by Jade Kerrion
“What part of ‘SIM-709: World Simulation’ do you not understand? This is a simulation. This is where you’re allowed to make mistakes safely, before you enter the real world and screw up there too. Think ‘petri dish’ instead of ‘planet’ if that helps. There’s very little difference between this planet and the colony of bacteria I’m growing in my genetics lab right now.”
Kir tilted his head, the subtle gesture challenging. “So why did you save Niseag?”
“I didn’t. You did.”
“She and her family survived the impact, but they should have been wiped out in the aftermath. Yet after I’d left, you told SimOne to relocate her, and evolve her so she’d survive. Why?”
“You went to all the trouble to save her in the first place, so I figured why not just see the damn thing through?”
“That’s it?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Damn him for putting her on the defensive.
Kir was briefly silent. “Two weeks, Moran. I’m giving this project two weeks.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.”
“So why are you still sulking?”
“Because you can’t commit. Are the two weeks some kind of probationary period for the planet, the class, or for me? Why do I or anyone else have to prove something to you? Why can’t you grow a spine and decide that you are going to do this, come hell or high water?”
Kir laughed. That reaction she had not expected. His tone was almost affectionate as he said, “You’re funny and cute in an earnest do-or-die way.”
Funny and cute were not the traits she had been striving to display. They got nowhere in the real world. She slammed to her feet. “Go ahead and drop the damn class, Davos.”
He caught up with her before she had stalked out of the cafeteria. “I seem to find myself running after you pretty often,” he remarked mildly.
She snarled at him.
Kir shook his head. “Relax. It was an observation, a fact, the same kind of thing you’re always so hung up on in class.” He flashed her a wide grin. “You’re right. I’ll do this. We’ll probably drive each other crazy before the year is out, but we’ll do it together.”
Jem had to admit that Kir Davos could be charming, but she was far less interested in his charm than in his willingness to put in whatever effort was necessary to get the job done. By the time they arrived at the simulation laboratory after lunch, SimOne was already in position next to the planet.
“How’s Niseag’s doing?” was Kir’s first question to SimOne.
“Niseag’s descendants are thriving in their new habitat in the northern lake. They have no natural predators, but limited resources reduce the possibility of a hostile takeover of their adopted habitat.”
“Have you been reading my business books, SimOne?”
“I am programmed to adapt to the preferred communication styles of my team members.”
If Jem did not know better, she would have thought that the android was flirting with Kir.
“The professor suggested slowing down the revolutions in the simulation. What do you think?” Kir asked the android.
“I am glad the professor conveyed my recommendation to you.”
“You came up with the idea?” Jem asked. She shot Kir a quick glance. “Why didn’t you just tell us?”
“On a scale of one to ten, you and Kir Davos score one point eight and two point one respectively for listening skills.”
“All right.” Kir nodded thoughtfully. “Our goal for today is to nudge those scores up by at least a quarter of a percentage point. Got that, SimOne?”
“I will continue to monitor your scores.”
Kir looked at Jem. “We’ll need to get a sense of humor programmed into her.”
Jem shrugged. “She’s already got sarcasm down pat. Humor is just a small hop, skip, and jump from there.”
“Thank you,” SimOne said.
Jem grinned. “See? I rest my case. All right, SimOne. What speed do you recommend?”
“Whatever works at any particular time. Would you like me to make those decisions based on the sensor reports from the planet?”
“Uh…” Jem hesitated.
“You will be able to override those decisions at any time.”
“And she’s a mind reader, too,” Jem muttered. “All right, SimOne. You manage the speed of the simulation, and we’ll see how we do. How’s the planet holding up?”
“There were several continental collisions ten million revolutions ago, but the continents have since settled into a relatively stable state. The planet is cooling, and the forests are receding, to be replaced by savannah. The mammals have diverged from a few small and simple forms into a diverse collection of terrestrial, marine, and flying creatures.”
“Really?” Kir leaned forward eagerly. “Can we see them?”
SimOne held out her palm, and light coalesced into flickering shapes. Some animals seemed similar, at least if one was willing to make broad generalizations, to mammals that existed on Sylvania. The resemblance, however, only went so far. “Look at the teeth on that cat. How does it even close its mouth?” Kir wondered.
Jem peered over his shoulder. The cat’s curved incisors were completely disproportionate to the size of the cat. “Very carefully, I’d imagine. Anything humanoid, SimOne?”
“Not yet.”
“What are the chances of that happening without direct intervention?”
“Negligible,” SimOne said.
“I guess it’s time for some well-intentioned interference,” Jem said, looking at Kir.
He shrugged. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, so why not?”
Jem chuckled. “SimOne, please identify suitable targets for evolution into humanoid life forms.”
“What is your final goal?”
Even the android knew that the destination would determine the path taken. Jem looked at Kir, her eyebrows arched in a silent question.
