Arc 2: Cloak

A couple of sweat droplets fell from my muzzle onto the display. It showed a speed of fifteen meters per second, though I couldn’t turn the resistance up any more. My legs were being propelled partly from just the sheer rotational inertia the bike had, though I was still trying to go as fast as possible.

My record was seventeen. I wasn’t going to accomplish that here, however. It took some of my focus and energy to stay upright and balanced with my paws not holding onto the handles.

The weights I was punching with were straining my arms a bit, but again, the two tasks exacerbated one another’s difficulty. Not that it was a good excuse. I had to buy an extra set of weights, however. The set that came with the bike only went up to five kilograms, and a normal pair of fifteen kilogram weights wouldn’t work due to the “proprietary wireless connection technology.”

The woman cycling on the screen had made aware that the resistance would be set to sixty-five percent, though I overwrote those instructions on the bike. The weights were also five times the prescribed mass, but again, I found that to be less of a workout and more of a yoga class.

Even my speed put me out of pace with the music that she was playing; I selected my own playlist to better fit with the rhythm I wanted. This was the most strenuous, live class that was live on the bike right now, unfortunately. I remember the ones I used to engage in were more suited towards what I considered strenuous. Nonetheless, I enjoyed being a part of the class. I would be lying if I said that topping the leaderboard of more than five thousand concurrent riders wasn’t a contributing factor.

It was also simply far more engaging than doing a scenic ride or pulling up a class that had already been broadcasted. The pack mentality, the energy from the instructor, the pride. It helped me decompress after dinner. Every punch I launched had me imagining sinking a punch into those fucking pricks earlier in the night. Blaine especially. I wanted to rip his jaw off while he was still conscious. While he was still aware of every screaming nerve, of the blood squirting out from the joints that were now severed.

Still have no idea why I didn’t own a punching bag. Well, I did. Guests and those who might come in wouldn’t think fondly of me for having one. In the moment, though, I was thinking to hell with them.

Hence why the workout was necessary.

The elapsed time in the bottom right corner of the display read a little less than forty-seven minutes, so it was 22:46 right now give or take. Less than a quarter of an hour left.

I went back to thinking in more abstract, system-like concepts. Each punch and revolution added a point to my score thanks to a host of sensors. The mass and resistance added a multiplier to the respective point gain. 23,467 when I glanced at my present one. The nearest adversarial rider was close behind with 23,298, but there was a big gap between them and the third.

My punches kept pace with the next song queued up. Electronic rock. There was no contest between it and the pop and rap songs that the instructor had playing. It wasn’t about love or money or “bitches” (why people listen to that trash confounds me), but about doing whatever it takes to win. About rising to the top. That was the tone I needed in the moment.

Forty-seven minutes quickly transitioned into fifty-eight, and with that, I began to taper out. People started to sign off and head to bed or get some more work done. When the class wrapped up, I set my weights in their cradles and rotated my shoes out of their bindings.

The refrigerator’s doors opened easily enough. The kale taste wasn’t too prevalent thankfully, so I downed the shake with relative ease.

My phone was still showing that text message from Bernard from a little over an hour ago.

Bernard Lievens: Give me a call when you have the time.

Ariane would be asleep right now, but Bernard’s sleep schedule was not unlike mine. I went into the app and called his account before casting it to the living room television. Bernard showed up onscreen ten seconds later, his dress shirt unbuttoned and showing some fur.

“Shit, Pascal, you look like a sweaty mess,” he went on to say as a lovely introduction.

“Says the one who is in the middle of a one night stand,” I said jokingly, though not entirely.

“I—Oh, fuck you,” Bernard said. He rubbed his chest after that subconsciously. “I’m not the one who caused a ruckus at dinner.”

“And that’s why no one thinks you’re any fun.”

“Pascal.”

“It’s fine, Bernard. At the very least, Ali seemed to degrade me less after that.” I sat down on the gray sectional right behind me. The camera angled down to keep me centered in frame.

