Free Time Riders: The Doomsday Code by Alex Scarrow Page B

undeveloped organic brain has produced unanticipated side-effects,’ said Becks. ‘Additional soft-coded AI sub-routines.’
    ‘Affirmative,’ replied Bob. ‘I have also noted this.’ He trawled through terabytes of data stored from months ago. ‘During my mission with Liam O’Connor, input from the organic brain allowed my AI to recalibrate mission objective priorities. I was able to make a tactical decision to save him.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘I have access to that … memory also. That was effective. Because my AI is a duplicate of yours, I benefit from that decision tree advancement.’
    She cocked her head, a lock of dark hair swinging across a face momentarily frozen in deep thought. ‘I believe a human would extend a verbal gesture of gratitude.’ Her smile was more goat-like than horse-like. ‘Thank you.’
    He acknowledged that. ‘Affirmative.’
    ‘On the last mission I observed some basic principles of humour from the humans. Would you like me to upload a joke?’
    Bob nodded. ‘Affirmative. I have very few files on humour.’
    She tilted her head and Bluetoothed several megabytes of data his way as they walked in silence. Bob blinked the data away into long-term storage and replayed a memory of jungle terrain, standing atop a cliff face and looking down at a group of nervous-looking children.
    ‘It appears you made Liam O’Connor … laugh?’
    She nodded. ‘Cluck, cluck,’ she added drily. ‘I called him and the others chickens. They laughed at this.’
    He frowned, pondering. ‘Why did they find this amusing?’
    She frowned too, puzzled. Eventually she looked up at him. ‘I do not know.’
    Sal drew up outside the front window of the store. ‘This is it,’ she said. She called the support units back to join them and they stepped inside, a musty smell of mothballs and dust tickling her nose.
    Becks and Bob led the way in, Liam following after them. ‘What sort of thing do I want?’
    ‘Large, plain coloured woollen smocks,’ replied Sal. ‘Nothing patterned.’
    Liam nodded and headed off down a cramped aisle spilling over with costumes of all sorts of colours and eras. She watched him admiring a pirate’s costume, inspecting its lace cuffs and braiding with a grin on his face. She shook her head. He looked like a kid in a toy store.
    She turned to see if there was someone in the shop she could ask for some help, and was walking back towards the shop front and the dusty front window when something caught her eye.
    Something blue. Something vaguely familiar … sitting in a wooden rocking-chair to the side of the store window. A teddy bear. She walked over, squatted down to get a better look at it.
    ‘I know you,’ she whispered, lifting one of its threadbare paws.
    She remembered this bear – this little faded blue bear – this one-eyed bear; she remembered it from somewhere, tumbling head over paws.
    Where do I know you from?
    She was pushing her mind to explore the fleeting image when Liam called out from the back of the shop. ‘Sal! Sal? Is this any good?’
    She got up and headed back into the shop’s tight warren of musty aisles to try and find him; the little bear, for now, forgotten.

CHAPTER 18

2001, New York
    Maddy looked round at the sound of the shutter rattling up. She saw four pairs of legs and then Liam ducking down and stepping into the gloom of the archway.
    Here we go.
    He stood up and waved a hand at her. ‘You should see the daft bleedin’ costumes we –’ He stopped dead. ‘Who’s this ?’
    Becks was straightening up beside him as he asked. Her cool eyes evaluated the visitor. ‘This person is Adam Lewis,’ she answered. ‘He should not be here.’
    ‘Uh-huh,’ said Maddy. ‘You can say that again.’
    Bob ducked inside. ‘Unauthorized presence.’ His deep voice filled the void. ‘He must leave immediately.’
    ‘Relax, guys,’ said Maddy. ‘He already knows too much. I can’t just turf him out.’
    Sal was the last in. She