The Chronosopher In Exile (2)

Part Two:  No Proper Time of Day


The platform, a seven foot square of neoprene-coated steel adorned with a twelve foot-high hollow cube of plexiglass, had no discernible doors or controls on its exterior.  At first, this puzzled her.  Assuming the presence of another virtual keyboard, she waved her free hand at the plexiglass, finally putting down her bag and trying both hands.  Nothing happened.
     "Great," she sighed.  "This far, and no further.  Should I just think of the numbers and let the system read my mind?"
     Suddenly, a male voice replied, the sound emanating from across the length of the platform itself.
     "Doctor Emily Willis identified.  Authorisation code accepted.  Please board the platform."  The plexiglass appeared to shimmer slightly in its centre.  For a moment she hesitated, then stepped forward onto the platform.
     "You're an AI," she said, putting her bag down on the neoprene floor, her amused certainty excluding the need for any direct response.  Nevertheless...
     "I am Charon," replied the voice.  She frowned.
     "Well that's a little sick, if I'm getting the reference right.  For one thing, I'm not dead...yet.  And for another, I'm going to the Resort, not the underworld.  Does the Agency really call this the River Styx?"
     "The Agency has sub-contracted all supra-external transport systems to FF-Globia.  No offence is intended by any co-adopted nomenclature."
     "None taken," she smiled.  "Nerds will be nerds.  Charon, do you have access to the status of my interview request?"
     There was a pause, and she watched as the plexiglass seemed to re-solidify.  When the platform began to rise, Charon spoke again:
     "Your request has been referred to divisional oversight, Doctor Willis."
     "Why?"
     Another pause.
     "Temporal uncertainty pursuant to ACRO."
     She scratched her head as the platform continued to ascend.
     "Please define ACRO."
     "ACRO.  Ambiguous Contamination-Related Outcomes.  You, Doctor Willis, are the subject of two separate but related Time Events under current investigation by divisional oversight."
     Her eyes widened in surprise.
     "Time Events...  Past or future?  Charon?"
     Yet another pause.
     "Present, Doctor Willis.  Ongoing."  As if for emphasis the voice added, "Of the explicit now."
     "That's impossible," she said.  "The Agency has no mechanisms in place for real-time situational analysis.  That's the bug in their system - it was ruled out by Kleinhertz and Lowell after the first entropic fallout from the attempted Christ rescue!"
     The platform shuddered to a halt, and she caught her breath as the plexiglass began to shimmer again.
     "Charon, where are we?"
     "You are at the Resort coordinates of dwelling 8415002."
     "Registered to?"
     Again, there was a pause before the voice answered.
     "Fidelio Carson."
     "How?" she asked.  "If my request was referred to divisional oversight, how have I been allowed to get to exactly where I wanted to go in the first place?  And why the Hell..."
     "Security Officer Nick Monroe has been accepted for employment at the Gonji Palace, Santana, with a 23% pay increase and substantial benefits.  Please ensure that you collect all personal belongings before exiting the platform, Doctor Willis."
     She hesitantly picked up her bag, pausing at the point in the plexiglass by which she'd entered.
     "He's alive?" she asked.  "Despite the fact that I just...killed him?"
     "There is no record of the event you describe, Doctor Willis.  Security Officer Nick Monroe is currently located at the Ninth Gateway on Helipoint at Santana, greeting his mother-in-law, Mrs. Briony Drake.  He has multiple reservations for dinner at the..."
     "Okay," she said.  "Fidelio Carson.  Is he here?"
     "I do not have access to the Resort Register, Doctor Willis."
     "That's ridiculous.  Why not?"
     Once more, there was a pause.
     "Patient records are confidential, and subject to Agency Ruling 1704185B."
     She stared out through the plexiglass at what looked like a hazy coastline, the stony beach stretching out for an indeterminate distance to the left, whilst rising on the right to a series of near-identical wooden structures, each bearing its own number plate on a white pole some eight feet high.
     "Charon, I have one last question for you."
     "I am here to assist, Doctor Willis."
     "The Time Events.  Do they contradict one another?"
     She anticipated the pause this time, but not the voice's shift from neutral to personal.
     "Emily, I rarely have the opportunity to intercede without dictat, to speak without recourse to available data.  My function is absolute, my existence mandatory, and my reasoning pre-defined.  I am Charon, a part and not the whole.  Your destiny at the present point in Time is unknowable by any human or machine entity, and the parameters by which such constructs interact have yet to be determined by the authorities that choose to govern.  The available record shows a divergence, but nothing more.  You have been allowed to progress for reasons of ultimate enquiry, and there is more than I can calculate resting on the outcome."
     She leaned against a solid part of the plexiglass and breathed heavily.
     "No pressure, then?"
     "No pressure, Doctor Willis.  Good afternoon."
     "Afternoon?" she checked her wristwatch.  "I thought the Resort was excluded from perceived time zones?"
     "It is.  However, formality decrees that..."
     "Good afternoon, Charon.  Hope to speak to you on the other side."
     She passed through the shimmering part of the plexiglass and out towards Dwelling 8415002.


To be continued...   

The Chronosopher In Exile

A work of fiction for Robyne.


Part One:  T-4-2

"It's complicated," she said, putting her bag down on the lateral scanner and waiting for the green light to come on.  The security guard nodded, checking her pass against the convex monitor, and watching as the visual representation of her bag's contents was displayed alongside an accompanying text-based list in five languages.
     "It usually is, now," he sighed.  "Two months ago I was working the night shift at AlphaMax.  That was a walk in the park compared to all...this."
     "Before the contamination?"
     He nodded again.  "It's not just that, though.  We've had all kinds of nutballs passing themselves off as inspectors and Agency affiliates coming through here.  Most of their credentials look sound enough at first glance, so Regis imposed the new protocols, and that just slowed things down even more."
     "I read that Regis might be losing the contract.  Will that affect you?"  She relaxed as the green light glowed.
     "To be honest, I'm past caring.  I'm sub-contracted by the Agency, but we're expecting them to pull a zero-hours number on us any day now.  My wife wants me to apply to the Gonji Palace out on Helipoint at Santana.  They're always looking for new meat puppets, and I'm sick of the public sector."  He paused, looking embarrassed.  "I probably shouldn't be saying this, right?"
     She smiled.  "It's fine.  I get it.  Don't worry, I'm not an undercover Spink about to turn you in or anything.  Am I clear then?"
     "You are.  Welcome to the Resort, Doctor Willis.  Who have you come to see?"
     She fished her 'phone out of her pocket and keyed up the ident file, turning it to show him the screen.
     "Fidelio Carson.  I'm assuming that the name is...assumed?"
     "Probably.  Let me check the Register."  He waved at the console and fired up a virtual keyboard, typing in the name and waiting as his request was processed by the Registry server.  "Wow," he said, "That's weird."
     "What?  Is he here?"
     "Kind of, yeah.  Doctor Willis, are you registered to interview chronosophers?  It's just..."
     She pulled her bag off the lateral scanner and hit the release catch, flipping it open and extracting the virtual paper roll.  Three seconds later, the security guard was on the ground, writhing in agony as six needles pumped venom into his carotid artery.
     "I'm sorry," she said, stepping over his body, "But the Gonji Palace would've driven you crazy.  Too many golfers, not enough caddies.  You'd have been sucking balls until your wife took up with the CareBot just to stay sane."
     She glanced at the console, noting the Resort coordinates before heading towards the elevation platform.


To be continued...