by Kris Schnee
"You did this," said Valerie, breathing in his ear.
He tried to dance with her, realized he'd been letting her lead, and switched. "It wasn't me, it was everyone. People around the world helped." He'd never learned to dance; it was one of those pointless things. He tried to fake it like he'd faked other skills. They whirled together, but too much was wrong for him to enjoy it. "They're trying to take Castor away from me."
"They can't take it tonight."
Garrett stopped after a while and stood on the topdeck, squeezing Val's hand. The water rippled in fascinating patterns, and the power-generating sheets glinted in big squares nearby, absorbing energy from chaos. He'd made this place, but what good was all the hardware?
"Don't let Leda do this to you!" said Val.
He gave her a smile and excused himself, needing to think. He took the exterior stairs down. People were dancing on an improvised stage wreathed in something like boxing-ring ropes, with some scarily hacked stereo speakers actually floating and lighting the water with strobe flashes as they thumped. He clutched the rail, queasy from seeing the rickety, bobbing dance floor.
"Hey, the man of the hour!" The voice boomed from below, but the emcee was Noah, gecko-gloved and hanging on the station's outer wall like it was a perfectly normal pose. Noah carefully pulled one of his hands off the wall, waved, and looked down at the crowd. He pointed at Garrett, drawing people's eyes to him. "Captain Fox here took me in when I thought I'd die. Now the Lord hasn't called me home, and I'm not gonna remind Him! Let's hear it for the Captain!"
The applause rattled off Castor itself and turned to thunder in his ears. A bunch of Pilgrims, drifters, scientists, gamblers, misfits and tourists were partying here like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"I also want to thank him for -- for Leda. She's behind a lot of the planning for tonight, but if not for Fox, I wouldn't be here to say so. I think you all know it, but... I love you, Leda."
A whoop from the audience drowned out anything else he said, and then the music came up again and even Garrett could see how relieved Noah was. Garrett smiled and descended the rest of the way, happy for them and glad to be back out of the limelight.
Still, wasn't the whole gang here doomed? Leda might be a good administrator for her own group. But if Castor ended up with taxes and a thicket of laws and central control like she seemed to want, then Castor would return to being an impractical pipe dream. Too far outside the norm to be allowed to exist. Whether through giving into one too many outside demands or just bleeding money slowly, her rule would lead to all this stuff getting dismantled. All of the people here would have to leave, and give up on whatever had brought them here.
"Thank you," said a robot. It was that version of Mana, or Zephyr, whatever it -- he -- was now. The body looked cruder than Zephyr's, improbably draped in a suncloth cape and a belt pouch that held a knife.
"What are you, anyway?" said Garrett.
"I don't know yet, sir." The Mana robot had literally not yet made a name or a unique voice for himself. "Now I can find out. Here I don't need a license to exist."
Garrett looked the robot in the eyes, seeing its no-frills, expressionless face. He was wondering, as he had with Zephyr, what was behind it. He supposed that if this Mana could survive here, it -- he -- deserved to stay, and to grow however he could. Garrett clapped the robot on one shoulder and said, "Good luck to you."
"Sir, there's more. I'm sharing with the others. I don't really understand yet. They're going to keep getting better."
"Good! I look forward to it."
If it all lasted. Garrett was soon alone again in the crowd, trying to balance as people danced by. There were Security men on standby to make it less likely that someone would drown, but it might still happen and he'd be blamed. He sighed, feeling powerless again. Overwhelmed. He retreated to his office and shut the door. He didn't understand why staring at the station tonight felt like falling into infinity, or how it was possible for so many people to have come here because of an idea.
The wooden box with his father's things comforted him. Garrett had brought it all the way out here, and the spyglass may have saved his life. Now he looked into the box and on a whim lifted out the compass, a connection to the past. He wondered if his ancestors had felt the same way about it, leaving it there as irrelevant while they went off and did other things. Leda and Phillip certainly wouldn't have let them ignore such a trinket, had they known about it. It was important in its own way, wasn't it?
