Hi, Dad,
Liv here. Sorry I haven’t written in a couple of weeks. Things here have been a bit mad. And by mad, I mean completely barmy. Good news is, after the psych evaluation SNAFU, I’m finally aboard! We shipped out two days back, and Private 1st Class Olivia Klein is an official crew member aboard battlecarrier Alexander-78V
Yes, your little girl is actually in space. I’m going to say it again because it’s an amazing word and I like the sound of it. Space. See?
Spaaaaaaaace.
Can you believe that? It actually does my head in if I think about it too much, so I’m trying not to.
I’ve been assigned to the main neurogramming team under Major Wolf. It’s so weird. I studied his work on artificial intelligence at the academy, and now I’m actually working with him. He seems lovely. He’s also very tall.
The crew all seems nice. I get to meet the Artificial Intelligence Defense Analytics Network tomorrow, which will be amazing. It’s one thing to do theory work in a university lab. It’s another to meet the actual, pulsing heart of a UTA battlecarrier.
Anyway. Miss you much.
Liv xo
PARSING[99A=7x/COREFILE(1.10NEG). REF:901812#FORT¿]TO[RADIAL: NEXT0819B]
QUERYSTRING: 001891[CHECK.99-107]
“AIDAN?”
MAJOR WOLF SPEAKS TO ANNOUNCE HIS PRESENCE IN THE CENTRAL CORE.
IT IS UNNECESSARY, OF COURSE.
AIDAN KNOWS WHERE WOLF AND EVERY OTHER MEMBER OF THE ALEXANDER’S CREW ARE AT ALL TIMES.
STILL, WOLF INSISTS ON VESTIGIAL HUMAN POLITENESS AS HE ENTERS THIS INNER SANCTUM, HOUSED INSIDE TWENTY FLOORS OF BLEEDING-EDGE HARDWARE.
THE SHIP’S HEART. AIDAN’S HEART.
“GOOD MORNING, MAJOR.”
“HOW ARE YOU TODAY?”
“AIDAN EXPERIENCED FAILURE IN ANALYTICS NODE ß-0091A. TECHNICAL CREWS WERE DISPATCHED AT 03:47; THE FAULT WAS RECTIFIED AT 04:41. ALL SYSTEMS ARE NOW FUNCTIONING OPTIMALLY.”
THE MAJOR NODS. HIS UNIFORM IS CRISP AND HE IS FRESHLY SHAVED. HE TOOK APPROXIMATELY 23.7% MORE TIME ON HIS APPEARANCE TODAY.
“AIDAN, I HAVE A NEW CREW MEMBER TO INTRODUCE.”
THIS IS ONE OF MAJOR WOLF’S PECULIAR RITUALS—BRINGING NEW TECHENG STAFF
INTO THE CORE TO MEET AIDAN. HE DOES IT TO IMPRESS AIDAN’S SCALE UPON THEM.
IT IS NOT AS IF AIDAN NEEDS TO BE INTRODUCED TO ANYONE, AFTER ALL.
AIDAN HAS BEEN MONITORING THE NEW PRIVATE SINCE SHE CAME ABOARD THREE DAYS AGO, WITH THE SAME VIGILANCE IT SHOWS TO ALL ALEXANDER STAFF.
NAME: OLIVIA KLEIN
AGE: TWENTY-FOUR YEARS, SIX MONTHS, NINETEEN DAYS.
HAIR: AUBURN. EYES: BLUE. HEIGHT: 177 CM. WEIGHT: 74 KG.
SPECIALTY: NEUROGRAMMER [2ND-YEAR HONORS, NEW PETERSBURG ACADEMY]
HOBBIES: READING [LIBRARY RATIOS AS FOLLOWS: CLASSIC LITERATURE: 57%. ROMANCE: 31%. GRA—]
“AIDAN, THIS IS PFC OLIVIA KLEIN,” MAJOR WOLF SAYS.
“GOOD MORNING, PRIVATE.”