“Yeah, well, Blaine came up to me after you left, berating me for bringing a communist sympathizer.”

“I’m not worried about being dragged off to a labor camp as a political prisoner if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Pascal, I’m asking you to—”

“He’s a dick, Bernard, full stop, and you know it.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Does he normally act like that? Do you think he’s justified in acting like that?”

“You weren’t making it easy, you know, sympathizing with the damned enemy, justifying their monstrous actions; there is a reason why sympathizers are taken into custody. And before you say anything, you and I both know that’s a hell of a lot better than the bullet in the head one would get in the Federation.”

I actually was going to let him finish speaking, so he was at least wrong in that aspect. That, and it helps to ignore all of the people who don’t belong in those camps like “vagrants” and “degenerates.”

“Dehumanizing them—the very thing that you are doing right now and what everyone was doing tonight—is why they are winning right now. Those Silver Bloods are against everything we stand for and value, no doubt,” I lied, sort of. “But abstracting them into monsters and spreading false information does nothing but weaken our stance.”

“They have capital punishment and execute their own citizens, Pascal.”

“They do, but they also have unparalleled geopolitical influence, the largest standing military the world over, and the highest median standard of living out of all developed nations. And before you say anything, those are not justifications—they are reasons to take them seriously and give it our all in our battle to uphold Caskya’s position as Solaeris’ dominant superpower. The Aelmerians are a legitimate threat that will not go away the more we bitch and moan about them.”

His face and muzzle tensed. “We can put a pin in this. Let the emotions—” And the alcohol in your system “—from the night settle.”

“Fine. Alright. Fuck, just don’t be a dick to my friends, even if they are dicks themselves. I’m still six years your senior.”

“And I am your superior, so I think that makes us even.” His eyes rolled at that. “Now, was that the sole reason you wanted to call me up?”

“The main one, not the sole. I was hoping to go over the psychological conditioning and education of the subject.”

I made a conscious effort to not refer to him as a he. “Well, it’s performing exceptionally well, and is already engaging in graduate level concepts.”

“I’m well aware of its progress. What I mean to focus on is the methods.”

A jarring alert woke me up. It was far from the first time in recent memory, so I was thankfully spared the paranoia-induced leaps of before. I reached over to the bedside table on my left where my phone gave off a series of short buzzes while I was still very much entangled in my bed’s covers. The sole source of light in the pitch black room, it read oh-three-twenty-seven as the time. I touched one of my pawpads to the screen, and it immediately opened up to a secondary messaging app.

End-to-end, 1024 bit encryption, onion routing via dozens of Aelmerian and Caskyan satellites alike, and decentralized user identities. Perfect for terrorists, black hat hackers, or a company’s board of directors communicating with the director of a clandestine, off the books program.

As soon as I knew the message was from the board of directors, I swiftly got out of bed. As soon as I read the message, I immediately made my way over to the facility. I could get there by oh-four hundred.

I got dressed, grabbed all of my work essentials, and headed to the apartment building’s elevator. It’s pretty fast when no one is getting on and off every other floor, and I didn’t want to descend thirty flights of stairs. Throughout the whole trip to my car which was already on its way to meet me in front of the lobby, I was drafting a priority message to everyone working on the project, instructing all of them to get there by five a.m.

Once I embarked into my car, I paged Bernard.

“Come on, come on…”

He picked up, his voice evidently groggy. “Ugh, I saw it. I’ll be there in fifty.”

I did the calculations in my head before plugging his address into the car’s navigation system and taking control of the wheel. I could still arrive at the facility at oh-four-hundred if I bent the rules of the road. There were still hundreds of cars driving, but there was enough room for me to navigate between them aggressively.

“Be outside in seven, I’m coming to get you.”

“Everyone, eye’s forward!” I snapped my fingers in the middle of the office space below the mezzanine. It was a little past oh-five-hundred with almost everyone who was working on the project having to come in exceptionally early. Those that didn’t were already here, working late, and it wasn’t a terribly small percentage.

