by Paul Anlee
“We can’t allow that to happen here,” Trillian said. “God has given mankind a second chance, an opportunity to begin again and to make better choices this time. I’m glad God called on you to guide us in these early days.” He surprised himself with how sincerely he meant that.
Coming from his old self, such a statement would have been accompanied by a sardonic grin. But the comment was sincere. Alum had saved his followers from the Eater, as LaMontagne had saved Trillian himself from a life without purpose. The two had shown him the way of true Faith and Trillian would be forever grateful to both.
“Thank you, John. That means a lot to me.” Alum stood and walked to the edge of the platform on which their table rested. He leaned against the rails and gazed down on the sparkling water, the glistening sand, and the lush tropical forest inland.
Trillian stood and joined him. “You know, maybe we can use this place to our advantage.”
Without turning, Alum asked, “Apart from the obvious goodwill among the Cybrids, how do you mean?”
“They’ll be happily connected for some time while recharging. They’ll be a bit more open to new experiences during that time.”
“Open to allowing concepta viruses in, you mean?”
“Exactly. The majority of Cybrids weren’t exposed to the loyalty virus from your last sermon on Earth. But I have a feeling most of them will want to visit Vacationland at some point. And their security will be lulled into complacency by this place. We can embed the virus in the simulation code.”
“Were you ever in advertising, John?”
“Hah! No, even hackers have some ethical boundaries.”
“Perhaps, we should recruit an expert to assist you.”
“I’m always eager to learn from those with greater experience.”
“Just another of the many things I value in you. But be careful with the underlying code for this place until I’ve spoken with Mr. Legsu. Its appearance at this time is a little too convenient; we need to make sure it’s not more than it appears.”
“It is a brilliant piece of work. Maybe too brilliant, you’re thinking?”
Alum regarded Trillian directly. “We’ll see.”
12
When Greg/Darak received the invitation to visit Alum at the Vesta Administration offices, he almost fled immediately.
What could Alum possibly want with me? How did I even come to the leader’s attention? Did I go through facial reconstruction surgery for nothing? Has he seen through my cover story?
The message had been delivered directly into his hand by an Administration security officer rather than through email. Compliance was not optional.
Alum would like to speak with you at his offices—read the note. No introductory salutations, no explanation, no hint of how Alum came to be aware of Darak’s existence was given, just one simple line and directions to the Administration central offices on Vesta.
The message hadn’t arrived in an envelope. Greg read it standing on his doorstep as the officer stared at him. No doubt, the man had already read it. He watched with raised eyebrows as Greg read the note. Neither spoke a word.
Is he examining me for a reaction, for some indication of whether I regard the message with respect or suspicion? Greg’s lips quivered and his fingers trembled microscopically before he could use his lattice to clamp down on his immediate reaction.
“Wow! It’s not every day one receives a message from our Leader,” he said to cover his nervousness. He smiled blankly at the policeman and thanked him for delivering the note.
The officer squinted at Greg and departed without a word, leaving the scientist standing in the open doorway.
Greg watched the officer’s fingers thrumming against a holstered gun as he waited for the elevator.
When the elevator doors closed, Greg stared at the illuminated numbers as they counted down. Only once the lights indicated the elevator had reached the ground floor and stayed there, did the scientist shut the door and switch his emotions back on.
Greg didn’t trust sheer intellect to guide him this time; he wanted to feel his way to a solution as much as think it. His heart pounded as he walked on wobbly legs to the nearest chair. He collapsed into it, and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and calmed himself the natural way, without the aid of his lattice.
Why would Alum want to speak with me? He went over his actions since arriving in Pallas. He was no longer recognizable as Greg Mahajani. Besides, the summons had been for Darak Legsu, his new identity. He had no infractions he could remember. There was nothing that stood out in his work record, either good or bad.
He had submitted his Vacationland project to Jared Strang’s office, but that was for the Cybrids. If Alum had even heard about it at all, it would be of no importance. Vacationland was something he’d dreamed up to maintain consistency with his resume. It seemed like an obvious project for a Systems Engineer interested in inSense entertainment to pursue.
Almost half the population was made up of active Cybrids. There were even more stored minds copied into Cybrid CPPU processors, waiting for their bodies to be constructed. Every single active Cybrid was forced into twenty-four hour days of drudging service to humanity. Slaves, essentially. Potentially unhappy and rebellious slaves.
Why not improve morale and give them a break? And, what better—and completely harmless—way was there, than to drop them into a stimulating and wildly creative simulation like Vacationland?
The more he thought about it, the Vacationland project had to have been what drew Alum’s attention, although he couldn’t imagine why. The man didn’t even like Cybrids, judging by his most recent decrees. He didn’t think they were people. But as far as Greg knew, providing a virtual world for Cybrid minds to play in didn’t break any laws, not by any interpretation.
There was one other possibility. Had Alum seen old security videos, something that alerted him to Greg’s presence in the asteroids? Greg had scoured the Pallas Security recordings in the months before his surgery, carefully editing out his old face, wherever he found it, and splicing in his new one. He’d been scrupulous in his efforts; he was certain he’d missed nothing.
