Chapter 13: Are You Gonna Sign or Not?
Jack waited with a deliberately not held breath to see her reaction, whether it was to laugh, scoff, deny, or perhaps to set the contract on fire and leave. He waited and worried everything would tumble down into catastrophe like it always did in his life because apparent ‘luck’ always gave way to reveal a trap.
But it didn’t, and she had no real reaction. Eerily, she did what she usually did. She stared and she waited.
She called a bluff, but I'm calling hers. If this is about me being sound, about me being reasonable? Then I can show that without being a total rube.
Jack made a little shrug with his hands on the table. "Okay. So, it's feasible, then? Good. Let's amend the contract.”
A long pause. After what seemed like an eternity, she lifted her hand to puff her ciggy, breathing in and out very slow. "Maybe. What do you want?"
Jack kept his face clear with some effort, as inwardly he was cheering. Yes! I was right. I was fraggin' right. "I need some assurance on her safety. I won't sign anything being kept in the dark. I want the communication restrictions amended when it comes to her."
"Keeping you entirely in the dark would prove impossible considering the circumstances. In any case, we have no plans to actively harm her."
"So... no chance that you'll execute her? Experiment on her?"
She tapped her ciggy ashes off again. It got a little smaller, at least. "No executions planned. If she turns into a giant rampaging squid monster and attacks, or something of that nature, I'm afraid the bets are off. Excuse me,” — and she held out a hand in a sarcastic ‘allowance’ — “Octopus monster. As for experimentation, we're not going to dissect her. And while information of all kinds is desired, we don't want her as a lab rat. If you want to put down the sharing of plans, then go for it. We'll keep you in the loop. A special clearance allowance. But you will be subject to punishment as normal if you breach intel to the non-authorized, and you’ll be subject to it potentially getting amended out if you can’t keep your mouth shut."
He nodded as he scribbled the words down. "I'm putting down conditional safety. No physical harm unless she attacks herself. No invasive experimentation, no surgery not required for her sound health, nothing altering at all without her consent, barring an emergency."
The woman just eyed him with her tongue working around inside her mouth. From what he’d observed of her, it was practically screaming.
She's capable of losing patience. I almost want to see what it looks like. Almost. Jack continued, "And I want the ability to check in with her." He tapped his temple. "Psychically, at the least. Once a day."
A slight shrug with a hand, a barely perceptible nod.
Jack wrote it down and paused to study her anew. "Just who the hell are you, anyway? Do you have a title?"
"Do you want to write that down, too?"
"What, knowledge of who you are into the contract? That’s worth a bargaining chip?"
"I'm sure you can make that deduction yourself." She took a deep drag and tapped more ash onto the table.
Frowning, Jack shrugged and wrote it down.
"Alright... and-" He picked up the contract and flipped to the core section. "Service Obligation in active duty... in perpetuity. That's... forever, right? For life."
"That's correct. Retirement has to do with a decline in performance more than anything. It's case-by-case. But you are never discharged, and you are never deprived of your stipend. As it is written, there is a reduced amount for ‘Inactive’ for certain categories of rank. That is the minimum you’ll receive even if you plank on a rock for the rest of your life from that point.
"Fitness, wholeness of mind, and so on, that’s determined by the PMWO, the Physical and Mental Wellness Organization, which is impartial and separate, not just a branch of ours. Their judgments are largely unstoppable outside of dire emergencies, requiring essentially an executive order to trump. Temporarily. You'll fall under their authority... once you sign."
"Yeah. I'm familiar." He flipped through to verify, and indeed saw a section specifically for the PMWO, with their jurisdiction over his 'soundness of mind and body' and his rights to appeal to them for judgment if the performance of his duties was straining him.
"Yes, you've signed one of these before. With less griping, no less."
"Less griping for less extreme terms."
"Extreme terms for extreme authority, power, and pay."
