3G: the Glowing Green Goo

Zax warned Bathor via message that he would be accompanied. It was purely informative; he didn’t ask for accommodations, although he did mention that Garuka might be interested in their mutations.

The next day, Zax started on the mice, it would keep his mind busy. As expected, his roommates had named the members of the control group. The scientist wannabe actively didn’t remember their names, as he didn’t want to use them. It would be unfair to their siblings.

First the usual, models of their bodies and mapping of their brain activities. Their less complex neural network might mean fewer than three days for the brain scan, but he didn’t want to risk it. He wasn’t in a hurry, and he could begin without. The exercises also helped to establish a baseline for their attributes, and get started in establishing a database for mouse-skill patterns. The raw data could be analysed once the mapping was complete.

His experiments would replace his daily hour of study; it didn’t make sense to do both when one was a more directed version of the other. Said study had included practical exercises he hadn’t had the chance to try, so that was the obvious second step. However, with nine test subjects, this vein was exhausted in two days. It greatly solidified his understanding of nanite-to-nanite and nanite-to-organism interactions, though, which was the point. It also gave him hints to proceed on, and even to improve his daily uses.

This technology has even more potential than I ever fathomed.

… Did teacher know?

He wouldn’t put it was the secretive woman, but he didn’t dwell on it. It would not be a pleasant distraction.

His first experiment was a direct improvement of his own neural interface. The design he was currently using was basically a computer made of nanites, diffused in his brain and plugged in his sensory nerves. Exchanges were made through a special chip – made of nanites too; he didn’t want to have his skull open to put it there, even now that he knew about surgery. The natural and artificial may share their physical space and senses, but they processed data separately and only communicated through a single point of contact, usually with already processed information. Technically, only the sensory nanites and exchange chip had to be in the brain, the rest could be anywhere; even outside his body, but it was beside the point.

“The plan is to replace one large computer with two smaller modules, multiplying the communication points by as much.” He explained when SG came to watch him. “Each module will independently handle the section it is connected to, with a self-improving algorithm. If everything goes fine, I will allow the blocks to communicate with each other; hopefully improving the process further. Then, hopefully, I’ll keep adding more and making them smaller and smaller, depending on the results.”

“That, makes sense.” The apprentice nodded politely. “Doesn’t seem that risky…”

“Hm, sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? But don’t be fooled. The nanites could send a signal to blink and end up stopping its heart. Life and death are literally one tiny pulse or one nerve crossroad apart. That’s how complex the brain is.”

“… Scary.” The feathered girl looked at the subject with a complicated expression. Pity was predominant.

“Better them than you.” Zax reasoned to appease her. It didn’t work. “I don’t think they are at risk with this experiment though. I do have some experience dabbling with grey matter. I know I can’t change an established neural network, nor its natural bio-chemistry, but I hope to end up with body and machine as a single entity, so tightly bound it’s impossible to tell where which part of the thinking process comes from.”

“How far, will you go?” She kept longingly looking at the male-female pair chosen for this experiment.

“I guess until… uh. I don’t know? Until each cell had its own module? Several modules per cell? Maybe I can add out-of-brain modules, for support? That was a great question, but before I consider stopping, I need a proof of concept. I don’t even know if it can work.”

The question also reminded him of others he hadn’t considered in a while: how many nanites could the brain be imbued with before it became dangerous? What about the rest of the body? Each organ?

This experiment would be simpler: continuous feeding of nanites and monitoring, until something unexpected or different happened. It would let him see that limit he had learnt about but never dared to get too close to, and the consequences of ignoring it.

SG didn’t stay for that experiment, or any of the others. Aran stopped asking about ‘his’ mice at around the same time too.

He chose two more rodents of opposite sex for the second experiment. Each individual was paired with a dedicated B-box, neatly set aside above their living space, labelled with their experiment number, test number and ID tag. Even those not yet used in experiments, he just kept the relevant section blank.

Amusingly, performing the physical and mental exercises took longer than programming the nanites. Working on his regular job in the mornings didn’t accelerate the proceedings either. Not exactly an issue; for complex or sensitive tasks, the tiny workers took hours to fully set in their place anyway.

With two of the five remaining subjects, the scientist would push his pattern imprinting. Make it deeper, stronger, more complex. It was rough, but it would be directly useable. He would check for side effects and any anomaly, no matter how small.

