Shutdown Syntax - Chapter 10
No sleep for the conflicted
If you are new to Shutdown Syntax, start from the beginning.
Note: This chapter contains violence and strong language, as does the entire story. If you are new and starting this story, please be aware of the potential triggers in a dark story as this.
Ali
Ali slumped against the wall Bernie had built to separate parts of his life. She slid all the way down, cupping the side of her head. The wires Tim had connected caught on her thumb, so she yanked them free. The IrisLink could get plugged in soon.
Oh, why’d she sit down? She needed to be up. Keep moving.
Tim escorted his father to a table in the back at Bernie’s beckoning.
Without the external power source, IrisLink became blissfully quiet… other than a return to red flashing alerts about low battery. Ali took a moment to gather her thoughts. Just stop. Sway a bit from exhaustion, but stop.
Part of her wanted to hide. She pressed the heel of her hand into her eyes and bit back the threat of tears. How the hell had this all happened?
No! She couldn’t stop. Not yet. Pain, throbbing, aching, excruciating pain coursed through her as she stood again.
“Bernie,” her voice caught in her throat. Both Tim and Bernie turned. Catching Bernie’s eyes, she hoped he could read her this time.
“It’s Overburn… I know…” Bernie said, trailing off.
Ali crossed slowly to the side of the room, forcing Bernie away from Mr. G. “Remember the Kori case? A few weeks back.”
“Kori…” Bernie thought aloud. “The… oh. Oh!”
Painstakingly slow, Ali nodded. “Mr. G’s running awfully hot. Make sure you cool him down.” For the love of all things holy, he had better freaking understand me!
Shaking out his hands, Bernie pulled out a tight smile. “Yeah. Ok, yeah…”
Crash!
“Mother of KLoC!” All she wanted was to sleep and recharge.
The sound originated on the other side of the wall. Did anyone think to close and lock the door behind them? As she crossed to the door again, Ali scooped up the screwdriver. Tim watched, clasping his father’s hand.
The garage was still dark, save for the slice of light coming from the wide fucking open door! Ali crept forward, debating unholstering her rail gun again in one hand, as she closed the door and turned the freaking lock while also clutching the screw driver. Bernie did have a habit of feeding stray cats. Fixing stray bots. They’d wander in occasionally. Sometimes together.
The sentimental asshole would get himself killed helping everyone.
Another sweep of the garage.
Creak. Creeeeeeeeak…
Metal scraped, and Ali swung around towards the mobile cart with tools.
And Thumper bobbing.
“You little scrap heap… You scared the shit out of me!” Ali dropped the screwdriver on the cart and held out her arm for Thumper to climb onto.
Ali made for the back room again, but a figure stood in the door. Her breath hitched. Not another…
“Everything ok?” Tim asked.
Ah.
Releasing a long sigh, Ali nodded. “Yeah. How’s Mr. G?”
“Bernie’s starting to take a look. Said I should…”
He must have finished his sentence, but Ali hummed, her brain now on autopilot and trying to wind down so it could shut off for a few blissful hours.
“He said we can hook you up back here. Let you recharge… but it’s gonna take a while. He had to put a limiter on not to draw attention to his power usage.” Tim smiled slightly at her, but she couldn’t figure out why.
Her head bobbed. Painfully, she holstered her rail gun and meandered through the door to the back portion of the building again.
Bernie had dragged a set of rolling curtains for privacy around Mr. G.
Finally, Ali fell against the wall and slid down to the cement floor, eyes already glazing over but still watching the curtains. Vaguely, she was aware of Tim moving around her. Felt the weight of Thumper come off her shoulder. As heavy as her eyelids were, Ali kept watch over Mr. G.
Bernie will fix this. Bernie will…
Tim
Ali drifted off before he’d even gotten the power cable, already fitted with the appropriate adapter, and brought it to her. He pulled Thumper off her shoulder and set him on the floor as he marveled at the way she fell asleep sitting upright.
“She’s not so bad, huh?” Tim asked his bot, resorting to the same conversations he usually had in Emberfield — one-sided, with broken bots. A little guilt might have been eating at him for how he’d treated Ali. Despite how dangerous her job was daily, she clearly cared and wanted to keep people safe. She kept him safe. And his father. But when he’d finally been able to help, to give her something back... Ali froze. Fear tensed her to near snapping.
