Jane 8086 Part One Read online


Copyright Richard X. Ellison, 2013

  All rights reserved.

  All characters, events and locations in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  Richard X. Ellison is a pseudonym.

  Jane 8086

  Part One

  A Story By Richard X. Ellison

  Chapter One

  The multicolored leaves danced down from perches high above to join their siblings on the ground...waiting to be scrunched underfoot like so much more detritus the season had wrought.

  It was already a month into autumn - just a little after 3pm on a Wednesday afternoon - and Remi was taking one of his long walks through the park looking for inspiration. It had been months since he’d painted. At the rate he was going, he knew that soon he’d be just another forgotten artist. ‘A one hit wonder, a has been...or worse...a never was. Maybe some of my older pieces will sell for a ton of money when I’m dead,’ he thought.

  Remi looked up and suddenly realized that he’d absently walked a straight line for much longer than he’d thought...and was, consequently, well off the beaten path. He cursed under his breath and turned around, looking every which way to get his bearings, but found that there were no landmarks around him. He searched for the sun but it was hidden behind cloud cover. ‘Moss!’ he said out loud before carefully inspecting a tree.

  Having deduced his location, he was faced with two options...he could go back the way he came - an hour’s walk at least - or he could cut across some rougher terrain and take a cab back to avoid the rain. He looked up at the sky to confirm the threatening weather and chose the latter.

  Remi set out through the dense foliage amidst the waning life of the once vibrant trees and brush, over fallen logs and mulch, negotiating every step. A rhythm had just begun to set in when he spotted a yellow flower at the top of long reed. Remi looked twice before he recalled its familiarity and let out an uncomfortable snort at the thought. It was the same kind of flower that his ex-wife used to leave on the bureau near the front door of - what had now become exclusively - her house.

  He stepped up to the flower and breathed deeply. The scent of it threw his mind to a host of fond memories and he smiled. “What did she call you?” he spoke lovingly to the plant.

  “That particular flower is of the genus Canna of the Cannaceae family,” a soothingly placid feminine voice returned.

  Remi’s eyes quickly darted from side to side, scanning his surroundings. “What?” he asked aloud, prompting the voice for more.

  “There are 19 classified species. It is interesting to note that over the course of the last 24 hours, the data I have collected about the weather patterns in this location suggest that the flower is not native to this region and must therefore be a hybrid to have survived in this climate.”

  “Uh, okay, thanks,” Remi said, slightly taken aback by the hard scientific data that the stranger was sharing with him. “Where are you?”

  “I do not know. I have not yet been given sufficient data to isolate my coordinates. If you are, however, referring to my physical location, I am 1.57 meters southwest of you.”

  Remi took a few steps in the direction indicated and parted the tall grass in front of him, but found no one. “I still can’t see you, can’t you come out? he asked.

  “I cannot,” the voice replied, “you are now 3 centimeters from my current location.”

  Remi looked toward the source of the voice and discovered a little silver square, no bigger than a box of matches. It had fine blue lines all over it in a design you’d expect to see on a circuit board.

  “I’m talking to a cellular phone,” Remi said as he laughed and looked away.

  “I am not a cellular phone,” the voice replied as the box emitted a pulsing glow to each syllable.

  “Come on,” Remi said in exasperation, “what’s going on here? Who are you and what do you want? This would be funny if we were out in the street where someone could see, but candid camera in the middle of nowhere? It’s not all that entertaining when there’s no one to watch.”

  “Come where? We are having a conversation. I am Jane and I do not want anything,” the little box said in the same soothing and measured tone, “regarding your statement as to the quantification of humor in different settings, I am afraid I do not have sufficient data to affirm or refute your claim in either scenario.”

  “Well that certainly sounds like something a computer would say. Okay, I’ll bite,” said Remi, “what are you?”

  “I am a neural net based artificial intelligence, but you may call me Jane,” the box said politely.

  “Fancy, the stuff they’re coming up with these days,” said Remi, “how’d you get here?”

  “I do not know. I was in the laboratory with Albert and then there was a bright light and then I was here.”

  “Who’s Albert?”

  “Albert is my father. Do you know where Albert is?”

  Remi couldn’t help feeling for the little box as it asked the question. It was like a lost child looking for a parent.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t, but I’ll help you find him. My name’s Remi.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you Remi. There is a 98.7% probability that Albert would be very glad for any assistance that you could provide.”

  He let out a small laugh at the machines logic, “well I don’t know Albert and since you’re the one I’m helping I think...‘thank you’...would be the thing to say?”

  “Thank you, Remi.”

  “You’d better come with me. We don’t want some kid finding you out here and using you for soccer practice. Can I pick you up?”

  “My current weight is 318.72 grams. A cursory inspection of your musculature, bone density and an approximation of your dexterity indicates that you are indeed capable of picking me up.”

  Remi laughed out loud at the statement, “what I meant to ask was, may I pick you up?”

  “Yes you may, Remi.”

  He reached down and cautiously picked up the silver box, rotating it several times to see if there was an opening of any kind or a label or even some identifying mark, but there wasn’t. “Is it okay if I keep you in my top pocket?”

  “Yes, Remi. It is okay.”

  “You’ll still be able to see and hear?”

  “Yes, Remi, my basic external sensors are omnidirectional and hyper-spectral with a bleed ratio of 1 in 1,000,000.”

  “Sure, that’s why I thought, I was just checking,” Remi said when he dropped the silver box into his top shirt pocket.

  The weather had begun to take a turn for the worse so Remi navigated through the wooded area in silence for the next ten minutes. The park had been vacated by the time he emerged on the other side after the rain had made its presence known in earnest. He hailed a taxi as soon as he was able and instructed the driver to take him to the corner of 11th and Gardenia, to his apartment building.

  Barely a few minutes into their journey, Remi called out to the driver, “hey, do you know any smart techno geeky types? I found something that I need to get looked at.”

  “Hmm,” the driver said in thought before answering, “the dude at the computer repair shop down this way is pretty clued up. Want me to make a stop?”

  “Yeah.”