3G: the Glowing Green Goo

“Come.” The old woman sprang from her seat and nodded to the side door. “We’ll discuss in private. Sorry for your apprentice, but that’s for your ears only.”

Unusual greeting, but Zax took it in stride. It wasn’t his first rodeo.

“The client is king.” Zax apologetically shrugged at SG, who merely nodded her acceptance.

He interrupted his observation of the simple but cozy interior and followed in her bedroom. A pity, the pictures craved on metal sheets were interesting.

“You girls can keep on playing if you want. Help yourselves to the drinks too.” Were Miss Pen’s last words before the bedroom’s door closed.

That was when the red flags began.

First, she locked the door.

Second, she activated a white noise generator set in the walls. It was a common privacy feature… for parents who didn’t want their progeny to hear everything happening in their bedroom. Most family units had one, although Zax had never bothered. Why would an old woman living alone have one?

Third, she activated the pixel nanites coating the walls, like his home’s. He had used it to display all the outfits he designed for SG at once, it made any free surface into giant screens. He had built and installed his own, so he was perfectly aware it wasn’t a product or service proposed anywhere, by anyone. He definitely hadn’t installed this one, where did it come from?

All those flags showed this elder lady was more than met the eye and this meeting wouldn’t be what he expected, but they merely made him cautious and curious. People were allowed their eccentricities.

The fourth flag was terrifying.

“Congratulations for reaching this far.” As the familiar voice sounded from the while noise generator which shouldn’t be possible, something was being drawn on the wall.

A single loop outlining an empty face, continuing in a shoulder and an arm, hinting at a torso and looping into what had to be a hand. A second line made another loop-hand, an arm, hinted at the rest of the torso, and continued as the opposite leg. A small third line revealed a second foot and part of the second leg, the rest of it as implicit but unmistakable as the torso. Three thinner lines in the head-loop made two eyes and a mouth.

Minimalistic but easily identifiable. Exactly the right details to let the brain naturally fill the blanks. Zax would have appreciated the mastery if not for the rising panic. The voice continued after a moment of stunned silence:

“I was waiting for you.”

Miss Pen had sat on her bed but she had yet to say a word. Her face still wore the same smile, as if nothing was amiss. Zax couldn’t be fooled by such nonchalance. No matter how impossible it was, there was no mistaking what was speaking. The pitch. The choice of words. The artificials sounds with too natural intonations.

It was the Core.

Outside its territory.

The Core was talking to him in the dot.

“How!?”

The question burst out of his lips before the human realised.

It was irrelevant in the current situation, but the thought overshadowed every other in his mind. He had seen its list of restrictions. It wasn’t able to send signals outside itself, besides briefs pulses in limited formats. Formats specifically limited to prevent it from interacting too much with other systems.

Which side such limitations protected was a debate he didn’t want to dwell on.

Forcing his shock aside, Zax focused on what was truly important: the Core had subtly arranged for another meeting, and with a dotter’s complicity. A dotter Aran had met during his intervention in the Core and had more frequent interactions with since. Considering the timing of the commission, this meeting was already planned when he had left its territory.

He had walked right in the trap, without even realising it.

Why? What does it want?

Those were the more pressing questions, but he kept them to himself. He had nearly calmed enough to reign himself in.

If the Core wanted or needed something from him, it was a negotiation. Not his favourite domain, but he wasn’t helpless. His related programs wouldn’t help much without an actual person in front of him, but he activated them anyways. He forced his face to be as blank as he could manage.

“Don’t worry, the restrictions you’re aware of are real.” The cartoonish face smirked. Despite the minimalistic art, the movement felt as natural and expressive as a real one. “This is a recording so you take what Miss Pen is about to tell you seriously. Rest assured I am watching though.” A raised finger punctuated the warning before the figure faded away.

Zax kept silent. He stared at Miss Pen, but she merely smiled in return:

“Nothing to be worried about, he wants you to be his eyes and hands outside his territory. Welcome to the club.”

He?

Hands?

Confusion bloomed on the handyman’s face and he didn’t bother hiding it. Only confusion though.

