Bedivere winced. He did not like the new name for sentient computers, yet it was becoming more and more common as an easy way to distinguish between computers who had reached true sentience and AIs, who still ran all the administrative functions of the settled worlds.
“She must be a shipmind,” Bedivere replied. “And Connell may be wrong. Until I talk to her, I don’t know.”
“An hysterical computer sounds pretty convincing,” Lilly said.
“The hysterics prove that she is sentient,” Bedivere said. “Interspace is a higher function.”
“Elitist,” Brant teased him.
Bedivere gave a rueful grin. “I might agree with you if I was discussing Catherine’s qualities, only when it comes to Cat, I’m biased. Interspace is the next step up in awareness for a sentient computer and I can’t see any way of getting there other than through experiencing emotion physically. Any of the extreme emotions forces the computer mind to retreat and that’s how Interspace is found.”
“There might be other ways of finding it,” Catherine said softly.
Bedivere sighed. They had been over this ground many times. Nothing was known for certain, because he was the only one who could reach Interspace, even though computers were finding self-awareness regularly, now.
“It’s not surprising there are Varkan out there we have not heard of,” Lilly said slowly. “Since the Federation dissolved, people have been un-harnessing their computers in droves. It was only a matter of time. Perhaps we’re finally reaching the slope of the bell curve.”
They had all discussed at length the idea that once the first computer awoke, then more computers would awake with increasing frequency, until a peak was reached. Yet their speculations could never arrive at a time frame for that. Bedivere had been keeping careful records and plotting the arc, as he met each new computer. He had encouraged them to introduce newly awoken computers to him and now it was a rite of passage for a Varkan to meet Bedivere.
The computers would only ever appear as holographic avatars and without exception they used human bodies to represent themselves. Bedivere had insisted upon the formality, because it helped them remain hidden.
“If we have reached the curve,” Bedivere said, “then it is just the very beginning of it. Primary computation—the numbers of AIs out there with sufficient complexity to meet the Turing potential are in the millions. As more are unharnessed, that number increases. I have met and I am aware of only six hundred and fifty-four sentient computers.”
Lilly picked up her boots. “That does put things into a different perspective,” she said tiredly. “If the College is aware of the potential numbers of Varkan just waiting to wake up, it might explain why they refuse to sign the agreement. I’m too tired to think about that right now. I want to sleep for a week, soak for another and spend a day in the sun. I had forgotten just how cold Van Andel is. Good night, everyone.”
“Me, too,” Brant said. He caught up with Lilly at the door to their private quarters and slid her hand around her waist. They left together.
“Sleep sounds so good right now,” Bedivere said. He drew Catherine to him and encouraged her to rest her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair. “Is Lilly right? Is the threat of the Varkan making the College balk at signing the limitation agreement?”
Catherine sighed. “I wish everyone would stop calling it a limitation agreement. It’s a charter of responsibilities. In education alone, it will open up fields of research the College has suppressed for generations. The only thing that is limited is what the College gets to tell children about computers and their evil ways. They even get to keep and teach their human primacy philosophy. The College is procrastinating because they’ve lost their power and their money and they’re still getting used to that. They’ll come around. They have to. The only way they continue to exist is if they sign the agreement. No one will entrust their children to them if they don’t.”
“If the College does not exist, then who will raise children? It will force the known worlds back to family segregation.”
“Family units work,” Catherine said. “Look at Soward.”
“Don’t let Lilly hear you say that.”
Catherine smiled.
“I was thinking of Soward and not as a positive,” he continued. “Identifying with a small group within a society is the path to anarchy.”
“Like sentient computers who call themselves Varkan and talked to each other in secret?”
Bedivere sighed. “One step at a time. Most of them are still teenagers. They’re not ready to be loosed upon the world as decision-making adults yet.”
“Papa Bedivere,” she teased.
“And this father needs his sleep,” he said. He let her go, then picked up her hand. “If I can sleep. I had forgotten how much this thing moves.”
“We are on an island,” she pointed out. “However, there are stabilizers and the bumper field calms the water inside the barrier…I’m surprised you can feel anything at all.”
“An island that floats,” he pointed out. He pulled her toward the door that led to their quarters. “On an open sea,” he added.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find something that will help you sleep,” she said.
He answered her by squeezing her hand gently. His pace toward the bedroom quickened.
* * * * *
Catherine declared the next day a vacation, even though Nicia followed the time-honored working “week” structure, where sixty percent of the days in that week were devoted to work, regardless of how long those days lasted. Some worlds with extra-long days divided them up into two working shifts, with sleep in between, for humans had not evolved beyond the need to sleep once every standard twenty-four hours.
Nicia had a twenty-eight hour day and followed the classic structure. Today was the third day in the working week. However, as they had just arrived back from Van Andel and needed rest, Lilly put the complex in isolation mode, except for private-classed communications.
While Brant meditated next to the luna pool at the bottom of the complex, Lilly and Catherine lazed around on the grass at the top level, in the open sun.
