“It was creepy, the way it kept looking directly into the camera as if it knew we were there,” Andreas said the instant they got back to the observation room.

“Because it did know,” the Programmer responded, flicking frantically through page after page of data on the display in front of him. “It’s picking up on the only damn thing that broadcasts around here; the stickscreen network.”

“They’re not secured?” asked Keri.

“No! The security here is designed to keep the AI from getting out, not stop others from looking in. It’s local, and visual/audio only, so hardly a threat. There’s nothing Kai could do with such small, low-capacity network, and everything here is designed around him.”

“So now that thing is able to watch our every move,” said Cassandra.

“…so now that thing is able to watch our every move, yes.” repeated the Programmer. “As long as we’re in view of a camera graft, at least.”

“How many are there?”

“A lot.”

The Programmer’s eyes were flickering wildly as he read the information pouring out in front of him.

“I can see him in the code. Amazing! He’s jumping around the broadcast loops and opening them faster than I can close them.”

The Programmer gave a sigh, and looked up from the display with a resigned expression.

“I’m afraid we’re just going to have to accept he has access. There’s nothing I can do to keep him out,” he said. “His processing speeds are simply far faster than mine.”

“So what can it do from there?” asked Andreas.

“Nothing much, other than watch us,” replied the Programmer. “And we can at least deal with that. If we can’t change the software, we’ll just have to take out the hardware.”

It took a few minutes to find the camera graft for the room, watching themselves on a stickscreen to pinpoint its location, and even once they were certain they were looking in the right place they had a hard time actually spotting it.

“What do you want me to do with it?” said Andreas, peeling the graft away from the wall like duct tape.[1]

“It will have deactivated as soon as you took it from the wall, but to be safe…”

The Programmer reached over as he spoke, taking the graft from Andreas’ hands. He strode over to the door and out of sight, returning a few seconds later.

“It’ll have a good view of the corridor outside, but nothing in here,” he said.

They looked as one towards the stickscreen that showed the Butcher, centre of the displays now. He was still sat in the same place, eyes open but focused on nothing.

“What was it talking about? What do you think he meant?” asked Keri.

“No idea,” Andreas replied. “You were the one in there. You could see a lot more of its… its body language and things like that. You didn’t get any hints?”

“No,” said Keri. “He doesn’t move like us. What I could see was anger. Anger, and something else. I don’t know…”

Keri didn’t want to mention the feeling of sadness she thought she had seen. It was just too… contrary to everything she knew of the Butchers. To everything they all knew. Butchers didn’t feel in the same way people did; they were more machine than man, more metal than flesh. Their humanity was the first thing they cut from themselves.

Perhaps, she realised, it was running some kind of subroutine designed to induce empathy in others. Was that possible? It should be: after all, a Butcher could spot emotional reactions and unconscious tics on a miniscule level, and reproduce the same. The whole thing could be a charade. Maybe it was running some kind of program designed to win her trust.

Why, though?

“I need to get into the spheres,” she said.

Everyone looked at her except Cassandra who, without looking up from the display, said;

“I thought those would be the next words out of your mouth.”

“You think I shouldn’t?” said Keri.

Now Cassandra looked up.

“No. No, I think you’re right. This time I think the answers are somewhere in there,” she said.

Keri paused, surprised, then looked around.

“Where’s Eu?” she asked.

“She’s… ha… she’s gone for a walk. Outside. She left as soon as you finished talking to the Butcher. I think… I think there’s something she’s not telling us. Not… not hiding something, you know, but…”

Keri had never seen Cassandra look this unsure before.

“It’s safe outside?” Keri asked the Programmer, not wanting to push Cassandra too far.

The Programmer nodded.

“Of course. The last of the large fauna in this area was wiped out generations ago. Some of us go out for days at a time… uh, went out.”

“Ok. She’ll come back when she’s ready. For now, I need to get into the spheres.”

It was obvious that everyone in the room knew what that meant.

“You’re going to have to use a hardpoint,” said Anisa.

“But that’s… not allowed,” said the Programmer. “Access to the hardpoints is forbidden to anyone not specifically permitted to use them. Your corps wouldn’t be able to access them anyway, not when you’re not cleared on the Terminal.”

“Let me try,” said Keri firmly.

Somehow, she felt confident that security would not be a problem.

[1] A great deal of modern technology had been based on the wise old proverb; ‘if you can't fix it with duct tape, you’re not using enough duct tape.’