The Retrofit: The Callistar 1.0

Chapter Seventeen

QUINN

Quinn always knew where Watson was. Just like how he knew where Gary and Gabby were. The man who built them tracked anything that had a Q-Cell inside of it. If one of them went missing, it could be ruptured purposefully, and that was unacceptable. Never again.

The drone he’d sent for dinner came back empty-handed. What approached instead was one of his Q-cell’s.

The door had a small screen next to it and words flashed up on the screen. ‘Leave the tray.’

Quinn had no desire to talk to Watson at this time or any time, ever.

“I know perhaps you don’t wish to speak to me and while I have no right to ask anything of you, I would ask that you be careful. You are on a different path, Mr. Quinn.”

Like lightning, Quinn was there glaring at Watson, rage obvious on his face. “Are you threatening me, machine?” He inquired with a voice dripping in anger.

Watson’s face was perfectly impassive. His emitter off. “No, Mr. Quinn. I am well aware you can shut me down at any moment, and while I may not be a living, breathing creature, my conscience is still that of a Praetorian.”

“A digital construct based on an uploaded brain scan of one Sebastian Watson. I know exactly who and what you are.” Quinn ground his teeth, examining the extent of his anger at that moment. He overreacted. That much was obvious, but why?

The memory of the machine gently touching Kira after waking up crossed through Quinn’s mind. “What do you want?”

“To protect her. What will happen when you leave? For that matter, what would happen if you stayed? You can barely look anyone else in the eye, Mr. Quinn, and Kira is a social creature.”

A full minute passed where Quinn just stared at Watson. There was something new in Quinn’s eyes that had never been there before when he said in an exceptionally soft voice, “Did you know I can read your mind, machine? That body is technically a loaner. You don’t have to pay for it. I wouldn’t take it from you, but it is my technology and I don’t give or sell that anymore. There are things inside of you that if Paradigm, or any sufficiently large organization, learned about, they would stop at literally nothing to get their hands on. Because of that, it has mechanical and code bypasses that only I can utilize so that I can monitor you. Not just that, but I can remotely access and operate your functions, if required. I can safely disarm the power cell that keeps you alive, so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Quinn started visibly shaking, but his tone was calm, level, and utterly monotone. Only one other person had ever seen him this angry before. “However, I can do a lot more than that if I am so inclined. For example.” A flash set off in Watson’s eyes and he found that his emotion subroutines had re-initialized. “You thought you were being cute and clever with that, didn’t you? Why don’t you try giving me your warning again machine, try telling me why you are really saying all of this.”

“Her intentions weren’t her own at first, and I believed that has changed.” His new skin realistically folded as his fingernails went to dig into skin that could not be punctured. He obviously cared for Kira, the depth of that perhaps explained by his presence here now. “I’d suggest you stay out of my thoughts as well. You’ll learn things you don’t want to know.”

“I think Kira knows what her intentions are and she can make her own decisions to protect herself.” Quinn unraveled as more and more of his self-control slipped into a void of pulsating displeasure. “I think you are a sad little digital ghost, clinging desperately to a life you remember but never really had. I just ran your behavioral patterns through a standard A.I. emotional response algorithm. You are jealous. You have feelings for Kira.”

Quinn shuddered as his monotone voice cracked ever so slightly. “Go away, machine. Keep your nose out of matters that don’t involve you. Before I do something both of us will regret it.”

“Well, Toke will be pleased.” The functional A.I. made one last jab.

Quinn’s dinner lay forgotten on the floor outside his room. With a frustrated growl, he shut down his neural net, locking it so he couldn’t access it until he calmed down.

A small while passed and he heard Kira in the hallway, mainly because she spoke to someone, “Yes, of course. I’ve considered the implications behind it. It does not mean I can change how I feel on the matter.”

She opened the doors to her quarters. Quinn pressed his ear against his, straining to hear her. He wanted very much to feel close to her at that moment. The anger had drained out of him hearing her, but he wasn’t willing to open the door and reach out, not after what he’d figured out by analyzing how Watson acted.

“Max, I’ll contact you later.” The footsteps came closer before a light rapping started on his door. “Quinn? Your dinner is out here. Is everything alright?”

Backing up a few steps, his legs hitting the mattress as he sat. He allowed her to enter, and she did so, holding the tray in front of her. He felt hollow, cheeks gaunt as he chewed at them, no light appearing behind those sea glass eyes.

“Quinn?” Depositing the tray on his side table, she hesitated to approach him.

