by Migration
“No, it’s nothing like that. I need to recruit an accomplice. I think you’re the right kind of person.”
Eena studied him, puzzled but curious. “Accomplice? What for?”
Ronti glanced behind him, then steered her back into the pantry doorway and moved closer. “It’s for our act tonight. We just want to add a harmless little joke into the routine….”
FOUR
High above the surface of Earth, Masumichi Shikoba headed back toward the two-level suite, now in the final stages of being fitted out, that would be his personal quarters in the three-miles-long, six-miles-around orbiting Aurora. His first premonition that something was amiss came when he emerged from an elevator into the gallery running through the complex of residential units and saw the scattering of twigs and leaves forming a trail along a side corridor to end at his front door. He turned his face toward the lens in the panel alongside, opened the door with a voiced command, entered warily… and stopped, stunned.
To facilitate free expression and cater to individual preferences, the Aurora’s design made extensive use of modular constructions that could be configured into whatever style of space the occupants desired. Masumichi had specified a simple layout of sleeping and living space above and a personal working area for his robotics research below, with a spiral stairway connecting the two. Instead, a circular opening eight feet or so across had appeared in the ceiling, making way for the trunk and branches of what, from the leaves that he could see above, appeared to be a young sycamore tree. Its base was encased in some kind of temporary structure covered by plastic sheeting. The two robots that he was developing as general-purpose prototypes and assigning various construction tasks as test projects regarded him dutifully. They had universally pivoting heads with wide-angle and narrow-focus lenses for all-around viewing, and bulky torsos sprouting slender, bi-tubular limbs with bulbous joints, giving them somewhat the appearance of metallic stick men with mantis heads. Masumichi had left them with a decorating job, evidenced by their generous splattering of paint.
“What’s this?” he inquired, gesturing at the tree.
“That’s the tree,” GPP-1/B informed him.
“What tree?”
“You told us to paint a tree in the lower level. There wasn’t a tree there, so we got one from the Bot and Ag Conservatory. What color do you want it?” The robot seemed to register the sinking feeling that Masumichi was trying not to show. “Er, we weren’t sure about going through to upstairs. It didn’t seem right to cut it and just use half…. We could get a shorter one if you like.”
“Bot and Ag people very cooperative,” GPP-1/A put in. “Like having plant things grow anywhere possible.”
Masumichi could see his mistake. “I meant a picture of one – a mural, after you’d done the walls,” he said resignedly.
“Oh.”
1/B and 1/A looked at each other with what could have passed as mutual recrimination, but Masumichi dismissed the impression as subjective. Whatever electronic exchanges might have flowed between them were lost on him. While he was still grappling in befuddlement with how best to handle things, voices sounded in the open doorway behind.
“Ah yes, he’s back.”
“Masumichi, what’s all the mess on the floor out here? Are you planting a forest?”
It was Helmut Goben, whose work lay in mapping biological molecular machinery, and his partner, Sonja Taag, a teacher. With them was a slim, fair-haired girl in her twenties that Masumichi didn’t know. Before he could stop them or say anything, they had come on in.
“We stopped by earlier, but you were out,” Helmut went on. “We’re looking for some ideas on…” His voice trailed off as they stopped, staring in astonishment. Masumichi, too embarrassed to speak, showed his teeth in a parody of a smile. The two robot geniuses stood motionless.
Sonja walked slowly around the base of the tree, turned to assess the proportions of the space that it was standing in, then looked up at the terrace that the upper floor had become, encircling the upper parts. Helmut moved to the bottom of the spiral stairs to contemplate the effect from there.
“It’s brilliant!” Sonja breathed wonderingly. “The harmonizing of life’s natural rhythms with personal growth and spiritual space. Oh, Helmut, we must do something like this!”
“You, ah… like it?” Masumichi checked uncertainly.
“I take it that the living area will be above, embracing the leafage from all sides as an integral part of the mood,” Helmut observed. “While the trunk down here in the lab area symbolizes the constant thrust and direction of our work toward higher things and a richer understanding of life. Truly inspired, Masumichi. However did you think of it?”
“Ah, hum, as you say, just an inspiration, I guess,” was all that Masumichi could muster by way of return just at that instant. To one side, GPP-1/B shuffled its feet in a way that could have meant anything.
“And the way it brings together the two extremes of…” Helmut checked himself and glanced at the fair-haired girl, who had followed them in. “But we’re forgetting our manners. Masumichi, we’d like you to meet Fave, who only came up in the last few days. She’s from the Breeton islands.” They were located to the west of the main northern land mass, which still went by its old-word name of “Asia.” The western fringe was a region where significant amounts of old-world learning and technological abilities were beginning to reappear.
“Our privilege to have you with us,” Masumichi said, giving the normal form of welcome to a newcomer aboard.
“Mine entirely,” Fave responded.
“So, will Fave be working with you?” Masumichi asked Helmut.
“Oh, no. We just met her by chance at the game yesterday.”
Masumichi interrogated Fave with his eyes for a moment. “Something medical,” he pronounced. “Herbs and plant remedies, or pharmaceuticals.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Nothing like that. Singing and dance.”
