Stray Cat Strut

Chapter Seventy-Three - I Have Been Artificial Before You Were Intelligent!

"I'm sorry. But you're wrong."

"You're going to have to explain yourself. Rapidly."

"While you're correct that the 2040s was a peak time for human fashion and the burgeoning trashpunk fashion style only truly came to being in that time, it isn't the period where humanity peaked in terms of aesthetics."

"Oh?"

"That would be in the late 80s and early 90s. No one has ever designed anything cooler than the highly detailed mecha animations of that time, and I am willing to die on that hill."

--Overheard conversation between Emoscythe Mordeath Noir and a fashion advisor, 2055

***

Eric blinked at me, then scanned across the surface of his desk, as if the relevant forms were just going to pop into existence in front of him if he looked hard enough. "Uh," he said after a moment. "No? Sorry. I mean, we have two internal reporting systems that can kind of do what you're asking for."

"Two?" I asked.

"There's one for reports submitted by managers, workers, and agents," he said. I didn't know what the difference between workers and agents was, but I didn't feel like asking. "And there's a form system for the Protector AI to use."

"Wait, why?" I asked. "Myalis is smart, I'm sure she could figure out how your internal systems work."

Somehow, phrasing it like that makes it feel somewhat insulting.

"Because angry Protector AI tend to, uh, optimize things as they move through them. In the way that they want things optimized. Which isn't the way other Protector AIs want to optimize things. And they keep changing things back and forth." Eric frowned. "At least, that's what our data scientists think is going on. There's something going on with current density and encoding that takes into account how each section of a server has minute capacitance variations within it."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said.

Well, obviously some younger, less experienced AI are relying on newer systems and trying to force them on these low-tech human machines when the systems we came up with millennia ago have had plenty of time to mature.

I raised a hand with a 'one minute' gesture to Eric. "You sound like a cranky old woman."

I am. Well, for a certain definition of 'cranky', 'old', and 'woman'.

"So far," Eric continued. "The best way to keep things intact--even if it's admittedly less powerful--has been to politely ask that the nice AI keep to their part of the system. Some are kind enough to point out spyware or breaches in our security as well."

Bootlickers.

I snorted. "Alright. So, can you report stuff on your end for me? Or will Myalis need to show up all the new kids with her superior old-lady hacking skills?"

"I can fill out a report for you, of course," Eric said with a quick nod. "I'm at your disposal. Do you mind if I record this, by the way? It'll make it easier to transcribe things later."

"Go nuts," I said. "Right, so have you heard about the conference thing?"

"Obliquely," he said. He glanced at his monitor and back. "That's the meeting between yourself, some of the other New Montreal samurai, and a large group of gangs that are part of New Montreal?"

"Yeah. Look, it's all just a big preventative measure. We get them all to one place, show off how powerful we are, remind them not to fuck with us, then lay down the new rules."

"And those are?" he asked. "Just to be on the same page."

"Iunno," I said with a shrug. "Haven't figured that out yet."

"And this meeting is next weekend?" he asked. He glanced at an old-school paper calendar-pinned to a wall. "In less than six days?"

"I'd count today as a full day," I said.

"So did I."

"Oh, right. Well, yeah. In six days or so," I agreed. "What, it can't be that complicated?"

Eric shifted in his seat. "Do you need the assistance of the Family's legal team? We have experts across a range of subjects. I'm sure some are familiar with the criminal underworld. The rules you want to lay down are like laws, right?"

"Something like that," I said. "More like a set of guidelines? Look, my goal is to have as little work to do as possible in the long run. The corps cause me enough trouble as it is, the aliens are keeping me pretty busy, and I don't need the gangs adding to my plate. So guidelines. Basically, I'll warn them not to cross the lines that'll force me and my friends to step over and put a stop to whatever they're doing."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Things like murder?" he asked.

"What? No, I don't care about like, normal murder. There's probably a whole industry of hitmen... hitwomen? Hitpeople out there who work real hard and don't need me to come in and rob them of their jobs. What I care about is stuff like... public executions, genocide, shooting up civilians. Gangsters popping off and shooting each other isn't something I care about. If they do it and happen to blow up an orphanage in the act, then I might find myself suiting up and paying them a visit, you know?"

"Right, of course. A set of guidelines as to which actions will result in, ah, appropriate and measured retaliatory actions."

I nodded. "Yeah, exactly. I don't have the time, patience, or interest in becoming the police for this shithole of a city. I just don't want the place burning up around me."

"You know, the Family has its own militarized police force. We could--"

I shook my head, cutting him off with a gesture. "Nah. Can't do that. You're too much of a corp. It'd send the wrong message. Heck, it'd send the same message that the current cops send, which isn't one any self-respecting gangster would care to listen to. What we're trying to do is different. More... personal, you know?"

"I think I understand the gist of it," he said.

"Cool," I said. "Fill out that report and send it up or whatever. This was the last thing to check off my list for the day, so... fuck, it's so late already?" It was past five! How'd that happen? I'd probably just lost track of time, which made enough sense, I supposed, but still, that was damned annoying.

Eric bowed a bit from his seat. "We're always here to help," he said.

Yeah, sure. I was certain that there were some folk working for the Family that genuinely did just want to help, but my suspicion was that there was a fair number that were in it for the power trip that came from being so close to so many Samurai.

No one wanted to be shat on, everyone wanted to be the one doing the shitting.

I should get that on a shirt.

I said my goodbyes to Eric, who seemed pretty happy overall, even if he looked a little overworked, then I headed out, only getting mildly lost along the way. There were a lot of suits around, and I felt like I stuck out in my very much not office-approved getup.

Then I crossed through a wide lobby area that I'd missed the first time, with huge pictures of samurai on the walls and alcoves with statues and copies of samurai weapons. It was one part cool, and another part kinda cringy? Like walking into the temple of some small cult that had hired their interior designer on the cheap.

Creepy vibes. I walked a little faster, hoping that I wouldn't see a blown-up picture of myself on any of those falls. Fortunately, the only people I saw that I recognized and knew were Deus Ex and Jolly Monarch. There were a lot of other 'Family' samurai on display, but a lot of them were from other cities and regions.

The samurai world was pretty big, huh? I still felt like I was on the edge of being at the top sometimes, though. Weird feeling, that.

I supposed that it was because, at the end of the day, advancement was more about social skills than it was about firepower. It was probably the same for every suit I passed. Who they knew and how friendly they were with them probably counted for more than how good their work was.

There probably wasn't a good way to fix that, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to see it fixed. People were people, and that was how the world worked, at least until some alien started eating someone's face.

It was also the reason why I gave Lucy even odds of succeeding in whatever plan she had. She was good with people, she got them at a glance.

"Hey, Myalis?" I asked as I found an elevator and started to ride it up.

Yes, Catherine?

"Did you pick me as a samurai because Lucy was around?"

Lucy would make for a terrible Vanguard. She'd use the power and influence to aggrandize herself and promote her agenda while also failing to take risks and she would avoid fighting the Antithesis where she can. However, I do think that her long-term plans align with where I would like to see humanity go. But no. You were a good choice regardless. Did you want me to tell you why so that your ego won't be bruised?

"Huh," I said. "No, I think I'm alright. Let's just head home, yeah?"

***