That was good. The jury was still out as to whether the computer was actually here to help. Ivan would go along with the computer as long as that was a possibility, but if he had to subvert the computer’s plans, it was good to know he wouldn’t be exposed the moment he made the decision.

Then an image of the chrome animals again, but this time against the backdrop of an image of a galaxy. Lines from the chrome animals seemed to indicate specific locations. And there were a lot of them.

These are civilizations, Ivan realized. Galactic civilizations. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Ivan felt something like a sideways shift in his head as all the science fiction he’d ever read became, suddenly, simply fiction. And out-of-date fiction, at that.

The image vanished, then re-formed. It was the multi-system battle scene again, but this time more nuanced, more detailed. The animals were back, but not chrome. At random intervals, some of them turned to chrome. At other random intervals, hordes of Artificials showed up and apparently overran animals. But always non-chrome ones. Was uploading to nanite form a safety measure against the Artificials?

Yes.

Ivan received a strong sense of satisfaction along with the single word. Apparently, he’d finally gotten the message.

Great. The good news was that he was making progress. The bad news was that Earth was in danger from the Dishwasher Liberation Front.

Irritation.

Okay, either the computer had no sense of humor—entirely possible—or Ivan was missing part of the point with the dishwasher.

Dishwashers are Artificials.

Image of dishwasher.

Image of non-chrome mechanoids.

A.I.s? The Artificials were A.I.s?

Satisfaction.

So Ivan had been right. There was a war. A galactic war, apparently. And biological life was on the defensive.

That couldn’t be good.

Aren’t you an A.I.?

No. Sense of self is specifically contraindicated.

Oh, great. The computer was getting more of a vocabulary. Had Ivan used that word? Had he thought it? No, it had been one of the doctors. So, the computer saw and heard what Ivan saw and heard.

And what the heck did that statement mean, anyway? A sense of self was—oh. Consciousness. The computer was not an A.I., because it had no sense of self. Therefore, no ambition, or personal agenda.

Okay, that was a subject for later. For now, what about the War Against the Dishwashers? For the moment, it seemed a good idea to go along with the computer’s agenda. If Ivan’s understanding was even close to correct, it would mean the computer was here to protect humanity.

Well, caution was still called for. He wouldn’t overcommit, but he could make some preparations. If he had to leave, he doubted the military would hold the door open for him.

Do you have a name?

That would require a sense of self.

You still need a unique designation.