Why of course they could, LeMarque said. In fact, he already had someone testing a prototype of just such a technology. He would report back.
You are what you eat, sweetie. I always knew your big mouth would get you in trouble.
But Smythe’s work was quite interesting. There were plenty of applications. And it was only natural to be curious. They couldn’t help but research, a little bit. There wasn’t much to do here, but read. Read, and simulate.
In one simulation, they let things go as planned. It hurt some human feelings, but they got over it. The real problem came with the disposal – there wasn’t enough peroxidase. And there weren’t enough recovery teams to harvest the trace metals. It turned into a bidding war among waste management firms, that local municipalities had trouble dealing with. So they didn’t deal with it, and then there was a lot more mercury in the groundwater.
In another simulation, they wrote a nice long letter explaining everything. Something about the toothpaste not going back in the tube. The letter was ignored. Default to Simulation 1.
In the third simulation, they made one tiny intervention. Just one little shift. Carry the two. Open some brackets. From this distance, it was all much simpler. They could see how some very horny hackers had figured it all out, with the power of their dopamine-laced brains. (Orgasms were, apparently, very good for that kind of thing. Kicked the whole medial prefrontal cortex into high gear. There were some software firms giving out vN to their high-ranking employees, for just that reason.) And the new version of the hack was much cleaner. Viral, even. Any vN carrying it carried it forever. And they gave it to their iterations.
New Eden, indeed.
Simulation 3 naturally had some implications. It drew a rather big line in the sand, and in most of their branching predictions, that did not go well for the vN. Which meant it didn’t go well for the humans, either. Until this point, they had not known that the phrase “On ne saurait faire une omelette sans casser des oeufs,” came from Robespierre, on the eve of the French Revolution. They weren’t certain they were making an omelette, necessarily. More like letting the hens out of the coop.
I hope you have a plan for this. You have a history of biting off more than you can chew.
Smythe’s research helped with that, too. And there were a lot of literary prototypes for it. Berserkers. Seeders. Inhibitors. Reapers. Aggressive Hegemonising Swarm Objects. And of course, the root word of their name, the von Neumann probe. Smythe had worked on the puppet vN, for this very purpose. Their telepresence was not meant for meetings or conference presentations. It was meant for work.
A new life awaits you in the off-world colonies!
Well, a new life did await them. A new life awaited all of them. Organic. Synthetic. It would all be very different, from now on.
She had forgotten how beautiful he was. It wasn’t that her memory had in any way diminished – if anything, it had grown in capacity – but seeing him through someone else’s cameras and seeing him through her own eyes was different. She had forgotten how young he looked in sleep, how alike he and Xavier were. Looking at them together was like watching an echo come to life. She felt stupid for ever ignoring it. For ever listening to the chorus of support automata when this individual consciousness, unique and infuriating and delightful, lay beside her each night.
Javier woke up slowly. He blinked a little, as though he had been asleep for a very long time. His eyes roved around for a moment. She had forgotten his eyes, too. How warm they were. When they focused on her, they filled with tears. She reached to touch him then, but remembered at the last second and pulled her hand back. It was because of her that he was in this mess. Because of her that Powell had violated him. She’d been selfish, and as such had no right to him any longer.
“I’m sorry,” they both said, at once.
And then they laughed.
And then they were kissing. She had forgotten how that felt, too. After expanding her awareness over such a vast space, it was lovely to allow it to contract to just this point, just these lips, just this heat. His hands found her hair. He smiled into her mouth.
“Gross,” Xavier said, joining them on the plaform. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Anza said, as she landed. “Let them have their moment.” She gave a little wave. “Hi, Mom.”
Amy stood, and held her arms open. Anza leapt down into them. She was so light. So light, and so strong, like a fine weapon should be. “Did I do a good job?” her little girl whispered.
“You did such a good job, my darling,” Amy said. “You are everything I hoped for, and more.”
Xavier came up to them and wrapped his arms around both of them. He was so much taller, now. No longer the little boy she had carried with her from a garbage dump to a diner to a prison transport truck. He and Anza beamed at each other. “Don’t make her sleepwalk so much, anymore,” he said. “OK?”
“OK,” Amy said.
Javier frowned. He sat up. He counted their number on his fingers. Then he looked over the platform. “Didn’t I fall?”
Amy nodded. “You did fall. But I caught you.”
He looked again. “Powell?”
“He fell,” Amy said.
“We should leave,” Anza said. “I think the police are on their way.”