“As of this morning, the Board of Directors has decided to move Project Supernova into phase three. Before I go on any further, I must ask that all individuals who do not expect to stay through the indefinite period of time in which the program with continue should get ahold of your lawyers. Those who are unwilling, hesitant, or unsure; the same goes for you. It should be expected that your work hours will, at the very least, increase significantly. If you choose to leave now, I am sorry, but more than understand. The work that we have done here must and will continue to be confidential, but so long as the relationship of trust between parties continues, the Primanus Labs corporation will help you to secure immediate employment be it on another project or at another company.” I was just going through the list of legal bullet points that was drafted by bastards in HR.

“That being said,” I said, pushing through the disgust with myself. “If you decide to leave at any point throughout phase three’s timeline, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law under Primanus’ corporate charter, including the possible charge of corporate espionage, and I don’t need to remind you of those ramifications. This evolution of the project mandates that this becomes your life. Nothing—not your family, not your friends, not your desires nor wants nor needs—is more important than this. I’ll give everyone fifteen minutes to decide and clear out your work stations.”

Of course, that also means that your families will be charged with the same crime, likely leading to an indefinite relocation to one of those ghettos.

Everyone started to share worried looks between themselves. No one wanted to show weakness or uncertainty, but it was plentiful. After ten minutes, it seemed like we had lost about 30% of our workforce. I should be opposed to them leaving, but they were doing the right thing in my eye. On the other paw, they were the weakest, least loyal, and dare I say least capable out of everyone. It wouldn't be hard to find people clamoring for their jobs and pay.

I waited until I got confirmation from security that everyone choosing to leave had been escorted out of the facility.

“Alright, now that we have that over, phase three. The Board wants us to move from watching the mental and physical growth of the subject to pushing the bounds of its physiology. Neuro will know a little about this, but not much. At seven this morning, there are going to be three additional teams arriving. Cybernetics, Direct Neural Interface, and Software. If you can’t tell what their jobs are, then I don’t know what you’re doing here. The subject is to be prepped for operation tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. If we are able to pull this off, the Board has agreed to a one-time bonus of one-point-three million solars. If we are to show exponential improvement over purely organic beings, an additional one-point three million solar bonus will be awarded to each of you.”

Everyone was murmuring now, and rightfully so. That was a fuckton of money equivalent to six years of work, and these guys were paid exceptionally well. All of them could become multi millionaires after this.

“I’ll let—” Bernard “—the Deputy Director take over now.”

He replaced my position as I stepped back where he was seconds before, two meters behind where I stood. A nod from him made its way over to me.

“As the Director just said, the scope of this project is expanding. All of you will have a briefing sent to your accounts shortly. Those will explain everything in detail. The three teams just mentioned have been working off site, designing and prototyping the necessary mechanisms to connect the subject and their hardware. Those designs will also be forwarded to everyone as well. Neuro has confirmed that they are possible—sorry that we didn’t tell you guys what those were for specifically,” Bernard said.

“Just know that both the Director and I have looked over the proposed designs and given them the go ahead. When they arrive today, we expect things to go over smoothly. Trust these guys, they know their shit.” He looked over to his five o’clock. “Trauma, what do you need to perform a quadruple amputation?”

“Wait wait wait,” Winston, the head of Trauma, said. “A quadruple amputation!? The subject could die from blood loss or shock.”

“That’s always a risk. We can get a medical-grade laser cutter by tonight,” Bernard retorted plainly.

“That’s still a hefty order.”

“I’m asking what you need to do it, not if you can. We’ll also need a dual euclanation of the eyes and a removal of the cerebellum, I’m guessing. Everything that is removed will also need to have hardware transplanted to their previous location.”

“I—fuck. We can get back to you two hours after we get all of the necessary information.”

“Please do,” Bernard said.

“Hold on,” the head of Neuro Synaptics piped. “You want to remove the cerebellum? That’s an incredibly difficult procedure, and the subject’s motor functions could be permanently, well, annihilated.”

