Do Vending Machines Dream of Synthetic Cola? (Part II)

“What does this thing look look like in your eyes?”

Just by those few words, Kante di Aqua understood what the situation: that his eyes were deceived by an unknown power, and the potential danger the situation presented. Appraising various merchandise was probably instinctive to him by this point.

“By the Azure Sea, this machine hacked our optical-cybernetic implants?” Invoking a Genetian exclamation, he quickly stepped back from the mysterious vending machine.

“I have no concrete evidence, but it seems so. I suspect it doesn’t stop at ocular implants, either. When I used it, it stocked Cola, but when Paddington used it, nano-maintenance oil came out instead.”

“Some degree of mind-hacking, then? Even if it is just read-only, it will still be as dangerous as the artefacts in the Forbidden Library.” Kante was taken aback.

“Did I mention that it seems to have some degree of sentience?” I smirked.

“…If the Boss allowed, I would purge it with fire…” Kante di Aqua certainly did not like the idea of a mind-altering, sentient rogue AI in an inconspicuous body.

“GREETINGS. PLEASE CHOOSE YOUR DRINK.” A mechanical voice suddenly came out of the machine again. The AI didn’t like being burnt at stake either, it seems.

“Well Kante,” I pointed at my half-finished Cola, while Paddington pointed at her bottle of maintenance oil, “it’s your turn.”

“You jest, Lady Constance. Why would I want to buy merchandise from this shoddy machine?”

“We need to investigate how it works now that we know it’s an artefact. Besides, the product tastes surprisingly normal and there are no traces of poison,” I replied, “and it also takes counterfeit currency. As a merchant, will you refuse a freebie? Plus, it won’t give up until you bought something.”

Kante di Aqua’s response was to flee. “It won’t give up? What can it do if I run away?!” I heard him screaming, as he left a a gust of wind in my face. He might be a fish in a tank, but his cybernetic body nonetheless had the same physical strength as all other cybernetically enhanced species’.

“GREETINGS. PLEASE CHOOSE YOUR DRINK.” The machine repeated itself, as it grew two long arms out of its sides, which started chasing the fish-man. Kante ran around in circles. The arms followed him. As for the woman and the teddy bear, they simply took spyglasses and popcorn out of their bags and enjoyed the show.

30 minutes later, Kante gave up.

———————————

Soon, we found an unholy mountain of artificially colourful human drinks and offensively organic Genetian drinks. The scans reveal that all of them seemed to be well-synthesised and fit for consumption.

“Thank you for your continued patronage.” The vending machine, seemingly happy with the amount of revenue, played a cheerful chime.

“At least it wasn’t outright hostile…” Kante whispered with a sad face, “but my ancient punched cards are all gone…”

“I told you to make counterfeits.”

“Lady Constance, not everyone can manipulate nanomachines as precisely as like you can! This middle-aged man’s job is doing spreadsheets and has been doing that for my entire life. It’s too late to switch careers and become an engineer.”

“‘Compiling the Codex of Galactic Trade Goods’ is just doing spreadsheets, huh…?” I smirked. Kante’s job was way more complicated than what he made it to be; without his deep knowledge of galactic trading routes, the work would have gone nowhere.

…Maybe the same could be said for my knowledge of nanomaterials and my ability to manipulate the cityscape using them.

“In any case, I think I know what it is.” I leaned on a wall. “It is essentially an unholy union of an ancient Amplifier Antenna, an AI core, and a food synthesiser. It is surrounded by a shell, a thin layer of nano-cermet it appropriated from the wall, which can change its shape rapidly when you interact with it; that is why it could appear as very different machines in our eyes and still function correctly for each of us.”

“How did you catch that? I didn’t even notice that there is a shell.” Kante seemed amused.

I pointed at Paddington. “I synced my sense with her.

“Paddington is an AI. By definition, she is closer to what that thing is than we are. They have the same logic circuitry, the same processing patterns. The same type of ‘soul’, if you would. Then, wouldn’t the thing be closer to its original form in her eyes? Even if it is not exactly same, with my own memories and thought pattern as a reference point, and a bit of interpolation, we can deduce that thing’s true nature.”

Kante was stunned. “You allowed nano-implants to record your memories and thought patterns? That’s like hacking your own mind. It’s sort of a taboo, you know?”

“Well, I don’t really care. And it is not exactly illegal, either.”

Young ladies should be more careful about yourself, was what Kante’s face was saying. But he gave up arguing before saying anything; he knew that it was my freedom to do so, and saying anything else would be him overstepping his bounds.

“What should we do? This thing is probably beyond our means to handle. Normally Archon Aurum will be the one handling artefacts. But she’s probably preoccupied with the monthly Archive Defragmentation at the moment. Emerald is the professional when it comes to AIs, but it’s probably a bad idea to let him handle a cyber-hazard.” I started listing our options.

