Chapter Nine

Things happen! Another chapter is finished! I'm more than halfway finished! There's a steampunky android! There's one really bad innuendo! I got eleven hours of sleep last night! So did Stranger! Woo! 


There was a brief moment of peace after that, not even long enough to extend into boredom. Stranger would have been glad of boredom. But then a speaker crackled from the ceiling, "This is the Boston Police. Please leave the building with your hands where we can see them."

Stranger turned to Caroline. She grimaced, and said, "Of course he would put innocent lives on the line. He doesn't care." She shook her head.

"So what do we do now?" Stranger asked her.

"Go out with our hands up," she told him. "Unless you want to make the BPD brave the office."

"I'm not at all interested in doing that," Stranger assured her. "I just don't want to have to brave it myself."

"It's directional," she told him, standing and heading for the door once more. "We'll be completely safe."

"So you say," Strange said.

"Yes, so say I. Come on, George."

George followed, the laptop perched on one arm and tapping things in with the other. Stranger took him by the shoulder and guided him around the things he would have otherwise walked into, like doors, walls, and stairs. They stopped every so often, when Caroline had to punch in yet another number into yet another keypad. The announcement was repeated every minute or so, and Stranger was beginning to wonder whether they made it pruposefully irritating, just to get the criminals to give themselves up to make it stop.

They arrived back at the front door, the basement staircase leading up, and Caroline punched in yet another number. Her finger hovered over the 'enter' button, though, and she looked over at George and Stranger. "You two might want to go upstairs first," she said. "This is basically a self-destruct code. I'd rather you two weren't destructed."

"Much obliged," Stranger told her, and hauled George up the stairs and opened the door, before raising his hands as high as they could go. George raised one hand, but the other was still holding the laptop and therefore could only be raised so much. Stranger honestly worried about his lack of self-preservation instinct sometimes.

As far as he could tell through the glare of spotlights and streetlights and various other lights, many of which were flashing, the door was surrounded by police cars and SWAT members and the occasional news camera. Stranger felt important, just for a moment, beneath the dread of getting sent to prison for eternity. Hi, family. I always told you I'd be famous.

Behind him, he heard a hiss and a muffled thud, felt a huge concussion of air that knocked him to his knees, and then Caroline appeared behind him, her hands also above her head. "Sorry," she called to the officers. "Just doing a little last minute finishing up. The boys were a bit messy." Stranger could hear a note of satisfaction in her voice. "I was a /lot/ messy."

He desperately wanted to turn around and look, but the knowledge that there were probably snipers pointing rifles at him, and definitely a lot of other guns staring him in the face, made him stay still. George, on the other hand, did turn, one hand still holding the laptop and somehow still upright, and said, "Oh, wicked. Is that a quick-deploy self-hardening foam? Maybe a variation on certain insulations?"

"Yes," Caroline said, a serene smile on her face. "Heat resistant up to 3000 degrees Celsius, shatter-proof, highly resistant to serrated implements, and, best of all, filling absolutely every nook and cranny of every single airspace below street-level on this block. They're going to be excavating for /years/."

"Not to interrupt your geek-fest," Stranger said, as calmly as he could manage, watching various official and terrifying people approach. "But could you please deal with the fact that we are about to be arrested so hard our kids are going to go to court for it, perhaps?"

"Already dealt with," she said.

Then Stranger saw a gentleman who looked strangely familiar bustle his way through all the guns pointing at them. He seemed to be declaring something of importance, and as he came closer, Stranger caught, "of them. Yes, of course, sir, this is far above your jurisdiction. You've stumbled on something beyond your ken, gentlemen, it's best to let it be and allow those with the proper knowledge to deal with it." Pulling up in front of them, the gentleman - he gave off some sort of aura that made it impossible to think of him as anything but; he gave the impression of being portly and British as well as people who were both - said, "Excuse me, lady and gentlemen, but you are as of now remanded to my custody and the custody of Mr. Havisham, my assistant."

At the mention of an assistant, Stranger's eye was irresistibly drawn to the big and burly figure following him. It was impressive that he'd managed to miss him for so long. Everyone else seemed to think so, as well, because there was a general shuffling about to get as far away from him as possible without actually appearing to move and therefore draw attention to themselves. Even the SWAT team seemed slightly intimidated, although that might have been his uniform. It was the kind of uniform that was black because it hid bloodstains well. He was also familiar, in the way that large rock formations become familiar if you've heard them rumble a threat of rock fall more than once.

