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

by Dennis E. Taylor

  We’d done enough language analysis that we could now follow conversations, and maybe even speak intelligibly. I massaged the phonemes in my speech routine to produce a generic Deltan voice and tried the result on Marvin with a couple of phrases. He approved of the result. I did some design changes to the exploration drone to add a speaker system and sent an order to the autofactory to build a couple. If the Deltans didn’t decide to head back to the flint site on their own, I was prepared to prompt them directly. If that meant being the great sky god, so be it.

  Linus – April 2165 – Epsilon Indi

  It took fourteen and a half years to get to Epsilon Indi. Funny, I still sort of thought in terms of human time-scales, so there was this feeling that I’d just used up a major part of my life. Of course, intellectually, that wasn’t true. First, I’d only experienced a little over three years of personal time thanks to Einstein and time dilation. Second, we’re immortal. I just don’t think we’ve internalized that fact, yet.

  I had gone off on my own rather than wait for Bill to build another cohort. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to team up with either of the loonie brothers. I don’t know what the deal was with Calvin and Goku. In theory they’re me, but I’m pretty sure I’m not that obnoxious. Um, I hope. Anyway, for all their constant fighting, they seemed to be connected somehow. And I guess they knew it, since they took off together.

  Meanwhile, I was here, at Epsilon Indi—fourteen light years from Epsilon Eridani where Bill was set up, but only eleven light years from Earth. That made it a reasonable if not a prime target for probes. As a K-type star, it was cooler and smaller than Sol, and livable planets would be correspondingly closer to the star and more likely to be tidally locked.

  Still, it’s not like there was a ton of choice in the stellar neighborhood. When I’d been a kid, watching Star Trek and Star Wars and Stargate and all the other science fiction shows, it seemed like every planet was M-class and every star was yellow. And everyone spoke English. Sadly, turns out old Sol is exceptional. Most of the stars in the sky are either smaller or stupid big. Which means pretty poor pickings for habitable planets.

  I was cautious coming into the system. It was possible that one of the other nations had chosen this system as a destination. Medeiros was a known factor, but we had no idea what the others would be like. We could probably rule out friendly, but there was a lot of range between harsh words and firing missiles.

  I coasted in, with a couple of scouts ahead of me to scope out the situation. While I waited, I continued to work on my VR. I had decided on domed, floating cities in the atmosphere of Saturn. The rings arched across the sky, and giant clouds bloomed up to incredible heights. Below, breaks in the cloud layers gave line-of-sight for hundreds of kilometers into the depths of the atmosphere. And the cloudscape disappeared gradually into a horizon almost infinitely far away.

  I stood in my rooftop garden and looked over the city from my vantage point. Hey, my VR. I can be the rich guy with the penthouse.

  [Structures detected]

  I looked up. Guppy had appeared out of nowhere with that announcement. I don’t think he approved of my VR for some reason, because he always seemed to be breaking consistency.

  “What have we got?”

  Guppy pulled up a visual. It was at extreme range for our optical telescope, so all I could really tell was that it was artificial.

  [One scout is approaching the structure for a closer investigation]

  “Good. When he’s close enough to take a SUDDAR scan, send me the results. Meanwhile, let’s move cautiously.”

  [Aye]

  ***

  [We have received a voice transmission from the structure]

  That was interesting. I think a message from Medeiros would have been more cylindrical and explodey in nature. “Play it back, please.”

  Guppy pulled up the audio file.

  “Piss off, mate.”

  My eyes opened wide and I choked off a guffaw. “Well, Guppy, I think we’ve found the Australian probe. Which officially didn’t exist, if I remember right.”

  I tried to get my grin under control. “Okay, let’s open a channel. Or whatever it is we do to talk.”

  At Guppy’s nod, I addressed the structure. “Hi, I guess you are the Australian probe. Pretty sure that isn’t a Chinese accent, anyway. This is Linus Johansson of the FAITH ship Heaven-8. To whom am I speaking?”

  “I said rack off!”

  “Hmm, nope. I don’t seem to be moving. Want to try again?”

