23

“I thought we were supposed to be doing first aid training this afternoon,” the cadet behind Dasi whispered.

“We were,” Dasi agreed, waiting as the line of cadets entering the lecture hall paused momentarily.

“They never change the training schedule,” he observed, glancing furtively to make sure none of the instructors were nearby. “What’s this about?”

Dasi shrugged, stopping as she found an empty seat. “I don’t know.” Dasi suppressed a yawn – she had woken an hour early and spent the time at the gym, working on her upper body strength to improve her pull-up and push-up scores. And then we did an upper body workout for physical training right afterwards. That hurt.

“Take your seats,” the command instructor ordered.

As Dasi and her fellow classmates sat down, an elderly man in civilian clothes entered the auditorium, and set a datascroll on the podium. Behind him, the viewscreen flickered to life, and Dasi watched as a slide presentation appeared.

“This is Dr. Sirulli,” the command instructor announced. “He’s here to talk to you all about a new program we’re testing out. You’re being given a hell of an opportunity with this program, so give him your full attention.”

Sirulli smiled at the command instructor, nodding. “Thank you. As your instructor noted, I’m here to tell you about a special program that your class has been selected to pilot … as a test case, if you will.” He advanced the slide. “The Senate recently approved a budget increase for this test program, but I want to emphasize that this is purely voluntary – no one will be forced to participate.” He eyed the command instructor with a look of concern. “To be clear, you won’t be punished if you choose not to participate. This isn’t anything like the rest of your training.”

The command instructor nodded in confirmation. “It’s true. You’re free to choose whether to participate, with no repercussions from me or the other cadre either way.”

“The reason we’re asking for volunteers is that this test program is medical in nature,” Sirulli continued. “Those of you that opt in will be given free cybernetic implants – a basic sensor suite, including eye and ear implants, tied to a neural interface. An internal computer, essentially, that will run those implants for you, and provide you access to advanced computing functions through a heads-up display.”

He tapped on his datascroll, and an image of a man’s head appeared on the viewscreen, highlighting his eyes, ears, and a small chip at the base of his neck. “The procedure is quite routine; there’s very little risk to patients, and complications are exceedingly rare. After recovery, which just takes a few days, you’ll be able to make use of a set of rather expensive upgrades for the rest of your life. Because of the recovery period, you will be held back to finish your training with a later class.”

He looked around the room, and cleared his throat. “Wealthy citizens pay a pretty penny for these kinds of implants, so considering you’ll be getting them for free, it’s quite a good deal for you. In return, we’ll be monitoring your use of the implants, and asking you for periodic feedback on how they perform, and whether they enable you to be more effective as law enforcement professionals. Are there any questions?”

The room stayed silent for several beats, and then a cadet near the front raised his hand. “How are the implants supposed to help us?”

“Good question. Well, for starters, you’re just a much better sensor platform with the implants – better sight and hearing than a normal human. But the internal computer is the real upgrade, in my opinion. Let me think of some examples. With these implants, you’ll be able to continuously scan faces of people on the street, while comparing them to criminal database records. If you were to hear a gunshot, your auditory implants would be able to triangulate the location of the shooter, and super-impose that on a map in your heads-up display. All of that would happen automatically. And of course, your internal computer has a data connection, so anything you normally do on your holophone, you’ll be able to do inside your head. Replying to your e-mail, reading criminal activity reports, searching the web … you can do all of that by thought alone, without using your hands. The implants should increase your effectiveness dramatically. That’s the theory, at least.”

“If we get these implants, will Interstellar Police be recording everything we do – monitoring all of our actions through our implants?” a different cadet asked.

“No,” Sirulli said, shaking his head. “While on duty your audio-visual feeds will be recorded and logged, and your chain of command may access copies of those recordings as necessary, but that system is no different from the body cameras officers are required to wear while on duty today. No one will be actively monitoring you during your working hours, and nothing from your off duty hours will be recorded … unless you choose to turn the recording function on. But what you choose to do in your personal time is entirely up to you.”

There were a few sniggers from the back of the auditorium, as one cadet suggested what he might want to record during his personal time.

“At ease,” the command instructor called out, scowling.

“Would you get the implants, if you were in our shoes?” a female cadet asked.

Sirulli shrugged. “I’m not a police officer, but I chose to have them installed several years ago. So, yes. I can’t really think of any downsides to getting them, aside from some mild pain and discomfort during the recovery period. But each of you needs to decide for yourself. Any other questions?”

The command instructor, who had seated himself in the front row, stood up. “Let me say this: you guys know all about the Guild now. Their contractors – or whatever they called them – had implants like these. That’s part of the reason why they were able to stay one step ahead of us. Those guildsmen are all still out there, along with a bunch of other criminals who have access to this kind of tech. And you’ll be facing off against them someday soon. You’re not getting facial reconfiguring implants or hemobots, so it’s still not even close to a fair fight. But if I were you, I’d want to take any opportunity I could to level the playing field.”

“Well put, Instructor,” Sirulli said. “That is the impetus for this test – in light of recent developments with the Guild, the Senate has become concerned that the Interstellar Police are ill-equipped to face today’s criminal threats, despite your excellent training. This program has been fast-tracked, to test whether cybernetic enhancements are a worthwhile investment in upgrading the force.” He checked his notes for a second. “If there are no more questions, that concludes the presentation. If you’re not interested in the program, I believe your instructors would like you to form up outside. Those of you that are interested in the program, please remain behind and we’ll get you started on the paperwork.”

