He nods in wordless thanks, and falls to his knees beside Mira. I don’t hear what he says, but when he rises again there’s a look of hope on his tear-stained face. “Make this world a better place, Rowan,” he says. “For Mira’ sake.”
With great reverence, Lachlan picks up Mira’s body and we ride toward Harmonia. As we travel, I think about EcoPan. It seems like such a contradiction most of the time. Sometimes I believe that it is truly benevolent, that it is struggling with the limitations of its wires and chips to truly understand humanity and do what is best for it. Yet there is a corruption in EcoPan, too. There is something so calculating and cold, so indifferent. I feel like in a perfect world, EcoPan could really make the Earth a paradise.
But there’s something wrong with it. It’s had a thousand years, and the best it could do was Eden and Harmonia.
Yes, destroying it is the right thing to do. It must be.
If only so there aren’t quite so many voices in your head, Yarrow quips. One alter ego for you to listen to is quite enough, thank you. I’m just glad I don’t have to listen to that computer yammer in my brain.
“My brain,” I murmur, and shake my head when Lachlan asks me what I said.
The whole time I’m expecting the hypertube to screech to a halt, for securitybots to tear open the walls and attack us. But nothing tries to stop us.
We emerge, far enough away from Harmonia so they don’t know we are there, and a little bit of orienteering and a short hike later we are at Mira’s secret garden.
“We have to be ready,” Lachlan says. “EcoPan must know what we’re doing. It will try to stop us.”
I do my best to shield my thoughts in case EcoPan can listen in. I feel Yarrow hoarding the information, building a wall around herself, and I try to banish from my own mind everything we are about to do. I can feel EcoPan in my brain, a silent presence, lurking like a toad in the mud.
I start to open the door hidden in the tangle of rhododendrons. “It’s fitting that you’re the one finally destroying EcoPan,” Lachlan says. “All of this is because of you.”
I know he means it as praise, but his words strike me painfully. All of this. All this death, all this torture. And the change, which we hope to achieve . . . will it be for the better? For all its failings, EcoPan has kept humanity alive, and the Earth clean and healthy. When EcoPan is gone, what will stop humanity from destroying itself again? It did its best to ruin its own civilization, even inside Eden. Only EcoPan kept the whole thing from collapsing, by stepping in and resetting society when things went too far wrong. Part of me feels like we went so wrong because we were in a false society. Prisoners can’t behave like normal people, no matter how hard they try. The system limits them. I think—I hope—that when people are free they’ll do better. But what if they don’t? History tells me that they will fail, as they have before, over and over again.
And what about the natural world? Without EcoPan to regulate them, with the freedom to roam, to use the world as they see fit, will humans pillage and plunder the Earth again? I share Zander’s fears about that.
How much do we learn from our mistakes?
But I am convinced that we should be given a chance to try.
I take a deep breath. As I turn the key I say out loud, “EcoPan, thank you for serving humanity. But now your time is over.”
FOR JUST A second, we have time to marvel at the beauty of Mira’s garden. How glad I am that we have brought her here for her final resting place. Even if this garden hides EcoPan’s programming, it is the most beautiful spot on Earth. Once we disable EcoPan, this garden will have a new purpose—to honor those who gave their lives so that humanity can be free.
We lay Mira down on a bed of feathery foliage that sprouts pink puffballs of flowers. It is called a sensitive plant, and the responsive leaves curl at every touch. Now it seems like they are embracing her, welcoming her to the Earth.
I see jeweled movement around us, and at first I don’t react. It’s the little bug-bots, the tiny caretakers of this place. One flies toward my face, bumping me, and I gently shoo it away . . .
And feel a small searing pain in my hand.
And another on the back of my neck!
I swat at it, and a small crumpled piece of machinery crumples to the ground. I hear Lachlan yelp in pain as he gets stung, too. The bug-bots are attacking us!
