We Are Legion (We Are Bob) (Bobiverse Book 1)

by Dennis E. Taylor

  ***

  I slid smoothly into orbit around Epsilon Eridani One. The innermost planet was slightly larger than Mars, and orbited at about .35 AU.

  Solar radiation at this distance from the sun created a significant heating issue. I kept an eye on my temperature readings. A biological crew would find this trip uncomfortable.

  As planets went, this was no prize winner, but it was the first extra-solar planet I’d ever seen. I would never have this particular experience again. I took a few moments to savor the excitement and wonder.

  A dozen orbits of EE-1 were sufficient for my survey. Tidally locked, no atmosphere, not even remotely livable. The planet looked a lot like pictures I’d seen of Mercury. Hellish hot, pools of what might be liquid lead, deep chasms in the surface from which came the deep red glow of hot magma. Gravimetric readings indicated a surprisingly high density, probably due to a large core. Good indications of mineral wealth, so this planet would be interesting to any colonists.

  With a satisfied smile, I stored my report for eventual forwarding to Earth. Hopefully there was still someone there to receive it…

  ***

  I studied the hologram above my desk. EE-2 orbited at 0.85 AU and seemed to be livable. Barely. The Epsilon Eridani system was estimated to be around a billion years old, which set the upper limit for the age of the planet around which I currently orbited. EE-2 was about 90% the size of Earth but had much less ocean. At about 30% of the surface area, the bodies of water on EE-2 were isolated from each other. Rather than continents surrounded by oceans, this planet consisted of seas surrounded by land.

  I wondered idly if that would mean independent evolutionary lines in each sea. I gritted my teeth, because I had no way to find out. No allowance had been made in the mission design for sending anything down to investigate the planets themselves. This was definitely a mission planning shortfall, probably due to the rush to launch first.

  “Guppy, make a note. I need to design exploration scouts.”

  [Noted. However, replication is a higher priority]

  “As you’ve mentioned, how many times, now?”

  [14]

  “Thanks.” Guppy seemed to have a one-track mind regarding mission parameters. I half-expected him to start vibrating like an irate Chihuahua.

  Anyway, Epsilon Eridani 2…

  The atmosphere contained about 3% oxygen, which implied that photosynthetic life had evolved in the seas, at least. Unless it was due to some natural process. There was no indication of any life having left the water yet—no green anywhere, just bare rock. Some snow and ice at the poles, frost in the mornings all the way to the equator. Paradoxically, it looked more bleak and inhospitable than EE-1, possibly because it was almost habitable. People could probably live on this planet, with enough technological assistance. Like domes. It had a significant atmosphere, and it had water, which put it head-and-shoulders above Mars, anyway.

  EE-2 had a small moon, about 500 km in diameter, close enough to the planet to raise tides, if there had been oceans instead of landlocked seas.

  I completed my survey, feeling a sense of frustration that I couldn’t examine the planet close up. I might have just discovered the existence of life outside the solar system. Or not. This sucked.

  ***

  I set up an orbit at a considerable distance around EE-3. The planet was about 30% bigger than Jupiter, and although it didn’t have rings like Saturn, it did have an extensive and very cluttered planetary neighborhood. I had already identified 67 moons, 20 of which were large enough to have atmospheres. Three of them would qualify as planets in their own right. There were any number of smaller rocks and a thin ring of ice gravel.

  Other than the size, EE-3 was boringly Jupiter-like, but with fewer surface storms. It had a slightly larger orbit than Jupiter, which, combined with the sun’s lower luminosity, meant that EE-3 would receive significantly less solar radiation. Too bad. None of those moons would have a snowball’s chance in hell of being livable.

  I made my notes, feeling Guppy’s eyes boring into the back of my head, and prepared to continue on to EE-4.

  ***

  The fourth planet of the system was only mildly interesting. It would seem I was already getting blasé after one system and four planets. Great attention span, Bob.