The three of them followed the bustling man and his personal mountain out throw the crowd, past screaming reporters, and to a van that, given twenty years and a spray-paint paint job, would be called a creeper van, and were led into the back, a simple holding cell on wheels. The doors closed behind them, and there was an audible set of clicks as locks locked and latches latched. They were very secured. That was when Caroline took a deep breath, and visibly relaxed against the hard seat back.

"Was the officious little man back there Jean?" Stranger asked her.

She nodded, her eyes closed.

"And was the man-mountain Agent MacAlleister's partner?"

Nod.

"You people work fast."

Emphatic nod, and then a finger put to her lips - shhh.

The van started moving, then, and he and George followed Caroline's shining example and got some actual, real sleep, as opposed to being knocked unconscious by electricity.

-----

When Stranger woke up, they were in a parking garage, presumably still in Boston, because Stranger had had only enough sleep to realize how bone-tired he was getting. Jean was standing at the back of the van, discussing something quietly with Caroline. She was firmly, but still very quietly, lectuiring him on something or other, presumably the fact that she wouldn't break. Stranger could empathize with Jean. Something about Caroline made him want to protect her, even though at this point she'd proven herself about a thousand times more capable of protecting herself and everyone in her care than Stranger was at managing to stay sober. It didn't change the fact that he wanted to keep her safe on the sidelines. Maybe it was something bred into the peerage, he thought, as he stretched and tried to roll the cricks and stiffness out of his back and shoulders. If the ladies projected an aura of helplessness, then they were more likely to end up protected by some big strong Duke of Something-or-Other. Therefore, the more noble the nobility, the more helpless-seeming the women. Made sense.

Getting up, he crossed the van to Jean and Caroline. "I hate to break this up, but could we possibly go somewhere inside? As in, not in a cold parking garage? Preferably with beds where I can actually sleep for a bit?"

"Of course," Jean said distractedly. "Just follow Agent Havisham inside." And sure enough, Big and Burly was standing off towards the aisle, looking official and not all all eaves-drop-y, arms behind his back and sunglasses on.

Stranger ambled over to him. "Is Havisham your real name?" he asked him. "It sounds a bit... canonical. Dickensian. Something like that."

"I liked Great Expectations," Havisham said. "Come on." He turned and started walking away, one of his steps at least a step and a half of Stranger's.

"Where's George, if you don't mind me asking?" Stranger asked.

"Already inside. He's in some sort of fugue state with that laptop he grabbed, but Jean tells me that's not unusual."

"Not particularly, no," Stranger said, trotting along to keep up. "Whenever he's found a new branch of math to revolutionize, he'll do that."

"As long as it doesn't pose a threat to security, I'm fine with that," Agent Havisham said. They walked along in silence, out the garage and into a walkway reminiscent of the kind found at airports, leading from the plane to the building. Stranger felt like a more or less equal trip was being made here - for some reason, halfway along and up the ramp, his ears popped, and the room became noticeably cooler. When Stranger looked at Havisham, a bit askance, he said, "Air lock. Nothing major."

Stranger didn't know what to say, so he Kept his Mouth Shut.

At the other end of the hallway, maybe three hundred yards from the garage, they left through a set of double glass doors, and Stranger found himself in a room like the antechamber to a CEO's office. A very wealthy CEO, with a lot of clout. It was modern, but a plush modern, with brushed stainless steal and glass alternating with black leather couches that looked like they'd be amazingly comfortable. Then, ruining the image (or perhaps completing it), sprawled on one of the couches, his feet on the glass coffee table, sat George, with the laptop still on his lap and a fierce scowl of concentration on his face. He was completely ignoring the plate of ham sandwiches set out by his feet and a slightly irritated Agent MacAlleister, who was looked like she'd been being ignored for a while.

"Don't bother me," he muttered, tapping away madly.

"Wasn't going to," Stranger told him.

"Not you, her. She keeps trying to check my work."

"Bad idea," Stranger told MacAlleister. "His notes have given lesser people you migraines, hernias, and occasionally split lips. We're not sure how. I personally think he's possessed by Tesla, but that's just me."