The last three would be used to study the process and limits of the meditation effect, this state of unexplained synchronicity between the nanites of different hosts. He would prioritize whichever pair showed the most … Resonance? Harmony?

He would need a name for the effect, but it would come later, when he understood it better. He had so many questions. Could it be forced? Prevented? Could they maintain it outside meditation? Could they exchange data this way? Perceptions? Ideas?

Zax had seldom felt so inspired; he was overflowing with ideas, even if they were beyond his current ability. Or impossible. That was also a possibility.

He had already established he couldn’t change an established neural network, but what about a non-established one? That meant direct control of its development, in the womb. Was that possible? What about making one from scratch? And why stop at the brain? He could try to optimise everything from their genesis! And that was without considering genetic manipulation; although this beast he wouldn’t touch with a dot-length pole.

The thought jolted Zax out of his daydreaming. He forced himself to stay calm and write his ideas down, for when they could be more than between a child’s wishful thinking and a lunatic’s rambling.

For now, using his time as efficiently as possible was the name of the game.

In a way, the situation might be a blessing in disguise. Since he had to reduce his custom commission queue, he had more free time for his projects. They required less interaction with the subjects than expected too. Most of the time was spent following their general health, analysing the data and adapting to the results, which he could do anytime, from anywhere.

Afterwork, the free running lessons continued, but they had exhausted the moves SG could casually do in most environments. Which was still quite a respectable number. Zax had stopped looking for new patterns, refining the ones he had instead.

“I want to resume the sleep learning thing.” Aran asked one night.

“Why?” was Zax’s reasonable reaction. “You’re improving by bounds and leaps,” SG giggled at the pun. “and you already caught up with me.”

“I did?” The tailed girl blinked.

“When was the last time I had to give you a pointer during a lesson?”

“… a while.” She replied after some thought. “I didn’t even notice. But my progress is slowing down. I can tell, and I don’t like it.”

“Guess tracking your stats live isn’t that good when they don’t go up enough.” Zax chuckled. It was an unexpected, but unsurprising result of the Stat Maker.

Games must be played with moderation.

At this point, the mice had confirmed the lack of side effect from his “standard imprint”, so he had no issue with it.

Through trial and error, they also determined an optimal number of patterns per night and frequency of repetition. Too much and they mixed up, too often and they were lost or overwrote each other. It was hard to determine with uncommunicative mice.

The training session that revealed this limit had been long and frustrating.

Incidentally, the foxy girl never developed a headache nor had another accidental overachievement, despite being a lot more familiar with all the moves. Or maybe because she was? It couldn’t be because of the process; it hadn’t been changed. Maybe she had gotten used to it?

He hadn’t tried to make it happen on purpose yet. Not enough data. Fancy words for “he didn’t know how”.

At home, Aran and SG took care of and played with their pets. With an actual teacher and first-hand experience, they got their pet-handling licence in no time. Some parts made them uneasy, mostly the “in case of sickness” and “after death” parts, but they were ineluctable. It truly drove home how they were not playing with toys, but taking care of actual, living creatures.

“Bringing them to a licenced facility? Well, duh.” Aran mocked.

“Not all healing centre have what it takes to take care of non-human anatomy or physiology. You can’t just go to one and hope it’ll all be dandy.” Zax tempered.

“What kind of madman would throw a body in the toilets?”

“Keeping parts as a memento!?”

Some other parts were unpleasant because they had to be mentioned at all.

Aran and SG shivered in disgust at some of the ideas they were presented with. Zax didn’t have it in him to mention how common it must be to be included in official regulations.

It didn’t damper their spirits though. The first thing they did with their licence was to make the apartment fully pet-accessible.

That size of pet wasn’t allowed outside specially made spaces; they risked escaping in hard-to-reach places, reproduce uncontrollably, and damaging the electrical network. A great danger for the dot and themselves, and that was before taking the risk of mutation into account if they stumbled upon 3G.

Clip-on see-through tubes were proudly bought with their own salary, from suppliers only accessible to licence owners. Only dead-ends to expand the beasties’ world for now. The apartment at least, which was spacious for such puny creatures. They connected to the pet living space and ran along walls and counter.

Plans for a more complete network and secondary living spaces were already being made. Zax curved his roommates’ eagerness by reminding them of the added effort and expenses it would demand, and that he wouldn’t help, financially or otherwise. He advised to wait and see if they could handle the current situation first, but didn’t try to stop them otherwise.