  This far out from the sun, weather patterns were smooth and laminar, resulting almost entirely from the planet’s rotation. Solar heating was a negligible factor. The planet had more than its share of moons, but most of them were just hunks of rock, not even big enough to be spherical.

  ***

  I leaned back in my chair, fingers tented, staring at nothing. I’d flown back to the scene of my recent battle and parked near my former construction site. I had some thinking to do about my future.

  I found myself wrapped in a vague sense of disappointment. No ringed planets, no double planets, no alien civilization—hell, no life at all that I could see. Not even a particularly good colonization target. Assuming anyone back on Earth was still alive to care. The next system might be better. Or it might be even more barren. And either way, so what? Was this what I wanted, to wander the galaxy like some kind of Flying Dutchman?

  The issue with exploration drones, at least, would be easy to fix. The design of the mining drone could be easily adapted for other purposes—the ship-busters were a good example—and the libraries had lots of information on various kinds of environmental sensors. With the 3D printers, I had virtually unlimited flexibility.

  And speaking of building things… I glanced over at Guppy. Yep. Still glaring. If I hadn’t done all that code cleanup, the mission imperatives would be exerting their influence and I would have already started building the space station and Bob clones. But with those removed, I was an unconstrained entity, with free will. And apparently, some kind of anxiety about cloning myself.

  It was time to put up or shut up. I had no more delaying tactics up my sleeve. I could fly off into the sunset, I could sit here with my thumb up my… uh… paralyzed by indecision, or I could get with the program.

  I looked over at Guppy again. I knew what he wanted, of course. He continued to glare back at me, fishy impatience written all over his face. His operating system was in firmware, so in order to cure him of his obsession, I’d have to build a whole new core. Which meant a new ship. Which brought us back full circle to my immediate problem.

  So what the hell was the issue? As near as I could tell, I was concerned about what cloning myself would say about my uniqueness as an individual and the existence of some kind of soul. Which, for a humanist, was a shocking admission.

  And what if I didn’t like myself? What if it turned out I was a jerk? That would be hard to live down.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyelids with the tips of my fingers. This was pointless. I knew, logically, that sooner or later I’d have to go ahead with it. Delaying and kvetching was just stressing me out more.

  “Okay, Guppy. Deploy manufacturing systems. Let’s get the party started.”

  Guppy couldn’t smile, thank God. That sight would probably scare me out of a year’s growth. But he did stand up straighter, and he went immediately into his command fugue. I felt the ship shudder as drones started launching. Within minutes, I was at the center of an expanding sphere of robotic servants with one mission—build more Bobs.

  Bob – July 2145 – Epsilon Eridani

  And that’s the idea behind panspermia. I’ve been asked many times why panspermia isn’t just another layer of turtles. People have commented that moving the creation of the basic building blocks of life from Earth to space just adds a step and doesn’t make their creation any easier to explain. Yet in fact, it does. We’ve detected the basic building blocks of RNA and DNA in space. Conditions are ideal. The raw materials are there, the energy is there, and the components can come together through simple Brownian motion without requiring a solvent.

  … Dr. Steven Carlisle, from the Convention panel Exploring the Galaxy

  I
leaned back in my La-Z-Boy, enjoying the moment. The fire crackled and popped in a very realistic manner. Spike had abandoned me to curl up on the bear skin rug in front of the fireplace. Books lined the shelves, floor to ceiling, and I even had a wheeled ladder to reach the upper levels.

  I cradled a coffee in my hands as I examined the hologram floating in front of me. The image depicted a cubic kilometer of space, located on the inside edge of the inner asteroid belt and centered on the Heaven-1.

  The area was a beehive of activity. Five version-2 HEAVEN vessels were under construction, one of which was a trade-up for me. The new designs included a bigger reactor and drive, a rail-gun, storage and launch facilities for busters, replicant systems with twice the capacity of version one, more room for storing roamers and mining drones, and more cargo capacity in general.

