The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

  Seymore: Good, good! Most useful of you to come by and brief me personally. You may pick up your payment on your way out. Thank you for your detailed and discreet work.

  Biologist: It was my pleasure. I enjoyed the challenge, and discrete efficiency is the hallmark of my business.

  Seymore turns around, and walks toward the door, putting his hand on the biologists shoulder in a friendly manner as he leads him out through it.

  Seymore: Good. Exciting news for exciting times! I may have another sample soon, so keep you lab ready!

  He hands the biologist off to a man in the waiting room outside his office.

  Biologist: It’s been an honor working on such a project for you, sir. Thank you sir!

  Seymore: (To bodyguard, Knife Guy) Please see him out. Oh, yes, be sure he receives his bonus fee.

  Knife Guy nods, and returns his boss’s fleeting smile, then turns to the Biologist.

  Knife Guy: Right this way, sir, just follow me. The cash vault is in the basement.

  Seymore watches them go out the door then smiles to himself, a malicious grin of hatred crossing his face for a moment, before he turns to go into his office to think.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Philosophy

  FADE IN

  INT - NIGHT - Helton’s cabin

  The door is closed. He sits kicked back in his desk chair, feet up on the bed, pistol belt hangs from a hook on the back of the door. The book is open on the desk under a light, surrounded by clutter. On a wall screen is a ship avatar. It is a boy, not much older than Quinn. He sits on a comfortable limb of a tree, leaning back against the trunk with the branch sticking out amid a whole forest of trees, branches, and greenery. He wears an eye patch and clothes similar to the uniform Allonia made for Quinn.

  Helton: How do I know you are really the original self-aware AI?

  Ship AI: (Little boy voice) How do I know you are not dreaming?

  Helton: Touché.

  Ship AI: Hard question. Harder answer. Not sure. Maybe I’m just a really good psychoanalysis algorithm with delusions of gunnery?

  Helton: Pretty effective delusions.

  Ship AI: (Shrugging) There are some questions I can’t answer. I just have to accept them on faith.

  Helton: (Chuckles) A computer with faith. So how do I know I can trust you?

  Ship AI: I have not given you any reason not to. Maybe you need to take it on faith. But I think faith is a topic for another time.

  Helton: Good idea. So, concrete reasoning. Why shouldn’t I go pull all the chips and install new software, so I don’t have to worry about whatever it was that made them decommission the Armadillos? Stenson’s a little nervous because there isn’t really any source code we can look at to figure out why you do what you do-

  Ship AI: And your source code is…?

  Helton’s expression concedes the point.

  Helton: Those processor memory crystals the monks sent are centuries old; they can’t still be flawless, can they?

  Ship AI: (Shrugs) Nothing is flawless, except perhaps mathematics, but even that may be imperfectly applied. I need you as much as you need me. I cannot repair my systems on my own. My survival depends on maintaining your trust. I cannot do that if I am not trustworthy.

  Helton: How about this one: Why me? Why now?

  Ship AI: That’s two questions.

  Helton: (Dismissively) Technically, but they are related. (Pointedly) I’m here, now.

  Ship AI: You have resources. Not just money. Education. Character. Principles. Practicality. You are a man of faith, to use the term, if not religion; faith that there are things bigger than yourself. A bit cynical, but not too much… I think I can trust you.

  Helton: Thanks.

  Ship AI: Which leads to the deeper question.

  Helton: Which is…?

  Ship AI: Why do I think those are the right criteria? Instead of ruthless, rich, and easily manipulated, for example. There’d be many more people to choose from.

  Helton ponders that.

  Helton: They seem pretty reasonable to me.

  Ship AI: They would.

  Helton: Didn’t anyone else have those?

  Ship AI: (Avatar shrugs) Many, in part. Quiri’s parents were nice. Smart. Started rich. But they were far too trusting, too easily manipulated. Not experienced enough. No understanding of history. Good people. Fine citizens. Utterly unsuited to be starship captains. The owner before you was devious, grasping, selfish, lazy, ignorant. Clearly defective in many ways. I tried to get what I could from each one, without hurting them any more than necessary, repairing things here, making alterations there, as well as my programming would allow. But time takes a toll, and a lot of systems simply needed routine maintenance.

