Chapter Text
Artemis is the one who brings it up, overly casual a day before they're scheduled to land, and he probably should have seen something like this coming. He's the one who set her up; he knew how he was making her.
"We are picking up Clarke Griffin in Port Zeta."
He's doing his last checks on the inventory, not paying her much mind. "What's that?"
"Your new therapy human."
That gets his full attention, and when he looks up, Artemis is looking back at him. It's hard for her to really look smug--her casing isn't designed for a wide range of expressions--but she's doing her best.
"My what."
"Therapy human."
"Artemis. Stop playing around and tell me what you're talking about."
"The program has been gaining in popularity over the last ten standard years. Preliminary studies on their efficacy have been positive. Humans are social creatures. Compared to other organic species, humans perform worse and have a lower quality of life when they are the only one of their kind on a ship. Even if there is no interaction with the other human, current research suggests they are happier and more fulfilled." Her voice drops the academic tone, and her display brightens with her equivalent of a smirk. "I can quote statistics."
Bellamy's not having it. "You can tell me what you fucking did. Actually, Hestia?"
The cockpit lights turn blue to indicate the ship AI is listening. "Yes?"
"Comms on, all crew."
"Comms online."
He lets out a breath. "Who knew Artemis was looking at therapy humans?"
The silence is long enough that the answer is obvious: he's the only one who was kept in the dark.
"There have been studies--" Demeter starts, and he rubs his face.
"Yeah, I heard. You can't just buy a person to keep me company."
"There was no buying!" Artemis says, sounding offended.
"Unless you think all employment is slavery," says Hermes. "Which you might. But we went to an agency, so it was on the level."
"I told them it was a bad idea," Hephaestus says. "Do I need to be involved in this conversation?"
"I assume you care about the outcome," says Bellamy.
"Yes. But only the outcome."
"Then yeah, you can mute your comm." He waits for the click of the comm disconnecting and then says, "I'm not lonely." It's not exactly on topic, but he thinks that's probably the root issue.
"My existence indicates otherwise," says Artemis.
His jaw tenses, but it's not like he can argue. Artemis knows what she's doing here. He's never hidden that from her.
If he'd known about therapy humans as a concept, maybe he wouldn't have her in the first place. Maybe he would have made a different stupid decision.
"So you just hired some girl to come live here?" he asks, in lieu of getting into that.
"She gets room and board, and she will help out as needed on the ship. Legitimate employment. Like Hermes said, on the level."
"According to her file, she is organized and good with numbers," he adds.
"Wow, exactly what I need a human for on a ship full of AIs."
"All you need her to do is be a human," says Hestia.
If he'd guessed which of his crew had approved of this plan, he could have called it pretty well: Artemis instigating, Demeter and Hermes agreeing, Hephaestus against but not getting involved. Hestia was the wild card, the one who could have gone either way, and it stings a little to find out she was in favor of the idea.
He thought he was doing better.
"If all I had to do was be a human, I'd get bored."
It's the wrong thing to say; Artemis whirls on him. "You do get bored! You get bored all the time. You never have enough to do. So you should try a therapy human. She wants to join the crew, and you need more crew members. More organic crew members. If you were not so stubborn--"
"Okay, okay," he says, holding up his hands. "I get it. We can give it a shot. You already have her picked out, and she's planning on being on the ship for at least--what did you tell her?"
"Seventy standard days," says Hermes, prompt. "Give or take. Our next human-aligned port will be Eden Point. She knows."
Bellamy sighs. "So if it doesn't work out, she knows where she'll be and when she'll be there."
"We wanted to help," Artemis says. AIs aren't exactly designed for nuance in their tones, but her petulance is unmistakable. "We did a good job. Clarke Griffin is the best choice."
"I'm sure. How many choices were there?"
"Eighteen."
"Jupiter. I didn't know being a therapy human was such a great gig."
"Some of them were definitely scammers," says Demeter. "But we vetted, as well as the agency. Clarke Griffin is the correct choice."
"I want you to send me all the files," he says. "Not just hers. I want to all of them, and the methodology you used to pick this one. Any communications you had with her, I want those too." He hesitates, but there isn't really a way around it he can see. "Hestia, unmute Hephaestus."
"Unmuted."