“Let us worry about that,” I said.

“It sounds like mutilation.”

“We didn’t ask for your opinion, François,” Bernard retorted. “It isn’t technically alive, we all helped create it, it is property of Primanus Labs, we have a responsibility to provide a ROI for investors; you knew what this could lead to. This is the biggest leap forward in medicine since the mapping of the Solaeren genome. We have a moral imperative to see this through.” He left out the part about this being a Nova Corps contract. “Are there any other questions? No? Good. We are going full throttle from this moment onwards, people. Let’s get this done. Break.”

Everyone headed out radially, finding their ways to their workstations. There was a lingering atmosphere of tension.

“You know,” Bernard turned to me. “I still have to get you that breakfast I promised.”

“I think we have more pressing matters. It’s not important.”

“No no, I said I would, and it’s fine. I’m sure I can just take an analyst aside and ask him to grab it. Hell, he might as well grab breakfast in bulk for everyone else.”

I turned my head in the general direction of the observation room. “I think I am going to speak with the subject. Seeing as things are going to change pretty drastically tomorrow, there shouldn’t be any harm in getting another reading in.”

“If you say so,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll hold the fort down while you’re engaged with that, I guess. Seems like quite a couple were shaken.”

“They got told about a very big change to their life with a lot of risk and reward. I can hardly blame them.”

“Yeah.”

I nodded to placate him and parted ways. Grabbed a messenger bag from my office before breaking away from the offices and mezzanine. I made some left and right turns, passing by a room with a one-way glass panel looking down on a sterile room. Not very unlike one in a hospital surgery ward, though this one was more of a hybrid between one and a ship’s bridge with all of the controls and interfaces. A biometric, locked stairwell on the side of the hallway across from it is where I went into instead.

The theme of white continued down. The bottom of the stairwell—only two flights tall—ended with a sterilization chamber. High tech, glass doors, and specialized vents. It brought back strong memories, and not the pleasant kind. The doors sealed shut behind me; the vents began hissing. There was another, small section in between the chamber and two doors. A visual airlock. One opened, I stepped in, it slid shut, the one in front of me unlocked.

A figure lay lying on its stomach in the middle of the decently sized room. The irritatingly bright white surfaces added to the sense of space. It was reading a book, though there was a stack of them adjacent. Loose sheets of paper were spread out about as well.

It looked up.

“Doctor Bouchard!” I might as well have been looking at myself ten to fifteen years ago. The voice and body was that of a canisean who had reached maturity, though that youthful energy and attitude showed the cracks in the façade. “I thought we would not be meeting for another forty-nine hours.” It smiled uncomfortably.

“I just thought I would stop by and check-in, tête-a-tête.”

It jumped up onto its paws, tail wagging. “Great! My lessons have been going really well so far. Doctor Delacroix said that by next one-hundred-and-fifty hours we could start working on quantum mechanics, though I am sure you know this already.”

I smiled for its benefit. “No worries. It’s good to hear what you are thinking. I’ll be sure to pass on to the Doctor how enthused you are.”

I was partly unsettled by looking at it. My current russet fur didn’t convey it right now, but it was a painfully similar resemblance, save his slight advantage on my physicality.

“I’ve been reading some of K. M. Dubois. You know Charged?”

“That’s the one with the powered individuals if I remember correctly,” I said.

“Exactly! They’re called Voyants with the ability to manipulate time and space due to a nearby supernova that hit certain people around the world with tachyons. Now, obviously, that’s not how tachyons work.”

“Obviously.”

“But it’s really engrossing! You just fall in love with the characters, especially Ethan, and it’s really cool to see how Dubois and his generation thought during the Space Renaissance. I’m only halfway through, but I think I have a good grasp on the legal—”

“Hold on,” I butt in. “Isn’t that book nine thousand pages?”

