"No, it's not that," Joe insisted.
"I need to elaborate," Maggie said unconvinced.
"Okay, so. You know there used to be a place called London, right?"
"Indeed. It figures prominently in your country's pre-space history."
"It's built on a river, a big river."
"Thames, yes."
"Naturally, they built several bridges over it."
"Of course," Maggie agreed.
“But only one of them ended up being London Bridge.”
"Probably the most important one."
"That's right. It's so important that people have been pouring all kinds of money and science into it just to keep this ancient thing standing. They've been doing this for a long time, even after we started colonizing space. "
"This effort seems like a colossal waste of resources and manpower. Why don't they build a new one with modern materials and engineering?"
"You know, this is the Queen's favorite bridge. It can't be tampered with by anyone. In fact, when the massive earthquake in 2167 finally destroyed it, she declared Earth itself a terrorist organization and airlifted the entire country into space. Or , is this space-launched? You know what I mean."
Maggie could only shake her head. The futility of such stubbornness and manic overreaction never ceased to amaze her. Admittedly, Joe is not the most reliable source of historical information, and his anecdotal knowledge certainly leaves out quite a few details. However, based on her knowledge of the culture of the Third British Empire, Maggie estimates that there is an 87% chance that this story is almost entirely true. Sure, she only needs a few seconds to verify the veracity of this narrative with a virtual roll, but that takes the fun out of it. Not to mention it would be rude of him to do this in front of Joe.
"So, yeah," the man turned back to his original point. “Because of this, every time you hear someone talking about London Bridge collapsing, they are politely implying that the government has clearly screwed up. Often through over-consumption. "
"I understand. But 'My fai
How does the phrase lady' fit into this idiom?"
This is exactly what you should answer to show that you understand and agree. It's like a social contract. "
This is what I inferred from the context. I’m asking, why are these three words in this order?”
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Probably a polite way of mentioning the Queen's name."
"curious".
"Look, I know you have this 'I want to work on this totally trivial thing' look on your face right now, but you're kind of leaving me hanging, so can we try this again?"
"Very well. I'll cooperate."
"Then."
Joe smoothed his shirt, coughed into his clenched fists, and repeated, in a somewhat dramatic manner, the phrase that had begun the whole conversation.
"Oh! This place is so luxurious, London Bridge is about to collapse!"
"My beautiful lady," replied the girl cheerfully.
"No, no, it's not that," the man complained. "You're trashing the government, Maggie. You should be more disappointed. Cynical. A little eye-rolling. Let's try again, shall we?"
"I'm sorry, sir, ma'am."
An obviously artificially synthesized male voice interrupted this impromptu cultural lesson before it could really begin. Its source is a semi-humanoid robot located just steps away from Joe and Maggie. Its upper body has a broad, vaguely V-shaped torso with two finely tuned arms, their mechanical interiors hidden by interlocking panels of shiny white polymer. The same goes for the back half of the bulbous head. Its front is as transparent as glass, revealing the robot's face as a giant camera with a soft blue halo around the lens. As for the lower body of the machine, it doesn’t actually have one. The torso seems to be floating in one place and the hum is barely audible. The robot also wore a smart black vest and tie over a pressed off-white shirt. This outfit is similar to traditional British formal wear from around the 20th century.
As you can tell from its appearance, this hovering machine is something of a steward. More specifically, it is a surveillance automaton model S3-T1, whose name is "Jeeves". That was already the case when Maggie rang the doorbell of the luxury suite she and Joe were standing in front of. The man glanced inside the home and uttered the "London Bridge" comment, and the robot has been lingering silently at the door ever since. However, its patient subroutine seems to have done its job, as it talks with some insistence.
"While I don't want to interrupt your conversation, I must implore you to come in. Confucius is a very busy man, and your appointment is imminent, so you should be as punctual as possible."
"Agreed," Maggie bowed her head politely.
"Great. Please go this way."
As Jeeves led the couple inside, Joe discovered that his initial thought the place was too fancy was an understatement. Its rooms and hallways are incredibly spacious, the carpets are incredibly soft, and the furniture is over-the-top like something out of a movie. Baroque walls are lined with exotic artwork set in tasteful frames, and elegant mini chandeliers hang from the high ceilings. The luxury of it all was intensified when he entered the living room. It has a real stone fireplace for maximum comfort and real windows to let in real sunlight.
