Returning to Forward Sensor Control

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Sal knew the captain would be none to happy of his decision but it was his decision. There was really no purpose for him to go on this mission; no benefit to himself nor the mission. He would be more valuable here on QoB doing what he did best... Research... Sal knew that. He hoped after the captain was briefed on Pher's plan that he too would have to agree with his logic. That's what tumbled in his head anyway, as he made his way to his lab in the forward sensor control.

The data that they had recovered had been on his person since they had left the planet's surface. He felt for it in his pocket as he made his way across the bridge. What he had turned over to the Capricorn crew was only a copy. That was all that they had requested, all they had needed and all that Sal had given up. Standard practice for any research engineer was to always retain a copy of the original data. This insured that one could always return to the source; reset the experiment; execute a classic 'do over'. That was just what Sal had intended to do. Under the duress on Capricorn, he could have missed something. Sal thought he most likely missed quite a bit.

Sal thought back, when he was in his early teens on Mars. Every farmer had to know a bit about robotics if they were going to be successful. That was what his father had always told him and from an early age, Sal was taught the basic requirements and periodic maintenance schedules for every 'bot in his father's barn. Most of them did not have their own power generators and required recharging of their storage cells. Although the Federation had handheld gen-units that could have provided enough power to run half of his father's farm, these units were not readily available for commercial and private use. The Rosetto Estate at Milankovic was powered by a meager matter-antimatter reactor. Even this was considered state-of-the-art for its day because of the dilithium crystal regeneration process. Before this break-through, his father had to rely on an uncertain supply of dilithium just to keep them in the black. He digressed, as usual, into unrelated and obtuse thought patterns.

The 'bots, he forced himself to remember. His father had taught him quite a bit about their inner workings, their programming. It had been more than he wanted to learn at the time; held very little value to a growing teen with his head in the stars. But now Sal could see the importance. His father had taught him that artificial intelligence was essentially a collection of lower level functions (e.g. walk toward light, find home, go in a straight line, etc.). All of these functions were add-on features as far as the robot was concerned. One function could override or supplement another and if it was missing or inoperative the mechanism would simply use its default logical path.

Sal pulled out the data module and slipped it into his console. As the system acquired the data and began to organize it, Sal reached behind some cabinets and pulled out a bottle that he had stored away. It was Sorian brandy, something he had picked up from a crew member on the Verbistul on his brief visit there. It was only half full but then he had paid very little for it. The crewman had been fairly desperate for Federation credits. At the time, Sal had not given it a second thought. In his present hind sight however he imagined that there could be more to this. As he poured himself a small glass he mentally noted his thoughts for later consultation with the captain. Now he had to focus his energies on deciphering this Zoalus language and these gardeners on steroids.

Before he could hope to understand logical functions, Sal would have to grasp the Zoalus value structure, their sense of being. The drones' basic programming would be mimicking this behavior. If Pher and company had any hope to command and control these drones then they would have to reach them on this rudimentary level.

Sitting down at his console, he tapped away at the controls and began perusing the image data. The first few images were of what they believed to be a recon station for the drones. The areas that were no longer in use had been overgrown with local flora. He imagined that these we the areas normally occupied by the Zoalus and not by the drones. The drones had determined that they no longer served a purpose and therefore little attention was allotted. Then there was the large tower where the landing party had encountered the drones returning. It was some kind of refueling station for them; a place for them to upload all data to the controlling network.

Sal continued to browse the images pausing briefly at each while he remembers its significance and then moving onto the next. He finally reached the images of the Mandala Room. It was a haunting experience and Sal found himself staring hypnotically at the symbols on the walls. And the eight figures and their unique features came flooding back into his consciousness. These were the only bipedal forms depicted anywhere. The Zoalus zoology, of which they had detected over 100,000 species of fauna, was quite extensive. The Federation had encountered many class M abodes with many less. In all of the species there were no bipedal forms. This made Sal believe that perhaps the Zoalus people were not indigenous to the planet.

Focus. He had to focus. Why, out of the hundreds of images contained on his data module and the thousands of images on record, were these eight the only bipedal images? They had to be extremely important to this culture for them to purposefully exclude them from everything except this room. They had to be the rudimentary value structure that he sought. They were the foundation of the Zoalus society.

 

Opening a reference book entitled "The 7 Elements of Culture" he began to read its table of contents:

• Customs and Traditions

• Language

• Arts and Entertainment

• Religion

• Government

• Economic Systems

• Social Organizations

The way of life for an entire society includes such things as what they eat, the way they dress, the music they listen to, and how they greet each other. Cultures organize members into smaller unit so people can work together to meet basic needs. The family is the most important unit.

Sal, thought for a moment about the importance of family and the organization of these smaller units. This was how people could relate. The smaller units had commonalities that bound them together. He turned back to the Mandala Room image and stared again at the figures. Father, Warrior, Seeker, Sage, Mother, Amazon, Companion, Mediatrix. Their entire culture had evolved focusing on these eight symbolic beings. The drones had to have these entities emblazed into their memories as well.