It was true, and all there. The ability to detain and arrest. Immunity to normal laws, all discipline handled internally, with consequences of misconduct determined by the organization.
It was effectively a 'license to kill' for a Made Man in Black. Blue, in this case. Everyone in The Babs knew that was the case, though. It didn't matter much. Incidents of liability or abuse that were public were rare, some maybe even false hearsay. It was likely that internal discipline or solutions were quite effective.
But the Agentus answered to no one but themselves.
"Okay, then. Last but not least, of course," — and Jack held his breath as he put on a cold poker face to meet his negotiator's eyes — "is the choice of the power. My choice."
The woman's head dropped slightly in a way that showed he was exhausting her. "That's not happening."
His curiosity was going into overdrive about the whole thing at that point. "Just what the hell is it with this? Is one of them some crazy, dangerous thing you don't want me to take?"
"Your imagination is getting the better of you, Jack. You are simply too anomalous to leave the optimal choice to chance. You must take the optimal choice."
"So it's the power of the optimal choice? You don't want me to sabotage or frag up something really good?" That was certainly a nice thought, at least. “And what about after, huh? Is it going to keep being like this?”
“No. Just class selection. Read the terms. Whatever way you go within the framework is left to you, though you can review suggestions or ask for advice.”
Jack frowned and shook his head at her.
Boss Lady squinted in apparent concentration. "We will amend the contract like so: if you naturally would choose the optimal path, all will proceed accordingly. If you attempt to pick something else — unknowingly in all cases — the contract will be preemptively nullified and void, requiring a new contract before you can proceed."
"What the hell?! That's a bogus contract and a bogus choice! You're still trying to force me into one result!"
"Entirely correct for once."
"What good is that to me compared to the other?"
"We can all see if you are of a sound mind. You'll be allowed the information of the other two selections, such as they are. It's more of a summary than extensive detail, take note."
He frowned as he considered it. "It's not much different."
"If you see things differently than we do, we have a problem. If we are of one accord, it would've never mattered at all, would it? This is as much compromise as you're going to get. If you want to play this game further, you'll be doing it on a scale of years. Is that what you want, Jack?"
He scowled deeper. What is so important about this? This is absurd. Typical bureaucracy freaking out about slight changes in the paradigm. Well, okay… the first person to ever get powers from an alien entity and a mystic nautilus shell isn’t just a slight change…
Finally, Jack sighed. "Fine, but I'm going to add something else, too, since you're basically not granting my request."
"And what's that, Jack?"
“The contract mentions provision for one’s parents. I know the big reason for its existence has to do with the typical age it happens. Regardless, I’d like to help my dad, if possible. I’d probably need the Mems’ help, though, considering I don’t even know where he is. So, firstly, information access in regards to him. And, if feasible, helping him out.”
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Boss Lady nodded immediately. “Granted. I’ll warn you, it’s complicated.”
“What do you mean? You know? He’s alive, at least. Right?”
She smiled humorlessly, as a predator might, as her eyes fell on the contract.
Jack winced, shook his head, and then started writing out his amendment. “Dirty dogs diggin’ damned, you’re ruthless, you know that?”
“Are you calling me a dirty bitch, Jack?”
Sweat may have beaded on his forehead. “No, ma’am. Definitely not. I apologize for the cussing. That was out of line.”
She nodded slowly, with a mild smirk. “I know I’m ruthless, yes.”
Jack cleared his throat and looked away as he scratched the back of his head, taking a deliberate pause as he pondered things. “It should come as no surprise that I’d also like to be in the know about these groups that took Neex. What happens to those caught, what the extent of this rot is, and why they acted as they did. So on.”
“That would not only be inappropriately deep and hard to process for a bark-bare rookie, but you won’t need the distraction, especially as the lay of things stand right now. So you can get your briefing after you earn your coat. If you’re especially unlucky, you’ll have the honor of that clearance being put to use in field training.”
Jack nodded slowly. “I’ll put down that I volunteer for it with pleasure.”
