Two | Aliya

“Thank you again for making it on such short notice, Agent Hines. Anyone follow you here?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good, good. Come in.”

Despite the fact the Interstellar Hybrid Agency is down to its skeleton staff today, I once again find myself in the highly coveted office of Leticia Carta. From a mesh-and-steel guest chair, her youngest daughter sits with her head bowed in shame. 2024 would have marked her final year of provision before she obtained her complete agent license for the IHA. But after the frenzied phone call I got from the Director, I’d be surprised if she still has a job here.

I shut the door behind me and take the seat to Bilara’s right.

“Does the public know what’s happened?” I ask her.

“Thankfully not.” Billie glances down at her nails; they’re caked with dirt and grime from what I presume was the frenzied repair job last night. “It’s a miracle Lola’s still okay.”

“I’m afraid my hands are tied,” Director Carta admits to me with a sigh. By Solace’s grace, she and Billie look so much alike…

“How so?” I ask.

“It escaped, Aliya. Lola’s escape isn’t just a matter of malfunctioning technology, it’s also a matter of security. Billie here was one of two eyewitnesses, and…I’m trying to call in the other person who was involved, but she’s not here yet…”

She doesn’t have to mention a name for me to understand exactly who it is she’s referring to. She’s one of our…opinionated staff members, to put it lightly. She means well, she always does…but she’s also been in more trouble than it’s worth.

“Can I get you a drink?” Director Carta asks me. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Water’s fine,” I promise her.

Gesturing to the water pitcher and cups on her desk, Director Carta’s mahogany eyes fix upon the face of her wristwatch. It’s a dainty silver antiquity with a gorgeous pearlescent face, reminiscent of the fine jewellery forged in the heart of the Hybridian Halo. As I pour myself a cup of water, her lips press together.

“Have you seen her?” she queries.

“Who?”

“Dolton. She’s late—”

“Speak of the Devil,” Bilara murmurs, swinging her head as the double doors burst wide open.

Teresa Dolton rushes into the office, leaving puddles of rainwater in her wake. For a moment, I wonder if she can even see us through the quivering droplets streaked across her glasses. She carefully bundles her tote bag — darkened by the afternoon rain, — underneath the chair on Bilara’s left. Her eyes drift down at the carpet as she clasps her palms together, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, Director Carta!” Her accent is jarring against the drawls of my friends. “The traffic was crazy on the way up here. There’s cars on the freeway for ages trying to—”

“That’s enough, Dolton. Sit down.”

Without a word of protest, Tessa slumps into the curves of her chair. Her cheeks tinge pink as she folds her arms over her chest. She still can’t bear to look her in the eye; I’d be ashamed too if I was late for a summon from an Archangel of the Magna Carta.

Director Carta lets out a hefty sigh and rises from her chair to face the overlooking forests.

Situated deep in the hearth of Ashberry’s woodlands, access to the IHA’s headquarters has always been restricted to those employed or on official duties. Groves of Ashberrian apricot trees coat the rolling hills, although a few spruce trees brush against the edges of the window. I’ve always admired the beauty of this place.

It’ll never be Aurakalas, but it’s still home.

- - -

My eyes wander around the four walls of Director Carta’s office. The emblem of the Magna Carta is proudly displayed behind her, a symbol mirroring the one embroidered on the left pocket of my blazer. The halo of the Solacians, the torus of the Occuli, and Hybridia, Earth and the Sun. All bridged together by a diamond, the strongest formation known to the human race.

Think of the greater good when you wear the uniform.

Her jarrah desk is a new addition to the office, alongside the flashy pearl computer with its detached mouse and keyboard. With a hefty sigh, she collapses into her executive chair and pulls open a drawer. If I’m somehow in trouble at the moment, she’s not doing a very good job of hiding her disdain as she usually does.

“We need to sort this out,” she begins. “Now.”

She seems...disappointed.

The three of us sit in silence as Director Carta watches the rain. Daffodil-scented mist plumes from a matte white diffuser atop a bookshelf, while an arrangement of matching blooms sits nearby. Those who follow the Solacian faith often seek meanings from the flora of Hybridia; daffodils are considered to be the most sacred plants of them all. Yet as her eyes fix upon the land, I can’t help but to wonder if she’s in mourning of her time here.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” she begins, “today marks one thousand years since I was chosen as part of the eighth Magna Carta. It’s a duty countless dream of fulfilling, but one with an unsurmountable responsibility.” When she turns to face the three of us again, I swear I can see a glimmer beneath her right eye.

