8

There were times I just wanted X-37 to do what I asked and skip the analysis of my every burp and fart. “Please, X, check on them.”

“Right away, Reaper Cain.” X-37 paused for several seconds. “I have confirmation that Elise is waiting for you in the gym. I can also assure you that James Henshaw is in the middle of a card game at the back of a storage area. Shall I check on your other friends?”

“You’re quick, X. That’s exactly what I want. Find anyone who might try to talk to me and make sure they’re busy,” I said.

“Without specific instructions, I can only report on their status,” X-37 said. “Normally, I am on the same screen as you, but I’m at a loss. What is with your sudden need to micromanage your friends?”

“I’m going to talk to Ayers and I want to do it alone. Is that so difficult?”

“Stand by.” X-37 took a few seconds to accomplish each task I had assigned him. “My analysis suggests there is a low probability that anyone will come looking for you during the next ninety-four minutes.”

“Perfect.” When I arrived at the maximum-security wing of the brig, I spoke with the guard and was admitted. We were on a first-name basis at this point and he didn’t flinch that I came alone.

The hallway was dark, narrow, and had a low ceiling, something I suspected Union shipbuilders had done on purpose. If I’d been imprisoned here, the ambiance of the place would have been intimidating.

Each cell had an observation window. Further down this direction was a cluster of interrogation rooms and two offices that could be used for research between sessions. The lights were off, but I instructed X-37 to make sure no one was working in them. When I was sure we were alone, I stood before the cell of Doctor Ayers.

“What are you waiting for, Reaper Cain?”

“I’m just waiting for it to feel right. I don’t want to rush this.” We had covered a lot of ground with Ayers. Henshaw and the others had often offered questions I might not have thought of myself.

But I wasn’t here because I had a specific question. Something was bothering me, and my gut told me I needed to press this guy.

When I was ready, I entered without knocking or announcing my presence. Doctor Ayers stood in the middle of the room facing me, calmer and less fidgety than I’d ever seen him.

“He may be sleeping,” X-37 advised. “It is not impossible to sleep standing up with your eyes open, but it is rare. Would you like to know the exact statistical probability of this behavior?”

I didn’t answer, choosing instead to watch my target for clues.

“Filing statistical probabilities for a later discussion,” X-37 said. “The doctor has awakened.”

“Yeah, he’s awake,” I said. “Aren’t you, Ayers?”

“I wasn’t asleep when you entered, but working through a complex hypothesis,” he said.

“Screw it, I’m just gonna ask you. Do you have a limited artificial intelligence in your nerve-ware?”

I had argued with Henshaw on this point. The ocular engineer was convinced no one could be this smart without assistance. He conducted long solo interviews with the man, which was alarming for about ten different reasons, and come away breathless after some of their debates. All I needed was a secret coalition between the two scientists.

Doctor Ayers held my gaze when he answered. “I have no augmentation. It is possible to train the human mind to a very high level of functioning. This will be necessary for all people to obtain if we are to stand on equal ground with the many alien races that must exist in this galaxy and in the next.”

“You think these imaginary friends of yours are smarter than our entire race, is that it?” I asked.

“It is a possibility,” he said. “I admit, however, that nothing is a certainty. Even their physical appearance has been somewhat surprising.”

The doctor’s haunted look stabbed through me like a knife. “Did you just say what I think you said? Where are your test subjects?”

Doctor Ayers said nothing, seeming to stare straight through me.

“Answer me, Ayers.” It took all of my self-control not to grab him by the throat.

“You are smarter than you look. That is for the best. If you don’t mind, I must sleep now.”

“I do mind. And let me promise you this, sleeping will not be restful if you try to nod off while I’m talking,” I said, restraining myself from a more dire threat, not because I believed it would be ineffective, but because the thought of it turned my stomach.

I was getting soft. Threatening the man with sleep deprivation, and following through with that threat, would be effective. There were few coercion methods more miserable than long-term sleep deprivation.

Having been subjected to it three different times, I knew what it did to a person.

The interrogation wasn’t going well. I was losing my edge. Leaving without explanation, I waited for X-37’s inevitable question.

“Is something wrong, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked.

Watching Ayers sleep standing up, I considered what he said, what it meant, and what I needed to do about it. “We’re done for today.”

I moved into the hallway, then leaned against the wall to review the interview. The gloomy atmosphere fit my mood. “You understand why I’m worried, don’t you, X?”

“It seems obvious that he used alien DNA on human test subjects and something went wrong,” X-37 said.

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