Boss Lady gave him a look he decided was broody as she took a drag on a depleting ciggy. “Careful what you wish for. But we both know you’re the type that has to learn the hard way.”
Jack, unable to resist his own cigarette any longer, took a controlled puff and scribbled down the last of his demands to slide it over. “Fair enough, yeah.” He grinned big. “Add this stuff in and I’ll sign.”
She didn’t touch the paper or even look at it. The door opened, and the secretary — she did not deserve the name ‘Alice’ anymore — approached to take the paper off of the table. All the while, Boss Lady studied him with her unflinching gaze.
“Thanks a bunch, Agent Bermuda,” Jack offered, secretly happy for the distraction, though he could tell she was cooly ignoring him. “Sorry if there were any typos. I skipped breakfast.”
Maybe I’ll just skip breakfast from now on. It’s an excuse for everything!
Just as he thought, the secretary took the paper — and the prior contract — and left the room without a word.
A dead silence persisted. Jack just gave up and killed off his cigarette. He didn’t ask for another, and inwardly promised himself he’d refuse it if offered. That never happened, and she didn’t say a word, maintaining her eerie mystique.
Jack shifted uncomfortably for the hundredth time and drummed his fingers on the table. “Sooo… see any good movies lately?” He was sure she was subtly giving him an admonishing look in answer. Semi-sure. “Okay then… oh, me? I did, in fact! Thanks for asking. The Neverending Black, the spiritual sequel to Space: The Final Frontier. It wasn't good at all, though. Pretty bad. Decent action. Visual junk food at best. And way too many lens flares.”
To his surprise, Boss Lady responded. “The first was based on seven recovered digital fragments of an apparent massive serial. The title is from a direct quote of an in-universe speech. It was one of the clearest scavenged digital bits ever recovered, aside from one classified source for some of the core classics. Most are recreated — or not digital at all and restored from what physical media was rescued.”
Jack tried not to guffaw. She’s a nerd!? What the hell? “Really? I… did not know… any of that. Wow. Some are full originals? Oh, I know one that has to be. I’d bet anything. Casablanca.”
Boss Lady’s face twitched. “How did you know?”
Jack blinked and thought about it. “I can’t say. I just do. It feels original. Raw. Like the flawless execution… specifically of an ancient era. Like if you tried to do it again, now, you’d fall flat on your face.”
She studied him silently for a moment, then replied, “You should try to articulate that more in-depth and submit it as feedback.”
“Why? What would that get me?”
Boss Lady took a slow, long puff, then flicked the fading remains of her cigarette expertly into Jack’s water cup. She blew out smoke and shrugged. “Nothing, Jack. Nothing tangible.”
Jack had no reply. Damn, now I feel like an uncultured slob for asking that. I’m too much in ‘contract mode,’ I guess.
Agent Bermuda came back through the door with the click of heels and plopped a new contract in front of him. And also, she set down a tall, silver can. “Your stipulations are included in the new section numbered nine. All additions or alterations are highlighted for your perusal.”
Jack glanced at her and then at the can. It was like a sealed carbonated drink if it had no label or markings. “What is this?”
“Liquid Orders, to me. To you, a drink containing custom nutrients your new physiology and biochemistry require.”
“You, providing what I require, who’d have thought it? Thanks — you shouldn’t have.”
Her eyes met his as cold as ice. “On that, we agree.” Zinger dropped, she turned on her heels and exited.
Jack found himself chuckling as he watched her go. Her hating him for not being a mark was pretty rich. Maybe he was just hysterical, but the whole thing had quickly become amusing. He turned to Boss Lady and asked, “Jet fuel?”
She nodded slightly.
An offering. From her? Maybe higher. This lady has to have a string-puller, too. That’s just the way things are.
Jack left the drink. If it was anything like the cigarette, he was going to down it like a maniac. Best to save it for ‘after.’