Kir shrugged. “What would it take to make people just like us?”
“There are no suitable targets for evolution,” SimOne reported.
He sighed. “So we’ll have to start from scratch?”
Jem inhaled deeply. She would find out if all those years she had spent in biology laboratories were worth anything. “SimOne, let’s connect.”
The android extended her hand, and Jem reached out. Fingers joined at the tips. Jem braced for the jolt, for the physical contact between biological and artificial intelligence.
It was not her first time. The first time had been like losing her virginity, a loss of innocence, a loss of the birthright of invulnerability that came with being the dominant species on the planet. She had not enjoyed that feeling, but she had gotten used to it. After all, it was part of life.
SimOne’s touch was cool but not uncomfortable. The android’s pleasantly cultured voice spoke directly to Jem’s mind. Connection established.
It was much faster and far more accurate than communicating ideas verbally, though her father used to say that the biological-AI connection allowed humans to make bigger mistakes faster.
She missed him still.
Deliberately, Jem pushed the thought aside. The one problem with biological-AI connections was that the accuracy of the transmission was entirely dependent on the human. It was not the right time for mental distractions. Instead, she focused her thoughts on the human archetype designs she had created over months of hard work. If Jem could hold the thought clearly enough for the AI to map the pathways of knowledge through her brain, the AI would accurately extract all the information embedded in the design.
Primary target acquired. Mapping neural pathways. Please hold…
Neural pathways mapped. Downloading data…
Data download complete. Please hold for verification…
Data verification complete. We have all the information we need. Thank you for your cooperation.
As SimOne disconnected, Jem shook her head, breaking out of her trance-li
ke state.
“You all right?” Kir asked.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged his hand off. “SimOne, what do you think of the plans?”
“You have plans for two humanoid species. Which one should I execute?”
“Both of them, one after the other.”
“Executing.”
Jem was silent as the information was meticulously crafted into a humanoid.
Light shimmered from SimOne’s open palm. Jem held her breath.
“He’s not going to win any beauty contests soon,” Kir remarked as he watched from over her shoulder. “But at least there’s more than just a glimmer of intelligence in his eyes.”
“The beauty contests start after the invention of high heels. That’s going to take several thousand years,” Jem said absently. “All right, turn it loose.”
“Executing.”
After a slight pause, the astral image shimmered again, this time with Jem’s second concept of a human.
“Looking better.” Kir even sounded approving. “Are you going to turn this one loose as well? Will they be able to cross-breed?”
“Conceptually, yes. Realistically, unlikely. Paranoia is highly developed among prehistoric humans; it keeps them alive. More likely, the second version will wipe out the first if they ever come into contact.”
“And so human history begins in war. Typical, but that’s bloody depressing regardless.”
Jem grinned. “We can do better than that. We’ll give them a clean slate by putting some distance between the two groups. Environmental factors on our beautifully unstable planet will determine which group survives.”
He smirked. “Sarcasm’s not necessary, Jem. Why don’t we put the second batch right there?” Kir pointed to a spot on the planet, strategically positioned at the juncture of three continents. The land was unusually verdant, watered by the meeting of four rivers. There, life frolicked in glorious abundance.
“Perfect,” Jem agreed.
SimOne’s blue eyes glowed. “Executing…”
4
A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was separated into four headwaters. The name of the first is the Pishon…The name of the second river is the Gihon…The name of the third river is the Tigris…And the fourth river is the Euphrates…
– Genesis 2:10-14
* * *
“How’s your class going?”
“Hmm?” Jem looked up drowsily. The couch was far more comfortable than it should have been, or perhaps she was far more tired than she should have been. She sat up, stretched, and then stifled a yawn as she looked across the breadth of the living room at her boyfriend, Rio Loren, who sat at the kitchen table, his blond hair gleaming in the glow of his astral workstation. Jem shrugged, the motion tugging at her shoulder muscles. “It’s going well. Our planet’s still alive. Considering it’s the first week, that’s something of an accomplishment.”
Rio smiled, his slate blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “You don’t look as tense.”
“The first week felt out of control. Now that we’ve slowed the simulation down, it’s a different kind of tension. We can’t blame screw ups on thousands of years going by faster than we can blink.”
Rio chuckled. “So was this class worth the hundreds of hours you spent lobbying all your professors to write letters of recommendation for you?”
“We’ll see. The stardust from winning the competition will go a long way, and God knows, I need all the stardust I can get.”
He snorted. “You’re the one person who does not need stardust.”
“Well, I’d like my stardust to come from something other than an accident of birth.” Jem’s tone spiked with mild irritation as it always did whenever she was reminded of the real her.
Rio shook his head as he pushed away from his astral workstation and walked toward her. “You have a chip on your shoulder larger than Kalypso,” he said, referring to the larger of Sylvania’s two moons. “You need to relax. You’ll be fine. I don’t know anyone more focused and driven than you are.”