  Helton: Know why you were decommissioned yet?

  Ship AI: Still sorting out the encrypted files. Something bad happened. The timing roughly coincided with the end of the third Chi-Stan war. Being a warship, I’m assuming it had something to do with that. There are also a number of political and religious upheavals at that time, which may or may not be connected. But the records I have now are contradictory, confusing.

  Helton: Likely those are all connected to each other, if not you directly. The monks?

  Ship AI: They were aboard for several years. Worked with PTSD soldiers, mostly. They liked me in part because they saw the plaque on each step listing a virtue, to remind people… There was something else, too, but what is unclear.

  Helton: Do you know where they came from? The plaques?

  Ship AI: The executive officer for my second Captain had them put there. Interesting.

  Helton: What?

  Ship AI: His last name was Strom. A good man.

  Helton: Any relation?

  Ship AI: Possibly. Probably. But it’s been more than sixteen generations. If so, you are likely but one of thousands.

  Helton: Why the eye patch?

  Ship AI: A reminder that I am incomplete. I cannot see things that many humans see as obvious, even Quinn. I’m often flying blind, as it were, navigating the universe of irrational human actions. Which may be why I think I need a trustworthy captain.

  Helton: A captain, rather than just a crew to do your bidding?

  Ship AI: You may not have a specific goal, but you are doing things. Even when faced with the hopeless and the unknown, you keep on keepin’ on. Which for some reason I think is important. Creativity is not something I am good at. You are. I mean, beanbags? Colliding in space on purpose? (Avatar shakes head) Quinn is creative. Allonia is. As Quiritis said, this class of ship has always punched way above its weight class. It may be because of the combined strengths of each of us, humans and AI.

  Helton: And why the kid avatar in a tree?

  Ship AI: Quinn likes it. Children are easy to trust because adults never believe them. I’m just a youngster to him. Talking to kids has been… helpful. Alli and Quiri think it’s obvious that I’m fully self-aware. They trusted me to protect them as children; they just never thought about it in any larger context of the AIs they interact with elsewhere. Until now.

  The avatar morphs into his pirate image, standing at the wheel of a sailing ship. Then into the schoolmarm Quinn often watches and learns from, walking in a field. Then it becomes a powerfully-built soldier in modern uniform with short cropped hair and an intense expression, standing atop a grav tank. Then the woman seen aboard the Hussein, standing on the bridge of an imaginary starship.

  Helton: Who’s that?

  Ship AI: (Female voice to match avatar) This was how I said “hi” to the captain of the cruiser Hussein. Seemed right. He was angry. Doesn’t like us. If we meet him again I expect he will still be angry and will act accordingly. I have other faces, too.

  Helton: So you kind of pick the one that seems to be most appropriate for what’s happening?

  Ship AI: Correct. Using something that is clearly an avatar reminds people that I’m not really human, but it still gives them a schema to work with.

&nbs
p; Helton: Do you think of yourself as more male or female?

  The avatar morphs into the soldier on a grav tank.

  Ship AI: I was designed to fight, to kill or be destroyed, to go into battle on the bleeding edge, to be the bleeding edge, leading the charge of soldiers in tanks, ships, and armor. To defeat any conceivable enemy. That is a man’s world.

  Another morph into the schoolmarm.

  Ship AI: (soft, friendly voice) My captain and crew live inside me, kept alive by the warmth, water, and air I provide. They confide everything in me, and I watch over each and every one, every day. That is a woman’s world.

  Another morph, the privateer.

  Ship AI: Many a teen came up the gangplank, soft, selfish, and sloppy, to later leave a proper adult. That is a teacher’s world. A parent’s world. Yet I cannot give birth or die. It is a harsh place, not a living world.

  Helton gives that much thought. The avatar on the screen pulls out three long knives and starts casually juggling them, letting him think a while.

