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

by Dennis E. Taylor

  As one of the gorilloids made a break for the group, Arnold came out of nowhere and stuck a spear right through its back.

  And that right there is what spear points are good for. I let out a breath and relaxed.

  Too soon.

  Arnold tried to retrieve his spear, but dislodging it would take more time than he had available. With a roar, another gorilloid charged him. Arnold managed to throw himself at the gorilloid’s legs, which tripped up the animal and allowed Arnold to roll away. But the gorilloid was unharmed and already getting up.

  Arnold looked around, but there was nothing usable as a weapon within reach. As the gorilloid snarled and locked its gaze on Arnold, Archimedes yelled and tossed him the axe. Arnold caught it and swung it down onto the middle of the gorilloid’s head just as it came into range. There was a loud crack, and the gorilloid dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

  Arnold looked at the axe in his hand for a few moments.

  Slack-jawed amazement. Yep.

  Then, with a roar, he began to lay into gorilloids. Conan the Barbarian would have been proud. Arnold was an impressive specimen of Deltan, almost big enough to pass as a juvenile gorilloid, and the hand axe was about equivalent to a felling axe—Archimedes had been trying for the biggest he could make, and he‘d been very successful.

  Within moments, Arnold had split several more gorilloid skulls. This was a new battle tactic with no real, natural equivalent, so the gorilloids simply had no defense for it. The other Deltan males rallied, and in a few more seconds Group C was cleared of attackers. Arnold and the surviving males headed off to the groups on either side to reinforce the defenders.

  Then, disaster.

  One of the gorilloids executed a successful feint and found itself inside the line of defenders, with nothing between itself and the women and children. And Archimedes stood right there, unarmed, frozen in place. His mother was screaming.

  I could see Arnold turning, seemingly in slow motion. For a moment, I thought I might be in frame-jack. But no, I was simply in shock.

  “GUPPY! BUSTERS! STATUS, NOW!”

  [Coming up. Handing over lead unit… now]

  Abandoning any shred of VR simulation, I jacked up my frame rate and slipped into the buster. I could see the battle coming up through my forward camera, and I picked out the gorilloid. Archimedes was just starting to back away, and his mother was running to him. Arnold was pushing himself toward the attacker.

  I got there first.

  Forty pounds of high tensile steel intersected the gorilloid at twice the speed of a bullet from a high-powered rifle. The impact was not merely fatal. Hydrostatic shock tore the gorilloid apart, almost cell by cell, and spread it evenly over the surrounding ground, Deltans, trees, gorilloids, and anything else in range. The sonic boom reverberated like thunder from a lightning bolt directly overhead. Every living thing in the area froze and crouched in fear.

  The Deltans recovered first. Unknown noise or not, they had loved ones to protect. Several gorilloids went down before they could recover their senses. The quick deaths turned the tide, and the gorilloids turned tail and fled. A couple of dozen thrown spears followed them, and eight more gorilloids went down before they could reach the trees.

  It was over.

  The carnage was unbelievable. The gorilloids had been as much on a mission of destruction as they were on a hunt. Perhaps they’d been killing Deltans with the intent of collecting the bodies afterward. Perhaps they were just in some kind of feeding frenzy brought on by hunger. I realized how little I knew about the biology on this planet. I wasn’t a professional biologist; I was a dilettante, playing at biologist. A fake one, at that. And I might have caused a situation that made things worse.

  The Deltan toll was thirty dead with another fifteen or so injured, some severely enough that they probably wouldn’t survive.

  I gritted my teeth. Prime directive, my ass. I’m going on a gorilloid hunt.

  I directed the observation drone to a different location, closer to Archimedes. He was examining the area where the gorilloid had been. There were a few pieces of gorilloid still there, but a lot of the momentum of the buster had transferred to the animal, and most of the detritus was downtrack. It took him only moments to notice that, and he started following the trail.

