Chapter 3: The Reasons Why

OIA Advanced Weapons Research Facility "Anvil"
Solo Islands
January 15, 2011

Marissa stewed on the provided cot as rain hammered the metal roof above her head, the torrent of noise doing nothing for her aching head. The storm had rolled in while she was being escorted back to the plane, having told Volker her decision to leave. The old man had looked devastated while Mark had begged her to reconsider, stating that they had just let slip the greatest secret in Osea and if she left she could never come back. Marissa didn't care, happy to leave the place behind forever, until the rain ruined her plans. So here she sat, soaked to the bone and fuming with anger and frustration, in the last place she wanted to be. A soft knock on the partition wall caused her to jump.

"What?!" she barked.

"Delivery!" Jonas called in happily through the black curtain that covered the doorway and afforded her some privacy. "You naked?"

"Wha-, I am not!"

"Good, cause I'm coming in!"

"No you're not!"

"Sorry, you're not my boss, ma'am." The curtain slid open and Jonas wheeled himself in, a bundle of towels and clothes in his lap, grinning like an idiot. "Here you go!"

"Get out!" Marissa growled.

"I think I told you why I'm not gonna do that already ma'am." He tossed the bundle onto the cot. "Besides, you look like a drowned rat."

"Excuse me!?"

"Can't, the weather's too shitty to kick you out." Jonas began to unpack the bundle, handing her a towel that felt like it had just come out of the dryer. She hugged it to herself, savoring the feeling. "I figured you'd be all wet and angry after you shoved my uncle away and tracked water all over the place." He held up a sweatshirt. "And after standing watch through storms I know how miserable wet clothes are." He folded the garment and set it down with the rest of the clothing. He spun to give her a smug grin. "This is where you say thank you ma'am."

"...thanks Jonas. You didn't have to do this."

"True, especially since you went full bitch mode." She glared at him but Jonas didn't even seem to know what he said and kept on talking. "But Uncle Albert likes you and I liked your dad and they liked each other so it made sense." He reached behind him and pulled off a bag that was hanging on the handles of his wheelchair. "Dry sheets and a toothbrush. Weather boys said it's an all night rain time kinda deal."

"Great..." Marissa muttered. The two of them sat in a kind of awkward silence, though Jonas hummed and looked around, patting out a beat on his wheels.

"My uncle didn't ask for you," Jonas said suddenly.

"What?"

"Trigger did." Jonas wheeled himself backwards. "I'll let you change, good night."

"Wait!" Marissa called out.

"Not my boss!" Jonas called back in sing-song as he rolled away. Marissa sighed and hugged the warm towel again. Despite her misgivings, the fact that it was a machine that selected her piqued her curiosity. Something in its logic selected her above everyone else, even if it was as simple as sharing a family name. Still, she just had to know what connections it had made and there was only one way to find out.

After drying off and changing clothes (which were too big but not so much as to be unwearable) Marissa wandered back through the facility. The staff either smiled politely or stepped out of her way, leaving her to progress in peace. Some shot her sympathetic glances or annoyed glares, but nobody ever stopped her or said anything. She reached Trigger's computer station, the server room behind it dark and empty. As she walked up the screens switched on, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Good evening Doctor Atkinson," Trigger greeted in the same soft monotone. "Has the rainstorm impeded your departure?"

"Uh... yes." Marissa resumed her approach.

"That is unfortunate, as you seemed so determined to do so." The center screen, which was still the camera feed, changed to that of a weather radar display. "Current estimates for the storm's passing is 0143 local time. Auditory data collected from the past 45 minutes of rainfall places the predicted level of precipitation at 3-4 inches. I believe that one would describe such weather as... terrible." The screen changed to that of a large yellow dot on a black background. "Am I correct in this assessment?"

"Yeah..." Marissa breathed, impressed. "Yeah, it's pretty bad." The dot changed to green with an audible ding before returning to the camera display. She sat in silence for a while, feeling the camera's unyielding attention. She stared back into the lens, knowing it was watching her, studying her. She pulled the Navy sweatshirt she was wearing closed.

"Was there something else Doctor Atkinson?"

"Um..." Marissa began, feeling ridiculous. "I was told that you asked for me to come here?"

"Correct."

"Can I ask why?"

"Affirmative." Marissa waited but Trigger said nothing more.

"Oh. Why?"

"Doctor Atkinson expired. My instructor is Doctor Atkinson. Deceased individuals cannot instruct. Nobody but Doctor Atkinson may instruct. Solution: Find Doctor Atkinson to replace Doctor Atkinson and instruction may resume."

"That's it!? You picked me because he was my father!?"

"I picked you because you are Doctor Atkinson."

"I, but, did you even read my credentials, my thesis, my research?"

"No."

"My experience in A.I. development and machine learning?"

"Advantageous but not required."

"Did you know what I even looked like before I got here?"

"Yes." The middle screen displayed a picture of her when she was little, the same childhood photo that she found amongst her father's belongings.

"Wait, you thought I was five!?"

"No."

"What do you know about me then?" Trigger's screen changed to a picture of her driver's license.

"Doctor Marissa Eleanor Atkinson. Date of Birth 03-02-1988." Trigger highlighted each section as he replied. "Height: 5'6." Weight: 58 kilograms. Eye color: green. Hair color: red. Organ Donor."

"That's it!?"

"No." The screen returned to the camera's view. "Your father was Robert Julius Atkinson. Your mother was Genevieve Marian Atkinson. Both individuals are deceased."

"Anything else?"

"Further access to public records has been restricted, but estimation of their contents based on verbal anecdotes predicts no relevance to the choice in instructor." Marissa was floored. Here she'd been expecting this machine had analyzed who she was, knew about all her work and all her achievements, had hoped it picked her because only she was qualified. But no, it was just because her father had built it. Stuck in the shadow again.

"I see..." The camera zoomed in, focusing on her expression.

"Was my answer insufficient?"

"No... yes... I don't know!"

"You are angry Doctor Atkinson." It wasn't a question.

"I am!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm the replacement!" She stood up, chair rolling rapidly backwards behind her, and slammed her hands on the desktop. "All my life I've been trying to be something more than Robert Atkinson's daughter, to get him to spend time with me, to notice me! I thought if I worked hard enough, learned enough, he'd value his time with me more than his time doing this!" She shoved the bookshelf, which rocked back slightly, sending books and puzzles tumbling to the floor. She jabbed a finger at the camera. "You don't even care who I am, so long as I'm his daughter!"

"Inaccurate." Trigger had raised his speaker volume to be audible over her yelling but it was the same calm tone as ever.

"Then why me!? If not for my work, for my father, then why?!"

"My logic is the same as before, Doctor Atkinson." Trigger explained. "Because you are Doctor Atkinson."

"But why me!?"

"Because you are Doctor Atkinson," Trigger repeated.

"I... but..." Trigger's logic was a circle, it was ridiculous, it was based purely on name correlation. If she'd been anybody else... But that was it wasn't it?

"You want me just... just because I'm me?"

"Is more required?" Marissa's stunned expression slowly turned into a smile.

"No, no it's not." She looked at the assembled crowd of technicians, drawn to the yelling, and flushed with embarrassment. Volker stepped out of the group, dressed in pajamas.

"What in God's name is going on here?"

"Trigger was trying to convince me to stay." Marissa gestured to the screens.

"I see..." Volker looked at the screen as well before clearing his throat. "Have his efforts uh... born fruit?" She looked back at the camera, the eye of a machine silently staring out at the people around it. A machine that had chosen her not for her knowledge or her heritage, but because only she could be the person it needed her to be.

"Yes. Yes they have."