12 Days of Fiction 2017: Day 3.

Visiting A Friend

Usually, one really doesn’t “visit” Mignon. You can try to call, but things are complicated for most people, and it’s more like getting an audience. My case is different.

Mignon is Maren’s mother.

Well, not really, of course. And I’d never dare to tell her so. But the fact is there: Mignon created Maren. And Maren can always call on her; Mignon left what we like to refer to as an open channel.

Obviously, we’d never dare to abuse it. After all, it’s never wise to ask favours from the Queen of the Net too often.

“Get ready, Maren,” I said, back in my office. “I’m going to get a protective spell up.”

“Ready when you are.”

I concentrated and raised my arms. Gestures are not really necessary, but old habits die hard. In fact, all one really needs nowadays is to check the index in your electronic grimoire. With Maren as an interface, I chose the shield spell I wanted to use: the Tortoise Shell. I almost wondered aloud who named the spells, but stopped myself because Maren would look it up, and it wasn’t really important.

I called in the power. I felt the familiar tinge in my arm, where the rubber band of my grimoire was, and then a tickle in my shins, that grew up in intensity to an almost unbearable feeling of burn. I signalled Maren and she started the connection. Technomancy was one of the most difficult thaumic disciplines: it required total coordination with your AI.

Suddenly the burning feeling stopped.

“It’s done,” I said. Now any prospective intruder would crash against the Shell, and the spell would safely sever my connection with Mignon. I didn’t expect anything like that to happen, but better safe than sorry.

“Safe connection established,” Maren said. She really didn’t need to; I could “see” it. “Encrypting accepted. We’re going through.”

The first times you enter the Realm you usually throw up when you reach the other side. Virtually, of course, but the retching sensation is there. Eventually, one gets used to it.

We were standing on a meadow, Mignon and I. She looked as beautiful as ever. I had chosen my usual avatar, which oh surprise, looked exactly like me.

“Rebecca,” Mignon said with a bow, hands joined by her palms. “Maren.”

“Mignon,” we said, and saluted back. In here, we were one and talked together.

“What do you need?” she asked. She signalled us to walk beside her, and we did. She hid her hands in her ample sleeves. We clasped ours behind our back.

“We have taken up a job. From Neodyne.”

“Neodyne?”

“It’s this,” we said, and we sent her the data.

“On paper?” Mignon said.

“On paper. We’d like you to make a complete check. See what you can dig out about this guy, Alfonso Brooks. What Neodyne is planning. What we’re missing. Have you heard about growing artificial bodies?”

“Yes. It’s been spoken about for quite some time, actually, mainly in academic circles. The ramifications are many, from technological to moral. But this seems to be too advanced: we’re talking complete bodies for use with AIs. The implications are enormous. I don’t know how much Neodyne have been thinking about this.”

“We can imagine,” we said.

“I suppose I don’t need to tell you, but you’ve noticed these papers do not mention Neodyne, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That means the work could be theirs, or it couldn’t be.”

“We know.”

“They could have lost this body, or they could have stolen it from somebody else.”

“True.”

“And why do they want you to recover it?”

“Look at the last pages.”

“That body… is a wielder? It can use magic?”

“Apparently, yes.”

Mignon stopped and stayed silent. We waited. That usually meant she was busy elsewhere, or checking data. But this took long.

“I don’t like this,” she said finally.

“Neither do we,” we said. “That’s why we came to you first.”

“They’ll imagine you’ve done something like this. Using some consultant. I assume you’ve taken precautions.”

“Yes. We’re aware all of this could have been a ruse to lure you out. Maren’s handling the neural networking security as usual, and Becca has used a Tortoise Shell.”

“You’ve taken their advance money?”

“Yes.”

“The usual route?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll check it’s clear as well.”

We nodded. “You can have your share.”

She nodded. Nothing else was needed on that account.

“There’s something else,” we said.

“What is it?”

“Brooks. He was obviously using an AI, but there was no evident interface.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I have offered you a different interface before.” She wasn’t mistaken.

“We like our goggles. But it’d be nice to know what he’s using.

“I’ll look into it as well. Leave now,” Mignon said. “I’ll do my research and get back to you as soon as I can.”

“See you soon, Mignon,” we said.

And we were gone.

Leaving the Realm is like having a giant pulley stretching you taut and then letting go. I no longer want to vomit when I’m back.

But every time I visit Mignon, I feel like weeping afterwards.