Chapter 438 (2/2)
Dornam stared, just as the others had stared.
”They miss us still?” Dornam's wide expressive eyes teared up. ”I was afraid they had forgotten us, or grown past us and no longer wanted us around.”
Torturer shook his head. ”No. They have never forgotten you. Not ever.”
Dornam, like every other K9 uplift before him, broke down and wept in relief.
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Torturer watched as the door opened. A felis catus tabby entered the room, orange and white striped fur, pale green eyes, wearing a cloth outfit that Torturer knew was a 'school girl outfit'. She looked around the room then slowly sauntered up to the chair, sitting down.
”Smells like K9 in here,” she said softly.
”He complained it smelled like cat in here, but that's what happens with an updog,” Torturer said.
”What's updog?” Debby Kitchner asked.
”Nothing, what's up with you?” Torturer said.
Debby sat there for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter. ”I can't believe that joke survived.”
”I had to look it up. It was on an old movie,” Torturer admitted.
”To quote Snake Plisskin, the more things change, the more they stay the same,” Debby said.
”How are you? It's been thirty days since you were cured and released from treatment,” Torturer said.
Debby nodded. ”Busy. Really busy. I've been catching up by watching historical documents and doing eVR training to catch up and recertify on my old profession.”
”Which was?” Torturer asked.
She smiled at that. ”Your files have that, we both know that. But, I was a low gravity environmental engineer and maintenance technician. Before I got sick, I lived on Tycho Base on Luna.”
”How's your retraining going?” he asked.
”Things have changed on some levels, but the basics are the same. The fact that nanoforge maintenance and repair is now included is interesting,” she laughed again. ”Trust our parents to figure out a way around resource shortages, especially in near-closed systems.”
”That is true,” Torturer said.
”Humans, never a mouse they wouldn't chase, a dog they wouldn't fight, or a path they wouldn't take,” Debby said. She frowned. ”Can I ask a question?”
”Go ahead,” Torturer said.
”Why the name 'Torturer', that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.”
The DS sighed, leaning back. ”I was creched on a dystopian world. I was an interrogator of dissedents and undesirables, up to and including enhanced and coercive interrogation techniques. After the Confederacy put a stop to it I was put in rehabilitation. I chose to keep the name, to remind myself to ask question, to not take everything at superficial appearances.”
The uplifted cat nodded. ”Makes sense.”
”Does it bother you?” Torturer asked.
She shook her head, her whiskers twitching. ”No. I grew up around humans, was creched around humans. Despite some of the idiocy I've read on the SolNet boards, it wasn't a time of plenty or a golden age.”
”Computers may be almost twice as fast, but the average person is as drunk and stupid and brutal as ever,” Torturer misquoted.
”Exactly,” Debby answered. ”The weirdest thing was dealing with the new names of all the countries and the new histories. The Temporal Wars and the Dimensional Conjuction didn't help either.”
”No, it wouldn't,” Torturer said.
”I checked. Did you know my stuff is still in storage on Tycho? That my apartment survived the Mantid attack? I thought about sending them a message to clear my apartment, but I changed my mind,” Debby said.
”Oh? Why?” Torturer asked. He had noticed that a lot of uplifted felines were possessive in the extreme.
”I want to go somewhere else. See the galaxy,” Debby said. ”Maybe get work on a ship as an environmental engineer,” she sighed and stretched, a long lazy movement. She ended it with a yawn that was more gulping oxygen then a fatigue. ”It's a big galactic arm out there and the war won't last forever,” she stared at Torturer. ”I have to say, I hope we can leave soon. The K9's may be fine with confinement, but my people don't do well with it.”
Torturer nodded. It was the same complaint from every one of the uplifted felines as well as the canines. The canines claimed that the felines were fine with it.
The rest of the worries was, again, if humanity would accept that she was back, that her people were back. In her mind the Uplift War was a recent thing, from the time of her grandmother, and she was still worried about uplift and biomod prejudice.
Again, he showed the hologram of the Mourning Place.
”Anything else?” Torturer asked at the end of the hour.
Debby shook her head. ”No.”
”If you have any problems, feel free to com me,” Torturer said.
She nodded and stood up, taking a moment to smooth her clothing, swipe at her whiskers and ears, and then slowly left, more of a saunter.
When the door closed he leaned back, staring at the folder in front of him.
The door pinged and he frowned. He wasn't scheduled to deal with anyone for at least an hour. He tabbed the entry key and watched as one of the Confederate Intelligence Agents walked in. She looked around nervously and sat down.
”Do you have any time?” she asked. Again, Torturer noticed how evenly modulated her voice was, how the tone, the pitch, everything about her voice was supposed to be ”human female, one each” as possible.
”Of course,” Torturer said. He wiped away the folder, dropping it in the appropriate file. ”How should I refer to you? Do you prefer Ms. Smith or something else?”
The Agent looked around again, then nodded. ”Sally,” she said in a small voice.
”What's the problem, Sally?” Torturer asked.
She was silent again, looking around as if she expected someone to be lurking. Torturer turned up the lights to banish any hint of shadows and made the desk slightly transparent. The agent seemed to relax slightly.
”I have adopted a kitten,” she said, her voice a whisper. ”I have named it Misty, as its gray fur reminds me of the mist.”
Torturer stayed silent.
”My sisters and I, we avoid emotional or psychological attachments. Our duty, that Our Father has charged us with, the burden that he undertook after the assassination of The Digital Omnimessiah, is the safety and protection of humanity,” she said. She looked down at where her hands were in her lap. ”Attachments can be used against a subject. An attachment can cloud the mind, cause misdirection, or even obscure logic chains by causing bias confirmation or blindness.
She wove her fingers together and tensed her hands. For a second smartwire circuitry glowed beneath her skin.
”The kitten, Misty, fills a strange spot within my psyche that I did not know was cold and empty,” she said. She looked up. ”Coldness is our preferred state. Emptiness provides clarity of thought and purpose.
She looked back down. ”But I find myself burdened with an emotional attachment to a small creature that had been sick and was saved through the efforts of my Father's brothers, foreboding be Vat-Grown Luke's name.”
”So, you're concerned because you have developed an emotional attachment to another living creature,” Torturer said.
She nodded.
”One of the silent and hidden guardians of humanity is concerned because she has discovered that she is indeed human, just as her charges are,” Torturer mused. ”How very ironic. You have become the very thing you protect.”
She looked up again. ”Do not mock me.”
Torturer shook his head. ”I am not. You know who I am, you know what I have done. One of your sisters carried my travel case from the blasted remains of my creche world, taught me to not be an instrument of pain and suffering to wrest forced confessions from the accused. I would not mock you, you are a sister to me.”
Her hard eyes softened slightly.
”I too have adopted a cat. I find it pleasing to care for, to lavish and receive attention on,” Torturer said. ”Have your sisters adopted any of the Friends?”
She shrugged. ”I do not know. I am afraid to ask.”
Torturer nodded. ”Your base genome is human. Ignoring the genetic tweaks and your own origin, you are just as human as anyone in this Black Box. The Friends have been with us, been part of our makeup, through the majority of our history.”
Torturer leaned back. ”It is natural for you to develop empathy and affection toward them.”
The Agent relaxed slightly.
”If any of your sisters ask why you have it as a pet, simply inform them that I requested you to because I seek to discern if you have a performance increase,” Torturer said.
They sat silent for a moment.
”I thank you,” the agent said. She got up and left silently, leaving nothing behind.
Torturer opened a file, going down the list.
He put a checkmark next to her ID number.
Just like he had for almost all of her sisters.
He checked the time and got up, dismissing his desk.
Floofy would want fed and petted.