“Look, there’s a mini elevator!”

“They can learn to use electric door?”

“This set makes noise and lights when they run it though. Look, there’s a demo!”

“They can make music!?”

Even if he refused to participate, it was endearing to watch his friends have fun.

Aran also updated her character sheet – because of course she did – counting her new licence as a level 1 skill. Zax had to admit, the thought had escaped him, which led him to ask about her WIL project. They hadn’t talked about it in a while, but Aran regularly bounced back ideas for improvement with SG.

It was easy to forget, but her background had made her familiar with what willpower did and how it felt. They didn’t dwell on the details, but talking more about her experiences couldn’t be a bad thing. Win-win.

Zax kept checking nothing could make the nanites dangerous, and he had to admit the choice of measurable parameters made sense, as did the equations using them. They didn’t exactly have a scientific basis, but it was at least coherent.

On a whim, he decided to buy the add-on too. He knew first-hand how harmless it was, and both girls already had theirs.

Outside the lessons, games and pet husbandry, SG kept playing with the adjusting machine between commissions. As her familiarity increased, she could express her creativity in new and interesting ways. Her proficiency had plateaued, confirming the impact of the pattern imprint, but she was quickly as skilled as a two stars adjuster. She only had to fulfil the required hours of practical application and number of pieces, and she would be officially certified. She still didn’t care for clothing adjustment as a career, but the feeling of progress was reassuring.

It wasn’t the only reason to continue either. While browsing online for inspiration, the apprentice had stumbled on a section of the main art-selling platform, that dealt with artistic sheets like she was making.

“I know that platform, but I never knew they sold that.” The teacher stated.

“It says here, ‘apprentices, showing off their training’.” Crouched, she pointed a curved claw on a section of the holographic screen.

“That would explain it. I never used that skill creatively, and I left the company that trained me before I was two stars.” The comment drew a snicker from the feathered girl. “I’m not an artistic guy. Bite me.” Zax played along with a smirk. “Can’t be that popular, or seasoned professionals would participate. Retired ones too. Definitely the retired ones. Or maybe it’s a new trend? Want to try?”

SG twisted her head to the side and blinked, confused.

“Do you want to put your training sheets for sale? We can add that to your possible commissions too, if there’s a demand.” He explained.

The bashful girl was hesitant at first, but her friends’ comfort let her give it a try. They were right, it wouldn’t cost her anything.

It was slow going, but pieces were selling here and there, and it was all Zax and Aran needed to set SG up as a freelance artist. It gave potential customers somewhere to see all her former pieces, a place to gather and discuss more freely, and she wouldn’t have to pay a commission to the platform for every sale.

If she used her own money to buy her own adjusting machine and materials, it could even be an independent source of revenue. Not enough to live on yet, but it was a step towards self-sufficiency, and it was even something she found pleasure in.

It was not the only venue either. As she opened emotionally to the world, her free running demonstrations looked more and more like a dance. Both disciples had already commented on her growing elegance, but it took a surprise round of applause from a passing family to convince her.

It had only happened occasionally, when she pushed herself and managed to forget where she was. This time, she wasn’t even trying!

“That was awesome!”

“What’s your channel?” The two children approached her when the spectacle was over, their parents smiling fondly just behind them.

“Hm, Er-”

“Haha, she doesn’t have one yet, but keep looking. It’s coming sooner than later.” Aran flew to rescue her fumbling friend.

The encounter had been a shock to the acrobat, but the idea of a channel had stuck with her, for some reason. From then on, many of the free running lessons were punctuated with short acrobatic dances, recorded by the three sets of brain-nanites, saved in a public part of her personal account and broadcasted on the social networks. Her following soared, and Aran had a blast editing the videos. It also helped with the neural patterns; same moves with a wildly different mindset.

More importantly, it seemed to unlock something in her, because she was talking more openly since. It was like… she was occasionally forgetting what she was always so afraid of. She claimed something about the whole dance-and-broadcast feeling liberating, although she didn’t fully understand it herself.

Interesting choice of word.

In any case, she was acting… not like a new person, but at least another version of their winged friend. One who was… happy. To be there. To be alive.

A simple glance between Zax and Aran, and they knew what the other thought of this joy.

It was brittle little thing, and they would definitely protect it.

All in all, it had been a busy, but fulfilling, one week and some since the Resident’s visit.

The worry about the trip had successfully been put to rest. It only came back in force when it was time to go.