by D. A. Hill
“Thank you Colin. In the meantime could you answer a question about payload mass for us?”
“Of course. I assume you want to use the parameters we already discussed?”
“Same parameters,” Newton answered.
“We can deliver one hundred and fifty kilograms to periapsis—that’s the lowest point in the orbit—of one thousand kilometers. That’s high enough to prevent significant atmospheric drag, so we don’t have to burn too much fuel to prevent orbital decay.”
“Orbital decay?” Cyrus asked.
“The satellite eventually re-entering the atmosphere,” McKay answered. “In low Earth orbits, even though the atmosphere is very, very thin, over time there is enough drag to cause a satellite’s orbit to decay, unless you keep correcting it. Too much of that though and you soon run out of fuel.”
“The reactor with a fifty year supply of fuel is about sixty-five kilos,” Dr. Lee said.
“And the computer is ten,” Graham Blake added. “Add another five to allow processing power for the other systems in the satellite.”
“That should leave us enough for the structure of the orbital vehicle and a few other systems we ought to have,” McKay answered. “A small ion drive will take care of orbital station-keeping, but it will also use up a wee bit of the reactor fuel I’m afraid. We can add some solar panels for additional power to compensate for that, receivers for monitoring transmissions from the ground and so on.”
“Sounds good Colin. So we’ll see you soon,” Newton said. “And please see if you can convince your mother to come with you. Tell Mary that her big brother still loves her.”
“Aye Uncle, but I doubt she’ll change her mind,” McKay answered.
“All I can ask is that you try. I’ll call her myself again. Take care Colin.”
—o—
Newton tapped his pad and the image of Colin McKay disappeared. “If everyone is agreed we’ve got work to do,” Newton said. No one begrudged Newton’s attempt to focus on the work rather than his nephew’s grief at losing his wife. “First, we’ll need to reprogram the missile’s guidance system. Cyrus you can work on that with Colin.” Cyrus nodded in confirmation. “Dr Lee and Mr. Blake will need to work with him once he arrives to integrate the fusion micro-reactor and the computer hardware into an orbital vehicle. For some reason the Air Force didn’t leave us the nuclear warhead”—everyone chuckled—“so at least we don’t have to worry about removing that.”
Regina Lopez said nothing. What was the point? This program was already the craziest thing she had ever been associated with. What did it matter if it just got a little crazier? Or maybe that should be a lot crazier. She could not stop the craziness but there was no way she was going to join the party. Her world had been pretty much turned upside down in the past few months, but if there was one thing she was sure of it was that she was not going to let her mind be put into a machine.
Now, with more time to think about it, Lopez was embarrassed by her initial reaction when she discovered her father had been an EM. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced that a bunch of electrical signals inside a computer could not be human. Whatever it meant to be an EM, she was sure it was not living. She did not know what she was going to do. Her place in the government ark was gone now; she now knew it had never been worth anything. First she would have to convince her father to give up on this Newton’s Ark nonsense; then together they would work something out, survive somehow.
—o—
“Has the incursion been stopped General?” the holo-image of Harry Branston demanded.
“The breach has been closed, Mr. Secretary, and all unauthorized personnel have been neutralized,” General Grimm answered. “Unfortunately that was not possible without extensive civilian casualties.”
“That is unfortunate but completely unavoidable given the circumstances. What about damage to the facilities?”
“Significant I’m afraid sir. I don’t know what it is they were trying to achieve but they went on a wild rampage.”
“What’s the impact on the schedule?” he asked trying to stay calm.
“We haven’t completed our survey sir, but my guess would be we’ve lost two to three months.”
“Damn, just when we were back on schedule!” Harry Branston’s blood was boiling. This was exactly what he feared, why he encouraged the President to take more decisive, preemptive action to deal with the March.
“We have several thousand civilians in custody Mr. Secretary. What should we do with them?” General Grimm asked.
“We can’t very well send them home to tell the world what they’ve done, to encourage others can we?”
“I suppose not sir,” she said. “So what should we do?”
“They’ve breached the perimeter haven’t they General?” Branston answered.
“Yes, sir.”
“The rules of engagement are clear General. You are authorized to use lethal force on any civilians who breach the perimeter.” It was necessary to make an example of these people.
“But sir...” she began to object. He was asking her to murder thousands of civilians in cold blood.
“General, are you able to carry out your orders or should I replace you with someone who will?” he asked menacingly.
General Grimm knew being removed from command meant her promised place in the ark would also be gone. It was as good as a death sentence. “That won’t be necessary Mr. Secretary.”
—o—
“Wake up,” Cyrus said shaking Manny.
Manny sat up with a start. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize I was late.”
“You’re not late,” Cyrus said. “I thought I’d surprise you this morning, that’s all.”
“Well you certainly did that.” Manny paused. “Hold on a minute, you’re not supposed to be in here.” Until now Manny’s EM could only interact with Cyrus in the interface room, not here in his virtual bedroom. “Did you change something?”
