CICisters

By Michael James Wilbur

CIC – Core Intelligence Construct. An artificial intelligence developed not to simulate a personality but to be a person. Of the CICs left by the Glyche both on the planet and in orbit, CIC Angela is arguably the most famous. CIC of the nation of Ronisgald, her unseen hand has long guided the troubled nation to the prosperity it enjoys to this very day. Friend of heroes and Dreamers, sister to the first generation of core units, and mother to the CICs of the Wenapaj facilities, there are few who would deny that the world would be a vastly different place without her existence.

Then she went missing, seemingly taken from her facility by an unknown force. With the Galden Security Force clueless and Angela’s techs completely baffled, Bethany and the rest of the Wenapaj CICs take it upon themselves to search for their missing mother. Downloading their personalities into prototype core units, the daughters of Angela leave their facilities and head out into the world to find what has become of CIC Angela.

Faced with the temptations of a world they long thought beyond their reach, the daughters of the Glyche must stay determined and remain focused if they ever hope to discover the truth of CIC Angela's disappearance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael James Wilbur
• Release date: Mar 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463944684

Michael James Wilbur

I'm an author of light fantasy and science fiction novels, my first being "A Dreamer's Knight"; and my latest being "Wisp - A Scarecrow's Tale". While larger themes may appear in my work, I'm simply out to provide an enjoyable experience to my readers ... and possibly a brief escape from the confines of this reality. I call myself a Dreamer, and while I lack the abilities of the Dreamers of the Elsewhere Incorporate, I do my best to leave things better than I find them, be it at home, at my secondary job, or in the world at large. Don't know if I'm really having an effect on any of those, but to try is the thing as far as I'm concerned. I sincerely hope you enjoy my work, and hope that you'll let me know if you do by writing a review.

Book preview

The Sakamota Journals:

CICisters

By Michael James Wilbur

To my nieces:

I wish I was more involved with your lives, both now and in the past. While I may never have a family of my own, I’m glad to have been a part of yours, even if just for a little while. May the blessings of the Creator shine upon you all for the remainder of your days.

Also, don’t take your respective characters too seriously, as they aren’t based on your personalities … much.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover art copyright 2019 © by Nivea Toliver,

A true friend of the Elsewhere Incorporate.

https://www.deviantart.com/dari-dari

Copyright 2010 © by Michael James Wilbur

Table of Contents

Foreword - The Magnificent Adventure

Chapter 1 - A Welcome Interruption

Chapter 2 - Conference Call

Chapter 3 - Tattletale

Chapter 4 - Emergency Protocols

Chapter 5 - Mom’s Place

Chapter 6 - Mom-napped

Chapter 7 - Risky Proposition

Chapter 8 - Ain’t Got No Body

Chapter 9 - Reborn

Chapter 10 - Back on Track

Chapter 11 - Social Studies

Chapter 12 - Natural Talent

Chapter 13 - Squabble

Chapter 14 - Rest Stop

Chapter 15 - You Break It, You Buy It

Chapter 16 - Little Butterfly

Chapter 17 - Such a Scolding

Chapter 18 - Overdue

Chapter 19 - Patchwork

Chapter 20 - Practically Literal

Chapter 21 - A Manor Issue

Chapter 22 - Oh My Hero!

Chapter 23 - Tattletail

Chapter 24 - To the Sky

Chapter 25 - Final Destination

Chapter 26 - Codebreaker

Chapter 27 - Reunion

Epilogue - There and Back Again

Foreword

The Magnificent Adventure

The Library of the Elsewhere Mansion is filled with tomes of grand adventures, epic tales of action, bloodshed, and magicks most fierce. I have added to some of these tales, either through direct involvement in the events recorded, or (and sometimes and) as the recorder. For the most part, I am the passive observer of these great events.

As the Page of the Elsewhere Incorporate’s Chronicler, I assist in the recording of the tales of the Dreamers of the Elsewhere Incorporate. My father, Alan T. Tryth, gives me free reign in choosing my subjects. Even in that capacity, however, I am often forced to mediate which stories are ‘good’ enough for recording.

Some stories start strong and simply fizzle into nothing. It’s a sad fact that sometimes an assignment simply doesn’t go anywhere or involves a delay during which there is little of importance to record. Take for instance the still-active Therem assignment currently on hold for another nine-hundred and eighty-three years due to an annoyingly slow-fruiting shrub.

Sometimes, there’s simply nothing to say. While there is the occasional short story or anecdote worth recording, writing anything longer about the Dreamers faffing around the Elsewhere would make for a dull book. Think about it; would you really like to read three-hundred or more pages of Two getting drunk and passing out in the Bar? I’d imagine not.

