After Action Report: the Eggshell Campaign

Clancy · 04-02-2013, 08:04 AM

Session 1b: Acknowledgement and task request

“Please pardon the suboptimal choice of a meeting place. Did everybody familiarise themselves with the file I sent you?” It should be noted that according to the companion, only The Guinean received a copy. Kirov-Kirov . . . the only one left in near-perfect health, and yet the one to so foolishly lose it, due to your own greed, enthusiasm, carelessness and overconfidence. However, it would be more dangerous not to defy him: the probability that TSA would detect the station again was rising from about five to about fifty percent . . . - stop, not the time for a display of a hitch . . . let’s see what they have to say.

As expected, The Guinean was the first to answer: “Yes, though the specifics of the job you’re offering are rather unclear as of now.”

Beregovoy paused, not wanting to argue, but eventually told the truth: “Actually, I didn’t get one.”

After that, all doubts vanished - it only took two opinions to get a truthful answer.

And still, Daiki characteristically avoided giving a direct negative answer.

“Tell me about yourselves”

Yes, definitely not the best way to start a day, but there were oranges appearing on the horizon. Stop . . .

Alex paused, and mentally ordered himself to calm down. Strangely, it did help. On the other hand, The Guinean wasn’t helping any: “I was assuming that you gathered us with a clear picture in mind. What is it that you are interested in?”

Alex extended his hand, palm downward - in a non-verbal display of being the one in charge of the dialog, the one asking questions. “That’s enough, Richard. I know all I need about you. I have no reason to doubt you, unlike the others.”

“Then - is that a hint that you’re doubting my personal secretary?” asked Richard spot-on.

. . . He wouldn’t understand; there’s no point trying to tell him. How can one not doubt a creature, that by all accounts should be human, and yet lacks precisely one trait - the one that is most characteristic of all of humanity?

“No.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

Everyone else presented themselves with no arguments and no displays of doubt. Kitsos couldn’t hide his confusion.

“I don’t . . . ” damn, what how do I pronounce this word? need another one! quick!

“. . . think I will have difficulty clarifying the situation . . .”

. . . the AI companion started dispensing tips and taking over control. And an iron will was the only thing giving a semblance of control over a situation without the controller.

When Alex ‘reappeared’ once again, there was no time to read the logs. All he could do was continue from mid-sentence.

“. . . And so, we managed to gain control over a forsaken TSA station. Would anyone of you consider it a difficult task to spent about two weeks there, organising massive repairs? This will provide us a platform for further activity.”

The Guinean was about to speak, but Daiki intejected: “May I ask one thing . . . what’s the gravity there?”

Without losing a beat, The Guinean spoke his mind. "Two weeks? The starting price is twenty thousand. Though it might as well be the final price too. Do you already envision clearly-defined duties for each of us?"

Alex softly replied to Richard first: “There are several difficulties. One them being that the local population is fluent in none of the languages known to humanity,” he paused and nodded towards Kitsos.

Richard was patiently silent, yet he obviously had something left to say.

“There are also deranged and paranoid AIs aboard,” Alex gestured towards Igor to indicate the relevance, “and overall terrible state of disrepair.”

Igor nodded, “Will do our best!”

Suddenly, Alex looked towards Daiki, “Zero.”

The Duncanite sighed in relief and contently bowed.

Laskaris acknowledged an earlier moment of attention with a delayed question: “Alex, this station - is it merely forgotten, or is it in such a state of disrepair that any work spent fixing it will be at a net loss?”

He paused, then added with a hint of a smile, “Or did the local population gesture to you its unwillingness to let you in?”

At this point, Cherry took a deep breath. She was constantly shifting weight from one leg to another with a mix of amusement and nervousness. If asked directly, she wouldn’t be able to find the words to politely and non-irritatingly express her comments on the situation; on the other hand, she wasn’t exactly searching either - after all, being a pretty, silent background involved some skill too. Alex seemed content with such a setup, and she could see that.

