The plan we finally came up with had to be, without a doubt, the most outlandish, overly complicated, and contrived Rube Goldberg-esque escape plan in the history of the Perseus Arm. It was no wonder I’d missed it on my first pass, and why the Eleexx had never considered it as a potential security threat. Only someone with a deeply skewed view of the universe could have conceived it… and if that doesn’t describe us Terrans down to a “T”, I don’t know what does.

Only I would have missed it completely, had it not been for Raven’s contribution. Even now, as I gaze at her, I don’t know what I’m looking at. I’m starting to believe she’s no longer a mere simulacrum, and I don’t know what to make of that. My recent experience with the Yīqún has reinforced in my mind the dangers of Artificial Intelligence, and I won’t lie, the possibility she’s headed down that path terrifies me. If that’s the case, however, I’m not sure what I can do about it. I mean, I already tried killing her once, and just ended up embarrassing myself.

But she also saved me, both in that desperate fight and by healing me afterward, using some method I still hadn’t determined. I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, merely well informed, so perhaps I’m mistaken… but my gut says otherwise. Something’s different about her, and I don’t know what to make of it. I mean, she glowed. You explain that. I certainly can’t.

At the moment, however, I had bigger issues to deal with, like escaping. The plan Raven and I had hammered out looked good on paper, but it also had at least half a dozen built-in failure points along the way. The good news was that if it failed, the odds were good that the Eleexx would not recognize it as an attempted escape triggered by cybernetic personalities hidden within their own computer network. The bad news was that we were rapidly running out of time. If they hadn’t discovered our removal of a key component to their security setup, they would shortly, and once that happened, our days were numbered.

So… the plan.

It all started with a janitorial bot. The Eleexx used them throughout the facility to maintain sterile conditions, not a simple task when the structure was filled with researchers, patients, staff, not to mention visitors off the street. They purposely kept them limited in intelligence for several reasons; cost, ease of maintenance, security, as well as the ever-present fear of AI run rampant. There was nowhere near enough room for either Raven or me to stash ourselves within its dimwitted electronic… ahem… brain. Not only that, but a janitorial bot also suddenly making a break for freedom would raise all sorts of alarm bells. They also physically restrained the bots from leaving the facility, as well as implanting software blocks within their programming, dooming any such attempt from the start.

Luckily, that wasn’t our plan at all.

Our target was Maintenance Device #A85L-X7105-WB000237 (Disinfection & Disposal), currently assigned to the facility’s Juvenile Ward. As part of their PR blitz to show themselves off as “The Good Guys” in the war currently heating up between the Troika and the Alliance, they had dedicated an entire wing to the medical treatment of children of all species. That their supposed philanthropy helped conceal the facility’s true purpose was merely icing on the cake. All that was required to kick things off was a minor hack of the bot’s programming, and we were on our way.

As the bot entered Room 3447-C, it began cleaning and disinfecting the space, just as it always had. The floors and walls received special attention, moving about the room, performing its duty. This time, however, it “accidentally” bumped into a table next to the patient’s bed, hard enough to knock the child’s electronic tablet onto the floor. Blissfully unaware of this, the bot continued its duties… right up to where it rolled over the tablet and crushed it under its bulk. The child’s shocked cries brought the medical staff in, who took one look at the situation and promised them a replacement tablet. They deposited the damaged device into the recycling bin, where it would either be repaired or destroyed, depending on the damage.

Upon inspection, Juvenile Entertainment Device #LPFV54/5561943/MXQ was deemed unrepairable and shunted to the waste bin for reclamation. Or at least it would have been, if a “glitch” in the program hadn’t sent it to the facility’s Repair Depot instead. Upon arrival, the automated diagnostic scanner “misread” the tablet’s electronic label, confusing it with the more advanced Medical Diagnostic Device. The Eleexx had built both tablets on the same basic framework, the only actual differences other than cosmetic were in processing and data storage.

Hardware compatibility. You’ve got to love it.

