Read Online A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons by Christopher G. Nuttall - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher G. Nuttall
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to a straight fight, we’d be screwed. We have no weapons, apart from a pair of popguns, and our shields are commercial-grade. And if they wanted to search us thoroughly , Director, we’d be screwed too. There’s no way we could hide all the enhancements if they took the ship apart. In that case, I would have no choice, but to activate the self-destruct system and blow the ship into atoms.”
“I understand,” Kevin assured her. “My implants won’t let me be taken alive.”
“Try not to get hurt, then,” Jean said. She swung around and started walking towards the hatch. “It would be a shame to lose you to a stupid accident.”
Kevin nodded in agreement as she led him through the hatch and into a short stubby corridor, illuminated only by pale lights set into the bulkhead. His implants were designed to resist everything from direct brain access to simple old-fashioned torture, but they lacked the intelligence of a standard-issue Restricted Intelligence, let alone an AI. If he managed to hurt himself badly, the implants might assume he was being tortured and kill him before he managed to recover. It was one of the risks of serving in the SIA.
It could be worse , he thought. One of the darker ways the SIA had managed to obtain information came from hacking into Galactic implants. We could run the risk of having our implants subverted and our brains rewritten into mush .
“This is your cabin,” Jean said. “I’m afraid there’s barely enough room to swing a cat, but we don’t have anything bigger unless you want to bed down in the hold. Below that, there’s the COT team’s cabins; they’re sleeping two to a compartment. The final room is a VR suite, graded A-Plus. I suggest you visit the shower after using it or the crew will throw a fit.”
Kevin scowled. “I wasn't planning to access porn,” he protested.
Jean snorted. “That’s what they all say,” she said. “But, to be fair, even an action-adventure flick can leave someone sweaty and horrible.”
“I remember televisions,” Kevin said, softly. “They used to say that kids wasted away in front of the idiot box.”
“It’s just a matter of discipline,” Jean said. She’d been born in the Solar Union and had been raised understanding the promise – and danger – of advanced technology. “If someone wants to seal themselves into a VR chamber and just play until their brains rot, it’s their problem.”
Kevin shrugged. For him, real life was exciting and meaningful, but he knew that others might not feel the same way. Even in the Solar Union, there were those who didn’t have the drive or the determination to make something of themselves. They could buy themselves a VR chamber and lose themselves in fantasies of being everything from a starship pilot to a pirate roaming the oceans on Earth. Some of the fantasies were so weird that Kevin had problems imagining that anyone would want them.
But we are not allowed to judge , he reminded himself, sternly. Steve Stuart had laid down the law fifty years ago, refusing to accept the chance to start drawing lines. As long as no one else is harmed, or in real danger of being harmed, it cannot be criminal.
“We have several thousand GalStars worth of trade goods in the hold,” Jean said, as they dropped down a level. “Maintaining our cover as an independent trader requires work, I’m afraid. I’ll be trying to sell goods on Varnar while you’re doing your work. Luckily, most of what we have won’t go very quickly. We don’t want to outstay our welcome.”
Kevin frowned. The Galactics had a trading network that was almost completely unrestricted, at least outside the Tokomak homeworlds. But someone would notice, he suspected, if a freighter remained in dock too long. After all, a trader ship needed to earn money and she wouldn't be earning money if she happened to
“I understand,” Kevin assured her. “My implants won’t let me be taken alive.”
“Try not to get hurt, then,” Jean said. She swung around and started walking towards the hatch. “It would be a shame to lose you to a stupid accident.”
Kevin nodded in agreement as she led him through the hatch and into a short stubby corridor, illuminated only by pale lights set into the bulkhead. His implants were designed to resist everything from direct brain access to simple old-fashioned torture, but they lacked the intelligence of a standard-issue Restricted Intelligence, let alone an AI. If he managed to hurt himself badly, the implants might assume he was being tortured and kill him before he managed to recover. It was one of the risks of serving in the SIA.
It could be worse , he thought. One of the darker ways the SIA had managed to obtain information came from hacking into Galactic implants. We could run the risk of having our implants subverted and our brains rewritten into mush .
“This is your cabin,” Jean said. “I’m afraid there’s barely enough room to swing a cat, but we don’t have anything bigger unless you want to bed down in the hold. Below that, there’s the COT team’s cabins; they’re sleeping two to a compartment. The final room is a VR suite, graded A-Plus. I suggest you visit the shower after using it or the crew will throw a fit.”
Kevin scowled. “I wasn't planning to access porn,” he protested.
Jean snorted. “That’s what they all say,” she said. “But, to be fair, even an action-adventure flick can leave someone sweaty and horrible.”
“I remember televisions,” Kevin said, softly. “They used to say that kids wasted away in front of the idiot box.”
“It’s just a matter of discipline,” Jean said. She’d been born in the Solar Union and had been raised understanding the promise – and danger – of advanced technology. “If someone wants to seal themselves into a VR chamber and just play until their brains rot, it’s their problem.”
Kevin shrugged. For him, real life was exciting and meaningful, but he knew that others might not feel the same way. Even in the Solar Union, there were those who didn’t have the drive or the determination to make something of themselves. They could buy themselves a VR chamber and lose themselves in fantasies of being everything from a starship pilot to a pirate roaming the oceans on Earth. Some of the fantasies were so weird that Kevin had problems imagining that anyone would want them.
But we are not allowed to judge , he reminded himself, sternly. Steve Stuart had laid down the law fifty years ago, refusing to accept the chance to start drawing lines. As long as no one else is harmed, or in real danger of being harmed, it cannot be criminal.
“We have several thousand GalStars worth of trade goods in the hold,” Jean said, as they dropped down a level. “Maintaining our cover as an independent trader requires work, I’m afraid. I’ll be trying to sell goods on Varnar while you’re doing your work. Luckily, most of what we have won’t go very quickly. We don’t want to outstay our welcome.”
Kevin frowned. The Galactics had a trading network that was almost completely unrestricted, at least outside the Tokomak homeworlds. But someone would notice, he suspected, if a freighter remained in dock too long. After all, a trader ship needed to earn money and she wouldn't be earning money if she happened to
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