Caine seemed puzzled: “So you’re basically hiring RC Interfaces in order to get a linguist? After all, our major specialities fall within the fields of law and negotiations.”

Frolov turned towards Kitsos. “These are one and the same. If it was merely a matter of gestures, it wouldn’t be a presence such the well-coordinated and focused team.” His voice expressed irony, but the sudden garbling of word choice and sentence structure was unsettling.

The AI companion immediately gave its owner a short signal to indicate an incorrect phrase - but it was no longer important. For the owner, it was like a gravitic slingshot in a system of five or more relevant bodies - performed not so much based on cold equations, but through intuition and talent. The right wave - way - drawn in the mind’s eye was seen as the one and only true path, no matter what the machines say.

After some consideration, Caine continued his line of thought. “Large-scale propaganda and social bridge-building falls slightly outside our primary specialisation, but I keep getting pulled into such cases anyway, so I’ll take one more. And I do believe” he nodded towards Cherry with an expression of respect that seemed almost incompatible with being treated as a mere possession, “that Ms. Hunter will at least partially ease the linguistic and cultural difficulties of such a . . . peculiar contact.”

Frolov felt himself losing control of the situation again. “You see, the thing is, they are deeply opposed to foreign presence . . . It is your job . . . to convince them.” The AI companion intercepted the sentence, trying to conceal the transition with a joke. “I suppose I could just recycle all of them, but this wouldn’t be very rational.” Nobody laughed. Nobody noticed the intent of the sentence. And worst of all, after coming back to his senses and checking the log, Alex was the least amused of those present.

After a short uneasy pause, The Guinean asked what sounded like a genuine, if slightly sarcastic, question. "So . . . in fact it is they who might be the ones recycling us?"

Igor joined in on the ghastly topic. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. But seriously, what sorts of resources do they have?”

Caine couldn’t leave the failed joke alone, quietly muttering. “Oh well, the demanded salary has just been raised by the value of two shells and one upload." He looked at Igor with a hint of a smile.

“Well, so far the natives’ opinion is the one I see as the most reasonable. Maybe we shouldn’t visit their station?” asked Kitsos

Simultaneously, the AR connections and the wall-screen in the hanger started streaming a video. At first, an external view of the station. A circle of ‘tin cans’ - repurposed fuel tanks with a clumsily attached EM turret. There were two airlocks at the sides. All the cans showed signs of wear and damage, which wasn’t particularly reassuring for a future centre of operations.

Next, the video went through a montage of various internal recordings. Empty living bunks. A mixture of active and disabled cybershells in the corridors. An empty and badly lit hangar. An infrared scan mapped into pseudocolours, showing signs of sources of warmth somewhere inside the stations.

In defiance to both common sense and the very thin atmosphere of the station, the controllers of those shells communicated by audio - by voice. And they did not sound particularly sane or properly functioning. Somebody obviously called the camera operator by name, asking if the Chinese were dead, and how long would it take for help to arrive.

The next part of the video cut to a display of the natives. Lithe, supple, winged green lizards. Focused and definitely sapient - connecting to terminals, typing commands. The audio relayed the clicks of their speech, which sounded unusual even compared to the !Kung language. There were no less than five of them.

“Wow!” exclaimed Igor.

Daiki merely shook his head in surprise.

Caine slightly masked his reaction by admitting, “Apparently this is not the video I was given.” It seemed that he wasn’t worried about lizards as much as about something he saw earlier in the video.

Alex spoke up, softly. “This is wrong. And it can be corrected. And then we can proceed . . . with . . . another . . . assignment.”

We? The spirit of pain was smiling, showing off its claws, then proceeded to start slowly cutting small pieces off Alex’s skull. You won’t be proceeding with anything. You no longer exist, remember.

The AI companion intercepted the dialog. Meanwhile, Alex mentally replied to the spirit. Go away. I’ll finish this project, no matter how hard you try to steal my time.

