Agent Carolina
Artificial Intelligence: Mu (Confidence(?)) and Omicron (Pessimism)
“This is getting ridiculous,” Carolina muttered. Though her words hadn’t necessarily been directed at him, Minnesota nodded eagerly. It hadn’t even been an hour before the Freelancer’s rumour mill had started running, and already everyone was wandering over to the biohazard zone to see what they could see.
One of them is going to start a riot, Omicron whined. How are we going to fight off all of them?
No one’s going to start a riot, Mu said. Not when we’re around.
Those things keep bashing against the walls…
Omicron! Carolina growled. Those walls are five inches thick. Airtight! Nothing is getting through.
Something will go wrong. Something always goes wrong.
Carolina groaned, thankful that only Minnesota (and Beta) was around to hear it. Minnesota was too intimidated to show much concern, and the last thing she wanted was concern. The last thing she needed was people knowing she was having trouble with her AI. Mu wouldn’t let her consider failing, and if they did, then he would immediately place the blame on one of the other agents –or, if there was no one else, Carolina. Mu never accepted that he’d been beat. And Omicron was in some ways better, but in others worse–he was always sure they would fail, and if they did, he would never place the blame on anyone specifically. He saw it as a foregone conclusion. And he never shut up.
York and Wash were cautioning away onlookers, from an insistent South Dakota to a pleading trooper. The Director was not initiating a full lock-down or a more stringent quarantine –probably sure the walls were more than enough to contain the…things. Carolina suspected that having guards around was less to keep the monsters in than to keep the others out.
“I can feel the banging in my skull,” Minnesota stated. The creatures were indeed making an unholy racket as they tried to punch their way out of their prison. Carolina had been too distracted by her AI to pay much attention.
“Minnesota–”
“Sota,” he corrected, then hunched slightly, as if expecting a rebuke.
Are we really so terrifying? Omicron mused.
Yes, Mu replied, sounding very pleased with himself.
“Sota,” Carolina nodded. The kid relaxed. “How’s your shoulder?” He had neither broken nor dislocated it when he took the hit, but he was still rubbing it now and then. It was a convenient way to start a conversation with someone other than her AI.
“…Stings,” he admitted. “I’m fine, though.”
Beta’s form appeared, and Carolina prepared herself for a potential onslaught of panicked questions. Beta was generally treated as a baby sister by most of the AI, and while few were openly cruel to her, she only spoke to a very select group. Carolina, as she had found out a few weeks ago, was part of that group. Omicron and Mu were not.
“What are those things?” Beta asked. The fact that it had taken her this long to ask probably meant she’d spent the entire forty minutes trying to figure it out for herself, maybe asking Sota for help.
The result of a horrible virus, stated Omicron. Carolina didn’t argue, because despite how cheap-horror-movie the idea sounded, he seemed to be right.
“Did you see those little ones? Like what Sota shot?” Carolina asked. In their few encounters, Carolina had learned that dealing with Beta took patience and gentleness. Anything less and the insecure AI would close up and possibly ‘cry’.
Beta nodded, her artificial blue hair bobbing.
“One of those scratched Michigan,” she explained. “And that infected him with something. And he turned into… one of those larger creatures.”
“How did the others get infected?”
Carolina sighed.“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess whatever restraints they used just weren’t enough.”
Beta cocked her head to the side, and then asked, “What happened to Eta?”
We still hear him, Omicron moaned.
It’s not him, Mu cut in. That virus, or whatever it is, infected Eta just as bad as it did Michigan.
“…You tell me,”Carolina said eventually.
Beta’s eyes widened, and she shook her head profusely. “I don’t want to talk to him! He’s scary!”
Carolina raised an eyebrow at this –Eta was not generally thought of as ‘scary’. ‘Annoying’ was a more commonly used descriptor.
“Calm down,”Sota told his AI. “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
Beta’s hologram disappeared as Sota’s posture became more relaxed, expression distant –it was the usual pose of a Freelancer deep in conversation with their AI. Some Freelancers spent more time in this state than others.
I don’t like it here, Omicron insisted. It feels bad. Can’t you sense that something bad is going to happen?
