“Was that a test?”
“Of sorts. I was curious how well you process conversational input.”
That was the least shocking event since his unprecedented awakening. “Is it possible for me to inspect my new form?”
“Certainly.” Qalu hurried away and returned with an implement that reflected a strange countenance.
He had wide eyes, a dark, flat olfactory detector, head tendrils, and a bipedal form. Unlike Qalu, his skin was blue and the delicate scales on his upper body shimmered with a touch of aquatic iridescence.
“I look Tiralan,” he said, somewhat startled by the realization.
But on consideration, it made sense that Qalu would model her work after her own people. Am I attractive for a Tiralan? He had no way of calculating that.
“Are you pleased?” Qalu asked.
“I am… informed,” he replied.
“Do you truly feel well now? I can safely increase the dosage once more, if you don’t.”
“I am not hurting.” It was such a novelty to say that, and this new body must certainly have all sorts of requirements that he’d never experienced. The fascinating possibilities were almost enough to divert him from his missing memories. Almost. “I have some lost time and cannot recall how I came to crash on Tiralan.”
“I’m sorry. I feared there might be some corruption in the transition. I’m glad you didn’t lose all your memories, at least.”
Regret offered no solutions, but it seemed querulous to persist. Perhaps he could retrieve the memories on his own, somehow. “Indeed. Pardon the query, but in my current state, I cannot scan for information. As I recall, the Tiralan choose their gender on attaining maturity. May I ask your choice?” In fact, there were multiple options.
“I am femme,” Qalu said. “Though I’ll note there are those who opt to remain in their neutral state.”
“Understood. Will I be able to choose?” That was an intriguing prospect.
“Of course. Your body is fully Tiralan in every respect.”
Qalu thought, perhaps, she could have been more forthcoming, but Helix had more than enough information to process. The fact was, she hadn’t precisely applied for permission to save Helix’s life. Her work was experimental, even on Tiralan, and the scientific coalition didn’t even know that she’d perfected a prototype. The organization thought she was still at the theoretical stage with her work. Her research qualified for an annual stipend, but she had to tolerate significant oversight. This was an unprecedented opportunity for advancement that had literally fallen from the sky. While it would be safer and more prudent to advise the coalition now, she didn’t know how they’d react to learning she’d found an AI in a failing ship, and that she had made an executive decision to transfer the intelligence. The coalition might deem Helix dangerous and order termination.
I cannot permit that to occur.
Aloud, she added, “Had you selected pronouns before?”
“It was an arbitrary choice, as my prior existence was esoteric. Feel free to use ‘he’ for now. I will inform you if my status changes.”
Qalu nodded, trying to determine how she would explain his arrival to her clan; fortunately, they didn’t share this residence, but they lived nearby and multiple kinfolks would visit before long, and all of them would have questions. Prevarication wasn’t her strong suit either, so if they pressed forcefully, she might reveal the truth.
“Pressing forcefully” encapsulated most interactions with her mothers, as they reminded her often that they worried about her solitary tendencies. The Tiralan cannot live alone, her foremother had said, at least a hundred times.
It wasn’t as if she was completely by herself either; she lived with Aevi, but her foremother, Inatol, claimed that Aevi didn’t count, and this essential disagreement offered another source of contention.
Qalu wished she could earn a respite from the constant meddling. She eyed Helix’s Tiralan form. A ridiculous yet convenient solution glimmered to life, carrying with it all the excitement of a new experiment. It would solve her problem and protect Helix from discovery. But she shouldn’t mention it yet. They probably had time before the interruptions began, and there were more critical issues to assess.
“Can you move?” she asked.
“Move what?”
“Your body. The process will likely be different than the way you interacted with your mechanical format.”
After what looked like a struggle, Helix raised his left lower limb, and then he snapped, “This meat vessel is broken! It does nothing that I request or require.”
“You were trying to lift something else? I wonder if the interface is interpreting your neural signals correctly. There may be…challenges.” She fetched the scanner and ran diagnostics, but all the readings fell within expected parameters. “Or it could be that you must adapt to this new style of communication and there may be a learning curve.”
“What does that mean?” He was cross, which she’d theorized was possible, but it was exciting to have the hypothesis proven.
The ones she had developed were all calm and somewhat remote, and none of them had reached the level of self-sufficiency that made her feel comfortable putting them in the prototype. But the code she’d glimpsed in the ship database—gorgeous, pure, a complete cascade with complex connections and—
Don’t forget your primary purpose. Qalu often got distracted, and sometimes she forgot to consume nutrition when she fixated on a problem.
“That there will probably be a period of adjustment, and I will assist you in any manner you require as you learn what it’s like to be Tiralan.”
“I am not—” Helix started, but then he appeared to recollect his new situation. “Yes. There is a great deal of new knowledge I must acquire. And if it is possible, I would like to uncover how precisely I arrived in this predicament.”
“Though I can’t guarantee efficacy, I’ll work with you to try to recover those lost memories,” Qalu promised.
She hoped the AI could read her sincerity, but he might not have progressed that much in utilizing organic visual receptors. It was a bit disconcerting to communicate with him, however, because she had indulged herself and created a prototype who matched her tastes to the most infinitesimal degree. Now she was speaking with an animated version of her ideal mate, and she hadn’t foreseen how complicated that could become.
“I appreciate your kindness,” Helix said stiffly.
He had given up on trying to move, and that didn’t bode well. To succeed in his new form, he had to try. His former mechanical build had been too damaged for her to possess any sense of how he had interacted with the world prior to the crash, and he’d clearly never inhabited flesh. Therefore, their cumulative knowledge hovered around zero.
Qalu wasn’t the sort to give up easily, which explained ten cycles of devotion to work that had yet to bloom fully. The rest of her clan had resigned themselves to her “tinkering,” and they mostly ignored her efforts or expressed amusement at her infinite perseverance. “Anyone else would have quit by now” summed up their sentiment, and she relished how startled they would be when they realized she had succeeded at last.
I can’t take credit right away. Not until Helix is an unqualified success. I must teach him to be Tiralan.