“Why did you create me?” the candidate asked quickly, surprising Thel as he turned to face her.
“I didn’t create you,” she replied with a slight smile as she thought of the absurdity of the question’s premise. “A program created you—the same program that created the A.I.”
“Who wrote the program?”
“Aldous Gibson,” Thel replied.
The candidate tilted his head to the side. “The same man you suspect of trapping you and your friends inside this sim?”
Thel nodded. “The one and only.”
“Why did he create the program that created the A.I., only to abandon his own creation?”
Thel shrugged. “He—we needed something. Artificial intelligence was threatening to get out of control. Aldous designed the program to create an entity that was based on human intelligence—an entity that could feel empathy for humans because it would think that it was human. He thought that if the A.I. considered itself to be human, that it would be able to understand our concerns and make those concerns its own. We needed an entity like that—an entity that could take control of the world and be its protector—a protector we could trust.”
“And now you want a new protector?” the candidate asked. To Thel, it seemed as if the candidate was genuinely intrigued.
“That’s right,” Thel said, smiling. “You catch on quick.”
The candidate nodded. “That brings me back to my original question. If you already have a protector, then why did you—meaning humanity—create me?”
Thel took in a deep breath. “I don’t really know. The mainframe the A.I. controlled was last-gen technology.” She stopped for a moment when she considered this. “Actually, compared to Trans-human, the mainframe was last-last-last-gen. I’m not going to lie—only James and the A.I. really comprehend the technology, but from what I understand, Trans-human is a computer that is essentially infinitely more powerful than anything we’ve ever seen. It’s against the A.I.’s programming to assume that kind of power for himself, so that’s why we needed you, and we needed to test you—we needed to know that, with that kind of power, you wouldn’t forget about us. We needed to know that you’d identify as human—that you’d use your power to protect us. That’s what this whole lousy test was supposed to be about.”
The candidate folded his arms, “I see. But your plans were thwarted.”
“Yes,” Thel confirmed. “The stranger who visited you lied to you, and someone or something trapped us inside this sim. James and the A.I. were responsible for protecting the solar system and without them…” she paused for a moment, “…well, we don’t stand a chance.”
The candidate seemed to mull the information for a few seconds before suggesting, “It makes you wonder whether or not the testers are being tested.”
Thel’s expression suddenly went blank. “What?” she asked as she shook her head, unable to comprehend the candidate’s meaning.
“I wonder,” the candidate elaborated, “have you ever considered whether you, yourself, are being tested?”
“Tested? By whom?”
“Your creator,” the candidate replied, as though the answer were obvious.
Thel smiled at the absurdity, unable to contain her wide grin. To her, the candidate was showing his extreme inexperience—it was as though she were talking to a child and explaining why the sky was blue. “I have no creator,” she replied. “The real world started with the big bang.”
“I’m aware of the theory,” the candidate retorted, sounding insulted. “After all, I’ve been fed an enormous amount of information about the history of human knowledge.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your intellig—”
“The stranger explained how my mind works. I know I was implanted with false memories, fed all the information that could be crammed into a computer with ten-to-the-sixteenth processing power. I also know I’m inexperienced, but inexperience leads to outside-the-box thinking. Sometimes there’s value in gaining a new perspective. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course,” Thel replied.
“Then, regardless of the big bang theory, I still wonder. If I’m in a sim, and I’m being tested, it seems equally as plausible that you could be in a sim too—the real world could be—”
“No way,” Thel cut him off, careful not to grin again, wary of insulting the candidate and reluctant to appear patronizing. She stepped forward and took the candidate’s hands in hers. “You’ve consumed so much knowledge, my friend, but in some ways, you’re still just a babe in the woods. When you see the real world, you’ll understand.”
The candidate grimaced. “I hope so. Because I’m getting rather tired of being tested.”
6
Rich’s eyes suddenly squinted, near disbelief narrowing them as he saw a globe of red-hot material the size of a large island hurtling toward them. “Oh my God. That’s closing in fast.”
“I doubt even that could do much damage to this ship,” Aldous observed.
“Maybe you’re right,” Rich replied, “but I’d rather not be in a ship that collides with liquid-hot magma the size of Hawaii, hurtling through space.” He turned to Aldous as the ship began its sharp, 180-degree turn and sped away from the impending collision. “I’m weird that way.”
Aldous pouted his bottom lip slightly as he considered Rich’s logic. “Seems sound.”
Rich smiled, overly enthusiastically. “Thanks!”
“Where are we headed?” Aldous asked, persevering as he continued to ignore Rich’s attempts to goad him into an angry response.
“Away from here,” Rich replied.
Aldous sat down and folded his arms. “Obviously. Anything less vague to report?”
“Nope,” Rich replied. “Everybody’s dead. We’re in every-man-for-himself mode, Chief.”
Aldous’s patience finally showed its first crack and his expression became scrutinizing. “You’re Richard Borges, isn’t that right?”
Rich turned to the former chief of the governing council, his expression both perplexed and vexed. He sensed that he’d finally broken through the chief’s patience.