We’ll be fine, Mu snapped. Five-inch thick walls, remember?
But –
Omicron. Carolina’s tone demanded attention. If you do not stop repeating that something is going to go wrong, I am ordering you offline. Do you understand?
…Yes, Omicron sulked.
A commotion interrupted Carolina and Sota’s respective conversations. Another couple of Freelancers were demanding to see what was going on –but these two weren’t dissuaded by Wash and York. One’s voice grew in volume as the argument went on, and the other stood there implacably, interjecting with calm remarks to give her support. Carolina recognised the white and blue Mark VI armour of Utah, and the smoky red and purple, similar in design to Carolina’s, of Alaska.
“Sota, stay here,” Carolina ordered. Both Mu and Omicron cried out at that, certain that Sota couldn’t handle it on his own. Then logic caught up to Mu, and he reminded Omicron of how tough the walls were (again) and how they wouldn’t be too far away if something went wrong (a fact that did little to comfort Omicron).
Doing her best to ignore her AI, Carolina pushed away from the door and headed towards the four other agents.
“What do you mean I can’t see her?” Utah demanded. “What’s wrong with Ida?”
“Sorry, Utah,”Wash said. “But this place is quarantined. We have orders to keep it qui–”
“It didn’t happen to her, did it?” Utah interrupted, voice rising to an almost shrill quality. “What happened to Michigan couldn’t have happened to her.”
Alaska put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We already know about the disease,” she stated calmly, her Russian accent shining through despite years away from home. “Did it spread to Idaho and the medics?”
“There were a few Marines in there, too,” Utah murmured, the fight in him gone for now.
“How did you find out?” Carolina cut in.
“Montana told us,” Utah said.
“If I may,”Delta said, hologram flickering into existence next to York’s head. “Since the AI Pi showed a holographic image of both the smaller forms –termed‘Beach-Balls’, by Agent Massachusetts –and the humans infected at Beaver Creek in front of several Marines as well as agents Washington and Kentucky, it would appear that word has spread via rumour.”
“Wash?” Carolina asked.
“…I only told Maine and North!” he swore. “And that was before the Director told us to keep it quiet!”
“There’s no point in trying to keep it quiet,” Alaska said. “Everyone has some idea of what’s happening, and the rumours seem to be getting far worse than whatever the truth may be.”
“Great,”Carolina muttered. The new information had gotten Mu and Omicron bickering again.
“Alright,” York said. “Yes, Idaho’s been… infected. I’m sorry.”
“So you locked her up?” Utah snapped.
“We have orders, Utah,” Carolina replied.
“Look, Utah, we’d love to help, but –ngh!”
York’s placating speech was cut off with a punch to the face, sending him back into the wall. Utah used the surprise it bought him and pushed past the other two, sprinting to the door where whatever passed as Idaho was locked along with the medics and Marines.
Alaska clearly had not expected this, but hesitated to go after her friend. Wash took a step towards York, then Utah, unsure of what to do. Carolina, with Mu’s spurring, had no such qualms. Even Omicron helped with his absolute certainty that they would fail pushing Carolina to prove him wrong.
But as she leaped after him, a red-armoured hand grabbed her wrist, tugging her back. Alaska had instinctively tried to stop the threat to Utah, but let go the instant her mind caught up to her body.
We’re too late, Omicron said.
No, we’re – Mu’s angry exclamation stopped when he realised just how right Omicron was.
Sota, distracted by Beta’s questions, hadn’t been able to react in time. Utah had slammed him against the wall, leaving the younger agent out of the fight for now.
Like York, Utah was labelled an infiltration specialist –a hacker. And that was how he was able to open the door just before Carolina reached him.
In one of Omicron’s smarter moments, he didn’t say anything along the lines of ‘I told you so’.
Alarms flashed all over the place. “Quarantine breached,” FILSS announced. “Initiating sector lockdown.”
"Ida!?” Utah yelled. What had once been a medic –maybe even Ida –launched itself at Utah and knocked him to the ground.
We can’t save them, Omicron said, for once not whining. He sounded shell-shocked.
