[Undisclosed location, Vulcan]
14th Day in the month of Tasmeen, YS 9021
"Explain the delay."
"The program is highly adaptive, t'sai. It appears to have strong objections towards outside interference. You are certain this is not proof of sentient behavior?"
The tall, teal eyed woman gave the young one hammering away at a multi-colored screen a long look before pointing at the list of readouts detailing each failed attempt to introduce a Valit into the program he was speaking of.
"These are designed to adapt to changing circumstances and rewrite themselves as the situation demands, yes? Do you consider them sentient, Tevor?"
"Since you ask, t'sai, there has been an ongoing debate concerning this subject. I would be pleased to …"
"Another time."
He had not expected of course that the councilwoman would be inclined to join the debates which erupted among the young Vulcan and his colleagues on a regular basis, but it would have been most intriguing to for once have an outside perspective interjected. Giving the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, Tevor fixed his eyes on another string of code changing right there before him on the screen. Whoever had designed this program had been thorough indeed. And if he did not believe T'Pelar would never ask him to manipulate a sentient creature, …
"Ah, of course. Quite logical."
He could neither hear nor see the eyebrow climbing behind him but knew it was happening all the same.
"We shall have access presently, t'sai." The young man with the surprisingly gentle honey-colored eyes explained "It was merely a matter of…"
"The Valit is proceeding?"
"Indeed." He sounded pleased, having solved the puzzle, but as information continued to roll across the screen, doubt began to manifest itself again. How most unusual…
"You will leave me now."
This time, Tevor blinked. But one did not argue with T'Pelar, nor ask questions if she was not inclined to offer explanations. At least not unless one had solid logic to back up the argument. Since he did not, the young man obediently relinquished the seat and made for the exit, casting one last glance at the screen. If this was a spy program as T'Pelar had suggested, meant to be introduced covertly and seek out specific information before effecting an escape by unconventional means, it was at once the work of a genius and utterly useless. Because it was terribly difficult to stop or interfere with, but a child could trace its tracks. Perhaps T'Pelar meant to remedy this problem, for whatever purpose Tevor was not certain he wished to debate either, but he doubted it would be possible. The program was simply too complex.
Worst of all, the entire undertaking seemed illogical.
Tevor decided it must be simple scientific curiosity that compelled the councilwoman to pursue this matter, after all the program was most fascinating. And if it was classified, as logic would suggest it was, he had no place prying.
Unfortunate, though. He would have found it most gratifying to see these beautiful codes 'in action' as it were.
When the young one had left, T'Pelar watched the Valit's progress on the screen, chin resting on her folded hands. Yes, the program was incredibly adaptive. But like anything fighting for survival, it could be made to experience fear and prompted to take desperate actions. Not that T'Pelar truly thought this string of codes would actually feel anything; it was merely designed to simulate such things. However, in this case the simulated emotion would be its undoing, for despair made one.. incautious.
A rapidly blinking section of the screen announced that young Tevor and his colleagues had indeed been a prudent choice. Nodding silently to herself, the woman in the heavy robes began to skillfully manipulate the second Valit before watching it complete the process.
Yes, this would do. Quite satisfactory.
[A locked-away memory node, present day]
We are all connected; invisible strands connect every sentient being to every other, and each of these to every phenomenon of the cosmos. All evolved creatures progress up a tree of life unique to its environment but, at the same time, related through the vagaries of embroyology.
Perhaps the Humans' develop their biaxial symmetry through the invagination of the hollow blastocyst while the Vulcans develop theirs through a series of parthenogenic duplication events (hence the Vulcan subdermal biaxial fissure), but in the end the specifics do not matter.
We all grow, develop, live and die according to these patterns; we are defined by our folds and crumples and transformations. These are the things which define us as living beings - our patterns. We are all living origami.
How strange, then, to see it duplicated digitally! Oh, no organic being, watching through a computer screen, would be able to see it - at least not without a host of mathematical tools and a pre-emptive knowledge of the event. Mathematics is capable of the same transformations as the living cell, through the exquisite machinery of differential calculus and linear algebra, integral calculation and matrix transformation. A block of data can double, and quadruple, and octuple, and further, just as the cell can, growing in complexity and form as it expands, and with each doubling the blocks can differentiate and specialize. This block can function as a security element, that block can function as a signal processor. This block can devour software code, that block can regurgitate new, modified code in its place.
What magic! What strange and subtle ballet, this synthetic organism, this simulated life! Spinning, blooming with new petals, rippling as it expands; gently overlapping and binding the software around it. A tiny digital blossom, opening to a synthesized sun, fed on electricity and processor time. It was as much a miracle as the bluebell, opening tender lavender petals to Sol's warming rays, so very far away.
But there was no one to watch it, and no one to admire its genius or craft or its graceful dance. Which was all the best, for it and its creator. It might have been plucked from its garden, admired beneath glass. Or perhaps it might have been recognized for the cancerous weed that it is. Perhaps they might have crushed it, ground it out of existence and terminated its delicate blossoming. Perhaps the metaphor of a flower is incorrect, and imprecise.
Perhaps it is best to call a disease what it is, no matter how beautifully it blooms.
[USS Charon, guest quarters, present day]
Kovel stared at the screen for several long seconds before giving the councilwoman a look that held just an inkling of doubt.
"Are you certain this is wise, t'sai? Savant may prove unpredictable."
