Lab 7
Lab 7 was stark, grey, drab, unimpressive - except for the tall, transparent cylindrical booth at its center and the state-of-the-art white and matte black control console facing it. They had removed their helmets shortly after exiting the airlock into the atmosphere filled room. Ambie relished the cool air blowing out of the ceiling vents onto his face. He always became slightly claustrophobic inside an EnvoSuit helmet. There was air, but it never seemed to move. He removed the DatScroll from his utility belt, unscrolled it, then set it atop the tripod he had placed on the floor.
“Ready Captain.”
Emerson nodded from the control console where he stood with Bissett. She peered intently at the display, made a few adjustments, then turned towards Emerson and nodded.
“Ensign, start recording.” He said, as he came from behind the console to face the tall cylinder. He glanced at Bissett. “Go ahead.”
Her nose crinkled as she keyed in the last of the safety codes. For a few seconds, a low hum emanated through the chamber. As the sound faded, a slowly pulsating sparkling golden glow formed within the cylinder’s center. As if blown by a gentle breeze, delicate tendrils of gold zig zagged out in all directions, forming loose shapes. Thin threads snaked outwards to become dark auburn hair, the vague oval framed by the locks formed shadows that solidified into captivating features. The gold mist tightened into a pleasingly curvy and strong form, clothed in what appeared to be some sort of body suit. The ensign recognized the tunic as a standard officer’s IC uniform, only tighter and slightly luminescent. When the gold mist dissipated he beheld one of the most vivid, and beautiful, holograms he had ever seen. He would have sworn there was a real woman in there had she not stood over 4 meters tall! She seemed to float in a vacuum, wraith like and ethereal. The effect was that of an ancient and powerful goddess, one long ago lost to the ages who had come back to grace them with her celestial presence. She wore an expression of bemused puzzlement, until her emerald eyes locked onto Emerson. A knowing and slightly mischievous grin, that somehow made her even more radiant, slowly formed.
“Hello again…lover.”
Emerson hated when she called him that. It made him feel conspiratorial, as if he had something to do with the fate of the Dermont. He was certain she knew this grated on him. She knew him well enough to know all his buttons, good and bad.
“Pandora…” Her name alone should have told them there was going to be trouble.
Introductions
Emerson was first introduced to Pandora at an IC Engineering lab in Florence. Her name was chosen because, according to her creators, she would be opening up a box full of possibilities. In hindsight, a mistake and irony at its best.
The team had been working on an AI that could not only assist a captain with menial day-to-day starship operations, but also in; situational evaluations, tactics and interpersonal crew issues. Lack of emotions rendered AI’s virtually useless in every category save general ship operations. Simply put, they didn’t understand how personalities and emotions affected relationships and influenced outcomes. The best any captain could do is to take whatever conclusions the shipboard AI gave them with a grain of salt. Tactics were equally as elusive. So much hinged not only on traditional methods of engagement but personality, and intuition.
With this in mind, the IC engineers had managed to endow Pandora with basic emotions. The exact science of it escaped him however, it was explained that thousands of IC personnel’s emotional reactions to stimuli had been “mapped” then incorporated into the AI as a living algorithm that would learn and grow as the AI interacted with humans. She didn’t necessarily fully experience emotions, they were more of a reference that could be factored into her calculations. “Feeling from a distance” is how it was coined.
As a collateral perk, the AI was more affable in its interactions and possessed a bit of warmth and personality. A better interface for a captain to work with, if you will. Their secondary goal was to tailor the AI for the individual captain. The thinking was that the better the AI “knew” its captain, the more comfortable the captain would be with the AI, which would make for a more harmonious and productive working relationship. In the eyes of most starship captains, Emerson included, IC AI’s were only somewhat useful and tended to be a bit difficult to work with due to their inherently glacial military demeanor. Adapting them to a captain’s individual disposition and tastes using not only the inherent learning of an AI, but also an emotional matrix, could negate this widespread bias.
The engineers hailed her as the most advanced AI created by the IC. In fact, as far as they knew, Pandora was the most advanced AI ever created! Her emotionally enhanced analytical abilities were first tested in hundreds of simulations, the bulk of which, at first, had mixed results. Pandora had learned quickly though, and was soon solving real life problems brought to her by IC Command. Her insights proved invaluable and bordered on prescient. Her understanding of the emotions that influenced decisions - be them interpersonal or tactical - had made her predictions far more accurate, by a very wide margin, than any other AI in the fleet.
However, simulations and non-critical problem analysis/solving were no substitute for performing in real-time onboard a starship. The ICS Dermont, where Emerson had recently been appointed Captain, was selected for the first real-life shakedown of Pandora.
Emerson had been astonished. Her tactical evaluations bordered on uncanny, as if she had a crystal ball buried deep in her code that simply revealed future outcomes. He had also been somewhat ashamed to admit, if only to himself, that he was attracted to her. Which logically made sense since everything in his file, both personal and professional, had been integrated into her programming. There was a sort of immediate understanding between them, something akin to a real human connection. Even her body type, which harkened back to a 20th century artist whose work Emerson admired, was his personal ideal. She was the perfect woman for him in every respect, had she been a real woman.
There were plenty of people that had fallen in love with holograms over the years, and almost everyone had at some point indulged themselves in holographic fantasy. Emerson never considered himself that sentimental or desperate. She seemed so real though! The IC engineers had done their job all too well. A few months after their first meeting, Pandora was downloaded into the Dermont mainframe for field testing.
Reintroductions
“I’ve missed you Michael, I wish you would visit more often.” Pandora cooed, a slight pout to her lips. “Have you missed me?” She coyly twirled a lock of her hair as she spoke. There was no need in her voice, but rather the confidence of a lover who knew they had the upper hand.
“I think you know the answer to that.” Emerson answered evenly.
“Oh Michael, always so serious.” Her gaze turned towards Bissett. “I see you’ve brought our dear Danielle with you. It’s been so long! I hope you don’t harbor any ill feelings for my rude behavior when last we spoke.” Her voice dripped feigned sincerity.
Ambie felt a constricting tension fill the room, the ensign was dumbstruck. What was going on here? It was flirting with the captain, and taunting the commander? There was something about this AI that was off, in a most unnerving way. This exchange was personal. The tragedy of the ICS Dermont historically is described as a software malfunction that got out of hand. What floated before him was no mere malfunction, but something far greater. His fear following Emerson’s description of the events leading to the Dermont’s destruction was a fear of a mundane, yet deadly, software glitch manifested in the shipboard AI. What he saw with chilling clarity before him was not merely a malfunctioning AI, but a devious and conniving entity driven by something other than faulty programming.
Bissett’s hand unconsciously drifted towards her sidearm. She quickly caught herself, returning it to the controls. Shooting the panel and, by extension, le pute, wouldn’t do them any good. They needed her, unfortunately.
“Laissons le passé au passé...” Her reply was flat, but her eyes were narrow in hatred.