The Deplosion Saga

by Paul Anlee

  “At any rate, the Governing Council is trying to help with setting up our financial system, as are the many middle managers left over from Project Vesta. But governments are built on bureaucratic structure, and bureaucracies tend to be slow and cautious.”

  Rumi frowned. “So, these guys don’t want a whole bunch of little guys like me running around, frantically starting new businesses?”

  Jared burst out laughing at the image. “No, nothing like that. They’re okay with small businesses. They just don’t trust the ‘high finance’ types, so they’re moving slowly to set up the basic lending and investing vehicles. Despite its excesses, capitalism does work in many ways. I don’t think anyone is looking to abandon it.”

  “I wouldn’t want to see the colonies become communist. We saw a lot of that in South America. Every other election, some country would elect a communist or socialist. It would start out fine, but they always screwed things up real bad before long. Then they’d have to vote in some businessman-turned-politician to clean up the mess.”

  “I don’t think there’s any danger of communism taking over. But we are in a unique position in human history. Our banking and financial system, indeed, the entire basis for our money and our economies, was destroyed with the planet. So here we are in a new environment—”

  “—an artificial environment.”

  “Yes, here we are in an environment of our own making. Providing our biosphere continues to function as well as it has these past four years, there’s no limit to our growth.”

  “We’ve only got the three colony asteroids so far. Eight habitat tunnels.”

  “True, but our Cybrid friends are rapidly building more.”

  “I’m not sure I like that our future’s in their hands.”

  “They’ve been more than cooperative. One might go so far as to say they’ve been eager partners.”

  “What do we have to hold over them? What do they need from us?”

  “We’ve provided recharging stations along with repair services when needed, plus human contact and purpose. Remember, their psychological make-up is entirely human. They see themselves as tireless workers for our survival, all of our survival, for Cybrids and humans alike.”

  “Hmph.”

  “But you’re right, we need them more than they need us, and that is not a sustainable position. Economics is all about supply and demand. We humans will need to supply something they demand in return for the services they contribute, or we’ll be in trouble.”

  Rumi grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “We could just get rid of them and take their jobs for ourselves.”

  Jared rose to the bait. “What an appalling idea! Apart from the fact humans are notoriously poorly adapted to working in space without gravity, it would advocate for killing over a hundred-twenty million sentient beings. And for what? Just to create new job opportunities?”

  “For our own security.” The twinkle was still there.

  “Ah, yes, that. We spent the last few decades on Earth in a constant state of concern about our security. And what good did that do?”

  Rumi held up his hands, palms forward, fingers splayed. “Okay, okay, I get it, man! We need to find a way to live with the Cybrids. But we also need to give the human colonists some work. And by work, I mean their own businesses. And businesses need capital.”

  “And that means banks and loans; stocks and stock brokers. Yes, I know. I suspect the first order of business will be establishing a basis for currency.”

  “Why not just print some dollars? Or e-print some more e-dollars? That’s what we’re using now.”

  “But how many e-dollars should we create? What is the basis of our economy? Especially when we have no foreign countries with which to trade. Or should we treat each asteroid colony as a separate country?”

  “Uhh…I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”

  “Nor am I. Nonetheless, there are important questions that need to be dealt with before we can move into a truly free, capitalist, market-based system.”

  “So you’re saying I should just be patient? Man, I don’t know. I hate to see an opportunity like this go to waste. If I wait too long, someone else’ll take all the best spots.”

  Jared took a generous swallow from his cappuccino. “You needn’t worry. The market for your excellent brew will be here for a long time. Everything will be decided in good time, systems will be put in place, and we will find our way back to business as usual.”

  He downed the last few drops of coffee, and prayed what he’d said would come true.

  7

  “This is really well done,” Alum remarked to John Trillian for the third time in five minutes.

  Nestled on its own fluffy white cloud, their table was among the most exclusive seating in the beachside virtual restaurant. Perched at the highest point of Vacationland, it looked out on the longest, cleanest, most sparkling beach that had ever existed. Not that it truly existed except in the processing unit of the hosting computer.

  Alum beamed. Delightful. And equating battery charging with simulated eating? Inspired. He wondered if the Cybrid brain was set up to recall the biological experience of eating.

  He asked Trillian.

  The programmer’s eyes stared off into the distance as he consulted his Cybrid code database. “I believe they would experience this exactly as we have. The Cybrid sensorium is remarkably lifelike.”

  Glimpsing Alum’s frown, he quickly backtracked. “Of course, I wouldn’t care to speculate about how the Cybrids’ synthetic simulation of consciousness feels to them. I doubt the experience would be at all humanlike.”

  Alum relaxed. “Hmph. Even if they produce an accurate simulation of the experience, without a soul, it would be no more than a hollow, pointless exercise.”

