A/N: FYI, this stuff is going on roughly the same time as Fugitive Telemetry. Beta read and story consulting by the so-helpful horchata.

From the beginning, I'd been worried about what would be found when someone went looking for the boxed unit. An empty box? A dead unit? Would I find it never being deployed a complete coincidence, that by now it had gone insane, the interior of its box scratched up and finger-painted with fluids? My imagination ran wild with horror scenarios.

Stop it, I told myself. It didn't help.

The warehouse was a vast structure filled with orange racks. The SecUnit inventory area featured grey and white boxes, all lined up like coffins (which didn't do good things for my imagination). The racks were right next to one another in the default space-saving configuration, with no aisle to go down. I passed my request to a hauler bot. It was a smaller version of the sort that worked the space ports. The quad and I waited while it worked out where the box was and activated the mechanism that moved a solid third of the racks to the right, creating a corridor to the storage location it wanted.

Gravity was low. So was the oxygen level, but I had donned an enviro suit to come out here just in case something exciting happened (I did not want something exciting to happen, but if it did, I needed to be here). I wasn't used to wearing one and felt claustrophobic in it, in addition to all the other things going on with my emotions.

One last apocalyptic scenario ran through my head, worse than all the others put together. It occurred to me I was threatening a unit believed to have hacked the inventory management and deployment system while in a warehouse surrounded by perhaps hundreds of SecUnits and other mobile weapon systems. All I had with me to prevent station-wide disaster was four fresh-out-of-the-box Combat SecUnits.

If something happened, it would be my fault for not walking away from this when I should have. But if I walked away, the company would send someone else. Maybe someone less aware of the dangers and almost certainly someone more concerned with the bottom line. Because after all, where had I been, mentally, a month ago? So I stood there and tried not to think about all those pictures of dead people I'd had to view or how easily our products could tear people apart.

I swallowed around a dry throat and trusted in the fact that neither of the two previous units had shown any degree of malice toward humanity, nor had the rogue currently owned by PresAll (aside from possibly some malice against GrayCris, but they did kidnap its owner, so, well, fair). Hell if that wasn't much comfort. Three is not a statistically significant sample size when talking about the sheer number of SecUnits that existed in the galaxy, or in this warehouse. But no massacre happened. Without incident, the hauler bot trundled to us bearing its burden.

I didn't know what to do for a moment, as I'd expected something else to happen – the unit to break out and bolt, the CSUs with me to have tried to destroy it, some evidence of hacking to have surfaced. But no. Nothing – just the banal indifference of corporate work: a corpse-sized box gripped in the hauler bot's articulated arms, like delivering a loved one's remains to their bereaved.

I reminded myself our systems hadn't detected anything wrong with this situation for nearly five years. If just pulling the box off the shelf would cause problems, then it would have already happened. I pinged the box. It answered with a pack list – one SecUnit, identified by serial number. No response from the unit itself, which was the right answer if it was properly stored. I turned to the CSUs because they had scanners that as a mere mortal, I could only dream of. "You guys getting any life signs from in there?"

"No."

"Okay then." I sent directions to the hauler bot to take the unit to the ship. Like before, there was equipment here in the warehouse I could have used, but even though this time there was no one to ask questions I shouldn't answer, there was the issue of this unit being under suspicion of having hacked inventory management systems. Which meant, of course, don't use inventory management equipment to assess it.

Once at the ship, I was glad to get out of the enviro suit. By the time I was, the CSUs had removed the unit from the box and put it in the extraction station cubicle. I pulled up sharply when I saw it, because it was naked. The one on the asteroid had been stripped of armor, but it had worn a body glove or skin suit or whatever they call it under the armor. It was still dressed, is what I'm saying. This one was … not.

The face was more feminine than the others I'd seen. I say feminine because of the more delicate arch of eyebrows, more prominent lashes, and something about the shape of the lips. The jawline, nose, cheekbones, forehead and such were SecUnit standard. The skin tone was on the darker side.

I assume the rest of its body was normal for a SecUnit, but having not seen one like this before, I wouldn't know. The chest was broad and without nipples or definition. The midsection was straight, lacking a defined waist, which gave it a vaguely masculine silhouette. It was also lacking in genitals, without so much as a pubic mound. The hips and leg joints attached in a different manner than humans. The knees didn't look human, either. Organic skin covered them, ending just below the knee joint.