  The manufacturing systems cranked out parts as fast as the roamers could feed in the raw ore. Other roamers gathered the parts and assembled the ships. Two large reactors supplied power for all the equipment. A couple of smaller printer operations cranked out more roamers and the components for more ship-busters. I had considered using explosive warheads, but I had an aversion to anything that included the word “explosive.”

  I looked over at the corner of the holoview where the space station was shown. Part of the mission instructions included a directive to build an automated station with powerful interstellar communications capability in every system I visited. Its first task would be to send an encrypted status report back to Earth, and all the planetary surveys that I’d just completed. After that, depending on whether or not the system was a viable colonization target, it would act as a beacon and communications relay for me and any incoming colonists from Earth, and later as an in-system communications hub. It would be ‘staffed’ with an AMI and would have its own limited manufacturing capability.

  Mind you, all that presupposed that Earth still harbored a technological civilization. Sooner or later, one of me was going to have to go back and check it out.

  So far, I hadn’t picked up any radio transmissions from Sol directed at me. But realistically, I didn’t expect any. The point of the HEAVEN project was for information to flow from me to them. There would be no conversations, certainly not with a 10.5-year wait, each way.

  I glanced over at Guppy, who hadn’t moved since the last time I had asked a question. Definitely not a sparkling conversationalist. So back to my earlier question. I’m giving version-2 Guppy enough memory space to potentially develop a personality matrix. Am I asking for trouble?

  “Status on my favorite subjects?”

  Guppy blinked once.

  [HEAVEN 2 through 5: 90% complete. 5 days to completion]

  [Replicant matrices for HEAVEN 2 through 5: Two are complete, two are thirty hours from completion]

  [Heaven-1A: Undergoing final tests. Pass/fail decision within 24 hours]

  [Relay station: 40% complete. Two months to completion]

  “Okay, good. In three days, we can activate the other me’s. They’ll have complete ability to control the work in the yard, right?”

  [Replicant matrices have complete GUPPI systems built in]

  In a couple more days, I’ll have to start thinking of myself as Bob-1. I looked at the bulbous nose of Heaven-1A. Painted on the side, in pigments embedded right into the composite carbon-lattice shell, was a picture of a Brazilian probe with a big red X through it. This would be my new ship. The other Bobs would be free to decorate their vessels as they saw fit.

  As that thought went through my mind, I once again felt a jolt of anxiety. Creating more HEAVEN vessels was part of the mission profile, but the process of creating new Bobs would reignite that whole internal debate about who or what I was. I would load backups of myself into the new vessels. Would they be me, or would they be someone else?

  There would have to be rules. Some standards, so that things wouldn’t descend into chaos. First, each copy would have to come up with a new first name, to emphasize the fact that they were not me. Second, the most senior Bob in any system would be in charge. I stared into space for a few milliseconds, trying to think of any more items. Nothing came to mind.

  I nodded to myself, then started the backup process.

  ***

  I snapped back to full consciousness. The backup process, as always, felt like the closest thing to sleep that I had experienced since being reborn in the 22nd century. I activated my VR out of habit before getting on with the day’s business. But instead of my rich, detailed library, I found myself in a blue room. With no window. And a hard, indeterminate floor.

  Uh oh. I queried my serial number.

  [HIC16537-1]

  Built in Epsilon Eridani. The Hipparcos Catalog number made that clear. I’m a copy of a copy. Crap.

  It felt like New Handeltown all over again. Once again, I was waking up to find I wasn’t who I thought. I tried to console myself by noting that I was still a replicant, just a different one. It didn’t help as much as it should have.

  Well, there was no point in sitting around getting all bent out of shape.

  “Guppy?”

  [GUPPI Ready]

  “Page Bob-1, please.” I expected this conversation to be a little surreal.

  [Bob-1 online]

  “Hey there, this is Bob-1, otherwise known as Bob.”

  I took a moment to savor the unexpected feeling of joy from hearing another human voice. Even if it was, technically, mine.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” I replied. “I’ll decide on my new name forthwith. Are the others up yet?”