  Better than anyone still alive, the leader of the YTG Church knew a silicene-based mind did not make the Cybrids any less human than biological beings. His own nervous tissue had long ago given way to the faster processing speeds and increased density of his compact semiconductor neural lattice. But it would hardly be politically expedient to admit that.

  The fiction that his own mind retained any biological connection was important to maintain, even with his right-hand man. Although Trillian’s lattice enhancements were extensive, he was still mostly biological and, therefore, would never fully understand.

  “Nonetheless, it may have value to the Cybrid population,” Trillian countered. “Mr. Strang seems to think that all this will be regarded positively by the machines. Perhaps it will help them view this Administration more favorably than they presently do.”

  “Jared Strang does not have the complete picture,” Alum replied. He suspected Strang was already spreading rumors about the spiritual leader’s “hostile bigotry” toward the Cybrids.

  It had only been a few weeks since he’d met with Strang and hinted at some sort of Cybrid entertainment systems to his Director of Human-Cybrid relations. Yet, here it was—Vacationland—already a completed project.

  He and Trillian had entered the simulation via inSense within hours of Strang sending him a message announcing its availability.

  Initially, Alum was pleased by the developmental efficiency of Strang’s people. Then Strang told him it was all the work of one man, someone outside his group, a systems engineer from Romania by the name of Darak Legsu.

  Impressive—Alum had thought. Perhaps a little too impressive. He couldn’t conceive of one person accomplishing all this work on his own in the short months since arriving on the asteroids, not without an IQ-enhancing lattice.

  And how exactly did this Darak Legsu come to be working on such a project, anyway? I think an interview with the man may be in order.

  Legsu’s Church membership was suspect, as well. He’d only formally joined two weeks before the Eater broke free of its containment. Alum assumed the man must have informally attended his local YTG Church or watched broadcasts for some time before becoming a card-carrying member. He was
either one of the luckiest men alive or, equally likely, the opportune timing of his membership warranted further investigation. Alum sent a message to his secretary to arrange a meeting with Mr. Legsu.

  “It’s critical that people, real people, see the difference between us and the machines,” Alum explained. “How else can we save that which is essentially and divinely human?

  “Now that Earth is gone, it would be easy to give everyone inSense and let them turn permanently inward. The siren call of virtual reality worlds to the human mind make it so easy to retreat from God’s creation. Almost irresistible. Vacationland is the perfect example of how attractive such a life could be.”

  “And that isn’t a problem for the Cybrids?” Trillian asked.

  “Humans were given free will by their Creator,” Alum said. “We need to learn to apply ourselves, to keep busy and productive.

  “Cybrids, on the other hand, were designed by us and fabricated to serve humans. Their construction won’t permit them to be idle more than needed. If they won’t voluntarily follow orders, we shall have to make it impossible for them to do otherwise.”

  Trillian considered this. “The Cybrids are certainly kept busy building new colony habitats for us, maintaining them, and so on.”

  “But it would be dangerous to leave everything to them while real people wallowed in their inSense experiences. No, wherever possible, humans have to perform their own work, find their own way forward. You do understand that, don’t you, John? Sloth is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason; it will lead us to extinction.”

  “Yes, sir, Trillian answered emphatically. “Although I don’t think anyone anticipated science and technology directing us toward laziness. Over the centuries, scientists and engineers pushed forward in a well-intentioned quest to make life easier for people, sure. But their goal was always to help free people from tedious labor so they’d be able to turn more of their energy toward development of knowledge and culture. And to worshiping God and praising His benevolence, of course.

  “One unanticipated result of technology and automation was wide-scale loss of purpose and an acceptance of powerlessness in a world that a dwindling number of individuals had any ability to understand. Technology became an unintentional force for evil, rather than something to be used for Holy purpose.”

  Alum stared at Trillian, mouth agape. Then he laughed. “You never fail to surprise me, John. I didn’t realize you’d studied the sociology of science and technology so intently.”

  “I had some free time in prison, before Reverend LaMontagne rescued me and gave new purpose to my life. The failure of society to properly provide opportunities for people of skill and ambition, like me, was an interesting, though perhaps self-indulgent, topic.”

  “Indeed,” Alum replied. “In the absence of the proper outlet for expression, people turn to their entertainments instead. Rome proved this; the British Empire proved this; and both the United States of America and the European Union proved this. Success stopped being measured in terms of a life well lived, a sense of accomplishment, and contribution to community. Accumulation of material goods and money became a poor substitute for the gap everyone felt in their lives. Before Earth was threatened by the Eater, that gap was increasingly filled with direct stimulation through alcohol, drugs, or inSense.”

  “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.”

  8

  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 Vacation
land 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?