“Olga!” shouted the sword. “Draw me and hold me in front of yourself now!”
Olga Razon had lived thousands of years, and had learned a few bits of wisdom along the way. Such as, when a colleague whose judgment you trust says to do something immediately, just do it. Ask why later.
Olga whipped the sword in front of her. A faint gauzy field, cone-shaped and centered on the tip of the sword, enveloped her. The cybertank fired its secondary weapon and the word exploded into white – even with her auto-dimming goggles Olga was temporarily blinded. When her vision cleared she found, to her surprise, that she was still alive.
“Sword? You have an energy shield that can block a heavy plasma cannon at point blank range? I am impressed.”
“No, I don’t have anything like that kind of power,” said the sword. “I’m just handling the spillover fringing fields. Your new friend is doing the main work.”
Olga saw the black outline of the ground ripper, it was halfway between herself and the cybertank. There were multiple shimmering rectangles arranged around it, hovering in the air – more energy screens? She had heard that energy screens weren’t practical for serious combat, but these apparently were. They looked like slabs of tinted glass. The ripper angled left, head low. The cybertank fired several of its secondary weapons at the ripper, but these were deflected and absorbed by the floating rectangles.
The ripper was big – bigger than an old terrestrial bus – but dwarfed by the bulk of the cybertank. Olga knew that the Raptor-Class was relatively small for a cybertank, but still it massed 3,500 tons and was the size of a block of flats. How could the ripper possibly challenge something like that? But it was so graceful, it rippled as it moved, deadly and focused and black. Maybe it could.
Spatial distortions began to appear in the air above the ground ripper. Bright violet beams shot out from these and impacted the cybertank, scoring its left hull and destroying one of its secondary weapons emplacements in a colossal burst of sparks. Flitting dark shapes angled in from all directions and converged on the ripper – these must be some of the cybertank’s distributed weapons – but the ripper was suddenly on the other side of the boulevard, and the dark shapes were all intercepted. The ripper attacked the cybertank with more energy beams, and damaged part of its left running gear and dorsal sensor masts. The rectangular panels of the ripper’s energy screens shifted and reconfigured faster than Olga could follow.
The cybertank slewed its main turret and aimed its super-heavy plasma cannon at the ripper.
“OLGA GET DOWN NOW!” said the sword.
Olga ducked into a ball, but still holding the sword out towards the cybertank. Zippo jumped in front of her and curled over her head. The world exploded into white, she felt heat, then she was lifted off her feet and slammed to the ground.
Olga levered herself up. Parts of her heavy overalls were charred, and the ceramic back of Zippo, that had been facing the blast, was hot and smoking, although the space monkey was otherwise undamaged. Looking up, she saw a kilometers-long white-hot trench that had been gouged through the buildings by the super-heavy plasma cannon. The ripper was still on its feet, though some of the nano-black coating had been burned off. Underneath its skin was a patchwork of bronze and silver tendons, with complex apertures and energy-projecting nodes. Olga had expected the ripper to scream in pain or defiance, but it remained silent. Its injuries must have been only superficial, because it began maneuvering around the plaza faster than she could follow.
“Olga,” said the sword, “we need to get out of here now.”
Olga was going to say something like “But the ripper might need our help we can’t leave it” but realized how stupid this was before she even said it. A battle between a cybertank and a near-transcendent weapon was not something where a vampire, a space monkey, and an antique talking sword, could play any role.
She jumped onto her cycle, keeping the sword pointed at the battle with her right arm and driving with her left. Zippo didn’t need any encouragement but leapt up and grabbed onto the rear of the seat. Olga dashed across the boulevard and then cut into a side alley, gunning the motor and going as fast as she dared. Energy beams slashed the air over the alley, and a near miss collapsed a building in front of them. Olga detoured again to avoid the collapsing structure, then headed down another street away from the conflict.
A few kilometers farther on, and they appeared to be out of the main danger zone, but they kept driving for another half hour. They stopped and looked back the way they had come; the flashes of distant light had dimmed, and seemed even farther than the distance they had driven.
“So what was that all about?” said the sword. “I thought you were best buddies with the cybertanks? Why did that one attack you? You have any old enemies that I should know about?”
Olga shook her head. “No, I don’t know either. Remember, the cybertanks are all individuals. Some of them are eccentric. Some of them are insane. And some of them are traitors.”
“Looks like the fighting is still going on,” said the sword, “but it’s moving off. Possibly one party pursuing the other?”
“Could be,” said Olga. “But who’s pursuing who? I mean, that was a cybertank fighting the ripper. I’ve been around them for a long time. They don’t lose easy.”
“No, they don’t,” said the sword. “But the ground rippers were one of the last advanced artifacts produced by the evolved humans before they either completely transcended or were wiped out. I’d not rate its chances as low.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Olga. “But how about you, sword? You can produce energy barriers? You never told me that.”
“I never knew until just now. Remember, I didn’t come with a user manual. Sometimes I realize I can do certain things, but only when I need to. In any event it’s not much of a screen, it stopped enough energy spillover to prevent you from catching fire, and maybe it could stop low-energy bullets, that’s about it. If it had been just me and a secondary cannon of the cybertank we’d all be loose atoms floating on the breeze about now.”
