He took them to what was quaintly called the computer lab, a large open room of grey walls and rows of long tables under which sat rotating stools with short curved backs, all arranged so as to be placed close to Terminal hardpoints. Keri was not the only one to gasp quietly when she saw these; hardpoints were rare, and exclusive. The ability to access the Terminal at any time, and at speeds unheard of on the wireless corps network, was sought after and envied in equal measure. Heavily restricted, bypassing the layers of security and redundancy that normally wrapped around the Terminal like the layers of an onion, hardpoints were direct, physical links to the raw datastream itself. A hardpoint was a lock, and the corps was the key. Provided the Terminal granted access, of course.

It was through hardpoints such as these that humanity was to upload itself, should it so choose.

The man who had led them here swung himself over one of the stools[1] and sat down.

"So you stole the blueprints for Kai because you were curious?"

The Programmer[2] had refused to give his own name, insisting that they call him only Programmer. He sounded stunned, and annoyed, but only for a second. He paused, thinking.

"Still, it is rather lucky you did. Starting from scratch would have set us back a decade."

"Hmm, extremely lucky," said Eu, again with that grin suggesting she had understood some joke no one else had noticed.

"Kai?" asked Anisa. It was to her the man had been speaking.

He blinked, pausing before realisation dawned.

"Oh, god, of course. Sorry, I worked here for so long that I forget what is and isn't common knowledge. Kai is what we call the AI. Kairos. The critical moment. It's, er, Greek."

The man hesitated, eyes flickering somewhat embarrassedly across the group.

"You gave it a name."

Anisa's voice was flat, a statement and not a question.

"You're not meant to do that.”

That had also been decided, years ago. The AI was supposed to name itself, and whether it did or did not was considered to be of vital importance to understanding the nature of humanity’s creation.

"You were not meant to steal a datasphere filled with its designs," the Programmer replied, deadpan.

"Look, I will enjoy figuring out who is to blame for this mess at some point too, but maybe we could talk about more immediate issues?" said an irritated Cassandra. "Like, what the hell are we going to do about the Butcher outside? He'll get in here any minute."

"Well, we should have rather more time than a minute," the Programmer replied. "Following the last attack, we had the entire facility coated in aggredia[3]. Even with the ungodly strength that thing has, it'll keep him out for a while."

"And the door? What if he tries to get in the way we did?"

"Well, finding that will be as difficult for him as it was for you. You didn't find it, did you?"

"No, we did not," said Keri. "How is that possible?"

"Continuous flash suppression," the man replied. "Hiding one image beneath another. Creates some illusionary sense of movement, but it is multi-spectrum and should disorientate even his sensors for an hour or two. Had that put in after the first attack, too."

"You had all this put in after a Butcher went on a rampage through your entire facility?" asked Cassandra. "That's closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, isn't it?"

It took a few moments for him to understand the idiom.

"Well, maybe," he said, looking back at Cassandra defiantly once he did. "But he’s here, isn't he? So it's a good thing we did."

That logic, at least, was undeniable. Cassandra backed down.

“You keep using the term ‘we’ a lot,” she said, looking around. “I don't see anyone else.”

The Programmer sighed, and his eyes fell.

“It was… difficult, convincing others to stay on after it all fell apart. Most of us left soon after the attack. The rest… more recently.”

He looked up again, with a smile.

“But now you've brought Kai back! Once we've got it back in the MFC we can get on with the final stages.”

“MFC?” asked Keri.

“Multi-layer Faraday cage. Kai needs to be kept isolated at all times. Imagine if he got out before we were ready! The first boot-up will be within the cage, ensuring that it can't propagate out into the spheres before we get a good look at him.”

“Him?”

Again, the look of confusion.

“Ah, it. Dammit.” The Programmer looked crestfallen. “I remind myself every day, you know, but it's so easy to anthropomorphise the thing. It. Before we get a good look at it.”

“And the Butcher?” asked Andreas. “What exactly are we supposed to do about that?”

The Programmer’s smile returned.

“Ah, that. Yes, well, we prepared for that, as well. Only, I'm going to need a small favour from you all…”

[1] In the now universally-acclaimed Riker manoeuvre.

[2] Keri didn't know where the stylistic choice to capitalize the term came from when discussing those working specifically on the AI, but it had caught on quickly and been accepted practise for years. Possibly it had only been started in order to spite the grammar fanatics who found little in their lives more rewarding than roaming the spheres and going berserk about such things.

[3] Keri performed the usual mental flex to save the term for later research. Aggregated diamond rods, it would turn out to mean.