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*Experiment 261 * © LavaBat 2014

Foreward

Special thanks go to Vikki (rubbervixen @ FA) for proofreading this story, and for the invaluable advice, ideas, and encouragement along the way as well.

Glossary

Cherry: South African slang term for a girl.

EIRA: The Emergent Intelligence Rights Association is a left-wing organization established in the last century with the mandate of monitoring the development of sentient AI to advocate and ensure its ethical treatment.

Chapter 1: A Research Proposal

Lukas Cornelius "LC" Van de Wetering had overslept. The male Doberman groaned and whined as he got up and made his way to his kitchen by cutting through his living room, cleaning his glasses on his shirt as he went. LC was fit and active, but his body was starting to show its age. The fur around his eyes, once a rich brown colour, was starting to fade, and grey fur was appearing on the end of his muzzle. The fur on his hands, feet, and underside was fading as well. And the black fur that covered most of his body was starting to look more dark grey than black. His friends often told him that he had aged quite well, but LC hated getting older. He didn't feel like he was the handsome, virile young man he remembered being and wanted to be again. Despite how he felt about his age, he was in very good health for someone in his mid-fifties. He also looked a lot younger than he actually was.

Coffee, breakfast, messages... was his train of thought as he entered his kitchen. When the coffee was made, he took the time to savour the scent. He had barely taken a sip when the phone rang. He sighed and growled softly as he walked over and looked at the communication system's touch screen. It was a rectangular shaped plastic tablet with rounded edges, with an inbuilt stand that allowed it to be adjusted so that the screen could be seen while he was standing. One of his smart-phones was in the recess in the left side of the device. It was convenient storage, and allowed it to be used like an old fashioned phone from nearly four hundred years earlier. He could just pick it up and talk if he wanted to. But he always preferred to see who was calling first. The caller was Cornelius "Cor" Bekker, the director of GeneTech, and LC's employer. Despite turning forty only a few days earlier, the Raccoon looked older than LC. He was also obviously hung over. The glass of water and ant acid give it away.

LC pried the smart-phone out of the recess with his claws. "Hi there, Cor. Something wrong? Not like you to call like this."

Cornelius was short, sharp, and sweet, as usual; "We need to have a meeting on a matter of urgency. I am emailing you the location. It's in a suburban location. Nondescript. If anyone asks the meeting never officially took place, and neither did this call."

LC was surprised, and intrigued, by this unexpected turn of events. "...Oh...kay..."

Cornelius rubbed his eyes and made a confession of sorts. "We're in a mess. Too much alcohol at a recent...function. You're the only hope the company has. I will explain it all when you get to the meeting."

Cornelius hung up before LC could even say goodbye.

'Damn prick' thought LC, 'c_alls me on a day off, makes me go to a meeting about fuck knows what...well he can just wait!'_ LC took his time to finish his coffee, and his breakfast, not to mention responding to his backlog of messages in his inbox. He also took his time to select his clothes for the day - a long sleeved dark blue button up shirt, black dress pants and his favourite polished leather boots. When he finally got to the address that Cornelius had given him he was three hours late. The address certainly was nondescript alright. If it had been anymore nondescript it would have looked suspicious for the two sports vehicles parked in the drive. But it was at least a middle class home in a middle class area.

Cornelius greeted LC on the small porch and led him inside, through the foyer, past the stairs, and into the main living room. It was well furnished. There was an entertainment system, a large sofa with two matching sofa chairs, a coffee table, and two large bookcases. One was filled with books, one with high definition optical data storage disks. Looking to his right, LC saw a large kitchen table with matching chairs next to the kitchen. The black cotton curtains were drawn, partly to keep out the bright sunlight from outside, but mostly to ensure no one could see who was inside. The house's lights had dimmed, making the inside very dim. It was bright enough to move around, even bright enough to read, but still too dim for LC's liking. But he had no intention of altering the light setting, especially when it was set by the man who employed him.

Cornelius was not clearly amused by the Doberman's tardiness, but he tried to not let it get to him. He had bigger concerns than this arrogant geneticist with an ego too big for the building they were in.

Cornelius sat down in a sofa chair, and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "OK, here's the situation. I was at a party, getting drunk because I reached the 'big 4-0'...sounds stupid when you consider people live to 125 on average..."

