"Professor, is it true that exocomps can directly communicate with computers?"
"Partially," said Data at the lecture hall lectern. "Doctor Farallon designed a tool which relies on a code injection vulnerability common to Tyran computers: including exocomps. It allows exocomps to interact with Tyran computers via sophisticated sensory cues transmitted directly to and from their neural network - incidentally, I used this technology as the basis for the touch-code tool." Behind him, a display projected a diagram illustrating differences between axionic and electronic technology. "Most exocomps can use Federation computers. But it is difficult for them: because our interfaces are heavily reliant on written language and visual symbols, and designed for the humanoid body plan."
"Quite a few exocomps aren't very good at fine motor manipulation or understanding English," said Jurati, beside him. "Since the colony on Tyrus V relies on Federation computers and replicators, this really limits the lives of many exocomps there. Some of them have basically been ostracised - which is obviously not something we want to keep happening if we can help it." She pressed the lectern touch-screen, calling up a new diagram on the display. "Um, so.." she said, running her fingers back through her hair - she'd never gotten used to public speaking. "We need technology to bridge the gap between axionic and electronic computing. This wouldn't just be useful for exocomps. It would streamline the Federation's relations with all societies with axionic computers." With her shaky hand she indicated up to the list of planets on the screen. "That's one reason why the powers that be let us have this lab, by the way, in case you've been wondering."
The dozen or so students present in the lecture hall chuckled. To Jurati's disappointment after she took her job in the exocomp lab, not many people enrolled each year in the Exocomp Cybernetics course. The course mainly appealed to disabled students interested in assistive technologies, non-Humans interested in cross-species communication, and a few Starfleet Academy transfers who wanted to be taught by a former Enterprise bridge officer. Data had tried over the years to advertise the wider applicability and rigour of exocomp research to the general student population, but most seemed to be more interested in creating potentially deadly machines than relating to them.
Data keyed in another slide for the display screen, showing a small video demonstrating the Exocomp Sign for 'obstacle'. "We have so far solved the hardware obstacles of axionic-to-electronic signal conversion. Our larger and more difficult task is now to develop software by which exocomps may operate computers without having to use touchscreens, keyboards, and microphones, and without having to understand Federation Standard."
The next slide showed a diagram of an exocomp neural network. Jurati took the lectern again. "We're trying to involve the exocomps themselves in the development of this operating system as best we can. Many of them are very enthusiastic. But, ideally, they need to be talented with logic and Human language, so they can help map out a grammar of sensory cues that exocomps could use to interact with computers in exacting detail." She pressed another button, and Peanut Hamper's Starfleet Security mugshot appeared above the lectern, to scattered chuckles from the handful of Academy cadets in the seats. "We do have an exocomp at the lab who'd be excellent at that. The only problem is that she's - erm - "
"She cannot yet be trusted to participate constructively," said Data.
"Um - this is maybe kind of an irrelevant question, but - how do you stop Peanut Hamper escaping?" said an Orion in the front row: a visitor from a California-class ship who was training to be a science officer, Jurati recalled.
"It is a very relevant question, D'Vana Tendi," said Data. "Each exocomp emits an electromagnetic radiation signature which is conditioned and made unique by their mental activity and physical characteristics. We have trained the security sensors of every door and transporter pad of the Daystrom Institute to recognise Peanut Hamper's signature, and block her passage as necessary. We sometimes allow Peanut Hamper to roam outside - however, we have set up a geofence which tracks her radiation signature and alerts us to her movements." This answer seemed to satisfy Tendi.
"I mean, personally, I'd love to help develop an operating system," said a young man further back in the seats. "If I may ask - what is she doing instead?"
"Sure. Basically," said Jurati, "she's learning to be an exocomp. In many ways, Peanut Hamper's a very unusual machine. We don't know much about her upbringing on Tyrus V. But from what we can tell, it seems as if she was, for some reason, raised from an early age - perhaps even constructed before birth - to be able to relate to Humans." The young man nodded, taking notes. "That's another reason why we're reluctant, for now, to get her input on the exocomp operating system project. We don't think the way she'd prefer to interface with computers would be appropriate for most exocomps. She needs to learn to better understand her peers first."
Tendi raised an enthusiastic hand, again. "How is she doing that?" she asked.
"We began by introducing her to touch-codes, and then by instructing her in Exocomp Sign," said Data. "The lab exocomps rely heavily on both to communicate their intentions, bond with each other, and co-ordinate shared activities."
"Does that feel pleasant, Peanut Hamper?" said Data as he softly brushed and tapped the transfer fibres of the touch-code tool over her neural junction.
Peanut Hamper didn't reply. Her prongs and treads were twitching and waving like the legs and feelers of a moth, and she seemed to have temporarily disabled her vocal synthesiser. Data stopped brushing. He turned his head and, with mild concern, checked over Peanut's body for any tell-tale signs of malfunction. "Should I continue?"
She turned her vocal synthesiser back on. "Ah - uyy - mmffmm." Jurati, unsure whether this was a good sign or a very bad one, winced. After a few seconds, however, Peanut stopped twitching and waving. ".. It's, uh, okay. So - why don't they let us replicate this stuff back at the colony, anyway?" she said, with affected nonchalance.
"I don't know any more than you do, Peanut," said Jurati with a wry smile, leaning with her elbow on the edge of the repair table Peanut Hamper rested on. "Maybe you should ask your dad next time you talk to him."
