All the King’s Horses
A Conversion Bureau story.
Chapter Ten: Everything For Free
Numbers. So many numbers, buzzing by and vying for his sparse attention. Blood leaked across his tongue, oozing from teeth that had cracked under his intensely locked jaws. Throat numb from the bout of screaming when the data streams had threatened to overwhelm him, Bobby could virtually feel his neurons steaming at the edges. Finally the last of the data packets assembled and his vision cleared.
Exhausted, the programmer allowed his UI to de-synchronise from the four competing AI terminals. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since the stream began, but his brain felt like a bowl of synth-oats on a month long bake cycle. He fucking hated direct interfacing, but it was the only way to give the AI’s the power they needed. No matter how many serial cores you strung together, nothing could beat the human brain for parallel processing.
With shaking hands, Bobby began to remove the probes from the outside of the apparatus around his head, each eight inch needle sliding with a sucking sound from their rubbery sockets.
That had to be a new world record. Writing a complex instruction set in a long dead organic language in less than four hours was bad enough. But assembling that code simultaneously across several thousand individual servers, live, while applying six different levels of quantum encryption? This was to be his ‘last job’ and as such the director was paying him a lot for his specialty, but no amount of Equestrian bits or ‘travel rights’ would compensate him for the years which the brutal program had shaved off his life span.
Eleven of the twelve holo-screens flickered briefly and died as their power was cut, Bobby more than happy to never gaze at another Apple-Soft operating system so long as he lived. Freed of the wires and intruding probes, the programmer unbolted frame attached his skull, replacing the rig with an expensive wig that comfortably covered the thin hair and metallic interface sockets. Sure that his work was done, the prematurely aged man buried his head into his shaking hands and waited for the pain to pass.
Remaining dead to the world, yet hearing every susurration reverberating within in his screaming head, Bobby teetered on the edge of consciousness. Time passed unmarked in the server room, the gentle hum of heat sinks wooing the drained man into a shallow restless slumber. A gentle shake of his shoulder finally dragged the shattered worker back to the world of the living. Tilting his head upwards, the piggy face of his employer propelled Bobby’s still idol mind to the surface, invoking a bends of stomach turning terror.
Doctor Kliner manner remained suitably unimpressed, adjusted his spectacles he glowered down upon the recently awoken code monkey.
“I hope your lack of activity is an indication of success?”
Practically chocking on his dry throat, Bobby straightened his posture and nodded respectfully to his boss.
“Ahm, yes sir. It wasn’t easy, but I did exactly as you asked. The orders were integrated into a live stream in real time. Utterly untraceable.” Stammered the employee, brain scrambling for purchase on the wave of prostration. Clearing his throat a second time, a hard question appeared at the forefront of his still cotton like thoughts, one that had been subtly nagging him for some time since his disconnection from the server.
“Sir. Why did we need to go to these lengths?”
Kliner narrowed his eyes at his personal coder, calculating the man’s worth vs what little dangerous information the whelp possessed. “Elaborate, Roberts?”
Bobby saw the banana peel in the conversation but was already moving far too quickly to do anything but pirouette and hope to land on his feet.
“Well, if I could be so bold, the stream you asked me to intercept was downloading quite nearby. We could have practically walked in the front door and handed your operative their instructions.”
“What makes you think he is ‘my’ operative?” Pressed the rotund man, maintaining an authoritarian air to disguise the test within his question.
With no response forth coming, Kliner turned away from the dread filled coder, “Plans can change at a moment’s notice, best to keep our options open. With your system in place we are free to deliver instructions as we please. Now, your enquiring mind is presently no longer required. A transport is waiting on the roof to take you to the launch site. Best you hurry, this is one flight you do not want to miss.”
Stomping away like a small fatty planetoid, the doctor left Bobby to clear up the last of his equipment. While he didn’t know what was in the data package he’d been asked to send, the genius programmer was glad he’d be well away from whatever consequences would culminate from its delivery.
Sweeping up the duffle bag full of clothes and a handful of personal possessions, Bobby Roberts took one last glance at the room that had once been his prison. Towers of soulless servers hummed with the voices of a world in crisis, moderating and censoring thousands of feeds from this one city alone. Somewhere in the vast desert wastes, an orbital transport was being fuelled up and loaded onto its jump ship. Within twenty four hours he would be floating thousands of kilometres above the earth’s surface, observing the dome of Equestria gradually consuming the world beneath.
As the lights of the server hall went out, the last source of illumination remained the central screen on the technician’s workstation. Sensing the absence of activity, applications began to close themselves. Briefly the World-Gov logo revolved on the desktop, eventually winking from existence as the terminal locked itself down for the night.
--
“YOUR NEW LIFE IN EQUESTRIA.”