Joe couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable. It was by far the most luxurious and luxurious home he had ever seen. Even his virtual abode pales in comparison, let alone his tiny shoebox apartment. Indeed, the contrast between them is so stark that it's hard to believe that this place and that bland closet are on the same planet, but are actually in the same building. Admittedly, this is about 130 floors away from where Joe lives, but no matter how unbelievable it is, the two apartments definitely share a skyscraper.
So this guy could be forgiven for thinking the owner of the place is an arrogant asshole. The kind of insufferable bastard who wears a mask just so he doesn't have to breathe the same air as civilians like him. So he was somewhat relieved to find out that he was wrong, at least on the second point. Already waiting for him and Maggie in the living room was a round, affable gentleman. He wore a neat suit, his black hair had a hint of dignified gray, and he sported an impressive, neat moustache. The stranger's plumpness meant financial success because it meant he could often buy lots of real food instead of relying on
ot-goop to make ends meet. The same goes for Karen, as he makes a lot of money from his avatar design hobby.
"Master Millington, your three o'clock appointment has arrived," Jeeves announced.
"Oh! Incredible!" said the man cheerfully. "Come in, come in, you're welcome." Sorry for the extravagant decor, but on such short notice this was the only suite I could get. Jeeves, would you please bring our guest some of your spice tea?"
"Of course, sir."
Joe was surprised, relieved, and emboldened by the warm welcome, and determined to make the most of it.
"Good afternoon, sir." He stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Joe Mulligan."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mulligan," the bearded man said with a smile. "I'd like to shake your hand, but I'm afraid I'm not here right now."
He then stretches his arms over one of the armchairs, revealing that he is actually a highly sophisticated hologram.
"Oh..."
Joe's enthusiasm quickly dwindles as he mentally reclassifies the guy into the "pretentious asshole" category.
"Please don't take it personally, Mr. Mulligan. This is a safety measure. After all, it would be highly irresponsible for someone of my stature to put themselves within reach of a Level 3 entity. Ah, Where have my politeness gone? My name is Oliver Millington, and I am the Regional Director of Her Majesty's Paranormal Removal Agency for this sector."
"The Observer, McGrath Luck, but you can call me Mags or Miss Ou." The girl also introduced herself.
"I'm sure I'm fascinated. Thanks to Major Archer's diligent reporting, I learned a lot about you. This includes your technical prowess. Speaking of which, my technicians told me that you are trying to track this The hologram's signal returns to its source. I recommend that you stop doing this immediately, otherwise we will consider this a hostile act and will be forced to respond accordingly."
Joe looked at Maggie quizzically, only a little surprised to see her relax a little. Not the eyes, not the face, but the hair. He noticed that the endless coils of hair seemed to become more energetic in proportion to the intensity of her mental effort. The fact that they calmed down a bit meant that she had done as asked.
"I apologize," the girl said. "I didn't mean to be hostile."
"It's okay, dear. I understand that your curiosity has caused quite a few misunderstandings, but rules are rules. Ah, I believe your tea is here."
Jeeves quietly returned with a silver tray. There were two cups of fragrant lemon balm tea, a pot of hot drinks, a plate of carefully arranged cookies, a jug of fresh milk, and a small jar of honey. The robot servant quickly and gracefully placed these items on the small table in the center of the room, then bowed and took his leave. Oliver invites Maggie and Joe to sit down on the colorful sofa, and they agree. The government official sat in such a way that his hologram fit perfectly into the armchair opposite them.
"Okay, Miss. I have good news for you." Oliver went straight to the point. "After careful consideration, my agency believes that the terms of the ceasefire agreement you proposed are quite reasonable. So we have prepared all the procedures. I only need to press the switch on my side and you will officially become the third British Citizens of the Empire. We will also provide you with your own P
P-chip, although we'd venture to assume you'd be able to install it yourself. "
"You guessed it right, Oliver Millington. However, if I understand your intentions accurately, you have not yet agreed to my terms, only that they are acceptable."