She ignored him in favor of stalking off thorugh an open archway. "Fine, be that way," Stranger told her. "Can I have a sandwich?"

"Sure," George muttered. "I'm not going to."

"Eating's good for you, dude."

"This is more important." He continued tapping. "Also, I believe I may have created an artificial intelligence, but as for the moment, it is still confined to the laptop. I hope no one minds."

"Can we name it Alice?" Stranger asked him, collapsing in the couch across the table and snagging a sandwich.

"Should it decide on a gender, should it be female, and should it like the name Alice, sure," George said. Stranger glanced up at Havisham, who was looking the slightest bit incredulous.

"Is he serious?" Havisham asked, sotto voice.

"Completely," Stranger said, kicking back and taking a bite. It was quite a good sandwich. Continuing on, mouth full, he said, "George doesn't mess around with stuff like this. I'm honestly only a little surprised he hasn't tackled this before."

"It's because there were sparkly lasers," George said. He tapped once more, then triumphantly leaned back in his seat. "Do you have any place I could possibly plug this in? I want it to have a good view of the world when it becomes conscious."

Havisham paused for a moment, then said, "Sure. But there's two rules - one, nothing that happens when it's plugged in is my fault; two, you have to allow me to disconnect the area from any networked device. I don't want it spreading."

"Agreed," George said immediately. He looked down at the computer paternally. "Should I feel this protective of my code?" he asked Stranger.

"You just created yourself a kid, abiologically," Stranger said. "But I dunno. If it tries to eat anyone, I'm shooting it, regardless of your affections."

"Duly noted." Holding the laptop close to his chest, George stood and said, "Well, what are we waiting for? I want to give that Turing guy a run for his money."

----

They stood in front of an android. It was one of the most steampunk things Stranger had ever seen - there were almost no motors on the limbs. Each was a marvel of careful engineering, small cables, pulleys, tubes, chains, and gears causing the fully articulated joints to function. Coated in some sort of clear alloy - maybe aluminum-based? - it looked like someone had seen a Victorian-era chess-playing robot, and decided, /I want one that does everything./ It gave Stranger the chills, looking at it, from sheer awe. So much work had gone into making a thing of copper and steel work like a human body, it was shocking. It also sent Stranger into new depths of the uncanny valley effect, because the face... The face was not exactly normal in appearance. It was coated in the same clear alloy as the rest of the body, or some sort of rubber that appeared the same, but the issue was that it was /clear/. He could see the workings, the gearage and tiny rods and elastics and chains that made it work like a normal human's face. And it was creepy as fuck.

No one else seemed to mind, though, Havisham presumably because he'd seen the thing before, and George because he was all but cooing over his laptop by this point. It would have been funny if Stranger weren't being severely creeped out.

"So how do I load the program onto it?" George asked.

"Just take the cable and attach to the back of the thing's head," Havisham told him. "There's a little flap, you should see it."

George found it, and Stranger watched in horror as a small bit of the back of the skull came away in George's hand. Evidently without qualms, George inserted the cable into the resulting hole, then looked back to the computer. "It's working, wicked," he said happily. "If it works, can I keep it?"

"I don't see why not," Havisham said with a shrug. "We've been trying to find a buyer for it for a while. No one wants it, apparently. Too freaky."

"You know, I just don't see it," George said, giving it a critical examination. "How could this be creepy?" The thing's eyes opened and started fluttering, almost too fast for the eye to see. Stranger backed up a step.

"It will be finished downloading in approximately five seconds," George said, glancing at the laptop and bouncing on his toes. "Four, threetwoone."

There was a moment when the three of them held their breath. Then the automaton's eyes stopped fluttering, it said, "Compiling," and then, slowly, it raised one hand up and examined it.

"Okay," Stranger said, from his position half behind Havisham. "I have to admit, this is one of the coolest things I've ever seen."

The automaton looked up at him and he froze. "Hello," it said, in a basso profundo voice. "I'm glad you appreciate my sense of aesthetics."

Stranger blinked at it - at him. "Do you sound sort of like Darth Vader on purpose?" he asked him.

"Partly it is because of my cooling system and the intake of air necessary for speech creating a hissing noise," the automaton said. "But partially it is because I find it entertaining."

Stranger looked at George. "You gave it a sense of humor?" he asked.

