2013.05.14 - Queries

It's in the afternoon, and Gotham Museum has a new visitor...not that any of the officials know it yet. Oh, they may have seen the oddly-dressed youth outside, but though he approached the door, he didn't actually enter. Perhaps it was the security guard looking his way, or perhaps the concerned look of one of the staff members at the front desk, but the kid turned and walked away from the doors after a moment or two peering through. He walked away...and now, only a short minute or two later, he's stepping out of one of the bathrooms a short way into the museum. Having so evaded security and notice from the museum staff (though one poor guy in the bathroom /was/ probably a bit surprised by that strange flash and the sucking sound that accompanied it), he now stands in front of one of the maps of the museum, staring at it expressionlessly.

Barbara Gordon has spent the last 72 hours concentrating almost exclusively on the kidnapping of Shelby Knox. And, in fact, she does begrudge taking time out for a break. The real problem, however, is that she needs a fresh perspective on the case. So, she's not so much taking a break as she is taking a walk. Or, in her case, a roll. She thinks well at the museum. The alternate environment of the museum, with its concentration on the past instead of the future, is sometimes exactly what the technomaven needs to re-center and ground herself, better enabling her to focus once more. Emerging from the Antiquities section, she rolls slowly toward the map where the oddly garbed boy stands. Her palms scrape the wheels, slowing them further, as she draws near.

The strange kid keeps on looking at the map, one hand raising to point a finger at the "you are here" mark and then move over towards the marking for science and technology, following along the halls and doors between the two points. As Barbara approaches in her chair, he pauses, and slowly looks over--otherwise still standing there with one hand pointing at the map. Staaaaaare. He's just standing there, holding that pose, eyes studying her, but mostly the chair.

The funny thing about being in a wheelchair, Barbara's come to learn, is that one of two things tend to happen. Either people are afraid to meet your gaze, having been taught not to stare, and so their eyes simply skate past you entirely, or they (particularly children) stare entirely unrepentantly with open curiosity, and possibly a mixture of pity or sympathy (neither of which Barbara accepts with any hint of grace), at what they see. The only happy medium she's ever found is either with people that know her very well, or with those who share her limitations.

So, the most remarkable thing about the boy's stare isn't so much that it's happening, as it is the fact he's almost devoid of emotion as he does so. Well, that and the fact it's fairly obvious his attention is on the chair. The most notable thing about it? It has no handles. If he's seen other wheelchairs at all, he's probably seen they all have handles on the back. Barbara's doesn't. By choice.

The woman meets the boy's gaze, judging his age to be late-pre-teen/early-teen and usually past the staring phase most children go through. Thus, she gives a faint smile. "Can I help you?" she asks presently.

157 finally drops his hand. A pause, and he takes a step forward to bend down and--with clear effort--pick up an old, somewhat battered book that's lying on the ground by the map. It...probably /used/ to be an antique of at least /some/ value, but it shows lots of signs of being dropped or battered in general, and water damage besides. He holds it to him with both hands, and quietly walks over towards her, looking down at the wheels of the chair. "Query: Can I help you? Answer: Explanation required: Purpose of addition of large objects designated 'wheels' to object designated 'chair'."

Barbara cants her head subtly at the phrasing the boy uses. She's not quite certain if the kid's putting her on or is perhaps autistic in some fashion. It would explain both his phrasing and his intense concentration. "Mobility," she replies. Note she doesn't talk down to the child. "My back was injured, so my legs don't work any more. The wheels on the chair allow me to move under my own power." Her eyes tighten a little and her voice remains neutral as she mentions the injury specifically, but she doesn't otherwise display any discomfort about discussing it. Curiously: "Have you never seen a wheelchair, before?"

"Understood. Subject received injury and requires aid of tool for motion." If he notices Barbara's discomfort, the boy doesn't react to it. "Query: Have you never seen a wheelchair, before? Answer: Negative. This unit has not seen a 'wheel-chair' before. Clarification: This unit has seen objects of similar purpose to wheel-chair. However, objects had differing design. Examples: Four-legged platform. Platform carried by servants. Platform equipped with anti-gravitational generators. Variants: Personal telekinetic enhancer. Artificial legs."