Cornelius yawned then got to the point. "I got so drunk I blurted out at some point that GeneTech's technology was advanced enough to make artificial sapient species."

LC frowned slightly as he sat on the arm of the sofa. "That technology is being developed as we speak."

Cornelius cringed at LC. "Being developed, not currently exists. That's the point. And now the major shareholders know about the claim. Anyway, I will not let the truth bring down this company...or me. And that is why I called you."

LC tiled his head sideways. His mood had lightened. He even seemed interested in what he was being told. Cornelius noticed this, and smiled wearily as he continued. "You start work on a new project immediately. To hide it on the ledgers, we'll file it under an old experiment number: 261. There were so many overruns on that flop no one will question the additional invoicing. Money is no object with this one. I need you to make something which can be passed off as an artificial species. It just has to pass the bullshit test until we crack the technology needed to make the genuine article."

LC, leaning back in his seat, tented his fingers. "The committees will want the details of the process as soon as we announce, you know. The EIRA will want to know we're not torturing some poor 1's and 0's."

Cornelius waved his hands dismissively, "When the committees ask for the details, we'll stall them with the legal department - tell them we're still sorting out the patent issues. I don't care what you do nor how you do it, just do it."

LC's mood lightened when he was told what Experiment 261 was, and he was almost happy when he was told money was no object. He could at least work on something worthy of his time! His mind raced with possibilities and ideas as Cornelius stood up and gave him a credit card with a small display screen and a data stick.

"What's this?" asked LC.

"One's a credit card. You use it to buy things. The other is a data stick. People use them to store files" Cornelius replied with a smirk. "Seriously, it's your funding for Experiment 261. Spend it wisely. You won't get any more. The data stick has information about two different safe houses. This is one of them. You might need them."

"Sweet!" was all that LC said in reply to Cornelius.

Cornelius turned and left the building. He was a little unsteady on his feet. As soon as the Raccoon was outside the building LC turned up the house's lights. He got up from the seat he was in and lounged on the sofa. He then took a closer look at the credit card he had been given. It was a non-secured, single use type of card; the kind that is given a set amount of credit at a bank. Anyone could use it, but no one could add credit back to it. It was a useful way to give a kid some money as an allowance. He pressed the display button. His eyes widened at the read out.

Five million Rand.

LC spent the next few hours thinking. How was he going to create something convincing, yet worth of his time and effort? Genetically modifying someone would make the challenge worth his while. While most of the genetic modifications would be merely cosmetic, he could use a retrovirus to do some real 'heavy lifting' and actually incorporate a significant amount of some non-sentient animal into the...test subject. LC closed his eyes and frowned as he started to sketch out his plan in more detail. 'I will need to use epigenetic techniques when doing the actual modifications...Manipulation of the chromosomal DNA in a mature organism would be either inadvisable at best, or would achieve nothing...The test subject would need...the test subject...how the hell will I get a test subject?' LC did something that he had always done when in deep thought and when under stress. He chewed on the prong of his classes. He has once been hear what those things were called. There was a specific name for them...LC dismissed the thought and turned his mind to how he was going to get hold of a test subject.

The first thing which came to his mind was to hire some private security contractors. While the South African government had clamped down on the previously under regulated industry over a century ago, there were still some smaller private security companies and private contractors who would take any work, no questions asked. You just had to know which companies to go to, and whom to ask. He sat up and commanded the house AI to bring up the dark net on the entertainment system.

The dark net did have legitimate purposes. It was used by legitimate governments, law enforcement agencies, private citizens and businesses to store and share information - you simply had to be privileged enough to know what site to go to. But it was also infamous for the way criminals used to advertise 'services' ranging from money laundering, to contract killing, to cyber-attacks for hire, to drugs and contraband chemicals. If it existed, it was on the dark net somewhere. LC verbally selected a search engine, and soon found a site offering a variety of services. None were suitable.