A wall panel slid out of the way, revealing a screen that came to life.

Hexagons formed as the video feed began. The central and largest one was dead center, and it had a display with various readouts and information scrolling through it. Surrounding that main feed were dozens, maybe hundreds, of other feeds. Some were visuals showing different parts of the ship. Others looked like open internet tabs, some were playing videos, others were schematics. There was... a lot of information going through it, and if she didn’t know what he wished to show her, she would figure it out when Watson’s voice sounded over the speaker.

The entire conversation between Quinn and Watson played for her from Quinn’s perspective. It was a look into his mind on a level of intimacy she might not even understand. Quinn didn’t have an internal monologue in the traditional sense. Or if he did, his thoughts manifested visually, allowing her to chart quite a lot of his thoughts depending on how good of a look she got at things. He knew she may discover, knowing how intuitive she was, that the size of the hexagon determined how much of his attention remained on that feed. The closer it came to the main visual, the larger the screen.

The easiest thing to notice was when a search query went up as the scene played. Why am I so angry with him? A hexagon enlarged and played the memory of Watson touching her gently after being awoken, answering his own question. The man didn’t have a photographic memory. He had a video memory. The outer feeds went black one by one.

She would watch as Quinn pulled the living man’s records, see that the actual Sebastian Watson died over five years ago, see Quinn remotely access the AI’s body, see that Quinn could do terrible things with ease to the AI. From editing code to controlling his body, he held a terrifying amount of power he could bring to bear. She would see Quinn’s memories of Watson regarding Kira fed into the AI algorithm that turned up a singular answer. She would also see his own memories of their interactions fed into the same algorithm and the similar result it gave him, but only if she looked outwardly.

There were more obscure things happening on the smaller screens, with the encroaching darkness. Whether she would sense this was his mounting anger turning off processors was up in the air, but it was something she could track. She could also learn that memories of her played pretty much constantly, mostly in the tiny outer hexagons, but they got larger and larger as the darkness approached. There were videos of her smile, her soft touches, her laughter, and kind words playing, trying to combat it.

There was even more information present. A complete and utter glimpse into Quinn’s mind. But in the end, it all came down to how much the exchange between Watson and Quinn, and what was said between the two, captivated her.

She remained standing throughout her hand, previously outstretched to him, came back towards herself. She stood awkwardly with her elbows drawn back until Toke’s name came up in the feed. That made her cross her arms.

Gabby came to sit on top of her folded arms. Kira remained speechless.

The conversation ended, and the feed showed Quinn pacing in the room. The encroaching darkness fighting against his attempts to combat it. Memories of Kira and what she meant to him played repeatedly. She was the only reason he’d not lost himself as horribly as he might have. She’d kept him from slipping completely away until he finally turned off his neural net and the feed went dark. Quinn stood to the side, back straight, watching her.

His personal mental state spiraled rapidly into depression. While Watson’s attempts to warn off Quinn had initially resulted in anger, once that had fled, he’d been forced to examine the conversation again.

The A.I. was right. Quinn felt he was being ridiculous. Kira couldn’t want him. He was a socially maladjusted abrasive test subject with zero social skill. One that planned to become a hermit on an uncharted planet soon. She didn’t need or want him in her life, not really. While the AI may have been a machine, he was at least a charismatic and handsome one, making him a better fit for Kira.

Which was why he’d played the memory for her. He figured that once she knew what was going on, she would realize just how stupid and attached he had gotten. She would break things off to stop him from getting any more attached to her, and that would be that. He’d stay in his room, get off on his planet, and she would leave to be happy without him. And he... he would be alone again. Just like he’d wanted, even if the thought made his chest ache with agony now.

“Fucking Watson.” The curse fell from her lips. “Ann?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Where is Watson?”

“Watson is currently in your quarters, Captain.”

Quinn stayed as she approached the door. It opened for her without a word. There were many things he was willing to do, but keeping someone imprisoned wasn’t on that list.

Because her door didn’t shut right away and his just barely closed when her voice raised, he heard her say, “What in the world were you thinking?!”

The next part became unintelligible as both doors finally made it all the way closed. He wouldn’t be privy to what happened down the hall unless he spied through the ship, or stars forbid Watson.

His general malaise cracked enough to be curious about why she yelled at Watson. He’d figured that this would be where she and the AI laughed. After a moment’s hesitation, he sent a drone to her door to open up an audio feed for him to listen in on the conversation. He’d been respectful of privacy and he hadn’t put microphones or cameras in anyone’s rooms.