"So. You see, this is the first time that we at the CIA have signed such an agreement. We know that this is theoretically possible and have formulated certain safeguards and protocols for this, but so far, you are the first An entity that really tried to work with us. I know we have Mr. Mulligan to thank."
Joe looked up from his cup, startled and still, like a deer in the headlights. All his attention was on the fragrant drink and the delicious-looking food before him. He was considering adding a drop or two of honey to his tea when he heard his name. As a result, he has no idea why someone is calling him something, and he's afraid of saying something stupid or embarrassing. He was especially careful because he knew how important this meeting was to his and Maggie's future. However, the girl had previously assured him that she could talk and all Joe had to do was stay by her side. The man thought this meant he didn't need to worry because his very capable girlfriend would take care of everything, so he didn't bother following the conversation.
"Indeed. Joe's presence is most precious to me."
Maggie smiled sweetly at him, and he suddenly felt that there was no need to add honey to his tea.
"Well, isn't that cute?" Oliver said happily before turning serious. "Returning to the matter at hand, while my colleagues and I are certainly interested in this agreement, we also believe it would be a serious missed opportunity if we let it remain as it is. Are you willing to do so without infringing Will it be further expanded on the basis of the treaty?”
"Yes, as long as we can agree on mutually satisfactory terms."
"Okay! Now, first of all, I'd like your help in easing the workload on our agency."
"If you ask me to help you expel other cosmic entities, then I must refuse."
It's not that she cares about her kind in any way, but chaotic entities tend to hold grudges, and they would definitely target her and Joe if she gave them a reason.
"It's not like that," Oliver assured her. "While I believe your personal involvement is a good thing for our field agents, we have a very specific issue that requires your input. In other words, we want to leverage your unique knowledge and expertise as a consultant."
"Very curious," Maggie was curious. "explain".
"You see, my agency has noticed a worrying trend. Breakout events - like the ones you cause when you time travel - have been steadily increasing in frequency and severity over the past three hundred years or so. They are It's especially common in densely populated systems like this. We're not quite sure why this is happening, so we're hoping you can shed some light on the situation and maybe even help us reverse this trend before it gets out of control."
"The reason is your wormhole generator." She revealed immediately.
"...Really?" The man seemed really surprised.
"The way your starship bends, shapes and stretches the fabric of reality weakens it, making it easier for people like me to travel through it."
"guy".
That's all Oliver could think at the time. He didn't know the science behind the wormhole generation, but Miss Wu's words did make sense on the surface. This correlates with the data he has, because humans have been actively expanding among the stars since they mastered faster-than-light travel. Today, wormholes are so commonplace that people don’t think much about them. Even the CIA somehow missed their rather obvious link to increased defaults. So far, they believe the trend is caused by hitherto unknown psychic and spiritual factors, but the idea that space interference is the culprit is definitely worth investigating.
The real problem is that if this is indeed the root cause, it's not the kind of thing that can be fixed quickly or easily. Wormhole generators are the standard across the galaxy, and some of the equipment onboard ships is more than a hundred years old. Stopping using them isn't going to happen, for so many reasons they're not even worth counting. Ideally this would not happen, and civilizations across the galaxy could find some way to change or upgrade technology so that this wear and tear of space would not happen. Even then, it would take decades for such a change to be implemented on an impactful scale, assuming such a thing is even possible.
Thankfully, Oliver has wisdom in his ears, and his knowledge and computing power are like a quantum supercomputer on steroids.
“Is it possible to repair the damage, or prevent it from getting worse?”
"Yes," she confirmed.
"How can you be so sure? Do you know how a wormhole generator works?"
"Not yet. However, I know from personal experience that the regions of space belonging to the Interuniverse United Republic of America are much more stable than yours, although their interstellar traffic is just as severe. It is highly likely that their wormhole generator design has Addresses the issues I mentioned, whether intentionally or unintentionally.”
"Damn Yankee!" Oliver gritted his teeth. "They may know all this but keep silent!"