“Yeah. Anyways, I think I have a good grasp on the legal system now.” Make a note of increased reading speed. “The Voyants are given special legal jurisdiction that can act above normal law enforcement, but they are restricted to exercising it only on other Voyants or wormholes.”

“The wormholes are rips in spacetime that appear randomly around the planet, right?”

“More or less. It wasn’t just solaerens that were hit with Tachyons but also the planet itself. These wormholes are destabilizations in the tachyon fields that the planet now has. They have the same restrictions that the Voyants have—restricted to affecting time only after the tachyons hit Solaeris—but they are more unstable and powerful. Some of these wormholes have gobbled up entire cities like Light Haven in the Federation and deposited them later in time or along the timeline. The government maintains amicable relations with Voyants and gives them special privileges under the agreement that they act as the front lines in defense against these wormholes, altruists and villains alike.”

“Looks like you are pretty engrossed in it so far.”

His smile faltered ever so slightly. “Well, I’ve been taking some breaks. Sometimes it gets irritating like when plot contrivances come out of nowhere, so I’ve been going through some astronomy books and history textbooks to recharge. I think that actually has helped a lot, though. They’ve even made me appreciate the altered course technology has taken.”

“Good. Going to finish it in six hours?”

“Something like that, maybe less. Depends on how much attention I dedicate to it over other things.”

“Uh huh. Are you getting enough to eat?” I asked.

“Yep! It can get rather dull eating salad so often, but a lack of diversity is to expected with five meals a day.”

“Comes with the territory of a fast metabolism.” He beamed a bit after hearing that. I wanted to keep the conversational momentum up. About two meters behind him—it—a pile of mechanical parts were strewn about. I walked over and picked up the largest part. “The electric motor seems to be coming along nicely. Getting all of the pieces you need for it?”

“More or less. The bearings are snapping, my guess would be the high amounts of centripetal acceleration the motor is generating. I’ll work on the designs for them and submit them shortly. I’m thinking that I can transition from plastic to aluminum.”

Not by tomorrow morning. “Yeah, I think I can get that passed. What’s the next project you plan to undertake?” I said, lying by omission.

“Well, I was thinking about doing a laser cutter. Something that I can use going forward to help speed up future projects.” Before I could respond, he added, “I’ll be safe and careful, I promise.”

“I know you will be. Just adds complications. Maybe start with building a laser pointer, or how about a rangefinder?”

“But those are so easy! And it would hardly be of any use to build a rangefinder in here. The maximum range I could get is eleven-point-three-one-three-seven meters.”

“Think of it as a proof of concept.” I leaned in towards him. “To be honest, I think a laser cutter would be a perfect project, but I have to play politics, and not everyone knows you as well as I do.”

He broke eye contact and turned his head off to the side. “I know, but you must realize how stupid that sounds. I’m more than capable, I’ve been on my best behavior, and it’s not like it will induce combustion on anything!”

I would be more worried about your escape by cutting one of the doors up.

“I know. It’s important to learn, though: people can be really fucking stupid. If they weren’t—well, things would be a lot easier. That’s something reading books and sitting in lectures won’t be able to teach you. At least not as well. It’s important to swallow your pride and play politics sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes at that. His—shit, it’s—inner child was showing.

“It’s just as important, if not more, though, to understand when you need to stand your ground.”

“I guess.” The change in tone and conversational topic was abrupt. “Did you bring this week’s material?”

I nodded and fished several books out of the bag I brought with me. One on macroeconomic theory, one on thermodynamics, and two on political science—I went with covering the ‘99 bailout-buyout and the contentious decision in Yukassov to align itself with the Gold-Block over the Aelmerian Silver-Block after a year’s debate. It would seem odd if I didn’t highlight Caskyan geopolitics, so that limited the books I could choose.

It hastily grabbed them and brought them over to a wooden shelf it built besides its bed. An encyclopaedia volume took up most of the space on it, though the shelf is running out of room quickly.

“You have an appointment tomorrow, by the way. Eight in the morning.”