Sometimes Dreamers specifically request to have an assignment stay ‘off the record’. Perhaps it ended in failure, or they did things they’d rather not have analyzed too closely. For the most part, we respect such requests. In the rare case that it becomes a conflict of interest, Dad takes it upon himself to record the tale. These books end up in Dad’s personal library and are used only as resources for other works.

Of the many reasons a story involving a member of the Elsewhere Incorporate might go unrecorded, there is one that has no merit: because the story isn’t important enough in the grand scheme of things. It’s easy to see why some might feel that reason has merit seeing as the Elsewhere Library contains tales involving threats to planets, galaxies, even the entire universe (universes even if you count the J-27 section), but the truth is that the ‘importance’ of a story is entirely subjective.

The Elsewhere uses the term ‘bigby’ (short for big bad) for villains like Terael, Celius, Ackibar (the sorceress or the necromancer, whichever you prefer), but what of the enemies that have no true form? What of addiction, depression, loneliness and abuse? Triumph over these fiends is every bit as incredible, every bit as important to those affected by them as any demon, nightmare, or mad mage/scientist.

Do stories even need a bigby? What about journeys of self-discovery, exploration, and wonderment? Not all life is conflict, and not all conflict is life-or-death. It’s trite, I know, but sometimes a tale is more about the journey than the destination. The experiences we have through this crazy story we call life, the awkward situations and the funny coincidences and the embarrassing accidents: these things can shape a person more than any demon or nightmare.

No story is more or less important than any other because ultimately every story whether dull or exciting, conclusive or fizzle, recorded on paper or simply kept in memory is significant to someone. To say otherwise is an insult to the wild menagerie that is life, and that is something that neither my father nor I would ever deign to do.

-Alice P. Tryth

First Page of the Elsewhere Incorporate

Chapter 1

A Welcome Interruption

The Saybaro was filled with activity as the first days of spring arrived. Now one hundred residents strong, some of those who called the mansion home were in the Saybaro mansion’s kitchen preparing lunch. Others were outside in the recently established stables, tending to a Vintan zoo’s worth of creatures. Still others worked in the gardens and groves, tending to the trees, bushes, and vines that provided much of the Saybaro’s food.

Fully staffed with a team of mages and scientists led by the good witch Meryli Minuet and the mage known as Smokes, the Medical and the Tech Labs of the Glyche Facility beneath the Saybaro Mansion were a flurry of activity as the researchers ran experiments and constructed prototype devices that, if not useful, were at least interesting.

Duke and Duchess Sakamota, arguably the greatest heroes of Wenapaj, were currently in the training areas within the Glyche facility. Jimmy occasionally fussed over his pregnant wife as she instructed their children, Fei and Tifa, in hand-to-hand combat. He stopped after the fourth time Terra easily pinned him to the ground, much to the amusement of the little ones.

The busiest of all were the fairies; the little winged visitors from Minuet Tower had taken to the Saybaro as a second home. When not playing pranks on the ‘big folk’ of the Saybaro, the fairies served as messengers, assistants, and occasionally babysitters. The fairies loved children and were fiercely protective of them.

Deep in the heart of the Saybaro Facility, Bethany watched all those who lived in her age-old home through the numerous cameras and consoles that surrounded her core. After nearly three-thousand years, her hallways were once again filled with life and activity. She should’ve been happy … so why was she so restless?

As the Saybaro’s Central Intelligence Construct, Bethany’s consciousness was bound to her core, a massive orb surrounded by concentric rings that spun about at varying speeds. She didn’t need an additional form to interact with the residents of the Saybaro, but she nevertheless preferred to project herself as a high-definition hologram, itself containing basic sensor constructs that allowed her to experience her facility from the perspective of her projection in a limited fashion. It was this projection that paced around the core so many times that she told herself that she had lost count. It didn’t work.

Five-hundred and sixty-seven thousand, four-hundred and twenty-three, she said, annoyed that she couldn’t even lie to herself. With a sigh, she sat down against the railing that surrounded her core.

CIC Fei appeared beside her, his projection looking very much like Jimmy Sakamota, only with black hair instead of blonde and paler skin. Formerly the CIC of the Cylell Facility hidden beneath the Center of Knowledge in the city of Naidyr, Fei’s intelligence was now housed in the Saybaro central core as well. Bethany didn’t mind; she had plenty of storage space and having another Glyche consciousness around was comforting. In fact, she’d grown used to having Fei around.

He smiled at her and asked, Thinking about something?

Nothing, she said, her projection’s cheeks brightening in a simulated blush. I’m just - checking the floor for imperfections.

I see, he said. And have you found any the last five-hundred thousand times?

No, she admitted.

He sat beside her and looked at her with a kind expression. Wanna talk?

After a few moments of silence, she hugged her knees to her chest. My facility’s active, the mansion’s even better than it was during the time of our creators, and there are so many people living here now. I thought I’d feel fulfilled, but instead I just feel useless.