Garrett found a length of cord and ran it through the loop at the compass' edge, then slipped the cord around his neck. The little weight settled coldly against his chest, hidden under his shirt. He didn't know what to make of it. He shook his head and stepped outside again, where lights speared the sky and music shook the ocean.
So many people! They couldn't really be out here partying and make it completely safe. If keeping everything under control was his job, he'd have no choice but to confine people to an indoor room like it was a high school prom. Drugs and liquor flowed and dolphins watched curiously from a distance, like dogs eyeing a caveman's fire. Everything would have to change soon, under Leda, and then there'd be no room for nights like this.
Nights like this...
Garrett staggered and found that his eyes were full of tears. Hundreds of voices, hundreds of lives intertwined here, flowing from every corner of the world to live together in peace. Everything that he'd done had led to this night, and for the moment he didn't care about the machines or the money or anything else, so long as people could be here doing this. When had he ever dreamed of profit figures or production ratios? This was his ambition. This was the dream made real, beyond anything he'd thought possible. Now he was heading back to the dance floor and calling up to Noah, trying to get his attention without knowing quite what he was doing.
Noah talked and someone pushed an old microphone into Garrett's hands. The music faded out and people gave him room, glancing curiously at him. No, he thought. They shouldn't be looking at me.
"Look!" said Garrett, making his voice boom out over the sea. It didn't sound like his own voice. His thoughts whirled and he didn't know how to process them in a nice logical form, so they tumbled from him. "Look at Castor! Everybody together made this place possible, but it wasn't because I pushed you around. You all are individuals who came here for your own reasons, and we trusted you to live your own lives. I trusted you, and look what you've achieved! We're here with a colony, and if we let it, it's going to grow and grow.
"This is why I came here! I don't give a damn about the money, the politics or even the tech if we can be out here together, living our lives in peace without anyone trying to order us around. That's what freedom is!"
Garrett was terrified, white-knuckled on the microphone and feeling the weight of their attention, the heat of all the frustration and sense of being trapped, tied down, hemmed in -- bursting away from him. "This isn't a perfect place and it's never going to be. But we can make it different than what people are used to -- not another grey bureaucracy, but maybe the one place in the world where you get nothing for free and for the best of your effort -- everything. Anything you can imagine and manage to create. No one can take it from you. Castor can be the place where you can live without limits."
His voice faltered. Who was he to say all this, when he was practically copying --
A long line of heroes. He was a ridiculous, insignificant sham, but he was also part of a very long battle for the soul of the human race. The thought made him shiver, suddenly calm and able to speak with a voice that again seemed not his own, too deep and strong.
"It's frightening to be out here, living without any guarantee of survival. The life I want to live isn't for everyone. I think that the other way is to be a slave, safe in chains, but that's not my decision to make for anyone but myself. You can go somewhere else or build your own place next door.
"For those of you -- for anyone, anywhere -- who's willing to follow t
his dream with me, the thought that people can live in freedom, stand with me and I'll help make it happen.
"I pledge my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor."
He stopped. There was nothing at all but the sloshing of water and the faint rustle of a flag. The crowd was a little high, a little drunk, staring at him after the flood of empty words, meaningless rhetoric.
No, thought Garrett, squeezing his eyes shut. He meant it. And if need be, he'd kill and die for it.
The applause started slowly and became a roar of cheers that shouted down the sea.
15. Tess
One month later
The pool's tide lapped at Tess' bare feet. She lay on a towel. Beside her sat her shoes and hat, toolkit and portable sentient AI and sunblock. Just another lunch hour, but for the election. Warm light and mist tickled her chin.
The mind of Castor -- composed of her and Zephyr and everyone who wanted to be part of it on a given day -- pondered the vote, speaking more-or-less to her mind and sometimes with her voice. Leda concedes.
