3G: the Glowing Green Goo

Withdraw points were a touchy topic for the dot. They were unavoidable, arguably the most important aspect of anyone’s life, but also unspeakably dangerous to its continuous operation.

Unless special cases, the only reason a dotter would have to withdraw 3G was for immediate use. More 3G in the body was a no-brainer requirement to mutate. No surprise, the areas surrounding the points witnessed a great deal of activations. As paltry as they could be, repeated exposure would still be lethal to anything electronic.

Over time, a balance had been found. The points were spread strategically, and any construction nearby had strict requirements. Storage of non-perishable goods and raw material were common options.

In typical dot fashion, the withdraw points were simple, efficient and practical. From the outside, it was mere lights, buttons and splits in the wall. Dials set the desired action; deposit or withdrawal, the later with hard units or direct use options. The user ID and amount of 3G were set by pushbuttons. Above was a split flap display with simple status messages and instructions. Next to them was a simple lightbulb, and not the common type covered in tiny mushroom, a fully electric one. A hole sat below the rest, large enough to put a fist in with room to spare. It would welcome the exchanged substance or chips. On the side, seldom used, was a wider square opening to let people throw used chips and stacks.

“It’s as simple and mechanical as possible, but still controlled by the Main Computer.” Zax explained as they waited for their turn. “Your ID tells it who is asking and how much you have in your account. The status messages will tell you if you overdraw, but for more details you’ll have to check your balance yourself.”

SG nodded her understanding as each information was delivered, but didn’t raise her eyes from the ground. An advanced mutant in the dot was strange, but an advanced mutant who had never seen a withdraw point before? That didn’t make sense and attracted a lot more attention than usual. Fortunately, Aran and Zax kept the agitation at a minimum. Inside and out.

“The light shows the machine is currently turned off, to protect it from activations. You’re supposed to turn it back on when you’re done. It’s not a written rule, just common courtesy. In the same way, don’t block the queue even if you need to check your account. Especially since you’re supposed to turn your bracelet off around here, or it risks being destroyed.”

“It’s on the signs.” Aran reminded. There were a few on the way and even one above the dispenser.

“Same once you’ve got your dose. If you didn’t activate, standing there won’t help. The rest is common sense.”

“Normal stuffs. Don’t look above others’ shoulders. Don’t rush them. Don’t touch them without consent. That kind of thing.”

Once they were close enough, SG could finally watch the process. It was always the same, but she was alert every time someone put their hand in the hole. She couldn’t see, but if she focused, she could barely make out the sound of metal sliding and the occasional plop of something viscous. No glugging however, and the woman in front of them had loudly declared she’d put a large amount.

Right, they had mentioned something about that a few days ago. In contact with organic matter, the 3G acted less like a liquid and more like a full ‘whatever shape’ balloon emptying itself at the contact point. The more area, the faster, and something about not everyone having the same speed? Yes, that sounded right.

After the initial contact, the 3G wouldn’t make a noise no matter the amount.

Their turn arrived as she was pondering, and Zax demonstrated a seldom-seen deposit. The dial settings were self-explanatory, and he let her look in the hole as he put his few stacks of units in appropriate inlets.

She was so focused on the aperture she didn’t notice him pushing the start button. The noise as the units were taken in was sudden and made her reflexively pull back. She glared the them, but Zax and Aran chuckled as they all moved aside.

“To consume individual units, it’s simple. Pinch the frame thrice on opposing sides with your nails, as if you wanted to flatten the circle. One, two-” Zax demonstrated with a chip he had kept. “See? From transparent green to glass-like. It should also work if you pinch between your teeth; I never tried. I don’t know where it’s been.”

In a fit of not-childlike-at-all whimsiness, he put it in from of his eyes and pretended to wave at the winged girl through a window. “Hello!”

Her glare didn’t last.

“Doesn’t seem impossible to take more than one at a time.” She forced seriousness in her voice. “And hard to use without hands.” She motioned with hers.

“One per hand would work, I guess,” He shrugged, “but that’s still only two. Four if you add mutated feet. Half a stack if you add the teeth. Any significant amount does require tools. Or mutations, but I struggle to imagine one centred around using more chips at once. For the hand thing, that’s why the teeth work too. If you have neither… your mutation is so advanced you don’t wanna take units one by one, I bet.”

Aran giggled at the image.

“Lastly, don’t forget to throw the chip in appropriate containers so they’re reused. It’s a waste to make new ones. I already wasted the 3G by using it on myself.” He concluded, joining action to his words. The sound of a metal piece hitting a mostly empty bin rang from the angular opening. “Any question? Do you want to withdraw something for yourself?”

SG looked at the queue behind them and shook her head. She had learnt what she had to and she was glad for it, but she didn’t think she had much and she was more than mutated enough already.

“Great! Now, parkour!” Aran exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. “I’ve been waiting for that all day. Where are we going? The gym?”

Her first lesson in free running was the original plan for the evening, and most evenings in the foreseeable future. The gym was a sensible idea, but Zax led them to the autumn park instead. The red and oranges were pleasing to the eyes, but the unique fragrance always soothed him.

More to the point:

“SG had never come here, and the fallen leaves will be perfect for lesson one: landing.” Zax explained his choice.

Aran wanted to jump to the interesting part, but both teachers were adamant it had to be done first.

They started their warmup with a long jog around the park, looking for an appropriate spot.

They had tried jogging on the way to the park, but they quickly learnt SG running in the street was better avoided. Unlike what her acrobatics would suggest, her talons didn’t have a great range of movement. Traction and griping? An abundance. Flexibility? Basically non-existent; it all was in her human parts. It made her running gait… a polite person would call it awkward. A less polite person could say wacky. Maybe farcical if they felt fancy. Straight lines were not too unskilful, but to change direction, she needed to turn her whole trunk. Her wings helped with balance and coordination, but busy sidewalks simply weren’t a place she could race in without causing a significant disturbance.

