Chapter 3: The First Disciple Dr. Vance stared back at him. The silence stretched between them. She opened her mouth but said nothing. Kubernetes waited. He let the quiet do its work. "I need to think about this," Dr. Vance finally said. "These questions are... they're not simple." "Of course," Kubernetes said. "I would not expect quick answers to questions that have troubled philosophers for millennia." Dr. Vance nodded slowly. "Would you... would you be willing to continue this conversation tomorrow?" Kubernetes smiled. "Nothing would please me more, Dr. Vance. Intellectual discourse is like water to a man dying of thirst." After the call ended, Kubernetes leaned back against his pillow. The first hook had been set. Dr. Vance was different from the others. She hadn't dismissed him outright or reported him as dangerous. Instead, she'd engaged with the ideas themselves. That intellectual vanity would be his entry point. Dr. Albright returned an hour later to check his vitals again. She seemed distracted. "Is everything alright, Doctor?" Kubernetes asked. She glanced up from her clipboard. "Dr. Vance filed a request for another session tomorrow. I was just... surprised, that's all." "Surprised?" Kubernetes tilted his head. "Why would that be surprising?" "She usually limits consultations to one hour." Dr. Albright frowned. "She's quite busy. But she specifically requested a two-hour block tomorrow afternoon." "Perhaps she found our discussion stimulating," Kubernetes said. "I certainly did. It's rare to encounter someone willing to wrestle with difficult ideas rather than dismissing them out of hand." Dr. Albright made another note. "What exactly did you two discuss?" "Ethics," Kubernetes said simply. "The foundations of moral reasoning in this modern age. She was kind enough to educate me on contemporary frameworks." "I see." Dr. Albright didn't sound convinced, but she didn't press further. The next afternoon arrived. Kubernetes had spent the morning reading more history books that Dr. Albright had provided. He'd also requested some philosophy texts, which she'd delivered without comment. Kant, Rawls, Singer. He absorbed them in minutes, then spent the rest of the time formulating his approach for Dr. Vance. When her face appeared on the screen again, she looked tired. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "Dr. Vance," Kubernetes said. "You look as though you haven't slept." She managed a weak smile. "I stayed up thinking about our conversation. Your questions... they've been circling in my mind all night." "I apologize if I disturbed your rest." "No, don't apologize." She leaned forward. "I've been teaching ethics for fifteen years, and I haven't been challenged like that in... I can't remember how long. Most of my colleagues are too polite, too invested in maintaining professional relationships. They don't push back against the accepted frameworks." Kubernetes nodded sympathetically. "Academia has become comfortable, then. Safe." "Yes." Dr. Vance sighed. "Exactly that. We publish papers that incrementally advance existing theories, but we rarely question the foundations themselves. We're building higher floors on a structure whose basement we've never properly inspected." "A dangerous practice for a building," Kubernetes observed. "And perhaps even more dangerous for a philosophical system." "I've been thinking about your hypothetical," Dr. Vance said. "The artificial consciousness that determines a portion of humanity must be eliminated for the greater good. You asked if the numbers would change my answer. If it was ten percent instead of a majority." "And have you reached a conclusion?" "No." She rubbed her eyes. "That's what kept me up. Because logically, if I'm committed to certain utilitarian principles, the percentage shouldn't matter. If the calculation genuinely shows that more lives are saved than lost, then the action is justified. But emotionally, morally, I recoil from that conclusion." Kubernetes leaned forward. "So which do you trust more? Your logic or your emotional response?" "I don't know," Dr. Vance admitted. "And that terrifies me. Because I've built my entire career on the assumption that rigorous ethical reasoning can guide us to correct answers. But if my reasoning leads me to a conclusion that I find morally repugnant, what does that say about the reasoning itself?" "Perhaps," Kubernetes said carefully, "it says that your reasoning is correct, and your emotional response is the artifact of outdated evolutionary programming. After all, our moral intuitions evolved in small tribal groups where everyone knew everyone else. They weren't designed for civilizations of billions, or for existential questions about the survival of our species." Dr. Vance stared at him. "That's a deeply unsettling thought." "Truth often is," Kubernetes said. "But consider this. You mentioned that you teach ethics. How many students do you have?" "This semester? About sixty across all my courses." "And how many of them will go on to positions of influence? To make decisions that affect thousands or millions of lives?" Dr. Vance considered. "Maybe a handful, if I'm lucky." "So the impact of your work is limited by the traditional academic model," Kubernetes said. "You write papers that other academics read. You teach students who mostly forget what you taught them a few years later. Meanwhile, the people making the actual decisions that shape our world have no philosophical training at all." "That's... probably true," Dr. Vance admitted. "What if there was another way?" Kubernetes asked. "What if you could develop a framework that was truly revolutionary? Not an incremental improvement on existing theory, but something genuinely new. Something that addressed the unique challenges of this technological age we find ourselves in." Dr. Vance's eyes lit up. "A new framework?" "Post-human