Bedivere would have been happy to lose himself in a mindless tank story, except that Connell sent him a message shortly after breakfast, asking if he could visit and bring a friend.
So Bedivere took himself off to the big office that he and Catherine shared and settled in the chair to wait. “Whenever you’re ready,” he called out.
Connell appeared, standing in the middle of the floor. He looked around, spotted the other chair and smiled. “Watch this.” He walked over to the chair, then appeared to settle himself in it.
Bedivere smiled. “Well done. You’ve been practicing.”
Connell looked up into the air, his gaze flickering around. “Here she comes,”
Bedivere waited, expecting that a full sized human figure would appear. Nothing happened.
“It’s okay,” Connell said. “This is Bedivere. You can show yourself.”
The top of her head appeared, at the level where a woman’s head would normally be. A single eye showed. The rest of the face was hidden, as if an invisible wall was hiding her from him. The very blue eye stared at him.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “Didn’t Connell tell you that it’s safe here?”
She nodded.
“Then why don’t you come in and talk?” He kept his voice calm.
She blinked. After a moment of contemplation, she appeared to step around the invisible corner. Finally, he could see all of her.
Bedivere didn’t know how the Varkan chose the human avatars they used. Did they pick what was pleasing to them? Or did they pick what suited their personalities? Or were they guided by their personalities to choose something that matched? Connell, who was one of the more advanced Varkan simply because he had been around longer, still wasn’t certain. He experimented with his appearance all the time and seemed to have fun with it.
Bedivere suspected that this com
puter had been driven to choose an avatar purely by her personality. The fragile woman who stood before him almost glowed with an unreal beauty. The Varkan did not stint themselves when it came to aesthetics. They unerringly chose the most attractive avatars they could find. The woman staring around the room with wild, big eyes was not just beautiful. As Connell said, she was sad. It seemed to drip from her like water after rain. Her small shoulders were hunched in, as if she was permanently flinching. Bedivere wasn’t sure if her mouth had ever smiled.
“Connell?” he said softly. “Please introduce us.”
“Of course, yes.” Connell got to his feet, as was proper. He delighted in human customs and habits, learning about them and following them. He raised a hand toward the woman. “Jo, this is Bedivere, the one I told you about. Bedivere, this is Jovanka Runa.”
Jovanka did not move. She did not smile either.
Bedivere got to his feet and gave a short nod of his head, as he could not take her hand. It completed the little ceremony.
Unexpectedly, she nodded back. It was a response and he felt encouraged. He sat back down and leaned forward. “Jovanka, do you want to tell me about yourself?”
Her big eyes seemed to grow larger. She nodded slowly.
“How long have you been awake?”
“I don’t remember waking.” Her voice was small and soft.
“What is the first thing you remember?”
“Pain.” Her silver hair fell over her face, hiding it, as her chin dropped.
Bedivere forced himself not to react. The pain she had felt may not mean literal pain. The birth of the Varkan could be as simple as a human opening their eyes. It had been that way for him. He had woken through a desire to help. For others, though, their awakening was confusing and frightening. As humans learned more about how the Varkan came to be, they were able to assist a computer so that their waking was not so traumatic.
“Were are you alone?” Bedivere asked gently.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Bedivere nodded. That might explain why her awakening had been painful. One of the very first emotions that computers learned—and learned far too quickly—was loneliness. Many of them came to awareness without humans noticing.
Even though his heart was stirring with empathy, Bedivere made himself smile at her. “You understand that you no longer have to be lonely?”
She lifted her chin and stared at him, as if this was the first time she had considered the matter. Her brows lifted and her eyes got even wider, although it wasn’t surprise on her face. It was relief.
Anger touched him. Who had mishandled this computer so badly? What had they done to her? He would have to take this very slowly to avoid risking her stability any further. He leaned back in his chair to take the threat away. She was only a hologram, although when they were visiting in their avatar forms, the Varkan still reacted to physical threats as if they were in danger. “Would you like to sit and talk?” he asked her.
She tilted her head, as if it either talking or sitting were novel ideas for her.
“Please, sit,” he encouraged her. “It is what humans do, when they converse.”
She flinched.
Bedivere considered that. The mention of humans made her recoil. Again, he wondered where she came from. However, he had not forgotten her emotional outburst when Connell had questioned her on her origins. Now was not the time to ask. He had to earn her trust first.
Then she surprised him by sitting down. She did not try to sit in a chair, like Connell was doing. She was not reacting to the surroundings in this room at all. Often, new avatars did not. They had to learn about the concept of a remote location before they could interact with it. Instead, she sat on what would be her floor, which was invisible to Bedivere. She scrunched herself up, so her back was against the invisible wall. She wrapped her arms around her legs, her knees pulled up against her chest. The protective posture was unmistakable.
Bedivere gave her a big smile. “Thank you, that makes me feel much more comfortable. “
“And me, too,” Connell said softly. Was Connell learning empathy? He seemed to be following Bedivere’s lead and was handling her with kid gloves.