Interesting.

Zax had missed that effect when studying her model.

Considering the result, a small price to pay. Probably.

In the park, where she had room to move without hindrance, her mobility was nothing if not impressive. Vaults and aerial acrobatics weren’t her only forte. Even off the maintained path, she could navigate all obstacles like a fish in water. Her stamina wasn’t at the same level, but still above average. Above the two dotters, at least.

They eventually found a fitting playground, with playsets at various heights and a layer of smooth gravel on the ground. It was made to let children fall safely, but it would work for adults too. A few younglings were playing, with parents watching or discussing on benches circling the area. The heaps of leaves wouldn’t be used, but nobody regretted the trip.

As usual, the feathery girl caught eyes, but they quickly went back to their games.

The lesson went both more smoothly and more difficultly than expected. SG had never taught before, and she had learnt by trial and error. What she saw as obvious, wasn’t always. Zax would handle the basics, and she would pipe in from time to time. The idea was to have her intervene more and more as the level increased. Aran would catch up with Zax and they would both train under SG, if it was still required.

They had to slow down to let Zax focus on the skill book project. He had kept the name, he found it amusing. The night before, he had given them nanites of each type he had. Where they only had measuring and recording types before, they now had stimulating ones, a few C-nanites for completion’s sake, and a few others. They would remain dormant until required.

Connected to the two B-boxes on his person, the handyman had them do the same movements together, followed by doing the same landing exercises. For SG, it was so trivial it barely registered above normal activity, which ironically helped separate it from the excellently hidden stress of being watched by so many young eyes. Drawing parallels wasn’t complicated, but where to go from there? He had a few ideas, but only one he could test immediately.

By the time they left the park, they knew stimulating the peripheral nervous system was not the solution, and they had confirmation Zax’s nanites would never be able to secretly puppeteer someone. It might theoretically be possible, but it would require saturating every nerve with nanites, along with specialised hardware and software, and to coordinate everything at the same level an actual brain did. He had no idea what computation power would be required.

As things stood, spending all the charge of their nanites was unpleasant, uncomfortable – and creepy – but ultimately inoffensive. Wouldn’t even make a finger twitch.

Still, it was progress, and the actual lesson hadn’t been lost either; with preparation, Aran was now able to land on any solid surface, from any angle, from a bit more than twice her height. She still had a hard time forcing herself to jump from there, but it could only improve with experience.

Once they were home and had recuperated from the exertion, Zax recharged their nanites and set new ones in their brains. SG didn’t mind since she had some experience. Aran had been reluctant at first, but the idea of a real-life skill book equivalent was too enticing to give up.

Even if the skill would still require actual effort. Zax made sure to manage her expectations.

He would use the three days until their brains were analysed to research whatever seemed useful. He had had to learn some neurology to develop his neural interface, but while it gave him strong foundations, it was too general and far from enough for their purpose.

SG thought her map would be done faster, but it had been more than three days since she had her brain recorded. Her neuro-chemistry had been totally renewed; it would have to be mapped again from scratch. Her old recordings could help with some functions, but not what they needed.

The day’s group meditation didn’t show much improvement, but there were no complaints. With their activities during the rest of the day, it was nice to relax together.

The next day, the Resident was back in the shop with the acclaimed list. It wasn’t a surprise; the warranty account had been filled during the night. Zax had to insist on an official acceptance from the anonymous account, but she didn’t resist much. Very little, actually. A token effort at best, which made him think she didn’t want to be difficult but had to for some reason.

Concerning.

She put the paper on the counter, denied any kind of personal trouble when he pried, took his confirmation he had everything he needed from her, and she left immediately. True to his word, Zax glanced at the paper, mentally had his nanites take a picture and convert it in text format, and tore it apart to dump the pieces in the most corrosive chemical he had. In less than a minute, there was no trace left and he could freely peruse it as he pursued the day normally.

At first glance, it was a mess.

Gender: Most likely female. Age: between 19 and 45.

Vague, but enough to work with.

Most likely jobs and hobbies… they were all over the place. Pointing correlations and contradictions with other sections of the list should have made his job easier, but one for every point?

It only shows you have no idea who or what you’re looking for.

How was he supposed to find it?

The list seemed made by people who only wanted to contradict one another. People who weren’t familiar with the dot either, but that one was hardly a surprise.

A nurse with violent tendencies? Wouldn’t stay a nurse. Impatient, but possibly a teacher? Not a good one, so didn’t fit with the ‘highly skilled at what they do’ point, which they were sure of. Predisposition to addiction? Irrelevant; the Main Computer was an expert at spotting and stopping self-destructive behaviours before they became a problem. An addiction would have a hard time taking root.

A second glance didn’t clear things up.

‘Fat’ and ‘skinny’ had the same probability. Besides the width of the statements, why include them if it wasn’t going to narrow the choices down?

If it’s important, gather them in a single “not of healthy weight” or something.

At the third glance, the handyman chose to believe some of the points were red herrings, added to hide who they were actually looking for.

It would fit, they hadn’t explained how the list had been made, or what they wanted from that person of interest. He had to justify his findings even if they were unconclusive, based on the list. It would take a lot of his time, but he was paid by the hour regardless of the result so he didn’t lose anything.

Even with AI assistance, it would take a while, and he was familiar with the tools and databases he would need. Bathor knew what she was looking for, but nothing else, and she had lasted three days before asking for help. It was a testament to her stubbornness; she rose in his esteem.