Omicron had a point with Utah –there was no way he was getting up. So Carolina grabbed Sota’s arm, and dragged him to his feet, tugging him along behind her as they raced to the edge of the biohazard sector.
York, Wash and Alaska were already safe, probably because of Alaska’s cold practicality overriding York and Wash’s desire to help. Carolina silently thanked her for that, though still cursed her for having slowed her down. They would be having a talk about that later.
“Wha–?” Sota managed, not entirely recovered from Utah’s hit.
Ignoring Sota’s question, Mu’s half-crazed laughter, Omicron’s disturbing silence, and her own general anger, Carolina kept running, Sota doing his best to keep his feet under him.
Mu! Carolina snapped, breaking through his… hysterics? Sprint, now!
Without a word, Mu activated her second armour enhancement –a piece of equipment allowing her to run at ridiculous speeds.
Easily a match for a Spartan, Mu declared, the danger momentarily forgotten.
Sota could barely keep his feet on the ground and was reduced to trying to be as small a load as possible. Carolina tightened her grip on him, and the end of the hallway was in sight, with Alaska and Wash gesturing wildly. York –he must be the reason they weren’t locked in yet, keeping their exit open.
Sota yelled a warning the same time Mu and Omicron screamed Alarm!
The sound of their combined voices at full volume in her head stung, but was nothing compared to the pain in her leg following the sharp crackcrackcrack of an assault rifle.
The infected Marines can still fire their weapons, Omicron noted.
Carolina and Sota crashed to the ground, skidding past Wash and Alaska. Carolina let go of Sota and Alaska caught him, while she crashed into the wall. The blast doors slid shut behind them, closing off the creatures. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, which faded when the other four noticed Carolina’s injuries.
“Oh, shit,”Alaska said. Her voice was still eerily calm. What, was she in shock?
“Sota?” Carolina asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Carolina tried to rise, but cursed when pain shot through her left leg. There were several bullet marks on both legs, but only four on the left had managed to penetrate her armour. ‘Only’ being used in a relative sense, of course.
“York,” she said. “Call a medical team.”
Artificial Intelligence: Mu (Confidence(?)) and Omicron (Pessimism)
“This is getting ridiculous,” Carolina muttered. Though her words hadn’t necessarily been directed at him, Minnesota nodded eagerly. It hadn’t even been an hour before the Freelancer’s rumour mill had started running, and already everyone was wandering over to the biohazard zone to see what they could see.
One of them is going to start a riot, Omicron whined. How are we going to fight off all of them?
No one’s going to start a riot, Mu said. Not when we’re around.
Those things keep bashing against the walls…
Omicron! Carolina growled. Those walls are five inches thick. Airtight! Nothing is getting through.
Something will go wrong. Something always goes wrong.
Carolina groaned, thankful that only Minnesota (and Beta) was around to hear it. Minnesota was too intimidated to show much concern, and the last thing she wanted was concern. The last thing she needed was people knowing she was having trouble with her AI. Mu wouldn’t let her consider failing, and if they did, then he would immediately place the blame on one of the other agents –or, if there was no one else, Carolina. Mu never accepted that he’d been beat. And Omicron was in some ways better, but in others worse–he was always sure they would fail, and if they did, he would never place the blame on anyone specifically. He saw it as a foregone conclusion. And he never shut up.
York and Wash were cautioning away onlookers, from an insistent South Dakota to a pleading trooper. The Director was not initiating a full lock-down or a more stringent quarantine –probably sure the walls were more than enough to contain the…things. Carolina suspected that having guards around was less to keep the monsters in than to keep the others out.
“I can feel the banging in my skull,” Minnesota stated. The creatures were indeed making an unholy racket as they tried to punch their way out of their prison. Carolina had been too distracted by her AI to pay much attention.
“Minnesota–”
“Sota,” he corrected, then hunched slightly, as if expecting a rebuke.
Are we really so terrifying? Omicron mused.
Yes, Mu replied, sounding very pleased with himself.
“Sota,” Carolina nodded. The kid relaxed. “How’s your shoulder?” He had neither broken nor dislocated it when he took the hit, but he was still rubbing it now and then. It was a convenient way to start a conversation with someone other than her AI.