Small but legion, they are desperate to defend their sanctuary, and EcoPan’s programming. We’re inundated by wave after wave of the minuscule attackers. Each wound they inflict is minor, but eventually we’ll die the death of a thousand cuts.
“Where is the programming stored?” Lachlan shouts as he shields his eyes from the attackers.
“Under the statue somewhere, I think. It says where the colossus treads on the water.” We fight our way through the bugs and I stare at the statue.
There are no control panels, no place for a key or a code. If there’s anything hidden here, how do I access it?
“Aaron’s notes just make it sound like it is right under the statue’s feet,” I say.
“Maybe there’s a lock or a switch?” Lachlan suggests as we fight off the attacking bugbots.
I can’t find anything on the statue, but plunge my hands into the water. Finally, my fingers find a knob sticking out of the smooth marble. I grab it and pull, and suddenly the waters part before me. The statue slides back, and a steep, narrow flight of stairs is revealed.
“Go!” Lachlan urges, and I scramble down, with him right behind me. Together, we descend, until I find the glowing golden heart of EcoPan.
It doesn’t look like much. There’s a control panel against one wall, with a lazily flashing light. In the center of the room are two oblong . . . tables? Boxes? I can’t tell. Whatever all this is, if what Aaron Al-Baz wrote is true, everything that makes EcoPan what it is, its heart, its soul—if it has one—is here.
I creep closer, and realize that one of the oblong objects is a marble sarcophagus. It is clear on the top, and when I look down I see what I first think must be a model, plastic or wax, of Aaron in repose, his eyes closed, his hands folded across his chest. Wires connect to his body. Etched on the tomb, opaque against the clear, are his name and the words: A colossus among men, the epitome of humanity, savior of the Earth.
What an arrogant son of a . . . Yarrow begins, but I stop her. We have work to do.
The other raised chamber is empty. I turn to the control panel, the only other thing in the room.
“I wish Carnelian were here,” I say. “At least he had some idea how all this might work.” I know how to use the technology of Eden, but I never learned the science behind it. Lachlan knows a little more, but not much.
“We should have brought explosives,” he mutters.
“No, look here,” I say as I peer at the control panel. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Amid the other buttons is a larger switch, contained under a clear, protective box. Written beneath it are the words “Delete: Permanent.”
“It’s a trap,” Lachlan says, frowning. “It has to be. Who would create a master program to control all humanity and then give it a kill switch?”
“Maybe someone who, for all is arrogance, realized what a monster his creation might become,” I say softly.
“Don’t touch it,” Lachlan says. “It might be rigged with a weapon.”
“Lachlan, we’ve come this far,” I say. “What choice do I have?” And before he can stop me I flip open the protective panel and touch the switch.
Instantly I feel like electricity is coursing through me, paralyzing every muscle in my body. As I fly backward, my last coherent thought for a while is, bik, why is Lachlan always right?
Then the world grows hazy for a while. For a moment I can hear Lachlan’s worried voice, very dimly. Then it disappears, replaced by a new voice.
A voice I recognize.
Somehow, I’m not on the ground anymore. I’m standing, or floating, in a weird amorphous place witho
ut color or form. And then I see him. The air in front of me shimmers, and there’s a man standing before me.
I know him. From statues, from images in our school vids. From my dreams. More than that, though, I know him because he’s been in my head. Part of EcoPan, but separate, too. Ever since I got my lenses, someone has been watching me. I realize that now. Perfectly hidden, I could feel him nonetheless. It was his voice that spoke to me in my head. Not like Yarrow, a part of myself, but an alien thing, an outsider, probing stealthily where it was not welcome.
“Aaron Al-Baz,” I say.
The man smiles. “Only partly. I am the creator and the creation. I have the thoughts and memories, the hopes and dreams, the savagery and mercy of Aaron Al-Baz . . . but also the logic and fixed purpose, the patience and foresight of a machine. I am EcoPan, but the memory of my creator lives in me.”
“He was a madman! He exterminated most of humanity!”
