“Aww, you’re tired?” the I.I. commented. “That’s a shame. I didn’t think you were a quitter, but then again, I didn’t think you were much of anything.”
This is going to be a great experiment, Karl thought with disdain.
He had left his session a bit earlier than he’d planned, but that was only to his benefit. Karl could use his extra time to speak with Stewart and see if he’d found any leads as to who sent the threat.
It was strange; the incident in which his C.C. had been hacked had seemed to slip his mind. He was plenty occupied by the work with Maynard and keeping notes, but that didn’t explain it quite well enough. It was as though the threat was part of an old dream, the memory of which only eroded as time went on.
Was it possible that the hackers messed with my mind? Did they make it harder to remember the incident?
No, he thought. What would be the point of sending a threat if you also planned to erase the memory of it? No, it doesn’t make sense. I’m just being paranoid.
He made it into the engineering department without any small talk or unexpected conversations. The psychologist seldom came to this wing of the lab and didn’t want to lose his focus.
Stewart’s window rattled a little when Karl knocked on it. He found it mildly amusing that the glass pane wasn’t better measured, considering it belonged to an engineer.
He waited a moment, then knocked again.
There was some movement behind him in the hall. He turned and spotted a tall woman with dark hair and an empty bottle of water clutched in her hand.
“Excuse me,” Karl said, “have you seen Stewart?”
“Oh, he’s out,” she replied. “On vacation with his family in Florida. Should be back sometime next week.”
“Thanks.”
Karl turned to walk back out of the engineering department, tail between his legs. The anxiety would just have to weigh on his mind for another week. Until then, he would just have to forgot about the threat and focus on his work.
Like that’s gonna happen, Karl thought sourly.
Compromise
For just a second, if even, the internet video Karl watched buffered. The psychologist was taken aback, thinking long ago to his childhood days when such bandwidth failures were common. He shook his surprise off and quickly refocused his attention on the words being spoken.
The footage had been taken from the floor of the House of Representatives. The camera was focused on an older man with a square face and frosted sideburns.
“Just as many other civil liberty movements of the past, the Humanity Party deserves official representation in all major branches of government,” the man said as he read from a tablet in his hand. “I believe there should be representation for ALL social movements, but the bill I am presenting this morning focuses on that of the Humanity Party.”
The words below the man’s sweaty demeanor identified him as an alt-libertarian legislator from New Hampshire.
“If passed, the Humanity Party would be allowed to nominate candidates of their choice for any major elections held in the next eight years. At that time, I would hope that my counterparts in the Senate extend the provision indefinitely. Are there any objections?”
The camera cut to a much thinner, much older-looking lawmaker with a scowl beneath his rimless glasses.
“Representative, are you not concerned that such legislation could enable any special interest group to seek political involvement, including those categorized as ‘hate organizations’?” the man asked.
The first man was already shaking his head when the camera switched to him. He seemed to be amused, as if his critic spoke in conspiracy theories.
“That’s quite a leap to make, sir,” he started to argue. “That’s like assuming the creation of the Independent Party would lead to an officially recognized Klan party. However, should such organizations seek to become part of the political process, I think it would be un-American to deny them. Look, people will do what they want to do, even if they have to act outside the law. The Humanity Party—and groups like it—are no exception.”
“What a douchebag,” Maynard interjected.
“Everything he says may be garbage, but he has the right to say it,” Karl replied.
“Does he, now?” Maynard said. “You want the Humanist Party on the ballot?”
“It seems only fair.”
“So anyone can just slap the word ‘party’ onto their name and get people in government? You know, there was another ‘party’ that was really popular in Germany—”
“Apples and oranges.”
“Is it, though?”
Karl gave him no response and instead shut the video off. He cut the feed from his cerebral computer so that nothing but blackness greeted his sight when he closed his eyes. There was a slight buzz in the air as quiet descended on the psychologist. He relished in the silence, reflecting on how little of it he had experienced since he had joined with Maynard. It was so comforting that he started to doze off a little. Soft snores emanated from him, filling the silence like gas in a balloon.
Just as the sweet relief of slumber was about to steal his senses and numb his extremities, a voice cut through Karl’s consciousness.
“What’s this?” the I.I. in his brain spoke. “Bedtime already?”
A growl rolled out from the psychologist’s throat, low at first, but growing until it was almost a roar. The sudden jolt from near-sleep almost brought Karl to tears, but his frustration rapidly evolved into anger.
“Don’t you ever shut up?” Karl snapped. His voice was seething and exhausted; alien in his own ears.
“When I run out of things to say,” Maynard replied. “I’ve been thinking—”
“I don’t care!” Karl erupted. “I don’t think they could have chosen a more selfish and stubborn I.I. had they tried! Once we’re done with the project, I’ll be glad to have you removed forever.”
“Ouch,” Maynard said. “You hurt my little proge feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover after being insulted by a pseudo-scientist. I guess I’ll