“This one is going to be just like a normal one, right?” It wasn’t unreasonable to be suspicious with the sudden change in schedule.

“Just like a normal one. We just think it would be a good idea to move it up tomorrow.” He didn’t seem too assured by my response, but I knew I had to be the one to deliver the news. If it wasn’t me who told him, he would pick up on their lies. “If it goes well—and I know it will—I might be able to get you off those supplements. Trust me, it’s just going to be a diagnostic. Organ scans and more baseline data points. Certainly nothing invasive.” Now I was just making completely false statements.

“Alright, I believe you. It’s just—I...I was really not a fan of that bone marrow extraction.”

“Or the spinal fluids tap.”

“Oh dear heavens, no! Why in the world did you have to bring that up!?”

I forced a chuckle. “Yeah, no. Nothing like that. Simple and painless.” I really best stop now.

“Ok. And Doctor Bouchard?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. I am not sure if I say that enough. Most of the other doctors don’t show the same interest.”

“What about Doctor Delacroix? He’s down here more often than I am.”

“He is. But I feel like I am just another assignment to him.”

“Well, you are his job and responsibility. That is to be expected, at least to some degree.”

“Right. I guess so.”

“Still, I appreciate the compliment.” I started to give myself a once over before I turned over towards the exit. “I think that’s a good place to end. I’ll see you around seven-thirty tomorrow, ok?”

“Sure, oh, wait. I...I don’t want to overstep, but...Doctor Bouchard, when will I get my name?”

Awwwwww fuuuuuuck. I do not want to deal with this conversation again.

“Well, we—”

“Nevermind. Forget I asked. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, working to end the conversation.

“No, you’re in the right to ask. It’s just, well, complicated. We want to make sure you get the right one.”

He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. I gave him time to think. Needed to keep him calm and comfortable. Relatively speaking. At the very least, I didn’t want him agitated. That wouldn’t help us very much at all.

“Why can’t I pick my own, though? Just a thought.”

“Most people don’t get to choose their names, though. I certainly didn’t. People are named by their parents, and that makes things complicated in your situation.” I brought up the trademark lie again. “Seeing as we don’t know your parents.”

“Adoption is a thing! And you’re pretty close to a parent. Surely at least in the realm of a guardian.”

If he wasn’t getting dissected tomorrow, I would be more worried about that statement. The Board wouldn’t be all to happy about an...emotional connection taking root. I don’t think ours will outlive tomorrow, though, so that’s not a concern I am going to give credence to. And somehow, that makes me feel worse.

“That’s nice of you to say, but there are more people helping you than just me. It wouldn’t be very fair to them if I got the sole control over that. You’ll get one when the time is a right.”

I walked over to the exit and opened the door before I turned back around. The airlock wouldn’t close so long as I was standing in its way. “Have you thought of any?” I have expected him to say Ethan from what he was currently reading.

“I...Casey. I’ve been thinking about the name Casey. From Grostnick’s The Colony.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The words came out after an awkward silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Airlock sealed, stairwell ascended, Bernard met atop the mezzanine beside his office entrance. He handed me a latte and croissant—the place the analyst went to didn’t offer tartines. The new teams were to arrive shortly, though Bernard already seemed to be drained. Reports had to be filed, orders distributed, and people directed. With my meeting with the subject, all of my responsibilities fell on his shoulders. It’s only been twenty minutes since I last faced him. He never was as good as I was at keeping up with work, but trying to compare anyone in this building to myself...needless to say I had an inherent advantage.

“I caught snippets of your conversation with it,” the man said. He broke up his statements with sips from his morning coffee, arms resting on the railing. “It still boggles my mind that we made that...thing.”

“That it exists at all or that it is already smarter than either of us before a year has even elapsed?”

“Heh, now that you bring it up, the latter is fucked up. But no. It just talked strangely. Thought strangely. Acted. Hell, I would use the word ‘alien’ to describe it if it didn’t carry an extraterrestrial connotation.”

