A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(77)

SIDRA


Sidra stood outside of the shop for three minutes. She’d seen the place before, when running errands for Pepper around the caves, but had never gone inside. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t before. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to now.

Friendly Tethesh, the blinking blue sign read. Licensed AI Vendor.

The kit breathed in. She walked through the door.

The space within was empty, for the most part. Just a cylindrical room with a large pixel projector bolted to the floor. Advertising prints for various programming studios lined the walls. An Aandrisk man lounged in an elaborate reclining workstation, eating a large snapfruit tart. The door to a back room was shut behind him.

‘Hey, welcome, welcome,’ the proprietor said. He put down his snack and got to his feet. ‘What can I do for you?’

Sidra considered her words with care, hoping this wasn’t a mistake. ‘I’m . . . honestly, I’m just curious,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been in an AI shop before.’

‘I’m happy to be the first,’ the Aandrisk said. ‘I’m Tethesh. And you?’

‘Sidra.’

‘A pleasure,’ he said with a welcoming flick of his hand. ‘So. How can I help?’

‘I’d like to know more about how this works. If I wanted to buy an AI, how would I go about it?’

Tethesh looked at her, considering. ‘You thinking about getting one for your ship? Or your workplace, perhaps?’

Sidra struggled. A simple yes would move this conversation along, but that she couldn’t do. ‘The shop I work at has an AI,’ she said. It was an awkward reply, she knew, but she couldn’t say nothing.

Tethesh, however, didn’t seem thrown. ‘Ah,’ he said, with a knowing nod. ‘Yeah, I know how it is when it’s time for a replacement. You’re ready to upgrade from the old one, but you’re so used to it, it’s hard to take the plunge. Well, I can show you what I have to offer, and maybe that’ll help you make a more informed decision.’ He gestured to the pixel projector. A flurry of pixels shot up and arranged themselves in neat sheets around them. ‘You’ll find a lot of merchants who specialise in one catalogue, but me, I offer a bit of everything. I’d rather help my customers find the perfect fit than get a sales commission.’ He pointed at the orderly lists the pixels had arranged themselves in. ‘Nath’duol, Tornado, SynTel, Next Stage. All the major developers. I have a few independent producers on offer as well,’ he said, nodding to a smaller list. ‘The big names give you reliability, but don’t discount the little guys. Some of the coolest changes in cognitive capacity are coming out of smaller studios these days.’

Sidra looked around. Every catalogue was just a list of names. Kola. Tycho. Auntie. ‘How do you go about picking one?’ she asked.

Tethesh raised a claw. ‘We start with the basics. Let’s say you’re looking for a shopfront program.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Catalogue filter: shopfront,’ he said, loud and clear. The pixels shifted, names disappearing, others sliding in to take their places. He looked to her again. ‘Now, you’re probably going to want someone who shares your cultural norms, so . . . catalogue filter: Human.’ He glanced at her, considering. ‘I’m gonna guess Exodan. How’d I do?’

The kit clenched its teeth together. Stars and fire, but it shouldn’t be so hard to just say yes. ‘I was born out in the open.’

Tethesh looked pleased with himself. ‘I thought so. I can always tell. Catalogue filter: Exodan. Now, we start to get into personality traits. Do you want something folksy? Classy? Purely utilitarian? These are the kinds of things you have to think about. If you’re planning to work or live alongside an AI, you have to consider the environmental effect it’s going to have.’

‘The core programming controls all of that?’

‘Oh, sure. Synthetic personalities are just that: synthetic. None of the core stuff happens by accident. Now, your installation will grow and change as it gets to know you and your clientele, but the starter ingredients remain the same.’

‘If I wanted to replace the AI at my shop, how would I go about that? Is it difficult?’

‘No, not at all. You’d want an experienced comp tech on hand to make sure it all goes smoothly. But it’s no different in practice from, say, updating your bots.’

The kit wet its lips. ‘What about other models? Say, something for a ship?’

‘What kind of ship?’

She paused, wondering if she actually wanted to ask the question she’d lined up. ‘A long-haul vessel. I was on a ship once that had an AI named Lovelace installed. Do you have that one?’

Tethesh thought for a moment. ‘That’s a Cerulean product, I believe,’ he said. ‘One of the indies. Cerulean catalogue search: Lovelace.’

The pixels shifted. Sidra stepped forward.





LOVELACE


Attentive and courteous, this model is a perfect monitoring system for class 6-and-up vessels out on the long haul. Lovelace features robust processing capabilities, and is capable of handling dozens of crew requests simultaneously while still keeping a watchful eye on everything inside and out. Like all intelligent multitaskers, Lovelace can develop performance and personality issues if left without input for too long, so this model is not recommended for vessels that habitually remain in dock.