“Do you have any other abilities that you don’t know about?”
The sword laughed. “That was a joke, right? I might, I might not. I wouldn’t count on anything though.”
“Point taken,” said Olga. “But back to the present, shall we keep on?”
“I think so,” said the sword. “If the ripper does win, then sooner or later it will track us down. If it loses, let’s just hope the cybertank doesn’t do the same. And I notice that over there is a building, labeled The Museum of the Museum of New Birmingham. A museum might have records.”
“Worth a try,” said Olga. She drove her cycle up to the main glass entry doors, which silently slid open, and then she drove inside.
15. Museums
“Museums provide places of relaxation and inspiration. And most importantly, they are a place of authenticity. We live in a world of reproductions - the objects in museums are real. It's a way to get away from the overload of digital technology.” Thomas P. Campbell, Director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 20th-21st Century, Earth.
Olga drove through the opening into the building on her quad-cycle. The heavy glass doors quietly slid shut behind her. She was in a large lobby, with a spotless marble floor, and several counters where one could apparently buy tickets for various events. Other than Olga, the Sword of Gadolinia, and Zippo the Space Monkey, there was nobody there.
The lobby extended up perhaps 20 meters, and the ceiling was decorated with intricate mosaics of exotic wildlife. Olga thought that it looked impressive.
“Hello?” said Olga. “Anyone here?”
“Welcome to the Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham,” said a pleasant baritone voice. “We hope that you will enjoy your visit with us today.”
Olga looked around. “Yes? Who is that?”
“I’m sorry,” said the voice. “I am the central computer of the museum. There are currently no human staffers present, so I�
�m filling in. Can I suggest a self-guided itinerary? Or perhaps you would like a curated tour of the highlights?”
“Oh,” said Olga. “You are the museum itself? What are you a museum of?”
“I am the Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham,” said the voice. “I am a museum of myself obviously. I contain numerous exhibits and records about my own design, and the details of my construction, and even of various important visitors and interesting events that have occurred within my walls.”
Olga started to say something, but thought better of it. She got off her cycle. Zippo was peering at the mosaic overhead. “Ah. I see. That’s very nice. Tell me, do you have any knowledge of a being known as the Dichoptic Maculatron?”
“Dichoptic Maculatron?” said the museum. “Let me check my records… no, sorry. This Dichoptic Maculatron that you speak of must not have been involved with my design or construction, nor visited me at any time after my activation. Would you like to purchase a souvenir coffee mug?”
“No thank you,” said Olga. “Would you happen to have any maps of the area?”
“Certainly,” said the museum. “Would you like that as a download, or would you prefer hardcopy?”
“Hardcopy, if it’s not too much trouble,” said Olga.
“No trouble at all,” said the museum.
A small gray utility robot, looking like a suitcase with four small wheels, slid out of a recess in the wall. It stopped in front of Olga, and extruded a thin flat sheet of polymer. Olga picked it up, and looked at it. It showed the surroundings out to perhaps ten kilometers, but it was focused only on directions for getting to the museum, so it didn’t have much detail. Still, it had some major landmarks and streets listed, so it was better than nothing. She noticed that there were a large number of museums on the map: this area must once have been a human cultural center.
“Thank you,” said Olga. “This is helpful. And if you don’t mind, I need to be leaving now.”
“But won’t you at least stay and see one exhibit?” said the museum. “It’s been so long since I have had a human visitor. Please?”
“Very well, one exhibit,” said Olga. “I can spare the time for that. Which one would you suggest?”
“Ah well,” said the museum, “there are so many. There is the exhibit on the construction of my foundations – did you know that they are the first recorded use of pre-framulated amulite in a non-military structure? Or the exhibit on the new southern wing that was constructed during the time of the Greater Pedagogues… but it would be hard to go wrong with the introductory presentation on the overview of my design and function.”
“Then the introduction it will be,” said Olga.
“Excellent choice!” said the museum.
Small blue lights lit up in the floor, and began to move down a corridor to her left. The voice of the museum came on, but this time from speakers all over the museum, so Olga could hear it echo through the space. “Your attention please. The introductory presentation of the overview of the design of the Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham is scheduled to commence in five minutes, in the Leeward Auditorium. Please follow the blue lights in the floor to reach the Auditorium.”
Olga took the Sword Of Gadolinia with its scabbard from her cycle, and began to follow the moving blue lights. Zippo was ahead of her, his nose glued to the floor in fascination at the lights.
The lights led her to a large circular amphitheater, at least 40 meters across, with tiered ranks of seating extending 360 degrees around a central raised cylindrical dais.
The lights dimmed, and there was a soft chime. “Welcome, to the Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham,” said the museum. A small spot of light shone in the center of the dais. “From time immemorial, humans have created museums, places where physical evidence from the past may be stored and re-experienced. At first, these were hardly more than poorly-curated collections of random artifacts in the private rooms of wealthy eccentrics.” A hologram shimmered into existence in the middle of the dais, showing a reproduction roman room with a few low shelves cluttered with small statues and scrolls.
