Reunion

Read Reunion for Free Online

Book: Read Reunion for Free Online
Authors: Alan Dean Foster
one hand while wiping tears from his eyes with the back of the other, a quietly triumphant Flinx tersely directed his thoughts at the bright green tiara of an induction band that crowned his head.
    “Open it.”
    The tiny image brightened; a minuscule flare of activation. The hovering screen flickered infinitesimally. And went blank. Part of Flinx sagged while the rest of him surged with anger. So
close.
    “What’s this? What happened? I told you to open the sybfile.”
    The reply of the Shell AI was as prompt as it was incomprehensible. “As you requested, the Edicted informational object in question has been opened.”
    A bewildered Flinx tried to make sense of this response. Easy . . . careful, he told himself. The AI was not being obstinate, nor had it hesitated. Could it lie so serenely and effectively? But why bother to do so, when it could simply have continued to deny the existence of the sybfile, or at the last, refused to open it?
    “The syb is open?”
    “That is correct. I am required to generate a report.” Evincing neither hostility nor reluctance, the Shell waited patiently for further instruction.
    Perhaps there was nothing insidious going on here, Flinx decided. Maybe the AI was being straightforward as well as truthful.
    “The syb appears to contain no information,” Flinx remarked.
    “That is not true. Do you wish me to conduct a search of contents?”
    Flinx knew the AI would not look at the interior of the file unless instructed to do so. It was not interested. Its task was to search and find, not waste time perusing. “I do.”
    “Here is the information.”
    Flinx leaned forward eagerly. The pain in his head was receding slightly. He read:
     
    CONTENTS REMOVED—OUTDATED MATERIAL
     
    He took a deep breath. Something here was very, very wrong. First the Shell had found and brought forth the sybfile. When Flinx tried to access its contents, it vanished, to be replaced by a sophisticated alarm manifold and a stinging warning to avoid the site altogether. Now that he had succeeded in accessing it, he found it contained nothing more than a simple declaration of truancy.
    Why maintain such an elaborate system of dissimulation, threat, and protection to guard material that was no longer worth maintaining? It made no sense. Given the virtually unlimited storage capacity of the global Shell, why delete
any
potentially useful material from anywhere? And Flinx had no doubt the recalcitrant syb contained potentially interesting material.
    “Full fragment search,” he ordered.
    The AI complied. “The sybfile contains no more information.”
    “But it once did!”
    “That is so. The additional material has been deleted.”
    Though he thought it bound to trigger an alarm, Flinx pressed ahead. There was no point in trying to sustain the illusion of discretion any longer. “When, and on whose authority?”
    “You do not possess sufficient clearance to have access to that information.”
    As he persisted, Flinx wondered what would happen first: Would he finally get some answers, or would his head explode from the effort of the exertion? Once more, he implored the AI. The pause that ensued was too long, and he debated whether it was, at last, time to flee the facility.
    “Something is not right. There are errors within the fragmentary operational matrix of this sybfile.”
    Flinx sat up a little straighter. “Pursue and investigate. What sort of errors?”
    “I am processing.” In order to better communicate with humans and thranx, the Shell AI was designed to mimic as well as comprehend emotions. It managed to give a good impersonation of confusion. Or perhaps, Flinx thought, mimicry had nothing to do with it.
    “There are a number of alarms functioning as placeholders. I am disarming them.” Another pause, then, “This is most distressing.”
    “What? What’s distressing?” Behind Flinx, the somnolent security officer snuffled in her sleep. “The alarms?”
    “No. I have progressed

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