"Well, I wasn't about to send a Terminator into the world," George said.

"I appreciate that," the automaton said. "Might I ask what my name is?"

"Alice," Stranger said, before either of the other humans could get a word in. "Your name is Alice."

The automaton paused. "I like it," he said. "I am Alice." George cracked up.

Havisham looked from Stranger to Alice to George, looking a little horrified. "I had nothing to do with any of this," he said. "Especially not with Darth Alice here."

"Duly noted," George said, then yawned so wide that Stranger was a little worried he might crack something. He looked surprised at himself at that. "Ah, do you have somewhere I could pass out for a couple hours?"

"Sure," Havisham said. "But you have to bring Alice here with you. And it has to promise to stay where it gets put."

"I do," Alice said solemnly. "I will not stir. I would appreciate access to the rest of George Lucas' works, though, if that should be possible."

"I'll work on it," Havisham said, and then warily backed out of the room. The three of them followed him out, and that was where Stranger's coherent memories finally cut out for a while. He knew that he, at some point, ate a full meal, for the first time in days; showered thoroughly - he did not consider the decon shower an actual shower; took care of various bodily necessities, including but not limited to shaving as much of his face he had access to and combing the fauxburns; and slept. The sleeping was very nice, even if the dreams were like movie blockbusters on acid, sent through a blender. Which  was completely understandable.

When he did come back to full consciousness, it was to the less-than-pleasant view of Alice's face less than a foot from his. Of course, the upside to this was that he had sudden, incontrovertible proof that the past - he didn't even know how long anymore - had been real. Or at least parts of it had been. And parts were more than enough to let him know that he was both completely fucked, and intent on sending at least a certain Sir Dick to the seventh circle of hell before he succumbed to his fuckedness himself.

"Good afternoon," Alice said. "I hope you enjoyed your rest period."

"I did," Stranger told him. It was mesmerizing, watching the workings of Alice's face when he talked, seeing the pistons and gears move beneath the covering alloy. "Did you enjoy Lucas' works?"

"Indeed, although the prequel trilogy more for unintentional comedic value than anything else. I've also taken in the Lord of the Rings books and movies, the entirety of the Star Trek series and approximately half of the Expanded Universes of all three continuities." Alice looked pleased with himself, or maybe that was just Stranger projecting.

"Dear lord, George created a geeky AI. I didn't think that was even possible." Stranger shook his head, then rolled over and sat up. "What time is it anyway?"

"Approximately noon," Alice told him. "You've been asleep for fourteen hours."

"And I'm much happier for it," Stranger said, stretching. "But now my mind has been drawn to the fact that I've not eaten in fourteen hours. Is lunch around here somewhere?"

"Out the door and to the left," Alice said. "Although, before you go, you may want to reconsider what you're wearing. Perhaps even consider wearing anything at all."

Stranger glanced down. "Yes, clothes might be a good idea," he said.

Five minutes later, wearing pajamas, a robe, and fluffy slippers, he walked out towards the food. He was in an absurdly good mood. He was whistling. He was smiling. He was, against all the odds, doing both at the same time. He was barely cynical at all, only darkly wondering how karma was goign to kick him in the head once before he smelled bacon and maple syrup. Then he walked into the apparent dining room, where a plate full of various meat, egg, and pastry products was awaiting him, and he felt completely at peace with the world.

About halfway through his second slice of ham, he realized he was not, in fact, the only person in the room. George was half-dozing over a plate similarly loaded, MacAlleister and Havisham were leaning against a wall nearby and drinking something from mugs, and Caroline was sitting across from him and daintily eating a danish with fork and knife.

"See here," he told her. "That's no way to treat a perfectly good pastry. At least have the decency to really dig your teeth into it."

"Some people have more manners than a drunken hooligan," she said, primly.

"I don't, and no one eating food this good should. Who made it, anyway?" Stranger asked.

"I did," Alice said, coming up from behind him. "I'm glad you like it. It was quite simple to take the food printers and reconfigure them to print food like this."

"I'm going to ignore how implausible this whole situation is," Stranger announced to all and sundry, "because I am happy for once, and I have good food, and I see no reason why being in a science-fiction novel should change that."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Jean said, coming in behind Alice. "But there are other things towards which we must turn our attentions - away from self-pleasuring and towards the needs of others."