  “No, I want to bring you guys online one at a time. They’ll be coming up over the next hour. Meanwhile, will you be okay to take over manufacturing oversight? I need to put on my new body. The sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can get on with things.”

  I reflexively tried to glance at Guppy, but I hadn’t set up my own VR yet. “No prob. Let me just confirm with Guppy, er, GUPPI, then we’ll handshake over control to me.”

  “Thanks, Two. See you in the funny papers.”

  ***

  I snapped back to full consciousness. I queried my serial number.

  [SOL-1]

  “Guppy?”

  [Transfer of replicant hardware to your new ship is complete. You are now Heaven-1A]

  “Wooh! Good.” I couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to wake up and discover that I wasn’t Bob any more. Probably a little surreal.

  I activated my VR and found myself in my La-Z-Boy, with Spike in my lap, and Jeeves holding out a coffee.

  “Ah, home… Guppy, everyone okay and up to speed?”

  [Heaven-2 is monitoring the manufacturing systems. Heaven 3 through 5 are preparing for a shakedown cruise. They waited to be sure that your transfer was successful]

  “I appreciate that. Message them that they can take off whenever they want, and to get lots of pictures.”

  ***

  [There is a problem]

  “Huh? Whazzup?”

  [Heaven-3 reports an issue with SUDDAR. Emitter flaws are resulting in a much weaker ping]

  “Crap. Put us on conference.”

  There was a momentary delay, before the other Bobs came online.

  “Bob-3 here. Call me Bill.”

  “Bob-4 here.”

  “Hi guys. Uh, Bill? Really?”

  “As in Bill D. Cat.”

  “That makes sense. We always liked Bill the Cat.”

  Bob-4 chimed in, “Okay, call me Milo for now. Not my first choice, but we’ve got other fish to fry.”

  “Watch it buddy, Guppy is listening.”

  Milo and Bill laughed, and I continued, “So, Bill, what’s the issue?”

  “Erm, looks like the emitter is defective. The SUDDAR ping I’m sending out is about 20% of what it should be.”

  “That’s no good. You won’t be able to see fifty feet.” I thought for a moment. “Guppy, get Bob-2 on the phone.”

  “I’m already on.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, good. Two, could you hand off manufacturing to Bill? He can take over supervision while his emitter gets replaced.”

  “No prob.”

  With a jerk, I looked around. “Where’s Bob-5?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Oh, uh, you couldn’t talk before?”

  “Didn’t have anything to say.”

  Okay. Not a talker, I guess.

  “Got a name?”

  “Mario.”

  Definitely not a talker. Interesting. Five milliseconds in, and we already sounded different.

  “Guys, I guess we need to talk about what each of us is going to do from here. So, let’s start things rolling. Two, you got any preferences?”

  “Call me Riker,” Bob-2 said.

  “Riker? Oh, number two.” The First Officer of the Enterprise had been referred to as Number One on the show. It had taken me perhaps five seconds to start calling him number two. Hey, I’ve already said I’m not mature.

  Bill said, “I guess telling jokes will become a lost art, unless we can find someone who doesn’t know our material.”

  Guppy shook his head in disgust.

  As we’d been talking, video windows for the other Bobs had popped into my VR, floated in the air above my desk. Each had chosen a different VR environment, visible in the background. Four copies of my face gazed back at me.

  Riker, wearing a red uniform, appeared to be sitting on the bridge of a spaceship. I spared a moment to be thankful he’d skipped the beard, then I rolled my eyes at him. “Because that wasn’t predictable or anything.”

  Riker shrugged, not cracking so much as a smile. “I had to have something. Might as well be this, then I can stop worrying about it.” He leaned forward on the arm of the captain’s chair and gestured at the hologram of EE-2 that I had put up. “The planet’s not really move-in-ready. I’m not sure if Earth will bother sending a colony ship here, unless there are no other alternatives.”