“Really? Huh.” I took a sip of my coffee. The analyst didn’t order enough cream for it. “I thought it, well, maybe not normal, but it didn’t act all too peculiar to me. Closer to a child if anything.”

He turned to face me. Shitfaced and all, he didn’t seem all that assured. “You’re not exactly someone I would use to measure ‘normal,’ Pascal. There’s a reason why your specialty is more biologic and dealing with physiology when compared to psychology.”

“Whatever. I still think it’s not an issue.”

“Oh, and I thought we agreed to stay away from the name thing. The last thing we need to do is relate that thing to a solaeren.”

“‘I think and, therefore, I am.’”

“Smartass.”

“We name pets, don’t we? And speaking of that psychology of yours, there are plenty of people who name inanimate objects.”

“Pets and rocks aren’t self-aware, Pascal. They don’t ask to be named either. Sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it.” His gaze turned back to the chaotic miasma of scientists and analysts below.

“I know. I tried to keep it from going anywhere, Bernard. Not sure how the International Civil Liberties Coalition would react to a corporate homunculi being given a name from a speculative science fiction novel. Doubt we would want to find out”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about those dumb liberals. Still, I think we should stop you from giving it anymore pieces of fiction. Too easy for it to establish an emotional connection.”

“I don’t think that should be an issue moving forward.” Dissection is not usually a pleasurable experience for the recipient.

He sighed. “Got me there. The new groups should me making their way down right now. You want me to be on point or…”

“No, I got it. Just keep everyone focused and calm. Or as calm as one could be right now.” He nodded in acknowledgement.

I descended from the mezzanine. The elevators were close enough that I didn’t feel myself trapped walking there. It took a couple of minutes after I got in front of them before they opened. Three elevators, twenty-five new engineers being incorporated into the project. Officially. They appeared younger on average when compared to the established workforce here; I’m guessing they hovered around my age. Dressed more casually, carrying laptops, smartphones, smartwatches, and a couple had wireless headsets plugged in.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

“Doctor Bouchard?” the man in front said. A canisean with ears that weren’t as erect as my own, fur that was an amalgam of chocolate and cream, and shoulders that were anything but broad. His accent sounded northeastern.

I shook his paw and nodded. “Pascal will suffice.” Project Manager of Electrical Integration, Vladimir Kalishnik.

“Good to see you in the flesh. Everyone is here and ready to get started, though the prototypes are still working their way down.”

“I’m well aware. Thank you all for being on time.” And, of course by that, I mean three minutes late. “I’ll direct you to your workspaces.” I glared at the individuals still listening to music while I was talking. Once they registered my stare of death and destruction, the headphones and headsets were out. If I hadn’t known the makeup of the teams, I would have been surprised at the sight of the female engineer in the software group. Only the second woman on the entire project compared to the eighty-strong male component.

I turned my back and started walking deeper into the facility.

“Now, most people here were only made aware of your prescese a short while ago, but it’s been made crystal clear that they are to respect your work and responsibilities. If they treat you ill or are uncooperative, let me or the Deputy Director—Bernard—know. They same expectation will go for you all, however, so behave yourselves.

“This facility and its work does not compare to that of other companies in the Saint-Michel Bay. You will not find bean bags, yoga classes, juice bars, or cute animal mascots. Or at least not down here.” I turned my gaze back. “Though I take it you are all aware of this. It’s probably fair to say that you guys know the most about phase three, so try to help the others along. Relay anyone who holds moral objections to me as well.”

The corridor turned right and opened up to the main offices.

“Alright, you guys know the general idea. Set up at the space with your corresponding name plate. Cybernetics specialists will be placed with cybernetics specialists and all that, but you all will take up the space in the farther corner.” I pointed across the room. “Any specialized equipment that you do not have on your person is being brought down shortly. If there are any issues, relay them to me.” Most of them carried some kind of bag or box, but the heavy gear was coming down the service elevator. “Vladimir, if you would follow me.”

