Chương 99: 7.01 No Return without Receipt or Label

2104: 03: 25: 16: 49: 03"Sam. You're not an android." I blinked at Marianne's words. Words that should've struck me like a hammer, should've either twisted my mind in pretzels of self-doubt or straightened it into a baguette of realization, they didn't strike me at all. My ears refused to hear them. Like a broken memcord, I repeated myself.

"I'm an android." Her brow twitched.

"I'm sorry Sam," her expression twisted slightly, like she wasn't sure whether she should be saying this or not, "but you're really not." This time the words hit, full and understood. And yet, only one thought came to the forefront of my mind. What the hell was she talking about?

"…But I am?" I strongly countered. Marianne mouth twisted strangely, her body leaning back into her seat and fingers tapping idly on the armrest of her chair as she thought over what I said.

"Okay," she said.

"I'd refrained from asking you this before because I figured it was both traumatic and yet overall… inconsequential, compared to the more pressing issues of dealing with your achronal displacement and all that comes with it. And so, I will ask you now: can you tell me about your first day? Your first moments, first memories." Yes, that was a good point from which to start convincing her.

"Okay. So, I woke up on a metal sheet in my creator's underground laboratory and-""Pause." Marianne held up her hand and I stopped. She rubbed pinched the corners of her eyes for a moment before continuing.

"A laboratory?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, a laboratory. Of my maker. Because I'm an android."

"Yes, right. Sorry. Continue?" With a healthy dose of memcordings usage, I told Marianne of my moments up until the helicopter ride. Of the laboratory-hospital-bunker-morgue I woke up in, of my first moments recalibrating my senses – something that in hindsight felt similar to overstretching my powers – of the earthquake and the aftershocks that'd caused the laboratory to be destroyed, and of my escape as a mole to the overworld. And of Trajan Baker, my dead maker-creator. What little I knew of the man at least.

"Trajan Baker, huh…" Marianne hummed in thought. During the conversation, she'd taken the tablet of the table again to take notes of what I'd said. And as had happened during the conversation, she became stuck on that name again. Her frowning escalated, a rapid-fire series of quick taps following right after. Then, a raising of the eyebrows, an intent look at her screen, then at me. She turned the tablet around.

"This him?" And indeed it was. On her tablet was a picture of a young, brown-haired young adult looking almost the exact same as I'd last seen him – albeit with all his fingers and less bloodied. The photo was of him and his parents at his high school graduation, each smiling and looking happily into the camera as the mother took the selfie.

"Yep. That's him."

"He's been missing since 2079," she said, turning the tablet around again.

"Temporally displaced in an incident between the villains Bandersnatch and Kronaanite near the University of Washington here in Charm." She looked up and stared at me again.

"Though it appears he was achronally displaced rather than temporally." I opened and closed my mouth a few times, mind running a mile a minute.

"B-but that can't be true. Not achronally – he gave me the background on himself." Unless Marianne was the one lying here, but… no, I couldn't see why she would.

"He must've built me right after returning from being temporally displaced."

"Without informing his parents or anyone else he'd returned?"

"I mean, with him dropping out he might-""He did not drop out, Sam. He got-" Marianne halted all of a sudden, letting out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry. I got a bit agitated there, but- no, let's reset for a moment. Tell me why you- no, let's do this the other way around. Why do you think I'm hesitant to agree you're an android?"

"Because I've yet to become a Mad one?" She scowled, though I could tell it wasn't aimed at me as much as the words I'd said.

"Yes, 'Mad Android Syndrome' – ghastly name, that, and wholly inappropriate. Really, if anything it should be…" She shook her head.

"I digress. Yes, the degradation of powered maker-tech overreliant on its creator as a source is a well-known problem – especially in the case of complex semi-autonomous systems. But is that your only answer?"

"…Because I'm not a villain?" Marianne snorted, finding the thought of me being a villain ridiculous.

"No, it's not because of that. How about this: I assume that before you came here, you've done your research on androids?" I nodded.

"Good. What about achronally displaced?" I frowned.

"I've done some, especially in the beginning." For my cover, I had to figure out how to act, what kinds of things I could and could not do, and how achronal displacement-induced amnesia differed from the regular kind.

"Then tell me Sam, do you think you would be the first person – or android, or summon, or another type of being – to try and pretend to be an achronally displaced person?" Marianne asked. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Obviously, obviously there had to have been someone in the century-and-a-half long history of superpowers to have thought to do that.

Especially before the Treaty separated the civilian identity from the masked, that would've been the first thing any villainous mimic-type shifter would've attempted. Which meant…

"They check for this kind of thing," Marianne said.