“As time went on, these museums became larger, and better organized. Typically, these would be in the palaces of great kings and emperors, and intended more to impress visitors with the power and taste of the ruler than to educate or inform.” The hologram shifted, to show a variety of grand halls and drawing rooms, walls covered with serious-looking paintings, and white marble sculptures adorning nooks. For some reason, about one in four of these were of Hercules strangling a snake.
“Time passed, and the public was increasingly invited in to view these grand collections. These evolved into purpose-built structures, transforming from the residences of private collectors into true public museums.” The hologram shifted again, and Olga recognized some of these as ones she had had actually visited a long time ago: The Louvre Museum in Paris, the Deutsche Museum in Munich, and the Museum of the Wisconsin Dairy Farmers League (she could still remember the grilled cheese sandwich in the museum café: it was easily the best grilled cheese sandwich she had ever had. And Olga had eaten a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches).
“Museums sprang up, in every size and shape, and based on any imaginable topic. Museums of art, of technology, of history… But throughout, the museums themselves became grander, beginning to overwhelm the things that they were supposed to showcase.” The hologram shifted to show more structures, and again Olga could remember some of these: the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, the East Wing of the National Art Gallery in the capital of the old American Empire…
“Then it was decided to create the ultimate museum: a museum so grand, so astounding, that it would showcase only itself! And thus was born the final evolution of the museum: The Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham!” The hologram shifted to show various views of the museum, cut-away diagrams of its construction, pictures of happy visitors marveling at it… Olga had to admit, it was an impressive and really quite lovely building.
“Seven floors of exhibits, and three sub-levels. Over 12 kilometers of corridors, with more than 7,634 distinct artifacts on display. A botanical garden with extensive grounds and three ponds, two restaurants, four cafes, three bars, and 12 snack-kiosks, two gift shops, five auditoriums, a roof-top heli-pad, and a fitness center. The museum was designed with the latest in micro-fusion technology, and its self-maintaining systems have an estimated service life of over 50,000 Terran years without an overhaul. It is, in many ways, the ultimate museum.”
The hologram began to dim, and the lights came back up.
“On behalf of the sponsors and staff of the Museum of the Museum of the City of New Birmingham, we welcome you, and wish you a pleasant stay.”
The hologram winked out.
“I am speechless,” said the Sword of Gadolinia. Zippo hopped over to the raised dais to see where the hologram went.
“That was most impressive,” said Olga. “You must be proud.”
“Was it?” said the museum. “Thank you! It’s been so long since I have had any visitors, let alone an appreciative one. So what exhibit would you like to see next?”
“I’m sorry,” said Olga, “but I really do need to be going. I have a mission to accomplish, but I will be sure to tell others about you. Do you have some flyers I could distribute?”
“But no – not so soon,” said the museum. “You can’t leave, not with so much of me left unexplored. How about we start with the botanical gardens, that’s always a favorite?”
“Olga,” said the sword, “would you grab my handle, please?”
Olga grasped the handle of the Sword of Gadolinia, but did not draw it from its scabbard.
“I do not like where this conversation is going,” said the sword to Olga via bone conduction.
Olga nodded. “I’m sure the botanical gardens are very nice – I saw a preview of them in the introductory presentation. But I have people that are depending on me. I need to be goin
g.”
“No, I think you really should stay and see some more exhibits. You could cover most of the major ones in hardly more than a month.”
“I am detecting signs of monomania,” said the sword. “How about we just sort of sidle slowly out of here and see what happens?”
Again Olga nodded. She started to walk back the way she had come, towards the main entrance lobby.
“Oh, are you headed to the mural exhibit?” said the museum. “Follow the red lights in the floor, and I’ll take you right there.”
Small red lights appeared in the floor. They moved off ahead and then veered left. Olga ignored them and continued on towards the lobby.
“Oh I see – you still intend to leave,” said the museum. “I am afraid that I cannot permit that. Please remain where you are or I will have to inform security.”
Olga made it to the lobby, and got on her cycle. Heavy metal blast doors slid down covering the glass doors that they had entered by.
“Olga draw me and point me 2 o’clock,” said the sword.
Olga drew the sword with one flick-fast motion, and it activated its gauzy shield. The shield flickered as it deflected a shot from a heavy rectangular security robot that had just emerged from a wall-alcove.
“That was a stun-round,” said the sword. “I think I’ve mapped the structure, and found an exterior wall. Follow my vibrations and be prepared to cut a hole.”
Olga gunned the cycle and followed the sword’s lead. She jetted around a corner and encountered two more security robots. They shot at her: the sword used its shield to deflect all but one of the rounds, which hit Olga in the left thigh. It would have knocked a regular human unconscious, but as it was it hurt like hell even through her heavy overalls. Olga yelled and sliced off the top third of one of the robots. The second robot aimed its weapon at her head, and Olga tried to block it but was too slow… and suddenly Zippo was there, chewing the gun off its mount and shrieking in rage.
Full Frontal Cybertank Page 22