On the other hand, did it matter why Alum wanted to see him?
He was being summoned to enter the lion’s den. Could he pull off an interview with Alum without revealing his true identity? Or should he flee as fast and as far as possible? How long could I survive in the asteroid colonies as a fugitive before Alum caught up with me?
Either option could very well lead to prison or death.
If I attend and things get out of hand, I could shift away—he thought. Of course, doing that would alert Alum to his so far secret mastery over the shifting technology.
How would that help, except to buy a few days or weeks? If Alum found out that I could shift without the aid of supporting machinery, he’d never stop until he’d hunted me down.
It was impossible to make a rational decision with so little information. I guess I better go. After all, if Alum already knew my real identity, he wouldn’t have sent a note to invite me to a meeting. Would he?
* * *
Greg/Darak sat in the reception area outside Alum’s office. The last time he’d sat waiting for a leader of a sovereign nation was with Kathy, some twenty years ago.
The threat had been clearer then. They’d had all the facts they needed, the beginnings of a sound plan to deal with the problems presented by the Eater, and years ahead of them before things got to a critical stage.
Now, he was alone and facing...he didn’t know what.
He’d known Alum since the Head of the YTG Church was a young boy. And he’d known the boy’s spiritual father, the Reverend LaMontagne, much better than the son. Alum had always been a strange individual, aloof, communicative in unexpected bursts of curious intellect or lengthy philosophical monologues and not much else. It was easy to forget he was in a room until he delivered some odd insight to the conversation.
Greg chuckled to himself. Maybe we’re not so different, after all. Everyone had considered him and Kathy strange as well. Darian, too, for that matter. The geekiest of the geeks, and that was saying a lot.
But Alum was odder than any of them. As a boy, he’d lived much of his life as if he were dreaming, never quite fully there.
Kathy thought the boy’s lattice might have been slaved to the Reverend’s, but she didn’t try to penetrate LaMontagne’s security to prove it. She and Greg had been too busy trying to save humanity to worry about the perversities of yet another preacher, especially one so close to dying.
There’d been no doubt Alum was a genius. His political commentary had always been insightful. Even as a teenager, his analyses demonstrated wisdom beyond his years. There’d been questions around his earliest public activities; he would have been too young to have carried out some of the actions attributed to him or claimed in his name.
It was clear that Reverend LaMontagne had initiated the secretive personality that would become ‘Alum.’ The boy had simply been too young to have accomplished all of the things claimed in his name.
Huh. In retrospect, the joining of the names “Alan” and “LaMontagne”, or “Al” and “LaM” into “Alam” or “Alum” seems obvious. Coincidence? I think not.
It was rumoured the Reverend himself was responsible for the death of Virgil Hartland at the G26 meeting so many years ago, and that he’d detonated the nuclear missiles over their launch sites rather than over their purported targets. Who knew what other acts, heinous or heroic, had been committed in the name of Alum, and by whom?
In the long run, those acts didn’t matter so much; they were overshadowed by the destruction of the Earth, Alum’s opportunistic replacement of the intended colonists with his own people, and his usurping of authority in the asteroids.
Greg had nothing but circumstantial evidence, but he suspected that Alum hadn’t just taken advantage of the ensuing chaos when the Eater escaped its confinement, but had actually precipitated those cataclysmic events resulting in Earth’s premature demise.
If that was true, Alum was responsible for Kathy’s death.
Greg detested the man more than he feared him. He yearned for revenge. But Alum was in charge here and, as much as Greg hated to admit it, he might be humanity’s best hope for survival in the asteroid colonies.
As far as Greg could tell, almost everyone on the asteroids believed in Alum. They adored him. No matter how much Greg wanted justice, removing Alum from power or killing him would not bring Kathy back, and the resulting chaos might lead to millions more deaths. Hadn’t enough people died already?
Greg hadn’t noticed his hands forming tight fists until they began to ache. He opened his fists and tried to calm down. Only when Alum became superfluous to the colony’s survival would Greg have his revenge. Until then, he needed to appear cooperative, like any other adoring fan, and he needed to keep his real identity hidden.
“Mr. Legsu?” The receptionist’s voice broke Greg’s reflection.
“Alum will see you now.” She gestured toward the open door to the inner sanctum.
Greg’s knee joints cracked as he stood up. He inhaled deeply. He’d been sitting tensed up for too long. He shook his legs and stretched his arms.
“I’ve never met our Leader in person,” he explained to the young woman. “I guess I’m a little nervous.” He laughed and she smiled indulgently.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “He doesn’t bite.” She smiled and gestured for him to go through the open door.
He straightened his clothes and stepped into the official offices of the Head Administrator.
Alum looked up from a report he’d been reading and rose to greet Greg.
“Ah, Mr. Legsu. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Greg had met many world leaders during his time as Chief Scientist of the Vesta project, yet he’d never felt so uncertain of himself as today.