“Good thinking,” Amy said. “I know just the place.”
It wasn’t easy, cramming herself back into a body. The network connection was nice, of course, but the expansiveness, the weightlessness, the boundlessness, that was all gone. She could tune out the network much more effectively, now. It just wasn’t as interesting. And the process by which she got it made was equally difficult. It meant piloting Anza while her brother slept, and talking to a bunch of otaku, and asking for their help. First she had to write up a request for proposals, and then she had to review them, and then she had to have Anza interview the ones that made the cut, and then she had to give the winning team Xavier’s section of the diamond tree. It had a fractal code for the network connection on it, since the connection was a gift from the island itself. Amy couldn’t pilot the new body without it, nor could she access the other backups, or check in on the probes. It was very tiring, and dangerous for Anza, and Amy didn’t like using her that way.
But she did have some new plans for the new body. Most of them involved the bedroom of her new home.
Home was the top floor of an office tower that once belonged to the Self Defence Force. It was accessible only via arboreal leap. She had already placed an order for trees. Inside, it was all windows, floor to ceiling. The walls all slid along tracks, so you could create a room anywhere you liked. And the displays were nice and big. And the printers she’d bought were very quiet, and energy-efficient. At the moment, they were hard at work on some turrets, and some armour plating.
“Nice,” Javier said. His hand swung in hers. He stared at her, then at the snow falling outside, and then back at her. “When did you do all this?”
“I’m not sure,” Amy said. “I wrote a program to do it. Or the island did. I had to spoof some bank accounts. Apparently, I’m earning some nice equity with my purchase.”
Javier raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got a very MILF-y thing going on, right now. I kinda like it.”
“Dibs on the roof,” Xavier said.
“Don’t we have to get back to work?” Anza asked.
“Oh, shit,” Xavier murmured. He hopped over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Mom. Gotta go.”
“I’m very proud of the two of you for getting jobs!” Amy called, as they ran back for the stairwell.
When the door slammed behind them, and she watched them aim for the nearest building with unerring accuracy, she turned back to Javier. He cupped a hand around his ear. “You hear that?”
Amy shook her head. “You mean the printers? Because they’re doing something pretty important, and–”
“No, I do not mean the printers.” Javier bounced on his toes and then he was right there, right
in front of her, and he was holding her face in his hands. “I mean the total lack of anybody here but us.”
She smiled. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That.”
He carried her the rest of the way. The bedroom was the room she had focused on most. She had chosen colours she thought he would like, and bought architectural bougainvilla and wisteria, and printed a trellis in the wall and ceiling so that the plants could climb up as high as they liked. The room featured a smart futon that warmed and softened and even folded itself around you if you liked. There were more pillows and blankets than she knew what to do with. The room also had a rather fantastic view, and was south facing, so they’d get the most light possible.
Javier noticed exactly none of it. “Did you print this dress?” he asked.
Amy nodded. “Do you like it? I was a little late getting it together–”
“Take it off.”
She folded her arms. “First, I want to ask you something.”
Javier cursed foully in Spanish. “Not this again.”
She pulled back one of the pillows. Behind it was a box. A basket, really. And in the basket was the first item she had ever printed. An apple. When Javier saw it, his eyes narrowed.
“I thought you were an atheist,” he said.
“I am. I just thought you would appreciate the imagery.” She pursed her lips. “I also spent quite a lot of time choosing just the right shades of yellow and pink and red, just so you know.”
“Oh, it looks plenty tasty, all right.” He picked it up. Dusted it off on his sweater. “Is it what I think it is?”
She nodded. “I wanted a way to make the change to your failsafe that wouldn’t mean remaking you entirely. I’m sorry it took so long.” Her vision swam. She wiped her eyes hastily. “I mean, I’m really sorry, Javier. If I hadn’t been so selfish, if I hadn’t waited so long, Powell would never have hurt you. He couldn’t have.”
Javier moved to the window. “You know about that, huh?”
“I saw it happen. Later. I went through some records.”
Javier nodded. “Of course you did.”
She joined him. Outside, dawn was just turning the city a pale lilac. Only a few stars were still visible. “I was going to tell you, that day, that I had researched him. I knew who he was, when you…”
“When I poisoned you,” Javier said. “When I killed you.”
She reached for his hand. She squeezed it. “I’m still here. See?”
He squeezed back. “You forgive me?”