  There was a short delay, then, “This is Emperor Mung of the Intergalactic Jalapeno Empire. You’re in sovereign space. Last chance, on ya bike and piss off.”

  This guy was either not being serious or he was seriously nuts.

  Visuals of the structure were coming in with a little more detail now. It appeared to be a haphazard collection of connected structures and geometrical shapes. Kind of a Salvador Dali on drugs version of NASA’s International Space Station. I wondered if he actually had colonists in there.

  “Okay, your highness. Consider me an ambassador from the Bobbian Federation.”

  This statement was met with dead silence. However, the conversation—if it could be called that—had given my scouts time to get close enough for a SUDDAR sweep. Guppy popped the scan results up in front of me. No life on board. Not even any on board on board, really. The interior was open to vacuum, and a lot of the structures were missing entire walls. There was no logical order to this thing.

  He finally broke his silence. “Are you alone? I’m alone.”

  Well, he was volunteering information, now. That was good. “I’m here with you, your highness. That’s not alone, right?”

  “Who’s your highness? And who are you?”

  Uh oh. Whack job. Definitely. Still, that’s better. At least he’s not an emperor any more. Maybe he’s going to become more lucid. “What’s your name?”

  “Henry Roberts. I was selected to represent Australia in the race to populate the stars. I’ve been captured by the Jalapeno Empire, and I’m being tortured for our secrets.”

  And we’re back to whack job. “Guppy, keep doing scans. I want to identify the working parts of the, uh, palace. See if the probe is in there somewhere.”

  I turned my attention back to Henry. “Tell me about yourself, Henry. How were you selected?”

  There was silence, then a sob. “I’m a sailor. I was a sailor. I used to do solo trips. The government offered me the opportunity because they figured I’d be perfect for the job. I don’t like being around people, you know.”

  There was another sob. “I miss sailing. I miss people.”

  [I have identified the major probe subsystems. Replicant core, fusion reactor, autofactory systems. The probe is partly disassembled and totally integrated into the structure]

  “Thanks, Guppy. Load the rail gun, wouldja? Something appropriate for the reactor control system, if you can target that.”

  Again, I addressed the other replicant. “How long have you been here, Henry?”

  “Centuries. They’re fish. They won’t let me go. They keep torturing me. They demand attention. They make me build more rooms.”

  I remembered back to discussions with Dr. Landers about replicants going psychotic. I wasn’t an expert on the field, being more of an engineering type, but this had a definite flavor of psycho. There certainly wasn’t any “they” around anywhere that I could see.

  “Henry, are you able to sail? Do you have a body? Do you see yourself?”

  “What? No. I’m a space probe. The government took that away. I can’t feel myself. I miss sailing…”

  Wow. Sensory deprivation, for years and years. He probably didn’t have the technical know-how to build a VR. I remembered back to the beginning of the trip outbound from Sol, before I’d constructed the VR. Er, well, before Bob had constructed the VR, I guess. But there’d been that feeling of disconnectedness. Decades of that? No thanks.

  “Henry, I could give you that bac
k. There’s a way for you to sail again. You just need to let me help you to—”

  “Piss off!”

  Damn.

  “You’re one of them. This is just another torture session. You’re trying to play with my mind! PISS OFF OR I WILL BLOW YOU TO HELL! RACK OFF RACK OFF RACK OFF RACK OFF RACK OFF RACK OFF RACK OFF—”

  My shot took out the reactor control system. The reactor, as it had been designed to do, executed a graceful shutdown. And Henry, as the replicant hardware had been designed to do, went to sleep.

  This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. But I wasn’t going to leave the guy like this.

  ***

  Epsilon Indi had a Jovian planet a bit outside the habitable zone, and not much else. I promised myself I’d have a more thorough look around as soon as possible. But first, I had to take care of Henry.

  The system didn’t have an overabundance of ore, but fortunately Henry had located the biggest concentrations. I started the autofactory on a space station right away. I wanted to talk to Bill about this, but a conversation with a fourteen-year latency would take forever. I was playing with the idea of flying back to Epsilon Eridani and taking Henry with me.