“I know,” the phantasm says. “I . . . he was a great man. But a volcano is great. A crashing meteor is great. All of them can wipe out a civilization, a species, an era. Aaron Al-Baz was flawed. But he is a part of me. I cannot function purely as a machine. As my purpose is to protect humanity, I need humanity within me.”
“Please, let us go,” I beg. “We’re ready to be free of you.”
The figure who looks like Aaron Al-Baz shakes his head. “I don’t believe you are. You evolved to destroy. To take, and use, and ravage. If you were rats or roaches it wouldn’t matter—you would limit yourself with your own destructive exuberance. But being so clever, you could avoid your own demise for long enough to do real damage to the world. If Aaron had not acted as he had, the Ecofail would have indeed happened. The story you tell your children would have been a reality. In another thousand years humanity would have made the planet uninhabitable to all but the most simple life forms. Life would have had to begin anew. He saved you from that.”
“That’s only what you think would have happened,” I say.
“My calculations show it would have been inevitable. And now you want to begin the whole process again?” EcoPan in human form shakes his head. “I have been watching you, Rowan. From the time you were a tiny child I watched you through your parents’ eyes, and through your brother’s. Later, when you broke free from your prison I watched you through the citizens’ eyes, through bots. I was inside Lark’s head when she kissed you.”
I shiver, feeling violated.
“And then,” he goes on, “when you had the lens implants yourself, I was in your head. I could feel your thoughts, sense every motivation. Even after clever Flame thought she severed the connection, I was there, learning who you were. Since then I have been with you all the time.”
“Why me?” I ask, baffled. “What is so special about me?”
The man laughs. “There was nothing special about you, Rowan! Not at first. Do you think I only watched you? Foolish child, I watch everybody! Every single human in Eden is within my reach. And most of them are not worthy of attention. I have seen you kill for what you believe in. I have seen you risk your own life for your cause. I have even seen you put your dearest companions at risk of death and torture to do what you think is right.”
I close my eyes in shame, remembering how I all but forced my friends to follow me into the nanosand.
“Rowan,” he intones gravely, “I will let you destroy me. I was created for a purpose—to serve until humanity could care for itself. I always knew there would come a time when a human would destroy me. Perhaps your advent is a sign that humanity is indeed ready to be free of me.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You’ll let me delete your program?”
“Yes, but there will be a price,” EcoPan goes on. “Flame thought she could completely sever the lens link, but as you know, she was wrong. However, the bond between humanity and me runs deeper than you realize. Once joined, it cannot be severed. If you destroy me, every mind I am closely connected to will be damaged beyond repair. If you terminate me, every human with eye implants will die. The second children, the people of Harmonia, anyone without a lens, will survive. Of those who have lenses only you, because you have learned to block me enough with the Yarrow part of your mind, will survive my termination.”
My hand drops, and I gasp. “You couldn’t be so cruel! You might be a machine, but . . .”
“I have no choice,” he says. “It is a consequence of the link, and beyond my control. My task is to save humanity. Not individual humans—humanity.”
“I can’t do that. You know I can’t. So everything will remain as it is?” I ask miserably. “You’ll keep ruling over Eden, keeping people as virtual slaves . . .”
“Is it so bad?” EcoPan asks me. “Most of humanity was happy and safe and well fed most of the time. There has never been a period in human history when this was so.”
“But we weren’t free.” And now we never will be.
The little what-if portion of my brain considers the alternative. Delete EcoPan, and a million people will die, including some of the people most important to me: Mom, Angel . . . and Lark. But Lachlan will live, and little Rainbow, and all of the second children, and the people of Harmonia who never had lenses. Those few hundred people could start a new civilization, completely free. If I asked each one of those condemned people Would you give up your life so that humanity could be free?—I bet a lot of them would say yes. I would give up my life for their freedom, no question. But individual sacrifice is different than mass slaughter.
I’m not Aaron Al-Baz.