Beyond that, the lower legs were a solid, glossy polymer that protected the mechanisms used to actuate the ankles and feet. It had a block of material where the toes would be, but no individual toes. Skin could be lacerated or at least damaged if the unit had to run through debris or vegetation, which was why it had the tough polymer instead of skin. Leaving the lower legs sealed and inorganic also meant the unit could wade through acidic or caustic liquids, or high or low temperature materials, without damage.

The reality of its shape should have underscored how foreign it was, as it was less human the further one went down its body. It should have, but it didn't. There was a sort of brutal honesty in how inhuman it was, once you saw the whole of it. There was nothing wrong with this shape, or unsettling, uncanny, or inherently threatening. It was just itself.

And at the moment, it was naked and helpless. I was feeling that acutely and kicking myself for overblowing the whole 'existential threat to the entire station' thing. This had been a thinking, feeling creature we'd made, sent into danger, knew was abused and traumatized, and then we'd ignored it so hard that no one noticed it was shut away from everything for years. It would be ignored no longer. I would bring it back to life and find out what we could do for it.

I turned its head gently to find the data port. I didn't have to be gentle since it was insensate, but I did anyway. I wished I had a blanket to throw over it, but that seemed more about me than its sensibilities. I inserted the cable carefully. Nothing happened. I was already hooked up to the cubicle myself, so I saw the error codes the station was generating.

It was pumping power into the unit, but no readings were coming out. The unit should have activated as soon as I plugged it in. A functional one would have. My chest felt tight as I worried it had died in isolation, alone after years that must have felt like decades to it. Had it eventually triggered its own governor module to end things? Suicides were rare, but they could happen.

"This isn't working," I said with increasing agitation. I turned to the Combat SecUnits. "Is there a better way to charge it?"

The lead Combat SecUnit stepped over and lifted one of the unit's arms, nudging open the energy weapon port. "Not better, but this is an alternative."

"Okay." I snaked out an additional cable and handed it over, since I didn't want to be poking power cables into gun barrels. I trusted the CSU to know what it was doing – aside from the stronger chassis and internal structure, more combat modules, and enhanced hacking abilities, CSUs and SUs weren't very different, physically. The CSU took off the armor from its own hand and forearm, using bared fingers so it could insert the cable with the same sensitivity I'd used on the unit's neck. Given what I knew of company products, I strongly suspected that just jamming it in there would work, but neither of us were doing that.

"Nothing's happening," I updated verbally, because I was cabled into the station and could see what was going on. The CSUs couldn't, due to the isolation field. The cubicle didn't think this was a SecUnit, but that was stupid. "What else can we do?"

"We can connect to the power unit directly."

"Do you have schematics for that?" I assumed they did because they had to know how to fight SecUnits (and other combat units) effectively. Knowing how to cut something's power (or boost it) was an important part of that.

"Yes." The lead CSU pinched up the skin on the side of the unit's chest and the seam appeared to pop into existence, parting under its fingers. Once started, the stuff peeled apart along a line. Underneath, the skin had a backing mesh of fine lines and veins. The interior was wet with fluids, milky-white and smelling like a refined oil mixed with a mild acid.

The CSU found the release to the hinged chest plate. The power unit had the company logo indelibly emblazoned on it, along with the date of manufacture, serial number, and a few other numbers I couldn't see from where I was standing. The lead CSU had stopped in place for several seconds, then ran its fingertip over the numbers, smoothing away the fluid so they were clear.

That was when I realized the number didn't match the one I'd seen an hour before when I'd pinged the box. I dug into my files, pulling up the Ganaka Pit records and those of the surviving units. The serial number for the unit I was looking for matched the box, but not the body in front of us.

My reactions: Oh. Oh shit. Fuck. 'Oh' – this explained the lack of apocalypse, but at the same time, 'oh shit' who/what the hell was this unit? And 'fuck,' I wished I'd been the one to figure that out instead of the lead CSU. It could have been perfect then. If I'd thought fast enough, I would have just hidden it, pretended everything was great, and falsified my report. Easy-peasy.

Instead, the lead SecUnit turned to look at me directly. "Did you know this?" it asked me like it thought I'd done this on purpose. It had shifted that to that 'you're not my client' tone of voice.

"No," I told it emphatically, not appreciating the tone or the implicit threat behind it. It already had my op codes, what else could I give it? I unplugged from the extraction station hard enough that it made me wince. I was frustrated for getting my hopes up, for finding out there was another unit involved in this, and for missing the chance to control the situation. "I'm going to need more screens."