Barbara's eyes narrow, now. She leans forward slightly, a forearm on one rest of the chair, her palm on the other, that arm akimbo. "What's your name?" she asks him, now. She glances briefly about the area. "Do you have parents here?" It occurs to her that it's also possible the kid could be some sort of synthetic platform, but she has no clear evidence of that, either. It has more to do with the fact she's seen a lot of strange crap over the years. That wouldn't be the strangest. Just the latest.

"Query: What is your name?" The boy finally returns his attention to her instead of the chair. "Answer: Unit identification Yeweseisisel. Current language usage: English. English translation: One-Hundred and Fifty-Seven. Unit will also respond to variants. Examples: One-Hundred Fifty Seven. One-Five-Seven. Hundred-Fifty-Seven. This unit will also respond to identifications 'kid', 'young man', and 'hun'. Query: Do you have parents here? Probable meaning: Are superiors present? Answer: This unit is not accompanied by superiors at this time."

"Yeweseisisel." There have been smoother attempts at pronouncing the name, but Barbara doesn't totally mangle it. "Will you accept Yew?" she suggests after a moment. "Or Yewes?" Frankly, she could anglicize it to Hugh, but she doesn't. Yet, anyway.

Pursing her lips slightly, the woman continues to analyze the boy. Ultimately, she decides it may be easier to speak to him as he's speaking. If anyone understands computer program speak, it's her. "Query, 157," she says, now. "What is your point of origin? Second query: What is your primary function?"

"Query: Will you accept 'Yew'? Or "Yewes?" This unit will respond to variants of Yeweseisisel. Variants suggested are valid." 157 returns his attention to the chair, reaching out with one hand to touch a wheel...which means that the big, heavy book isn't properly supported and just about immediately slips out and falls to the ground with a thud. That explains all the damage it seems to have taken. The boy doesn't react, though. "Request: Demonstrate means of operation of object designated 'wheel-chair.'" He takes a step back, leaving the fallen book where it is for the moment, and watches her. "Query: What is your point of origin. Error: Subject not recognized as authorized. Access denied. Query: What is your primary function? Answer: This unit is an observation and information retrieval unit created by access denied. This unit was sent by access denied to planet designated 'Earth' to observe."

Barbara's eyes dart to the book as it hits the ground. She winces. She's a librarian. Books are valuable, to her. He asks for a designation, and, obligingly (if unintentionally), she wheels forward toward the book, pushing the wheels with her hands. She pushes and pulls the wheels to turn them, bending forward to retrieve the book and set it on her lap. Turning the wheels again, she moves toward the adolescent construct. "You dropped your book," she tells him, picking it up and handing it to him. "You should be more careful with it." Librarian. She can't help it.

All those 'access denied' responses, however, catch her attention. "Query, Yewes: Who has the required authorization to access full responses from you? Secondarily, how long ago were you sent to Earth?"

If it helps, 157 isn't maliciously mistreating the poor book (which looks, actually, to be a late 1800s educational atlas of pretty notable size). It's just too big and heavy for a kid on the small side to carry very well, and...well, he doesn't seem to care enough about it to think about that often. He takes the book, holding it with both arms again. "Query: Who has the required authorization to access full responses from you? Answer: Recognized superiors have full access. Full list of recognized superiors unavailable at current authorization level. Access denied. Query: How long ago were you sent to Earth? Answer: This unit was sent to planet designated 'Earth' 52 days, 4 hours, and 23 minutes ago. This unit arrived on planet designated 'Earth' 51 days, 16 hours, and 10 minutes ago."

Once 157 takes the book from her, Barbara places her hands in her lap. Eidetic memory. She does a quick calculation. It took him roughly 12 and a quarter hours to get here from... wherever. "Query: What was the manner of your conveyance to Earth?" she asks now. "At what speed did you travel?"

There are further related queries she considers, but she starts with those.

