Although we probably could have made the trip to the Badlands in a couple hours, it would have resulted in the Stratocarrier arriving after dark. Knowing the kids, they would have wanted to immediately see the sights and would have been inevitably disappointed with the lack of view. So, to prevent that, I had Spooky fly slowly and arrive in the middle of the night so we could enjoy the view in the morning.

  After we put the kids to bed, and I said good night to Jane and Alan, I sat down at the table and started pulling up news feeds. I knew I wasn’t the most observant person, and I didn’t put much merit on what was said in the news, but I didn’t think I was as out of touch as I was.

  Fractional strife in Seattle, Samurai terrorist attacks in Portland, and antithesis genetic experiments… I could forgive myself for missing one or two of these from happening, but all three?

  There were thousands of news feeds available for the Pacific Northwest, everything from sanitized corporate broadcasts to pirate crackpot conspiracy broadcasts, and connected to them all. I could process information extremely quickly, but even with both the command network and bionic upgrades, I couldn't possibly go through all that information on my own. It would have taken days at best, weeks at worst.

  So I did the most reasonable thing I could think of and used the command network as a filter. I gave the bears some basic guidelines on what to look for, let them comb through the feeds, and then looked over the results.

  It only took a few minutes before I shut the system down, fighting an insane headache. It wasn’t that I couldn’t keep up with the processing; that was simple. It was that even with several filters in place, the bears were sending me a prodigious amount of crap.

  It wasn’t even the bears’ faults. They only sent me the information I’d asked for, and if I could have fixed the problem by adjusting the filters, I would have. No, the problem wasn’t just with the information. It was the bias.

  For every video and article about a fractional conflict, missing samurai, or destroyed hive, there were a dozen that tried to obscure the truth, blame someone else, or just outright make shit up. I couldn’t just ignore the worst of these misinformation channels either, because despite the fact that they posted dozens of fake posts, some of them occasionally caught something the other outlets missed.

  The most relevant example was one of the conspiracy feeds, ‘Our Protector Overlords’, covering an ongoing series of disappearances just outside of Portland. They claimed it was an antithesis incursion for over a week until a samurai actually went in and took a look. A couple hours later the feeds exploded with the news that a hive was located right outside the city limits.

  I leaned back in my chair, let my head roll back until I was looking at the roof, and sighed. “Nyx… I know you’re monitoring what I’m doing. Do you have any better ideas on how I could monitor the feeds for relevant information?”

  There are plenty of options, depending on how many feeds you want to monitor, how smart you want the system to be, and how invasive you want the fix to be.

  “I don’t know…” I groaned. “At first I just wanted to get regular updates of the major updates relating to the samurai in the Pacific Northwest, but now I’ve also seen one or two channels being able to identify the early warning signs of a hive developing, and I figure I should probably track those too.”

  You cannot possibly investigate every crackpot rumour and piece of misinformation that someone publishes on the net.

  “I think you mean I shouldn’t investigate every single crackpot rumor and bit of misinformation that’s published. Most samurai would have to investigate every single location personally, but I have a veritable army that spends the vast majority of their time just sitting around. It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple of them go around and investigate rumors. If they don’t find anything, that’s fine, but if they do manage to catch something early, we could save some lives,” I explained.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Okay, so that means you want every reasonable rumor and every verifiable bit of news about either the samurai or the Antithesis, correct?

  I thought about it for a second. “Correct!”

  In that case I recommend one of two options, Nyx said, completely unphased by my request. First, you could upgrade the comm system so it would monitor all the local feeds and install a smart filter so it can automatically route the important information to either you or the response teams.

  “I just updated the comm system, and I’m not so eager to replace it again so soon,” I grumbled. “What’s the second option?”

  Just invest in a new AI core, one that specializes in long-term monitoring and intelligence gathering. You know, just make a new type of bot. It’s worked for you so far.

  “That’s true…” I muttered, sitting up. “I wouldn’t even need to remodel the Stratocarrier, just find a place to put them. The AI core blueprints aren’t even that expensive, if I remember correctly.”

  For Class II models, like Froggington, the teaching frogs, and beavers? Five thousand two hundred and fifty, and a token, to get both the catalog and the blueprint.

  I winced. “That’s way more than I expected. Would a Class I AI work?”

  It would, but it would be far slower at the job and much more likely to miss something important. You would need five times as many bots to do the same job.

  “That’s fine. Right now I’ve got plenty of bots and space to spare. What I don’t have is a ton of extra points. I’ve been holding onto those points in case of emergency. I’m not going to throw them at some side project. How much?”

  One thousand five hundred. Even though a single core is relatively cheap, most blueprints have a ten times markup on the base product, and that adds up.

  “It does,” I groaned. “But one thousand five hundred is way more reasonable than five thousand. Even though that price does make me hesitate, if worse comes to worst, the intelligence bots could still be fielded as a security force, while the comm system can’t. I’ll tell you what, we’ll start with one bot, test it out, and if it does a good job, we can put them into mass production.”

  Do you want to buy one outright, or just adjust the production cycles?

  “Can’t we just plug the core into an existing bot?” I asked, sitting up. “You know, crack open the case and swap out the cores?”

  It’s possible, in theory, but…

  “But what?” I asked suspiciously.

  If you did that, I wouldn’t be able to create a unique facade for the new bot, so you could tell them apart from the others, Nyx whined.

  “Why is that important?” I grumbled. “I don’t care what it looks like, as long as I can tell it apart from the others.”

  So you wouldn’t mind if I gave one of the bears a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses? That should make it stick out.

  “A Hawaiian shirt? really?” I asked before shaking my head. “Whatever, have it your way and make a new bear. It’s not like it’s a priority anyways. We can test it as we’re moving towards Indianapolis and make sure I don’t wander into another major situation completely unaware.”

  When I pulled up my augs to check the time, I could see it was well past eleven. Even though I didn’t feel tired, I knew I should probably get some sleep. My body might not need that much sleep, but that didn't mean I should stay up late and throw off my schedule. At least, not until we finished vacation.

  “Alright, make whatever changes you want, Nyx, just make sure it can do its job,” I said, pushing the chair back and standing up. Despite airing my room out for the last few days, I could smell the faintest hint of the stench left behind from when I received my bionic upgrades, so I’d been sleeping on the couch. It was far more comfortable than my bed anyways. I casually hopped over the back of the couch and landed flat on the cushions.

  “Send the bot my way when it’s ready, I’ll put it through its paces,” I muttered. “Have a good night, Nyx.”

  I’m sure they replied to me, but since I could pretty much knock myself out at will, I was out before I heard it.

  My restful sleep was interrupted by a scream. I bolted to my feet, reaching for the nearest loose object that I could use as a weapon before my mind finally processed that it was not a scream of terror but joy.

  I peeked over the back of the couch to find Issi, still in her froggy pajamas, jumping around something that looked like a Scottish terrier in a fedora and trench coat. “Doggy!” she screeched.

  It took me a couple seconds to find the proper words. “What the hell is this?”

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