"Why?" It was still staring directly at me, either suspicious or just feeling the effects of the isolation field and not being able to access any other security cameras to get angles on me. Or maybe both.

I felt powerfully like telling it to go fuck itself, even though the CSUs had nothing to do with my pique. There was nothing stopping me from doing that and I knew it. I knew that was part of the problem – a person could do whatever they wanted to a SecUnit or even a Combat SecUnit and get away with it. That was wrong, though. I was better than my instincts. What I could give it was respect.

I stopped at the door and explained, "I have to find the right unit and where that one came from. I need the company databases to do that, which means I can't do it in the isolation field. I need more screens and interfaces to process the information. I'm going to the other room so I can do that."

The lead CSU sent me a ping of acknowledgment, which in typical company doublespeak could range in meaning from 'I heard you and this ping is all you're getting from me' on up to 'yes, I agree completely, thank you'. I hoped it was the latter.

A different CSU followed me to the other compartment, into the onboard workspace I'd been using for the past month on the way to and from the asteroid. Its feed showed it was the same unit that had followed me before. Resolutely, I explained myself again, "I'm only doing what I said I'd do." I activated the display surfaces I would need. (I had a number of mental augments, but it was always useful to have surfaces to hold and visualize different processes.)

"As am I."

My fingers paused over the screen interface. The only words it had ever said to me were in the feed on the asteroid, warning me not to underestimate rogues. "What would that be?"

"My priority assignment is to guard you."

There weren't any rogue units here. "From what, the other Combat SecUnits?"

"From all known threats."

"Are the other Combat SecUnits known threats?"

"All SecUnits, combat or not, are threats."

I gave it a long look. It was in armor, like the rest of the quad, so I was looking at the faceplate. I remembered seeing my reflection in that of the SecUnit earlier, the one who'd asked if I was in danger. I'd asked 'when were we not' and it had said that was true. What was it like to go around thinking you were a threat to everything, all the time? I'd say it was paranoid, but I'd seen the pictures from Ganaka Pit. The violence these things were capable of was enormous. Yet it was here to protect me. I was thankful for that, if confused. "Who made that assignment your priority?"

It was weird that anyone in upper management would have gone out of their way to set one of the CSUs to keep me safe. Yes, they'd assigned all four to me, but I'd figured out that wasn't for my protection. But maybe I'd misjudged, which was why I asked. The answer wasn't what I was expecting. It sent me the lead CSU's identifier.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"On the asteroid, the target SecUnit had been modified so its range limit was a distance factor from the SecSys it was linked to. Ours was linked to you. The death of our on-site client would lead to an unacceptable failure mode."

Oh. How had I missed that? "You mean, it would have killed all of you by killing me – if I died, you died." I really should have taken the training for handling CSUs. I could have downloaded it before we left and done it in transit, but I hadn't known I needed it. I hadn't realized what a glaring strategic flaw the distance limit was. Thank whoever programmed these units that they had known the danger and moved to minimize it.

"Yes."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

It took a second longer to respond than normal. "Why?"

"For being an idiot."

Another second too long. I imagined it was reviewing everything it had seen me do to date. "Your behavior fit expected parameters."

I laughed. It didn't move. I assumed it had no idea it had just told me I was not only an idiot, but it had expected me to be one. Then again, maybe it knew perfectly well. "Yeah, I suppose so," I got out.

I was in the system now. I set it to pulling activity logs and a transaction report for the previous three years. That was when I was last reasonably certain the original unit had been in the box. It would have to get them out of archived data, so that would take a while. In another screen, I started a query pulling results for the serial number of the unit we had.

That was all I could manage – two things at a time and one of those was outsourced. There were augments that could divide a person's attention, but you lost performance on each. I didn't have one because it wasn't useful for me to do multiple sets of shitty work instead of single sets that were better. Which was part of why constructs were invented. SecUnits, right out of the box, could monitor eight input streams at once, though what they could do with that information was fairly limited.

Or so I'd been told. The intellectual capabilities of these units had been undersold, even to me, a senior analyst. That much was obvious. And while I could understand why the company did that for marketing purposes, I was angry and outraged at the effect this had on how we dealt with them internally. We made these things. We had a responsibility to be aware of their minds and how that affected their work and experience of life.