"Okay, listen up. Executive order. User Bellamy Blake, pass phrase Augustus Octavian Seven Alpha Nine." He waits for all five AIs to give their confirmations, which they do in activation order: first Hestia, then Hephaestus, Demeter, Hermes, and finally Artemis. Giving executive orders always makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck; he never forgets that everyone on his crew is an AI, but he rarely takes advantage of that fact. They're intelligent, independent beings who could survive on their own, if they were allowed to. Most of them time they can obey him or disobey him as they see fit, and he likes that. Executive orders take away their autonomy. They can't not listen to him now, and it always feels as if he's cheating, taking advantage of them.
And of course they don't mind, but they can't mind. Their programming doesn't allow them to be upset about this. It's a fact of their existence: they serve organics. Once Bellamy has said his pass phrase, he can make them do anything, and it will never even occur to them to object. They aren't capable of questioning it.
Maybe he does need another human around. Someone who understands why this makes him feel so strange, if he's lucky.
Since it's an order they can't ever disobey, Bellamy thinks over his phrasing carefully. AIs are literal, and he doesn't want this to ever be something anyone else can take advantage of, something he'll regret. But he also doesn't want it to be something they can weasel out of if they think it's necessary. "No organic beings can be invited to live on the Olympus without my permission," he says. "You must inform me if you are trying to add members to this crew. You can use your discretion for visitors, but anyone who will need a bunk, you tell me before you offer that to them. Repeat that back as you understand it."
Bellamy's AI programming knowledge is self-taught and hard won; he's read a lot of books, and Raven will always accept his questions, no matter how stupid, but he has no real inborn talent for the work. She was the one who told him to have them repeat things back to him, whether they were executive orders or just regular commands. Like humans and other organic forms of intelligence, AI brains interpret words based on their own experience and biases, and it's good to make sure everyone is on the same page before moving on.
Hermes and Artemis's versions of the order both need a little tweaking, no surprise there, but that's it, and he ends with the standard, "Executive order complete, Bellamy Blake admin logout. Pass phrase Augustus Octavian Seven Alpha Nine."
The lights that serve as Artemis's eyes turn on again, and she blinks them a few times, as if waking up from sleep. "Sorry," she says, soft. "I did not think--"
"It's okay," he says. "I know why you did it. But it's not safe for me to have people I don't know on the ship. I need to know when these things are happening."
"You are the one who programmed me to not respect your authority," Artemis points out, and he smiles a little.
"I know. I don't blame you. If I'd known therapy humans were a thing, I would have been expecting it."
"You can still tell her to leave."
"I'll read the files," he says. "But unless there's a major red flag you all missed, I'll take her. She's expecting to come on this ship in good faith. Maybe she just needs a ride to Eden Point."
"Maybe she wants to work on a ship," says Artemis. "I can think of worse places to be."
"Yeah? You can give me that list later. Hermes, you have those files for me?" he adds.
"I gave you access," says Hermes. "Hidden personnel file Company. All information present and accounted for. Am I done?"
"You're done, thanks. But I'm sending you the inventory list for Port Zeta, I need you to figure out where we're getting them."
"Will do. You should let Clarke Griffin come with me."
"I should?"
"As I keep telling you, AIs cannot haggle. I accept prices given to me. She said she was persuasive, I want to see if she really is."
"Noted. I'll let you know. Send me the list when it's done."
"You got it, boss."
Artemis is still looking guilty, and Bellamy's stomach twists. He always feels a little bad about Artemis; creating AIs to replace humans is always a mistake, according to Raven, and while he doesn't regret it, he does think it was unfair. Artemis isn't his sister, and he doesn't expect her to be. But he wanted her to be someone who could fill a similar role on the crew as Octavia's, so he gave them similar personalities and traits, and it's not a good fit for an AI. It's just difficult for both of them. But all she knows how to do is her best.
"Okay, I need you to talk me through these," he tells her, with a smile. "I want to know how you picked Clarke Griffin."
"Because she was the best one," says Artemis, brightening. "Obviously. Where do you want to review them?"
"We can do it in the mess," he says. "I'm sure Demeter has opinions too."
"Many, many opinions. I am sorry," she adds, her slightly tinny voice soft and pitched to sound genuine.
"No apology necessary. I get it. It might be nice. Having another human around."
It doesn't even feel like a lie, once he's said it.
"It is good for you. I can find you the studies."
His smile is a little faint, but it is genuine. He's used to them by now. They love him, and they want to help. It's hard to be that upset about it, really. "Yeah. Looking forward to it."