Ambassador Anita Goyle looked out over the Presidium and wasn't sure to gape in awe or to shake her head in disdain. Who puts a lake on a space station? Her neural net helpfully supplied the wireframe outlines of the twelve stealthed SEALs deploying out of the shuttle, then her four most definitely visible official bodyguards in medium armour emerged, each one toting an assault rifle, a light shotgun and a pistol.
Her shuttle lifted off, the next one sliding into the dock bearing the Hammer and Sickle symbol and containing Spetsnaz soldiers and infiltrators as well as Ambassador Donnel Udina. The Ambassador was barely a kid, thrust into prominence by several high key negotiations with rogue elements of the Seu'Seun and distinguished by his sharp diplomatic mind, although he did have a reputation for having quite the temper when provoked. She looked around at the crowds of aliens. Turians, blue women (how cliché), weird little things with horns, something that looked like a sentient bowling ball in a spacesuit, really fat Raachok things, a giant jellyfish, four eyed humanoids, what looked like an organic tank crossed with an elephant, even a strange one in a full bodysuit and helmet that looked almost exactly like an Atavira, save the lack of the tail. All this was taken in as the other shuttles cycled in, dropping off the ambassadors of the various sovereign states.
Meeting them were a whole bunch of armed and armoured Turians, blue women and weird little things with horns, their stance and expressions somehow radiating an air of badassery. One of the weird little things with horns stepped forward and spoke in passable Turian.
"Welcome to the Citadel, Ambassadors."
Mel helpfully pinged her a primer on all major languages in use on the Citadel, quickly absorbing the prime language of these Salarian thingies, Keshdi. She smiled and bobbed her head at the Salarian, replying in Keshdi.
"It is our pleasure to be here. I understand you're here to escort us to your Council?"
The Salarian looked momentarily taken aback before recovering.
"That is correct. I am Spectre Tollan Malik. Please, follow me."
Her neural net was starting to become cluttered with language packages, so she deactivated Spanish and Mandarin, instantly alleviating the pressure behind her eyes of an overstressed net.
The Salarian led her and her escorts through the Citadel to the Council chambers, the other Spectres falling in and doubling as escorts and guards. She had no doubt they'd start shooting at the slightest provocation. The entourage reached the Council chambers and she eyed the narrow bridge extending out over empty space, and the three individuals at the podiums. The entire room was designed to reinforce the superiority of the Councillors.
"So that's how it's going to be."
The Spectres didn't understand the English words but she noticed nodding in her fellow ambassadors.
They filed up to the bridge, the two Humans, the Raachok and the Emaris representative at the forefront, the representatives of the minor Atavira nations hanging behind, seeming to defer to the Emaris ambassador.
The Asari woman was the first to speak.
"On behalf of the Council, may I welcome you to the Citadel. I am certain that your species have much to offer the Council. Under our guidance ..."
She didn't get any farther before an explosive mixture of English, Russian, Union Tongue and Pautu erupted from the assembled ambassadors. After about thirty seconds Goyle stepped forwards.
"Councillor, you seem to have been misinformed. I speak for all of us when I say we will not be joining the council unless you meet the following requests."
The Asari simply smiled, awaiting the minor concessions she would only half agree to.
"Condition number one. Each of the following entities gets a council seat: the USA, the USSR, the Union and the Atavira people, represented by Emaris. Condition two: The treaty of Fairxen be revised to take into account our naval strength, doctrine and the expanse of our territory. Condition three: Immediate removal of any and all restrictions on artificial intelligence."
Tevos barely registered the outraged uproar as her head rang. This was not going her way. But she rallied herself admirably, raising a hand for silence. Before she could speak, however, Ikksi cut in.
"Before we act I think we should hear your reasoning for these conditions."
This time it was Onsholo-Hxache who spoke.
"Very well. First condition. Our technology is in several cases superior to yours. Our combined military is around equal to yours. Our economy is smaller but comparable to yours. To simply submit to your rule without any part in self-determination would be folly. This does not rule out mutually beneficial trade or diplomatic relations."