Thumper bobbed happily, stamping his feet like a dog.
“She built you?” Tim asked, rolling the power cable in his palm.
Thumper straightened his legs and bent them again, almost like a squeaky nod.
“You did good tonight. Thanks for that.” Holding her head, Tim pressed the power cable into Ali’s IrisLink, but it didn’t seem to stir her. Tim followed where she’d been staring at the curtains drawn around his father. Metal clinked against metal. How did someone as reputable as Bernie become friends with miscreants like his father? Or Ali?
Either way, he supposed his father was in good hands. Better hands than the ones that made him whatever he was now.
Picking up Thumper, Tim settled in at the closest computer desk next to a partially disassembled computer; the webcam was removed, and the network cables were in a disarray after removing internet access. He tapped Thumper’s front camera lens. “You need a bit of maintenance, bud. I know I’m not your maker but...” Some of these smaller bots had enough intelligence to allow for maintenance from others that weren’t their owners. A much easier process if he had his credentials, Thumper might have let him perform more stringent maintenance. It all depended on his chipset. There was always the option to hack the little guy, but that felt wrong. Hacking into Ali’s little bot… after all they’d been through, what with her saving his life and all. “We could at least get your squeaking under control. Thought you were going to give Ali a heart attack.”
Thumper crouched down, folding his legs and springing up. Then he turned around in a circle. A surprising facsimile of emotion from the little guy.
Unfortunately, oiling Thumper’s joints took as long as it took to find a can of oil, which was not hard at all. And it left a gaping hole in Tim as soon as he was finished. “Wish I could do more for you, little guy. I’m not...” Thumper made another round, giving off more excited puppy energy. The metal had been fashioned well. He wasn’t a standard out-of-the-factory bot. Very custom. Much like the motorcycle in the corner. “Ali built you... Did she build you from scrap?”
Thumper’s energy dropped. His camera adjusted. Following the camera’s line of sight, Thumper must have been bringing Ali, sleeping on the floor, into focus.
A truly marvelous little bot. Nothing in Emberfield had such a distinct personality, and most of those bots were probably around the same age as Thumper. Potentially even running similar on-board AI, based on the age. Question was, what type of security did he run?
Asking would be difficult. Usually, Tim had worked on bots that were able to communicate via voice modules. Thumper appeared to have a speaker, so why no voice? Without his diagnostic gear, it would be even harder to figure out the whys.
“You know, older boards, simpler boards... don’t have the same security features...” Tim mused aloud, trying to talk himself out of his training and schooling. Unique AI, maybe Thumper had unique logic. Which could mean he might be able to logic Thumper into letting him do some upgrades without Ali’s agreement. Again, depending on security.
In a way, though, he had to try. It had been a loooooooong day, but sleep seemed quite far off with his father undergoing surgery. And he couldn’t let his mind stray behind the curtain at the back of the room, otherwise he might well lose his mind completely. Everything that had happened was just... insane.
Without meaning to, Tim tried asking, “Want me to fix you up? New arm. Maybe... a voice mod?”
Thumper really took after his maker, including her skepticism. Crouching, Thumper looked like a tiny dog backed into a corner now, and Tim could practically hear it growling.
Well, it had been worth a try. Working on something would take his mind off... his father. Every free moment he glanced at the curtains, mind circling every worst case scenario.
Thumper kicked a cable on the desk, the clang reverberating nerve-rackingly loudly. An older video cable, but compatible with Thumper. This time, Thumper crouched as if it were sitting and stared at the computer monitor.
“Do... you want me to connect this to you?” Tim dangled the cord in front of Thumper.
As if sulking, Thumper only continued to stare at the monitor. Most bots didn’t have a high intelligence threshold. AI advancements stalled when concerns arose about human safety due to AI’s hallucinations or poor judgment.
Tim connected the cable at the back of Thumper’s head. The port wiggled an awful lot, but the signal seemed to be strong. Then he hit the power button to boot the machine Thumper currently stared at. Tim hoped he could get in easily. It was a time when he wished people still used poor judgement and kept passwords written on scraps of paper. At worst, he’d find a workaround, open a guest account, or... well, hacking into the desktop was probably less intrusive than hacking into Thumper.
The back plate of Thumper’s head fell off, dangling by the cables connected to it. Of course...
