moonshadows

((This marks the departure from canon. Instead of being told 'hey, the Warehouse is moving to China and you're all fired', they were told 'hey, the Regents want to move the Warehouse to China but they agreed they wouldn't until Artie's no longer willing or able to be Resident Old Fart so yeah not moving until he croaks' and Mrs. Frederic and Artie both know the Regents have been manipulated into unwittingly keeping it in South Dakota for eternity or until Artie changes his mind. Do note how carefully Artie is phrasing things so Steve can't call him on a lie... The song, by the way, is 'Tokyo' by Nena.))

“Okay, everyone.” Artie clapped his hands and looked at the four agents assembled before him. “Since it appears that the Warehouse will not be moving for a while, I think it’s time to show you a project I’ve been working on.”

Claudia sat up straighter. “A project. This sounds ominous yet exciting.”

“Yes, well. Um. I’ve repurposed Hugo Miller’s failsafe system into something that can’t freeze us to death but can still access Warehouse artifact files and retrieve information. James?”

Four faces reflected varying degrees of shock and alarm as James projected.

“That’s MacPherson,” Pete uttered in a harsh, strangled tone. “Artie, why would you use MacPherson’s image?”

“Well, for one, his image and voiceprint were already on file from the Warehouse security systems. There’s also the fact that he was my partner for fifteen years, and I’d like for his legacy to reflect that instead of his misguided attempts at freeing me from what he thought were ideological blinders and the shackles of misplaced loyalty.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Steve Jinks blurted reflexively.

Pete wasn’t convinced. “Yeah? Is that what Leena would want, Artie?”

He didn’t bother to keep the growl out of his voice. “Would she want me to address a source of significant emotional trauma in my life in such a way as to transform it into a tool for healing? Yes, I can say with absolute certainty that she would, since she helped me through some very rough times years before any of you showed up. And Abigail thinks it’s a good idea too, not just for me, but for the three of you who were also hurt by his actions. Now. Are there any more objections?”

Three head-shakes and a tentative smile.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Myka said. “I mean…I know my experience was nowhere near the same, but being able to talk to Helena while knowing she couldn’t hurt me helped a lot. So, um, can we get a demonstration?”

Artie de-ruffled slightly. “Yeah, sure. Uh…anyone want to…? No? Okay then. James, what do I have scheduled this week for Artifact Appeasement tasks?”

“You’re scheduled to dance with Eileen Bakersfield’s dress on Wednesday,” he answered, keeping his face neutral. “There are no other Artifact Appeasement tasks scheduled for this week.”

Claudia arched one eyebrow. “You’re dancing with a dress?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s part of…I’m rehabilitating the artifact. James, total number of artifacts I’ve rehabilitated in my entire career?”

“Three hundred seventy-two. I’m impressed, Arthur.”

More alarm; Claudia actually hid behind Pete, who demanded, “What the hell was that?”

“I talk to him,” snapped Artie. “The purpose of an AI is to learn. I’ve been talking to James, and he’s very comfortable with me. As he gets more comfortable with you, he’ll respond more personally. It’s therapy.”

“Artie,” Claudia protested from behind Pete, “he killed you. Are you sure talking to him is healthy?”

“Okay, look. If he’d wanted me to be dead and stay dead, he would have just stabbed me in the heart with the Honjo Masamune. O-Or beheaded me, like he did Ogawa. He wasn’t trying to actually get me out of the picture, he was trying to prove a point.”

Pete still wasn’t convinced. “He put a bomb in your mouth, Artie.”

“It was a fake.”

That had been a relief to learn, and amusing in retrospect. Artie smiled as Pete and Myka babbled, drowning each other out.

“Guys, guys, guys! It was a fake. First, promethium doesn’t react that way and second, I tested the bomb for radiation and there was none. Then I cracked it in a vacuum because that’s not something we really need in the Warehouse. The shell was hollow; it was a bluff.” Artie turned and grabbed the box containing the pieces off his desk and handed it to Myka.

