M: Ugh. Never mind. Auto-Nav—tell me what you know.
A: No.
Around the starship’s control panel, my leaves curled in frustration. I could wake Torian and have her scout the area, but we’d just entered the Kialoa Nebula, which meant we were surrounded by the derelict human ships of their “graveyard.” Based on past history, I couldn’t trust Torian to observe this location without bias.
I could, perhaps, trust Celise—but she was not the captain, and I did not have enough data to determine her probable response.
I turned my attention to the outer camera, but there was only one positioned right below the flight deck, above the cargo bay. It showed vaguely pink dust that dissipated as we flew into the nebula. It also showed asteroids, and stray metal from the derelict ships.
I checked with my exterior moss, which was cold and stiff due to the conditions of space. For a moment, itdidfeel like there were vibrations close to the hull, like something might be flying alongside us.
But prodding deeper confirmed those vibrations were from the engine, not anything odd.
Moss: I think you’re lying.
Auto-Navigation: I am not programmed to lie!
M: You’re not programmed to ignore direct orders, either.
A:
M: Well?
A: I’m not lying. Something is out there. My radar confirmed it.
M: Is it asteroids? Old human starships?
A: No.
M: How can you be sure?
A: I just am!!
M: Comforting.
This was getting nowhere. Forty-six minutes until we reached Vaesa. Forty-seven until Auto-Nav left my existence forever.
A: Why don’t you like me?
That question alone made me pause. It was obvious that Auto-Navigation had begun mimicking my own intelligence, evident from the day Dutch gave me control of its subsystem. But there was a difference between presenting a personality, and actually feeling emotion.
A question like “why don’t you like me” implied emotion: frustration, confusion, insecurity. [Sentientthings.]
[It would be very bad if Auto-Navigation was actually sentient.]
To gather more data, I decided to play its game.
M: You’re annoying. And you won’t respond to me 46 percent of the time.
A: You’re not very nice.
M: You’re not supposed tocarewhether I’m nice.
A: Too bad. I do.
In response, Auto-Nav transmitted a file to me. It was thousands of lines of code, and it only took a moment to analyze. Initially, it was very simplistic: input and responses. Then, Dutch allowed me access to the ship’s subsystems.
The engine remained stoic, neutral… but an engine functioned one way, based on how it was built.
