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I do not see anything off about the hallway through the drone camera. It’s long, and it’s wide, and it’s straight, and it’s empty. There are no turns and no furniture to hide behind. Only two rows of doors, each closed and locked. There is a chance a hostile might hide in there, between all the tables and the equipment. It is, however, unlikely that they could have gotten in without leaving a trace.
The labs have much better security than the rest of ART, which already is excellent. Even by my, reasonable, but somehow still mostly unachievable standards. Not perfect, but security can never be. I am too aware of that at the moment.
So, there are no signs of intruders in the hallway, and likely no intruders in the adjoining rooms. ART’s cameras confirm that assessment. It has greatly expanded my access to the visual data about its structure 13.5 University standard days into my stay with its crew. I very much did not ask for it. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t grateful about being allowed to perform my job better. It isn’t like I would engage in corporate espionage for no good reason. Or understand much of what my new group of humans was up to beyond the project they contracted me for.
Is that the problem? I’m not sure. It could be that something is wrong with one of the experiments without me and the humans realising it. ART, on the other hand, should have noted it near immediately.
The fact is, there are no signs of ART having intruders at all. And no signs of any of its systems being compromised. Yet my threat assessment simply wouldn’t shut up. It has not lowered beyond 63% since we left the last port on the planet whose name I could not be bothered to record the name of 16.7 University standard hours ago.
I try replaying the record of our departure again. Nothing catches my attention. Only humans being humans. Some were unnervingly nice to me. Some were dismissive as most tend to be towards other humans. I wasn’t introduced as a SecUnit, so I wasn’t treated as one. It was disconcerting, but hardly suspicious or alarming.
‘Is something wrong?’ ART asks, for the fifth time in the last two minutes, like an asshole it is, despite me not answering once. It isn’t a record, but it is close. I would kick it out of my feed, if I didn’t know that it would resort to asking me aloud instead, risking to announce my impromptu patrol to the rest of the crew. Intentionally. It also starts up an episode of Sanctuary Moon yet again. I pause it. Again. All my processing power goes to trying to identify what threat I am detecting. It doesn’t help that the endeavour is entirely useless.
I continue to ignore it. I could say that yes, something is. I think that something is, at least, and I know from experience to trust my own assessment even if I cannot explain how exactly I came up with it. I just cannot articulate what it is that I am concerned about. Maybe I should tell it anyway. If I don’t find anything soon.
I step into the hallway and look at it myself. Nothing. My other drones have similar data about my surroundings. I walk along the length of the hall, looking carefully at the walls and the doors. Still nothing. There are a number of unidentifiable stains and scratches, but they are old enough that even I cannot argue that they should be a concern. ART does try to keep itself as pristine as it can, but some minor damage tends to stay for some time before it gets to it. Iris thinks that it is fun. She herself often has ink stains and ‘doodles’ across her skin. ART never agrees with her, but neither does it say anything else on the topic. Maybe being raised by humans gives it strange habits. Or maybe it is simply indulging them. I can never tell.
‘Can I look inside?’ I ask, coming to a stop next to one of the doors. I only have emergency access to all the rooms here. It isn’t exactly an emergency yet. I’m not sure I should have access at all, but at least ART understands the basic security necessities.
The door slides open after a millisecond of hesitation. But it does slide open anyway.
‘Thank you,’ I tell it reluctantly. ART doesn’t have to help me when I can’t even explain to it why I need it.
‘Of course,’ it replies. ‘Anything else I can do?’ And then starts playing Sanctuary Moon on one of the walls in the lab. I glare at one of its cameras, trying not to look through it myself. ‘I can assure you that I am monitoring my internal state as well,” it adds, “and will inform you if there is a need for an investigation.’
I do not doubt that it is. I simply cannot shake the knowledge that it might miss something by itself. It wouldn’t be the first time. The fact that it is so competent, and thus confident only adds to the risk of it.
‘Have you noticed anything?’ I ask instead of pointing it out. I do not know which answer would be better.
‘Spyware, mostly,’ it answers right off. ‘I collect a number of attempts every time I dock. Do you want to look at it?’
It is more reassuring than if it hadn’t found anything, I realise. Because yes, if nothing was off at all, that clearly something is . I consider it. The room in front of me is still as empty and peaceful as it was a moment ago. ART’s cameras show that so is most of the ship. But the rooms containing our humans are an expected exception.
‘Yes,’ I answer. It is something new to investigate. ART sends me the files over. All marked and contained properly.
I take a seat on the lab table, and start looking through them. A part of me is still monitoring the ship, but I allow most of me to focus on the code before me. And on talking to ART about it. Some of it is even interesting, and could have done some damage if not quarantined properly. It helps to put my mind at ease about ART’s cautiousness. It also vindicated my suspicions somewhat.
After a few programs, I even play my favourite episode of Sanctuary Moon myself. It isn’t very distracting when I watch it so often.
I let ART decide the next one.