The presenter announced, joined by a fanfare as the World-Corp logo rotated jerkily on the giant screen. Cheese notwithstanding, the present holo-reel had been made up to look like an old propaganda PSA from the 1940’s, even down to the flickers and scratches on the none existent film.
“This is Keith Wiseman.” A waving man stood in front of the camera, his arm around a prideful woman and flanked by two beaming children. Standing in what looked like an idealist’s concept of a modern homestead, the family were the epitome of incongruity considering the state of the world.
“Fine spit of a lad. Keith and his family have chosen to emigrate to Equestria, so let’s get them underway. First he’ll need a brand new body.” Winking at the audience, ‘Keith’ picked up a large cup and drank enthusiastically.
Setting the empty flask aside the man licked his lips and twitched an eyebrow “Tastes like grape, doesn’t it Keith?”
Quite suddenly, Keith’s keen nod turned into a melodramatic faint. A puff of smoke and an overly obvious scene switch later, an earth pony stood in the spot from which the man had vanished moments ago.
“There we are now. Feeling okay there, Keith? Good chap. Now it’s off to Equestria.”
A dreadfully executed screen wipe and the newlyponified Keith stood amid rolling green fields, a Pegasus mare and their two foals stoically beside him with a collective look of awe on their muzzles.
“Here we are. The Land of Equestria. Prosperous, serene and welcoming to all who would seek refuge. Unlike Earth, there are no mega cities or residential hives. So where will Kieth live? For the Equestrian pilgrim, there are many options.”
As one herd the family trotted up a cobbled main street, entering a cut away home and admiring the spacious cosy interior.
“Many homes have already been constructed in Equestria for Newfoals to occupy. Rental is an option too, but for the true pioneer what could be more exciting than building your own home?”
On the screen, Keith made a startled expression and pointed to himself. “Yes, Keith, you and any newfoal could build your very own abode, with your own two hands. Or in this case, hooves-”
The image and commentary froze for a moment as the broadcast system chimed a calming tone. “Katrina Weatherly to the front desk, Katrina Weatherly to the front desk.”
“HALLEUIAH!” Came the cry of jubilation from somewhere within the darkened lecture theatre. As though attached to a bungee cord, Kat leapt up from her seat near the back of the room and dove recklessly across several rows of classmates in a zealous dash towards the exit.
Erupting into the brightly lit corridor, sock clad feet slid across immaculate laminate, bouncing off the far wall before racing off down the hallway. Four days. Four excruciating days of weird exercises classes, language lectures with silly giggly ponies, etiquette seminars and unfathomably dull public service broadcasts by the WorldGov’ propaganda department. It was enough to make the most seasoned veteran stir-crazy! For a little while, the strained girl had tried just avoiding the classes altogether, segregating herself in the tiny room she shared with another random woman from the Falafel. Salve though, respected listener that she was, had gotten wind of Kat’s tardiness and had seen to it that the wayward girl found her way to every class on time.
Despite all indications, Kat had somewhat expected to walk in and be converted the same day, not spend all her time trapped in clean, well ventilated rooms with ‘pleasant’ company. At last! An excuse to break the monotony!
Just as she rounded the last corner into Clinic Six’s welcome area, something caught the back of her jumpsuit collar. With a strangled little ‘Erk’, the maverick youngster was brought to a halt.
“Courtesy guideline four;” Sarah’s newly condescending voice stated as she released her grip on the struggling youth. “Running in the halls is not perMitted and can result in withdrawal of Cake privileges.”
Rubbing her neck dramatically, Katrina scowled dementedly at the android that had so quickly chased her down “Baka! You nearly strangled me!”
“Everything alright down there?” Squeaked a curious mare from beyond the clinic’s welcome desk.
“Fine.” Kat huffed, shrugging Sarah away and walking deliberately the last few feet to the reception.
“Hay there Hun! Do you need some help?” Churped Dizzy, eagerly leaning towards the potential friend, “Looked like you nearly took a tumble!”
Oddly, though Dizzy’s full attention seemed to be on the reception visitors, beside her a hoof doodled strange fluid shapes across what looked like a recyclable napkin. Beside the little pony, the work surface was littered with dozens of pieces of scrap paper and rappers. Covering the table top and hung from every conceivable edge. Not a single scrap without some odd drawing, detailed calligraphic lettering or cramped Equine script. None of it was particularly eye catching mind you, bar the sheer quantity.
With her trademark manic-smirk, Katrina leaned closer and touched her nose to the pony’s, wild eyes staring into the amber pools of helpfulness.
“Katrina Weatherly. You called me?”
“Oh yeah!” Dizzy exclaimed, unsure ears perking up at the mention of the name, “Salve left a message for you. Umm, let’s see here.”