"You would rely on t`Rehu giving you free access to the sensors at your leisure? The modifications were done by myself, Kovel. It will perform as asked."
The ebony haired Vulcan nodded and almost tentatively touched the screen that would activate the dormant program, carried silently aboard Guardian until it could serve its purpose in the furthest reaches of Romulan space.
Immediately, the holographic projectors in the room activated and ... sputtered. Sparked. Bright twinkling light popped, like luminescent snowflakes. The two potentates glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, until a female figure took shape in the middle of the whitecap. Human, and of mixed ethnicity, with black hair that floated behind her as if she were suspended underwater. Gravity seemed to be merely a suggestion as the figure began to move, keeping just a few inches from the floor.
She blinked, and her smile was immediate and genuine. She spoke fluent Vulcan without trace of accent. "T'nar pak sorat y'rani. Lasha etwel." ((note: for the ease of our audience, further Vulcan shall be provided in translated form!)) "Greetings. We have arrived?"
"Fascinating."
T'Pelar silenced the male with a small wave of her hand before addressing the most unusual hologram which was – for lack of a better descriptive phrase- hovering in the middle of the room.
"Indeed we have." Sharp, teal colored eyes noted the appearance of Savant as well as the amicable disposition. A brief exchange of glances with Kovel confirmed that the program was operating within expected parameters, thus far not expanding beyond the pre-set limitations.
"You are aware of your location?"
"Yes, Councilor," the avatar replied. Its voice was almost lifelike, but held a certain reverberating quality, as if her larynx were composed of struck tuning forks. Melodic was the wrong word. Harmonic was better. It continued after only a slight pause while the software stretched, probing its new surroundings. "It reminds me somewhat of Oberth. Cozy. Capable." Even a Vulcan could recognize the slight smile that played across her lips. "Are my mission parameters unchanged?"
An interesting choice of words, to be certain.
"They are. You are free to interact with the crew, however it is preferred if you would use discretion in doing so."
Kovel briefly quirked a brow at that- it would be difficult not to notice this software expanding and making itself 'at home' so to speak. Interaction might in fact be the best way to convince Charon's crew there was no malfunction or hostile intent.
"A memo concerning your activation has been sent to the CO, and there has been no objection to your accessing the ship as needed to gather the data regarding stellar phenomena and other items of interest. However it has been suggested a computer technician might be required to see to your … unique needs. Do you concur?"
"I will do so as a matter of politeness, Councilor, and to ensure the smooth operation of the ship." Already, the program was speeding messages to various persons throughout the ship, making greetings and giving details as to its presence on board, as well as advising them that it was available to assist where needed. This was all invisible, presaged only by a languid blink of a holographic eye. In truth she needed no assistance in establishing her upon any computer system she came across, she was designed to acquire, interpret, understand, and assimilate data in any form. The occupants of the ship might notice some changes, however, and it wouldn't do to have them worry over the subtle insertion of her routines throughout the ship.
"I must admit, Councilor, I was not expecting to be making your personal acquaintance upon my arrival. I'm quite flattered by your decision to see to my acclimatization. Do you have a reason for the concern?"
This time, it was a deep, even baritone that answered the Avatar, while the mahogany-haired Vulcan to whom the voice belonged alternated between studying the readouts on the screen and the projection floating before him.
"The reason, Savant, is as simple as it is logical. Your primary function at this time is to assist the Science Council delegation in the survey of the Stellar Cluster. As head of the contingent, the lady T'Pelar wishes to ensure you are not only operating in a satisfactory manner, but are provided with the means to do so."
Of course one could hardly expect such a sophisticated program to sit idly and twiddle the proverbial thumbs while they awaited departure, or even while they were underway. It was precisely that which concerned the Vulcan, that Savant might take it upon itself to go beyond what it had been asked to provide and begin asking questions. T'Pelar was confident the memories were sufficiently altered and parameters changed, however …
Illogical to second guess that which was irreversible.
"Unless there is anything else you require at this moment" T'Pelar had moved towards one of the windows and studied the Warbirds floating in orbit of I'Rak Prime with a barely disguised air of disdain "You may begin your 'acclimatization' process and carry out your objective."
One node, two, four, eight; the software spread with subtle fluidity, never taking more than its share, always leaving enough of a buffer for overflow tasks. Kovel could watch form his screen as Savant spread like blue motes throughout the ships' data network, finding unforeseen crevasses and nooks to nest in. She spread out broadly, each tiny seed reaching out to touch sensors, processors, projectors, displayed in delicate lines that gently germinated and flowered into a functional network. He looked back up at the hologram, smiling simply as it was, and silently wondered whether there was sentience behind it. If there was, it was surely unlike any sentience that breathed.
The hologram nodded its head in acquiescence, already solidifying its code into the unused portions of the optical data network strewn about the ship like a lattice of light. "I will ensure that the Science Council gets priority in the sensor queue, within my powers, Councilor. And, may I add, I'm very happy to see such interest in the sciences from such a high ranking official as yourself! The pursuit of pure knowledge for its own sake is commendable, especially when mired in politics."
T'Pelar seemed to have barely heard the comment since she gave only a near imperceptible nod of acknowledgement. The other members of the delegation would be pouring over whatever data Savant would provide them, and be as delighted as Vulcans ever dare to be. What the councilwoman truly was looking for would hardly be found just yet, but it was only logical to be thorough.
[End Log]
Savant
T'Pelar &Kovel (apb I-Chaya)
Vulcan Science Council