  “Hey, uh, Guppy, anything left of the buster?”

  [No information available. No telemetry]

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

  Marvin tapped the video image with a finger. “The kid is going to find wreckage if there’s anything left. Question is, should we be worried?”

  “Hmm, fair enough. They don’t have any metallurgy at all, and our stuff is all going to have a very high melting point. They won’t be able to work it.”

  We watched as Archimedes worked his way along the trail. He soon came to a deep furrow in the ground. When he reached the end of the furrow, the ground was mounded up. Archimedes stared at the scene for a few minutes, then took off at a run.

  He came back within a minute with a piece of what I supposed could be called bark, in a scoop shape. I recognized it as a shared tool that was often used for digging up tubers.

  “He’ll be at that a few minutes, I think,” Marvin said.

  We switched to another drone and watched Arnold. He was demonstrating the use of the hand axe in battle to the males, fortunately not actually on anyone. The other males paid rapt attention.

  “They’re going to want to make more axes.”

  I nodded. “Archimedes is out of nodules. They’ve thoroughly searched the area where we dropped the first set. We couldn’t get away with dropping off any more.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do anything.” Martin had a thoughtful look.

  I looked at him sideways. “Okay. Why?”

  “If they have any memory of where their flint source used to be—and with Moses still alive, that’s possible—then it might be a good thing for them to go back there.”

  “Oh, goody,” I said, smacking my forehead, “a quest. Will there be nine of them? They can stop in Rivendell…”

  Marvin rolled his eyes. “Okay, Captain Sarcasm. But seriously, this location isn’t ideal for a lot of reasons. They ended up here because they kept retreating without a plan. Luke and I pretty much established that. The flint site is more defensible than this one, has better access to fresh water, and has flint.”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. A part of me still got some amusement out of that virtual action, but habits like that kept me feeling like I was still human. And it felt good.

  “Guppy, get Bender and Luke on the horn, please.”

  [Working. There will be a 0.75 second round-trip delay]

  “Noted. Tell everyone to crank the frame-rate down to ¼ to mask it.” I waited for a few seconds, then Bender and Luke appeared in the room.

  “Hey guys,” I began. “I guess it’s time to talk about plans. You’ve both passed your shakedowns, so all three of you are ready and able to pick a destination and take off. On the other hand, we have a race of sentients here, which we all know is an irresistible project. So, thoughts?”

  “Honestly,” Bender replied. “The Deltan thing isn’t so much of an attraction for me. It’s really your project. I came in late, so I’d rather find something of my own.”

  Luke nodded his head toward Bender. “What he said.”

  I looked at Marvin, who shrugged and looked around the table. “I’m a little more invested, I guess because I came in earlier”—with a nod to Bender—“and let’s face it, it’s not a forever decision. I can hang around here for a few years. Or a few centuries…” Marvin got a faraway look in his face. “We really are immortal, aren’t we?”

  He shook himself and continued, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll hang around for a while. Maybe when we get a new batch of Bobs raised, I’ll reconsider.”

  Marvin leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

  I nodded. “Okay, guys, thanks.
I’ll adjust plans accordingly.”

  Luke and Bender nodded, and their avatars disappeared.

  We cranked our frame rates back to normal and turned back to the feeds from the colony.

  Riker – November 2158 – Sol

  I disconnected the UN meeting video with a sigh. The day’s session had been pretty routine. Which meant something just below a bunch of cats fighting over a fish. The announcement that the Spits would be getting the third ship was met with the expected level of vitriol. Part of the problem was that Spitsbergen wasn’t expected to be a viable location by the time the Spits left, so no one would be able to take over the vacated premises. It was a waste of time to point out that that meant the Spits would die if they didn’t leave. This world was a lot harsher than the one I grew up in.

  In addition, the release of the Svalbard Trust contents didn’t benefit anyone unless they were on a colony ship, so to most groups it was a decision with no upside.