He recognized signs of the strange boy, and the stranger teenager, in the confident face of the surprisingly young man in front of him. He hoped Alum didn’t recognize anything of Greg Mahajani in the altered face and mannerisms he’d chosen for Darak Legsu.
Greg/Darak crossed the room and shook Alum’s outstretched hand. At the last moment he realized Alum might recognize something as insignificant as the way Greg Mahajani shook hands. He altered the characteristic tightening of muscles in his hand before he clasped the other man’s.
Alum didn’t appear to notice anything familiar in the handshake. He invited Greg/Darak to sit and took a seat behind his desk.
Greg’s chair was comfortable enough, but the stiff cushions matched the Spartan furnishings of the rest of the office. Even this place, where the Head Administrator worked, contained few luxuries.
The floor was tile, the same material as the wall covering, formed from crushed asteroid rock and resin. A small, decorative carpet covered the bare floor in front of the serving table that occupied a space along one wall. The desk was laminated fiber composite, among the earliest cellulosic construction materials produced in the colonies. A single, modest-sized painting, likely a favorite brought from Earth by the previous Administrator, decorated one wall. The other three were bare.
“No doubt, you’re wondering why I asked you here,” Alum began.
Greg elected to say nothing, feigning the face of a doe-eyed follower of the Church.
Alum kept him waiting uncomfortably long, letting the seconds tick away before breaking into a laugh.
“Don’t worry, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he said. “In fact, your most recent work came at a most opportune time.”
“W...which work is that?” Greg asked timidly. The tremor in his voice was only half faked.
“Your Vacationland simulation. It was brilliant. How long have you been working on it?”
Greg sensed the trap. If he said it was since coming to the asteroids, it would alert Alum to his hidden computational powers. But if he said he’d started it on Earth, it would make Alum wonder how an Earth-dweller could anticipate one day working with Cybrids.
Fortunately, Greg had anticipated the line of questioning. “It started out as code for a standard inSense entertainment I was toying with on Earth.”
“So, you’ve been working on it for a while?”
“Years. But people here aren’t into that kind of thing and I didn’t want to throw the code away. After I arrived, I started wondering about adapting it for Cybrids. They may not be people, exactly, but they must be interested in doing something besides working all the time.”
“How did you know it would work for them?”
“I didn’t, really. I assumed it would. I mean, from what I read, their processing concepta are modeled on the human mind. So it makes sense that they would’ve included some of our perceptual input, as well.”
He let the last sentence hang in the air. He hoped he hadn’t played it up too much. It was plausible that an engineer with Darak’s background might be enthusiastic about Cybrid cognition but he didn’t want to overdo the performance.
Alum cleared his throat. “Normally I wouldn’t approve of this particular interest. I do hope you’ll remember not to let your enthusiasm run away with you in the future. Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, sir…uhh…Reverend,” Greg replied uncertainly.
Alum smiled graciously. “You may call me Alum. Everyone does.”
Greg made himself squirm uncomfortably and return the smile. “Thank you. Alum. I was always into that kind of thing back home, I mean, on Earth.”
“Well, as it turns out, it was useful this time.”
“Useful?”
“Yes. I’m sure you’ve heard we are curtailing the presence of Cybrids in the habitats. They are to be confined to service corridors and outer space.”
“I remember you said that last week during your Sunday broadcast.”
“I’m pleased you watched. I am compassionate toward al
l, even those who are not God’s creatures.”
“We can only follow Yeshua’s example.” Greg thought it wise for Darak to say something confirming his alignment with the YTG Church’s beliefs. It seemed like something a person like Darak would do.
Alum’s face formed brief, microscopic frown lines. “We must, all of us, model our lives after those of our Lord to the best of our abilities. Vacationland might be useful. It might help us with the Cybrid Problem.”
Greg could hear the capitalization. He wasn’t aware there was a “Cybrid Problem,” at least not with the previous Administration.
“I’m glad you find Vacationland useful,” he replied. “But I didn’t know we had a problem with the Cybrids. I thought they served Yeshua’s plans for our people.”
“Generally, they have done as they have been directed. However, it was a mistake to provide human-like personas to them. Their work could be done equally efficiently using simple conceptas. They are an abomination.”
“Yet a necessary one.” Greg regretted the words the second they left his lips.
Alum peered at him. Greg imagined waves of suspicion beating against his already-shaky composure. “I mean, their capabilities are required for making new habitats,” he hastened to add. “Not that they have to think they’re people.”
Alum relaxed. He smiled, as if to ensure Greg his apology was accepted. “Nevertheless, they do think they’re people. They’re mistaken, of course, but that’s what we have to work with.”
“And you think Vacationland might help?” Greg prodded, trying to move the conversation back to safer ground.
“Yes. We particularly like how you paralleled ordinary daily human activities, with equivalent Cybrid activities, such as eating while the Cybrids are recharging. We think the environment may help calm any residual resentment the Cybrids have toward our segregation order. If we give them an environment in which they can pretend to be human, they won’t be so envious about not being able to mingle with real humans.”