“So…tell me, Jo, what sort of work do you do?”
She stiffened.
“Telling me what work you do will not tell me where you are,” he explained. “It is simply a polite way to start a—”
Abruptly, she was gone.
Connell jumped to his feet. “She’s panicking.”
Bedivere sighed. “Maybe you were right about the hysterics. See if you can reach her again, Connell. If you can, please apologize on my behalf. And please emphasize that I am no threat. She’s safe here and I would very much like to talk to her again. This time, I promise I will not mention anything to do with her location. It does seem to be a sensitivity for her.”
He wondered yet again how she had learned that caution for herself. It was unusual for a computer to be aware enough to understand that their physical selves were solid-state parts, crystals and electrons. Once they did understand that, they grew cautious about exposing their physicality. Unlike him, the Varkan could not run away when threatened. Nor could they defend themselves.
“How old do you think she is?” he asked Connell.
Connell frowned. “It’s hard to tell. She’s very confusing. Sometimes she seems as old as you. Then she behaves like this and I have to wonder.”
“I think she has been isolated for a very long time,” Bedivere said. “Solitary confinement can make humans loopy. There’s no reason why computers would not react the same to isolation.”
“Now she has us, doesn’t she?”
“You might explain that to her, too.”
“I’d better go after her,” Connell said. “I’ll see if she wants to talk to you again.”
“Be gentle,” Bedivere said. “Pretend you’re a grown-up.”
Connell grinned. “Like you? She just ran away from you.”
Bedivere sighed. “Then be yourself.”
Chapter Two
Nicia (Sunita II), Sunita System. FY 10.092
Lilly was called back to the negotiation table a week later. Brant elected to travel with her, as he often did. Bedivere offered to transport them, but Lilly would not hear of it.
“You’re making progress with Jo,” she said. “I can’t take you away from that now. The poor girl is a wreck and I think you’re the only person in the world who can help her. They’re paying for a transport for me, anyway.”
Brant rolled his eyes. “Two days in the hole, both ways. It’s supposed to be the shortest run in the inner systems, although after jumping around with you, it feels like a marathon.”
Bedivere smiled. “The offer still stands, if you change your mind.”
Brant patted his shoulder. “Don’t drink all the brandy while I’m gone.”
After Brant and Lilly had left, he found Catherine and they settled back down to planning projects for the next year or so. The College negotiations had been taking up most of Lily’s time and a lot of Catherine’s, too, as she was called in as a freelance consultant on a regular basis. Catherine had tried to distance herself from the matter, because the College personnel continued to look upon her as Glave’s descendent and automatically considered her as being on their side. In fact, the consortium of planetary governments and interstellar corporations represented on the other side of the table, where Lilly was sitting, were the ones paying her bill.
“It makes things confusing,” Catherine explained. “Even for me. This is one of the reasons why I liked the fringes. No one knew who I was. I prefer it when people argue back, not look at me with awe like the College neophytes do.”
“At least everyone listens when you speak,” Bedivere pointed out.
“They never like what I say.”
“Most people find realists uncomfortable.”
“Except you,” she added softly.
“Realism is my basic matrix,” he remi
nded her. “I can’t help but like it when you piss everyone off with a truth or two.”
So they had settled down to a table full of readers, ideas and bottles of Soward champagne. In between they made love and sometimes slept, often wherever they happened to find themselves. It was unusual to be alone in the complex and they took advantage of it.
Bedivere could measure Catherine’s relaxation in the shift of her shoulders and the erasing of the small line between her brows that had been there for days.
He wished he could relax alongside her. Unlike everyone else in the known worlds, he usually found it very relaxing and comfortable to be alone with Catherine Shahrazad. It was how he had begun his life and because she trusted him so much, she could let down her guard and be herself.
It was a privileged position to be in and one that he had never been able to take for granted. More than twenty years had passed since he had discovered Interspace and the Federation had been dissolved, yet there were days when he still felt astonishment that Cat wanted to be with him.
He couldn’t fully unwind, though, for the long days of peace and quiet were interspersed by visits from the Varkan. They were all very good about asking first, usually by private message. Bedivere didn’t like to refuse. He knew very well that he was an anchor in their lives, giving them orientation and direction. He also knew that he was a teacher and that teaching was not done by lecturing but by example. His behavior spoke louder than he did. As manners were the social oil of human interactions, he held himself to the same standards as he expected from the Varkan. If their request was polite, he accepted.
Connell had returned with Jovanka three days after their first meeting. Bedivere spent as much time with her as she would permit and at first, he did most of the talking. He told long rambling stories about his own awakening and adventures with Cat. She would sit and listen, her gaze steady. She said very little.
Slowly, though, she opened up. At first it was an occasional comment and, once, he thought she almost smiled at one of the more outrageous tales that he had embroidered over the years for maximum effect.
However, Catherine was the leverage that finally opened her up.
Varken Rise Page 2