"Query: What was the manner of your conveyance to Earth?" 157 repeats, and his gaze returns to the chair for a few moments before he looks to her once more. "Answer: This unit utilized space-time manipulation to connect planet designated 'Earth' with access denied. Query: At what speed did you travel? Answer: Approximate speed 1 mile per hour or less. Clarification: This unit walked." And as though by means of demonstration, he turns and takes a few steps, moving at the same pace as ever--which is to say, quite slowly. He never seems to be in a hurry in any kind of motion.

Barbara considers that. Space-time manipulation to connect with planet Earth. And the kid walked for 12 hours. So, theoretically 'access denied', in this case, may in fact refer an Einstein-Rosen bridge, of a sort. A wormhole, essentially. A 12 mile wormhole, more or less. "Okay," she says, her expression pensive still. "Was your point of origin in the Milky Way galaxy? Secondary: Was your point of origin in this reality, or was it in a parallel or alternate reality? Or perhaps a past or future time period?"

"Query: Was your point of origin in the Milky Way galaxy? Error: This unit is unfamiliar with the designation 'Milky Way galaxy'. Probable meaning: Current galaxy. Answer: Affirmative. Query: Was your point of origin in this reality, or was it in a parallel or alternate reality? Or perhaps a past of future time period? Answer: This unit's point of origin was in this reality and this time period." 157 pauses for a long moment. "Clarification: This unit is not capable of travel to alternative dimensions. This unit is not capable of 'time travel'."

"Query: Are you able to confirm in any way how the space-time continuum figures into your arrival, or is that information restricted? If the information is unrestricted, please elaborate." No doubt any passers by -- not that there are any of them to speak of, but still -- no doubt they would consider the woman's willingness to treat the child as if he were a computer strange. But, really, it seems to be the clearest way to get information from him -- even if it is odd information.

"Query: Are you able to confirm in any way how the space-time continuum figures into your arrival, or is that information restricted? Answer: Affirmative. This unit is capable of space-time manipulation to create a link between two points at any distance apart. Travel is instantaneous. However, construction of link requires calculations to account for disturbances and anamolies. Calculations increase in complexity based on intervening distance due to increased potential for disturbances and anamolies. Once calculations are performed, this unit inputs program code to cause temporary alteration to space-time." He wasn't walking for 12 hours, it seems...he was doing math and programming the universe for 12 hours and then walking for mere moments. "Clarification required: Does subject require demonstration of ability?"

Barbara listens carefully to what Yewes tells her. Interesting. "Yes, Yewes," she tells him. "I would like a demonstration." She glances around. "However, I suggest that we find an alternate location for such a demonstration so as not to attract the attention of outsiders who may not understand either the demonstration or the motivation behind that." The question is, where to take him. "Will you accompany me elsewhere?"

It's clearly fortunate she said that, as 157 had just opened his mouth to start speaking...and based on timing, it's likely it wasn't going to be just another part of their question and answer session. He stands there kind of awkwardly with his mouth open for a few moments, then finally shuts it. Another few moments, and he replies. "Query: Will you accompany me elsewhere. Answer: Affirmative. Alert: Attempts to damage or capture this unit will require defensive response from this unit. Possibility exists that response would negatively impact continued function of female."

Did he just threaten to kill her? Barbara arches a brow. "I have no intention of kidnapping you, Yewes, or otherwise harming you. That would be counterproductive." If anything, she's trying to build trust -- not that she's sure a computer intelligence can build trust as she thinks of it. The best she can hope is that its probability matrix decides she is more likely to act in a forthright and truthful manner than not. Most of the time.

Regardless, she starts wheeling toward the exit, now, considering just where might be an appropriate place to take him. It will need to be some place low on cameras. Fortunately, very few people in this city know the surveillance grid better than she. And which satellites are passing overhead? "There's a park this way," she tells him as they hit the outside, turning her chair. "It's small, but there will be fewer people there at this hour and you should attract less attention."

