Synthesis - James Swallow [49]
A split-second reading peaked on Melora’s tricorder as the constructs froze briefly. “They’re talking,” she noted.
The transfer of information was almost immediate. “Instantaneous data transmission,” said Riker. “Faster than we can register.”
“They run on a different time scale from ours,” said the science officer. “Fractions of nanoseconds to process information. The older designs of AI are slower, maybe even close to human levels of operation, but newer versions, their… clock speed could be tens of thousands of times faster than ours.”
“I am FirstGen One-Five, core initiator of the Governance Kernel, active Sentry, actual. We greet you, Captain Riker, and the Titan.” The voice was heavy and stentorian.
“He’s not going to join us in person?” asked Keru.
“I am all around you, organic,” it replied.
“It’s the whole planet, boss,” said Dennisar, gesturing around. “It’s one big computer.”
Keru frowned. “If that’s so, then why are these ones so much smaller?” He nodded at White-Blue’s nexus core. “There’s a whole AI in there, right?”
“Consider the difference between the genetic coding in your organic molecules and your full-grown form,” offered the snake machine, speaking for the first time. “The core pod is a seed of intellect.” It gestured at itself with the tip of its tail. “These forms are remotes, a proxy construct. I am SecondGen Black-Silver, and my core resides in orbit aboard my shipframe.”
“Without the confines of meat, we are omnipresent.” Red-Gold seemed to preen as it spoke. “I am currently performing seven hundred nineteen discrete functions via shipframe, core pod, and multiple remotes, including this one.”
“We are each of us telepresent,” noted the ovoid construct. “These mechanisms you see before you are tools. Only One-Five and White-Blue are here in actuality.”
“And together you are the Governance Kernel,” repeated Deanna. “That’s the ruling body of the Sentry Coalition?”
“Incorrect,” said Zero-Nine. “In matters of import, we parse initial data and offer options to our fellows. We do not rule by fiat. We are instruments of a cooperative will, not controllers.”
“A light-speed democracy,” said Melora. “Anything important happens, they put it up to an instant vote.”
“Correct,” said One-Five. “Only in matters of extreme emergency do we exert any overt influence, and then a unity among our cores is required. Majority intent determines our disposition.”
“It does,” said Red-Gold, “even if that intent is in error.”
The machine made of lenses swiveled and presented the sphere with a glassy stare. “We abide by the choice made,” it rattled, “for the good of Sentry-kind. It is not your place to reinitiate conflicts.”
“FirstGen Two-Seven is gracious in correcting me,” said Red-Gold smoothly. “I accept this. As a SecondGen mind, I admit I do not have the depth of experience Two-Seven possesses.”
“Generation has nothing to do with this,” insisted Zero-Nine. “There are questions. They must be answered. End of line.”
Riker gave his wife a sideways look. For machines, they certainly remind me of people. She gave him an imperceptible nod in return.
The humanoid remote stepped forward, and when it spoke, Riker recognized the voice. “Before that,” said Cyan-Gray, “there is the matter of repatriation to consider.” It stepped closer to White-Blue. “If I had been aware that you were still active, I would not have initiated a salvage process upon the wreckage of your shipframe.”
“It is regrettable,” White-Blue allowed. “Interrogative: Why was my status redesignated?”
“Contact was lost,” Red-Gold snapped. “You initiated your voyage into the outer sectors despite negative probability forecasts. It was logical to assume your loss was permanent.”
“They thought you had been destroyed,” said Deanna.
“Affirmative,” said Cyan-Gray. “On termination, the remains of a Sentry are recovered and reintegrated