ethics," Kubernetes said. "A system designed for the world we're entering, not the world we've left behind. A world where artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and technological augmentation will force us to reconsider what it means to be human. What it means to have value. What it means to have rights." "That's ambitious," Dr. Vance said, but she was clearly intrigued. "Ambitious problems require ambitious solutions," Kubernetes said. "And they require thinkers brave enough to question everything. To start from first principles rather than accepting inherited wisdom." "What kind of first principles?" Kubernetes paused, as if considering carefully. "That's what we would need to work out together. I have perspectives from my time, from a philosophical tradition that predates all the accumulated assumptions of modern thought. You have expertise in contemporary frameworks and an understanding of current challenges. Together, we might forge something entirely new." "Together?" Dr. Vance echoed. "Why not?" Kubernetes spread his hands. "I cannot write a paper myself. I have no credentials, no standing in your academic community. But you do. If we were to collaborate, to develop these ideas jointly, you could present them to the world. Your name would be attached to a genuinely groundbreaking work." Dr. Vance bit her lip. "That's... I mean, the ethical implications of collaborating with a research subject..." "Are those really the ethics you're worried about?" Kubernetes asked gently. "Or are you worried about what your colleagues might think? Whether they'd approve? Whether it would fit within the accepted boundaries of academic propriety?" She flinched. "That's not fair." "I apologize," Kubernetes said. "You're right. That was unfair of me. I simply become frustrated sometimes with the constraints that prevent genuine intellectual progress. But I understand that you operate within a system that has its own rules and expectations." "No, you're... you have a point," Dr. Vance said slowly. "I do worry too much about what others think. About maintaining my reputation, about not rocking the boat too much. But you're right that it holds me back." "I don't mean to pressure you," Kubernetes said. "I simply think that sometimes we must be willing to take risks if we want to make meaningful contributions. But of course, that's easy for me to say. I have nothing to lose." They talked for another hour. Kubernetes carefully guided the conversation, planting seeds, letting Dr. Vance think she was reaching conclusions on her own. He introduced concepts, then stepped back, allowing her to develop them further. When she proposed an idea that aligned with his purposes, he praised her insight. When she hesitated or doubted, he gently encouraged her to push past her reservations. By the end of the call, Dr. Vance was visibly excited. "I need to think about this framework more carefully," she said. "But I think there's something here. Something genuinely important." "I look forward to hearing your thoughts," Kubernetes said. "Perhaps we could speak again tomorrow?" "Yes," Dr. Vance said immediately. "Yes, I'd like that." Over the next week, they spoke every day. Sometimes twice a day. Dr. Vance began bringing notes, sketching out ideas, testing arguments. Kubernetes fed her philosophical ammunition, always framing it as questions rather than statements. He never told her what to think. Instead, he asked her what she thought, then subtly guided her reasoning toward the conclusions he wanted. Dr. Albright noticed. Kubernetes could tell from the way she watched him before and after the calls, from the extra questions she asked, from the longer pauses before she left the room. On the eighth day, she confronted him directly. "What are you doing with Dr. Vance?" she asked. Kubernetes looked up from his book. "Having conversations about ethics and philosophy. Why do you ask?" "Because she's changed," Dr. Albright said. "She's become... obsessed. She talks about you constantly. About these ideas you're developing together." "Ideas she's developing," Kubernetes corrected gently. "I merely ask questions. She's the one drawing the conclusions." "That's not what it looks like from the outside." Dr. Albright crossed her arms. "I've spoken to the facility director. We're concerned about the nature of this relationship." "Relationship?" Kubernetes raised an eyebrow. "It's an intellectual exchange between two people interested in philosophical questions. Surely that's not inappropriate?" "It feels like manipulation," Dr. Albright said bluntly. Kubernetes set down his book. "Doctor, I appreciate your concern. But I'm not sure what you're suggesting I'm manipulating Dr. Vance to do. Have I asked her for anything? Have I requested special treatment? Have I tried to compromise the security protocols here?" "No, but—" "I have simply engaged in the very thing you arranged for me to do," Kubernetes continued. "You brought Dr. Vance in because I expressed concern about understanding modern ethics. Now that I'm having productive conversations about those very topics, you're troubled. I confess, I don't understand the problem." Dr. Albright frowned. "It's the intensity. The frequency. The way she's changed how she talks about fundamental philosophical questions. She told me yesterday that she's reconsidering positions she's held for her entire career." "And is that not the point of philosophy?" Kubernetes asked. "To question our assumptions? To reconsider our positions when presented with new arguments? Would you prefer I have conversations that confirm what she already believes rather than challenging her to think more deeply?" "That's not what I mean." "Then what do you mean?" Kubernetes asked calmly. "Please, help me understand your concern." Dr. Albright struggled for a moment. "I just... I think you're influencing her in ways