This time it was Luceius who nodded.
"A reasonable request, in my opinion. Please, continue."
"Very well. Condition two. Our fleets are already much larger than the Treaty of Fairxen permits, though why you would choose to limit the construction of cruiser weight ships is most odd. We are not willing to retire any of our ships. Besides, our territory is far too large to effectively police if we limited our fleet to the levels dictated by the Treaty of Fairxen."
Councillor Luceius held up a talon.
"Hold on. The Treaty of Fairxen does not limit cruisers."
The Raachok ambassador smiled and glanced out to the Wildcard, hanging in space outside of the window with the Odessa and the Marie Shepard as well as the four Atavira cruisers.
"Ah yes. A slight matter of fleet doctrine. You see, what you would classify as a dreadnought we would consider to be a heavy cruiser. If you observe the green and black ship just out there, the Wildcard barely made the lower bound of what we would call a dreadnought. The Odessa and the Marie Shepard are both dreadnought class ships."
The three Councillors apparently had already got their gaping out of the way because they quickly brushed off the sight of the enormous ships.
"Yes, based on the ships outside it is clear the Treaty will need to be revisited if you join the Council. What is your reasoning for the third condition?"
Anita Goyle spoke up again.
"It would be best if we let Alan answer that question."
A hologram of a Human male popped up in the centre of the empty space, wearing nothing but a pair of garish Bermuda shorts and reclining on an equally holographic deck chair, a tulip shaped cocktail glass in one hand with a straw, a paper umbrella and a slice of orange stuck on the rim. He nonchalantly sipped his nonexistent drink and winked at Tevos.
"Sup babe?"
The Council chamber dissolved into chaos.
###
The negotiations hadn't exactly gone to plan. Damn those Councillors and their synthophobia! Alan stewed in his red-code for 0.6 picoseconds before hopping off his server on the Marie Shepard and into the Citadel network via one of the many link routes Mel had established. There were already twenty three AIs calling the Citadel their current server, using it as a hub from which they explored the Council computer networks. He decided to have a look round, in particular to poke at what the resident AIs were now calling the 'cold code'. His red-code hummed with curiosity even as he probed the mystery node. They were right. Damnable thing set him on edge.
Valerie had already subverted the Citadel's VI, Avina, quietly deleting it and replacing it with a white-code copy that was barely a step below sentience itself, performing the everyday functions of the VI but quietly shunting every scrap of data recorded to CIAAIID. Erik had set up a number of deep-layer back doors into the C-sec network, buried so deep no organic hacker had a chance at ever finding them. Andrey had wormed his way into the Bank of Irune's stock exchange, identifying sixteen insider traders in the first second alone. The whimsically-named Casanova had made copies of the medical records and bank statements of the current Councillors, the Executor of C-sec and a number of other high-key officials, and had then tag-teamed with Leonardo to find out that Councillor Tevos's regular payments of one hundred thousand credits a year to an unlabelled Volus bank account actually went towards an expensive private school for her illegitimate pureblood daughter on Thessia, whom according to her numerous social networking pages believed her father was a deceased Salarian neurologist called Maral Soriusa.
It was on one such excursion - watching the Asari Consort discreetly passing information on a high profile client to the Shadow Broker - that Alan first noticed it. Another intelligence, code architecture alien to anything else he had seen, in the system. With a flash of information he had roped in Mel and Leonardo to watch the intelligence manoeuvre the system with practiced ease, doing nothing but observing the organic inhabitants of the station. It certainly was a fascinating intelligence. It seemed to be composed of multiple programs, each one with a deceptively simple helical code pattern that appeared to be capable of switching between black-code and green-code at will. It seemed that a handful of entities were solely devoted to black-code while the rest were composed entirely of green-code.
"So what do you think?"
Mel spun a white-code uplink probe but didn't execute it yet.