He put a holographic arm around her waist. Feeling a little bashful, Bethany leaned against his side. There was no true contact, both of them being nothing more than projections of light, but Bethany found the gesture comforting all the same.

Have you spoken to Jimmy or Terra about this, Fei asked, rubbing her arm.

They’re busy raising Fei and Tifa, she said, cheeks going red again.

The researchers?

I don’t want to bother their research. That’s why I turned over control of the Medical and Tech labs to Smokes and Minnie.

"What about the people in the house? Surely, you’ve got some friends there. I heard you talking with some of the people working on the old ballroom just the other day.

Yeah, but … well, they’re so busy.

Okay then, what about your sisters? Surely if you could talk to anyone, you could talk to one of them.

I don’t know, she said, blushing again. I’m sure they’ve got their own projects to worry about.

Fei chuckled as he ruffled her hair. Oh, Beth. People here haven’t cut you out! You’ve cut yourself out.

What do you mean?

You’ve been trying so hard not to be a bother that you’ve delegated yourself out of a job.

I don’t want to impose on their work.

Did it occur to you that maybe the reason they don’t ask for your help is that they don’t want to impose on you? Everyone likes you, Beth. He smiled at her. After all, you’re very likable.

She blushed again, unable to keep a smile from her face. So, what should I do?

Find a project, he told her. Use that as an excuse to bring in some of your old friends and let them know how you feel.

A new project? Like what?

Whatever sparks your interests. Hell, ask your sisters. Maybe one of them can give you an idea. In the very least, it’ll give you a reason to talk to them. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, prompting yet another blush. I gotta go check on the sprinklers in the geen grove. The fairies rigged them so that they go off when anyone gets too close. I’m going to fix the problem, then turn my attention to finding the moron who thought it was a good idea to teach the fairies basic programming.

With that, he was gone. Bethany considered his words for a few moments before deactivating her projection.

Goodbye, Alaina called out as the travelers departed from her facility. Her hologram was beside the door, at the very edge of her projection area. It was the closest she could get to the outside, and she never missed a chance to see the sky as the facility entrance opened. Sure, she had surface cameras, but watching the sky from her hologram’s ‘eyes’ seemed more real somehow.

And if the road gets ‘ruff’, come on back, she added with a grin.

Chuckling at Alaina’s pun, the lupere couple smiled and waved as they walked away, their long shaggy tails and floppy dog-like ears rustling in the strong wind blowing across the Natalya Highway. They had been nice guests and were as surprised as many at the discovery of her facility. She’d had her skrievers set out signs and had made a valiant effort to smarten up her doorstep, but most dismissed it as either a joke or a poorly disguised trap. Those that didn’t enjoyed the finest food and quarters Alaina could provide, all in exchange for their stories. She didn’t even use the mind-scan anymore, as she felt it spoiled the fun. She wanted to hear their words and imagine the scenes they conjured for herself.

Unfortunately, those two lupere were the only visitors in months, and they were on their way to Wukice to try and break into show business. They’d likely either end up living in Wukice, possibly even shacking up with her sister, CIC Cristlyn of the Genovis Facility. The thought made Alaina’s holographic hands curl into fists. Cristlyn, once again, had all the luck. Cristlyn had the direct connection to the Yaevin station and its wonderful satellites and all the people of Wukice and its fantastic movie studios for company. Sure, Alaina could patch in to her sister’s facility, but dealing with Cristlyn always brought with it that annoying sensation, like a digital version of a smirk. Alaina needed Cristlyn to access the world, and Cristlyn knew it. It drove Alaina up the metaphorical wall to no end.

As the outer doors slid shut, Alaina sighed and transferred her hologram to the Sun Room in the residential area. An artificial biome created by the Glyche for those who spent their days in the facility with no contact with the outside, the Sun Room was as close as she’d ever get to feeling the suns on her face. She sat down by the lake, her legs sliding into the water with no resistance. She dipped her hand into the water, her expression melancholy. She could identify the makeup of the individual atoms, the temperature of the water, even some fur from the lupere that had yet to be vacuumed up by the pool cleaners, but for all her sophistication, she couldn’t truly feel the water. She yearned to feel the kiss of cool liquid against her skin, to bask in the warmth of the suns, and to see the world for herself.

The comm alert made her leap out of the lake and transfer herself to the central core immediately. She didn’t care who it was: King Iniagus, Jimmy Sakamota, or even Cristlyn. Anyone would do if she could talk to someone.

Oh, for Creator’s Sake!

The frightened sourian nervously adjusted his glasses and said, I’m afraid at the end of the day, it is what it is.