Disappearing for a moment beneath her crowded desk, the eager pony rummaged around in search of the wayward document. There was no way that the small desk had enough space under it to house even a small Equine, yet Dizzy seemed to have vanished all together, the laws of space time no match for the energetic Equestrian. In the distance there was the sound of an Ice sculpture being pushed over, a yelled apology echoing out of the three foot legroom.
“Funny little thing, isn’t she?” commented Kat, resting her chin on folded arms, “What do you think her talent is? Giddiness?”
Sarah leaned over the edge of the desk and took note of the wide collection of doodles and paperclip sculptures. After a second of careful thought, the woman proffered an answer.
“Multi-tasking.”
“Bingo!” came the chirpy reply from somewhere behind a filing draw, “On both accounts!”
Like a submarine breaching the calm surface of the ocean, Dizzy popped back up from her Narnia and leapt onto the swivel-chair. Quite oblivious to the ripple of paper that flowed over the edge of the table, the filly allowed her seat to spin until it finally slowed of its own accord.
As the rotating Dizzy drew to a halt, she leaned out and put her hooves on to the desk, offering up the note that was attached to the end of her nose. “Here it is!”
Katrina removed the memo and read it. Like butter above a paraffin lamp, her perpetual grin melted into a puddle of blank disbelief.
“Isn’t it wonderful!” Dizzy continued, smiling happily at the daunted girl, “I mean, normally we arn’t like supposed to tell anyone. But Salve said you were, like, a special case and that it was important to let you know.”
“Oh. That’s... good then?” Kat replied carefully, mind struggling stalled out on what had just been revealed. “Why are you telling me now?”
“ ‘Because I want her to have time to think, properly’.” Recited Dizzy, putting on her best impression of ‘soothing Salve’ in authority mode. “That’s what Salvey said anyway- Oh! Though maybe she didn’t want me to tell you that bit? Darn. Oh well, you know now.”
Katrina said nothing. After a short moment an orange hoof gently pulled the note down to reveal Dizzy’s innocent face beaming up at her shocked expression.
“Isn’t it great though! You’re being converted tonight!”
Again impassive silence met the pony’s congratulatory comments. Slowly, as though in a trance, Kat folded up the note and turned to walk out of the clinic.
Dizzy was at a loss. Sure, they sometimes had the occasional ‘runner’, humans who would quite literally run screaming when their time suddenly came to drink to their salvation. But the mare had never seen one walk out so calmly before. A bony hand drew tapped the pony’s withers and drew her attention to the other onlooker.
“We will be back shortly.” Confirmed Sarah, unreadable features softening slightly, “I will ensure she returns in time for the appointment. Please keep the slot open.”
--
Outside the confines of the domed Bureau, a glorious day was barely beginning. The restored sky had barely a cloud within its vast blue plane. Laying atop an abandoned car near the centre’s perimeter, Katrina folded her arms behind her head and finally allowed the dam of thoughts to break. Overwhelming relief flooded into the valleys of her mind, dragging within its swirling tide the boulders and uprooted redwoods of mortal dread. This was it. It was no longer some distant event that might happen to someone else. She was going to die tonight, by appointment no less. For some reason, the newly imposed time limit suddenly seemed to crystallise the world around her, as though her hourglass of life was now on some awful conveyer headed towards a recycling crusher.
Crunching gravel singled the arrival of her mechanised shadow. Drawing up next to the hardtop, Sarah stared out over the towering cityscape, watching the millions playing out their individual morning routines.
“Eighty thousand physiological combat models tell me how you should react. Yet you defy them, and I cannot tell what you are thinking as You lack the appropriate wireless enhancement.”
“You know Sarah, you’re a really crap counsellor.” Kat responded, not moving from her relaxed posture upon the sun baked car roof. Seconds, normally huddled together and rushing past lest they be noised, slowed and spread themselves out into warm sluggish moments.
“What’s wrong with me?” Asked Katrina the endless blue sky.
Unmoving Sarah offered up an answer, “Have you reconsidered self termination?”
“No, it’s not that.” Kat said, more as question to herself then a statement, “It takes more than an ‘emulator’ to understand people, Sarah. Do me a favour, go away and get locked in a logic loop somewhere.”
Once more lazy seconds fanned themselves in the generous sunshine, their lax approach to the universal timepiece rudely interrupted by the yelp of a teenager being dragged from her cosy retreat. In one swift motion, Sarah threw her step-sibling onto her shoulder and began striding towards the road leading down to the city.
“LET GO OF ME!” Katrina shrieked, pounding her fists ineffectually as her guard turned abductor began to pick up speed, mechanical legs moving with inhuman grace. “PUT ME DOWN YOU PILE OF SCCRRAAAAAAAP!”