“…Stings,” he admitted. “I’m fine, though.”
Beta’s form appeared, and Carolina prepared herself for a potential onslaught of panicked questions. Beta was generally treated as a baby sister by most of the AI, and while few were openly cruel to her, she only spoke to a very select group. Carolina, as she had found out a few weeks ago, was part of that group. Omicron and Mu were not.
“What are those things?” Beta asked. The fact that it had taken her this long to ask probably meant she’d spent the entire forty minutes trying to figure it out for herself, maybe asking Sota for help.
The result of a horrible virus, stated Omicron. Carolina didn’t argue, because despite how cheap-horror-movie the idea sounded, he seemed to be right.
“Did you see those little ones? Like what Sota shot?” Carolina asked. In their few encounters, Carolina had learned that dealing with Beta took patience and gentleness. Anything less and the insecure AI would close up and possibly ‘cry’.
Beta nodded, her artificial blue hair bobbing.
“One of those scratched Michigan,” she explained. “And that infected him with something. And he turned into… one of those larger creatures.”
“How did the others get infected?”
Carolina sighed.“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess whatever restraints they used just weren’t enough.”
Beta cocked her head to the side, and then asked, “What happened to Eta?”
We still hear him, Omicron moaned.
It’s not him, Mu cut in. That virus, or whatever it is, infected Eta just as bad as it did Michigan.
“…You tell me,”Carolina said eventually.
Beta’s eyes widened, and she shook her head profusely. “I don’t want to talk to him! He’s scary!”
Carolina raised an eyebrow at this –Eta was not generally thought of as ‘scary’. ‘Annoying’ was a more commonly used descriptor.
“Calm down,”Sota told his AI. “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
Beta’s hologram disappeared as Sota’s posture became more relaxed, expression distant –it was the usual pose of a Freelancer deep in conversation with their AI. Some Freelancers spent more time in this state than others.
I don’t like it here, Omicron insisted. It feels bad. Can’t you sense that something bad is going to happen?
We’ll be fine, Mu snapped. Five-inch thick walls, remember?
But –
Omicron. Carolina’s tone demanded attention. If you do not stop repeating that something is going to go wrong, I am ordering you offline. Do you understand?
…Yes, Omicron sulked.
A commotion interrupted Carolina and Sota’s respective conversations. Another couple of Freelancers were demanding to see what was going on –but these two weren’t dissuaded by Wash and York. One’s voice grew in volume as the argument went on, and the other stood there implacably, interjecting with calm remarks to give her support. Carolina recognised the white and blue Mark VI armour of Utah, and the smoky red and purple, similar in design to Carolina’s, of Alaska.
“Sota, stay here,” Carolina ordered. Both Mu and Omicron cried out at that, certain that Sota couldn’t handle it on his own. Then logic caught up to Mu, and he reminded Omicron of how tough the walls were (again) and how they wouldn’t be too far away if something went wrong (a fact that did little to comfort Omicron).
Doing her best to ignore her AI, Carolina pushed away from the door and headed towards the four other agents.
“What do you mean I can’t see her?” Utah demanded. “What’s wrong with Ida?”
“Sorry, Utah,”Wash said. “But this place is quarantined. We have orders to keep it qui–”
“It didn’t happen to her, did it?” Utah interrupted, voice rising to an almost shrill quality. “What happened to Michigan couldn’t have happened to her.”
Alaska put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We already know about the disease,” she stated calmly, her Russian accent shining through despite years away from home. “Did it spread to Idaho and the medics?”
“There were a few Marines in there, too,” Utah murmured, the fight in him gone for now.
“How did you find out?” Carolina cut in.
“Montana told us,” Utah said.
“If I may,”Delta said, hologram flickering into existence next to York’s head. “Since the AI Pi showed a holographic image of both the smaller forms –termed‘Beach-Balls’, by Agent Massachusetts –and the humans infected at Beaver Creek in front of several Marines as well as agents Washington and Kentucky, it would appear that word has spread via rumour.”
“Wash?” Carolina asked.