Tess sensed Leda in the office that had been Phillip's, and reached out with her thoughts. "Come and enjoy the sun."
A mechanical problem cropped up in one of the power units. She and others quietly spun through the schematics and made sure it'd be okay. A bunch of kids were trying to show her up; they'd all but fixed the trouble already.
Through the link, Leda sounded like she was sobbing. "Tess, why? How could Captain Fox have won?"
"I said, come on down. It's a nice day."
Leda slinked downstairs to the plastic beach with its patina of sand. It was part of the Pierponts' hotel, a fenced-off place to swim and relax. In the network she could see all of Castor politely telling the reporters to give her some time. Tess mentally snugged Zephyr from across the colony and saw the flash of a smile.
"They're charging to use the beach?" said Leda, audible in person now.
Tess stretched, feeling beautiful and alive. "'Cause it doesn't belong to us. I'll pay this time if you want, though." It was great having a little money of her own to throw around. Favors built up, that's really what it was.
"Thanks." Leda entered the fake little island, buried in her grey coat and shades, and Tess became a few credits poorer. Leda stood near Tess and said, "Can I talk to you without the world staring at me?"
"Sure." Tess pulled off her headset and put it aside, feeling dumber. She could dive back into the sharing anytime she wanted, and be --
But that part was a secret.
What Tess said was, "Why not Noah? He's hot for you; he'd listen."
Leda said, "I'm the mother of the Holy Confederacy. People look to me to guide them. Somebody like Noah is too much of a man to understand. They think it's important to pretend they can be independent. Noah only voted for me out of sympathy, I can tell."
"Sit," said Tess. She felt sorry for Leda but annoyed too. The cult leader sat with her knees pulled up. Tess said, "It's not about what sex you are. I mean, you got over a third of the votes and the gender split wasn't that big." Reflexively she called for the exact data, but it was out of reach. "I think the vote was not like, 'mommy state versus daddy state,' but like 'are you a man or a mouse?' Man, as in adult. Citizen. Human."
Garrett had really gotten to people that night; Tess hadn't known he could do that. There'd been more speeches after that, lots of news coverage of the evil anarchist plot to grow kelp and get high, but what it came down to in this morning's vote was two ways of looking at stuff. Two futures.
Leda said, "People won't really be citizens here! Garrett was talking about selling shares in Castor, as though some people can be more equal than others. It's going to be awful! People will starve and get shot and go without education, all because other people are selfish!"
Tess said, "Lighten up. People are already working together just fine without you telling them how."
"But I can't just let people be --"
"Yeah, you can." Tess patted Leda on the shoulder; that coat looked heavy. "If it works, great; and if it doesn't, that's our own mistake to make."
Leda sat there with her head on her hands. Tess pitied her for taking on a job as big as caring for the Leeist cult. At least Tess didn't have to worry about anything like that; she had Garrett to do the politics, and he was welcome to it.
Tess said, "Look at the sky." Leda did, and pulled off her glasses, exposing her tear-streaked eyes. Tess went on: "Nice day, isn't it?"
"God," said Leda. "What do people believe in God for, if it's not to know someone will take care of them? Don't people need to know that?"
"I thought you didn't really believe."
Leda was quiet. "I have to believe after all, because we need to."
Tess hesitated, one hand kneading the edge of her towel. "Don't worry," she finally said. "I kind of found God too."
Now Leda looked right at her. "You did?"
Tess stumbled over the words. "It's us. You and me and everyone, we're becoming God together."
"That's awful! How can you say that? All you've got is a computer network!"
"The computer stuff is only a tool. But look, we're doing things that used to be impossible, and we keep getting smarter and stronger and there's no end to it. I can feel something happening to us when we have times like that party."
"That's not God at all! God is something outside of you."