While reading though one of the better private security companies advertising on the dark net LC recalled a private contractor he had interviewed three or four years ago when he was working on a high profile project that required him to hire a bodyguard. Although he didn't hire Piet Gouws for the job back then, the shady Wolf had stuck in his mind. He had claimed to have military experience, and he did seem to have some military skills. More importantly he had hinted that he was prepared to do much more than security work - if the price was right. A quick search of the regular internet turned up his contact details. LC sent a message saying that he needed someone to do a job, the kind that pays very well. He was not expecting a reply for a while, and commanded the house AI to tell him the time. It was 11:23am. He then commanded the house AI to show him the local café, restaurants, and clubs with four star or better reviews. While he was deciding which club to go to for lunch, he got a message on his phone. It was Piet. He was interested in discussing the job, and suggested they meet at the Night Life, a club that was not too far out of the way from LC's home. A private VIP room had already been booked. Piet said in the message that he would have a trusted friend with him. LC smiled. He had been to the Night Life before. It was a little lower class than he liked, but the food was excellent and the prices were great. And who cares if he had to pay two people to get a test subject? The company was paying.

LC returned to his sports car and drove home. He needed to dress down. Formal business wear would look a little out of place on the Night Life. Cargo pants, an old dress shirt, an old tactical jacket, and hiking shoes would be more suitable. The bleached bone coloured cargo pants contrasted nicely to the brown tactical jacket which was designed to look like an ordinary jacket. The numerous chest pockets were what made it one of LC's favourite jackets. No matter what he was carrying, there was always room in one of the pockets.

Once he was more appropriately dressed, LC made his way to the Night Life. It was much livelier that LC had hoped for! There were many people of various species, all enjoying the good food and cheap drinks. While LC did not pay too much attention to the species present, some did stand out. There were a pair of Kangaroos, which were not especially common, and there was a particularly buxom porcupine who gave him a saucy wink. LC smiled back and hoped she would still be there when he got back from his meeting with Piet. _'I could use some exotic company tonight'_thought the Doberman. Though he did have some reservations about the quills he might have to contend with.

After checking at the front desk LC was shows to the VIP room by a Vampire bat.LC much preferred the softer appearance of Fruit bats, with their rounded ears, shorter canine teeth, and shorter snouts to the sharp, angular features of the Vampires. He was led was upstairs and overlooking the dance floor below. The young man gestured with his hand to show LC which VIP room was the one Piet was in. LC thanked him and waited for the boy to leave. As soon as the Vampire had left he knocked.

"Who is it?" asked a voice from inside.

"LC" he replied.

The door was unlocked and opened. LC stepped inside. A Wolf in his mid thirties with distinctive scars on his muzzle greeted him. It was Piet Gouws.

Piet was polite and softly spoken. "It's been a while LC. By the way, allow me to introduce a trusted friend, Terence Khumalo."

Another Wolf stepped forwards and shook LC's hand. He looked like he was a teenager. But his bearing gave away his military training. LC was instantly jealous of this baby-faced individual. He looked young enough to be in high school! LC smiled, hoping that his jealousy hadn't showed.

The brief introduction over, Piet motioned for everyone to sit at the table. Piet had searched the room several times to make sure there were no cameras or microphones. While he had no reason to suspect the club of illegally recording what went on in the VIP rooms, he could think of no reason to assume that they were not. And it was better to be safe than sorry. Fortunately nothing was found. And it was not easy to hear what was being said inside the room from the outside - even if the eavesdropper had their ear against the door. Piet was casual, just as LC remembered him. "So, what do you want done? Not the ordinary kind of job I wager."

LC smirked. "I am glad I am not a betting man. I need you to acquire someone for me. It doesn't matter who. Male or female is fine, just as long as they are not old or crippled or anything like that. Why is not important."

Piet raised an eyebrow, and Terrance looked very confused. They both turned to each other and said something in Zulu. LC didn't understand what they said. Nor did he care. Piet mulled it over for a while before agreeing.

Piet scratched under his chin. "How much is this job worth to you? It will cost more simply because of the...nature of the job."

LC made his offer. "Fifty thousand Rand. Half now, half when the test subject is delivered"

Piet slowly smiled. "Deal. Where do you want us to deliver the...subject?"

LC messaged an address to Piet's phone. Piet nodded after reading the address and looking at its location on an overlap secured to a map of Johannesburg that was lying on the table. LC only then noticed the handgun and the bottle of rum next to the map. He was unnerved by the fact that he hadn't notices the gun there before. He hoped it didn't show.

LC made the twenty five thousand Rand 'down payment' using the credit card Cornelius has given him and his smart phone. He then left the room.

After he left Terrance could not help but ask "Test subject? The fuck?"

Piet snorted. "Who cares?"