*Edit: Language Code ART 5 Z
*Edit: Phonemic Representation Section 8, Names
Government Protection Agency,
"Talk to me, Farac." The voice came booming from deep space, unchallenged by the unfathomable distance it traveled from the Division HQ back home to the outskirts of the Rim, where the experiments were being performed. This transmission was so untraceable, it didn't exist, Farac knew, because that was the guideline of the entire organization: don't bother breathing, because the air doesn't know you're there. He turned a switch.
"Sir, we have completed the work on the JDS." They had. It was finished. They just had to input the final programming.
"Are you sure this time, boy? I don't want another failure on my hands, and neither do you." He hadn't said it yet. 'Remember Jerusalem I, boy.' It had been his mantra in every communication for the last 6 months. Maybe he didn't want to jinx it, now that they were this close to correcting the catastrophe with the JSS.
"Sir, we cannot fail. Really."
"Really? How's that, boy?"
"This one can lie, sir."
"You made the model untrustworthy ?" the voice gasped. He had reason to gasp, and to use such an outdated term. Before the NLP of clones was taken seriously, all models were untrustworthy - though, at the time, it was called 'equipped with free will', another archaism. Deceit, betrayal, lies, it was all at the command of beings that were, in every way possible, exact copies of real people, with the obvious consequences. Farac could feel, through the ethereal link and over the uncountable leagues, the anger and incomprehension rising, and cut in before it could start taking form in words, shouting regulations and barking sanctions.
"If you get down to the basics, Sir, you know as well as I do that
the problem with the JSS was, basically, that it was trustworthy.
Once the model was hijacked, it had no choice to remain loyal and truthful
to what it considered Authority, because it's intrinsic programming gave
it no other options. The point is, Sir, if you will let me finish, that
the JDS will remain loyal to us, not just to
Farac held his breath, and for a minute, there was total silence in the silence that should have been a conversation, if it ever had taken place.
"You better be right, boy. You better be right. You..."
"I remember Jerusalem I, Sir." He was there. He was Jerusalem I. Or had been. Or not, as a matter of fact.
"Yes." The link fell silent, and then dead, and leisurely continued it's nonexistence from before, as if nothing had happened, which it hadn't.
Farac turned from the console and went down into the Clone Room. The
entire lab was maybe three rooms big, the largest of which would have
made one of those solitary confinement
The JDS was a short, tanned man, aged 29 years, 3 months, 5 days, 45
minutes exactly according to the local solar orbit, with dark hair and
brown eyes, and a handsome face -
"JDS." The model's eyes lit up so briefly, if Farac didn't know to look for it, he would have missed it. "State your objective."
"The GPA has created this environment to test mass psychic inducements. It has chosen these people to live here, and has decreed a set of rules they should live by. If they succeed in completing this objective, they, and all their kind, will be allowed Citizenship."
"Good! Go forth, and spread the word, my beauty." Farac reached into a cabinet, and gave the man a sack, as the wall behind him opened. The JDS stepped out into the desert, looked into the sack, found some simple garments and put them on. He started walking, never looking back at the opening that had disappeared, never realizing it had ever existed, anyway.
*Descramble Priority 1