  There had also been discussion of the latest threats from some group calling itself VEHEMENT. I made a mental note to talk to the colonel about them.

  If I ever got that far. I looked at my call list. Unbelievable. For some reason, even if I didn’t participate in a session, everyone felt the need to call me afterwards. I wish I could say it was nice to be popular.

  And naturally the first caller was my favorite FAITH minister. I grimaced and briefly considered letting Guppy take him, but I knew I’d just be putting it off. However, I could make him wait.

  Ignoring the list, I made a call to Butterworth. We exchanged the minimum pleasantries, then I asked him about this latest batch of loonies.

  “Mm, yes. Stands for Voluntary Extinction of Human Existence Means Earth’s Natural Transformation. Or something close to that. I’ve heard several variations, including one or two that are obscene. Their stance is that humans have had their chance, and we should just let ourselves die off.”

  “Except they’re threatening to use guerilla tactics to get their way. Where does ‘voluntary’ fit into that?”

  Butterworth waved a hand dismissively. “I believe they expect you to voluntarily go along with them in order to avoid violence. Such fringe groups have a much harder time of it these days, but somehow they still manage to cause the occasional bit of damage. I think they were expecting to ultimately get their way until you showed up on the scene. Now they’ve started to escalate the rhetoric.”

  “Wonderful. I remember something vaguely similar from when I was alive, but that one was voluntary, in practice as well as in name. So, where does this group operate out of?”

  “No idea.” The colonel shrugged. “Pronouncements are anonymized, incidents appear to be random in location, except for being opportunistic. Their manifesto essentially says that we can voluntarily stop breeding or they will help us along the path.”

  I rubbed my forehead. People’s capacity for turning dogmatic stupidity into political movements never ceased to amaze me. “We’ve knocked off 99.9% of the human race, and somehow the crazies still manage to survive. It just defies the odds.”

  The Colonel laughed, and we said our goodbyes.

  Well, so much for delaying tactics. I was going to have to deal with Cranston. With a theatrical sigh, I connected the call.

  “Good afternoon, minister. What can I do for you?”

  Minister Cranston smiled into the camera. Or showed his teeth, anyway. I had no illusions about his friendliness. “Good day, repl—Riker. I believe I have someone here that you’d like to talk to.” He reached forward and adjusted the camera at his end, bringing a young woman into the frame.

  She smiled shyly and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Johansson. My name is Julia Hendricks.”

  I was stunned, totally frozen. I wouldn’t say she was the spitting image of Andrea, but if this woman wasn’t related to my sister it would be a miracle of coincidence. A small part of my mind knew that Minister Cranston had done this deliberately to manipulate me, but I didn’t care.

  Finally, after almost a quarter second of silence, I found my voice. “Hi Julia. I’m assuming we’re related?”

  She nodded, quick jerky movements. She seemed very nervous, but whether because of me or because of the minister, I couldn’t say. I had little doubt that the minister had given her very specific instructions, accompanied by threats.

  After a moment, she found her voice. “Yes, I’m Andrea Johansson’s three-times-great grand-daughter. I just found this out myself.” She gave a small, aborted glance in the minister’s direction. The message was loud and clear.

  I smiled back at her, trying for as much warmth as I could. “So how many collateral descendants do I have?”

  I think this question put Julia on more familiar ground. “More than twenty currently alive that I know of, Mr. Johansson, uh, Riker…” She looked down, embarrassed.

  “It’s okay, Julia,” I held up a hand. “I’m not really your great-great-great-grand-uncle, I’m just his memories. And I don’t go by Bob anymore, so that’s out. Might as well just call me Riker, like everyone else does. Almost everyone.” I gave Minister Cranston a hard glance. “Or William. Or even Will. I don’t expect you to really care about me, although I’m guessing Minister Cranston expects me to care about you and your relatives.” I tilted my head sideways, a minimal shrug. “And he’s right. But that’s not the same as saying I’ll bend the rules.”