"And they do it very thoroughly. Ever since the impersonation of Kanselier Laurents of the Rhine Countries in the early 21 st century every state has its own procedures to discover whether people are who they say they are, with the city of Raadsburg making an art out of it. Something you should know a lot about."

"I should?" Marianne nodded.

"You remember that in our first meeting, I asked you and your mother to sign certain things? Including a permit for a number of your medical files?" I nodded, though without looking back at my memcordings I'd be hard-pressed to remember what, exactly, it was I signed.

"Among those medical files was an overview of your GAC." Before I could ask, "Your General Authenticity Check; the series of tests you underwent when you first arrived in Charm," Marianne explained.

"It is a partly-modular, partly-standardized series of tests done to any found persons. It checks for a variety of things depending on their circumstances, but in the case of the achronally displaced it generally measures three things: physical and genetic similarities, loss of memory without apparent loss or damage to parts of the brain, and the presence of chronovariance within the body." She didn't have to say I'd passed all three, or I wouldn't be here right now.

"But those could be spoofed, right? I mean, my creator was a maker specialized in creating superpowered androids – surely if he can grant powers he must have some method of- of subverting a test?"

"You're right," Marianne admitted, much to my surprise.

"The GAC you took isn't airtight; doing so would've required an invasive procedure. Which would need either a well-founded suspicion of illegal or superpowered activity – and thus a court order and the Guardians to proceed – or initiative on the patient's part to request such a test. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"So yes, a positive result could very well be spoofed in your case. But tell me this, Sam: why do you believe you're an android?" For all the surprises I'd gotten so far, this one left me stumped the most – even moreso than denying my androidhood had, I found. It was like she was asking me why I believed my right arm was my right arm, or like me asking her why she believed she was a human. Or why she believed anything was real at all and not a simulation in her – or my – head.

I believed I was an android because I knew I was an android. Which wasn't an argument at all.

"I wouldn't have my powers if I wasn't an android?" I attempted.

"It isn't uncommon for the achronally displaced to develop powers," she countered, citing a fact I knew well.

"And your mother is a powerful masked as well. Inheritance happens, even if your powers seem quite different on the surface." I frowned.

"I was supposed to have more powers," I complained. Marianne nodded but made no comment.

"My body has greater-than-human strength?"

'Olympian'-level strength really, which was still in the human range but was more than I should have regardless.

"Well, you're not a machine – not a metal one, I mean – so I doubt there is a purely mechanical explanation for it," she said.

"And the GAC found no biopharmaceutical augments nor any other types of, ah, procedures that could explain it." What she meant was: just another superpower. Nothing specifically android about it.

"What about my lack of need for sleep?" Before Marianne could respond, I opened my mouth again to add, "Or me not needing food or water?" She raised her eyebrows at that last one.

"That's a new – and though I'm not an expert on powers, it's a rare one, right?" I nodded and Marianne tilted her head and tapping her chin in thought. She frowned.

"How did you find out about that aspect?"

"What do-" Ah, I saw where she was going with this.

"I don't get tired – physically tired, I mean. Nor hungry or thirsty no matter how little I eat or how intense I move about. Unless I get like, wounded and stuff; then I get tired. But even then I don't need to eat or anything."

"Interesting," Marianne admitted, "but again, without-""I can remember everything perfectly," I said.

"And it's not a part of me – not inside my mind, anyway – but it's- well, it's like a machine. External, needing me to pull the memory out of it." I idly scratched my cheek.

"I call them my memcordings – from my memcorder. You know, combining 'record' and 'memory'?" It felt awkward saying it out loud.

"External, huh." Marianne looked concerned now. Was that a good or a bad sign? I didn't know anymore.

"And you know where it is?"

"I…" didn't.

"I thought somewhere in my head."

"If so, it didn't show up in the medical scans." I'd already guessed that much.

"Which brings us back to the point about results being spoofed or not, but we're straying from the main point again: which was why you believe you are an android." I fidgeted in my seat.

"Maybe the device is back at my maker's lab? Or maybe somewhere further into his bunker? I mean, the Heroic Impulse is still functioning, so if my memcorder is anywhere it is likely there too." Marianne rubbed her forehead.

"Yes, the base." She looked troubled – pained, even – just saying that.

"We'll circle back to that in a-" She paused.

"Heroic Impulse?"

"Yes? Oh, right. You know those voices I mentioned? One of them, the one I call pseudo-Sam, is really a fault in my personality matrix based on constructed memories of the other-Sam as told to me by Mom – or that is my best guess, anyway.