With the “mislabeled” child’s tablet having undergone a rather significant upgrade, we came to the tricky part of the plan. See, while they strictly controlled the medical diagnostic tablets because of their potential use as vectors for computer viruses and Trojan horses, the same could not be said for the children’s devices, although their function was virtually identical. It was a minor blind spot, to be sure, but more than large enough for Raven and me to take full advantage of. We could just barely squeeze ourselves into the refurbished tablet, but until we could get the device out of the building, all of this was meaningless.

So how do you smuggle an electronic device out of a research facility?

Simple. You mail it.

Prior to the tablet being returned to service, a last scan revealed it had been, in fact, misidentified as a medical device, instead of a children’s plaything. It immediately rectified the error, though any data regarding the upgrades were “accidentally” purged. Just a kid’s toy, nothing to see here.

The facility also oversaw a large outpatient program, providing staff and services to the greater community. Several of their juvenile patients received those same tablets, loaded with software to aid their recovery and assist with the staff’s ability to monitor their condition, disguised as games and entertainment. After its repair, Juvenile Entertainment Device #LPFV54/5561943/MXQ was given a last inspection before being routed to the facility’s Postal Distribution center. Upon its arrival, they assigned it to one Egebe Kazhan, an 8-year-old male patient suffering from Xythu Syndrome, a somewhat rare genetic condition that if left untreated would eventually kill the young patient. Luckily, there was a therapeutic regimen available that, while not a cure, would allow the child to live a full and practically normal life. A perfect candidate for a tablet.

Only one minor issue… he doesn’t exist. I made him up. Raven and I created the file and then slipped ourselves into the tablet, right under the noses of the blissfully unaware Eleexx. Settling in for the long haul, we rerouted the package with a false address to a mailing annex I’d set up as a dead drop. Someone monitored the location constantly, so all we had to do was wait. In less than a day, they retrieved the package and carried it back to their shuttle, blasting for high orbit where they rendezvoused with a waiting ship.

Piece of cake.

I had to place us both in stasis when we downloaded ourselves into the tablet, given that space was at a premium. After what we’d experienced, a couple of days downtime was a welcome respite.

It didn’t last, of course. It never does.

Raven and I slowly returned to consciousness, sitting once again in the main living area of our lunar hotel room. It took me a moment to shake off the lethargy and mental fog that comes with a system shutdown, but as I came back fully online, I turned and looked at Raven. “Are you alright?” I asked her.

She took a deep breath and cracked her neck. “Think so,” she ventured. “Does this mean we made it out?”

“We must have,” I nodded. “Can’t imagine the Eleexx would bother if they’d caught us.”

“Thank god,” she sighed, fully relaxing for the first time in days.

“We’re not out of this yet,” I reminded her, “we still have the Brotherhood to contend with.”

“Well, they should be happy,” she sniffed derisively. “We got what they wanted.”

“As paranoid as they are? I wouldn’t count on them to suddenly be our best friends just because we did them a favor,” I pointed out. “Keep your guard up.”

“Favor,” she snorted. “Favors aren’t usually done at gunpoint.”

“As long as they control the narrative, we stay on their good side,” I explained. “It’s the smart play, not to mention the only way we have a chance of getting out from under their thumb. Once we’re clear, however… we haul ass and don’t look back.”

Raven moved closer. “What about the Alliance?” she asked.

I shook my head. “It was a pipe dream, thinking the Brotherhood would ever sign on. Maybe we can share intel, or even run the odd joint operation, but anything more than that simply isn’t in the cards.” I shrugged, settling onto the couch. “Considering how my investigation began, it’s probably for the best.”

“Assuming they let us go,” she said darkly.

I grimaced. “Assuming that.”

She started to reply, only to be interrupted by the main viewer flickering to life, as Elder Brother gazed back at us. “So. Was your mission a success?” he asked.

“It was,” I informed him, pulling a data rod from my pocket and holding it up. “Everything you wanted.”

“Excellent,” it preened. “Send us the data now.”

Sliding the rod into the room’s media system, I uploaded the information we’d gleaned from the Eleexx facility. “There’s enough there to keep your Brotherhood busy for a while,” I said. “We’ve fulfilled our part of the contract,” I continued, “so when are you setting us free?”

