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Books in their most rudimentary, bound-paper form were something of a mystery. It wasn’t like having a feather-light tablet in one’s hand. Depending on the design, the cover’s dimensions, the number of pages, the size of the font, both hands were needed to steady the tome for proper viewing. In modern terms, it was a clunky, antiquated means of communicating a story and/or pertinent information.
But as this particular children’s book was more full of pictures than paragraphs of text, Connor supposed that was part of its appeal.
Dennis, on the other hand, had gone into sulking mode in record time. Seated cross-legged on the bench before the viewing window, he barely glanced up from the case file in his palm as he pointed out, “You know, you’re being kinda morbid with what you’re showin’ her, Nick.”
Undeterred by his muttered objections, Chimo readjusted her hovering vantage point just far enough to peek out from behind one of the splayed covers.
Eee?
"She likes the pictures," Nick defended himself, seated in the corner of the window, splaying the pages further so she could take a better look from behind the acrylic. "I know they're extinct, but… she likes looking. Right?"
His ulterior motive for wishing to finally revisit the killer whale exhibit at the Detroit Zoo hadn’t remained secret for long at all.
Face pressed to the window, the once-buggy OO100 recognized them and immediately abandoned interacting with her synthetic companions in favor of bolting over to say hello. And that had been thirty minutes ago. The book was only some hundred pages thick, and Nick had insisted on showing her every last picture inside.
Where he had found said vintage book simply laying around, he hadn’t yet said.
Dennis spared the innocently-staring cyberceta an unimpressed glance. His ingrained fear of the water, and remembrances of their last encounter here, meant he wasn’t feeling so eager to revisit. Being a good, considerate partner despite that, his tolerance only extended so far.
“Do you have to describe every possible image, in detail? As if she gets it - here, this is where your kind ‘came’ from.”
Because a closed-in aquarium setting wasn’t the same as the Pacific Northwest.
Pouting up at him for a moment, Nick flipped the page, scooting closer to the glass as he did so to show Chimo whatever there was on it. "Yes, she wants to understand, Dennis! We both learn, if I explain it. So it's good for both of us."
“Why? You plan on scooping her out of here anytime soon?” Gesturing around the mostly-vacant exhibit at large, Dennis rolled his eyes. “Because this is where she was made to be. The ocean is overheated, toxic sludge in comparison.”
Attention turning back to the book, whatever his doubts, Chimo didn’t appear to answer in the affirmative or negative. Tilting her head to examine the provided photo, she only blew a soundless stream of bubbles.
They looked very white and round compared to how polluted any natural saltwater environment must have been. Scientific communities had long warned about the inevitable effects of climate change, and advised what cleaner alternatives should have been adopted to allay some of the effects.
Instead, man had built androids.
Not for the first time, Connor had to silently wonder at the incorrect prioritization of it all.
"I know…" Trailing off to that, Nick frowned some more at the disheartening details, before trying to turn his attention to something happier. "I know she can't leave. But I like to come see her, and show her all this stuff… she likes it, and so do I. I like the pictures."
“Meaning, you’ve been here before? By yourself?” Frowning, Dennis glanced back at the only other company present - a half dozen human park guests, sequestered at the far end of the window. Another of Chimo’s black-and-white podmates (a larger, male version configured with broader flippers and a curled-over dorsal fin, designated as “Felix”) was serving to keep them entertained, alternatively poking out its tongue, nodding, and whistling. “Where did you find that thing, anyway?”
Narrowing his eyes at him, Nick shrugged, before turning another page and pointing the next yellowed picture out for Chimo to look at. "I dunno… where did I find it? Somewhere… and I needed you to come this time, though, Dennis."
It didn’t mean he needed to grumble and gripe about it. Nevertheless he was.
Leaning against the wall beside the window, Connor gave up pretending to read his own tablet. “There don’t seem to be any other apparent malfunctions. What can the book tell her that wasn’t already programmed in?”
A lot of selective information, at least. Killer whales were once considered a culture unto themselves, with different subsets eating different prey, located in different parts of the globe. Humans had always been resistant to the idea any species besides their own could be so sophisticated.
Because, selfish apes they were, they couldn’t possibly learn to share the planet, could they?
"About natural history, Connor. And she can see the pictures of what real life orcas looked like… it's a good book. There used to be a lot of different types, you know?" Turning the book his way, as if trying to include him in whatever impromptu lesson he was doing, Nick smiled. "I wonder what type Chimo is supposed to be, I mean, if they did a specific one or not…"
Maybe. Then again, maybe her designers weren’t so inspired they thought it necessary to factor in. To them, a whale was a whale. Even if the original assortment of five boasted individual pigment patterns, that superficial difference was one easily included besides appreciated.
Chimo, for example, looked as close to generic as one her type could look. If it weren’t for the glitching skin projection and coded communications syntax she would have never stood out before.
Yet, here they were. Intentionally or not, she had made herself known.
