Worlds in Collision by Judith Reeves-Stevens Page B

scars from the Alpha disaster were not physical, Nensi realized, but they were real, nonetheless.
    A high tone sparkled out of the speaker and dropped quickly to a low bass rumble: a circuit test tone.
    â€œNensi: this circuit is operational.”
    Nensi was surprised that a machine could exhibit signs of impatience, but then reminded himself that synthetic consciousnesses were legally, morally, and ethically no longer considered to be machines, and for good reason. The chief administrator took a deep breath and at last began. “Are you aware of the matters I wish to discuss with the Pathfinders?”
    â€œNensi: the data have been reviewed. We are aware of the ongoing concerns of the interface team and the administration. We are aware of the interface team’s requests and the threat of an unauthorized shutdown of core facilities.”
    Nensi saw Garold’s head jerk up with that loaded comment from the Pathfinder.
    â€œIs there a consensus among the Pathfinders as to what requests and responses would best serve them as a working unit of Memory Prime personnel?”
    â€œNensi: consensus is not applicable when data are unambiguous. This installation requests that, one: All direct-connect Transition/Datawell consoles be retained until operational budgets can absorb their replacement. Two: The attendees of the Nobel and Z. Magnees Prize ceremonies be allowed primary access wherever and whenever such access can be arranged without compromising this installation’s security or classified research projects. And three: Chief Technician Mira Romaine is to keep her post.”
    Nensi was stunned. The Pathfinders had rejected all of the interface team’s demands. He had the good sense not to gloat as Garold spun around and glared at Romaine beside him. The prime interface then turned back to the console and reinserted his hands, shifting them slightly as the metallic contacts that had been implanted in place of his fingernails made contact with the interface leads and established a direct brain-to-duotronic circuitry connection. This time it lasted almost a minute. Then the status lights above the hand receptacles winked out and Garold slumped back in his chair. A new voice came over the console speaker.
    â€œMr. Nensi,” the voice began, and despite the fact that it came from the same speaker, it had a different tone, a different presence. Nensi immediately knew he was being addressed by a different Pathfinder. Remarkable, he thought.
    â€œPathfinder Six, here. How are you today?”
    â€œAh, fine,” Nensi stammered.
    â€œGood. I must apologize for Garold’s rudeness at carrying on such a long conversation without involving you and Chief Technician Romaine. Sometimes our datalinks can be a bit too enthusiastic in their pursuit of their duties. Isn’t that correct, Garold?”
    Garold said nothing, and after a polite wait, Pathfinder Six continued.
    â€œIn any event, all of us in Transition want to thank you for the superb job you’re doing in maintaining an invigorating flow of data for us, and it goes without saying that we offer our full support to any decisions you might make that will enable you to keep up your fine performance.”
    Nensi’s eyes widened. Even the psych evaluation simulations weren’t this personified. “Thank you. Very much.” It was all he could think to answer.
    â€œNot at all,” the Pathfinder replied. “I wish we were able to offer you a more direct communications link, but please, feel free to come down and chat anytime, not just in emergencies. I think I can guarantee that Garold and his team will see to it that no more of those arise. Can I not, Garold?”
    Garold still said nothing but angrily shoved his hands back into the console receptacles. He instantly removed them.
    â€œYes, you can,” Garold said reluctantly. “There will be no more emergencies. Of this nature.”
    â€œGoodbye, Mr. Nensi,