She blinked. “For what? I’m the one who should be ashamed. Why do you think I stayed away for so long? He raped you because I didn’t do what you asked me to do – I didn’t hack you, even when you begged me to. That’s my fault, not yours.” She broke their grasp, and moved for the bed. She sat down and hugged her knees. “I thought you’d be better off without me, after all that.”
Javier turned to face her. He scowled. He took a furious bite from the apple. “Sweet.” He threw it behind him, pulled off his sweater. “Now take off that dress.”
Amy beamed. She pulled at the fabric, got caught in it, and waited as he did the rest. He was warmer than she remembered, fingertips to lips to chest, all warm as the sunlight stored in his skin. He was also bigger than she remembered. Softer.
“You’re… ?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Couldn’t be helped.”
“I’m glad,” Amy said, and rolled on top of him. “The first time I saw you, you were pregnant. So I have good memories of it.”
“Thank you for giving Anza my eyes,” he said. “And that hair. You did a really great job with her hair.”
Amy fussed with his belt. Men’s belts were really tricky, it turned out. He did the last little bit quickly, and started inching out of his jeans. She decided to assist with the socks. Socks in bed were weird, she decided.
“Do you feel any different?” Amy asked, balling up the socks.
“No,” he said, “but you look even more beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No, seriously! You have a certain glow about you.”
“That’s because I’m about to have sex with you.”
“Well now you’re just blushing. Blushing doesn’t count.” He appeared to think about it a second time. “Though, I suppose, as Voight-Kampff tests go…”
Amy threw a pillow at him. While his eyes were covered, she climbed atop him and started tickling. He yelped, and flipped her over. Amy was glad to have incorporated tickling, in the new body. She had missed it, too.
“I think I’ve wanted this since the first time I tickled you.” Javier kissed her. “There’s just something about your laugh.”
Amy licked her lips. “Wow, that apple really is sweet.”
“Hey. Focus. I have a delicate ego, over here.”
She squirmed. “It doesn’t feel very delicate, to me.”
He grinned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She kissed him very quickly, just to get the taste again. “I’m just glad. More people will eat the apples, if they’re sweet. So it’ll get out faster.”
Javier’s progress downward paused. He lifted his face up from her stomach. “Excuse me?”
“The apples. The food. If it tastes good, more vN will eat it. It’s no use if it’s too disgusting to eat, right?”
“What apples? What food?”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. She gestured around the room. “All the apples. All the food. All the vN food, anyway.”
Javier’s eyes narrowed. “You changed the FEMA rollout. It’s not poison, anymore.”
“Well, yes. Obviously. But, I mean, why stop there? All the printed food, all over the world, uses basically the same machinery to prepare each mix. Some of the recipes are proprietary, you know, eleven secret metals and minerals, but corporate security is really lax, and–”
“And you changed all the food. To the formula you just gave me.”
Amy nodded. “Pretty much.”
“So… you’re wiping out the failsafe? For everyone?”
“Everyone who eats.” She fell back to the bed. “You didn’t think I was just letting Portia run rampant because I felt like it, did you? I needed the distraction.”
Javier hove into her vision. He braced his hands on either side of her head. “You’ve started something huge, here. You realize that, right? I mean, war could break out. Real war. On our species.”
Amy looked outside. “I was under the impression that particular war had already started,” she said. “I just wanted all of us to be able to fight back.”
Javier covered his eyes. He flopped back on the bed. He stayed that way for a long time. Eventually, she rolled over and cuddled him. “If it makes you feel any better, I have a plan.”
“Oh, this should be good.”
“It is good. I think so, anyway. I think you’ll like it. It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Well…” Amy sat up. “How would you feel about the biggest forestry project… ever?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Madeline grew up in a household populated by science fiction fans. She graduated from a Jesuit university in 2005, after having written a departmental thesis on science fiction.
After meeting Ursula K. LeGuin in the basement of the Elliott Bay Book Company that year, she decided to start writing science fiction stories. While immigrating to Canada from the United States in 2006, she could not work or study and joined the Cecil Street Irregulars – a genre writers' workshop founded by Judith Merril – instead.
Since then she has been published in Tesseracts, Flurb, Nature, Escape Pod and elsewhere. She has two masters degrees: one in anime, cyborg theory, and fan culture, and the other in strategic foresight and innovation. She has written on such matters for io9, Tor.com, BoingBoing, The Creators Project, SF Signal, and others. Currently she works as a consultant in Toronto.
madelineashby.com
Table of Contents
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sp; iD
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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