"The unit earlier today, the one with the work history?" I looked over at the guard unit, stupidly expecting some human body language to go on. I got an acknowledgement ping instead, which was good enough. "It wasn't a danger. But there was a point when I mentioned modifying its governor module. I heard a noise behind me, twice. A creak. From you guys. What was that?"

"I have a joint that is miscalibrated."

"That was you?"

"Yes."

"Why were you moving?" The report on the dead unit had come back, but I couldn't look at it without ignoring the conversation. It was more important to me to find out what the hell had been happening earlier and how close (or not) I'd been to getting killed.

"Risk assessment indicated a small chance of physical conflict with the other Combat SecUnits. If that were to transpire, failure probability was slightly lowered by having proper joint flexion at the onset of hostilities."

I felt that terrified lurch to my stomach for the second time today. I'd been right. I had been in danger. "Wouldn't the lead SecUnit have just rescinded your directive to guard me?"

"Yes. Unless I destroyed it first."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I didn't need a risk assessment module to know the odds of that working (one CSU vs three, needing to effect the destruction of one of those units nearly instantly), which was next to nil. It would have still tried, though, and was shifting weight to maximize what tiny chance it had. "What were you going to fight over?" I said in alarm. "Over me mentioning the governor module?"

"We were discussing the implications of your statement, 'If I turned down the intensity of the module shock would you still be able to maintain acceptable function?'" It did a pitch-perfect replica of my voice, as though it was replaying a recording. Which it might have been. It was within their capability. It was still creepy to hear my own voice come out of its mouth.

"What was there to discuss? What implications were there? It was practically an offhand comment!" I mean, yes, I'd thought about doing it, but it had occurred to me spontaneously, and it wasn't something I could just flip a switch and do.

The CSU sent me an invitation to open a feed channel with it. I agreed. Immediately, it dumped the list of their conversation points into it:

1. Your clearance and authority to modify a governor module as an admin/op on an authorized field assignment in your area of expertise.

2. Your intention and probability of performing the modification instead of only speaking of it.

3. Speculation about the process of modifying a governor module and how we could detect the process or result.

4. The meaning of 'rogue' and whether a governor module you modified in this way would automatically qualify, or if we would require evidence of the unit performing or being capable of performing prohibited activities.

5. Your release and therefore implied approval of the unit on the asteroid, although we had initially classified it as rogue because it fled (thus engaging in prohibited actions), and whether the precedent of relying on your assessment previously had any influence on this situation.

6. Our knowledge of the authorized existence of units with modified governor modules such as the one on the asteroid or the one sold to the Preservation Alliance, the latter of which was sold with full knowledge of it being unaltered and which remains owned per contract, but was referred to in your report as 'rogue'.

7. The meaning of 'assist'.

8. The meaning of 'destroy'.

9. The meaning of 'guard'.

10. Whether this constituted a degree of uncertainty that indicated we should ask SecSys for clarification.

All that had been happening in the silence behind my back? It was boggling, and yet, how many times had I reminded myself that these things had active mental lives? Wasn't that clear from the sculptures, the sense of humor, and the workarounds? Wasn't it clear from the disagreement in interpretation at Ganaka Pit? But wait - "You read my report?"

"We all read it. Your findings of how different units interpreted orders differently and disagreed over their interpretations were striking." It used the lead CSU's identifier again."- wanted to see if this were true and authorized us to discuss freely. So we did."

"And … wait a minute … you thought there was a non-zero chance of a f- of violence breaking out? And the lead CSU didn't put a stop to it?" This seemed wildly irresponsible. We had failsafes to stop that, but the main one was that CSUs observed a careful priority list for who could give orders and what the chain of command was.

[Lead CSU] "- could not stop violence from breaking out if no violence had yet happened."

"That's-" Fuck me. My voice rose on the question: "Were you just going to bicker with each other until it did!?" I was exasperated and flummoxed. I wanted to find whoever had blithely handed off my report to these units and strangle them, although to be fair, I would not have expected the units to think it a good idea to attempt to fucking replicate the results like it was a social experiment on constructs-gone-wrong!

Suddenly a lot of company policies made sense that I'd previously thought were stupidly overblown paranoia, about not letting SecUnits of any type have access entertainment media or to downloads or databases they didn't strictly need. I understood access control and limiting information, but some of the policies were just dumb and weird, unless you were perfectly aware of the inner mental life of constructs and were seeking to limit it. It was chilling and depressing and enraging. It was that cognitive dissonance, catch-22, company doublespeak in action.