Tim picked it up, noticing the chip set in his head. An older version of Frame Weaver 3 that included AR overlays. Not a bad chip to use on a bot other than it was easy to spot, because it included exposed debug hooks and old. If Thumper’s GPU was that old, it stood to reason his main processor may be as well. And open or exposed debug hooks meant it was likely that Thumper didn’t have high or any security to prevent unauthorized access to his code, allowing anyone to steal and modify his code. Interesting choice considering how intelligent he was.
He guessed Thumper’s penchant for violence had so far been a good deterrent from anyone modding the little bot. Like maker, like bot.
“You’re falling apart, bud,” Tim said and pushed the panel back into Thumper’s head. Surreptitiously, Tim tapped Thumper’s back panel, which didn’t have the same problem as his head, apparently, and it stayed in place.
Thumper must have taken control of the computer; the boot sequence came to a highly generic operating system. Immediately, a video player window opened.
“That’s strange,” Tim tried to use the mouse, but Thumper seemed to have control and was blocking the peripherals. Very odd that a bot with as old equipment as Thumper could have such a sophisticated AI.
On the screen a video played back, Ali, with mostly brown hair, a few highlights here and there, leaned into the camera. Into Thumper. Tim couldn’t place how many years ago this had been recorded, but Ali didn’t look much different, aside from her hair.
“He’s up! Yes!” She jumped out of her seat, fist pumping the air.
“Cobbled together piece of...” Harry muttered off-screen.
“Don’t you diss ‘im! The little thumper works.” She leaned into the camera again and whispered, “Course, if I ever get the money, or know someone, maybe we can upgrade you. I was a bit sparse with your features. Would be nice to make you more complete. You deserve it.”
Harry walked behind Ali. A much younger version of the man in the room in the back. “A child could build a better bot. That’s...”
“Screw you!” Ali threw a screw at Harry. “This little guy’s a work of art!”
Coming into frame, Harry adjusted his glasses and then started ticking off items on his fingers. “Built with my tools. My scraps...”
“Fine. I’ll go use Seb’s stuff. He’s got better food too...”
A pit opened in Tim’s stomach. There was so much about life in Vanguard that Tim never considered. How long had Ali known his father? What kind of role did his father have in her life? Tim and Ali were probably about the same age. She could easily be mistaken for Harry’s... daughter.
He couldn’t breathe. Tim tried flexing his fingers. Wha-what could he do or say?
Fuck. Fuck.
Did Ali have a childhood with his dad? Did he raise her?
Some tussle broke out on the video, cutting through the deluge of thoughts attacking him, and the video cut to a different video set inside an apartment. The camera bouncing. Definitely Thumper’s bounding point of view. He walked across the floor, the furniture appearing to tower over him. As he continued through the apartment, he pushed open a door, climbed a side table, and stared at a bed with a sleeping Ali.
“We were just messing around, you little thumper. Sparring, as Alison would say. Nothing to worry about. Wait till she shows you boxing. Girl can take a punch.” Harry sighed, picked up Thumper and placed him next to Ali on the bed. “Brat! Telling me she’s gonna use Tim’s bed without even the courtesy of asking.”
“She’s asleep now, too,” Tim whispered to the bot. Thumper’s response was to again adjust his lens. “You know... Ali found someone who can upgrade you. And... I can’t sleep.” Tim’s eyes darted to the curtain again, but the thoughts swirling around it ached too much.
“Still can’t believe your’re working. Damn,” the younger version of Harry Griffin returned to the video window. Glasses and messy blonde hair with a matching patchy few days’ worth of beard growth. “Can’t believe she got you working. Man, Tim would love you. You know, that kid loves building bots, fixing bots… kid’s a freaking genius. He’d probably have so many notes about you, ya little thumper.” The video shook, presumably Thumper moving or running or—Tim chuckled at the little guy’s name origin. “Smart little guy,” Harry patted Thumper-in-the-video’s head. “One day, maybe you can meet Tim.” Harry’s face grew huge. “I’d give him permission to fix you up. Just to piss off Alison.”
“Of course,” Tim rolled his eyes. “But… that does sound like explicit go-ahead, doesn’t it?” His fingers itched to grab tools and start. Anything to distract from the well of feelings that were crashing around his brain like a typhoon.
A black window with a cursor opened over the video of younger Ali sleeping.
Command accepted.
“It wasn’t a command. Whatever, let’s see what you’re running.”