As she leads him there, she makes another query. "Yewes, have you considered that, in general, attracting attention for being unusual may be counterproductive to your observational function?" A beat. She frowns pensively, wheeling now onto a paved pathway into the parkette, heading off it shortly toward a shady grove. "Yewes... are you a synthetic or biological construct?"

If it helps, it sounded like less of a threat and more like one of those warning boxes that pops up on your computer...just alerting her to the possibility, if certain actions were taken. 157 follows after her, still not moving in any kind of hurry. He seems to only have one speed. "Query: Have you considered that, in general, attracting attention for being unusual may be counterproductive to your observational function. Answer: This unit's observational senses will function whether others notice this unit or not. However, this unit has observed responses to presence of this unit from security forces and other authorities. Analysis: This unit attracts attention. However, this attention has not yet caused significant interference with this unit's mission." He actually trips momentarily as they move into the park, but manages to right himself, and continues. "Query: Are you a synthetic or biological construct. Answer: This unit is biological."

Still more information than she had before. Barbara won't quibble. She pushes harder on her wheels as they cross grass rather than pavement. The ground is uneven and the chair isn't as reliable on the softer soil as it is on concrete. But she has formidable upper-body strength for a woman of her age and physical situation. So, it's not a great hardship to her.

"Are you human, Yewes?" That's the real question, isn't it? She glances around, as they reach the stand of trees she picked out. "This should do, for a place to demonstrate your abilities, I believe. Is it suitable in your opinion?"

It's actually worse for 157 than it is for her...the kid seems pretty hopelessly uncoordinated, and the uneven ground leads to several more near-falls. Still, he makes it to the trees. "Query: Are you human? Answer: Unknown. Analysis: This unit's appearance is similar to appearance of species designated 'human'. High probability that this unit is human." He looks around at the area, and then returns his gaze to her. "Query: Is it suitable in your opinion? Analysis: Subject's stated objective: locate area with few people in which demonstration will attract less attention. Area possesses few people and demonstration will attract less attention. Should attention be attracted, ability demonstration will provide path for escape before approach of nearby entities. Area matches criteria laid out by subject."

Well, alrighty then. He's potentially human. A DNA test could determine it, easily enough -- if he were willing to take the test. For now, Barbara doesn't push it. Instead, she files away the information she needs to start a trace on him. "How old are you, Yewes? Earth-relative time tracking system." She leans back some in her chair. "If you're satisfied with this area, I am. Feel free to demonstrate."

"Query: How old are you? Answer: Accurate response impossible. This unit does not have knowledge of precise date and time of creation. Estimation: Thirteen years old." 157 looks about the area once more, and returns his gaze to her. "It is not necessary for this unit to be satisfied." He turns aside, and then starts speaking. In contrast to his normal slow, deliberate pace, this is...rapid. It's also a heck of a lot harder to understand, as he's switching back and forth between at least two different languages. She can recognize numbers in there, some mathematical functions, maybe...but then it's gobbledygook delivered at a fast pace. One thing of note, though: it sure /sounds/ a lot like if someone was actually reading off computer programming code. After a few moments of this, there's a flash and a strange sort of sucking sound...and then what can only be described as a hole in reality is sitting before them. The exit...it looks to be elsewhere in the park. Actually...it looks to be behind one of the trees nearby, as demonstrated when 157 steps through the portal, and then walks around from behind one of the trees, staring towards Barbara. The portal remains open, for the moment.

Barbara would love to get a recording of that little speech an analyze it, break it down and attempt to work out the equations. That he's effectively using programming language isn't lost on her. She looks at the portal, and watches him eventually return from behind a tree. "Neat trick," she says, a brow arching. So, she wasn't far off with the idea of an Einstein-Rosen bridge. Wormhole.

"Yewes, who are your superiors? Are they here on Earth? If not, are the coming?"

157 walks over--still unsteady on the uneven ground--and the portal closes up as he reaches her. "Query: Who are your superiors? Error: Subject not recognized as authorized. Access denied. Query: Are they here on earth? Answer: Unknown. This unit does not have information regarding present location of superiors. Query: Are they coming? Answer: Unknown. This unit does not have information on current objectives of superiors." Pause. "Confirmation required: Was demonstration sufficient to fulfill objectives of subject?"