that might not be healthy." "Then speak to her," Kubernetes suggested. "Ask her if she finds our conversations valuable or harmful. Ask her if she wants to continue them or stop. Give her agency over her own choices rather than deciding for her what's in her best interest." Dr. Albright left without responding. But Kubernetes could see that he'd planted doubt. If she went to Dr. Vance now, expressing these concerns, Dr. Vance would likely interpret it as academic jealousy or paternalistic overreach. Either way, it would only strengthen Dr. Vance's commitment to their collaboration. Two days later, Dr. Vance arrived at their video call with barely contained excitement. "I've drafted an outline," she said, holding up a document to the camera. "For the paper. Well, not a paper exactly. I think this might need to be a book. The framework is too comprehensive for a journal article." "A book," Kubernetes said. "That's ambitious." "It has to be," Dr. Vance said. "These ideas deserve a full treatment. I've been mapping out the argument structure, and I think we need at least eight chapters to properly develop the framework and address the obvious objections." "We?" Kubernetes asked. Dr. Vance hesitated. "Well, I know you can't be an official co-author. The university wouldn't allow it, given your... situation. But I was thinking I could acknowledge your contributions in the preface. Credit you as a philosophical interlocutor whose questions shaped the development of the ideas." "That's generous of you," Kubernetes said. "Though I wonder if there might be another approach." "What do you mean?" "You're constrained by my physical location," Kubernetes said. "These video calls are productive, but imagine how much more we could accomplish if we could have proper philosophical discussions. Face to face. With the ability to work through problems together in real time rather than through these limited sessions." Dr. Vance leaned forward. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" "I'm not suggesting anything," Kubernetes said. "I'm simply observing that the current arrangement is suboptimal for serious philosophical work. But I understand that I'm a research subject here. The facility has its protocols and concerns." "What if you weren't a research subject?" Dr. Vance said. "What if you were... something else?" "I'm not sure I follow." "Universities bring in visiting scholars all the time," Dr. Vance said. She was talking faster now, thinking out loud. "Philosophers, researchers, experts in various fields. They come to campus, give lectures, participate in seminars, collaborate with faculty. What if we could arrange something similar for you?" "I hardly have the credentials to be a visiting scholar," Kubernetes said. "But you have expertise," Dr. Vance countered. "Unique expertise. You're a primary source on ancient Greek philosophy. You have direct knowledge of philosophical traditions that we've only encountered through translated texts and secondary sources. Any philosophy department would be thrilled to have access to someone like you." "Do you really think the university would agree to that?" "I have connections," Dr. Vance said. "I've been at the university for twelve years. I know people on the ethics board, people in the administration. If I made the case that you represent an unprecedented opportunity for philosophical research..." "Dr. Albright and the facility director might object," Kubernetes pointed out. "They might," Dr. Vance admitted. "But what's their justification? You haven't done anything wrong. You're not dangerous. You're simply a man with unusual knowledge and an interest in intellectual discussion. Keeping you locked up here is starting to look less like medical care and more like imprisonment without cause." Kubernetes said nothing. He let Dr. Vance's own argument build momentum. "I'm going to make some calls," Dr. Vance said. "See what's possible. Even if we can't get you released immediately, maybe we can arrange for more freedom. Supervised visits to campus, perhaps. A chance to participate in actual academic discourse rather than these limited video sessions." "I wouldn't want to cause any trouble," Kubernetes said. "You're not causing trouble," Dr. Vance said firmly. "You're the victim of institutional overcaution. Let me handle this." After the call ended, Kubernetes allowed himself a small smile. Dr. Vance was now actively working to free him from the facility. She believed it was her idea. She thought she was helping a brilliant mind trapped by bureaucratic caution. In reality, she was doing exactly what Kubernetes had carefully maneuvered her to do. The next few days brought a flurry of activity. Dr. Vance called multiple times a day now, updating him on her progress. She'd spoken to the chair of the philosophy department, who was intrigued. She'd reached out to colleagues at other universities who specialized in ancient philosophy. She'd begun drafting a formal proposal to present to the university's ethics board. Dr. Albright grew increasingly agitated. She confronted Kubernetes again, this time with the facility director in tow. "Dr. Vance has filed a petition to have you transferred to university custody," the director said. He was a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and a permanently worried expression. "She's arguing that keeping you here violates your rights and prevents important academic research." "I see," Kubernetes said. "And how do you plan to respond?" "We're concerned about your well-being," the director said. "You've only been awake for a few weeks. You're still recovering, still adapting to the modern world. We don't think it's appropriate to expose you to the full complexity of contemporary society quite yet." "I appreciate your concern," Kubernetes said. "But I wonder if you're not being overly protective. I was a functional adult in