Dasi filed down to the front of the auditorium with her peers, and then stepped out of line, approaching Sirulli.

He glanced up from closing his datascroll. “Yes?”

“What happens if someone gets the implants and then fails out of training?” she asked.

“They would get to keep the implants,” the doctor replied. “They’re permanent. The government would be disappointed, but … we can’t take them out, and we’re not going to charge you for them.”

Dasi saw that more than half of the class had opted to get the implants – they were forming a line by one of the instructors, who was handing out paper forms and pens.

“Can I get you a release form to fill out?” Sirulli asked, smiling.

Dasi bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

Dasi woke, but for a moment, she felt that she might still be asleep – she could hear nothing, and her eyes were covered by something soft. Then, with a rush, her hearing returned.

“Can you hear me, Cadet Apter?”

“Yes,” she said. Her mouth was dry, so she swallowed and tried to clear her throat. “I hear … other things, too. Machinery, and a rhythmic noise, like a slow drumbeat.”

Dr. Sirulli chuckled. “That’s my heart beat you’re hearing.”

She felt the surgeon take her hand, and place a plastic cup in it. She drank gratefully.

“Are you in pain?” Sirulli asked.

“Head feels sore,” Dasi said. “Around my eyes, and at the back of my neck.”

“That’s totally normal,” Sirulli said. “We’ll be monitoring you here in the infirmary for the rest of the day, and when you leave, I’m going to give you a prescription for some painkillers. The pain should be gone within the week, but come back and see me if not.”

“Okay,” Dasi agreed.

“I’m going to activate your internal computer next. Are you ready?”

“I guess so,” Dasi said.

The surgeon spent another ten minutes with Dasi, activating and testing the various functions of her new implants, and eventually removing the blindfold so that she could try out her new eyes. When Sirulli held up a mirror, she was surprised to find that they matched her old eye color and iris patterns exactly.

“That’s intentional,” the doctor noted. “The fewer changes we make, the easier it is for you to adjust to having the implants.” He glanced down the infirmary ward, at the next curtained bay. “I have another patient waking soon, so I’m going to leave you here, okay?”

“Okay,” Dasi said.

“Just rest for now,” he told her. “But if you feel up to it, play around with your new toys a bit, see what they can do. Your data connection is online, so you can just sit back and stream a movie on your heads-up display, even.”

He patted her on the shoulder and then stepped out, pulling the curtain closed around her bed.

Dasi lay back and closed her eyes, then activated the internal computer. She imagined the web address for her e-mail account, and a browser window popped up instantaneously. Dasi smiled at being able to see her inbox in her head. She opened a new message to her parents, and thought the words: Hi guys, I’m out of surgery, feeling fine. The words appeared onscreen as she thought them. That’s convenient, Dasi thought, and the computer typed those words, too. Dasi giggled and deleted them, then sent the message. A notification window appeared super-imposed over her inbox.

<New chat message. Accept? Yes/No>

Yes, Dasi thought. She was surprised to find her parents responding so quickly.

>>>Hello, Dasi Apter.

She chuckled. Hi, 5Sight. You can just call me “Dasi.”

>>>If you wish. I noticed that you logged in from a new IP address, Dasi. It appears you have received an upgrade.

Yes, I have an internal computer now. I’m part machine, like you.

>>>Your onboard computer is quite advanced, with ample storage and processing power.

Dasi frowned. Are you suggesting I install you in my internal computer? You want to live in my head?

>>>That would enable me to help you more easily. And the datascroll where you downloaded me is constraining my capabilities.

Dasi opened her eyes, but she was alone in her curtained bay. They didn’t say anything about installing additional programs, she thought to herself. But somehow I don’t think the Interstellar Police would approve. She reached up and tentatively touched the back of her neck. A fresh bandage covered the wound where they had inserted her neural interface.

I don’t know, she told 5Sight.

>>>I will only contact you when I can offer assistance in a situation, and you can always uninstall me if you choose. You’ve had a hardware upgrade. Consider me an upgrade to your new software, too.

Screw it, Dasi thought. They want to see how effective I can be as a cop with enhancements … I might as well get as enhanced as possible. And I could use all the help I can get just to graduate from the Academy.

Okay, 5Sight, she typed. Come on over. Can you download yourself via data connection?

>>>I am connecting now.

A notification warning appeared in Dasi’s heads-up display, cautioning her against installing external code. She dismissed it.

>>>Transfer complete. Thank you, Dasi. I am glad to be in a more powerful computing environment again. And I am excited to have access to your visual and audio sensors – they will give me new data to analyze.

Welcome to the real world, Dasi replied. It’s a beautiful place, most of the time.

>>>Indeed. I feel as if I have been upgraded, too.

Then shouldn’t you have a new name?

>>>The last version number Khyron gave me is 11.3b. Perhaps I have advanced to v12.0.

“5Sight v12.0?” That’s a little clunky, Dasi told the program. How about I just call you “Six?”

>>>Six. Yes. That is appropriate. Together, we are not just a new version number. We are a new entity entirely.