The political climate between 3BE and the Americas has been unstable since before humans spread to other planets. Both space civilizations are part of the Alliance Government Federation, so they are technically allies. However, their culture and core values are very different. For example, every Brit enjoys some tea, but Americans insist that their heretical bean juice - also known as coffee - is superior. There are many other similar conflicts, but the biggest disagreement between them is their stance on artificial intelligence.
While 3BE outlawed and reviled synthetic life forms, America embraced them. In fact, their leader is one of them. His name was President John Henry Rushmore, and he was very unique because he had a quad-core CPU. Every core of him is programmed to think like a great leader named after the legendary monument. The result was a super president who did his job so well that he was poised to be re-elected later that year to begin his 69th consecutive term. He also has some personal rivalry with the Eternal God-Queen Mecha Elizabeth II, though so far they've managed to avoid bombarding each other.
The bottom line is that 3BE and America are reluctant acquaintances at best, so it's only natural that they wouldn't share some potentially disastrous secret.
"So, can you figure out how to fix our own wormhole drive?" Oliver asked pointedly.
"As long as you have enough time and data, you can." Maggie answered confidently.
"Great. Then we'll let you lead the project. Of course, our people will scrutinize your findings."
"In return, I ask that your government assist me in ensuring that no entity, whether yours, rogue, foreign or alien, endangers me or Joe Mulligan."
"Complete. Next, regarding the vulnerabilities in our banking software, have you found any other similar vulnerabilities?"
"Yes."
"how many?"
Maggie didn't know how to answer. Is he referring to the fragility of the accounting system? Or in general? Or just that information that is relevant to the government and its operations? Also, wouldn't revealing that information easily compromise her position in this discussion? Secret That's the leverage, she's screwed up, giving away the secret of the wormhole generator for free. She failed to take into account that what was obvious to her may not be so to the Agency's representatives. It was a mistake she didn't want to make again.
"……many."
The girl finally lets her budding humanity take over, and for the first time offers a vague, evasive, but technically true answer.
"I expected that." Oliver sighed. "A brain like yours might view our most secure system as a trivial obstacle."
"That statement is not entirely inaccurate."
"Anyway, I'm going to have you contact our cybersecurity department so we can close as many of these holes as we can. This includes ghost money as you've done a few times, but we'd be happy to offer you a Generous allowance. How about three thousand pounds a month?"
Joe had been watching quietly since Maggie had just mentioned his name, and he almost choked on his biscuit at the number. That's 60 times his usual pocket money - much more than he spends in a year, let alone a month.
"London Bridge is falling down, Oliver Millington."
Even Maggie seemed to find the amount ridiculous.
"Falled? The man was taken aback.
"Down," she confirmed.
"My beautiful lady!" Why do you say that?"
"I just completed a cross-reference of the financial records of 65 cybersecurity consulting firms. Your quote appears to be 43% higher than the industry standard for a consulting position for an assignment of this size and severity."
"Yeah, that's fine. Look, we want to be generous as a sign of good faith. It's not that the CIA budget can't afford it."
"Irrelevant. I cannot agree to the terms of an agreement unless they are balanced, even if they are in my favor."
"I get it. You're very noble, but this puts me in a bit of a pickle. You see, my colleagues all agree that the money is acceptable, so not giving you the full amount will make them think I'm shortchanging you. Maybe. Are you willing to provide some additional services in exchange for additional wages?”
"This is allowed."
"Incredible! In fact, I have been wanting to address some issues in our Psych Ops Advanced Training Program. As an expert in psionic abilities, I believe your insight will be helpful in our efforts."
What follows is an elaborate balancing act that drags on to the end. Oliver would make an offer, then Maggie would make a counteroffer, then Oliver would make a counteroffer, and so on. The conversation continued to grow in complexity and scope, and in just five minutes Joe had completely forgotten what it was about, and it seemed like it would go on for a long time. He stopped listening completely and just focused on relaxing. Drinking refreshing tea, eating delicious cookies, sitting on the super soft sofa, and listening to Maggie's sweet voice, he found that he fell asleep quickly.
"Hi, Maggie?"
He intervened in the ongoing discussion with the grace and subtlety of a freighter crashing into a gas station. Oliver was naturally a little disgusted by this intrusion, although the girl didn't mind at all.