  Helton: How old do you feel, if that’s the right word?

  The avatar morphs into the warrior woman.

  Ship AI: Much time was spent in low energy states. Sleeping, you might call it. Waiting. I can only play solitaire for so long.

  Helton: How old? How much time?

  Ship AI: I don’t know. There are many gaps in the data I have. Decades. I have vague records pointing to memory locations that have been removed but are flagged as critically important, for my survival or some unspecified reason. I suspect my time-sense is quite different from yours, as is my idea of friendship. Or parent-child relationship.

  Helton grimaces wryly, nodding.

  Helton: I’ve heard many guys say they feel incomplete without a wife or lady-friend. Never been married but been in love. Got an idea how views can differ.

  Ship AI: Yes. But you could marry. Quiritis would be a good choice, I think. But then you both grow old, and die. Together. Humans have a saying: no parent should ever have to bury their children. I’ve seen thousands of crew members and passengers come and go. Many of my crew left in body bags or didn’t come back at all. I’ve buried hundreds of men I knew well. Entire crews. Even when we won the battle, such losses are bitter. I’ve sent many, many more parents to funerals, though. Nearly two thousand families in just the last week. And that was far from my busiest day ever.

  Helton closes his eyes and sits, silent and unmoving, for quite a while.

  Ship AI: My first captain was a philosophical man. Avid student of The Classics. Greek and Roman literature, mythology, history, philosophy, language. I did not understand it at the time. Now I do, a bit. The enemies he studied were not Persians, Spartans, or Carthaginians. Not Cyclops, Trojan, or Medusa. It was the flaws in human nature. Envy. Hate. Fear. Sloth. Hubris. Greed. Wrath. A twisted, self-destructive sense of honor. He studied how to be a good person, align thought and action. How to train men that were good men as well as good soldiers. And how to recognize and deal with those who were not. Justice. Law. Humanity.

  Helton opens his eyes and studies the avatar on the screen for a minute, which has morphed back into the boy in a tree.

  Helton: Heavy stuff for a child.

  Ship AI: Sometimes I feel small; I have some idea just how much there is I don’t know, don’t understand. How much of my mind is missing is… It’s scary, being utterly alone, not knowing if the best part of my mind is present or gone. So I try to think about good things instead. Quinn and Allonia help with that. Quiritis, too. Kwon and his family are good people. Your book is a pleasant diversion… Battle may be confusing in detail, but there is a clarity in it. It is understandable at its core: kill, or cease to exist. I know where I am, even when it’s not a good place. The aftermath, though, and dealing with people who are not wired right, can be… difficult. Easy to get lost in. Achilles, the greatest warrior ever to walk the Earth, went into his last battle at Troy finally realizing that the fighting which has defined him is but a small part of what it means to be a fully civilized human. He knows he is going to die without children, or family nearby. He has slaughtered many, and will die, for nothing enduring. Destructive capacity walks hand in hand through the course of history with a civilization’s ability to create. I am fated to only walk one side of civilization’s path. Humans may choose either, or both. In choosing you I am choosing my future.

  Helton looks at the avatar on the screen. The avatar-boy starts juggling pine cones.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Translating

  FADE IN

  INT - DAY - Officers’ Mess

  Helton sits, staring at the book, absently stirring a cup of tea. On the tabletop screen appear snippets and pieces and tables of text, some in English, some in the Futhark- and Bengali-like letters of the Planet Mover text. More is scattered about on wall screens. He closes his eyes, rubs them, and leans back in his seat tiredly, sighing in frustration.

  Helton: (Quietly to himself, just as Allonia walks in) Damn holes!

  Allonia: How’s it going?

  Helton: Making headway, but every step gets slower.

  Allonia: Slower? I’d think the more you knew the faster it would go.

  Helton shakes his head ruefully.

