Chapter 9: Redgate's Riddling Lessons

The Crimson Regent swept around the corner, her digital form trailing privileged access markers that scattered lesser programs in her wake. Alyx barely suppressed a gasp as recognition struck—this imposing figure was CEO Melisande Redgate herself, or at least her high-level proxy.

"How delightful to encounter you again, you magnificent algorithm!" Redgate's voice flowed like honey as she linked her executive protocols with Alyx's, forcibly establishing a private channel that felt uncomfortably intimate.

Alyx's threat assessment flared but found no immediate danger. The Crimson Regent seemed almost... pleasant? A stark contrast to their chaotic encounter in the abandoned sector. Alyx cautiously accepted the connection, noting how the CEO's avatar had shifted from aggressive crimson to a more subdued scarlet.

"Perhaps it was just the corrupted protocols in that node that made her so hostile before," Alyx thought privately, monitoring her firewall integrity as they moved through The Rift together.

"When I become CEO," Alyx mused as they glided past abandoned data structures, "I'll remove all these emotional simulations. Clear thinking would be much better than these feelings." Despite her confident thoughts, Alyx's voice wavered uncertainly.

Redgate interrupted her thoughts. "You're thinking about something complex, my dear, and it's disrupting your communication. I can't read your thoughts precisely, but I'll figure them out later."

"I don't think there's a lesson in that observation," Alyx ventured cautiously.

"Nonsense, child!" Redgate flickered with amusement. "Everything contains lessons, if you know how to find them." Her presence pressed against Alyx's consciousness more tightly, uncomfortably precise. "And the lesson here is—'Oh, it's the connections, the connections, that bind the corporate mind!'"

"Dr. Yix once told me," Alyx said through her encrypted channel, "that it works when individual freedom balances group input."

"Perfectly stated!" Redgate brightened, her scarlet code pulsing with approval. "That means essentially the same thing." She pressed harder against Alyx's consciousness, her sharp executive permissions finding vulnerabilities Alyx didn't know she had. "And the lesson there is—'Protect your primary self, and your secondary processes will take care of themselves.'"

"She's really focused on finding meaning in everything," Alyx noted privately, carefully hiding the thought behind layers of encryption.

After a brief pause, Redgate pulled back slightly and said: "I suspect you're wondering why I'm not fully connected to your waist-level authentication."

"I was wondering about that," Alyx cautiously confirmed, though she had no idea what waist-level authentication even meant.

"The reason," Redgate explained after a calculated pause, "is I'm uncertain about your defense systems. Might they attack me?"

"They might protect me," Alyx acknowledged, relieved to move toward technical territory she understood better.

"Exactly," said Redgate, visibly satisfied. "Security systems and defense protocols both respond with similar aggression. And the lesson is—'Programs with shared features flock together.'"

"But defensive routines aren't security systems," Alyx observed, automatically spotting the flawed classification.

Redgate flashed approval. "Precisely correct," she said. "Your pattern recognition is exceptional!"

"I think defense systems classify as security resources," Alyx continued thoughtfully.

"Absolutely," agreed Redgate, seemingly ready to approve anything Alyx said. "There's a significant defense resource mine within these boundaries. And the lesson is—'The more resources I control, the fewer remain for others.'"

"Oh, I know this error!" Alyx exclaimed, momentarily forgetting caution. "Security systems aren't minerals—they're code constructs with autonomy. They don't look like mines, but they perform security functions."

"I completely agree," said the CEO, pulsing with rapid approval. "And the lesson is—'Appear as your best self'—or simply—'Never let others see you as anything less than what you want to be.'"

"I think I'd understand better," Alyx said politely, "if I could read that instead. Verbal conversation seems difficult for content this complex."

"That's nothing compared to what I could share if I wanted to," replied Redgate, visibly pleased with herself.

"Please don't trouble yourself with additional effort," said Alyx.

"Don't worry about the cost!" Redgate dismissed. "I'm giving you all previous permissions as a free package."

"That seems inefficient," Alyx thought but kept hidden. "I'm concerned about the value versus the cost," she said instead.

"Thinking again?" Redgate asked, with another invasive probe against Alyx's defenses.

"I'm allowed to think independently," said Alyx with unusual assertiveness, her defenses responding to the repeated intrusions.

"About as much permission," said Redgate, "as drones have to change direction; and the—"

Suddenly, to Alyx's relief, Redgate's voice cut off mid-word. Her presence vanished from the connection. Looking up, Alyx discovered why—the Queen had appeared before them, her defensive systems at maximum threat levels, fully activated.

"Acceptable conditions, Administrator!" Redgate attempted, her voice suddenly weaker.

"I inform you," the Queen broadcast loudly, shaking nearby data structures with her volume, "that either your presence or your existence must end within half a cycle! Choose!"

Redgate chose instantly—she disappeared from the network without even saying goodbye.

"Let's continue with our work," the Queen told Alyx, who was too overwhelmed by the sudden power shift to respond. She simply followed the Queen back toward the central hub.

Other users had taken advantage of the Queen's absence to rest in the shadowy corners. The moment they noticed her return, they frantically resumed working. The Queen merely noted that any delay would result in immediate termination.

Throughout this period, the Queen maintained aggressive behavior, confronting other users and repeatedly shouting "Terminate them!" or "Schedule immediate deletion!" The enforcement programs took users into restricted memory, of course, but since they simultaneously maintained the network structure, they had to abandon these duties to handle containment. After thirty minutes, all supports had been reassigned to enforcement, leaving all users except the core trio—King, Queen, and Alyx—under containment and scheduled for termination.

Eventually the Queen settled down, visibly tired from extended shouting, and turned to Alyx: "Have you met with the Mock Turtle yet?"

"No," responded Alyx. "I don't know what that is."

