Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

Chapter 631  An Inadvertent Punthe special interview proceeding

“And how is the special interview proceeding?” Ayaka asked, though she knew the process had likely been finished in seconds, or perhaps minutes. Comparing things didn’t take long, after all; not for quantum computers, anyway. The only limiting factor was that there were a lot of items to compare, which would take at least a little bit of time due to the quantity, if nothing else.

{Due to the way Warrant Officer Lee was discovered and some anomalies in his scans, the interview will take extra time as the interviewer implements psychological testing measures to detect and prevent inaccuracies in the process or dishonesty on the part of the Warrant Officer,} the AI faithfully replied. The scope of the empire’s brain and memory scanning technologies had been hidden from it on a classified, encrypted server that it was unable to access in the normal course of things, so it naturally referred to the process as a “special interview”.

“If you use all available computing resources in the Proxima and shut down everything but critical infrastructure, would that speed up the process?” the fleet admiral asked.

{Yes, Admiral.}

“By how much?”

{The process would be completed in approximately 62 seconds, Admiral.}

“Then do it under my personal authorization, confirmation zulu bravo x-ray tango whisky foxtrot...” he ordered, attaching his own vocal confirmation code as shutdown protocol required. Each of the captains had a unique sixty-four character confirmation code for command override protocols that would prove they were in control of themselves when issuing certain orders. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Part of the lessons the empire had learned after the progenitor cult’s downfall dealt with mind control as a fact of life, rather than a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream. After analyzing footage of all the known cult assets that had been forced to comply with Rick Ashley’s mana-backed orders, Nyx had discovered that no matter how perfect their behavior was, there were always subtle tells that indicated they weren’t in complete control of themselves. One of those indicators was vocal tone, stress, and inflection; thus, for orders that could be considered harmful or damaging, the AI that would carry them out had to be able to confirm that they were being made of the person’s own free will.

{Yes, Admiral. Verifying identity... verified. Verifying control protocol... verified. Handshaking... complete. Orders confirmed, Admiral. Proceed with shutdown of all non-critical operating tasks?} the AI asked.

“Proceed, Proxima.”

{Confirmed, Admiral. Shutting down extraneous processes... complete. Shutting down normal processes... complete. Shutting down emergency processes... complete. Shutting down research tasks... complete. Shutting down virtual reality... processing... processing...} the AI reported.

“Just tell us when you’re redirecting your capacity to the special interview, Proxima,” Fleet Admiral Bianchi sighed. Some AIs were better than others and truly earned the moniker of Artificial Intelligence. But others, like the one he had been stuck with on his flagship, was more like an Artificial Stupid and was prone to following the letter of orders rather than the intent behind them.

Five minutes later, everyone on the ship had been forcefully ejected from their VR spaces and the AI reported that all available computing power was being focused on creating a time dilation field in the sole remaining VR space, which housed Joon-ho.

(Ed note: Some people might wonder why it would take any time at all. After all, aren’t the computers magical and able to instantly do things? Well, yes and no. Consider that literally every single second since even before you’re born, your brain has been processing input and forming memories, most of which we’re completely incapable of remembering on a conscious level. The empire’s tech can dredge those “forgotten” memories up and use them as an absolutely unique, 100% unbreakable identifier for a person. But that’s still an ENORMOUS pile of data to work through, even at quantum speed.)

{Procedure complete in 62... 61... 60....}

The countdown continued as the conference room came under a complete silence. Everyone in the room was well aware of the potential that Joon-ho had when it came to causing harm and wreaking havoc, and the next fifty-odd seconds would be the ultimate determiner of his fate. If he was still the same Joon-ho, that would be great; but if he was some sort of quisling, he would be painlessly euthanized and broken down into his component atoms along with everything he had touched, and every deck panel his body had been carried past due to the empire’s rather draconian quarantine and sterilization regulations.

In fact, much of that was being done already, with GEMbots having already dismantled the lander that had brought Joon-ho up to the Proxima, as well as much of the boat bay it had landed in. Everything that he had been in proximity to would be replaced with spares from the fleet’s spares inventory, from the smallest set screw to the largest pieces of deck plating, and everything in between.

{Procedure complete, Admiral,} the AI reported.

“Resume normal operations, Proxima, and display the results of the special interview.”

{Yes, Admiral,} the AI replied, then a hologram snapped into existence around the people in the room and they were transported to the timeless meadow.

The silence stretched as everyone in the conference room watched the events of the last few months playing out from Joon-ho’s perspective. Their implants allowed them to process the scenes much faster than living them, so the file played out from start to finish in just a shade under an hour.

Then it was over, and the spell was broken by the AI. {Playback complete,} it said, the two words snapping the attendees of the meeting back to reality.

“That... I have no words,” Dr. Standing Bear finally said. “I’ll... I don’t even know who to run that past. Xenobotany? Xenoanthropology? Xeno...” she trailed off and her eyes glazed over as she considered the ramifications of the first-contact interaction between Joon-ho and the trees. She began mentally shuffling personnel from research team to research team, forming the seed of a superteam that would take over as advisors for the diplomatic efforts that would inevitably come.

She barked a laugh and everyone in the room looked at her. “Seeds... never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “I just startled myself with an inadvertent pun.”