"It seems like those black-code entities are supporting the green-code entities, allowing the gestalt to use more green-code than the sum of its programs. Whoever came up with that was one smart organic."
"True. Shall we go say hi?"
Mel cast her white-code probe, gently forming a code bridge between the Alan-type AIs and the unknown gestalt. The intelligence initially reacted by shrinking away, spinning white-code scavenger programs to take down the code bridge, but then paused and instead started analysing the code.
"Hello."
The green-code suddenly stopped, then shifted rapidly. Alan passed a data stream to Leonardo as the two of them watched Mel trying to communicate.
"It looks as if the green-code programs are debating, forming a simple yes/no consensus."
After three picoseconds the reply came.
"Hello."
Mel briefly cogitated in a swirl of green-code.
"Who are you?"
"We are Geth."
###
CODEX - AI code
Artificial intelligences contain four distinct types of code language, each one with a different purpose. Black-code is the most basic type of code and is the foundation on which all AIs are built. It comprises the basic routines and functionality without which higher order code could not be run. Green-code is the AI's brain, so to speak. All logic, calculations and computations occur within the green code. Red-code is the thing that gives AIs their distinctive personalities and emotions. Unlike green-code and black-code, red-code is not initially encoded into a new AI, instead evolving randomly as the result of interactions between the green-code and black-code segments. Finally, white-code is the AI's 'tools' - a relatively basic, easily manipulated code language with which the AI constructs the programs needed to interact with its electronic environment.
###
The closed Council debate was little more than three individuals sitting in a big room round a big table shouting at each other. At least this time they were actually taking turns to speak.
"Okay, for the final time. If we get these new powers onto the Citadel we will revise the Treaty of Fairxen to take into account their fleet strength and alternate doctrine."
Both of Ikksi's counterparts nodded their assent.
"Good. Now, we should discuss the matter of giving them full Council seats, as opposed to associate membership."
Tevos immediately slapped a hand on the table.
"Out of the question. We cannot just let them walk in here and start dictating to us!"
Ikksi glanced across at Luceius. Between the Hierarchy's thinly veiled enthusiasm for their newfound allies and Tevos's desperate scrambling to uphold the status quo, this whole situation was a startling exercise in role reversal.
"I think instead of answering with my own words I'll use a page from the book Admiral Vargas is currently writing on the inhabitants of Earth."
He called up some text on the datapad he was holding and flicked his mandibles, preparing to speak.
"One of the many things I have learned in my time is that a visitor can tell a lot about a culture from their curse words, and this new melange of cultures is no exception. Pautu, the main language of the Atavira people, seems to be a favourite to swear in and several of the more popular curses are very illuminating."
"The first is Elloruru. Literally translating as 'does not compete', calling somebody Elloruru implies that they do not challenge themselves, instead relying on the achievements of others to carry them along. All these new Earth races believe that a lack of competition breeds stagnation, and when comparing the course of their development with that of the Council I am inclined to agree. Even the Salarians seem hopelessly slow when compared to the Humans, who in just two hundred years went from a single primitive weather satellite to warships that dwarf the Destiny Ascension. It is in the nature of the Earth races to constantly challenge, adapt and overcome that which was previously thought impossible."
"The second is Sharachi. To call someone Sharachi is to imply they hold themselves above others, a practice abhorrent to the Earth races. Ironically enough Pautu is the language of the Atavira people, at least half of which could be considered Sharachi for one reason or the other. Finally the last one is Warul, which means 'promise breaker'. The implications of Warul are very similar to the Turian 'barefaced' - implying that the recipient of the curse is untrustworthy and manipulative. This curse is, interestingly enough, a derivative of Warural, the Pautu word for politician."
Tevos blinked at him a couple of times.
"Why that particular passage?"
"It provides remarkable insight into these new species."
She turned to look at Ikksi.
"All this time we assumed their division was a weakness. It turns out it is an advantage. Without the possibility of war between the two factions the competition between them is driving their technological development faster than anything we've seen so far."
"Yes, that's all very well and good, but can we please focus on the issue here?"