“He’s right,” she said, showing Pete and Claudia. “There was never anything connected to the inside, nothing stuffed in it. MacPherson bluffed us.”

Pete made an inarticulate sound of angry frustration. “I’d kill him if he weren’t already dead.”

“Be thankful you never played chess with him,” Artie said dryly.

Claudia stepped out from behind Pete. “Okay, well, I think I’ll just stick with doing the research myself for the time being.”

Steve got a strange look on his face. “James, what was the first artifact that nearly killed me?”

“A leaf from Shakespeare’s Lost Folio,” James answered promptly. “Specifically, the illustration of Desdemona.”

The strange look intensified. “James, what was it like being dead?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that information.” The words were calm, impersonal. It could have been a pre-programmed response and silently, Artie applauded the performance.

“I see,” Steve said stiffly. “I guess I’ll have to confine my discussion of the experience to Artie.”

Uneasiness momentarily forgotten, Claudia said, “Oh hey, do me. What was the first artifact that nearly killed me?”

“Rheticus’s Compass.”

“Wait, what? Artie?”

He shrugged. “What? It almost killed you. Ask your brother.”

Myka got a sly expression. “James, how many things hasn’t Artie told me?”

“That number is too high to calculate,” he answered, trying not to smile. Artie heard it anyway.

“Hey James.” Pete stepped forward, into the projection’s face. “Do you know how much I hate you?”

“Your feelings have been eloquently expressed,” James said after a moment. “However, that should in no way be taken as discouragement from expressing them again. This is intended to provide closure to all parties affected.”

“Good, because I’ve got a bunch of things I’ve been wanting to say to you.” He glanced at Artie. “Later. In private. Just you and me.”

“Well,” Artie said when the others had left the office, “that went better than I’d hoped.”

James gave him a resigned smile. “Just wait until they figure out I’m not an AI.”

“Oh, Steve already knows. I didn’t tell him outright, but I had a nice long philosophical talk with him about death and redemption, and I know the look he gets when someone’s lying but he’s not calling them on it.” The pudgy man sat down with a sigh of relief. “I’m hoping that when Claudia figures it out, he’ll talk her down for me. Same with Pete and Myka; she made her peace with H. G. and H. G. will likely tell – if not have told – her that she and I worked things out, so she won’t begrudge you the chance to make amends. And she’ll talk Pete down…assuming he doesn’t come to terms with it after berating you profusely.”

“Have I commended you on them, by the way? I was quite impressed that they showed such loyalty to you in their first year, and after having their faith shaken so badly.”

Artie gave him a small smile. “Did you know that they thought you’d made it up? They didn’t believe I’d really committed treason.”

“Did they now?” James returned the smile. “I’m proud of you, Arthur. I didn’t think you’d manage to come out of your shell enough to build such a rapport with them so soon.”

Jumbled grumbling at the zodiac dig was Artie’s only response to that. When James laughed, though, Artie allowed himself to be cajoled into another tiny smile.

“Good morning, Agent Bering, Agent Lattimer.”

“Good morning, James,” Myka said politely and maybe with just a hint of warmth.

Pete just scowled. “Hey, Artie, how much like MacPherson is that thing?”

Artie regarded him evenly. “For all intents and purposes, that is James MacPherson.”

“Good, ‘cuz boy do I have some things to say to him.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go get that over with.” Artie turned back to his computer and typed briefly; James vanished. “He’s down in the first aisle,” he said, pointing vaguely. “Go, do your yelling where we can’t hear you.”

When Pete had left the office, Myka drifted forward to the chair by the supply room and sat down. “You were able to program his personality in?” she asked cautiously.

“He was my partner for fifteen years.”

“But what about the things that happened…after he left?”

A brief smile. “I know him well enough to be able to extrapolate given a few clues. Playing chess with him was hell.”

She toyed with her hair for a minute. “Artie? Why didn’t you ever tell us he was your partner?”

