best if we put a pin in this for right now and get you a quick check-up.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a request. Honestly, having seen what happened to Konrad earlier, I didn¡¯t really mind letting some qualified folks make sure I hadn¡¯t just fried my brain.