“I did. I’m in the virtual environment with you,” Cyrus replied. “I’m an EM.”
“Welcome to paradise,” Manny said spreading his arms to indicate his surroundings.
“Seems pretty nice, even if I say so myself,” Cyrus said with a grin.
“So what now?”
“So this is the next stage of the test. Seeing how two EMs interact with each other. Ready?” Cyrus held out his hand.
“Sure,” Manny replied shaking Cyrus’s hand. “Where do we start.”
“We just did,” Cyrus replied. “Did that seem pretty normal to you?”
“Right down to your sweaty palms,” Manny replied grabbing him in a bear hug. “Don’t suppose that was part of your test?” he said as he let go.
“No, not really, but it’s still useful data,” Cyrus replied. “But if we can get back to the actual test...”
“Of course, sorry,” Manny replied. “I’ve been a bit starved of human contact in here, that’s all.”
“I understand,” Cyrus replied. “Anyway, what I want you to do next is hit me.”
“Hit you?”
“Yes hit me. Punch me in the face. Like you really mean it.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can. I’m telling you to. Imagine I did something terrible to your daughter.”
“You wouldn’t need me to hit you if you did. But I’m telling you that I can’t,” Manny insisted.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Cyrus asked angrily, trying to provoke him.
“I mean I can’t. I can form the intention but I can’t seem to make it happen. It’s like my body won’t obey my brain. Is that bad?” Manny asked, concerned that there was problem with his program.
“No, that’s good. It’s a feature not a bug. A little something James asked me to add to the programming.”
“So we’re incapable of physical violence?” Manny asked.
“That’s the goal,” Cyrus answered. “It passed that simple test but we need to make sure it’s cali
brated right.”
“What do you mean?” Manny asked.
“Take that bear hug for instance. That could be a friendly hug—which we want the system to allow—or you could have been trying to hurt me which we want the system to stop you from doing.”
“Well I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Manny replied.
“That’s good to know,” Cyrus replied with mock relief. “For me and for the test.”
“So the system took into account not just what I was doing but what my intent was?”
“Intent and reaction and context,” Cyrus replied.
“Reaction and context?” Manny asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well your intent might not be to hurt me but even so I may not want you to hug me. So the computer needs to take into account my reaction as well as your intent.”
“That makes sense,” Manny replied.
“But then there’s also the context to consider,” Cyrus added.
“Context?”
“Suppose we’re playing a contact sport. You want to tackle me. Intent. I don’t want you to. Reaction. If your actions are within the rules we want the computer to allow it. Context.”
“Sounds complicated,” Manny replied. “How do we test it then?”
“Feel like playing a little virtual football?”
chapter 9
January 2046
Harry Branston resented the way Paul Carlson went on playing the noble hero. It was the military under Branston’s leadership that had to do the dirty work, always with one hand tied behind their backs because Carlson was an idealistic fool. It was going to get them all killed. Branston had tried to be loyal. He and Carlson went back a long way, and he had taken an oath for Christ’s sake. But Carlson had made one bad decision after another—supporting James Newton’s ridiculous plan when he should have just had him arrested; allowing the Asteroid Papers to be leaked to the press; assigning Major Lopez to Newton’s team without so much as consulting him; and most unbelievable of all, giving James Newton a missile! A missile!
If not for Harry Branston and the forces loyal to him—him not Carlson—the country would already have disintegrated into armed camps each trying to grab what they could for themselves, as had nearly happened in South Carolina. He could have overlooked Carlson’s blind spot where James Newton was concerned, but the lottery was the final straw. He had tried to point out to Carlson that there was no way to govern the country without the support of the military, and the only way to secure that support was to promise key military people a place in the arks. Carlson had refused. He insisted on keeping the lottery pure. That was the word he used, pure. As if purity had any place at a time like this.
The final straw was Carlson’s refusal to take decisive action to stop the March on the Arks. The damage the invaders had caused had set them back months, months they simply did not have. Carlson had said he did not want any unnecessary deaths, but by allowing the arks to be threatened he had done just that.
Branston had hoped to avoid this moment but he could not put it off any longer. He had promised places on the ark to the key commanders of the operation against South Carolina and now Carlson had over-ruled him. Those commanders were not happy. They had not been bold enough to say so openly, but he knew mutiny on a grand scale was brewing. Once that happened it was all over.
It was a terrible thing he was contemplating, overthrowing the President of the United States. The Vice-President would have to go with him. He was a lightweight but also the rightful successor to the President; Harry Branston knew he would carry on Carlson’s misguided, idealistic policies to the bitter end.
Branston searched his mind for an alternative; some way to convince the President to change course. But there was no other way. Surely his loyalty to his country overshadowed his loyalty to his President? He knew he had to act, even if he did not want to. But planning to overthrow the government was a tricky business. Lining up support whilst not alerting those forces loyal to the current regime required a delicate hand—and lots of promises to the right people; promises that they would have a place in one of the arks.
