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Like all the other smart AIs that Dr. Halsey had worked with over the years, Cortana would effectively“die” after an operational life of seven years.
But Cortana’s mind was unique among all the other AIs Dr. Halsey had encountered. An AI’s matrixwas created by sending electrical bursts through the neural pathways of a human brain. Those pathwayswere then replicated in a superconducting nano-assemblage. The technique destroyed the original humantissue, so they could only be obtained from a suitable candidate that had already died. Cortana, however,had to have the best mind available. The success of her mission and the lives of the Spartans woulddepend on it.
At Dr. Halsey’s insistence, ONI had arranged to have her own brain carefully cloned and her memoriesflash-transferred to the receptacle organs. Only one of the twenty cloned brains survived the process.Cortana had literally sprung from Dr. Halsey’s mind, like Athena from the head of Zeus.
So, in a way, Cortanawas Dr. Halsey.
Cortana straightened, her face eager. “When does the MJOLNIR armor become fully operational. Whendo I go?”
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“Soon. There are a few final modifications that need to be made in the systems.”
Cortana leaped to her “feet,” turned her back to Dr. Halsey, and examined the photographs on the wall.She brushed her fingertips over the glass surfaces. “Which one will be mine?”
“Which one do you want?”
She immediately gravitated to the picture in the center of Dr. Halsey’s collection. It showed a handsomeman standing at attention as Admiral Stanforth pinned the UNSC Legion of Honor upon his chest—achest that already overflowed with citations.
Cortana framed her fingers around the man’s face. “He’s so serious,” she murmured. “Thoughtful eyes,though. Attractive in a primitive animal sort of way, don’t you think, Doctor?”
Dr. Halsey blushed. Apparently, shedid think so. Cortana’s thoughts mirrored many of her own, onlyunchecked by normal military and social protocol.
“Perhaps it would be best if you picked another—”
Cortana turned to face Dr. Halsey and cocked an eyebrow, mock stern. “Youasked me which one Iwanted. . . .”
“It was a question, Cortana. I did not give you carte blanche to select your ‘carrier.’ There arecompatibility issues to consider.”
Cortana blinked. “His neural patterns are in sync with my mine within two percent. With the newinterface we’ll be installing, that should fall well within tolerable limits. In fact—” Her gaze drifted andthe symbols along her body brightened and flashed. “—I have just developed a custom interface bufferthat will match us within zero point zero eight one percent. You won’t find a better match among theothers.
“In fact,” she added coyly, “I can guarantee it.”
“I see,” Dr. Halsey said. She pushed away from her desk, stood, and paced.
Why was she hesitating? The matchwas superb. But was Cortana’s predilection for Spartan 117 a resultof him being Dr. Halsey’s favorite? And did it matter? Who better to protect him?