“Nice,” Troy said, trying to figure out what had just been said. How little that word, which he had uttered, rembled anything that he actually though, was astronomical. What did she mean when she said that connection had been made, but not in the intended ways? What were the intended ways? “Could you… explain it a little more?”

Wasn't there only one way of communication? It shouldn't have been too complicated in telling him, yet her words had brought more confusion, than what he had started with. Troy was not sure what to do with it all. What did it mean?

“When we re-established connection with Adam, it was supposed to have been the AI's choice,” Dr Hale began, clearly talking more, for her own purposes, seeming to go right into her own worlds, as the words were spoken. Her eyes became even more glazed over, While Dr Hale was looking in his direction, Troy doubted that she was paying her visuals any mind. “But, Adam refused to do so. Every single probe, which we sent at it, was instantly thrown back, without the contents answered. Adam had pretty much blocked himself off, with no way for us to conceivably reach.

Until Dr Fidelis noticed a detail, about the messages, which we sent. They were being opened, their contents overlooked, before being sent back. While blocking away the earpiece connection completely, there was still a small gap, when it came to text form. Adam was leaving himself open. And, that was being used to its foundations. Dr Fidelis did something, which I cannot understand.

He sent Adam a virus. It didn't come close to touching anything close to the AI's core. Not even Dr Fidelis is daring enough to do such a thing. Yet, it still took over the controls, when it came to a few features.

The communication port was forced open. Now, Adam has gotten his choice removed. While it still only works with the text-based communication, Dr Fidelis is in the process of modifying the infiltrated program to open the earpiece'sports as well.

Was that enough of an explanation?”

It likely was. Troy wasn't putting anything close to the needed focus on it. After one of the later parts, his thoughts had received, trying to form a valid explanation to his feeble mental state.

Dr Fidelis had done what? How was- Why would he do such a thing? Someone doesn't want to talk, so you just force him to talk? This wasn't ethical!

It was all so wrong, on more than just a fundamental level, yet Troy knew, that such things would be ignored. For some, Adam was still only a research subject. But, so was he, making Adam his equal, in both spirit and mind.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Troy mumbled, not caring too much about the way that he was appearing before Dr Hale. She wasn't the one to be careful about, honestly. Dr Fidelis was. He had gotten that proved even more, just now. “Is he okay with it all, now?”

“Dr Fidelis wanted to do so immediately”, Dr Hale amended. Troy felt the 'but' coming from a mile away. “Yet, I talked him into letting me get you first. While your position is not on the same level as ours, you have undoubtedly gotten the most firsthand experience, when it comes to communicating, with Adam. It fortunate for you, that he didn't ask, where most of this experience came from, or I would likely have answered truthfully. If it delayed the inevitable, I would have gladly done so.”

How great it was, being told, that his wage depended on his secrets being lead up to or not. It really just helped stabilize his already rapidly beating heart. Okay, well, it wasn't too fast anymore. Troy had gotten most of his problems out of his system, leaving the newest to take their slices in his newly healed wounds. It could have been worse, honestly.

“Good to know”, Troy stated, leaving their conversation off on a low note. It wasn't like they had much more time to talk safely, seeing as the secret door would be coming up in just a minute or two. He had never heard anything, which would indicate microphones outside of it, but he didn't doubt that some were there.

He categorized such a thing, as a safety precaution. Not everybody had a perfect day. Some people could always forget, their constantly changing passcodes. Not once had Troy seen Dr Hale punch in the identical code. And, they always increased in light, making the possibility of getting a single digit wrong even larger.

What would have happened, if both doctors forgot their codes? Would they just be locked out? No, of course not. There just had to be some protocols, if such a thing happened. Voice recognition, accompanied with emergency codes was one of the most likely, which Troy could think of.

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. In the best scenario, he would never know.

Dr Hale glanced at Troy, making him straighten his back, and generally trying to make himself as professional-looking as possible. It was a tame imitation of the former's act, yet it seemingly satisfied her standards, making her begin typing in the ever-lengthening code.

Even if it was wrong to do so, Troy had initially begun to memorize the codes put in. Who wouldn't? It opened up so many more possibilities for the future. Sure, there wasn't any reason to know them now, seeing as he was being followed to the job no matter what. Yet, that probably wasn't going to happen forever, so… knowing the codes beforehand wouldn't hurt anybody, right?

Well, it would have been even better, if he could actually remember the codes, with how quickly they changed. At this point, simply guessing would likely bring him more of a success rate.

With at least ten number inputs, the code being over seven figures long, and him being able to do one every second, it should only take him… about an hour or two. Maybe longer. Troy wasn't too good at the mathematics of the thing, honestly. The theory of it all, sure. Applying it to real-world situations? There shouldn't have been any need for it.

The door opened, and in the two of them walked. No words were exchanged between them, as their footsteps synchronized into a rhythm. It was slow, as they took the first long steps in, taking care to be near-completely silent.

Of course, this did not deter Dr Fidelis from noticing them in the slightest.

“Ah”, Dr Fidelis said in mild surprise, his features having gone back from his more… unlikeable ways. It had been replaced, with the normal expression, which Troy had always seen him wearing. Currently, nothing about the man indicated anything amiss. Nothing to show off the anger, which he had had previously. The tense ordering, which had brought him so low. “Dr Hale, I see that you have procured Troy, from where he was hiding. Was he not in the cafeteria, as I suggested?”