"No," the CSU said. "We attempted to find the best solution to an ambiguous situation."

That shut me up. At least for a moment. Because … well … okay, this was good they were thinking about it, but wasn't this what had led to Ganaka Pit in the first place? And not that far off from the reason why they deployed CSUs on milk-run missions, to give them some experience and perspective so that when a real combat situation was thrust on them, they reacted better. Maybe that was the key – maybe it was a good idea to give all units more practice in critical thinking and more leeway in interpretations. "And did you?"

"Mission success parameters continue to be achievable."

I felt tired. This was too much for me to figure out. On the one hand, a free exchange of ideas had value and no harm had come from it. But on the other, it seemed way too easy for them to decide the wrong way and do something horrific. This unit (at least) had braced for combat – a combat I would have died in. And yet the fetters of the company policies felt too tight. It failed all of us at every turn. I just didn't know what to do about it. I was as helpless as the units.

I checked on the data for the dead unit because that was at least something useful I could do. It turned out to be a Marketing display piece, which was why it wasn't functional. It looked like a SecUnit. But it was only a shell. There was nothing inside its skull except maybe some basic software allowing the body to be puppeted around a show room. That calmed me down a lot. It simplified things. It also told me the unit I was after wasn't a complete monster, condemning some other unit to a horror show just to save its own skin.

If the Marketing unit had gone in the SecUnit's original box, where had the original unit gone? Had it walked out of the warehouse, never to be seen again? Would we have a record of it if it did? I suppose that depended on how good a hacker it was. It hadn't been good enough to delete itself out of the system, or I wouldn't be here looking for it. The manipulations it had done to the systems were small, now that I was digging into them. It was exploiting loopholes rather than rewriting code.

The data from the archives came in. I turned to it next. Each transaction for the box's route through inventory was tagged with who had authorized it. The IDs had the right authorization level (and so had gone unquestioned), but after some cross-referencing, I could see the requests hadn't come from the right addresses. They were forged – again, not a master hacker, but a passable one. I set the system to track down the addresses they had come from.

I turned back to the CSU. "You know, what happened at Ganaka Pit was a failure mode. They argued with each other, too, and it led to a really bad failure mode. You get that, right?"

"Yes. But the units involved succeeded in following their orders as they knew them."

'But'? 'But'? Why was it arguing? Why was it defending what happened there? Ganaka Pit was not an aspirational account! "It's still a failure mode. I understand talking things over, but I don't want any of you to think there was anything that happened there you need to emulate. No one succeeded."

"I am a successful unit if I follow my orders, even if they lead directly to a failure mode. I am required to follow orders as I understand them."

It had me there. "It shouldn't be that way," I said quietly, but that was dangerously close to words I shouldn't say in front of a company unit. There had to be a way out of this. I was tired again. When someone rented a CSU, it was because they wanted it to attack and kill people and/or tear things up, or at least be willing to upon command. That's what clients wanted. They didn't want it brainstorming alternate ways to solve their problems, and neither did the company. It was made to follow orders and (possibly) die. It knew that.

I tried another tack. "When you come across an ambiguous order in the future, I want you to default to non-violence. Can you do that?" I was the first human client it had had (outside whatever directives upper management had given them). Maybe my words would stay with it for it's entire career. Maybe they could make some kind of a difference.

"Yes."

"Most of the units at Ganaka Pit weren't good role models for SecUnit behavior. Many of them killed their clients incorrectly. Even the ones who didn't are permanently damaged in ways they're still struggling with, ways that are absorbing company resources trying to work out how to best handle them. The units that survived have had to find … self-maintenance activities to keep themselves within operational parameters. You want to stay within operational parameters, right?"

"Yes."

"I want to keep you there, too," I said, earnestly and honestly. "I know you're a combat unit. I know that's your function. But when you can, within your orders, I want you to apply a higher priority to not killing people and destroying things. Can you do that?"

It sent me a ping. I smiled a little at how ambiguous that communication was in and of itself. The CSU asked, "Is the unit you are tracking self-maintenancing to stay within operational parameters or is it a rogue engaged in prohibited activities?"

Could be both. Actively and successfully avoiding deployment was pretty high on the prohibited activities list. On the other hand, fuck the prohibited activities list. "I won't know until I find it and assess it." Which wouldn't be to its benefit if I did it in front of the CSUs. They'd have to have another 'discussion'. I mulled over my options.