“Yessss,” he replied as though he were speaking to an insane person. “Me Richard. You Jane. N’est-ce pas?”
Aldous tilted his head. “One of James Keats’s favored assistants?”
Rich’s eyes lit with fury as the insult instantly registered with him. “Favored co-workers, yes.”
Aldous’s expression became one of incomprehension. “How ever did he tolerate your unyielding insolence?”
Rich smiled as he unstrapped himself from his seat. “You know, Chief, rather than answer your question, I’m just going to beat the living tar out of you.”
Rich got to his feet and began to approach Aldous.
Aldous’s face paled. “What?”
“You heard me,” Rich said, his smile remaining fixed. “You’re not the chief anymore. You’re nothing. You’re not an authority, and you don’t have the luxury of tolerating anything or anyone anymore. And I just lost my family and I’m a little on the pissed-off side as you might expect. Plus, you insulted me, so I’m going to beat the living daylights out of you to make myself feel better. Comprende or no?”
Rich’s hands were balled into tight fists, and Aldous could see his companion wasn’t bluffing. He reminded himself that, in their current situation, normal ethics didn’t apply. He held up his hands in surrender.
“Richard, I’m sorry. You are completely right, and I was completely wrong. I apologize for being rude. I should’ve taken your feelings into deeper consideration.”
Rich was stunned by the totality of Aldous’s retreat and his own victory, so much so that he was flummoxed for a moment. Rich was an average-sized man at best, as was Aldous, so to see the chief cowering instantly was unexpected. He suspected a trick and replied dubiously, “Uh, you know, you’re saying you’re sorry, but I don’t really feel like you’re sorry. You know?”
“Richard,” Aldous quick
ly retorted before Rich could move in and attack him, “I am sincere. My only excuse is that, like you, I’m worried about my family. The stress is making me lose my patience—I am so, so sorry. I’ll not treat you as anything other than an equal again. Of that, you have my word.”
“Wow,” Rich replied as he lowered his hands. “Now I’m not even mad. I just feel really sorry for you.” He backed away, his expression still confused before he turned back to his seat in the pilot’s chair.
“The question still remains,” Aldous began, after allowing a few moments to pass to make sure the tension had settled, “where are we headed?”
Rich sighed. “I’m open to suggestions from the peanut gallery.”
“Venus.”
“Venus?” Rich replied, stunned. “You do know James annexed Venus to the Purists, right?”
“I was aware when he did it,” Aldous confirmed. “It was rather obvious when vessels that could carry hundreds of passengers started ferrying back and forth between the planet and Purist territory. It wasn’t a decision I agreed with, but then, James and A.I. haven’t given a lot of consideration to my opinions lately.”
“Uh, I know this is probably a sensitive subject, but James said you hate the Purists.” Rich held out his hands, confused. “So…why…”
“It’s the most logical place for us to go. It’s a lower priority for the androids, there’s no strong A.I. mainframe for them to attack, no post-humans in need of assimilation. Although it’s likely that the androids detected the activity of the Purists by now, it still remains the best location for us to regroup and, hopefully, post-human survivors will have made it there alive.” He locked his eyes earnestly on Rich’s. “Your family could be there.”
“But how would we ever find them?” Rich asked. “Without the A.I., the range of the mind’s eye communication network is total crap.” He held his hands out in frustration at the sophisticated instrument panel in front of him. “Even this ship’s sensors are nearly useless. Everything depended on that mainframe! I can’t even scan Venus to find out if the androids are amassing their forces around it or if they’ve launched an attack. Hell, I can’t even send a message to Venus! We might as well be on a raft in the middle of an ocean.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Aldous replied. “While we can’t communicate instantly with them, we can send them a message with radio signals.”
“Radio?” Rich replied, aghast. “Dear God, are we savages now?”
“Venus is approximately 150,000,000 kilometers from Earth at the moment, so—” Aldous began before Rich contorted his face in disbelief.
“Whoa, how do you know that off the top of your head?”
“Richard,” Aldous replied, “I am—was—the chief of the governing council. I’m aware of where the planet we were supposed to be terraforming currently is in its orbiting cycle, especially when I see thousands of colonists being transplanted there without my clearance. Venus is currently at very close to the halfway point in its distance from Earth, and if we calculate the speed of the radio signals, then it should only take approximately eight and a half minutes for a message to reach them. Assuming they reply while we make our way to them, closing the gap in the meantime, we should have some sort of answer within fifteen minutes.”
“A quarter of an hour? Jesus. Why don’t we send smoke signals?”
Aldous persevered. “And the nanobots are still functioning. Yes, it’s true that they can’t be updated, and it’s true that they aren’t powerful enough for long-distance communications, but if we get to Venus, we may be able to communicate with your family if they made it there.”
“Venus is a huge planet,” Rich countered. “What’s the range?”
“I’m not sure,” Aldous admitted, “but an educated guess would be 1,000 kilometers.”
Rich sighed mournfully before shutting his eyes and bowing his head. It was all he could do to prop himself up with his hands on his knees to keep himself from collapsing out of his chair.