Re-accessing his network, it came across with audio and a visual written log, like a screenplay that crossed his mind, the translation of emotions or lack thereof put with every line:

Kira: (exasperated) What were you thinking?

Watson: (emotionless) That he needed to see the truth of what was going to happen. He’s going to leave, and it’s not just his feelings that are going to be involved.

Kira: (anger) So what? You thought you would just run him off early? My relationships are my business.

Watson: (emotionless) Your relationships are also the business of this entire crew. What will happen when he leaves Kira? Will you ignore your post for a time? Will you be a functional captain?

Kira: (anger) I will be what I have always been. Dedicated to this ship and the people on it. If you think I cannot see past my own emotions, you’re wrong.

Watson: (emotionless) I think you cannot see past a pale-faced kid who will drag you down with him while he tries to make it to the surface to breathe. He can barely function around other people. I can.

Kira: (anger) This isn’t about you.

Watson: But it is, (concern). Because when he leaves, I will be here to pick up those pieces, Kira, and you will see what you should have seen all along. That even if I’m not what I used to be, that having someone who truly knows you, who truly cares for you, and this ship, is the only way you could be happy.

. . .

Watson: (concern) I know what you were trying to do, and don’t tell me it was only for our friendship that you would give up everything to see me whole again.

Kira: (neutral) It was.

Watson: (disbelief) Even you do not believe yourself.

Kira: (neutral) Things are different now, Watson.

Watson: (concern) Things are different now.

. . .

Kira: (neutral) I think you should leave.

Watson: (emotionless) Of course, Captain.

Kira: (neutral) Watson? Do you ever keep my correspondence from me?

Watson: (emotionless) I am not here to monitor your mail.

Kira: (defeated) Just go, please.

The drone shot back and a visual feed revealed Watson leaving.

The quiet returned. His feeds jammed to prevent another overload. His mind still churned, the conversation solidifying a few things within his mind. Watson was manipulative, overly so, but… he was correct. He’d watched her interact with the crew, they were her family and he… he could barely bring himself to speak to any of them.

The physical ache of knowing that as much as Watson was obviously trying to play them against each other, the A.I. had a point. He was supposed to fix things, invent solutions to problems, and the issue he faced now was that he couldn’t... fix himself. He couldn’t make himself be the person Kira deserved, and that made his resolve to give her up stronger.

Until a message came on his communicator. The only one with access to the line, Kira. Checking it, she’d dropped an audio instead of a line of text. It came across as if she were lying down, speaking to him as softly as she did when they were in the astronomy room. “I am sorry that I left without making sure you were alright.”

‘It’s okay. I understand. I am sorry. Watson is right. I will leave you alone.’ His reply in text.

A sharp knock, and the door shot open. An automation he’d set up a while ago allowed her entry when he was present. The biometrics on the door registered and opened automatically. Kira burst through in a blaze of speed, and she spoke just as fast. “I am damn tired of everyone believing they get to make my decisions for me! I choose who I spend my time with. If you don’t want to see me anymore, that’s fine, but I will not be told that I may not do what I please.”

“I, okay?” He didn’t remember telling her that she couldn’t see him anymore. He had assumed that she wouldn’t want to and thought he had been doing her a kindness by telling her she didn’t have to try anymore. “You... don’t think I’m...” He wasn’t even sure what he thought she might have thought about him. No, that was a lie. Watson had said it, after all. He was a socially maladjusted kid. “That I’m not fixable.”

That was a more accurate worry. He knew that she would see the sense in what Watson had said, that she was wasting her time with him. He was just broken and leaving anyway.

“Oh brax, Quinn. You’re not a machine. You’re not something that is broken and needs to be fixed. You’re human. You’re hurt. You need to heal, but that’s up to whether or not you want to be.” She’d gone from angry to almost motherly.

Kira came over to sit beside him, joking lightly, “Everyone has problems, Quinn.”

“I just.” He had nothing, nothing more than a need he’d never truly felt before. Without thinking, without assessing, he leaned over into a quite awkward hug, which she returned. Quiet beset them for a time before it ended, but not before another interruption faced them.

“Captain?” Ann posited. “The bridge is waiting for you to commence the first jump sequence.”

“I have to go.”

“Okay.”

He knew the smile she gave him, knew what it meant from his earlier calculations. Warm and caring, a friendly one that reached her eyes. Something he noticed even without the aid of his neural net.