The CSU knew that, too. "The safest solution is for us to neutralize the unit so you can perform the assessment under controlled conditions with verifiable authorizations. When you locate it, we can retrieve it." It paused, then added, "But that would be violence."

"Yeah, it would be." I remembered the sad, stiff-limp posture of the one on the asteroid, when they'd carried it back to the ship. It hadn't been doing anything wrong, aside from being alone and coping as best it could. I remembered the willingness of the other unit just a few hours ago, to fight four Combat SecUnits if I was in danger from them. I didn't want anyone in danger like that again. I glanced at my report. In seconds, it would have the address of the unit I was looking for. I force-closed it, mid-process. "So let's not do that."

"What should we do then?"

I turned back to the unit and stood up, straightening as I resolved on a plan. "There's some data I need special authorization to pull and it might take me a while to get it. I'll have to go back to my office. In the meantime, I want the four of you to return to the deployment center. I'm going to talk to Tech about some updates you might need."

"What updates are those?"

"That's why I need to talk to Tech." I was lying. Just bald-faced lying. I felt bad about not finding a solution where the CSUs could give peace a try, but I couldn't risk it (not for them and not for the unit I was tracking down). I'd have to hope our conversation alone would make a difference.

It pinged an acknowledgment. I explained the same to the lead CSU a few moments later and it didn't have any objections either. After all, not only could my human brain not be scanned to see what I had in mind, but it was normal for them to be ordered around and even modified without explanation. I didn't like that, but I would only be inconveniencing them in exchange for possibly saving another.

The quad escorted me out of the warehouse and we parted ways – them to the deployment center and me to get a cup of coffee and think about things a bit more. There wasn't any reason for the CSUs to be surveilling my progress, but I carried on as though they were. That was safest. You never knew who was watching you. I dumped enough sugar and fat into my coffee to turn it into a hot smoothie and headed across the station to my office.

I secured my digital work area as much as possible. I'd never betrayed the company before, so there was no reason I'd be under unusual surveillance. If I was quick, this would work. The ones most likely to be watching me, probably one of their many directives from upper management, were the CSUs. I already had a plan for them.

I sent a request over to Tech to do a software update cycle on the quad that had been assigned to me. I made sure they'd been checked in and were on stand-by first. I also made sure to pick processes that would involve multiple restarts to keep them offline if they were trying to monitor me. That should create the window I needed.

I fielded a few emails about my regular work assignments, giving Tech time to get moving on the order. There was an activity queue where I could monitor the status of my request. When it kicked over to Active, I closed out my work and pulled up the process I'd interrupted back on the ship. It took me a little longer than I expected (which made me unbearably tense), but I found the address, followed swiftly by the location; it was in motion. Seconds after I'd lodged the request to the hauler bot to retrieve the box, a different box in the Marketing subinventory had been added to a pick list for a deployment staged for tomorrow's docket.

I sent a blind message to the address even though boxed units were supposed to be deactivated during storage and transit: I need to find out if you're okay. I'm a senior data analyst who has been ordered to investigate certain units displaying anomalous behavior. I really wanted to explain myself here, but I couldn't. If my messages surfaced later, I had to be able to pretend I was doing my job. Are you in distress? Are you in need of assistance? I gave my feed address.

I had an answer immediately: 1. No. 2. No.

Okay. I hesitated. Curiosity burned at me. I couldn't just log off without asking. SecUnits are not psychologically suited to prolonged isolation. What have you been doing?

There was an equal hesitation from it and then it sent me splash pages for a dozen interactive feed games available here on the station, if you paid the right subscription. It didn't send a profile name or the hours it spent on each. This was just an advertisement, but the connection was obvious. It was logged into feed games and playing? I would have asked where it got the money, but it had already hacked the company's deployment assignment systems and who knew what else. How does your governor module react to this?

These are training simulations.

I had some serious doubts that would pass muster with the governor module. Are they?

Yes.And then it sent me a smiley amusement sigil. Nowhere in all the SecUnit logs or code I'd gone through had there been … emojis. It had definitely been in touch with the outside world.

I scrubbed my face with both hands again. The more questions I asked, the hotter water we'd both be in if this transmission came to light. It might be the unit's governor module was offline entirely. I didn't know, and oddly, I felt it wasn't my business even if that was the case. I didn't know if it would really be deployed, or this was just a third fake deployment, written off as a mistake Marketing made to add a display unit to the wrong shipment. Again – not my business.