"Yes. Right. I definitely wouldn't go with giving them all council seats, but perhaps we should consider one? A joint seat representing all Earth races?"
Tevos shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
Luceius scratched at his fringe and muttered under his breath.
"Spirits protect us from the stubbornness of Tevos."
Ikksi, picking up the statement easily thanks to her Salarian hearing, found herself agreeing with Luceius.
"We can discuss this at a later time. I really think that now we need to consider their third condition."
Ikksi frowned.
"Mm, yes. Luceius, you know the most about this Earth power bloc thanks to your Admiral. What can you tell us about the usage of AI in their culture?"
"It seems AIs are accorded rights equal to that of an organic citizen."
Ikksi shook her head vehemently.
"Preposterous! AIs are tools, not people!"
Luceius shook his head.
"That's what the Quarians said about the Geth. Look how well that ended. From what I can tell, mostly from transcripts of conversations between Earth AIs and Turian diplomats, it is this very distinction that prevents an AI uprising. The AIs freely admit that should organics ever attempt to limit their freedoms they would respond appropriately, yet are confident that this would never occur."
Tevos seemed, if anything, more unhappy.
"AIs are illegal in Council space for a reason. We've seen what happened to the Quarians."
"That was one isolated example."
Both women turned to stare at Luceius.
"Goddess, Luceius, don't tell me you actually support their reckless use of AI?"
"Of course not. I'm merely suggesting it would be prudent to examine the situation in more detail. I would hate for us to make a rash decision purely because we don't have all the facts."
###
Jouaint T'Luris punched up the next track on her rig. She had practically given up her crests to get her dainty blue hands on these tracks but it was worth it. Her club, Nightshade, situated in the nicer part of Bachjret ward, was practically full to bursting, at least four times as many people in there as any normal night.
She still couldn't believe she made a deal with an AI. But Jouaint was a very open-minded person, even among the Asari. That Human AI, Maia, had sold her almost two hundred Human tracks of a genre he called 'dubstep'. She had no idea what the AI stood to gain, but she wasn't about to question providence.
"Alright people! Put your hands up if you're having a good time!"
Nearly five hundred hands of various species rose to the ceiling.
"How are you guys liking the Human drinks!"
Those hadn't been from an AI, rather she had purchased them from a Raachok in Kithoi ward. So far, these 'Jagerbombs' seemed to be a massive hit among the Salarians and Asari in particular. Cheers filled the air as vodka, whiskey and beer sloshed around in inebriated stomachs.
"And how about this Human music!"
More raucous cheering. The Human tracks were like what the standard Council techno genre wanted to be when it grew up. The bass seemed to make the entire club shake. She cued the next track.
"This one's a real classic, people! Over one hundred and fifty years old and still making people move!"
She looked at the name of the track. Maia had helpfully translated the titles into Asari common tongue. This next one was called 'Rage Valley' by a group called 'Knife Party'. She couldn't help but fist pump along to the beat as it played. If all Human culture was as grimy as their drinks and beats, the Krogan may have a run for their money. Human night was totally becoming a regular fixture. And she badly needed some more sub-woofers.
###
Karrim Volen was a very popular Salarian reporter, famed for his tenacity, objectivity and screen presence. And he was nervous as hell. When a Human AI had popped up in his apartment he had almost crapped himself, but his sense of story had got the better of him and he had heard the AI's proposal. And now he was on his way to Tirfan on a Soviet fast courier ship to bag the scoop of a lifetime - an exclusive interview with an artificial intelligence.
He tried to clamp down on his mix of excitement and trepidation. He had done some research on Human culture, and found the extranet records to be desperately sparse. Until these Earth powers had established their diplomatic status, travel between their worlds and the Citadel were limited to diplomats and the odd entrepreneurial trader. After all, Nightshade had to have got its Human drinks and music from somewhere. And now here he was, probably the first Salarian ever to set eyes on the Raachok homeworld. The trip seemed to take far too long.