"The other is the Heroic Impulse, a stabilization program normally meant to prevent Mad Android Syndrome but has recently gone haywire and tried to control me to… well, fulfill its faulty definition of heroics, I guess?" I shrugged.

"I'm not really sure what its goals are." Marianne looked at me without saying a word, so I continued.

"Oh, besides me being a hero, of course. Hence the name: 'Heroic Impulse'." Again, Marianne just stared at me, expression expertly held blank. In hindsight, I maybe should've started with the Heroic Impulse. It was undoubtedly the one thing that proved me to be what I said I was. Strangely though, despite this being the potential point of realization for Marianne, my worries had long since fled. In fact, I felt calmer than I'd been in days, to the point I wanted to smile at Marianne being frozen and speechless.

I controlled myself though. After about eight seconds, Marianne began breathing again.

"Okay." Her voice broke, so she scraped her throat.

"So, this voice-""Program."

"This program, then. The Heroic Impulse… it sometimes tells you what to do?"

"Ehhh," I ehh-ed in consideration. She was only half right.

"It didn't use to do that – which is part of why I'm talking to you about this. But recently, it's become more insistent. Sometimes to the point of taking control – or trying to, anyway."

"It's trying to take control over you?" Here Marianne didn't try to disguise her worry.

"No no! Well, not exactly. Only since Mad Android Syndrome started setting in, and even then only at certain points, like-" I cut myself off; I couldn't tell her about my brother.

"Like during masked fights, when it wants me to be more violent against villains. Or like last week when I went up against Motorgang – it helped me out there." I hesitated. Should I tell her about the self-termination button? Better not.

"Not that it can if I don't want it to. I've become so used to holding it off by now it's basically no problem. Really, it's pseudo-Sam I'm more worried about – she just took over without warning!" I restrained the urge to laugh. It felt like it would come out too unhinged, and Marianne looked to be having a tough enough time as it was.

"That's your… a simulation, right?" She questioned. I nodded; simulation was as good a word as any.

"Your simulation of the other Sam is also trying to take over?" Again, I nodded. Finally I was getting somewhere.

"Do you believe me now?" She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I believe there's something going on." Better than nothing, I supposed.

"Something we need to figure out and deal with." Again, sounded like we were heading in the right direction. Toward a solution, hopefully.

"As for being an android though? Not as such." Okay, not so much heading in the right direction anymore. I frowned and leaned forward in agitation.

"But you just -" She held up her hand.

"Let me explain, okay? Please?" After a second spent in hesitation, I nodded and leaned back again. Marianne continued.

"Okay. So, as you probably know, all maker machines are built with a purpose in mind. Well, all machines are – but you get my point." I nodded.

"And if those machines are intelligent enough, they'll pursue that goal autonomously and efficiently, in accordance to the way they were designed."

"Yes," I said.

"Like with me being a hero," Surprisingly, she agreed.

"Exactly. And they pursue that purpose above all else." I nodded, glad to finally be on the same page.

"Yes. I-" But Marianne cut me off.

"Above all else," she emphasized.

"They do things only when it furthers their goal. They do not care about family. They do not care about friends. They feel no love or joy; no sadness or anger; guilt or grief. They connect to nothing but their maker, and the purpose they were built for. It is part of the reason why sufficiently complex and/or esoteric maker-tech decay over time without their maker's power supporting them; they cannot handle being without it. They degrade not morally, but mechanically, until you get a so-called 'Mad Android'."

I remained silent.

"Tell me, Sam," Marianne asked.

"Does that describe you?" It did not. Oh, there were counterarguments I could make about how everything I did ultimately bore out some utilitarian function – integrating myself into society, keeping my nature secret, creating and maintaining bonds to heroes only to further my career, my purpose. But however true that might be from a certain perspective, I didn't actually feel that way. What was worse, I knew exactly what kind of thing did fulfill those conditions: my Heroic Impulse.

It had done so with Mom out at the lake, and it'd tried to do so with Michael, and succeeded with Nth-Sight. So ultimately, what could I do but admit it.

"No," I said, dejected.

"That sounds like my Heroic Impulse." And what was that realization worth? Did that mean I wasn't an android after all? But that didn't make any sense. I woke up in a laboratory, I knew my creator, I was suffering from Mad Android Syndrome, all my sub-powers overlapped thematically at what could be expected from an android. I was an android the same way the sky was blue. What else could I possibly be?

"B-but the earthquakes," I argued.

"The dates they started at don't line up with me waking up. He made me three days after the earthquake caused by my creator happened. I can't be achronally displaced; there would have been more earthquakes if I was – not just aftershocks." Marianne nodded.