Well, that was a good thing, too, Masumichi thought to himself. He had been involved with the Aurora program since the early days and had always favored a population made up from as wide a variety of knowledge, talents, and points of view as possible. He thought that many of the scheme’s architects tended to focus too narrowly on recruiting individuals from backgrounds offering immediate material benefit to the enterprise, which he feared would result in a society that was overly pragmatic and utilitarian, losing much of the richness of what it meant to be human. Creative originality couldn’t be commanded by planning committees. Fortunately, those who shared this view had prevailed.
“So, you are the one who works with robots,” Fave went on. “Helmut tells me you designed the lattice-crawlers and manipulator pods that assembled the ship.”
“Well, I was one of the people involved,” Masumichi agreed.
“And those are yours, too?” Fave indicated the two GPPs looking on silently.
“In the experimental stage at present,” Masumichi told her. “The aim is general-purpose helpers that can be directed via natural language. They’re fitting out and decorating the suite, as you can no doubt tell.”
“How about ones that can dance?” Fave suggested.
“Now, there’s a thought,” Masumichi said. “But the dynamics involved are a lot more complicated than you probably think.”
“But even young children can do it.”
Masumichi smiled. “Many of the most complex things in life give an illusion of being simple because they are done unconsciously. But it’s precisely because we do them unconsciously that makes it so difficult to understand how we do them. Decoding natural language is another example.”
“If you let him get started on this, we’ll be here all day,” Helmut warned Fave.
“But I’m interested,” Fave said.
“We have years ahead of us,” Sonja reminded her.
A tone sounded from Masumichi’s phone. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and answered. The caller was Iver, an operator in a
n observation section in the Surface Operations branch of the Aurora’s Command Directorate, which was where Masumichi had just returned from. Surface Operations was responsible for communications and liaison with the ground bases, and maintained a network of control rooms and facilities through the ship.
“The identification that you were looking for just came in,” Iver informed Masumichi. “Location confirmed and situation appears stable. Shall I send through the details?”
Masumichi thought for several seconds. “I’d rather come back there and see for myself,” he said finally. “Just a moment, Iver.” He turned to the others, who were watching. “Something’s come up that I’ve been waiting for. I really need to go and check. Would you excuse me? As Sonja says, we’ve got years to talk about robots.”
“Not at all,” Helmut said. “We’re the ones who showed up unannounced.”
“You can stay on and look around some more if you wish,” Masumichi offered.”
“I’d love to,” Sonja said. “We might pick up some more ideas. You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”
Masumichi waved an arm around in the way of a host giving them free run of the place. “Go ahead. It’s not as if I’ve moved in yet. These are GPP-1/A and 1/B. They can help with any questions. It will be a good test for their language processors, too.” And then, into the phone, “I’m on my way back. See you in a few minutes.”
“Check,” Iver acknowledged, and hung up.
As far as Masumichi had been able to make out from legends of old and the records that had survived, the world had never seen anything quite like the Aurora project. He tried to picture what it meant as he sat with several others in a capsule speeding noiselessly through one of the communications transit tubes running to every part of the ship.
Undertakings on such a scale had once been coordinated by governments able to command the resources of vast territories, or by organizations, sometimes global in extent, devoted to accumulating wealth through industry and commerce. But nothing of such a nature existed in the emerging post-Conflagration world. The thousands of individuals who had been involved in making Aurora a reality did so out of belief in an idea and personal dedication, with no dependency on concentrated sources of wealth at all. Out of all the diverse drives, visions, challenges, and dreams, a single-minded purposefulness had coalesced from the wreckage of the order that had destroyed itself. Some described it as the nearest thing to a godless religion. And the common factor that bound everyone together did indeed exhibit a religious quality in the form of faith that diligence and devotion could earn a better future, and a common cause to defend against evils that would work to prevent it from happening. The faith was in the potential of the unfettered human intellect and soul to achieve a higher level of existence than one limited by considerations of survival and material security. The threat lay in the danger of allowing the power thus realized to be subjugated to serving the baser ambitions that had led to ruin instead of wisdom when humankind confronted the same choice before.
Hence, little of the scientific rediscovery that was occurring owed anything to the patronage of conquerors or money cartels in the patchwork of princedoms, city states, tribal domains, and embryonic nations that were taking shape in the present world. Instead, those who sought the higher learning, and others that chance delivered, who were judged worthy, came to Sofi, the land of those who had come to be known as the Builders. Sofi was situated on the western side of the northern part of the immense double continent that old-world maps showed as the “Americas,” now known as “Merka” and “Amazonia.” Secure along a coast facing a broad ocean, and protected by mountain and desert barriers from the miscellany of less-developed territories farther inland, Sofi was where the arts that had culminated in Aurora were consolidated and guarded. Soon now, the Builders and those who had been chosen to join them would leave to build a new world elsewhere, away from the menace of the same rising tides of rivalry and unreason that had engulfed all before. Yes, the organizational politics and logistics were complex. But capable people inspired by a common vision could work wonders.