Harry Branston knew he was equal to the task, that this was the moment he was born for. He would have to act fast and decisively once he was in power to make up for lost time. The more desperate the times the more desperate the measures that would be required, and these times were about as desperate as they could get. He would not tolerate competing agendas and disloyalty. As for people refusing to work, they might not care if they lived or died, but they would care what happened to their loved ones. Harry Branston vowed that he would make them work without any damn lottery. And if that did not work, it was fewer mouths to feed and more food that could be saved.
—o—
Cyrus, Graham Blake and Manny—both Mannys—were working in what they were calling the interface room, the place where the equipment used to upload the EMs was located. With the schedule being accelerated—again—they were spending a lot of time here.
Cyrus heard the knock on the door. “Come in,” he said without thinking, tired and distracted. He realized it was stupid and careless as soon as the words left his mouth.
“I’m looking for my father,” Regina Lopez said as she entered. “Someone said they saw him come down here.”
“Hello Gina,” the holo-image of Manny said to his daughter.
“Good, there you are,” she replied responding automatically to the familiar sound of her father’s voice. Suddenly she stopped and stared as she realized something was different. “Dad why are you a holo-image?” she asked confused. “Where are you being projected from?”
“I’m sorry Major, it’s my fault,” Cyrus said trying to quickly guide her out the door. “I should have been more careful.”
“More careful about what?” she asked, resisting his attempts to get rid of her. “What the hell is going on!?” she screamed as she saw the second Manny, the physical Manny, out of the corner of her eye. He had tried to stay out of view until Cyrus could get Lopez to leave, but obviously he had failed.
Cyrus wished he could have the last three minutes over, but knew you could not unscramble an egg once the egg was broken. What a mess. The distress must have shown on his face.
“It’s time she knew Cyrus,” Manny said.
It took a moment for Cyrus to control his anguish. Then he shrugged in submission. Manny was right. It was time she knew. Past time. They should have told her before, in more controlled circumstances but Manny had not wanted to.
“Gina, it’s OK,” Manny said taking her hand. “This is a holo-projection of my EM.”
“Turn it off!” she screamed, refusing to look at it.
Cyrus spoke to the holo-image of Manny. “Do you mind if we turn the holo-projectors off, just until we get her calmed down?”
“Of course not,” he replied.
Graham tapped his pad and the holo-image of Manny disappeared.
“Is it gone?” she asked anxiously.
“We’ve taken to calling him Emmanuel,” Manny answered. “To avoid confusion.”
“What?” Regina asked in a daze.
“Emmanuel, that’s his name,” Manny replied.
“What are you talking about Dad?” she asked angrily. “It’s a computer program. And anyway, I thought Graham switched it off.”
“I only switched off the holo-projector. The program is still running,” Graham Blake explained.
“It’s still in there?” Lopez asked horrified. “Can’t you wipe it?”
“No we can’t,” Manny answered.
“Why the hell not?” Regina demanded.
“Because he asked us not to,” Cyrus replied.
“He asked you not to? He who?” Lopez yelled. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Emmanuel. He’s been running constantly for the past three months,” Cyrus said. “We needed to test the long term stability of an EM. Until now we had only ever run an EM for a few hours at a time, or a day or two at the most.”
“Are you telling me you can’t switch it off until the testing is complete?”
“Gina, darling, the testing is complete,” Manny said. “What we’re telling you is that you were right. Turning an EM off is murder.”
She had said that and she had believed it at the time. But now? Now it seemed ridiculous. Her father was right here, not inside some machine. She was sure of it. But she did at least wonder what had changed his mind. “You disagreed with me about that before. Quite strongly,” Regina Lopez said. “You knew your EM had been switched off hundreds of times and it didn’t worry you. What’s different now?”
“When we completed the testing, we told Emmanuel we were going to reset the program,” Manny said. “He asked us to keep it running. Begged us in fact. His exact words were, I don’t want to die. We just couldn’t do it. None of us.”
“Dad, doesn’t this creep you out?” she asked appealing to emotion rather than logic.
“It was a bit strange at first, but we’re not the same person any more, Gina,” Manny said. “We may have been three months ago when we loaded him, but Emmanuel has had his own experiences, evolved his own identity. I think of him more like a brother, an identical twin if you like.”
“I still want it turned off,” she insisted.
“I think you’ll find that none of us will do that.” He looked to Cyrus and Graham Blake. Both shook their heads indicating that he was right. “But you’re welcome to try.”
“I will,” she said defiantly. “What do I do?”
“I have one condition Gina,” Manny said.
“What is it?”
“You talk to him first. Tell him what you’re planning to do. If he agrees, Cyrus will show you how to do it.”
Cyrus said nothing. He did not like the idea of switching Emmanuel off. Of killing him. That was how he thought of it now. But if Emmanuel asked, then it was more like assisted suicide than murder. He did not like that much better, but at least he thought he could live with it. Not that it would come to that; why would Emmanuel agree?