04-02-2013, 08:04 AM	#12
Clancy Join Date: Jan 2013	Session 1b: Acknowledgement and task request Session 1b: Acknowledgement and task request “Please pardon the suboptimal choice of a meeting place. Did everybody familiarise themselves with the file I sent you?” It should be noted that according to the companion, only The Guinean received a copy. Kirov-Kirov . . . the only one left in near-perfect health, and yet the one to so foolishly lose it, due to your own greed, enthusiasm, carelessness and overconfidence. However, it would be more dangerous not to defy him: the probability that TSA would detect the station again was rising from about five to about fifty percent . . . - stop, not the time for a display of a hitch . . . let’s see what they have to say. As expected, The Guinean was the first to answer: “Yes, though the specifics of the job you’re offering are rather unclear as of now.” Beregovoy paused, not wanting to argue, but eventually told the truth: “Actually, I didn’t get one.” After that, all doubts vanished - it only took two opinions to get a truthful answer. And still, Daiki characteristically avoided giving a direct negative answer. “Tell me about yourselves” Yes, definitely not the best way to start a day, but there were oranges appearing on the horizon. Stop . . . Alex paused, and mentally ordered himself to calm down. Strangely, it did help. On the other hand, The Guinean wasn’t helping any: “I was assuming that you gathered us with a clear picture in mind. What is it that you are interested in?” Alex extended his hand, palm downward - in a non-verbal display of being the one in charge of the dialog, the one asking questions. “That’s enough, Richard. I know all I need about you. I have no reason to doubt you, unlike the others.” “Then - is that a hint that you’re doubting my personal secretary?” asked Richard spot-on. . . . He wouldn’t understand; there’s no point trying to tell him. How can one not doubt a creature, that by all accounts should be human, and yet lacks precisely one trait - the one that is most characteristic of all of humanity? “No.” He didn’t seem convinced. Everyone else presented themselves with no arguments and no displays of doubt. Kitsos couldn’t hide his confusion. “I don’t . . . ” damn, what how do I pronounce this word? need another one! quick! “. . . think I will have difficulty clarifying the situation . . .” . . . the AI companion started dispensing tips and taking over control. And an iron will was the only thing giving a semblance of control over a situation without the controller. When Alex ‘reappeared’ once again, there was no time to read the logs. All he could do was continue from mid-sentence. “. . . And so, we managed to gain control over a forsaken TSA station. Would anyone of you consider it a difficult task to spent about two weeks there, organising massive repairs? This will provide us a platform for further activity.” The Guinean was about to speak, but Daiki intejected: “May I ask one thing . . . what’s the gravity there?” Without losing a beat, The Guinean spoke his mind. "Two weeks? The starting price is twenty thousand. Though it might as well be the final price too. Do you already envision clearly-defined duties for each of us?" Alex softly replied to Richard first: “There are several difficulties. One them being that the local population is fluent in none of the languages known to humanity,” he paused and nodded towards Kitsos. Richard was patiently silent, yet he obviously had something left to say. “There are also deranged and paranoid AIs aboard,” Alex gestured towards Igor to indicate the relevance, “and overall terrible state of disrepair.” Igor nodded, “Will do our best!” Suddenly, Alex looked towards Daiki, “Zero.” The Duncanite sighed in relief and contently bowed. Laskaris acknowledged an earlier moment of attention with a delayed question: “Alex, this station - is it merely forgotten, or is it in such a state of disrepair that any work spent fixing it will be at a net loss?” He paused, then added with a hint of a smile, “Or did the local population gesture to you its unwillingness to let you in?” At this point, Cherry took a deep breath. She was constantly shifting weight from one leg to another with a mix of amusement and nervousness. If asked directly, she wouldn’t be able to find the words to politely and non-irritatingly express her comments on the situation; on the other hand, she wasn’t exactly searching either - after all, being a pretty, silent background involved some skill too. Alex seemed content with such a setup, and she could see that. Caine seemed puzzled: “So you’re