Masumichi got off at a transit point in the lower levels and took an elevator up to emerge into surroundings of office and instrumentation cubicles, and control rooms. He found Iver at his station in an area overlooked by a large display of part of Earth that Aurora was currently passing over. It showed the snow-covered island region of Merka’s far north, outlined indistinctly beneath whorls and banks of cloud.
Iver used one of his screens to bring up an image that had been captured earlier. It showed a view looking obliquely down over a city standing astride a river, with hilly country to the south and flatter terrain broken by patches of forest to the north. A map of the south-central region of the eastern part of Asia was inset in one corner, with a highlighted rectangle framing part of the territory known locally as Arigane.
“Taken eighteen minutes ago,” Iver said. “Some false color added for enhancement.”
Masumichi identified the larger bulk of the palace and citadel in the central part of the city. He had been having the area watched for the last few days, ever since a sizeable column of what looked like mounted soldiers arrived from somewhere to the west. “You say he’s there now?” he queried, turning his head.
In reply, Iver zoomed in to a closer view that resolved the palace into two adjoining hexagons, one consisting of larger official buildings, the other to the rear, domestic and private quarters surrounding an inner retreat of courts and gardens. Standing on one side of what appeared to be a stable yard between the outer wall and the kitchens and servants’ quarters was a barrel-roofed wagon, painted bright red.
“That’s it – what you were looking for?” Iver checked.
“That’s it. We’ve been waiting weeks to see if he’d show up.”
Iver swung his seat around and leaned back curiously. “So who is he? What’s the story?” he asked.
“A potential recruit, who ran into one of the crabs a while ago,” Masumichi replied. He was referring to the remote-directed surveyors put down at out-of-the-way spots on the surface for various reasons, so called on account of their all-terrain articulated legs and manipulators. They were also equipped to support two-way visual conversations between the operators aboard Aurora and anyone of interest who might be encountered. “His name is Korshak. He has set himself an intriguing and difficult task of extricating the lady he’s decided he loves from an impossible situation. If he pulls it off, he’ll have proved himself.”
“What is he, in that horse and cart? Some kind of trader?” Iver asked.
“A traveling illusionist. Intelligent, imaginative, innovative, and eager to learn. One who sees what others don’t see, with a unique perspective on everything. I got him accepted as ideal for the kind of mix that we need.”
Iver nodded and returned a faint smile. “He sounds as if he could bring us some entertaining moments,” he agreed.
“More than just entertainment, I would hope,” Masumichi replied vaguely.
One of the reasons why Masumichi had gotten involved in recruitment was that it gave him access to the people in charge of Sofi’s limited fleet of aircraft, which typically numbered one to two hundred machines. With nowhere else to fly regular services to, its only needs were for travel within Sofi and occasional special-purpose missions farther abroad. Sometimes, individuals destined to join Aurora were flown from inaccessible faraway locations to Sofi, to be shuttled up to the ship. That was what interested Masumichi.
Not all of the various political, military, and other interests coming together in some shape or form around the world were happy about the Aurora venture. In particular, those who were themselves at various stages of technological rediscovery, and harboring ambitions of dominance, were infuriated at losing the best of their innovators to Sofi. The rulers of Masumichi’s original island homeland off the east of Asia had promised him wealth and prestige if he agreed to stay put. When he refused, things had turned ugly, with intimati
ons that members of his family might not fare so well if he didn’t change his mind. His inclination in response was to bring the closer of them with him. But even though his father had been one of the pioneer figures in the Aurora project, understandable constraints made it difficult to justify such requests beyond immediate spouses and children.
He looked again at the image of the red wagon in the stable yard, still frozen on the screen. If Korshak pulled it off, he and his companions would still face a long and perilous journey to reach Sofi. And time was getting short. Aurora was scheduled to lift out of Earth orbit in a little over two months. Four places were allotted to them, which in all probability would never be used. But as of the moment, Masumichi had no clear idea how he intended exploiting the situation.
FIVE
Korshak’s performance was given in a large salon opening off from the palace banqueting hall. It was typically used for assembling and entertaining guests prior to a major function, or as a sitting room when dances were held. Double doors from the main hall opened through to the rear of the salon’s major part, which was where the audience was seated. This included Shandrahl and his consort, Doriet, along with a retinue of nobles and ladies from their court; Prince Zileg with staff officers and officials who had accompanied him from Urst; and an assortment of palace functionaries and other notables invited for the occasion. Vaydien sat beside Zileg as his bride-to-be. Her younger half-sister, Leetha, was with her mother. The hall behind the doors at the rear was undergoing finishing touches for the banquet that would follow.
At the other end of the salon, in front of the audience, a smaller space defined by two sections of wall projecting a short distance inward provided a convenient proscenium. The areas screened by the walls on either side afforded wings where equipment could be kept out of sight until needed, or other preparations effected that might be required during an act. Black drapes at the rear curtained off a narrow space running the full width of the wall, while a door from the wing to stage left gave access to a corridor connecting serving rooms on one side of the banqueting hall to the kitchens and cellars.