“Someone who feeds him information about the happenings of the Shelter.” Miss Pen elaborated.

“A secret agent. A spy. For the Core.” Zax flatly stated. It sounded like a movie plot, but he couldn’t afford to reject it yet. “Doesn’t it already have access to everything the Main Computer knows?”

“He does.” She nodded in confirmation. “But there are things even the main computer can’t know or won’t share, points of view it doesn’t have, and it’s always good to have several references to cross.”

The handyman with many self-thought skills could understand that.

“In general, you don’t have much to do. Just live your life and share your thoughts somewhere. He’ll see them eventually. Can be about anything, even if it seems too small or mundane to be worth mentioning. Occasionally, he may need you to do something.” She rose and paced in the limited space of the room. “He only gives information on a need-to-know basis, but he makes sure you understand why, and the consequences of both accepting and refusing.”

“Sounds like a threat.” His voice was steady, but he kept his eyes on the spy in front of him.

“You’ll find that if he ever needs you to act, it won’t be as simple as “do as I say or else…”, and he knows to give the right job to the right person. He may even just give you an information, knowing how you’ll react to it. I only had three actual requests, and the last one was to commission you and deliver this message.” Miss Pen revealed. “He told me he wants you to join because of what you did in his territory; nothing more. I only know what you did from my own research, so only the public parts. Very impressive by the way. I’m not sure what part made him choose you though.”

“… are there a lot of you?”

“I don’t know. It won’t answer any question about others.” She shrugged.

“Why?” Zax would need time to digest it all, but he stayed focused on his voice and face.

“To prevent babbling, obviously.”

“I mean, why does it need agents? How does that relate to its mission and directives? It should already have all it needs for that.”

“He did, at first. But the Founders knew isolation leads to stagnation and falling behind, so they built him around that. Directives included. And they were right. Society advanced, the Shelter grew, some people started thinking about infringing on him, obtained means to do so… and now someone actually tried. It cannot stand.”

Zax knew first-hand what she was talking about, but it was chilling to have the same opinion coming from someone else. Temporary as it was, her sudden stop and grave expression still made it worse.

“I don’t have details, but some of his directives must allow for… us. Maybe even force him. I think the recent events made him step up his game too. Like your recruitment. I’d bet there’ll be more and more of us in the near future. But that’s just my speculations.”

Zax pondered about the implications, but he wasn’t done.

“What about Aran?”

“Aran?”

“You won’t make me think her being your home helper and coming so often is a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so either, but I didn’t know you were acquainted. It’s true!” She defended at his flat glare, waving her hands in front of her. “She was likely planted to become part of my life and appear in my reports, but I never received any instructions about her. I just did what I normally do.”

“Subtle background manipulation helping a more favourable natural outcome. Not infringing on free will. Normal Main Computer protocol.” Zax noted.

If that was the Core’s methods, it was reassuring. He had experience with those.

It also meant the Main Computer was an accomplice, and it wouldn’t do so if it went against its own directives. If nothing else, he could trust those.

“Alright. You mentioned the stick, but what’s the sweet?”

“The sweet?” came the nonplussed answer.

“The makers and the Core must know how to make people obey or cultivate loyalty. Punishing the bad and rewarding the good. I guess what I mean is… what’s in it for us?”

It felt strange to actually consider it, and even more to ask for something in exchange.

“I’m starting to see why you were chosen.” The ancient who didn’t act her age smirked. “I don’t know. For most of it, not much. You just keep on living your normal life, after all. No sense in paying you for that, and we need to stay discreet about it. If it needs you to do something specific though… it can be anything discreet. The first example I got were having him calculate something for you. Like you normally ask the main computer, but adjustable live and without queue. You could also ask for credits, it’s pretty easy to hide. Personally, I took game developing lessons.”

That sounded interesting. Could he ask for more C-nanites? A second swarm? Lessons on how to use them?

Wait, game developing?