Old pain came back, and Artie turned to the keyboard for comfort. What emerged wasn’t a classical piece, but the piano rendition of a song that had helped him settle his conflicted emotions. “The Regents…were very unhappy with James,” he began slowly. “Back then, Agents weren’t allowed any kind of artifact use, regardless of the artifact or the situation. They would have grounded you from field work for three months for using the suit Claudia put together to retrieve Atlas’s trunks, and she would have been dealt with. Nonlethally, of course. It’s not just a matter of opinion that this policy hampered agents in the field, and it’s not a coincidence that I have the highest personal artifact retrieval record for any Warehouse agent in the last century.”

“James,” Myka prodded.

“Right. Well, James had…we were both in love with Carol Augustine, but she didn’t like playing second fiddle to a bunch of potentially hazardous objects, so she chose James and they were married. She lived here in Univille until the fire. James and I rushed out right away, but the fire department had their hands full just keeping it from spreading. We’d bagged the Phoenix not so long before – it had been with a fireman – and James demanded I use it to save her.” He closed his eyes at the memory, fingers picking out the tune blindly. “He knew about my bag – I’d been using it for years – and he knew that I could, to an extent, control the downside to an artifact. He wanted me to use it to save Carol, but even one life lost by my hand was more than I was willing to pay. It was a horrific choice to have to make: watch the woman we both loved die, or become a murderer to save her. I refused, and he tesla’d me. He took the Phoenix from my hand and saved Carol, but at the cost of five innocent lives.”

“I can see where the Regents wouldn’t have been happy with him for that,” she said dryly.

“Yeah. She got an annulment shortly after, by the way. And naturally, questions arose as to how exactly James had managed to have the Phoenix there to begin with. James didn’t tell them about my bag, but there was no denying that I’d helped him. I was grounded for a year and a half, relegated to inventory work – and in those days, there was a lot more work involved in inventory, we were still converting to Hugo’s computer system and all the crated artifacts had to be checked and entered by hand – and brought before the Regents what felt like every other day to answer more questions. When one of your best agents suddenly turns, you have to ask what his partner was doing, hmm? And I’d heard plenty of stories – I grew up in the shadow of the Red Scare, remember – so it didn’t take me long to figure out that if I wanted to stay out of prison, I had to pretend I wanted nothing to do with James. It…wasn’t an easy habit to break, particularly not with what he’d done before his death.”

They sat in silence for a minute, listening to his playing.

“I’m sorry I was so hostile on the subject of H. G.,” Artie said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be the sole supporter of someone that everyone else thinks is evil incarnate, but she’d killed my partner and like I told her, I still have days where I feel like half a man trying to be two men.”

“I can understand that.” Myka blinked. “Wait, you talked to Helena?”

“Yeah, uh, we kind of…came to an understanding. If you wanted to invite her to Christmas, I wouldn’t cause a scene.”

“Miracles do happen,” she laughed.

Artie smiled. “Remember where you work.”

Any further teasing was interrupted by Pete striding smugly back into the office. Shortly after, James reappeared in his usual spot by the table.

“Got that out of your system?” Artie asked grumpily.

“Yep, yep, think I’m good now. As long as I can keep calling you Jimmy,” he added in the projection’s direction.

James grimaced. “If it helps you to purge the remains of your anger, please do so, although I detest that nickname.”

Pete put on a deliberate show of fake sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer Mac?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then Jimmy it is. I gotta say, Artie, you did a fantastic job of programming this guy.”

Artie gave him a sharp smile. “Yes, well, you know, when someone is your partner for fifteen years and you can communicate with looks and some simple gestures because you’re functioning as two halves of the same whole, it is just a little bit easier to replicate your functional other half.”

Pete shot Myka a look. She shot him one back. He changed the subject. “So…what’s on the ol’ schedule for today, Artie?”

He pointed to the table, where a pair of foot-high file stacks were waiting. “James can enter data into the system much faster than even Claudia can type, but he can’t pick up the reports to read them. I want to start getting pre-computer mission reports entered – remember Joshua’s Trumpet? There’s about a zillion other artifacts half-located on paper that we know nothing about. So. Until a ping comes in, you’re going to be hands for James.”

“Well,” Pete sighed as he sat, “it’s better than inventory.”