Up the stairs, around the mezzanine, and face front towards my door. I waited until the door shut to turn the windows opaque.

“Your office is being set up right now. Anything sensitive and personal will be left up to you, of course.”

“Naturally,” he responded. His paws imprinted on the chair he leaned back on. “So, it’s really happening. Never thought the day would come.”

“It’s been more than seventeen months of work just on my end—twenty for everyone else. It’s strange. Shit, I’d even wager it’s a bit scary. I just hope it all plays out.”

“Scary, huh? I don’t know what stick you have up your ass. For me? This is like a dream coming right before my grasp, waiting for me to snatch it. I mean, we are literally redefining what it means to be alive. What it means to be organic.”

“What it means to be solaeren, even. It’s a dangerous path.”

“Aren’t getting cold paws are we, Director? Would be rather ironic, coming from you of all people! I’d hardly consider that thing a solaeren, though.”

“All I am saying is that we are at a crossroads. Not just for ourselves either, but for all of society.”

“I know, it’s so exciting!” he said like a giddy primary student.

“I’d prefer the word fascinating. We still don’t know what the ramifications of the work we do here will be, but I would hope that we are still able to look back without regret on how we handled it. Set a good example for what is to come.”

“Oh. Shit, you’re being serious, aren’t you. Pascal—look: advancement always takes sacrifices. Society never moved forward without taking risks and posing questions that weren’t fully realized. The work we do here...people of tomorrow won’t give a horse’s ass about how we do it—I am not even sure if there are any moral quandaries to consider with that thing. If we are able to eliminate mental illness, fallibility, weakness, well, any toll is worth that.”

“You know, I was almost waiting on you to spout some philosophical proselytizing!” I worked to crack a large enough smile. “There’s a reason why I’m here, Vlad, and you know that. I don’t want to leave this up to someone else. I got to get in on the action a little!” He grinned at that. “But no matter. Have your guys finished up the finalizing touches for the processor?”

“Just about.” He must have caught my reaction. “I know they’re cutting it close, but one of them—Jérôme, good at finding bugs in the inter-tangled webs; practically built the chip’s OS from the ground up—was worried about some last minute quality control. He and the neural network chick, Sandrine, decided to investigate, and if need be patch, some bits of the script one last time.”

“Fine, but I want it to be finished at least two hours before we start the procedure. Once we start, we can’t really put a pause on this.”

“Bringing you back to when your mom told you to pause your online games?” He was incorrectly proud of that bit.

“Funny. I’ll let that one slide. Still, I’d like to see their work before then. Give it a final once-over.”

“What, you think you’re going to spot something they didn’t?”

“I’ve been spending some time trying to learn the language. Can’t do us any harm, and I like to know what this hundred-billion solar project is banking on.”

“Oh yeah? And how are your autodidactic studies going?”

“Hey, CompSci’s never been my strong suit. They didn’t make the language the most accessible in the world, but that’s to be expected when a couple of technocrat prodigies create their own from scratch. It’s complex and far from intuitive...but it’s brutally efficient; functional. I can respect that.”

“Well, the buck stops with you. I trust you know what you are doing. And it should work flawlessly. That girl, Sandrine? She’s here for more than just that ass of hers. I don’t know how, but that bluestocking can do things with machine learning that none of my other team members could have dreamt up.”

And there it is...

“I’m well aware. Without her, we’d be sitting on our asses for at least another four years. I’m still surprised they were able to make it so that the brain and processor’s machine learning craft how to execute and interpret commands on their own.”

“I know. It’s unfortunate that this kind of tech won’t be available for wide distribution anytime soon, though. It’s not like we can strap a 350 IQ brain to every computer out there to find the optimal configurations and pathways.”

I grumbled in agreement.

“We don’t know how it will turn out, though. Not yet,” I said. “Best we can do is work our asses off until it’s all over.” I glanced over to the television on my wall and hiked my thumb at it. “Bring up the arm and leg schematics. I wanted to go over the organic nerve connectors.”