Metaplanetary (A Novel of Interplanetary Civil War)

by Tony Daniel

  “I hate my name,” Claude said.

  “It’s a fine name.”

  “I hate it.”

  “Very well, then. You hate it.”

  “I want to use another one. To sign my work. For everything. I would like it to be . . . a name that means something to me. A name that means something else to me than ‘Claude Schlencker’ does.”

  Despacio tugged his beard. Claude felt he must have been mistaken, but he could have sworn the old composer’s eyes were . . . misty. But that could not be. He wasn’t real, and he couldn’t cry.

  “When they first . . . programmed me . . . long before they fed in the mentalities and ran me through evolution, they used to have a name for me. It is what I’ve always thought of as my first name, because it was, you see,first . I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  “It was an acronym, fromEnglish words. Not really a proper name at all.”

  “What was it?”

  “Artificial Musical Expression System. With the accent on ‘Expression.’ “ Despacio sat down in the chair across from Claude. “It’s really rather horrible. That’s why I never use it.”

  “Amés,” Claude said.

  “Amés.”

  “May I use it?”

  “You may,” replied Despacio. “You may, indeed. I have no further use for it, I can assure you.”

  “Amés,” said the former Claude Schlencker. “From now on, that will be me.”

  Thirty

  from

  Quatermain’s Guide

  The Advantages of the Strong Force

  A Guide to and History of the Met

  by Leo Y. Sherman

  Government

  The Met is a democracy. It is based on an interlocking amalgamation of directorates each with its own function or geographic provenance. Met citizens “vote with their channel selectors,” with each citizen guaranteed membership in at least three directorates, and each having the ability to change allegiances at any time. Directorate members usually then elect a board, who appoint the director general and various higher-ups. Most positions under the subdirectorate level are based on merit, as judged by these appointed officers. Sometimes membership in a directorate can swing widely, especially during merci events prominently featuring a particular directorate or associated group, whether in a positive or negative light. Within minutes, relative voter strength can double or triple, as Met citizens exercise their “right to change channels.”

  This form of modified popular democracy has its roots in the last century and is a direct result of the famous “Conjubilation of 2993.” During that e-year, when Earth and Mars were in planetary opposition in their orbits, a major span was constructed connecting the two sides of the Diaphany bend not far from the center. Promoters trumpeted the Conjubilation as a major cultural event on the merci, but it soon grew far beyond their expectations and then beyond their control. Nearly six million people made the trip to the span, and millions more attended in the virtuality. Many important cultural and scientific movements had their origins in the event, but most importantly for us here, a series of demonstrations broke out against the old Federal Republic. These in turn had their beginnings in the music and art festival called the Merge.

  At the Merge, political opinions transformed daily, but the consensus seemed to be that something had to change in the way the government of the time did things. Matters were not helped for the old Republic when the then president of the Republic, Quim Fukuyama, put in a personal appearance and, after a rather mediocre speech, told everyone to “please go home.” As a result of the “Please Go Home” speech, the Republic was sent packing in the next election, and activists from the Merge elected. They quickly put into place the directorate-based government (the directorates were at first called havens) that we have today in the Met.

  The most important political figure to arise out of the Merge was a LAP going by the singular name of Amés. Amés had come into the merge as a featured musician (he was a composer). It was Amés who first saw the need for a directorate interlock and, after campaigning vigorously (some have claimed ruthlessly) for such an entity, he was appointed its director. Since that time, Director Amés has been reappointed to the post.

  How did a musical composer transform himself into the politician who would unite the crumbling Met government?

  Director Amés has said that he always had political ambitions.

  “My music is about movement and action—getting things done. That’s one of the reasons I have always insisted on conducting my own compositions. It’s the music of change and growth, and not every conductor can bring that kind of commitment to its performance,” he said in a famous merci interview at the Merge of ’93. “What I do as a composer and conductor is to order the world. It’s chaos out there—and chaos is deadly. My music is about order and strength. I’m not talking about order like the old fogies of the Republic want—keeping things running more or less like they always have. I’m talking about order that leads to action—to remaking the world around us into whatwe want, and not what the chaos forces on us. That’s what I do as a musician—and that’s what the Met sorely needs from its leaders.”

  The original system of directorates that arose after the old Republic government fell was, itself, a shaky affair. Direct democracy had never been tried before on such a large scale. Day after day directorates rose enormously in popularity and influence, only to find themselves destroyed in the merci polls the moment they attempted anything the slightest bit unpopular. And, in direct democracy, to fall in the polls is to be voted out of office.

  What was needed was someone who could handle both the political coordination of the directorates and sway popular opinion and keep it in line long enough for the government to do its job. What was needed was someone who knew the ins and outs of popular entertainment on the merci, but who could also shoulder the task of real governing. On the merci political shows, and in the think tanks and news bullpens, the star of the Merge of ’93 was soon seen everywhere. Everyone who was anyone on the political pundit circuit had to have Amés appear on his or her show or play in his or her game milieu.