  Minister Cranston leaned fully into frame. “We’re all adults, Mr. Riker, and we all know I have ulterior motives, just as all the other delegates do. Nevertheless, you have relatives here, and you will be able to talk to them whenever you want without interference. I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, he got up and left the office. Of course, they could still monitor the conversation, but it was a nice touch.

  Julia and I looked at each other in shock for a moment, then we both started to speak at the same time.

  The log says we talked for three hours, but it felt like no time at all.

  Bob – October 2165 – Delta Eridani

  I sat back in my chair, coffee in hand, and watched the fusion signatures of Luke and Bender as they accelerated out of the Delta Eridani system. Picking destination systems for them had been difficult and contentious. There were a lot of M and K class stars relatively close to this system. The problem with those is that they tended to be small and dim, with comfort zones very close to the star. A couple of the candidates were what you’d call marginal, and there was some argument about whether we should even bother with them. In the end, it was up to Luke and Bender. Luke was heading for Kappa Ceti, a G5eV star, just a touch smaller than Sol. Bender had selected Gamma Leporis A, an F6V star, a bit bigger and brighter than Sol. Bender was going to have a long trip—his target was more than 16 light years away. But hey, we’re immortal.

  “Report went off to Bill all right?”

  [Affirmative. The space station is fully operational. AMI controller is now in charge. The report was handed off for transmission]

  I tented my fingers and drummed them together. “Excellent.”

  Marvin sat across the desk, nursing a coffee of his own. I watched that for a second, frowned, and asked, “Hey which of us is supplying the VR for your coffee, you or me?”

  Marvin rolled his eyes. “Geez, way to break the spell. To answer your question, I am. You’re just supporting the visuals at your end. Crying out loud, we all invented this stuff.”

  “Sure, but we’ve also all been hacking away at it and sharing mods. I’d have to really sit down and go over the code to understand what it’s doing nowadays.”

  “Hmm,” he said, then changed the subject. “Did you notice with Luke and Bender that they really weren’t carbon copies?”

  “Yeah, but I, we, had that discussion with Bill way back about Milo and Mario, remember? Each of us is a bit different. Differences in hardware, quantum effects…”

  Marvin waved his hand dismissively. “Invoking quantum effects is just hand-waving. Just means we don’t know. I wonder
if, as we get older and accumulate memories, we’re getting too complex for a backup to contain everything. The backup is a digital attempt to save an analog phenomenon. It may simply be too granular.”

  I stared into space. “Interesting thought. Y’know, I still have the backup I made you from. Maybe I should use that for the next batch of Bobs and bring them up to date the old fashioned way.”

  “Whiskey, with a little sugar and bitters round the lip of the glass?”

  I put my hand vertically in front of my nose. “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk. No, funny boy, verbally.”

  Marvin grinned at me, then reached forward and poked one of the video feeds. It expanded to full-size.

  Things had settled down in the colony. In all, over forty Deltans had died in the gorilloid attack. Several who were injured but not killed were maimed for life. I’d finally gotten to see how the Deltans handled their dead. They did indeed have a ceremony, and they buried their dead. They also mourned them, every bit as heart-wrenchingly as any human. I’d had to turn away from the video for most of that.

  The colony had been cleaned up, and the gorilloid carcasses were gone. Archimedes had found the remains of the buster drone. Not that it would do him much good. All that was really left were the steel caps at either end. Most of the rest of it had been shredded and scattered. But Archimedes had discovered that the two twenty-pound items could be used as a hammer or an anvil. They seemed to be able to take any punishment he threw at them. Well, on a scale of zero to ten for cultural contamination, I’d rate that as a one point five, so screw it.

  Arnold kept the axe. No one wanted to try to take it away, and anyway, Arnold was willing to do any chopping that anyone needed. He seemed to enjoy the action, he was very good at it, and the requestor didn’t have to do any work. Very much a win-win.