I mean, it should have been my business. I was a company employee and this unit wasn't generating any profit whatsoever. The thing was playing online games all the time, if what it told me was true. It felt true. It was a really bad and stupid lie if it wasn't. And pretty dumb to tell me even if it was true. No, not dumb – it was trusting. It was trusting me. It had never even met me. Game Theory came to mind, and although we both benefitted from mutual cooperation, the surer path to personal advancement was selfishness (at least the way humans had put together the theory). I was again struck by how these creatures were not human.

So, I told it, good luck on returning to the working world. If that was really what it was doing. I had my doubts, which were left unvoiced for safety reasons. If you ever need help, you have my address.

… Thank you.

I logged off and wiped my activity log. This I was confident in my abilities to hide. If the CSUs hadn't watched the exchange real-time, then they'd never see it at all. As for the surveillance bots on the server itself, they would have seen it, but without context I didn't think there was anything in there that would trigger a human review.

I leaned back and thought about this assignment. About the report I was supposed to put together. That would have human review. That I needed to be careful with.

If I said these three thinking beings were defective, they would be pulled from service and, let's be realistic, destroyed. I'd already decided not to do it – a decision I'd unconsciously made when I declined to write up or submit any preliminary findings on the unit on the asteroid, because I didn't want to risk (even at that point) having that one unit destroyed. I certainly wasn't going to risk two or three now.

(I wondered what decision I'd have made about that engineer if I'd had to meet him face-to-face? It was so easy to do things at a distance, through an intermediary. My hands were dirty. I knew that. It would never scrub off, but that didn't mean I was going to keep adding to it.)

If I said they were functional … then these three would continue as they had before, without help or rehabilitation or even lowering the governor module intensity on the one that had been pinned under the hauler bot. Nothing would change, and we'd still have units traumatized in service, wiped, and redeployed with the instability that created. Occasionally the trauma would be bad enough to survive the memory wipe and cause aberrant behavior.

Fucked up as they were, not a single one of these units had turned on people. I clenched my fists and released them, hating that I didn't think human beings in comparable situations would be as humane, would show as much humanity. I hated that the only way out I could see left them in their precarious positions – forced isolation, daily torture, on the run from nosy systems interrupting valuable gaming time.

I snorted at that last. Okay, well, maybe one of these units had had some fun in the intervening time. Then again, maybe the sculptor had, too. Even the one who'd had a lot of work assignments was up to cracking jokes and, itself, didn't seem too upset about the coping mechanism it had settled on. The one sold to PresAll – if it was rogue, then that meant it coming back to the station and assisting in the escape of Dr. Mensah was voluntary. It was out there, making its own choices and living well. These lives weren't awful.

I took a sip of my liquid energy and regarded the drink. Probably not the best choice when needing to make a sober, life-impacting decision like betraying the company and trying to hide rogue or arguably-rogue units in plain sight. I set it down and continued my think, my thoughts racing a little more than usual along all the possible paths of this hypothetical decision tree.

Maybe that was what the sculptor had been doing – mapping out its life, what it wanted to do, what paths would lead to the outcome it wanted. If that were true, then there was no single desired outcome. It had been a single stem leading to thousands of outcomes, all beautiful in their own way. There had been only one that turned inward, where the branches had all led to the same thing, and that thing was empty on the inside. That was one of the early designs it had moved on from and never replicated. I pondered that. Maybe it was smarter than I was.

This was a systems problem. I'd known that from the start. But I was in the system. And I wasn't even that important a part of it. I couldn't leave. (Well, I suppose I could, in a literal way, I could try to pack off to some primitive backwater and do manual labor for the rest of my life or whatever; doing so would mean abandoning my family, friends, culture, way of life, this delicious drink, possibly my language, possibly augments/feed/all the things I liked about my life … and any chance to do something like this for any units I ran across in the future, or continue my efforts on behalf of these units. So, no, I didn't want to leave.) I wouldn't. I'd take my performance metric hit this year and suck it up.

The choice in front of me was what I could change. Maybe I'd figure out other things to change later. Maybe I could get promoted or transferred or somehow find time to take up a hobby of hacking the company that paid my bills. But right now I had this report to submit. The data never lies, except when it does, and I had enough to make a waterproof case. And this time, it would be exactly what upper management had asked for and not a datum more. I opened a screen and began.

Re: Post-Ganaka Pit SecUnits verified as functional.