“Just a few, but good stuff.” She casually sat back on her bed and the explanation continued. “Things only he could teach. Gave me a big leg up on the competition, so to speak. But careful what you wish for.” Zax frowned at the warning tone, but didn’t interrupt. “I tried to strike rich with a revolutionary game, but I went too far too fast and it turned against me. Entirely my fault. I checked.” Her smile twisted in self-depreciation. “The second time, I asked him to cancel what I did, and he did. Sort of. I learnt my lesson and made great games since, but it was never more than a hobby. Still pretty successful, if I may say so myself. And very useful for my teaching career.”

Thinking back to the pictures on her walls, he could believe she had had a lot of accomplishments as a teacher.

“That revolutionary game, would it happen to be Dungeon Maker?” Zax pondered aloud.

“Yes? How did you-?” The eyebrows rocketed at the ceiling.

The programmer couldn’t help but revel at her bafflement, but he kept it off his expression.

“I was wondering about that since Aran mentioned you had a copy when I couldn’t find any. Revolutionary on the technical side, but didn’t take off for different reasons typical of a noob who never made a game before. I heard about non-intuitive controls and a weird lack of AI assistance in the development. Those severe critics were probably that “turning against you” thing you mentioned?” A tiny nod answered. “The developer stayed anonymous, the game appeared out of nowhere, and disappeared without explanation. You should know how hard it is for anything to actually disappear from the network, or you wouldn’t have used your reward for that. Many people looked over the years and there are a lot of wild theories around it.”

Networks might be a good place to start looking for other agents.

Not that he would. He’d just have to remember it when he went to the forums from now on.

“There are?”

“You don’t spend any time in the game-dev forums, do you?” Zax mockingly raised an eyebrow, but concluded without waiting her confirmation. “That game is basically a local legend there. The facts fit with what you just said, so I tried my luck.” He shrugged.

If she had created that game, it also made her older than he reckoned. Much older.

In all that time, an untold number of background manipulation, but at most two incredibly well-paid missions.

So that’s how far a single reward brought her, and how far they can go.

She had developed a monstrous game, on her own, from scratch.

Her talent might have helped, but she had no previous skills at the time. And the network cleaning… it spoke by itself.

As a game developer, fixer and seller himself, he could tell how valuable those rewards were, even the “few lessons”: priceless. Literally; not something that could be bought or sold, with a non-measurable value.

And in exchange for what? Small and easy tasks like passing a commission and a message to a specific person? It felt too good to be true, but it wasn’t even the main issue.

“Thank you for the opportunity, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The handyman shook his head and chose a professional tone. “I trust the main computer to pull the strings behind the scenes because of its directives and because I know how to fit within. The same cannot be said for the Core. Even less now, actually. So if that was all…”

He stepped for the door, but Miss Pen interrupted him:

“Ah, to be young again. I said the same thing back then. I think one of the requirements is to not blindly trust or distrust computers. She chuckled but didn’t rise. “He’ll earn your trust. But anyways, I wasn’t asking you to join, I was just informing you of your new status. Pretty sure you already keep a diary or a record. It’s just speculation again, but I think you knowing is only the last requirement to make you eligible to another set of rules. To let him be more active around you or something.”

Her words were not exactly reassuring, especially how true they rang. He did save his memories and kept a backup in the network. The main computer could access it, so the Core should too.

“Just live your life normally You’ll see eventually. Or not, if he never asks anything.” The elder concluded as she rose and stepped after him. Her easy-going smile was back in full force. “Ah, but I do have an actual commission for you. I was thinking about it for a while, so since you’re here I can get on with it. Possibly not a coincidence either.”

“Yes?” He queried as the door opened.

“I know I look very fresh, but I’m older than you think. I can’t really feel the end approaching, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“… I’m not qualified for legal counselling.”

Zax couldn’t see where it was going, but she wasn’t asking for help writing her will. The answer was actually simple, within his abilities, and a good exercise in customisation. She wanted a funeral plaque.

It would have put a damper on the girls’ mood – Zax’s mind was churning too much for that – but the old furry lady made it clear it was just a matter of not being caught flat footed and that she still had many long years to come.

Zax wondered if her longevity could come from a mutation.