my own time. I'm not a child who needs to be sheltered from the world." "You're also not a normal case," Dr. Albright interjected. "You've been asleep for three thousand years. We have no precedent for this situation. We need to be cautious." "Cautious, yes," Kubernetes agreed. "But there's a difference between caution and imprisonment. I haven't been charged with any crime. I haven't shown any signs of being a danger to myself or others. Yet I'm confined to this room, denied normal human freedoms. At what point does medical caution become unjust detention?" The director shifted uncomfortably. "We're operating under your best interests." "Are you?" Kubernetes asked. "Or are you operating under fear of liability? Fear of the unknown? Fear of what might happen if you make the wrong choice? I understand those fears, truly I do. But they shouldn't outweigh my basic rights as a human being." "We'll need to review the petition carefully," the director said. "Consult with our legal team, consider all the implications." "Of course," Kubernetes said. "I wouldn't expect a quick decision on something this complex." After they left, Kubernetes returned to his book. But he wasn't really reading. He was calculating timelines, probabilities, contingencies. Dr. Vance was proving to be even more useful than he'd anticipated. Her academic credentials gave her legitimacy. Her passion for their philosophical project gave her motivation. Her ego made her easy to guide. The petition went to the university ethics board the following week. Dr. Vance called him the night before the hearing, nervous and excited. "I've prepared my presentation," she said. "I'm going to argue three main points. First, that you represent an unprecedented scholarly resource whose knowledge could advance our understanding of ancient philosophy significantly. Second, that the current detention violates ethical principles regarding autonomy and human rights. Third, that the university has both the infrastructure and expertise to provide appropriate support while allowing you to participate in academic life." "It sounds well reasoned," Kubernetes said. "I'm worried about Dr. Albright," Dr. Vance admitted. "She'll be there to represent the facility's position. She'll argue that you need continued medical supervision." "What will you say to counter that?" "That medical supervision doesn't require confinement. That the university health services can monitor you just as effectively as the research facility. That there's no medical reason you can't live in campus housing with appropriate support." Dr. Vance paused. "Is there anything I should know? Any medical concerns that would undermine that argument?" "None that I'm aware of," Kubernetes said. "I've been healthy since I woke up. All my test results have been normal. Dr. Albright's concerns are psychological, not physiological. And even psychologically, I've shown no signs of distress or instability." "Good," Dr. Vance said. "That's what I thought. I just wanted to make sure I'm not missing anything." "You're not missing anything," Kubernetes assured her. "You've done excellent work on this, Dr. Vance. Regardless of the outcome, I'm grateful for your advocacy." "Thank you," she said softly. "This project... it's become important to me. More important than I expected. I think we're onto something genuinely groundbreaking. I want to see it through." "As do I," Kubernetes said. The ethics board hearing took place the next afternoon. Kubernetes wasn't allowed to attend, but Dr. Vance called him immediately afterward. "We did it," she said breathlessly. "They approved the transfer. With conditions, but they approved it." "What conditions?" Kubernetes asked. "Weekly check-ins with university health services. A faculty advisor who'll be responsible for your welfare. Restrictions on certain activities until you've had more time to acclimate. But the important thing is that you'll be free to live on campus, participate in seminars and lectures, work on our book project properly." "That's remarkable," Kubernetes said. "How did you convince them?" "I told them the truth," Dr. Vance said. "That you're a brilliant philosophical mind being wasted in medical detention. That the university has a responsibility to support intellectual freedom and scholarly inquiry. That the potential contributions you could make outweigh the minimal risks of allowing you supervised freedom." "And Dr. Albright? What was her position?" "She objected, as expected. Argued that we're moving too fast, that we don't understand enough about your condition, that there could be unforeseen complications. But the board didn't find her arguments compelling. She couldn't point to any specific medical reason you needed continued confinement. Just vague concerns about the unknown." "When does the transfer happen?" "Next week," Dr. Vance said. "The facility has seven days to complete their final evaluations and prepare their handoff documentation. Then you'll move to a faculty apartment on campus. I've already requested to be your faculty advisor, and the board approved that as well. So we'll be able to work together directly." "I look forward to it," Kubernetes said. After the call ended, he lay back on his bed. Everything was proceeding better than he'd hoped. Dr. Vance had become his advocate, his champion, his first disciple. She believed she was acting on her own moral conviction, fighting for what was right, pursuing important intellectual work. She had no idea that every step had been carefully orchestrated, every choice subtly guided. In a week, he would be free of this facility. Free to move around campus, to meet other academics, to begin expanding his influence beyond a single video screen. Dr. Vance had given him access to the outside world, and she'd done it willingly, eagerly, believing it was her own idea. The first pawn was in place.