She blinks, I blink, and it’s gone.

“In exchange for Vates’ immortality and Caelum’s power,” she continues, “we are to keep the peace between Earth and Hybridia. And why do we do this?”

“To protect the lives of all who are born into the Mother of Worlds’ domain.”

It’s an answer that comes naturally to me. The Magna Carta’s relationship with the IHA is one of the first things they drilled into us during our academy training. I’m not sure why Tessa didn’t beat me to it, considering she seems to know everything around here. She’s always acting like she does, anyway.

“The Lateral Ontological Archivist has been an ongoing project of the IHA’s for fifty years now,” Director Carta decides. “We’ve invested nothing short of a fortune on designing an invaluable database of our worlds’ histories so that the Magna Carta can better act with objectivity when it comes to discourse and conflict.” She adjusts her wristwatch, her hands twitching ever-so-slightly. “If I recall, Miss Dolton, it was you who helped designed her current iteration.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Director. I did design her current iteration.”

By now, the Director is nothing short of irate. I would be too if I’d watched humanity progress for a thousand years, all to see the same mistakes happening over and over again. But she does her best to control her anger, opting to contain it in the wringing of her hands.

“Dr Mela’s reports to me suggest that your intentions were to incorporate artificial intelligence models into Lola’s current programming, is that correct?”

Tessa nods her head once.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Who’s your Head of Department?”

“Dr Jace Edwards.”

“Did he give you clearance or otherwise authorise you and Dr Mela to incorporate those changes?”

Tessa doesn’t answer. Her gaze drifts towards the ground.

“Did he?” she repeats.

“No,” she murmurs back. “He did not.”

“Did he know that was your intent with Lola?”

“We tried to explain why we were making those changes, but he didn’t think—”

“Why did you and Mela act against Dr Edwards’ wishes, then?”

“Because a robot who can learn as the world changes is our best shot at developing a complete picture of history. With the last iteration, she was trained on an algorithm that only incorporated human-generated data from the Internet. It’s just not accurate.”

“It wasn’t just the Internet it was trained on, Dolton. It was also the IHA’s database, one of the most complete and factual records of history in either of our worlds. A machine that can think for itself is dangerous.”

“A machine that can think for itself like Lola is able to discern between factual and incorrect information. She can learn to understand the world around her as it changes! She remembers who I am, she remembers who you are, and she acts accordingly!”

“It also removed its tracking device last night before getting caught in a shrub and attacked by Solace knows what,” she reminds her. “So either it has decided it doesn’t answer to us anymore, or you have programmed it to do so. Either way, Teresa, you’ve crossed the line.”

Although I’m not Tessa’s biggest fan either, she’s only human. As tears well into her eyes, she shrinks into her seat. I place an arm over her shoulder, knowing all-too-well what’s about to succeed those words.

“Mom…” Bilara sighs, “it was just a mistake. Lola’s fine now. She’s back in the laboratory, and Dr Mela and Dr Edwards are fine-tuning her for the Ceremony of Passage. You’ll still have your present for the ninth Magna Carta—”

“That’s not good enough!” she argues back, slamming her fist on the desk. I’m taken aback by her sudden outburst. It’s just so out of character for someone of Director Carta’s status.

“Letty, surely you—”

“Do not speak out of turn, Agent Hines. Teresa, your conduct during your time here at the IHA has been nothing short of abhorrent. You seldom control your temper around others, your arrogance has cost our agency millions of dollars in damages, and despite all of this, you remain completely unapologetic for what you’ve done!”

“You don’t even understand Lola like I do! You don’t even care about her!”

“Agent Hines, escort Dolton to her office at once to gather her belongings.”

“Mom!” Bilara frowns. “C’mon, she’s worked so hard on this project for you—”

“Dolton, your contract with the Interstellar Hybrid Agency is hereby terminated. Go with Agent Hines at once. Bilara, if you continue to argue with me, your contract will follow suit.”

“Let’s go, Tessa,” I murmur as I help her stand up. She can barely hold back her choked sobs at this point, her face red and puffy from the tears flooding across her cheeks.

She’s only human, after all.

Teresa Dolton was one of the Interstellar Hybrid Agency's junior tech division agents. She was promising, a rising star of the IHA. Her awards were evidence of such accomplishment. But her arrogance far outweighs her potential.