“I agree. And Archons Azure and Amber are busy on the Reserve right now, so they too aren’t helpful. That means only Archons Burgundy and Indigo will be able to help…” Kante fell into deep thought.

“I will call Archon Burgundy then. His estates are less dependent on nanomachines, so if this vending machine does anything weird, it will have a smaller impact. I think Anchor 42D will be a perfect fit.”

“The Anchor you are staying at, right? That particular Anchor’s infrastructure was built without nanomachines, I heard. But how are you getting it there? This AI seems to have quite inflexible programming. I don’t think it would agree to move easily; it will probably attempt to merge with the ground if we try to forcibly remove it.”

“I have an idea. …This angle should be fine. Kante, step aside. Paddington, I will leave half the hacking to you if necessary.”

The giant teddy bear made an “OK” gesture. Everything was ready, then.

I summoned my “wand” — my Amplifier Antenna from my veins. The brightly glowing purple baton in my hand, I began to chant my “magic”.

“Invoke: 3rd degree self-deconstruction scheme, 276th modification. Limit: unset. Enable admin privilege override. Output settings: maximum.” Circles of light began to appear in front of me, as if they were magic circles in the books.

“In the name of Constance Rainsford, Archivist of the Kexteran State, the heritor of your makers, those who serve bound another will --- disestablish yourself and reduce to nothingness!”

Unleashed from the end of my wand, a beam of light pierced the mysterious vending machine, and then tore through the buildings on its path, leaving a big hole behind. The “vending machine” lost its façade, and only a black macaron-shaped object remained, floating in the air.

“…and you should cease your deception.” I pointed the wand at the black macaron and gave my final order. The black macaron --- the core of the vending machine --- turned purple and fell to the ground. The artefact had accepted my command and deactivated itself; it would not pose danger to us for the time being.

“…Lady Constance, I feel I need an explanation.” Kante, still unsettled, inquired.

“It’s nothing special. You know how nano-construction work, right?”

“It’s not the area of my expertise… but Kexpedia says it’s a process that involves giving inactive nanomachines a clear signal, a verifiable security clearance, and some energy, and transmute them into a structure you want?”

“Precisely. Nanomachines are weak to interference by themselves, due to their diminutive size. Therefore, they always needed a strong signal — a strong “will” from the user — to move. Sometimes that comes from an integrated organ, like an AI core in a drone, the rudimentary circuitry Paddington once had, or a biological brain. An Amplifier Antenna, like the one I had or the one in this tasty-looking macaron, can strengthen the signal and make it easier to manipulate nanomachines.”

“Ah, I understand now. So that beam of light is simply a very strong ‘emergency stop’ command.”

I nodded. “Since for some reason the nanomachines recognise my willpower, I overpowered the commands from the vending machine’s barely sentient core. The nanites that was in this machine recognised my authority so they just accepted to deactivate, but sometimes hacking would be needed — that was why I asked for Paddington’s help.”

“I see.” The fish in the tank replied, still confused but somewhat satisfied. “But I have been thinking. What was the vending machine trying to do?” Kante picked up a bottle of synthetic Cola.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think it was designed, or perhaps more likely, evolved, to make us, and beings like us, see sweet and nostalgic dreams from our childhood.” I replied, picking up an artificial Genetian drink myself. “Scans show the core wasn’t really well-put together. Its three parts are bound together by layers of nanomachine-made cables, an unholy amount of deformed nanomatter, and some spaghetti code that is somehow worse than both. The code showed it does have some limited sentience, but it is very incomplete.

“Most likely, a caretaker drone’s AI core fell into the Food Synthesiser and absorbed it. Over thousands of years, the AI achieved a limited degree of intelligence. At some point, someone added the ancient Amplifier Antenna into it, which is an artefact by itself, and the machine learnt how to mind-hack.” I concluded.

“That makes sense — my father often brought me to museums with those old machines. So, it really just wanted us to have a nice drink, like we did in our childhood?”

“Likely so. I don’t know why ‘nostalgic drinks’ was the theme it chose, but it probably relates to the AI’s original job in the millennia past. Perhaps, it was something close to regret.”

“Then, for the little guy, I should enjoy my drink.” Kante twisted open the synthetic Cola’s iconic bottle. “But Lady Constance, I cannot say I can carry your childhood favourite if I was still a merchant. Frankly, this bubbly, muddy water smells like pestilence.”

“Likewise, Kante. This can of ‘seawater with an octopus’ corpse’ will spark a diplomatic incident if served to our President.” I joked. “Cheers, Kante.”

“Cheers!”

The sun yet shined as it did in memories past. Under its gentle watch, a human, a bear and a fish raised their respective drinks, and put to their mouths a piece of each other’s nostalgic dream.