"Yes. That, the underground laboratory, and your 'Heroic Impulse' is part of what has me worried that there might be some – some," she emphasized, seeing me open my mouth, "truth to what you're saying. Which is why I advise you to plan a RAT test." I blinked, then scrunched my nose.

"A rat test?"

"Are-Ayy-Tee test, or Raadsburg Artificiality Test; the mother of all authenticity checks. Not only will it confirm whether or not the GAC was right and performed correctly, it'll be able to test for mental interference, certain power usages – both by you, for you and against you – and whether or not results have been spoofed. And whether there are, eh, 'hidden parts' to your body." She looked extremely uncomfortable about the last point.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Parts of the test are considered more than a bit invasive," she said.

"As I said before, parts of the GAC – and the RAT in its entirety – can only be performed on court order or on request of the subject in question. Very likely – and hopefully – it won't come to that, but it would be unethical for me not to inform you about the possibility."

"Oookaaay?" I said doubtfully.

"And where can I go get a RAT test?"

"If you give me permission, I can reach out to arrange one for you." Again, she held out her hand to forestall my instant agreement.

"You have to realize, Sam, that this isn't a simple test. Nowadays the RAT is barely used, and so anyone using it inevitably attracts some scrutiny from the government – no matter how heavily obscured and protected by law the tests and the resulting data are.

"People from all over will have to get involved. Not just doctors, but the Guardians play a part in it as well, along with the Departments of Law Enforcement; of Health and Welfare; of Child, Youth and Family services even. And, if what you told me about the laboratory is true – and I don't doubt that it is – the Departments of Public Works and Restoration; and Science and Nature as well." I gulped.

"Why-""The GAC replaced the RAT for a reason. Not because it is expensive or anything – it is only a bit more so than the GAC – but because the GAC covers all the more common varieties of, ah, subversive activities of powered and non-powered nature. So when the RAT gets invoked, it is more than just novel; it means the possibility of something very wrong. Dark Age levels of wrong."

"Ah." I got the point. I still didn't fully understand it, but I got it. Either way, "Can't I do another type of GAC then? Avoid the hassle?"

"Not with the way you described your Heroic Impulse and pseudo-Sam." Marianne spotted my lack of understanding.

"Think of it as the difference between a villain attack and a Treaty-break." Now that I could understand.

"So? Yes or no?" I hesitated, until I figured out that hesitation solved nothing.

"Yes," I said bitterly. I didn't have much choice either way. If that was what it would take to convince people I was an android suffering from a slow-burn variant of Mad Android Syndrome, then so be it. Marianne stared at me, all but asking me to flinch, but I stood fast. She nodded.

"Alright. I will reach out, set things in motion and hopefully by next session have a date planned for the test. And finally, while you could, strictly speaking, take these tests anonymously, I strongly advise you to tell your mother you're taking one."

"But then I'd have to tell her I'm an android," I definitely didn't whine.

"Wouldn't she…?" I didn't even know anymore what she would do.

"She'd probably react the same way I did," Marianne said.

"She has no doubt read the GAC as well – as is her right as your guardian. Honestly? Even if she doesn't know anything about androids or achronal displacement, I think she simply… won't believe you're not her daughter." She wore an odd expression as she said it. Not quite encouraging, not quite pitying, but something in between. Commiserating, perhaps.

"And even if she did believe you're somehow an android… what then?" Marianne continued.

"You think she'll try to arrest you? Kill you?" I looked away in discomfort. That was exactly what I feared; that, and the look on her face as she realized I wasn't her real daughter. Marianne sighed.

"Look, Sam. I don't know what you read on the internet, but I can hazard a guess, and so let me just say this: people simply do not think about androids. Yes, due to media they still have a poor image – but that image is implicit, a thematic background; not reality. Nobody truly thinks about androids, or robot armies, or machine clones replacing people. Nobody's met one and will never meet an android.

"And if anyone ever does meet an android? I can guarantee that outside of some general shock, they'll barely care, and those that do – like heroes – wouldn't want you dead right on the spot." I had my doubts about that-"So just… just try, alright?" Marianne pleaded.

"I promise you it'll be alright." -but right now, I felt I could do nothing but agree. Besides, even if I didn't agree with her expectations, if there was one to take away from today's session it was that I at least had a stay of execution until after the RAT was done. So, I nodded and said, "Okay. I'll tell her." Marianne smiled brightly at that.

"I'm proud of you for doing this Sam, and I have no doubt your mother will be as well." I doubted that'd the case, but nodded nevertheless.

"Now," Marianne continued, "as for the rest of the session: first, let's talk some more about your Heroic Impulse and pseudo-Sam."