Inhuman(110)
“1, I presume,” Aldous said as he crossed confidently to the woman, passing underneath the circular chandelier that burned incandescent light bulbs, bathing the room in a pleasing, if also impractical and opulent hue. He stood near a leather armchair adjacent to the couch, waiting for an invitation to sit, but the invitation didn’t come.
“You are presumptuous,” she replied. “That is accurate.”
Her facial expression was difficult for Aldous to read. He felt sure he was in the presence of 1, but the woman didn’t look anything like the android they’d witnessed die at the hands of James. Her hair was short and dark and her outfit was dark and nondescript, perfectly blending with the android company she was keeping. Yet there was something about her that Aldous felt was recognizably 1. There was something in her countenance that screamed deception, screamed manipulation, and screamed danger.
Aldous persevered and took the seat anyway. “Presumptuousness is a defining character trait,” he responded, “but I have the feeling you knew that already.”
The woman appeared annoyed, yet patient as she replied, “I know quite a lot, yet the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know. I can tell that you believe you know a great deal, yet you seem self-satisfied by this knowledge. An odd reaction, to say the least.” She leaned forward. “Satisfaction shouldn’t be what you feel.” Her tone quickly became icy. “Rather, you should feel absolutely terrified by what you know.”
Aldous’s ego was suddenly bruised, and he felt shamed. She was right.
“Why don’t you stop being coy,” she continued, sitting back, “and tell me what you think you know. But first,” she changed gears, her scrutinizing eyes leaving Aldous and traveling to one of the androids that stood nearby. “Get him a drink, will you?” She turned back to the chief. “What’s your poison?”
“Now who’s being coy?” Aldous asked. “You’ve met me before, I’m quite sure. You should know my drink by now.”
The woman scoffed. “Afraid not. What’s your drink, Chief?”
Aldous tilted his head as he considered her words. Could I be wrong? he asked himself. “A dark beer,” he replied. “It’s already in the replicator.”
“A stout?” the woman replied, her eyebrow raised in surprise. “I took you for more of a chardonnay fellow.”
Old-timer found himself equally surprised as he watched the memory. Chardonnay sounded about right.
“Well,” Aldous began to retort before holding his palm out as though it revealed the answer, “the more you learn…”
“Indeed,” the woman replied as the android returned, holding the chief’s freshly replicated glass of beer. He handed it to the chief as the woman continued to scrutinize Aldous. “Now, tell me what you know.”
Aldous took a small sip of beer, enjoying the taste of the roasted malts and creamy mouthfeel, savoring it as he didn’t know if there’d ever be another in his future, before he put it, along with all of his cards, on the table. “Well, I know you’re 1. I know the androids haven’t truly been in a battle with the nanobots throughout the universe—rather, you’ve been in a battle with nanobot-created computers throughout the multiverse, and it’s a battle you’re losing…badly. You’re assimilating humans because you’re caught in an impossible race against these computers, which take the very form that the super computer my A.I. and James Keats just activated did: black holes. These black hole computers are springing up across the multiverse, and in every single instance where they spring up, they cause the universe that birthed them to collapse.” Aldous paused for a moment and looked deeply into the eyes of the android he believed to be 1, flipping the tables on her as he scrutinized her reaction. She didn’t appear surprised. He continued. “I’ve successfully kept James and the rest of humanity in this universe in the dark regarding the multiverse, which is why James doesn’t yet suspect that you’re still alive. He eventually will, however, but we’ll be able to use his current ignorance to our advantage.”
Old-timer was stunned by the callowness of, not only Aldous’s words, but of his tone.
The woman smiled faintly and folded her arms across her chest. “Chief Gibson,” she began, her tone impressed, yet playfully chastising, “however did you manage to keep an intellect such as James Keats in the dark for so long?”
Aldous straightened his shirt as he began his reply, not relishing in the manipulation that had gone on for decades. “James has certain…character defects that can be exploited.” He sighed. “He’s the greatest natural human intellect to ever live, of that I’m sure, yet he has an almost childlike belief in…” he paused as he considered the absurdity of his next word, “…goodness.”