“Her service records say nothing to that effect,” Connor reported, wirelessly pulling up the specs on his HUD for ease of reading. “What… variant would you think she is?”
Nick was, in this instance, the closest thing they had to an expert on the topic.at.
"Hm. I'm not sure…" Putting the book in his lap, Nick began to flip through it, pausing every now and then to absorb whatever new information he was seemingly finding out. "Maybe after the Southern Residents… maybe they didn't really base them off one particular type. Most wouldn't really be able to tell the difference anyways."
True, and there were people who felt the same about androids in general. Customizing one’s look and attire was a feature most owners didn’t care to waste money on. So long as their assistant did as they were instructed, that was the most important aspect.
To that end, just what did the zoo consider the most important aspect of their animatronics? How closely to nature they emulated the look and behavior of the real thing?
By that definition, Chimo was woefully abnormal. Her apparent interest in books was something no wild killer whale might have ever normally taken a shine toward.
Eyes hooded, cheek propped up on one clenched fist, Dennis pointed out as much in the next breath: “And yet here you are, educating her on the matter.”
CyberLife might not have considered it pertinent data to include. But as a replica of the animal with the second-biggest brain on earth, it would be daft to assume she wasn’t learning something from this session. Morse code was probably only one of many Easter eggs ingrained in her code.
“You think she’s getting any of it?”
"Of course! She's very smart, Dennis." Turning back toward Chimo, Nick raised his eyebrows as if to say - well, duh. He lifted the book back up, nodding toward whatever was on the page for her to 'read'. "She's learning a lot, about her own species… the real ones, at least. Of course she understands."
Rostrum on the glass, the animatronic pivoted sideways for another look.
Connor shrugged, left in the direct line of blue fire that was Dennis’ deadpan glare, red LED and all.
Did they really need to keep arguing this? Better to just let their third finish the book, and therefore get his fix of seeing his aquatic friend for a good time thereafter. With the rest of their cases lagging in making actual progress, it wasn’t as if they were missing out on much.
Lieutenant Anderson might even get a husky laugh out of learning where they had disappeared to.
“Pft. Probably doesn’t even know what a salmon looks like,” Dennis grumbled, returning attention to his tablet. Full spectrum analysis of some unidentified green powder found in a coffee cup was evidently more interesting.
Eyes wide, pupils round, Chimo thumped her tapered chin against the window, dragging it sideways to generate a short, muffled squeak - like the sole of a shoe on a basketball court.
No. Maybe she didn’t know, any more than she could know what the words DO NOT TAP GLASS (stamped just below the window) meant. But she could evidently tell when vital information was being withheld from her.
"Ah, come on, Dennis, don't be mean to her!" Pouting at him, Nick lowered the book, almost in defeat, before looking more thoughtful. "But… maybe we can show her, then."
Using what? Crayola drawings?
No longer one-hundred percent interested in his own reading, Connor rolled his eyes at the toothy, harmless snap Chimo made at the empty space above Dennis’ silhouette. Have you met your quota for talking smack today yet or not?
He was one to talk, as each of them well knew. Having off days in which their subroutines unknowingly flip-flopped weren’t unheard of.
Chimo, and therefore Nick, weren’t appreciating the attitude reversal. The best they could do was carry on in spite of it.
“Impressive you even know a salmon is what an orca might eat, Dennis.”
"I can… use the holofish app to show her." Glaring at Dennis again, Nick crossed his arms best he could, still trying to juggle with the bowed-out book as he thought about his idea. "I bet they can make salmon!"
“Have at it, Houdini. I’ll be deciding which lead we follow up on in the meantime.”
Keying off of her friend’s anxiety, Chimo pressed her face to the window again, sinking down lower so as to peer up over the edge of the sill. For a moment, she resembled Sumo, begging at the edge of the table with only his eyes visible.
Only about fifty times heavier.
A remote-controlled holographic projection available on any mobile device, Holofish was exactly what it sounded like. Available in a number of preset species, the semi-translucent likeness of a fish could be summoned, then ‘turned loose’ to swim about its owner as it saw fit. Most often they took the form of small tropical species, such as clownfish or angelfish or gouramis.
Manifesting with one wave of a hand, the sixteen-inch likeness of a ruby-red Chinook salmon phased into existence. With its long nose and underslung jaw, trailing off into a hefty streamlined body, it contrasted sharply with the blues and greens of their immediate surroundings.
Flinching to ‘life’, it promptly slid through the window like a ghost and bolted toward the surface.
With a delighted shriek, Chimo turned and kicked her tail to chase after it, leaving behind a flurry of bubbles where she once hovered.
An instantaneous comparison lept to Connor’s mind:
Now you’ve taught her the joys of a laser pointer. Are you proud of yourself?
Clapping his hands together in his own delight, Nick grinned, before pointing to Chimo as if they couldn't see it for themselves. "Look, she loves it! It's like - she's acting like a real orca! She learnt it from the book!"
And a little help from a self-appointed instructor.
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