Silitech Intel

Feron ran the diagnostic reports again, the variances, kurtosis scores, then the coefficients and dozens of probability plots. If he was going to bring these outputs to his director, he had to be certain. Well, as certain as you can be with inferential analysis, and for Feron, if he said an event was ‘likely’ you could invest on it and not lose any sleep.

“Okay Feron, confirm my results please.” Mirol is the Director of Inferential Political Analysis of Sector <REDACTED>. A talented analyst in his own right, he did his own analysis on high priority concerns in part to show off to the young analysts and in part as secondary output confirmation. When Feron’s results confirm his own, Miron will be one of a universally infinitesimal number of individuals that have been witness to  influential historical interchanges in deep time. Many people have been present at a deciding moment that determines the future trajectory of a nation, but very few people actually see the discrete confluence  of individual paths that merge into a single future.

Before he finished reviewing Feron’s results, the room began to spin for Mirol and his balance began to fail him. “Damnable flawed inner ears….Thank you, please continue to run the low probability scenarios and prepare the narrative reports for management by the end of the week.” His fingers flurried as he began to rearrange the files on his executive tablet when an alarm sounded from the device requesting his presence in the Office of the Superintendent of Political Affairs.

Mirol struggled to regulate his oxygen intake and carbon dioxide output on the walk across the plaza and up three flights of stairs to the Superintendent's office. A thin, stern faced secretary motioned to him to sit in one of the nearby chairs and wait. The Superintendent's office door was closed but not completely, leaving a crack of space for elevated fill the waiting area. As soon as he had approached the bank of seats, a small orange indicator in the top right hand of his field of vision blinked from amber to green, the proximity alert on his visual info-lay, an upgraded graphical field of vision overlay he had installed when he received his promotion to director some time ago. The door to the office opened and the Superintendent's voice carried

“I see you there Mirol, please come in while we finish.”

“Ambassador, a treaty and an alliance is the ONLY reason you are here right now! If Earth does not agree to the conditions that we have laid forth, then Earth cannot expect Silitech to budget, allocate and reserve sufficient resources to be of any use or help. We will not operate any branch of our structure on the drop of hat, the shareholders will not stand for it, and frankly neither would the Board even if the shareholders did.”

The Ambassador for the Federated Earth Alliance responded sharply.

“And Silitech cannot possibly expect the Federated Earth Alliance to capitulate to such lopsided, self-serving demands. There is not a circumstance in which we would accept a trade agreement that does not include a stringent review of the core software embedded in the AI modules you send us. Kindly recall that it is the Earth offering Silitech military assistance with your …. issues. Not to mention that no one else will trade for your goods in the volumes that we are negotiating.”

“If you can find a source outside Silitech to purchase AI modules, or any other technology of any kind that comes within a light year of the quality and scope of work  Silitech produces, you are welcome pursue those avenues and then come crawling back to our considerably more stringent purchase requirements when those other options sell you low grade garbage tech. I'm certain Earth falls within SOME trade route or another a Gorssk barge will trundle onto eventually.” Mirol noted the Earth ambassador's visible bristling at this remark. “ No, you will release your right to inspect our deliveries, and you will do so with aplomb, knowing that you have purchased the best in the galaxy, at the best price and while you deliver payload after payload of Federated Earth Alliance Orbital Strikes and assault infantry as we have discussed.”

Mirol didn’t need sensitive physio-array software to see that  the Earth Ambassador was simmering on the precipice of boil over. “I will certainly relay Silitech’s gracious offer, as well as your approximation of Earth’s apparent value as an ally. I hope you expect much assistance when a sour deal turns hot Allain!”

The ambassador stomped out of the office, an aide quickly in tow trying desperately to keep pace with the angry diplomat without dropping into a full trot-run. Fewer than ten seconds after the Earth Alliance ambassadors exit, Superintendent Allain Tifrow casually stepped behind his executive desk, scanned a file on his desktop tablet, typed a brief message and looked up to Mirol. “Mirol, I've just requested a  software implant be embedded into the FEA system, you have approximately ninety seconds to project the top five informational targets to code into the ambassadors vessel.”

“Yes sir, but I won't need it. Have them code it for ‘Vega’, ‘Import’’, ‘Bend’, ‘Ape’ and ‘Orbital Strike’. Those key words ought to return the critical mass of data we need to determine Earth's primary policy goals.

“Very well Mirol, thank you for your hard work and effort. May your next upgrade bring you closer to the singularity.”