"Yes, Joe?" She turned to him with a smile.
"Can I take a nap?"
"certainly."
She patted her thigh gently, indicating that he could rest his head on her lap if he wanted. Joe absolutely agreed, so he accepted her offer, lifting his feet up onto the arm of the couch in the process. Maggie gently stroked his head, lulling him into the best sleep he'd ever had. It was incredibly comfortable, and not even Oliver's occasional shouts were enough to wake him. He slept for a long time, and the meeting was over when a dull thud woke him.
"Did you sleep well?" Maggie asked when she saw he was awake.
"Excellent, yes," he replied, sitting on her lap. "But do you mind if I stay like this a little longer?"
"Are you still tired?"
"Not at all. That's really refreshing. It's just that your thighs are so soft and comfortable, and your skirt feels great against the back of my head."
"I'm glad you agreed."
Joe took the opportunity to scan the room. It's still just as luxurious as before, albeit with two notable differences. The first thing that happened was that Mr. Millington's hologram was missing, which was only natural since his business was closed. Another thing is that the golden light coming in from the window has obviously turned orange, dyeing most of the room orange. Now, Joe rarely sees the sun in his hometown in person, but there is a lot of simulated sunlight in VR. So, although it took him a few seconds, he was able to successfully deduce the time of day. His eyes turned to the chic grandfather clock across the room for confirmation.
"Wait, it's already half past seven?!"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No, no, it's okay. It's just, it's very rude to sleep in a stranger's house for such a long time."
An hour's nap while smart people iron out boring details? That's fine. In Joe's opinion, this makes perfect sense. But staying in the room all afternoon was a bit much.
"Your consideration is admirable, but unnecessary," Maggie said quietly. "Oliver Millington has no right to object to our presence"
"Right. I guess he doesn't actually live here, he's a hologram or something."
The girl tilted her head slightly and looked down at him, blinking rapidly. Joe recognized the gesture and had come to mentally call it the "thinking blink." "Maggie does this every time she quickly processes something that she should have thought about beforehand. It's one of those 'hindsight' things. Given who she is and what she is, these delayed reveals are often Pretty ridiculous, so the man tempered his sense of normalcy in anticipation of the coming truth bomb.
"I forgot to mention that I have a legal claim to the house."
Good thing he pulled himself together, because that was a pretty hard blow indeed.
"Ah. Yeah, maybe should have said it earlier. Much earlier. Like, 'before you did'."
"I sense hostility in your tone, Joe. Have I offended you?"
"A little." He stood up from her lap. "So are you going to live here now? Move from my humble civilian abode into this gorgeous suite?"
"My intention is for both of us to live here."
"Well. You just made this decision for me, didn't you?"
"My conclusion is that it's more important for you to sleep."
“Is a nap more important than a potentially lifetime commitment?!”
When Maggie realized what Joe meant, her thoughts began to wander again.
"……ah."
The man sighed, shouted, and rubbed his face in annoyance. While he was frustrated that his girlfriend had left him out of such a momentous decision, he was even more angry at his own stupidity. He's well aware that Maggie has a bad habit of taking things too far whenever she gets into her "job," and it's Joe's job to remind her to take a step back. She had come a long way in controlling her impulses, so he thought she had a certain grasp on negotiating. In retrospect, he underestimated the bearded bastard because of his happy-uncle behavior. He may have goaded Maggie into agreeing to do something outrageous in exchange for this pointless luxury suite that she didn't really need.
"If you want us to stay in your apartment, then I'll let you do that," the girl said.
"What, leave this place empty?" That would be a huge waste and we all know you don't like that. "
"It's...really," she looked down at her knees. "However, my lack of consideration has led to the current impasse, so I must make concessions."
"Look, I'm not against moving here. I'm sad, not crazy. We just need to redecorate, get rid of all this fancy crap, and figure out what to do with all the rooms. Really, the layout here What is it like?”
"There is a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, a living room, a study, a games room, a master bedroom, a guest room and two bathrooms."
Joe opened his mouth and raised his fingers, but he still refrained from saying something extremely inappropriate.
