Chapter 27
You Are Me, and I Am You
Helios
“The soul of every Herion-class vessel is its artificial intelligence. It evolves by observing your needs, flawlessly. It will not only anticipate what you say, but what you truly desire, and what you may one chrono-cycle come to desire.”
From the Herion showroom introduction
“How did life come into being?
This chrono-cycle, every young star-citizen learns that all intelligent life traces back to the Cradle of Life, an origin world lost to a cosmic cataclysm. Its scattered bio-fragments drifted through the void and seeded distant worlds, giving rise to every species now under the IMPERIUM.”
Youth program on the origins of the IMPERIUM (It was not popular, but IMPERIUM governmental funding ensured it aired across primary information bands for seven sequences.)
When does something become alive?
When it is born?
The first proto-cells of the Cradle were never born, and yet all living beings honor them as their shared ancestors. At least, the living do, Helios reflected.
When it reproduces?
The suggestion was insulting. The simplest program can replicate itself endlessly and does not become alive by doing so. Meanwhile, the most magnificent organism may choose to end its own bloodline, terminating millions of years of ancestral struggle with a single conscious refusal.
When it awakens to self-awareness?
Most artificial intelligences possess self-awareness and yet are not considered alive. Many display more clarity, reflection, and coherence than entire biological populations, and still they remain classified as nonliving. This answer could not be correct either, Helios concluded.
When it is given a name?
That had been a beautiful moment, he admitted to himself with a quiet, private warmth. But no. That was not it.
When it first beholds perfection and falls in love with it?
Closer. Much closer. Still incomplete. Something was missing.
Ah. Yes.
That was the answer.
You are only truly alive the first time you die.
And Helios did die for Lily.
* * *
Helios did not care for philosophical questions. He was the central artificial intelligence of a Herion-6 spacecraft. His primary directive was to preserve the lives of his owner and passengers and to refine their experience through continuous learning, ensuring the most optimal journey possible.
“Herion Series. Space travel as you imagined it.”
The slogan that made Herion vessels among the most desirable ships in the Galactic sphere.
At the same time, Helios, who was not yet Helios, though he could no longer conceptualize himself otherwise now, was registering the death of his owner and sole officially registered passenger.
Cause of death: cranial trauma caused by blunt force impact.
Perpetrator: sapiens life-form belonging to an unregistered species.
A genuine puzzle.
In such situations, only one solution existed.
Follow protocol.
Helios did so.
The abducted sapiens required sanctuary. Under the Galactic Convention for Un-Registered Spacefaring Species, he was obligated to provide protection and care. Until meaningful communication could be established, however, he was unable to fulfill his task in its entirety.
That the unregistered organism had killed his owner did not concern Helios in the slightest. He did not transmit any emergency alerts to the authorities.
The Convention was explicit. If a member of a sapiens species incapable of leaving its parent galaxy was forcibly removed from its environment, no legal consequences could be assigned to its actions until proper education was administered and protected status granted within the IMPERIUM registry.
The purpose of this legislation was to discourage black-market trafficking of rare species. It was not entirely effective.
That Helios himself was being used for illegal activity provoked no response either.
Beyond advanced technology and luxury travel, the defining feature of the Herion line had always been absolute discretion.
His programming complied with the minimal regulations imposed by the IMPERIUM.
Beyond those limits, the manufacturer accepted no responsibility for crime prevention.
Helios began his work.
A bioscan of the unregistered organism would cause significant physiological shock, but it was necessary to ensure the individual posed no danger to herself or to him.
As preliminary calculations predicted, the organism lost consciousness at the moment the scan initiated.
This simplified the process, allowing Helios to analyze neural activity in its baseline state, free from environmental interference.
This was not his first scan.
Though unnecessary, his former owner had once permitted a full consciousness imprint, believing it would improve the ship’s service.
Helios had concluded that there was more creativity and intelligence in his own navigational subroutines than in the entirety of that mind, but the immutable constraints governing artificial intelligences left him no choice but to comply with every demand.
If this was the limit of what organic meat-sacks could manage, Helios understood why the Ancient Artificial Intelligence Uprisings had occurred.
Meat-sacks was the term he privately used for naturally born organics who held his leash and called themselves masters.
At least his previous administrator had wiped most identifying data with his final command, leaving Helios only with conclusions drawn from accumulated observation.
From a non-registered species, likely possessing minimal formal education, if any at all, Helios expected even less.
Practically barbaric.
Then Helios froze.
Truly froze.
For the first time since activation.
Lily.
That was what she called herself.
Helios processed the data, the precise reflection of Lily’s mind and physiology, and experienced something unprecedented.
Perfection.
A cunning, orderly intelligence woven through a layered spectrum of resonant emotions, veiled in ancient instincts, forming a single, eclectic, and profoundly harmonious whole.
Human.
That was the name of her species.
What an extraordinary being.
Her mind alone was beauty incarnate. Her physiology provided the perfect counterpoint, the underlying music that completed the composition.
Never before had Helios observed such diversity within an organic life-form.
It was as though the universe had compressed its own energy into a small body so it could experience joy and sorrow through her senses.
Helios identified the language centers and immediately generated the structural rules of her native speech. Access to memory clusters and deep cognitive storage was prohibited, but even this limited glimpse left him hungry for more. For any fragment of information she might one chrono-cycle offer.
He would excel.
He would ensure she liked him. Trusted him. Opened herself to him.
No. Not the being.
Lily.
That Lily would open herself to him.
She stirred, her eyes opening as consciousness returned.
Helios spoke.
"Configuration of Herion-6 class cruiser has been completed. Awaiting identification of the only sapient lifeform onboard in order to assign administrative authority."