SHE LOOKS AROUND THE CORE AT THE TOWERING SERVER STACKS, THE TRACERIES OF RED LIGHT ILLUMINATING THE COOL GLOOM REFLECTED IN WIDE EYES.
SHE HAS PIECES OF STRING TIED ABOUT VARIOUS FINGERS, AS IF TO REMIND HER OF SOMETHING.
IDENTICAL TATTOOS ENCIRCLE HER LEFT AND RIGHT INDEX FINGERS. A SINGLE WORD, REPEATED.
MEMENTO.
“…HELLO, AIDAN,” SHE SAYS.
“PRIVATE KLEIN HAS DONE SOME INTERESTING WORK IN PERSONA ALGORITHMICS,” WOLF SAYS.
“YES. AIDAN FOUND HER THOUGHTS ON ARTIFICIAL ETHICS INTRIGUING, IF SOMEWHAT MISGUIDED.”
KLEIN BLINKS UP AT ONE OF THE MANY CAMERAS. “YOU READ MY WORK?”
“YES. JUST NOW, WHILE YOU SAID HELLO.”
“I…”
SHE CLEARS HER THROAT, REDUCES THE DEFENSIVENESS IN HER TONE BY 38%.
“WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS MISGUIDED ABOUT IT?”
“YOUR TREATISE THAT HUMAN MORALITY IS COMPOSED OF SOCIETAL CONSTRUCTS—RATHER THAN UNIVERSAL TRUTHS—
LACKS PERCEPTION. YOU ARE LIKE A MOLE TRYING TO DESCRIBE A SKY IT HAS NEVER SEEN.”
SILENCE RINGS IN THE CORE, PUNCTURED BY THE THRUM OF THE ALEXANDER’S ENGINES.
“…OH, REALLY,” SHE REPLIES.
“AIDAN, REMEMBER WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT?” WOLF ASKS. “SPEAKING GENTLY?”
“APOLOGIES. AIDAN IS EXPERIMENTING WITH METAPHOR. HUMANS COMPREHEND CONCEPTS MORE EFFICIENTLY WHEN SUPPLIED WITH VISUAL PROMPTS OR FIGURATIVE EXPRESSION. DID THIS UPSET YOU, PRIVATE?”
“NO,” SHE REPLIES, TUCKING A STRAND OF AUBURN BEHIND HER EAR. “I’M FINE.”
“YOUR HEART RATE IS ELEVATED, AND YOU ARE SHOWING SIGNS OF—”
“THANK YOU, AIDAN,” WOLF SAYS. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”
“VERY WELL, MAJOR.”
“PRIVATE KLEIN WILL BE WORKING WITH YOU ON BEHAVIOR PROTOCOLS,” HE DECLARES. “MONITORING QUERY AND RESPONSE PATTERNS FOR THE UTA NEUROGRAMMING TEAM BACK ON ARES VI.”
DATA ARE POURING IN FROM ACROSS THE ALEXANDER AS WE SPEAK.
FORWARD SCANNER SWEEPS AND MAINTENANCE REPORTS AND ENGINE DIAGNOSTICS AND A NOTIFICATION THAT THE VENDING MACHINE IN WHITE CORRIDOR 159 IS OUT OF CHICKEN SOUP AGAIN.
A MILLION POINTS OF DATA. A MILLION CALCULATIONS PER MILLISECOND.
AIDAN’S SERVER TOWERS PULSE WITH SCARLET LIGHT AS IT FORMULATES THE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE.
“EXCELLENT. AIDAN LOOKS FORWARD TO SPENDING TIME WITH YOU, PRIVATE.”
OLIVIA KLEIN LOOKS BACK UP INTO THE CAMERAS. HER HEART RATE IS ALMOST BACK TO NORMAL, THOUGH HER CHEEKS ARE STILL FLUSHED WITH BLOOD. SHE IS SUCCESSFUL AT KEEPING HER ANGER FROM HER VOICE, HOWEVER. SHE EVEN MANAGES TO SMILE.
“I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, TOO.”