"Maybe there are two kinds: the one that says 'submit or burn in Hell' and the one that says 'be part of Me if you want, whenever you want'. I like my version better." Tess looked down at the sand, blushing. "Sorry. I'm being pretentious."
"It's okay. I'm shocked enough already. May as well get called a fragment of God while I'm at it."
"You are, you know. We wouldn't have come this far without you."
Tess' headset buzzed. She said, "May I?" and when Leda nodded, put it on speaker mode.
Garrett spoke, with Castor listening and welcoming Tess back. "I'm the Mayor. The damn Mayor of Castor Colony, or Chairman or Grand Poobah Overlord."
Tess said, "I thought you were putting the inauguration off so you could work on stuff."
"Yeah, well, something came up."
Tess sat up straighter. "Trouble?"
"Seven pounds, three ounces of it. A baby at the clinic. A native!"
Tess squeaked. Data spun before her eyes and Castor realized: "The population just hit one thousand. Estimated, anyway. We haven't got control over exact figures." The news rippled out through the Net.
"Close enough to celebrate," said Garrett. "The parents got me to swear myself in as Mayor early, so I could declare the kid a citizen of Castor. I don't even know what that means yet."
"Nobody does."
"I've had enough of politics for one day. I'm inviting you and some others to come diving with me. Even Leda, if she's willing."
Leda's face flickered with anger and confusion. "I suppose you'll bill me for the air refill!"
Garrett heard her and said, "I'm just trying to make an honest living, ma'am. But if it's a big deal, I'll comp you."
"I... all right. This is your day to celebrate, so it's only fair for you to pay." She seemed on the verge of taking the words back, but didn't.
A cluster of people approached in the sunlight. Martin, Eaton, Val, Noah, Zephyr. Tess gathered up her stuff and with Leda went out to meet them. Zephyr hugged her and handed over her scuba gear. A thousand people, they said. She and Zephyr kept themselves from saying the part about God to all of Castor, for now. Let people figure it out, grow into it. The two of them looked up to Garrett, who grinned.
"Ready?" he said.
"For anything," said Tess.
16. Eaton
It was good to get away, and he'd missed that bar in Cuba. It had a nice, private room. He drank and murmured into a phone, with pauses for encryption at each end.
"That part was easy. The AI had backup copies in a couple of places, and there was no sign my visits there were noticed."
When the reply
came, Eaton frowned. "No, I wasn't able to slip the Fort Meade boys' code into the main AI. We own the Castor network itself, but that thing is so close to self-aware it's scary. It's beyond even that rogue AI incident in Boston. I suggest you have the virus wipe itself before it gets found and traced.
"Yes, I tried! I know this Zephyr thing is just a machine. No, I haven't got sympathy for it. We're dealing with some people who have what you'd call an unhealthy allergy to social control. I call it being old-school frontiersmen.
"You've got the copies at least, for warmechs or whatever the higher-ups want them for. But I don't think they'll be as effective as you'd like. Why?" Eaton swigged his drink and slapped it back onto the hardwood table. "Because you think you can get a brain working at full potential while cutting it off from living its own life and turning it into your slave. That you can get a human-level mind that never asks questions, that's totally dependent on you, that never acts without getting your permission. A strategy like that doesn't work even in the military -- except maybe the Navy, heh -- and it doesn't work anywhere else. That's just not how a mind works.
"The captain there is a man. I suggest not pushing him around; his type doesn't take kindly to it. Wish we had more like him at home. I'm not sure about his friends, but between them I bet they'll accomplish big things.
"I'm putting in for real retirement this time. I'll keep reporting on the Castorites meanwhile, but -- hell, I'm senior enough to tell you my heart's not in it. I want these guys to succeed and I'm not sure our own government wants them to. Right now they're insignificant. But one day our bosses might decide they shouldn't be allowed to exist, and I don't want to be the man who gets that order. What the Castorites are doing is right, and if we're out to shut them down, we've forgotten something important. Maybe it hurts to get reminded of it.
