Carolyn threw herself backwards, knocking half of the materials of the workbench to scatter across the studio flat. Her back hit the door as she scrambled for the exit toggle. Her hand found it and she smashed it open. The two soldiers in the hallway immediately spun in place, leveling their rifles in towards the Typhon in the chair.
Morgan hadn't moved. Except to raise her hands. A gesture of surrender? How the hell had a Typhon even figured out what holding one's hands up meant? Then the Typon's shoulders sagged and it turned around on its chair, facing its terminal once more. Fingers flew across the keyboard but it made no hostile motion her way.
"You alright, Ma'am?" one of the soldiers asked.
"I-I'm not sure. I'm-"
"Camera feed looks clean," said the other soldier. "You're fine, Ma'am. No logs it did anything to you, and no gap in logs to indicate it covered anything up either. You're safe."
"From it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"What the hell was Alex thinking, putting me into a room with a ruddy Typhon?"
Carolyn's transcribe pulsed once. She glanced down at it, then lifted an incredulous eyebrow.
CAROLYN WHEELER / EMAIL
From: Morgan T Yu
To: Carolyn Wheeler
Cc:
Subject: Can we talk?
I've seen enough fear to know what it looks like. I don't blame you for being afraid of what I am. For what it's worth, you're safe with me. I saved you once, Carolyn, I'm not about to see you come to harm now. Come in, drink your coffee and let's talk.
-Morgan
"What are you on about?" Carolyn called from the door of the flat, from the door of the experimental chamber cunningly designed to look like a flat.
Morgan's response was to spin in her chair until she faced the door. She pushed the coffee mug down the now-cleared fabrication bench in a clear offering. Or was it clear? Could she trust any nonverbal cue from this monster? Normally unconscious cues could be invaluable for gauging untrustworthy subjects but this wasn't human.
Of course, Mimics themselves didn't seem to be possessed of any great intelligence. They often mimicked things that stood out enough to draw attention to them, apparently unknowingly. If this Typhon's behavior seemed to carry tells, perhaps those tells were accurate in as much as the shape of Morgan was mimicked entirely, all of its flaws as well as features. But there was no way to be sure. Other than to remember Alex presumably knew all of this. Kept this creature here under, in her estimation, inadequate guard. Positioned her to engage with it, for upwards of a week? Had Alex sent her in to die?
While Carolyn deliberated, Morgan hopped off her workstool and walked purposely around the fabrication counter and into her little living room area. With several swift presses on the main display, the Typhon wiped the nondescript time/date stamps and replaced it with a whiteboard surface. Which she promptly wrote on.
Close the door. In or out, it's up to you.
"And you'd let me go, just like that?"
I have plenty of reading. I won't be bored.
The quirk of Morgan's lips suggested a dry humor that struck Carolyn with its impossibility. A Typhon with a sense of humor? Anything resembling a sense of humor?
"Let's say that I do. What then?"
You could start by telling me if the Captain and Flight Engineer survived?
"Who?"
Morgan glared slightly before wiping the display to make room for more text. Rebekah Smart, Joe Spires. The Captain and Flight Engineer of the
Shuttle Advent. And Lietner. Did he and his assistant survive?
"How-" Carolyn stepped into Morgan's flat, heedless of the door closing behind her. She cautiously approached the Typhon standing before the wall-mounted display. Morgan wore a TranStar corporate uniform like hers but the monster had evidently opted not to bother with shoes. Of course, given this was 'home', perhaps she felt more comfortable barefooted.
Once again, ascribing human motivations to an alien.
"How do you know anything about the Advent?" Carolyn asked at last.
That's complicated. Get your coffee, have a seat and I'll explain.
Morgan once more wiped her display while Carolyn obediently fetched her coffee cup. Settling into the admittedly comfortable couch, she tracked sentence after sentence as Morgan wrote with long, bold strokes. The whole impossible story came out and the coffee cup was long since empty by the time Morgan teached the end.
"Right. You're actually a Typhon who thinks its Morgan Yu, who remembers everything Morgan experienced at the end there."
It can be taught.
"...You can be taught?"
You can be taught.
"I'm not an it."
Neither am I.
Carolyn's mouth opened, froze, then shut silently. This was an alien only pretending to be human. But this Morgan didn't just think it...she was Morgan, no. She thought like Morgan, was prickly like Morgan. Had the same impatience as the former VP.
"You have all of Morgan's memories?"
The Typhon frowned, a shade of expression so exact Carolyn recognized it from her past encounters with the younger Yu sibling. She'd been asked a difficult question she didn't think was important, and she didn't care for it.
No. My earliest memory is waking up in a room like this and experiencing the simulation, including a helicopter ride, a test followed by the death of Dr. Bellamy. Sylvian Bellamy. When I woke up next, I was still in the simulation but it'd begun to malfunction, and everyone around me dead. I have perhaps twenty hours of actual, simulated memory.
"How on earth are you carrying on a conversation with me now then? You know how to draw? How to write?"
Declarative memory wasn't included in the connectome of Morgan I received. Only non-declarative memory. I know how to operate a terminal, how to program a fabricator, how to use a TranStar uniform suit. I know how to write.
"What's the point of that?"
Ask Alex. Her writing was dramatic, the strokes hinting of some frustration. If you'd like an educated guess, he didn't want a Typhon that thought it was Morgan. He wanted a Typhon who thought like Morgan. Like a human. Who saw humans as people and not prey.
"If you know how to do everything Morgan could do, why don't you talk?"
Morgan's eyes narrowed. Then she frowned. Experimentally, the Typhon inhaled and opened her mouth. The lips moved but nothing came out. No air either. Not a lack of vocal cords, probably, depending on how well the Typhon could mimic the human body. Lack of something to say?
"What's your name?" Carolyn asked. Her knees drew together as she leaned forward, awaiting the answer.
"Morgan Yu."
The voice was a little hoarse but the pitch was perfect. So was the cadence and the delivery. Morgan looked visibly surprised, if Carolyn correctly judged the expression. It wasn't a look she'd ever seen on the real woman's face but the widening of the eyes and tension in the cheeks were telltale cues. Again, assuming the creature didn't consciously manipulate reactions that were unconscious for humans.
"You ought to consider another name, you know. I don't imagine the Yu's will thank you for hearing you claim her name."
Morgan didn't say anything. Didn't react at all for a long moment. Then her attention shifted to the door, just before it opened. An Operator floated into the room, hovering silently on its anti-gravitational thrusters. The bulbous camera at the base rotated slightly as it sized them both up. Then it pushed off, drifting through the air towards the living room area where they both sat.
"Can I help you?" Carolyn asked.
Being polite was simply habit by this point. Especially if this particular Operator had stored the connectome of a TranStar employee. It was a ghoulish practice she still hadn't made her peace with yet. Mostly because, well, a small part of her still subscribed to the notion that death actually meant something.
"Ms. Wheeler," the Operator said, acknowledging her. "Examination of the subject is required to comply with my directives."
Morgan seemed untroubled by the request. Instead, she looked at Carolyn as she leaned back against the wall next to the monitor. As the Operator approached and initiated some kind of medical scan, she said "Science units have been doing this hourly since I woke up-"
The Typhon stopped speaking a moment and her expression shifted subtly. From indifference to wariness, even controlled alarm. A moment later, the reason why became instantly apparent. This was a Pyramid 580 Medical-class Operator, not one of the Sybil series of Science Operators. Why the change?
As the question occurred, the Operator lifted two examination arms to either side of Morgan's head before running a crackling electrical current between them, dropping the Typhon to the ground. Then it rotated on its jets to face Carolyn.