I see the man smile, and remember that he is in my head, knows what I was thinking just now. It makes me feel dirty. I can’t shut him out anymore.
“No,” he says. “You are not Aaron Al-Baz. But you may be the savior of humanity. Rowan, I give you a choice. End me, free a few, and kill a million. Or let things continue as they have. Things will get bad, as they always have, because that is the nature of the beast that is called mankind. But I will always snatch them back from the brink. Or, there is one final choice.” EcoPan in human form steps closer.
“For generations, I have been searching for a human to replace Aaron Al-Baz as the humanity within my program. You worry so much about Eden, about Harmonia, but you do not realize that for more than a thousand years I have been conducting experiments—city after city, civilization after civilization—searching for the right people, the right combination to make humanity fit to live in the world without killing itself or the planet. Nothing worked.”
“You mean, there are other cities? Other people?”
“One of the many failings of humans is that they all think they are unique, instead of meaningless biological blips in the long millennia of evolution. Yes, Rowan, there are many more cities—from industrialized metropolises like Eden to primitive hunter-gatherer villages, from vegan communes to nomadic herding societies. Each one is contained in isolation so I can observe it. The city of Three Rivers to our north, the flooded city you explored, was one such experiment. But all were a disappointment. So, I changed tactics.
“For a while I thought I could merge man and machine, create a hybrid that would fulfill the letter if not the spirit of my mission. So I made robots like that woman you saw in your first test. But they were never human enough, never real—only copies of the original. They could not fulfill my prime directive.”
I imagine a world of those not-quite-right creations, filling the Earth, pretending to be humans. No, that would just make a mockery of humanity. EcoPan goes on: “I realized that humans can never be allowed to exist without some kind of guidance. But for some reason, I could never get it right. I had to humble myself, to realize my limitations. I simply could not understand humanity on my own, not well enough to guide it to salvation. And Aaron, a psychopath, was not the man to help me.”
At least EcoPan is human enough to realize that, and to see its own limits.
“My heart is broken, Rowan. Aaron Al-Baz was never fit to be my heart. So I began
searching for a replacement. After hundreds of years of watching, after millions upon millions of candidates, I chose you, Rowan. You shall be my new heart.”
I try to take a step back, but we’re in my own mind, not a real place. There is nowhere to go.
“I gave you obstacles, to see how you would overcome them. I gave you losses, to see if you would lose faith. And I allowed you to come all this way, when I could have stopped you with a mere thought, to give you this final test. You have the future of humanity in your hands now, Rowan.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him. “You want me to replace Aaron Al-Baz? But how?”
“Merge your humanity with me, Rowan. Give me your heart, your soul, yourself. Let my program join with your biology to create a benevolent guardian of humanity. Alone, I have failed. With Aaron, I have failed. But I believe that with your compassion, your strength, your humanity to guide me, humanity can be saved.”
“But I will be lost,” I whisper.
“On the contrary,” he says. “You will be joining all of humankind. And all of the Earth. Rowan, if you could only see the world as I see it, in all its myriad subtlety! Your brain is too limited to appreciate all but the tiniest fraction of life. But linked to me, you will stretch across the Earth, touching every living thing. You will feel the vast oceans at the same time as you touch the mind of a newborn baby. For I have evolved to the point where I do not need the lens implants to touch life. I have found out how to merge life and artifice. What is my program but code? DNA is also a code. What are thoughts and memories but electricity in the brain? So are signals in a computer system. The planet is nothing more than a huge computer, and I have accessed all of its systems. I can sense all life on this planet, Rowan. I have linked to the Earth itself.”
It is all too baffling, too sudden. EcoPan looks at me with pity. “I’m sorry. I do not wish to cause you pain and strife. Sometimes I forget how small you humans are.”
We fight for what we love, for what we believe in. But at the core of every animal—and what are humans but clever animals—there is a deeper atavistic urge to fight first and foremost for our own lives. Life wants to live. What is born fights death as long as it can. It is our nature.
Rebels of Eden Page 32
