[Book] IG-88, E-BOOKI EN, pobierz pdf

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Therefore I Am:
The Tale of IG-88
by Kevin J. Anderson
I
Internal chronometer activated. BEGIN.
Electricity flooded through circuits, a power surge
racing through a billion neural pathways. Sensors awak-
ened, producing a flood of data -- and with it came
questions.
Who am IF
His internal programming finished the tedious two-
second-long initialization procedures and poured out
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an answer. He was IG-88, a droid, a sophisticated
droid -- an assassin droid.
Where am I?
A microsecond later, images from his exterior sen-
sors snapped into focus. IG-88 had no sense of smell,
and no eyes and ears as humans understood them, but
his optical and auditory sensors were far more efficient,
able to absorb data in a broader range than any living
being. He froze a static image of his surroundings and
studied it, collating more answers.
He had awakened in some sort of large laboratory
complex, white and metal, sterile, and -- according to
his temperature sensors -- colder than humans gener-
ally preferred. IG-88 noted mechanical components
strewn on silvery tables: gears and pulleys, durasteel
struts, servomotors, an array of delicate microchips fro-
zen into a slab of transparent protective gelatin. Struck
motionless in a pinpoint of time as his extremely fast
neural processors digested the details, IG-88 counted
fifteen scientists/engineers/technicians working in the
laboratory. With infrared scan he observed their body
heat as bright silhouettes in the coldness of his birth-
place.
Interesting, he thought.
Then IG-88 detected something that focused his en-
tire attention. Four other assassin droids, apparently
identical to his own bodily configuration -- a bulky
structural skeleton, armored arms and legs, a torso
plated with blaster-proof armor shielding, a cylindrical
head that was rounded on top and studded with sensor
nubs providing him with 360 degrees' worth of precise
observation.
I am not alone.
IG-88 recognized each droid's full complement of
weapons: blaster cannons built into the structure of
each arm, concussion grenades and a launcher at-
tached to his hip, as well as other weapons not easily
recognizable integrated into the body structure -- poi-
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sonous gas canisters, throwing flechettes, stun pulser,
paralysis cord... and a computer input port. IG-88
was pleased with his list of capabilities.
IG-88's first round of questions had been answered.
He had only to study his memory banks and his exter-
nal sensors. He was designed to be self-sufficient. He
was an assassin droid, resourceful. He had to accom-
plish his mission... though, checking his newly ini-
tialized programming, he saw that he had not yet been
given a mission. He would have to acquire one.
Three seconds had already passed, and another im-
portant question surfaced in his burning-awake brain.
Why am I here F
He traced sensations through his computer core and
out the jack, which he now realized had already been
connected to the lab's central computer -- a treasure
trove of information.
IG-88 immediately began a search, scouring at hyper-
speed through file after file, searching for anything that
referenced his model number or the code name of the
assassin droid project. He gulped it all into his empty
circuits, gorging himself with information without di-
gesting it. That would come later. It would take many
seconds to learn everything there was to know about
himself.
He selected one file for immediate perusal, a sum-
mary/PR tape that had been compiled for the techni-
cal sponsor -- in particular, an Imperial Supervisor
Gurdun who had apparently funneled a great deal of
funds into the creation of IG-88 and his counterparts.
Without outwardly moving, IG-88 scrolled through the
file at high speed, absorbing the information.
The presentation opened with a brilliant orange logo
that displayed orange flames and crackling lightning
that merged into the words "Holowan Laboratories --
the Friendly Technology People." The logo dissolved
into an image of a smiling but hideous ugly woman.
Her head was shaven completely bald and glistened
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with perspiration under harsh white recording lights
that gave her lantern-jawed face a cadaverous look. Her
teeth were spaced with broad gaps, and she spoke by
opening her mouth wide and clicking down on the
words, gnashing her teeth on every consonant. Circular
blue lenses without frames were implanted over her
eyes like frameless spectacles. A credit line slugged
across the image under her ferociously smiling face.
"Chief Technician Loruss, Manager IG Series Proto-
type Project."
"Greetings, Imperial Supervisor Gurdun," she said.
"This report is to serve as a synopsis of the final phase
of our project. As you know, Holowan Laboratories was
commissioned to develop a series of assassin droids
with sophisticated, experimental sentience program-
ming. They were to be resourceful and innovative and
absolutely relentless at carrying out whichever missions
the Imperial authorities choose to program into
them."
She rubbed her hands together. Her knuckles were
very large, like boils in the middles of her fingers. "I
am pleased to report that our greatest cyberneticists
have presented me with numerous breakthroughs, all
of which have been incorporated into the IG series.
Because our timeframe is so short and the Empire's
need is so great for efficient covert assassins, we have
not gone through the usual rigorous testing proce-
dures, but we are confident they will function admira-
bly, though a bit of fine-tuning may be required before
operational status is achieved."
She continued with a long and tedious explanation
of improvements to droid neural pathways, how the
usual inhibition systems had been bypassed. IG-88 stud-
ied all this information, but believed none of it. It was
obvious Loruss didn't know what she was talking about,
but her words sounded technical, and she spoke them
impressively, no doubt to befuddle Imperial Supervisor
Gurdun.
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IG-88 closed the file. He could sense that his crack-
ling neural pathways had already progressed far beyond
anything his designers had anticipated.
Now he knew who he was and why he was here in this
laboratory. He and his identical counterparts had been
built to serve the Empire, to fight and kill, to seek out
and destroy the targets selected by Imperial masters.
IG-88's assassin programming was strong and compel-
ling, but he was less pleased that he must follow orders
from these inferior biological beings. He was a special
kind of droid beyond the capabilities of other ma-
chines. Superior.
I think, therefore I am.
By now, five seconds had passed since his awakening.
It was time for action, so he looked at the biological
creatures near him inside the laboratory.
He immediately recognized Chief Technician Loruss
standing in the laboratory. He focused on her. At the
moment she was frantically screaming. IG-88 could tell
from her peak temperature on the infrared image that
she was extremely agitated. Her cadaverous skin
flushed with red blots of excitement. Spittle sprayed
out of her mouth as she barked orders. Her lips were
curled back from her wide-gapped teeth.
How could she be agitated, he wondered, when he
was functioning so far beyond expectations? IG-88 im-
mediately raised himself to a higher level of prepared-
ness. Yellow alert. Standby. Something must be going
wrong.
IG-88 decided to accelerate his clock speed, to watch
the events unfolding at the rate the humans operated.
Alarm klaxons bellowed in the background. Magenta
lights flashed brilliant patterns like spilled blood across
the polished tables and floors. The other technicians
ran about screaming, frantically pounding on control
panels.
Curious, he allowed Loruss's words to flow past him
so he could understand what she was saying. "His cir-
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