He checked over the contract again, reading the amendments and additions. His words, effectively, just translated into the lingo, with modifications Boss Lady had mentioned. Everything was good.
He began to sign page-by-page, absorbing himself in reviewing each thing before making his mark. Just to be safe. With a grin, he asked, “There’s not anything about selling my soul in here, right?”
“Read between the lines for that answer,” Boss Lady replied.
“Ha. Right. Memoria owns our asses anyway, sign or no sign.”
“A given, isn’t it?”
“You know, I insisted to myself there was no hope for some sort of ‘change from within.’ I’ll just be the cog in the wheel of my section.”
“And just how likely is that, Jack?”
Scribble, scribble, scribble. Shit. That’s an ugly signature. Could make a case that the whole platform pitched suddenly. Come on, Jack, write smooth and easy! “Eh. I dunno. It’s always pretty simple, right? Do your part and all that. Orders are orders.”
“I see. But what would you change? Why?”
“Hell if I know. Secrecy, probably. I think it’s more trouble than it's worth.”
“You won’t care what happens to secrets after you acquire them, just the ones you don’t have yet. So it always is to be illuminated… you keep chasing the brighter light ahead. As you should. You won’t escape the system you’re within just to turn away from the controls, but you can seize them and be a part of the development. Make your mark in the evolution.”
Jack had to look up at her at that. She was just sitting there with a flat expression, hands interlaced on the table. This lady is something else. “Huh. Philosophical. I’ll think on that.”
She gave a barely perceptible nod.
Jack got deep into the rules and allowances in front of him. Interestingly, there was a specific prohibition on ‘recording or creating recordable System details,’ even for Nons. It was considered a security risk and thus only allowed by mental vectors or specifically authorized, secure locations. There were also many levels of clearance, so one had to verify with Memoria or a ‘Relational Agent’ whether any given subject could be shared.
Other expected things. ‘Continued Memorial mental access for a quicker interface, compatibility, and assurance of salience, loyalty, and mental health.’ But also rights to privacy ‘cross-human’ or communication of private thoughts, barring a ‘strong matter of civilizational security.’
I guess that’s the price for a super-intelligence in your head. The good with the bad, so to speak.
Jack signed and signed until the final page was before him. Here was the point of no return, so to speak. Permanent trajectory for his career, his life… his mind, body, and soul. All that he was would have to be poured in. He knew that requirement was in front of him like a mountain, and he knew he would climb it gladly. To serve the greatest purpose he was capable of. To be among the best. To know just what the frag was going on, and to be an intimate part of it.
That there were costs was abundantly clear. There was never any getting around that. He accepted he’d be one to pay them.
Jack stared at this last bit and re-read it twice. “Ominous, isn’t it? And a bit strange.”
“It’s a strange world, Jack,” Boss Lady answered. “You’ve been in the dark and seen so little of it, even as a pilot. This technology? It is the periscope popping up into a brand-new dimension of open waters and skies just waiting for you. But first…” She trailed off, raising her eyebrows at him questioningly. Teasingly.
Jack took a deep breath and looked down at the waiting signature line. “I know this one. ‘First, get in the damn submarine, soldier.’ ”
Making sure his signature was impeccable, he signed.
In truth, he was expecting trumpets and fanfare, or maybe the contract to burst into flames and the Devil’s mocking laughter to spill forth from Boss Lady’s toothy maw. But instead, there was just ink on paper and her watching him with the same folded hands on the table, a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Just as he was opening his mouth, Boss Lady said, “You’re still doing the limbo, son. A contortion you asked for. Go ahead and look at your classes. They’re listed under their structural names. You only learn the unique moniker once selected, as there is only ever one existent at a time. Some nuts and bolts details are also inaccessible before selection. Just remember: however pushed you might feel about this, your affair with choice-making has only begun. The Rule of Three. Every level that you ascend, you choose and modify. Mutate.”
Heeeeeeeere comes the classes!
::: :::
What do you think about Boss Lady?
