120 - Kind of Crowded

"So. I have a computer connection in my brain who has been programmed to mimic self awareness, and it – or he, since I identify as male – would like me to name him? It is getting altogther too crowded in here,” Terry said, more than a little sourly. The brain seed was apparently letting Mom do all the talking.

“He's just being proper as he was programmed. He never had anyone properly introduce you, since he seems to be a so called 'hot' item on the intergalactic market,” Mom explained, patiently.

“Well, yes, he would be a premium... wait... what do you mean 'hot'?” Terry sat on the backless stool version of the pilot's chair, with a holotable set up in front of him. As he talked to Mom he monitored her skin repair and occasionally tweeked the repair order and made notes about what raw materials would be better for rebuilding the bulk of her chameleon circuits. He'd already boosted her estimation for repair up a full day.

Eshmaeel and Davood were outside in that barren desert that they said was home. Davood was starting to show signs of beginning to break down the re-programming Gerald and his techs had done. He was starting to break down every so often in total confusion and rage and tears at the conflict of love and hatred for Prime inside his skull. Being outside in the sand helped.

Mom hesitated. She shouldn't have. “Well?”

“Hot as in stolen.”

Terry shrugged, heaved a sigh. “And you are not?” He leaned forward. “If you fix this part of the musculo-skeletal system then the self-repair impulses can get into this area faster. I suggest you not leave it in the queue where it is but move it up.”

“Yes. I see. I shall rearrange my priorities. Young Brain Seed, this is Terence Arthur Cameron.”

Terry felt the activation like a flood of taste across his tongue and a musical chord. “Hello,” a tenor voice said in his head. He wasn't sure how this was possible but he got the impression that his brain seed was shy.

“So how have you been, in my head so far?”

“Oh, sir I found so many things to read for you it was wonderful. I've been just recording so that security programs don't track me here and burn me out.”

“Excellent. Do you have any kind of preference for a name?”

“Um... Geoffrey? Or perhaps Agador?”

Terry went with his sense of the thing. “You like Agador?”

“Yes.”

“Then, Agador, I'm very pleased to have you in my head.” He turned his attention to a flashing zone on the wire-frame representation of Mom before him. “If we can do this quietly, why don't we download everything you can get about the latest Ramtuff patents.”