  Amés might have gone down in history as any other forgotten talk-show guest, had it not been for the untimely death of the governor of Mercury that occurred precisely at the height of Amés’s popularity on the merci. Within one new-cycle day, the young composer went from a politically hot newcomer to the head of the richest planet in the solar system. Using this power base and his own popularity in the moment, Amés quickly began consolidating the directorates under his governance. At first, the directorates were loath to give up their influence, as fleeting as that influence could be, but the merci polls were overwhelming in Amés’s favor, and a series of unlucky accidents befell those directors who opposed him. It was almost as if the popular will had swept them from life as well as from office.

  “Music was never something soothing for me, but a challenge to be met. I had a teacher who saw to that. He never let me use music as some kind of escape from responsibility. There are all these notes. They can be put to work in beautiful ways, if only you know how to arrange them in the most useful way,” Amés said shortly after his ascent to Director of the Interlocking Directorates of the Met. “The directorates work in the same way. Separately, they are a bunch of discordant notes. But together—together, we can make the most beautiful music the human race has ever heard.”

  Thirty-one

  At first, Aubry Graytor didn’t notice the little man. He was barely over five-foot-two and was dressed nondescriptly. Aubry was having enough trouble making her way in the crush of the customs check to pay much attention to any of the adults around her. But the man was insistently tugging on the sleeve of her father’s shirt. Her father pulled away, but then the man said something into his ear, and Kelly directed Aubry and Sint to a side passage with an alcove where there were some advertisements for a spa on Venus. They started to speak, but her father told them to s
hut up. He turned his attention to the little man.

  “All right,” Kelly said. “How is she in danger?”

  Her father didn’t mention who “she” was, but Aubry had a notion it was her mother. Danis was now being processed through the free-convert portion of the customs check.

  “There have been hostilities,” the little man said. His voice was surprisingly gentle and soft. “There’s no formal declaration of war yet, but all free converts are being detained. They’re claiming that they contain technology that’s proprietary to the Met.”

  “We were worried about a clause in a contract that might have delayed her,” her father said.

  “They’re using anything and everything to get a legal hold on free converts,” said the man. “If there is the slightest doubt, they aren’t going to let her go.”

  “Oh God,” Kelly said. Then he looked hard at the man, the way he sometimes looked at Aubry when he knew she was only telling him part of the truth about something. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

  “My name is Sherman,” said the little man. “Leo Sherman. That’s not important. I work for the Friends of Tod, a group dedicated to free-convert rights—”

  “We’ve never had any trouble in that regard,” said her father, “except for a comment here and there.”

  “You’re from Mercury,” Leo Sherman said. “The farther out you get, the less freedom for free converts. There’s some slave labor on Mars. Look, we have to work fast. I’ve got a legal convert jamming the system right now, arguing each and every case. Your wife is probably in queue for a hearing.”

  “You mean these trials are going on in the virtuality?”

  “Yes. But our legal sentient isn’t doing much good. We haven’t won a single case yet. We have slowed the process down enough so that we can seek out . . . alternatives.”

  “Alternatives? To what?”

  “To your wife being detained and put to work crunching numbers in Noctis Labyrinthus. You have heard of Silicon Valley, haven’t you? That’s what the free converts who get sent there call it. It’s like an aspect being sent to the salt mines.”

  “How can I possibly trust you?” her father said.

  The little man cracked a smile. “That’s what my father said after I wrecked my first personal transport.” Aubry felt that she might like the man, but a voice inside her told her to be wary. After all, he might beanyone .

  “I have a little device with me, encoded into my handshake, actually. It’s legal, but barely.”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “My organization has quite a few merci programmers and grist specialists as members. I can hook you up with your wife, on a merci sideband. Not full virtual, but it should be enough. Would you like to talk to her?”

  “This could be a trick,” said Kelly. “It feels like a trick.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me,” Leo Sherman said. “At least so far as to shake my hand.”

  Her father frowned, then seemed to make up his mind. He looked down at Aubry. “If anything weird happens,” he said, “grab your brother and run like hell.”

  And then he quickly shook hands with Leo Sherman.

  Thirty-two

  For Aubry, the handshake lasted only a few seconds, hardly longer than a regular handshake might. For Kelly, however, it seemed much longer. He found himself in an incredible press of bodies. That is, he assumed they were bodies, because he couldn’t see anything. Only touch, smell, and sound were coming through this link. And it was an odd sensation, the virtual equivalent to the smell of nervous sweat. He felt a touch on his hand, then fingers tracing the lines of his face.

  “Oh, Kelly,” said Danis. “This is horrible. I don’t think they’re going to let me out.”

  “Danis, I can’t see a thing. Is it really you?”

  She didn’t answer with words, but with a kiss. Itwas really Danis.

  “They were waiting with the Section C wording on that quantum futures contract. Kelly, it was as if they’d combed through my entire life, looking for something to hold against me.”