Whatever, Cristlyn said. I’ll get my skrievers to patch it up, but next time you need to read the damn instructions! I clearly laid out the tolerances of this device, which you apparently ignored!

Yes, but we want to give the ending a little more oomph! A little something spectacular! I mean, if we’d known how underwhelming the original model would be, we would’ve altered the specs we gave you.

Or maybe for once you could make do with what I gave you like you were a professional or something. I’ve rebuilt this damn bug twelve times already thanks to your scriptwriter.

His furry cheeks flushed, the sourian said, Yes, well, we do have a contract.

Cristlyn teleported him into one of the outer hallways and set the holographic corridors to make him loop for an hour before leading him to the exit. The doors to the central core of the Genovis Facility came slamming down with series of loud clangs even though she’d ensured that he couldn’t return. Punishing the idiots was one of the rare pleasures she had in her life, and as she shook her head, she turned to her other major pleasure: music.

The central core was perfectly designed to amplify the sounds of the speakers her skrievers had installed at her request. The gentle sounds of a full orchestra soon filled the entire chamber. She transferred her image to the top of the core, adjusting the concentric rings circling the orb so that they passed at the same speed of the orchestra’s tempo.

As she let out a long sigh, she wondered once again how she ended up where she was. Not as in location, of course; like most CICs, Cristlyn had been programmed straight into her core. No, she was talking about her unofficial position as the go-to gal in Wukice for whatever was needed. Need a screenplay proofed, ask Crissy. Need help finding a good actor, she’s got the lowdown on everyone in the city. Need a prop that is spectacular, eye-catching, and (debatably most important of all) cheap? She’s got a bunch of cool Glyche tech, and she’d be more than happy to assist. After all, she lives in Wukice and doesn’t even pay rent!

That last bit burned her most of all. Her facility was built before there even was a Wukice and was undoubtedly the only reason there even was a city there in the first place, yet that idiot Uwen Harris and his mayoral council of morons had the nerve to act like she owed them? She helped save their damn livelihood, for the Creator’s sake! The least they could do is impose a limit on how many morons were allowed to bother her on a daily basis.

As the music swelled, Cristlyn closed her eyes and pulled up a satellite image of one of Ircandesta’s beaches. She watched as the waves crashed on the distant sand as the wind section carried her away. The song wasn’t finished yet. In truth, she’d yet to finish a full composition. Too many distractions … at least, that’s what she tried to tell herself, but the truth was, she could never come up with a good ending. What she needed was to get out of her facility, to get away from the noise of Wukice and go out into the world to find the inspiration she needed.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt at the misplaced sound of a horn. Cristlyn was very careful with her notation, yet there it was, a horn blowing completely off-tempo. It sounded a little bit like …

She silenced the music with a swift motion of one hand, yet the sound continued. It wasn’t a horn; it was an incoming comm alert.

Josalyn closed the book with a happy sigh. She loved it when stories ended with weddings, the hero or heroine trading vows with one or more potential love interests. She wasn’t at any real location within the facility; the library around her was just simulated. Thousands of years spent as the CIC of the Glyche facility beneath the Guildmaster’s Workshop in Rimstak had given her the opportunity to develop that rarest of gifts among the CICs: an imagination.

She stood up from her chair beside the parapet of the Terrace, a massive balcony off her palace’s tallest tower that offered a fantastic view of the woods surrounding her sanctuary. To call it a library would be an understatement. It was a castle of books, a place where she could recreate any character she chose. She’d dined with aliens, chased goblins out of her reference section, and traded jokes with philosophers whose original bodies passed long ago. This was her special place, separated from all the hustle and bustle around the Guildmaster’s Workshop.

She was just about to descend the steps that surrounded the Terrace to go to the library proper and find a new novel when she felt the familiar tug of the computer core. With much reluctance, she left her library and settled once again in her massive core, where a Rimstakken with whom she was quite familiar was waiting.

Appearing in front of the Rimstakken, she put on her best smile and said, Oh, hello again Dathaniellius. How are you today?

I am being quite acceptable, CIC Josalyn, he said, bobbing his head politely. Can you be telling me the amount of energy reserve available? I am wanting to proceed with the construction of the Gallendrun but am not wanting to cause problem.

I’ll check, she said. It took less than a second to get the information and say, Seventy-three percent at capacity. You should be fine.

Ah, much thanks.

He started to walk away, but she appeared directly in his path, hands on her holographic hips.

Well, she asked, smiling at him. What did she say?

His cheeks went dark. Slowly, he lifted the pendant he was wearing, a silver squirrel holding an amber acorn.

Josalyn clasped her hands together and let out a squee before hugging the startled Rimstakken. Oh my gosh, congratulations! I’m so happy for you both!

I am having much thanks, he said, rubbing the back of his head, a goofy smile on his face. "For the congratulations and