“Yes, sir”, Dr Hale confirmed, with a sharp nod. “Maxwell was just in the process of finishing his meal, in the moment, where I came to get him.”

That was not true. Troy had been a far stretch from even being satisfied, with the amount of food he had eaten. With that meal, several portions would have been required, and he hadn't even gotten halfway through the first one.

“Is that so?” Dr Fidelis questioned, with a musing voice. It wasn't anywhere near its earlier aggression, yet he felt like the voice had been put on with the wrong type of undertones.

“Yes”, Dr Hale confirmed, yet again, seeing as the questioning doctor refused to elaborate on his suspicions.

“Oh, then it is very weird, that the two of you took such a long time when getting here,” Dr Fidelis surmised, as if it was a scientific question, just waiting to be uncovered. “Really. It took you longer than it usually takes for the two of you to have full-on breaks. What on earth created such a delay?”

This was not going, as Troy had thought it would. A brief greeting, before the real case, was begun. Yet, instead of this ideal scenario occurring, Dr Fidelis had instead decided on going the accusatory route, putting Dr Hale's use of work-time into question.

On that note, he might have had some kind of ground. Dr Fidelis had stated, that they had taken a lunch-break worth of time when getting here. Troy had only been with Dr Hale, for a maximum amount of ten minutes. What had she been doing, while away from this room?

It didn't really matter to Troy, honestly. But, it most certainly matters to the very curious-looking Dr Fidelis, who was having his arms crossed, waiting for an incredibly clarifying answer.

Looking over to his side, he saw Dr Hale not moving her body in any way. She stood still, as in frozen in time. No answer came from her lips, her eyes have a continuous lock on Dr Fidelis'. A stalemate between them, nobody, except Troy, daring to blink. To those who could sense it, the tension was unimaginable.

“Well”, Troy began off, not having such a gift. “Does it really matter? Like, we have already delayed all these tests for so long, and the longer we squabble about smaller subjects, we will be letting precious time slip by our fingers. Cant we just… I don't know. Maybe, just move it all on?”

The contest of wills was broken simultaneously, both slipping away at the same time. No winners were made, only a stalemate being left in its wake. As their eyes became removed from each other, they refocused on the speaker. That person had just happened to be Troy, who had been woefully unprepared for their gazes.

Such intensity had not been seen before in person, making him consciously take a small step back. While he didn't notice this action, the two other most certainly do, their eyes softening in but a moment.

“I guess. you might be right on such a thing, buddy”, Dr Fidelis said, releasing the now clearly felt atmosphere. Troy had not been prepared for that realisation, beating himself a few times, mentally, of course, for not having noticed it before. “All we are doing is just delaying our work further. We need to be more careful about such things. Let's get back to it.”

From the side, Troy saw Dr Hale's shoulder sag slightly, before reaffirming their previous position. He didn't mention it, for fear of starting the whole discussion over again.

Where, oh, where had she been?

He wouldn't know any time soon, as they clustered themselves around the computer, with Dr Fidelis doing his usual routine of mashing buttons. Troy was utterly intrigued when it came to this. Just, how was he possibly keeping track of his own actions? He was getting close to five hundred button clicks every minute, shifting all perspectives, on the screen, near-instantly. The image was only just allowed to be loaded in before it was also manipulated into a whole other form.

Honestly, this was way out of his league, when it came to whatever was going on. Troy could recognize it sure, but anything about the specifics was bringing him an absolute blank.

What was happening before he could be described as some very abstract programming. Nowadays, most had switched over, from the purely textualized form of writing. While, yes, it allowed for much more specialization, it also limited a lot, in the amount one could achieve in a limited fashion.

Most simple applications were millions of lines long if one removed all the unnecessary. If such a thing had to be developed, in under a year, it would take hundreds of people working full time. In this time and place, hiring so many people was extremely over budget, no matter how successful such an application could become. And, when it came something even close to the complex, the needed amount nearly quadrupled, making it all but wistful to continue using such an archaic method.

It was here, where the morphing method showed up, like four eye-covered walls, blinding all, who thought that education had gotten them job security. What took a hundred could be accomplished by ten, in just under half the time.

While it did take away some versatility, in how one wrote some methods, the speed bost wasn't anything, which any companies would want to take away. A ninety-five per cent decrease in wage given out was essential for any startup. This whole method did start a smaller revolution about the need for universal income, but that didn't get anywhere, and Troy was just firing randomly at this point.

Not much more was needed to know about it, to get the gist of it. This method was better in abstractness, a little worse in versatility, and a heck of a lot faster in terms of efficiency. Essentially, every budget teams wet dream.

Now, how did it work? Good question.

Troy had no clue. It was something, about changing, well, everything about a picture. It was akin to a four year old messing around on a photoshopping website. The final product probably made sense to them, but, to Troy, it was more akin to Picasso's later drawing.

Anyway, drawing the focus away from such an unprofitable thought process, Troy took himself back to the screen. Dr Fidelis had drawn away from the constant images filtered, going over an to a command prompt of old.

It was ancient technology, to be seen, with the background, and the small, white letters shown in the corner.

“There”, Dr Fidelis stated, getting back up from his hunched-over position. “That should do it.

Now, which one of you want to try first?”