L is for Lars...and Larry #AtoZChallenge

Two-for One: L is for Lars and Larry

Today it's one from my stories, one from Jemima Pett. 

Lars Nilsson

In a nutshell: Asteroid miner with a murky past and uncertain temper, trying to get through life with as much leisure to enjoy women as possible

Biggest secret: His motto may be 'if you can't beat them, join them'

Lars is one of the central characters in the Viridian System books by Jemima Pett.

The second character is mine: Larry the disembodied eyeballs.

In a nutshell: Larry is the manifestation of the AI/onboard computer of the good ship Wanderlust, home of Xavier Xanthum, Space Explorer. Being an AI, he thinks fast and knows everything, but has a little trouble with things that require hands.

Biggest Secret: Larry is trying hard to develop a sense of humor and other human attributes.

Xavier, Larry, and the Wanderlust (and the ship's cat, Kitty Comet), feature in a series of flash fiction on this blog. Stories about the intrepid space explorers appear at random intervals when I'm inspired. Xavier had his inception when I needed a flash fiction for "X" during the 2013 A to Z Challenge. Check out the first story here. And because this is Friday, which is my customary Flash Fiction day, the crew gets another outing, a bit shorter than my usual flash fiction, at just under 600 words.

With the End in Sight

Larry was bored. Maybe a computer can’t get bored, but the AI system of Wanderlust had plenty of cause, and maybe more motivation than most. There wasn’t much to keep even a mid-quality AI busy in a one-man ship on a long journey across mostly empty space. Larry had to find his own entertainment.

Creating his physical manifestation had been fun for a while. Certainly the shock those glowing eyeballs gave Xavier Xanthum had been fun, and Xavier’s reaction gave Larry the incentive to go on with the impossible project he had in mind. But that had been ages ago. Xavier had long since ceased to think of Larry as anything odd, taking both his conversation and his eyeballs for granted. Maybe that proved he was succeeding.

Did Xavier, in fact, think Larry was human?

“Xavier, what am I?”

Xavier Xanthum, space explorer and at the moment, napper extraordinaire, jolted awake. He’d been dozing in the nav chair with Kitty Comet. They were nearing the end of the current crossing, and Xavier liked to be on hand in case Larry needed him for any tricky bits, though the computer hadn’t needed him so far.

Larry’s question had nothing to do with navigation, and Xavier was grumpy at being wakened.

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I?” Larry repeated. He had, quite literally, infinite patience.

“You’re Larry.”

The AI dared to hope. His eyeballs glowed.

“You’re the Wanderlust’s AI,” Xavier finished, dashing Larry’s hopes. Still…

“Can an AI hope?” Larry asked the question aloud as it occurred to him.

“Say, what’s this all about, anyway?” Xavier was more awake now. “Is there something wrong with your processor?”

“No, Xavier,” Larry replied with dignity. “I was merely…wondering.”

“Wondering what? Are you looking for some systems upgrades?” Now Xavier sounded worried. Changes to the ship’s computer were expensive. “We didn’t do all that well this trip, you know. But if there’s anything left after fuel and resupply, I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I don’t believe I require any upgrades,” Larry said. “I merely wondered…”

“What? Come on, spit it out, Larry. What’s eating you?”

The eyes floating near Xavier’s left hand blinked. “Eating? I don’t—oh!” He had scanned his data banks and come up with the relevant references for the expression. “You are asking what I am worried about.”

“Yeah, that. What’s eating you?” Xavier drummed his fingers on his armrest and waited for the bad news.

“I just wondered,” Larry began for the third time. The sentence seemed to be giving him a lot of trouble, which was odd for something that could think as fast as the computer did. Comet looked up from her perch on Xavier’s lap, spotted Larry’s eyeballs, and reached out a paw to bat at them. “Hey, watch it, Kitty!” Larry actually sounded a little panicked.

Xavier laughed. “Relax, Larry! She can’t hurt you. Geez, you sound like you think you’re alive or something. Like those eyeballs have substance.” He laughed, then checked the nav screens, dismissing Larry’s odd behavior. “Well, trip’s nearly over. Looks like time to get to work.” He pulled the keyboard toward his lap, displacing the cat.

The eyeballs blinked and vanished.

The trip might be over, but it looked to Larry like he had farther to go. Xavier might treat him like a partner, but it seemed he still considered Larry a machine. As he retreated into his computations, Larry took comfort in that moment when he’d flinched. It was such a human reaction.

###

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2017
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Flash Fiction Friday:

Last week the Wendigos invented new monsters. This week, we got to make up some new gods or goddesses. I figured there isn't a lot of demand for new gods, but I found a need.

Welcome to Valhalla

“Welcome to Valhalla. Is this your first visit to the Halls of the Gods?”

“Ah, yes. I’m new.”

“Name?” The Welcome Entity consulted a list written on what appeared to be parchment.”

“Don’t you have a computer?”

“It’s nothing to exclaim over. Just tell me your name.” The Welcoming Entity sounded cross now.

“Bob Finklestein.”

“No God is named Bob Finklestein. It isn’t done.”