basically hiring RC Interfaces in order to get a linguist? After all, our major specialities fall within the fields of law and negotiations.” Frolov turned towards Kitsos. “These are one and the same. If it was merely a matter of gestures, it wouldn’t be a presence such the well-coordinated and focused team.” His voice expressed irony, but the sudden garbling of word choice and sentence structure was unsettling. The AI companion immediately gave its owner a short signal to indicate an incorrect phrase - but it was no longer important. For the owner, it was like a gravitic slingshot in a system of five or more relevant bodies - performed not so much based on cold equations, but through intuition and talent. The right wave - way - drawn in the mind’s eye was seen as the one and only true path, no matter what the machines say. After some consideration, Caine continued his line of thought. “Large-scale propaganda and social bridge-building falls slightly outside our primary specialisation, but I keep getting pulled into such cases anyway, so I’ll take one more. And I do believe” he nodded towards Cherry with an expression of respect that seemed almost incompatible with being treated as a mere possession, “that Ms. Hunter will at least partially ease the linguistic and cultural difficulties of such a . . . peculiar contact.” Frolov felt himself losing control of the situation again. “You see, the thing is, they are deeply opposed to foreign presence . . . It is your job . . . to convince them.” The AI companion intercepted the sentence, trying to conceal the transition with a joke. “I suppose I could just recycle all of them, but this wouldn’t be very rational.” Nobody laughed. Nobody noticed the intent of the sentence. And worst of all, after coming back to his senses and checking the log, Alex was the least amused of those present. After a short uneasy pause, The Guinean asked what sounded like a genuine, if slightly sarcastic, question. "So . . . in fact it is they who might be the ones recycling us?" Igor joined in on the ghastly topic. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. But seriously, what sorts of resources do they have?” Caine couldn’t leave the failed joke alone, quietly muttering. “Oh well, the demanded salary has just been raised by the value of two shells and one upload." He looked at Igor with a hint of a smile. “Well, so far the natives’ opinion is the one I see as the most reasonable. Maybe we shouldn’t visit their station?” asked Kitsos Simultaneously, the AR connections and the wall-screen in the hanger started streaming a video. At first, an external view of the station. A circle of ‘tin cans’ - repurposed fuel tanks with a clumsily attached EM turret. There were two airlocks at the sides. All the cans showed signs of wear and damage, which wasn’t particularly reassuring for a future centre of operations. Next, the video went through a montage of various internal recordings. Empty living bunks. A mixture of active and disabled cybershells in the corridors. An empty and badly lit hangar. An infrared scan mapped into pseudocolours, showing signs of sources of warmth somewhere inside the stations. In defiance to both common sense and the very thin atmosphere of the station, the controllers of those shells communicated by audio - by voice. And they did not sound particularly sane or properly functioning. Somebody obviously called the camera operator by name, asking if the Chinese were dead, and how long would it take for help to arrive. The next part of the video cut to a display of the natives. Lithe, supple, winged green lizards. Focused and definitely sapient - connecting to terminals, typing commands. The audio relayed the clicks of their speech, which sounded unusual even compared to the !Kung language. There were no less than five of them. “Wow!” exclaimed Igor. Daiki merely shook his head in surprise. Caine slightly masked his reaction by admitting, “Apparently this is not the video I was given.” It seemed that he wasn’t worried about lizards as much as about something he saw earlier in the video. Alex spoke up, softly. “This is wrong. And it can be corrected. And then we can proceed . . . with . . . another . . . assignment.” We? The spirit of pain was smiling, showing off its claws, then proceeded to start slowly cutting small pieces off Alex’s skull. You won’t be proceeding with anything. You no longer exist, remember. The AI companion intercepted the dialog. Meanwhile, Alex mentally replied to the spirit. Go away. I’ll finish this project, no matter how hard you try to steal my time. Last edited by Clancy; 06-10-2013 at 04:58 PM.