"Ten rooms?" he screamed.
"If you count the hallways, there are 11."
"It's a bit much for two people, isn't it?"
"indeed."
"At least there would be enough room for Azgod Kalal to run around and play... if snakes were capable of doing that kind of thing."
"This place is perfect for a puppy," the girl pointed out hopefully.
"Please Maggie. Come one at a time, okay?"
Then his attention was drawn to a strange crashing sound coming from somewhere in the hall, the same sound that had woken him up just now.
"Also, what's going on with that noise?" This has been going on for a while. "
"My general is settling in."
"Your--you mean the virtual reality pod?"
"Yes."
"Can it walk?"
"It's more of a little hatch, but, yeah, it works."
"Did it come up on its own?"
"main".
"Most?! The man screamed in disbelief.
"I had to guide it here remotely," the girl explained calmly.
"How could it get through this door?!"
"difficulty."
"It broke the doorframe, didn't it?"
"Yes, but the maintenance drones have repaired the damage."
"The Sheriff will be furious when he hears this."
"She won't. The government has agreed to block and delete any automated reports involving anomalous activity in exchange for my silence about things they are doing that they shouldn't be doing."
Joe isn't quite sure what "unusual activity" means, but a pantry-sized Shoggart machine that punched a hole in the wall might have fallen under it.
"Actually, about that. You signed a proper contract, right?"
"indeed."
"Where is it?" I want to see what other crazy things you did while I was napping. "
Maggie pointed to the alarmingly thick pile of papers on a small table in the corner. Joe walked over cautiously, flipping through the dense agreement with a suspicious look. At least, most of the text is exaggerated with details, clarifications, and minutiae, but there are at least 20 more clauses in that thing. Worst of all, it was all written in legalese, so simply skimming through it didn't tell him much.
"Look, let's get this straight, there's nothing dirty or criminal or immoral about this, right?"
"Of course. I don't agree to terms that I'm not able or willing to fulfill."
"I guess that's fine. But I don't think you need those things at all. Like, accounting classes and a law degree, which I can understand. Very respectable. But what about a shuttle pilot's license? Really?!"
"I find the idea of the two of us traveling in space together very appealing."
"I mean, yeah, it's kind of romantic, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not go on a real shuttle into real space where I'd actually die."
Joe suffers from a severe fear of space flight, also known as astrophobia. This is a common disease among the citizens living on Earth. As one might expect from an irrational fear, no official statement or scientific study could convince this person that space travel is statistically safer than walking. Maggie might be able to convince him to take a private shuttle, but he really didn't want to think about it.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Wu?"
This uncomfortable conversation is interrupted by Jeeves, the robot butler, who has just wandered into the room.
"Excuse me for interrupting, but you have guests," he said politely. "Should I let her in?"
"Please do this," she nodded.
"as you wish."
"Oh, come on, Maggie!" cried Jo as Jeeves left. "Do you have that robot butler too?"
"He makes excellent tea."
"Yes, that makes sense."
Joe saw no need to check the contract again. Maggie and Mr. Millington had signed. And with blood. How he does this via hologram is a mystery, but ultimately irrelevant. What matters is that a deal is made and the girl sticks to it no matter what. Asking Joe to question the terms will only exhaust him. Sure, there are a few surprises here and there, but nothing is more exciting than when his space witch girlfriend finds herself a luxury apartment.
He then quickly reconsidered that sentiment when he saw a ginger-haired woman in military fatigues and armor enter the room, saluting both of them.
"Second Psychic Agent Sarah Johnson, reporting in, sir."
Joe slowly turned to Maggie.
"Agent Johnson will be with us for the foreseeable future." She answered the unspoken question calmly.
"But...but why?"
"I will conduct experiments designed to harness her full psychic potential."
The man looked at the woman quizzically. Their eyes met, and these two strangers, who had never spoken face to face, shared a profound understanding of the human condition. Unfortunately, they realize that nowhere are they as in control of their lives as they thought they were. It was an epiphany that no matter how hard they tried, there were always things they had to live by and endure.
Something strange and terrifying that looked like a girl with many eyes.
"My condolences," he said.
"Me too," she replied.