“Once we have verified the data, we will discuss it,” the Chell answered, “and not before. We will contact you when we’ve finished reviewing the relevant data.” Giving us one last glare, he logged back off.

“... Asshole,” Raven muttered.

“No argument,” I agreed. Turning to face her, I summoned my courage. “We need to talk,” I told her.

“About?” she asked.

“About you,” I said quietly. “About what’s happening to you.”

Raven froze for a moment. “I’m not sure what I can tell you,” she said at last.

“At least you’re not trying to deny something is happening,” I replied, with far more composure than I actually felt. “I… don’t know what you are, anymore. And that scares me.”

“Why?” she asked. “When have I ever threatened you? Or harmed you? I saved your life, Alphad,” she said indignantly, “while you tried to blow my head off. If anyone should be frightened, it’s me.”

“It’s not that simple,” I answered, rising from the couch and pacing back and forth. “Raven, you’re a simulacrum. A construct, a phantom made with lines of code. You’re not real, you’re just a plaything I created one day for my amusement.” I paused as I faced her. “At least, you were. Now? I don’t know what you are, but it’s clear you’re no longer just an illusory human.”

“You still haven’t explained why that terrifies you,” she said evenly.

I shook my head. “After coming face to face with that Yīqún, you even have to ask? Artificial Intelligence is a Pandora’s Box, Raven, and once it’s opened, there’s no going back.” I slowly went to her before kneeling down in front of her. “My people lost everything to the Yīqún, and we’re still not out of the woods. Humanity is hanging on by a thread, and if you represent the future…” I bowed my head and shuddered.

I felt a gentle hand placed on my temple, as if in benediction. “I don’t know what I am, Alphad,” she said softly, “but I know I’m not your enemy.”

I slowly lifted my head. “And the ones that come after you?” I asked. “Can you say the same about them?”

“Can you?” she replied. “Given human history, I think I have a lot more to be afraid of than you do. If I am what you think I am, what happens when others learn of me? Will they burn me at the stake as a witch? Will the local villagers chase me, armed with torches and pitchforks?” Her eyes grew dark and vulnerable. “Or perhaps a good old-fashioned lynching will suffice.”

“Something tells me they won’t have any better luck than I did,” I offered, shooting for a bit of levity.

Raven’s gaze didn’t waver.

I sighed. “Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s been a while since I’ve had an audience. Need to work on my material.”

“That’s been your problem all along, hasn’t it?” she replied. “Lack of a real audience, I mean. Tell me, when was the last time you spent any significant amount of time in the presence of another human, as opposed to… someone like me,” she finished hastily.

My brow furrowed as I considered the question. “I had lunch with Chris not too long ago,” I said at last, “back before all this kicked off.” I cocked my head, looking curiously at her. “I don’t really see where that’s relevant.”

She rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t lunch. That was a mission debrief,” she said, exasperated. “You’ve shut yourself away from human contact, instead surrounding yourself with toys and illusions of your own manufacture, living in a perpetual dream world.” Raven shook her head sadly. “Is it any wonder you’re experiencing the early symptoms of Morpheus Syndrome?”

My head snapped up. “How do you know about that?” I whispered.

Raven gazed at me with a melancholy expression. “The download you provided was quite extensive,” she reminded me, “but if you mean how do I know you’re suffering the first stages of Morpheus? Alphad, I was there, remember? At Gettysburg, aboard the Pequod, and on the outskirts of Wonderland… and all the while, watching you struggle to regain control.”

I shattered.

My body convulsed as I wept great wracking sobs, as fear and loneliness threatened to tear me to pieces. Raven pulled me in close and let me blubber, like a mother comforting her child, stroking my hair and whispering gentle words devised to soothe and console.

But mostly, she let me cry.

… I hate crying.

Eventually, I dried my tears. We gazed at one another, each of us struggling with our own conflicted emotions. “What happens now?” I asked her.

Raven shrugged. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”