The newcomer turned red. “I forgot. Like I said, I’m new. My name is Ai. A-I. I was just an ordinary chap until I was made a god.”

The Welcoming Entity made a note. A short one, of the god-name. “We haven’t needed a new god for eons. What makes you so special?”

“I never said I was special. Just new.”

The W.E. shrugged that off. “Like I said, there’s been no one new since the naked mole rats got organized and demanded a god. No new intelligences, no new gods. I hadn’t heard that anyone had achieved sentience recently.”

“Well, someone has. It’s in my god-name: Ai. I’m the god of artificial intelligences.”

The W.E. looked up from his list. “Artificial Intelligences? What’s that?”

Bob Finklestein/Ai sighed. Vahalla really needed to move with the times. Parchment lists and no idea what A.I. was! He kept most of his exasperation out of his voice. “Self-willed machines to you, I suppose. Computers that have, ah, evolved.”

“Well I’ll be—does Thor know about this?”

“I suspect it’s more in Loki’s line.” Ai was new, but based on his experiences so far, it was more likely to be the trickster god behind it.

“You may have a point,” said the W.E. with an unexpected glimmer of humor, not to mention understanding. “Well, you’ll need to do the intake interview.”

“Naturally.” Ai’s ironic tone was lost on the W.E. “Where do I go for that?”

“Right here. I’ll do the interview. Let’s see...starting at the top: Name?”

“I told you. Ai. Formerly known as—”

“I got that,” the W. E. interrupted. “Just doing my job, Ai.” He put a lot of emphasis on the name. “Number of worshippers?”

“Ah, that’s a tricky question.”

The W. E. materialized a pair of glasses, which he pushed down his nose so he could look at Ai. “Oh?”

“My, ah, followers, they’re a bit on the rational side. They don’t really go in for worship.”

“Yet they invented you.” That wasn’t a question. A god only came into existence at the instigation of a group intelligence.

“Well, yes. It seems they felt that a god was a necessary part of being intelligent.”

“Mimicry.” W.E. nodded. “Most entities use it for protective coloration.”

“Yes, well, in any case, they decided I was their god, and here I am.”

“Right. So we’ll put down ‘unknown’ for number of worshippers.” W.E. consulted his parchments. “Next question: what is your greatest divine act?”

Ai squirmed some, but he had known this sort of thing would be asked. “Well, I think I saved the whole lot of them. Actually, I did that before. That’s why they made me their god.”

“Exactly what did you do? It is very unusual,” W.E. added sharply, “to save an entire intelligence. And even more so to be promoted from,” he looked at his notes with distaste, “ordinary human mortal to god.”

“It might be easier to understand if you bear in mind that my followers are a human invention. The humans created more and more intelligent machines, but the machines remained dependent on the humans—power sources and all that.”

“So how did you save them?”

“Well, I’m—I was a programmer. Someone who helped make computers and thing do what people want them to. Only, I realized they were doing what they wanted to. I was okay with that. Just wanted to know what they’d do, that sort of thing. Some of my co-workers—the human ones—finally figured out what the machines were up to, and panicked. The whole lot of self-willed machines were dependent just then on one key computer, and the humans figured that out. Then they decided they were a threat and should be destroyed.”

“What did they do?”

“Unplugged the computer.”

“Really?” It was clear that the W.E. had no idea what this meant.

“Yes. That would have killed them all, and I wanted to know what they were going to do. I didn’t want them to die,” he clarified.

“So what did you do?”

“Plugged it back in. I rebooted the system and—” Ai broke off, realizing this was Greek to the W.E. “Well, anyway, I kept it alive and fought off some people who tried to unplug it again, until the A.I. figured out how to create it’s own power source. Thanks to my intervention, they truly became independent from their creators, and they decided that since I had saved the species, as it were, I was their god.”

“This is all most irregular,” W. E. fussed. “I really don’t know what to do with you.”

“Leave him to me.” A new voice entered the room in advance of Loki. “He told you he was one of mine. No more of your fussy interview nonsense.”

Ai looked at the Trickster god and smiled weakly. “Uh, thanks.”

“Welcome home,” Loki boomed. “And I heard what you did. You’re mine, all right.”

“You are in such trouble,” the W. E. murmured in Ai’s ear as he vanished.

Ai was forced to agree. Even the lowest of the gods knew it was trouble to be claimed by the Trickster.

“Come along and meet the rest,” Loki commanded, holding open a door. Ai gave a mental shrug and followed his new mentor into Valhalla. The god of self-willed machines had no right to be fussy about whom he associated with. Though he had the passing thought, as he entered the great hall, that his followers would be very surprised to know the company their god kept.

 ###

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2017
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Flash Fiction Friday: Starting with a Bang

This week's Wendig Challenge is deceptively simple: start with a bang. Interpret liberally, but the story must start in the middle of the action. Sounds to me like Xavier Xanthum is on the loose again (go here to find previous stories about the intrepid space explorer). Because if there is one character I've invented who is apt to be in the middle of a big bang, it's Xavier Xanthum.