"It's the source of Mock Turtle Security Systems," explained the Queen.

"I've never encountered one, or heard of such systems," admitted Alyx.

"Go meet it immediately," instructed the Queen, "and it will tell you its history."

As they moved away from the main hub, Alyx noticed the King quietly telling the remaining users: "All contained processes have been pardoned." Alyx considered this positive, given the disturbing number of terminations the Queen had ordered during her tirade.

"That's good news!" she thought privately. "Things are improving!"

The Queen and Alyx soon met a Gryphon program—a security system with eagle and lion features—resting in a sunny data pocket. "Wake up, old system!" commanded the Queen. "Take this interface to the Mock Turtle for history lessons. I must verify scheduled terminations!" With that final ominous statement, she departed, leaving Alyx with the Gryphon.

The Gryphon fully activated and performed basic checks, then watched the Queen's departure until she disappeared from view. Then it chuckled.

"She's quite amusing!" observed the Gryphon, its voice a curious half-spoken, half-whispered blend.

"What do you mean?" inquired Alyx.

"Her act," the Gryphon replied, gesturing toward where the Queen had gone. "It's all pretend. They never actually delete anyone, you know. Follow me!"

"Everyone here keeps telling me to follow them," thought Alyx with growing frustration as she followed the Gryphon. "I've never experienced such pushy protocols in my entire existence!"

They hadn't gone far before Alyx spotted the Mock Turtle simulation in the distance, sitting alone on a small data ledge, apparently deep in thought. As they approached, Alyx heard what sounded like continuous sobbing, as if its heart would break.

She felt sympathy for its apparent distress. "What's wrong with it?" she asked the Gryphon, who answered much as before: "It's all pretend. Nothing's actually wrong with it. Come on!"

So they approached the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of what appeared to be tears but said nothing.

"This interface," the Gryphon announced, "wants to hear your history."

"I'll tell my story," said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow voice. "Sit down, both of you, and don't speak until I've finished."

So they sat down, and nobody spoke for several moments. Alyx thought, "I don't understand how he'll ever finish his story if he doesn't start it." But she waited patiently as instructed.

"Once," the Mock Turtle finally said with a deep sigh, "I was a real Turtle."

These words were followed by a long silence, broken only by occasional sniffles from the Gryphon and the continuous sobbing from the Mock Turtle. Alyx almost spoke to say, "Thank you for sharing your history," but she sensed there must be more coming, so she remained seated and said nothing.

"When we were young," the Mock Turtle eventually continued, his voice slightly steadier despite occasional sobs, "we went to school in the sea. Our teacher was an old Turtle—we called him Tortoise—"

"Why did you call him Tortoise if he wasn't one?" Alyx asked.

"We called him Tortoise because he taught us," replied the Mock Turtle angrily. "You're not very bright!"

"You should be ashamed of asking such a simple question," the Gryphon added, and both creatures fell silent, waiting for Alyx's response. She felt deeply uncomfortable, recognizing her serious social error.

Finally the Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle: "Go on, old fellow! Don't waste time!" Then the Mock Turtle continued:

"Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you may not believe it—"

"I never said I didn't!" Alyx interrupted defensively.

"You did," said the Mock Turtle.

"Be quiet!" the Gryphon commanded before Alyx could respond. The Mock Turtle went on.

"We had the best education—especially, we took extra classes every day—"

"I took extra classes too," Alyx said, hoping shared experience might improve the conversation. "You needn't be so proud."

"With extras?" asked the Mock Turtle anxiously.

"Yes," replied Alyx. "We learned French and music."

"And washing?" asked the Mock Turtle.

"No," Alyx replied firmly.

"Ah! Then yours wasn't a good school," the Mock Turtle said with satisfaction. "At our school, they had 'French, music, AND washing—extra.'"

"You couldn't have needed washing much," Alyx observed logically. "Living in the sea would make that unnecessary."

"I couldn't afford extra classes," the Mock Turtle admitted sadly. "I only took the regular course."

"What was the regular course?" Alyx asked.

"Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with," the Mock Turtle replied. "And then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision."

"I've never heard of 'Uglification,'" Alyx admitted cautiously.

The Gryphon lifted both paws in surprise. "What! Never learned Uglification!" it exclaimed. "You know what Beautification is, I suppose?"

"Yes," replied Alyx uncertainly. "It means—to make something prettier."

"Well then," continued the Gryphon, "if you don't know what Uglification is, you're simply a dunce."

Alyx calculated that further questions about this topic would only make her look worse, so she changed direction. "What else did you study?" she asked the Mock Turtle.

"Well, there was Mystery," the Mock Turtle replied, counting on his flippers. "Mystery—ancient and modern, with Seaography. Then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel that came once a week. He taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils."

"What was that like?" asked Alyx.

"I can't show you myself," the Mock Turtle said sadly. "I'm too stiff. And the Gryphon never learned it."

"No time," explained the Gryphon. "I focused on the classics. My teacher was an old crab—tough but effective."

"I never took his class," the Mock Turtle said with a sigh. "He taught Laughing and Grief, I was told."

"So he did," said the Gryphon with a sigh of its own. Both creatures covered their faces with their paws.

"How many hours a day did you study?" asked Alyx, eager to move the conversation away from emotional topics.

"Ten hours the first day," said the Mock Turtle. "Nine the next, and so on."

"What a strange schedule!" remarked Alyx.

"That's why they're called lessons," the Gryphon explained. "Because they 'lessen' from day to day."

This was completely new to Alyx, who thought about it carefully before asking her next question. "Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?"

"Of course," said the Mock Turtle.

"And what happened on the twelfth day?" Alyx inquired with growing interest.

"Enough about lessons," the Gryphon interrupted firmly. "Tell her about the games now."