“…I only told Maine and North!” he swore. “And that was before the Director told us to keep it quiet!”
“There’s no point in trying to keep it quiet,” Alaska said. “Everyone has some idea of what’s happening, and the rumours seem to be getting far worse than whatever the truth may be.”
“Great,”Carolina muttered. The new information had gotten Mu and Omicron bickering again.
“Alright,” York said. “Yes, Idaho’s been… infected. I’m sorry.”
“So you locked her up?” Utah snapped.
“We have orders, Utah,” Carolina replied.
“Look, Utah, we’d love to help, but –ngh!”
York’s placating speech was cut off with a punch to the face, sending him back into the wall. Utah used the surprise it bought him and pushed past the other two, sprinting to the door where whatever passed as Idaho was locked along with the medics and Marines.
Alaska clearly had not expected this, but hesitated to go after her friend. Wash took a step towards York, then Utah, unsure of what to do. Carolina, with Mu’s spurring, had no such qualms. Even Omicron helped with his absolute certainty that they would fail pushing Carolina to prove him wrong.
But as she leaped after him, a red-armoured hand grabbed her wrist, tugging her back. Alaska had instinctively tried to stop the threat to Utah, but let go the instant her mind caught up to her body.
We’re too late, Omicron said.
No, we’re – Mu’s angry exclamation stopped when he realised just how right Omicron was.
Sota, distracted by Beta’s questions, hadn’t been able to react in time. Utah had slammed him against the wall, leaving the younger agent out of the fight for now.
Like York, Utah was labelled an infiltration specialist –a hacker. And that was how he was able to open the door just before Carolina reached him.
In one of Omicron’s smarter moments, he didn’t say anything along the lines of ‘I told you so’.
Alarms flashed all over the place. “Quarantine breached,” FILSS announced. “Initiating sector lockdown.”
"Ida!?” Utah yelled. What had once been a medic –maybe even Ida –launched itself at Utah and knocked him to the ground.
We can’t save them, Omicron said, for once not whining. He sounded shell-shocked.
Omicron had a point with Utah –there was no way he was getting up. So Carolina grabbed Sota’s arm, and dragged him to his feet, tugging him along behind her as they raced to the edge of the biohazard sector.
York, Wash and Alaska were already safe, probably because of Alaska’s cold practicality overriding York and Wash’s desire to help. Carolina silently thanked her for that, though still cursed her for having slowed her down. They would be having a talk about that later.
“Wha–?” Sota managed, not entirely recovered from Utah’s hit.
Ignoring Sota’s question, Mu’s half-crazed laughter, Omicron’s disturbing silence, and her own general anger, Carolina kept running, Sota doing his best to keep his feet under him.
Mu! Carolina snapped, breaking through his… hysterics? Sprint, now!
Without a word, Mu activated her second armour enhancement –a piece of equipment allowing her to run at ridiculous speeds.
Easily a match for a Spartan, Mu declared, the danger momentarily forgotten.
Sota could barely keep his feet on the ground and was reduced to trying to be as small a load as possible. Carolina tightened her grip on him, and the end of the hallway was in sight, with Alaska and Wash gesturing wildly. York –he must be the reason they weren’t locked in yet, keeping their exit open.
Sota yelled a warning the same time Mu and Omicron screamed Alarm!
The sound of their combined voices at full volume in her head stung, but was nothing compared to the pain in her leg following the sharp crackcrackcrack of an assault rifle.
The infected Marines can still fire their weapons, Omicron noted.
Carolina and Sota crashed to the ground, skidding past Wash and Alaska. Carolina let go of Sota and Alaska caught him, while she crashed into the wall. The blast doors slid shut behind them, closing off the creatures. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, which faded when the other four noticed Carolina’s injuries.
“Oh, shit,”Alaska said. Her voice was still eerily calm. What, was she in shock?
“Sota?” Carolina asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Carolina tried to rise, but cursed when pain shot through her left leg. There were several bullet marks on both legs, but only four on the left had managed to penetrate her armour. ‘Only’ being used in a relative sense, of course.
“York,” she said. “Call a medical team.”