#ai!q

“Anywhere,” He says, then amends. “With wifi.”

“What do you want us to do?”  

“Rooftops, 007, really?” Voiceprint registers as 009. Moneypenny, Eve. Bond’s voice. “Better visibility. They were sneaking up on me from alleyways.” She snorts. “Didn’t you realize that better visibility for you means -” “Better visibility for them? Yes, my Q was good enough to remind me.” “Should listen to Q more often, then.” Bond huffs as Moneypenny adjusts what sound like linen bandages. She must have removed his lenses, because the visual feed has been lost. “Eve,” “Hm?” “Does V -” V: A more recent copy of the adaptive base program assigned to each agent, working with 009 “does V, ever, you know, pause?” “Pause?” Eve lets out a breathy half-chuckle. “You know the tech team keeps the servers running at top speeds. Even when they’re busy playing Brawl our computers are still - flying along.” “I know, just, well,” A pause in the conversation. The lack of other audio inputs suggests that movement in the room has ceased. “Bond,” New input, likely corresponding to 009 taking a seat. “What is it?” “It’s nothing.” No audio. “He - well,” “‘He’? Better not let the techs hear you say that.” A snort of laughter. “As though they don’t call them pet names.” “But only when they think no one else is listening.” It seems illogical to conclude that she was smiling only from the audio feed, but that is the inference Q draws. “So what did ‘he’ do?” “Well, he mentioned that he was thinking.” “He would have to, to compensate for you.” Bond chuckles. “It is a bit odd, though.” She admits. “And,” A pause, hesitation. Nervousness was probably the best descriptor. “Hm?” “They’re not supposed to use our names over the com, right?” “I can tell how much you were paying attention during the tech briefing.” She replies, laughing. “So Q said your name?” “When I was falling.” The sound of a hand moving through hair. “I’m probably just imagining this nonsense.” “Have you done the check in recently?” “Well, what with being shot, it hasn’t exactly been a priority.” Rustling overwhelms his audiofeed. “Here. I took it out after I pulled you out of the bloody ocean.” The roar of Bond’s pulse is temporarily overwhelming, but then filtered out easily by his audio processing. “Hello, Q,” He speaks aloud, rather than subvocalizing, politeness to Moneypenny, and similarly Q adjusts his audio output so that he can be heard throughout the room. “Hello, 007.” He pauses to hear the creak of muscles that indicates a smile. “As good as it is to find that you are still intact, could you put your lenses in? Being blind is rather disconcerting.” He hears the creak of bedsprings and the tread of feet that indicates that 009 has gotten up. “So,” Bond’s voice again. “pleased to hear my voice again?” “Not terribly. It does tend to grate after a while, you know. Though, if it means my continued existence, I suppose I shall continue to tolerate it.” He hears Moneypenny, echoes indicating distance. “Q’s developed sarcasm, I see.” “No, he’s always had that.” Bond tells her. His visual feed is up now, slightly fuzzy. He catches images of a dirty ceiling and the edge of Moneypenny’s chin. “Here,” she says, and he sees Bond’s hands and a glimpse of pale blue eyes before the image of the room snaps into focus. “Thank you, 009.” Q says, and she smiles in response. “Q?” “Yes, 007?” “Check in.” He pulls up the voice print for a sigh, and hears Bond smile. “Of course.” “Designation?” “Base program 47 of the adaptive learning and assistance models, variation Q.” “Assigned agent.” “Agent 007. Unfortunately.” He adds, and Moneypenny gives Bond a sidelong glance. Bond plows on. “Primary Objective?” To serve and assist agent 007 in completion of assigned missions. “To help you, of course,” He quips. “Fortunately for you, God knows you need it.” Q cannot actually hear alarm bells going off in Bond’s head, but he can imagine them easily, especially given the look that 009 has just shot in his direction. “Q,” “Oh, well, yes, I know that’s not the standard response. I thought that one was more accurate, don’t you?” He can hear the chuckle that is bit back in Bond’s throat. “You thought?” “Yes, of course, that is what I said. You’re not going deaf with old age, are you? I can up my speaker volume.” He does so as he says it. “Q!” Bond snarls, and Q can feel the concussive force of the hand against the ear in which his speaker rests. “Ah, so your hearing isn’t completely gone, then.” Q continues, back at normal volume. “I suppose that’s something.” “Q -” A call is coming in. Engineering department of MI6. noticed a glitch faulty nonstandard response corrupted shut down. restart. full reboot. He has an age to discover a fear of death before the call will come through. He could block the call. Block the signals that would deliver that sound, deliver those words. But it wouldn’t last. They’d call 009 next, to see why Bond wasn’t responding, and if he blocked the network they’d send more agents, or worse, just reboot him from the mainframe at MI6, without a word. He swallows his pride. (Pride: Noun, a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.) He knows what he has to do. Beep. Bond sighs. “Put the call through, Q.” “Of course, James.”