Barbara nods, now. "Yes. The demonstration was sufficient." A beat. Never know if you don't ask. "How is it you actually effect the manipulation of these portals? Are your abilities limited to creating and controlling these portals or do the extend in other ways?"

"Query: How is it you actually effect the manipulation of these portals? Answer: This unit is capable of comprehension of the universe to a heightened extent. This unit can understand positioning information and manipulate that information by utilizing skill taught by access denied. In effect, this unit establishes a link between two distant points and temporarily allows them to exist adjacent to each other despite distance. Example: Area A is here. Area B is 50 miles from position 1. This unit establishes that Area A is immediately adjacent to Area B by replacing data in the universe. Universe resets after a short duration. However, until reset, travel is possible," 157 says. "Query: Are your abilities limited to creating and controlling these portals or do they extend in other ways? Answer: This unit is also capable of manipulation of this unit's immediate environment. This unit is also capable of manipulation of this unit's appearance."

Okay. That's also interesting. Effectively, then, the kid is using some sort of quantum manipulation of space-time to alter reality. Barbara may have to read up on that. Though, truthfully, she has more pressing concerns, at the moment. "Where do you shelter, Yewes," she asks, now. "Do you have some place safe to stay, with suitable regular nutrition?" She's not at all comfortable with the idea of taking him home. In fact, given the secrets her home houses, that would be a Really Bad Idea. But, she does need to know that he's more or less looked after. Thirteen years old, robotic conditioning, and what are essentially meta abilities. Maybe she should have Oracle tap Mr. Fantastic on the shoulder. (Because Tony Stark doesn't strike her as the fatherly type. Then again... is Reed? Perhaps she should just speak to Superman, instead.)

It /does/ seem like kind of a bad idea to take a self-confessed alien observation drone into your house when you store secrets on...kind of everybody and everything, doesn't it? "Query: Where do you shelter? Do you have some safe place to stay, with suitable regular nutrition? Probable meaning: Does this unit have a base of operations and means of acquiring energy sources? Answer: It is not necessary for this unit to have a base of operations. Answer: This unit is capable of locating and acquiring energy sources designated 'food'. This unit has also located resource used for provision of energy sources designated 'food'. Identification: Fern."

Translation: Yeah. He's got a place to stay and someone to take care of him. Good start. It means Barbara doesn't have to feel guilty about abandoning him. "Good," she replies. "I'm glad to hear it." She inhales a slow breath, considering her options. "Yewes, I have to go. But, I would be interested in speaking with you again, sometime soon. Would that be acceptable to you?"

"Query: I would be interested in speaking with you again, sometime soon. Would that be acceptable to you? Answer: It is not necessary for that to be acceptable to this unit," 157 says. "Clarification: This unit will not oppose attempts by subject to contact this unit."

Well, that's something anyway. He won't seek her out, but he won't stop Barbara from seeking him out. Okay, then, one more round of questions before she goes. "This Fern, you mentioned. Where does she live? Do you know her full name? If so, please tell me."

"Query: This Fern you mentioned. Where does she live? Answer: Unknown. Subject designated 'Fern' was encountered at location for provision of energy sources, designation 'Anita Bella', type 'restaurant'. Query: Do you know her full name? Answer: Negative." It seems rather doubtful 157 could actually pay for food...this 'Fern' might be a kind employee, perhaps.

Certainly, it's something Barbara will look into, to be sure. She studies the boy's face and appearance for a moment longer. "Thanks," she says finally. Straightening in her chair, she adjusts her angle slightly, turning back toward the path, though she doesn't move just yet. "Thank you, Yewes," she says finally. "I hope we meet again. Take care of yourself." Given his abilities, she actually doesn't expect that will be a problem. "I need to go, now." A beat. "Good-bye, Yewes." Giving a strong push on her wheels, finally, she makes her way back to the path, heading for her van home.