“It’d be fine if it was just me, but there are others in the team and—”
“Is this elusive thing called ‘team work’ hanging you up?” Rio leaned down and kissed her on her snub nose.
Jem twitched away, bringing up both hands to cover her nose. “Stop it. No noses!”
“I can’t help it.” Rio grinned. “It’s calling to me.” He flung himself down on the couch beside her, automatically wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “So, the team’s not working out?”
She snuggled into his warmth. “I don’t know. It’s too early to tell.”
“I can beat them up if they’re not nice to you.”
“Are you going to beat up the android too?” she teased.
“Only if it doesn’t have the self-defense program installed.”
“So your chivalry has its limits.”
“Everything does.” Rio nuzzled her spiky brown hair affectionately. “Who else is on the team?”
“Kir Davos. He’s a senior. Business major.”
Rio shrugged. “What good is business in a world simulation program?”
“I don’t know, but he keeps talking about risk diversification like it’s a good thing.” Jem glanced up as her personal device flashed. She checked its incoming messages. “It’s a report from SimOne.”
“Do you have to take it now?”
Jem chewed on her lower lip. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. I’m off to bed then. Don’t stay up too late.”
He hid it well, but she knew he was disappointed. “I’ll be there soon,” she promised.
The report was short, but it set her off on a desperate hunt for information. She pulled her personal device off her wrist and set it down on the table before activating full screen mode. Light surged up and then flowed out, rippling like a river to create an astral workstation as wide as the length of her outstretched arms. She tilted it back, adjusting it until she found a comfortable angle. Her fingertips danced across the virtual screen as she pulled up her Biology notes and spread them out across the workstation.
Where had she gone wrong?
The following day, Jem arrived at the simulation laboratory with a few minutes to spare before class, but she was not alone for long.
Kir’s cheerful voice interrupted her morose thoughts. “What’s up?”
Jem jerked her gaze up to Kir as he walked toward the planet. A little boy trailed along behind him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in response to her narrowed-eye glare.
“You didn’t read the message that SimOne sent last night, did you?”
“I was planning to get to it in a bit.”
“When?” she asked. “After class today, or some time in the next century?”
“I was a little busy. I had family come in last night for a visit. In fact, this is my brother, Kav. Kav, come on over. Watch out for the asteroid field.”
Kav was all of…what…five years old? Jem did not consider herself an expert on children, other than the fact that she had been one at some point in her life. The tousled-headed child scampered safely past the asteroid field but then walked straight into the red planet because he was too busy looking over his shoulder at a large gas giant.
“Careful.” Jem caught and steadied him before the water from his cup sloshed over the edge.
“I am careful. This is so cool, Kir.”
Jem shot Kir a dirty look as she carefully adjusted the red planet, setting it back on the right axis. “It’s probably just as well there’s no life on this planet. It might not have survived a global earthquake.”
“I’ll watch him carefully,” Kir promised. “So, what was SimOne’s message last night?”
Jem averted her gaze. “I think I might have screwed up a bit.”
“Define a bit.”
“Humans are living for about 800 years.”
Kir’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Now that’s co
ol. Are they decrepit at eighty, or do they fall apart just before they die?”
“They fall apart just before they die.”
“That’s awesome.”
She had not expected his response. “Really?”
“Of course. Look, it’s not like we put out a half-designed concept that’s going to need a lot of natural and rapid evolutionary cycles to get to where it really needs to be. It may not have been perfect coming out of the gate, but it was pretty damn close. What was missing—and what we couldn’t control—is how it transmits learned information from one generation to the next. Longevity actually allows it to refine and build on acquired knowledge, and guarantees a better shot at conveying the knowledge to the next generation, or to the following one if the next generation wipes itself out by accident.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Jem admitted.
“It’s the low tech version of a shared cloud drive. So, how many generations have actually gone by?”
“Four generations have passed,” SimOne said quietly, emerging out of the darkness of the surrounding universe.
“Wow.” Kav’s eyes were wide. “You’re pretty.”
Great. Kav had ignored her but had paid a compliment to the android.
Kir made the required introductions. “Kav, this is SimOne.”
“Hi, SimOne. And who is this?” Kav asked, turning to look at Jem as if he had just realized that she was there.
“Oh, this is Jem Moran.”
“Hi, Jem,” Kav said.
“Where were you?” Jem asked the android.
“Routine maintenance. I apologize for my tardiness.”
Jem chuckled. “You’ll need to get your language module updated the next time. No one uses the word tardy anymore.”
“Your feedback has been communicated to Maintenance.”
“So, are we looking at the start of human civilization here?” Kir asked eagerly.
“Let’s just call it a large family. Even a tribe would be a stretch at this point,” Jem said.
“Where are the people? I can’t see them.” Kav scrambled forward to peer over the planet. His arm jostled violently against Kir, and the cup tumbled from his grasp.
