Part 13
it's dark, raining, and the leaves certainly aren't done falling
Come on, Amy. I know you can do it.
I've not given up yet, Emilia.
Yes! Back in business! I slumped back in my chair and gave myself over to relief for a few moments. Then I pulled myself together. Emilia needed me.
What do you say now, *Delphi? Nothing, it seemed. I logged in fine, and settled in to read.
Mother? Who's Mother?
The AI Feste. I checked the list of missing AIs. *Feste was on it.
A self-aware, growing intelligence. I took a moment to think back to the first time I ever saw an Amie.
Why did nobody know about this? Why wasn't it all over the news?
"Dominant beings". What a strange way of thinking of humans.
Its children. Emilia? *Emilia?
Well? Come on, *Blue Sky, you can't leave me hanging like that!
I wrote a message to myself. Ask Mr. Arnold if there's a Shakespearian character called Emilia.
Puck! Of course. Before Christmas I'd written a paper on A Midsummer Night's Dream. I took a breath, and heard birdsong. Gentle birdsong.
I had to see what it was. That's all. I could still get a couple of hours' sleep.
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Message to: *Delphi
Thank you! Thank you!
I just want to find Emilia. Why should I tread lightly? What should I be worried about?
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The rest of the day passed in a blur, and as soon as I was able, I was back in front of Amy.
Fine. Be like that, then. The next thing I did was to log onto the LCL archive. I'd been thinking about ways computers could go wrong, and viruses, and AIs.
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Message to: *Blue Sky
Hi
Do you remember me? I hope you do. Maybe *Delphi's told you all about me.
Anyway, I was reading what you said a while ago on LCL about viruses. *Creeper and *Reaper. I've been reading the Underground Library...they don't sound like the viruses in the real library's textbooks. Who developed *Reaper, anyway? Was it Mother? What was she thinking?
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I kicked a few more messages back and forth with *Blue Sky, hammering out some "what if?"s.
I think maybe he was taking me a bit seriously? And what kind of pronoun do you use for an artificial intelligence, anyway?
Back on the Gibson, the sysop had finally noticed that something slightly screwy was going on.
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Message to: Wintermoot
I am my own invitation :-)
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Anyone who takes that long to figure out he's got an uninvited guest probably deserves a bit of sarcasm. There was even a message from Hollinger, the critic.
I felt a bit guilty about ignoring him, but there were more important things to do.
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Message to: *Delphi
Why are you so damn superior to me? Don't you care about *Emilia? If I understand this all right, you're family, aren't you? Shouldn't you care about family?
I think you know what happened to *Emilia. Or you can work it out. Why won't you tell me? I care about her! Even if you don't!
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I shuddered as I remembered her messages about running away. I should have waited to shudder until after *Delphi's reply, though.