  “We have to figure out a way to get you out of this,” Kelly said. He wanted to sound confident, but his voice cracked, and betrayed him.

  “I’ve got a Friends of Tod lawyer,” said Danis. She slipped her hand into his, and Kelly could feel the pressure of her warm, dry skin. “He seems very good. But I don’t think it will help. He has told me about another option, though, if the hearing doesn’t go well.”

  “What is it?”

  “The society he works for. They have a . . . sister group. A group that isn’t legal. They . . . smuggle out free converts. Like me. They get them out in something like a pocketbook.”

  “If they’re going to break the law, then why can’t they just use the merci? They could instantly broadcast you to Pluto—or anywhere.”

  “The Department of Immunity has taken total control of the merci. I suggested that to my lawyer. Damn the iteration laws and make a copy of me on Pluto or wherever. But Department of Immunity security is preventing that sort of thing. They have new containment algorithms in place. I’ve felt them. They’re mean. They are quarantining free converts, Kelly.”

  “All right then,” said Kelly. “What about this pocketbook smuggling arrangement?” He felt steadier with something concrete to discuss. They are trying to take away my wife! His mind still screamed. They are taking away Danis.

  “There’s no guarantee,” Danis said. “And the ship they’re loaded on makes a roundabout trip. It could be months before I get out of cold storage.” Danis’s grip on his hand tightened. “Kelly, I don’t think I can leave you and the children like that. I don’t think I can do it.”

  Kelly pulled her toward him. He heard a loud voice call out: “Agila 19, serial number P0874R30-Vl9, report for Hearing on Conditions immediately.”

  “That’s the convert ahead of me in line,” said Danis. “I’m next, Kelly.”

  He held Danis even tighter. “Get yourself smuggled, Danis,” he said. “Do it. I will find you. No matter where you are, I will find you. And I swear to you that I won’t letanything happen to the kids.”

  “My God, Kelly, is this really happening? It can’t be happening. They’re going to take me away from my children, Kelly.”

  “We will be waiting for you, my love. Always remember that.” I can’t lose her, Kelly thought. I can’t lose my wife.

  “I can’t even see you,” Danis said.

  “Nor I you,”

  “You’re just a voice in my mind. And a touch.”

  Kelly kissed her again. They kissed for a long time, holding one another in the dark. Then it was time for Danis’s hearing, and she reluctantly pulled away from him.

  “Tell the children I love them,” Danis said.

  They were her last words to him there. Kelly was pulled backwards, as by a physical force. He felt as if he were falling down a long shaft. There was the sensation of rushing wind, but nothing else. And then the fall stopped, and he was standing in the alcove at Leroy Port, shaking hands with the stranger, his children looking on with big, frightened eyes.

  He withdrew his hand from Leo Sherman’s. “What about the children?” he asked the little man. “They’re half– free converts, you know.”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to alarm you even more,” said Sherman. “But it is going to be a major problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your son will be fine with you,” said the man. “He’s young enough to fit under a nonseparation clause our lawyers have cooked up, as long as you allow them to attach certain security restraints to his convert portion. The Friends have people in the transport ships who can remove those programs, no harm done. The problem, Mr. Graytor, is your daughter. She might be let through, but she’s extremely precocious. I’m afraid that this fact has gotten into her records. They aren’t going to want to let Aubry go, period. She has the makings of a LAP.”

  “They’re not keeping my
child!” said Kelly loudly. The little man motioned for him to quiet down. “They’re not taking my daughter,” he said in a lower tone.

  “No,” said the man. “We have to prevent that at all costs.”

  Thirty-three

  Aubry felt as if the ground had been pulled from under her, and she was back in free fall. First her mother was being detained, and now she was to be separated from her father, kept in the Met. They aren’t going to get any use out of me, Aubry told herself. I’ll kill myself before I’ll work for the Department of Immunity. But the promise sounded hollow, even in the flush of the moment. They could probably do whatever they wanted with her, and she would have precious little to say about it. She was only eleven.

  “I’m eleven,” she said.

  “What?” said Leo Sherman.

  “I’m not a baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. He gave her a quick squeeze. “Yes, tell us both. Do you have any idea how we can get out of this mess?”

  Leo Sherman grinned. He seemed to have a normal-sized smile for his too-small head, and his teeth seemed to take up half his face. Then he was all seriousness once again.

  “It’s going to be difficult, but there is a way,” said Leo Sherman. “There’s another port that is less closely guarded. We think we can get Aubry out there.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Kelly. “As fast as we can.”

  Leo Sherman shook his head. “You don’t understand, Mr. Graytor. We only have so much space. We’ve already sent three ships out, and we still have a lot of half converts waiting. Hundreds now. It could become thousands. After the war really starts, there won’t be any more ships getting out. Not so easily.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Aubry will have to go with me. You and your son can go the normal way, and so you must. I’ll take her to the other ship.”

  “You think I’m going to trust my daughter to a stranger?” said Kelly. “That would be worse than getting stranded here.”