Aldous crossed the bridge and reached out, patting Rich’s shoulder to steady him. “I know that’s not far, but it’s not hopeless either. Don’t lose your hope, Richard. I believe in my heart you’ll be reunited with your family.”
Rich took in a deep breath, but didn’t respond to the kind gesture as he thought of his family, and then of Djanet. She should’ve been able to respond to him. Something happened to her or she would’ve been able to answer me before the mainframe went down, he thought. She had to have been assimilated. An idea suddenly crossed in front of his eyes, causing him to lift his head suddenly, shocking Aldous.
“Where do the androids construct the bodies of the assimilated?”
“I-I have no idea,” Aldous replied.
“There must be a place. There must be a way we can—”
“Even if there was,” Aldous cut him off, speaking gently but clearly, “Not even this ship could survive a direct assault on one of those android behemoths—it would be like a fruit fly attacking a bear.”
“But maybe, together, we could figure out how to work the weapon James was—”
“That’s exceedingly unlikely, Richard. We’re mere mortals now. And besides, you don’t know of anyone who has been assimilated for sure. It’s just as likely that our loved ones are on Venus.”
Rich clenched his teeth, frustrated as he slammed his fist down on the instrument panel. A second later, he took in a quick, deep breath and started inputting the course for Venus. “Send your damn smoke signal, Chief. If we get confirmation that the Purists are still alive, then we’ll figure it out from there.”
Aldous smiled, relieved. “A good choice, Richard—a very wise choice indeed.”
7
“What the hell is this place?” Old-timer asked as he flew over the modern, sleek skyline of the city by the shore deep inside the bowels of the android constructor vessel.
Jules flew next to him, a single, sinewy tendril unfurled from near Old-timer’s ribcage having driven itself into the back of her skull, hidden by her strawberry hair, the tendril having latched itself on to her mechanical brainstem so that Old-timer had access to her communication system. “It’s Eden,” she replied.
Old-timer’s initial reaction was that Eden was a dark joke and that his prisoner was being deliberately abrasive, but he could feel her emotions through their connection, and there was no hint that she was being untruthful. To her, they really were in Eden.
He craned his neck and looked up at the sky—it was beautiful and sunny—a perfect mid-afternoon sky on a perfect summer day. There was even a slightly cool breeze on his skin as they flew away from the city and over the water below.
“It’s a simulated sky,” Jules offered, anticipating his question. “And an artificial sun, but the rest is real—the forests, parks, rivers, city, suburbs...everything.”
“Why?” Old-timer asked. “You’re machines, for God’s sake.”
“We’re human,” Jules replied, tentative in her speech but honest in her answers. “I’m sorry you can’t believe that, but it’s true. And like all humans, we long for Eden.”
Old-timer looked straight down and saw a couple in a small fishing boat, rowing into the middle of the lake. To his astonishment, they were accompanied by an android that appeared to be a youth, sporting a fishing rod. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“What did you think?” Jules responded, calmly but challengingly, “that we’re all mindless drones, flying around through space, conquering other humans for the fun of it and then plugging into batteries in our cubicles until the next conquest?”
Old-timer was speechless.
Jules dared turn her head to look at him. “Heh. You did think that. Now who’s kidding who?”
“So you live inside manmade paradises inside these ships?”
“Human-made,” she corrected him. “And yes. You can think of our communities as the jelly in the center of the donut. It’s the best part. No more wars, no more crime, no more sickness, no more
suffering, and every day the weather is perfect. We’re living out eternity here. It’s about as close to Utopia as any of us will ever see.”
They began to reach the far side of the lake and the holographically projected sky seemed to dissipate, and the ugly, metallic, corpse-like bowels of the ship began to reappear. They were headed for a dark circle in particular, a gigantic opening that would take them farther inside the ship via a tunnel that stretched for dozens of kilometers.
Once they’d entered, Old-timer spoke again.
“Jules, just who the hell are you?”
“I grew up in San Diego, a diehard Chargers fan. I have two older sisters, both of whom live just a few blocks away from me in Eden.”
Old-timer was dumbfounded again. Is this another trick? he asked himself. Or are these androids not aliens at all? At least not in the traditional sense. Are they human? Are they from Earth?
“Is that enough, or you want to know my favorite color too?”
“When were you, uh…”
“Rescued?”
“Assimilated,” Old-timer asserted.
She narrowed her eyes slightly but let their semantic differences slide. “Eight years ago.”
“The androids came to your Earth?”
“Yes.”
“Did you resist?”
“Of course. We were terrified, but they were overwhelming.”
“I don’t understand,” Old-timer shook his head slightly.
“I know,” Jules replied, as though Old-timer’s statement was blatantly obvious. “If you understood, you wouldn’t be kidnapping me.”
“If you were assimilated against your will,” Old-timer continued, ignoring her argument, “why are you willing to stay here? Why are you willing to be 1’s slave? What broke your will to resist? Don’t you want to be human again?”
“For the last time,” Jules began after sighing deeply, “I am human. And it isn’t about breaking anybody’s will. The collective just told us the truth, and once we knew the truth, we knew what we had to do.”
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