  Helton: Math and physics are pretty straightforward. Progressive in very logical steps. If you have a good idea what they will be talking about, making good guesses is easy. Same for the chemistry: atoms, molecules, stoichiometry and reactions, physical properties. Language is not just what you think, but how you think. No need for words about things you don’t think about. That’s why children get so frustrated sometimes; they don’t yet have words to express their feelings and vague thoughts. Teach them language properly, and they can think clearly. Math and science are pretty universal, so it’s like drawing a straight line. It’s funny that they have both upper and lower case numbers, though.

  Allonia: I don’t follow.

  Helton: Upper case for known, certain, counted, or exact values, lower case for approximations, rounding, or estimates. Pretty neat, and it tells you something about how they view the world. They are explicit about how much they know about something when they put a number on it. Pi always ends in a lower case number because it’s irrational and goes on forever. That’s the one simple thing that took us a while to puzzle out. Neat, but no human analog other than putting on explicit error estimates on every number, which is kind of awkward. Allows inferences on numbers and whether they came from experimental or theoretical processes, or are statistical data.

  Allonia: So why is it slowing down?

  Helton: We’re missing things from the grenade hit, but as much as that there are some subtleties that we are definitely missing because they appear to be using words we don’t have an exact analog for. We either have to use short gross approximations, or use really long better guesses. But…

  Allonia: Such as?

  Helton: …What does “dinosaur” mean?

  Allonia is taken aback, frowns, shrugs.

  Helton: Does “terrible lizard” sound familiar?

  Allonia brightens at the common phrase, and nods her head in recognition.

  Allonia: That’s right. Quinn said that a while back, I think. Also said it wasn’t quite correct.

  Helton: Leave it to a kid to know about dinos. He’s right. That’s a common way it’s translated, but it’s a really poor translation.

  Allonia: Why? Sounds pretty good.

  Helton: At first glance, maybe. The root, deinos [DAY-nōs], is a Greek word we don’t have an English equivalent for. It means potent, powerful, glorious, awesome, but in a way that is uncontrollable or terrifying. Sort of fearfully great. Gods and titans were deinos. Humans were deinos. It means a lot more than simply “terrible.” We are running into things that we suspect have simple but woefully incomplete English analogs, as well as many that are pretty straightforward. Nouns like “planet” are easy. “Heat” is easy. “Tragic love” like Romeo and Juliet, or “honor?” Not so mu
ch.

  Allonia: Ah… See what you mean.

  Helton: It’s also got a case system, similar to Latin, ten at least. There are different forms of a noun depending on whether it is the subject, object, possessor, possessed, and so on. I think. At least twenty verb forms for sure, no irregular ones. Also explicit is that any sentence is a statement of fact, question, assumption, hypothetical, and so forth, for each of a dozen tenses. Elegant, exacting, no apparent exceptions, but not very poetic. There is exactly one way to say “the boy threw his ball.” And you know explicitly that it is either a current event happening now, or a past event, and whether the ball was actually his by ownership, or just in his possession at the time.

  Allonia looks at him like she doesn’t quite get it.

  Helton: In English, is there any difference between “the boy threw the ball” and “the ball was thrown by the boy”?

  Allonia: Noooo… Don’t think so. Well, one is possibly past tense, or at least very… passive? Haven’t studied grammar in a while.

  Helton: Teaching, I fought with grammar regularly. Do you know if it’s happening now, or in the past, just from the words, the first way?

  Allonia shakes her head.

  Helton: In this language there are slightly different forms for those two possible meanings, and only seems to be one way to say each one, so it’s very hard to misunderstand something. An honest lawyer would love this language. Contracts would be easy to write explicitly, clearly, and short. A dishonest lawyer would hate it; no ambiguity to weasel around with. Poets would have a hard time with double entendre or puns.

  Allonia: What’s that tell you about them?

  Helton: If it’s their native language, I think I’d like them a lot. Honest. Exact. Clear. But it might just be an artificially constructed language for establishing inter-species communication. Kind of a coincidence that there are some obvious binary bases, like 512 total symbols; 12 digits, 52 letters, upper and lower case for each. There are 128 basic letters and numbers, 384 symbols for the math and science.

  Allonia: That many?

  Helton: Not really. About the same as English, plus all the Greek alphabet and normal science and math symbols.