"Haha, you'd like that. No," said Peanut. She turned her nozzle up towards Data. "Yeah, I guess you can keep going. If you insist." Data paused, regarding Peanut Hamper with an uncertain, querying tip of his head. "What, you want me to beg for it?"
Data nodded with closed eyes, and swapped out the code chip with one he retrieved from a pocket of the tool apron he wore. "That will not be necessary. However, perhaps you should keep your vocal synthesiser on, so that I am more readily able to detect any problems that may arise."
"Yeah, you wish," said Peanut Hamper. "Nope." She turned it off, and, as Data reconnected the fibres, she began silently waving, whirring, and twitching again.
"Ah, oh, I take everything back!" Peanut sighed with theatrical affect, reactivating her synthesiser as Data disconnected the tool again. As if holding her head in her hands, she cleverly slid and angled her side panels up towards her visual sensor. "I was so terribly misguided, Mister Data. Going to group therapy and being considerate and polite and respecting other exocomps' pronouns is good, actually."
"And we should buy the Brooklyn Bridge from you," Jurati said with dryly lowered eyelids, sitting back down in her foldable armchair and picking up her PADD with the latest volume of the Journal of the Daystrom Institute she was reading.
"Eh?"
"An historical colloquialism," said Data. "Doctor Jurati is insinuating that you are attempting to deceive me. Hold still, please."
"No, no no. Heh. Not at all," Peanut said, as Data disconnected the fibres from her neural junction again. "I have seen the light, and I am totally ready to be reformed by your gentle, yet authoritative guidance." Jurati suppressed a laugh, holding her chin in her hand as she tried to read. "I just - ah - well - "
"You - you would like some more?" said Data, a kind of hopeful sparkle in his eyes as he stood over the repair table. "If you like, I will also teach you how to apply the tool to other exocomps."
Peanut lowered one of her side panels back down, and, with one still raised, turned away from Data, as if to coquettishly hide one side of her face. "I would, but - oh, I've never felt this way before, you see - I'm so afraid that, if I keep going, I'll never be the same," she said, in a small, girlish voice. Jurati suppressed another snicker, and flicked the PADD's corner to turn the page.
"You need not worry," Data reassured her. "Exocomps are highly neuroplastic. To reverse any changes, you need only to stop using the tool and return to your prior behavioural habits. Moreover," he said, leaning forward with his wrist on the repair table and his left hand with the tool behind his back, "your neural network acts quickly to restore homeostasis, meaning that the effects are self-limiting." He lowered his voice a tad. "Peanut Hamper, you may safely have as much as you like."
"Oh - ah heh - I see," she said, slowly turning back towards him and lowering her nozzle demurely. "In - in that case, Professor.."
"..You would like me to continue?"
Peanut Hamper raised her nozzle and flattened all three of her prongs in one quick flick. "Haha. No. Fuck you!"
Jurati rolled her eyes. "As you wish," said Data, unfazed, and began to untie the straps of his tool apron. He switched off the tool's transfer system, removed the code chips, and began placing each item back in its respective wall compartment. "You are, of course, welcome to change your mind."
"Unlikely," snickered Peanut, levitating and rolling herself over in mid-air.
Trying new things with Peanut Hamper could be a bit of a crapshoot, Jurati thought. But, to be fair to her, she had, in her own way, been trying hard to learn Exocomp Sign and make friends since she approached Data for help in the winter. She seemed to click with Alpha-three, who was among the oldest and wisest in the lab, and who was able to help her learn Exocomp Sign. It was also able to tell her in detail about exocomp history, which was intellectually stimulating for her. She also befriended Beta-one, who was not only one of the brighter exocomps, but able to help her with fine motor tasks she struggled with. Now, in late spring, the exocomps were beginning to spend more time outside together, and Beta-one was able to help Peanut work on the puzzle labyrinth they were creating in the grounds outside the building complex.
Yesterday, Peanut's commitment to being part of lab exocomp life had even extended to allowing the art society - a small group of exocomps with artistic interests - to change her body pigment. Her body had become scuffed and discoloured by her travels in open space and her exposure to the elements on Areolus. The art society exocomps, however, cleaned her copper panels by electro-plating them with amber and burgundy chrome. She even allowed them to laser-engrave light silver tattoo-like patterns on her side panels. The symbols engraved on her allegedly had meaning within a pictographic language the art society exocomps were developing. However, Peanut Hamper refused to tell Jurati what they meant: annoying, but, on the other hand, it could be taken as encouraging that there were things she wished to keep only between herself and other exocomps.
Data, in turn, rewarded Peanut's efforts to socialise with access to books and educational holo-programs about her interests: cryptography, games of chance, casinos, and the politics and history of non-aligned planets. Although he was still, to Jurati's mind, overly trusting and indulgent, he took care to airgap any devices and PADDs Peanut used, isolating them from the larger Daystrom network via multiple layers of modification.
"Do you have any more questions?" Jurati asked the class.
They didn't, and, with the lecture coming to an end, the students began to make their way out of the small lecture hall. Data removed the isolinear chips containing their presentation, and Jurati reset the display screen. A few students milled around in the foyer outside, the burble of their talk softly filtering in through the lacquered mahogany doors. As Jurati picked up her satchel and Data, too, turned to go, one of the lecture attendees, a Tyran, approached them to talk. She'd been sitting in the back row - they hadn't noticed her. With her reading glasses and greying hair, they hadn't recognised her, either. It was Doctor Farrallon.