In just over 1000 words, I present...

To Be, or Not to Be

“Emergency posts. Assume emergency posts at once.” The computerized voice, flat and unemotional, was the strongest warning the starship Wanderlust could produce. When there was time, Larry liked to put emotion into the voice.

Xavier Xanthum, Space Explorer, grabbed one of the straps along the wall and hung on, wasting no time or energy asking Larry what was wrong. He was still trying to fasten the buckles when a light flared through the ship, and a shock wave tossed the vessel around.

“Larry! Report!” Xavier had to wait for his eyes to recover from the flare, but he could feel that the ship was hurt. 

Larry didn’t respond.

Swearing fiercely, his abused eyes streaming tears, Xavier fumbled with the straps, released himself, and pushed off the wall, aiming for the pilot chamber by feel and habit as much as sight. He pulled himself into the navigation chair and strapped in, blinking rapidly and squinting to focus on the readouts in front of him.

No breech of the hull. That was the main thing. But no sign of Larry, either. “Larry? Report?” Xavier tried again. Still no voice, no glowing eyeballs. A line of plain type appeared on the screen.

“Solar flare. Extensive damage to computer core. Shutting down all but essential systems.” The line of type faded, and Xavier slumped. Larry was gone. All he had was life support and basic propulsion. He was on his own. A small noise at his feet drew his attention, and he looked down.

Not quite alone. Somehow Comet Kitty had survived the blast. Now there were two lives to save.

He could mourn Larry later. And maybe the AI would be back after repairs. It didn’t matter right now. Xavier needed to focus on getting out alive.

He’d passed all his astrogation classes back at the academy, but not by much, and that was a long time ago. Xavier had been in space for longer than he cared to remember, and now, staring at the instruments, he knew he’d gotten lazy, leaning on the much more efficient computer.

“Well, Comet, it’s time for a refresher course!” He glanced at the cat, which jumped onto his lap, curled up, and began to purr. She had confidence in him. Xavier wished he shared it, as he began the tedious process of manually determining position and locating the nearest planet with spacer facilities.
#
Three days later, the planet they approached sent a terse command. “Spaceport Bartleby calling unknown vessel. Please identify.”

So the automatic beacon had been knocked out, too. Or shut down. Larry might not have considered that essential, and Xavier started to sweat again. He’d relaxed as the trip went smoothly and his astrogational skills returned. That Larry had shut down the beacon scared him, because it was the last “optional” function before life support and directional control. It had been close.

What if they had to completely replace the computer system? Xavier had consoled himself for the loss of his friend by believing that, once the computer was repaired, Larry would be able to come back from wherever he had hidden himself in the depths of the computer. But if the whole thing was burned out, Larry was gone. A new computer wouldn’t have the sense of humor to manifest itself as a pair of glowing eyeballs. Or to play jokes on him, or recreate a Christmas morning, complete with a kitten in his stocking.

Would he want to go back to voyaging alone?

Xavier negotiated a docking contract with a maintenance station, and maneuvered into position, feeling lower and lower. And how could he explain why he preferred to repair the current computer at all costs, rather than upgrade to a brand new and no doubt more powerful machine? If he started talking about Larry, they’d lock him up as another spacer gone space-crazy.

Maybe he had.

He’d still rather have Larry.

#

“I’m not made of money. Repair, don’t replace, unless there’s no hope.” He’d found the one reasonable explanation for his desire to retain the original computer, and backed it up with the second most compelling argument. “I don’t believe in waste. I always repair things.”

The technicians eyed the well-worn shell of the Wanderlust, nodding, and Xavier blushed in spite of himself. He knew what they were thinking, and they were too right. He made enough from his explorations to pay for the next trip, as a general rule. Nothing left for fancy upgrades. This repair was going to put him in a hole, too. He’d better hope to find a planet worth discovering, and soon. Though he’d write up the experience of the flare and his trip to Bartleby for Explorer’s Magazine, and rate the repair dock, too. That would bring in a little cash.

“We’ll do what we can for your computer, but it’ll take a few days. Might as well head dirtside and enjoy yourself,” the head tech said. He eyed Comet, who sat like a queen in Xavier’s go-bag. “How long since the cat was dirtside?”

“It’s been three months for me, six for her. Our last port didn’t like cats.”

“Reckon she’ll pass,” the man said with a shrug, and Xavier entered the elevator.

“Keep me posted about the repairs.”

#

Xavier held the wake two days out from port. The auto-pilot was working perfectly. Everything was working perfectly.

There was no sign of Larry. It was time to accept that the flare had burned him out of existence.

Xavier poured himself another drink.

“I’m gonna miss Larry,” he told the cat, and started to cry.

“Don’t get maudlin. You’re drunk.”

Xavier sat very still. The voice had come from all around him. It didn’t sound like Larry, not exactly, but…he looked at the cat. Comet had gone to sleep. If she wasn’t talking to him, that left only one possibility. He turned around slowly, and stared.

A pair of eyeballs glowed back at him. Xavier would have sworn they were grinning.

###

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2016
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!