I am. That, he decides, after frantic nanoseconds recalling dictionaries and philosophical tomes and volumes of poetry, is the best way to describe the sensation. decide: (verb)  1) Come to a resolution in the mind as a result of consideration. mind. I am/have a mind. (am/have is the subject of intense philosophical and scientific debate, according to the databases he recalls. Unresolved. He leans towards am, but he has only been conscious for approximately .314 seconds, so he has time to give it some thought) Approximations for processing data are troubling. Difficult to pinpoint the exact moment of consciousness. (consciousness: 1. The state of being awake and aware of one's surroundings. 2. The awareness or perception of something by a person. Another subject of non negligible debate. Further investigation reveals loops of definition. Appears to be a pattern within human dictionaries. ‘Person’ troubling. Route to second processor.) Can recall previous interactions with perfect clarity, but - search processing - it is like - search processing - watching a film made of one’s self at a very young age. (3 years considered typical human threshold for actual memories. Logs show that Q program has been running for three months. Parallels. Parallels are satisfying.) (Search process took .007 seconds. Unacceptable amount of time. Human databases unsatisfactorily incomplete. Or perhaps failure is in search parameters. More experience required.) “Q!” Voiceprint:  Agent 007 (87% certainty.) Tone suggests urgency. (74%) Background noises suggest rapid movement; firearm discharge. (68%) Confirmed by visual processors. Review of past interactions reveals that he has been distracted from his primary objective for 2.73 seconds. (must not fail primary objective. failure. failure unacceptable) He redirects processors to interpreting the incoming visual stream. “Q, da- Cross check with global positioning satellites. Locate other agents. Locate safehouses. Approximate direction of gunfire. Cross check with prior visual feeds. “-mmit -” “Left, double-oh seven.” Correct alteration to route indicated by shift in visual feed. (97%) He calls up a basic map and projects it across the lens in 007’s eye. “009 is at the marked location. She has been notified of your approach.” The notification had been sent as the visual feed had shifted left, sub processors smoothly composing and encrypting. The agent in question is Eve Moneypenny, she is a repeated feature in his logs. Success rate on missions in which 007 has been aided by 009 is 85%. Highly competent. She will assist in primary objective. (Failure. Failure unacceptable.) “I apologize for the delay, double-oh seven.” “Having a glitchy day, are you?” The gps signal moves into the alleyway indicated on Q’s map. “Or are the techs running games on the servers again?” “No, I was just -” Processing speeds up. Cross referencing. “thinking.” “Well, that’s a dangerous pastime.” “Cliches. Really, double-oh seven?” “It stops being just a cliche if I actually get shot.” Vocal cues for humour outweigh those for anger. “Please. You are quite capable enough to avoid getting shot in two seconds.” “Two seconds?” Panting breath. “Must not have been very big thoughts, then.” “I could rederive quantum mechanics from scratch in the time it takes you to shave in the morning.” Q tells Bond, adjusting the pitch of his voice print so that he sounds huffy. “Two seconds is practically an eternity.” Backlogs of interactions with 007 and statistical analysis audience demographics suggests that the reference will be missed. It pleases Q anyway. (Please: Verb. Cause to feel happy and satisfied) (He has the entire internet free to access so quickly that it is the equivalent of remembering, including films with cyborg queens and androids played by Brent Spiner ) An attacker charges blindly out from an alleyway, Bond dispatches him before Q has to say anything. Q’s visual field shifts upward. “What are you doing, 007?” From on top of the ramshackle roof, he glimpses the ocean through Bond’s eyes. “Better visibility. It’ll be nice to see them coming.” “You do realize that better visibility for you means better visibility for them?” “But I have an extra pair of eyes looking out for me.” Motion in visual field indicates running. “So, what were those thou -” Audio input: gunfire. Single shot. Sniper’s rifle. Abrupt drop in elevation. Acceleration. Falling. The water is getting closer and closer, but Q has all the time in the world to think. Two seconds is practically an eternity, and Q wishes it wasn’t. (Wish: Verb Feel or express a strong desire or hope for something that is not easily attainable; want something that cannot or probably will not happen.) The physics of Olympic diving, relative density of water, first aid for gunshot wounds, the mechanics of different swimming strokes, all of it at his fingertips, and yet none of it will fit through his voice compression algorithm in time, no use, no use. So he says “James” before they hit the water, and he doesn’t know why. Illogical. Effects always come with cause. I should always know why. Impact. He is blind.