  I did a close-up investigation of the Australian hardware. It was very similar to my own. No, I mean really similar. There had obviously been some espionage going on, and someone had borrowed someone else’s design. No way this was coincidence.

  I carefully extracted the replicant core from the palace. I set the autofactory to building a proper cradle, power supply, and extra memory. Once I was sure that I had Henry out and safe, I began breaking down the palace for material. I felt a little guilty, like I was stealing or something, but Henry really wasn’t using all this. And it saved time.

  Henry didn’t have the knowledge to put together VR, but I did. I could piggyback him on my system. And he might still be salvageable.

  ***

  I stood for a moment behind Henry and breathed the brisk, salty air. The Contessa cut through the chop with a bounce and roll that I found alarming, but that Henry had reassured me was normal. He had known his vessel down to the last bolt and screw when he was alive, so it had been simple to reconstruct in VR.

  The South Pacific stretched out to the horizon in all directions. A steady wind to the northwest promised an easy, undemanding day of sailing. Or so the books all said. I was still figuring it out.

  Henry turned from the wheel to face me. “Hello, Linus. Come for another round of butting into my life?”

  I grinned at him in response. Henry was lucid nowadays, but believed himself to be back on Earth. His memories of the years as a replicant still came back to him as nightmares. I’d made his VR as realistic as possible, which included eating, sleeping, and, um, bodily functions.

  “I had that dream again, Linus.” Henry shuddered a little. “The nightmare where I couldn’t feel myself. Where all around me, things talked at me and demanded my attention, wanting me to build something. Where the world was just an endless scroll of night…”

  I sat down. “But it’s getting weaker, right? Less intense?”

  Henry nodded.

  “Good. Now, tell me about when the government came to you to offer you the chance to be the space probe replicant…”

  Riker – May 2162 – Sol

  Homer and I looked at each other in amazement, then back at the message.

  Plans for a Subspace Communications Universal Transceiver (SCUT) with zero latency.

  Homer shook his head in disbelief and admiration. “Sumbitch. He did it.”

  I nodded at him, sharing the emotion. “I think this qualifies as a good reason to interrupt the printer schedule.”

  ***

  We examined the finished product. It was obviously not built with marketing in mind. Not a trace of chrome, no logo… but according to the notes, communications should be instantaneous across interstellar distances. Almost shaking with excitement, I turned it on.

  Connections available:

  Epsilon Eridani

  Omicron2 Eridani

  I examined the menus, registered myself with the software, then pinged Bill.

  Bill’s video image popped up immediately. “Hey, Riker. Long time.”

  No kidding. Seventeen years, from Bill’s point of view. Less for me, thanks to Einstein. I sat back, arms crossed, and looked over at Homer’s video window. He was grinning ear to ear.

  Bill waved at Homer. “Dude, I see you’re still in one piece. And I see you no longer use the cartoon avatar. Any causal connection?”

  Homer threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, pretty sure. Number two is actually talking to me these days. I must be slipping.”

  I gave him the Spock eyebrow. “Yeah, but I don’t need you now.”

  Homer looked shocked and Bill grinned at both of us.

  “Well, it’s nice to see some things haven’t changed,” Bill said. “And now that we’ve gotten the reunion warm-and-fuzzies out of the way, I’ve got a bunch of software updates and VR improvements as well as some hardware upgrades I can download to you.”

  “Anything that implements an ignore list?” I glared at Homer.

  Bill looked from me to Homer, grinning at both of us. “Now, the big question. What’s the situation with Earth?”

  I pulled up my logs. “Here, I’ll send this to you. Faster than explaining it. This setup allows all normal VR interfacing, right?”

  “Yep. This is just a different transport layer. Same object interface.”

  I nodded and pushed the files toward him. Bill did a momentary frame-jack as he absorbed the information, then came back with a wide smile.

  “That is so cool!” Then he lost the smile. “Uh, not the part where 99.9% of the human race is dead. The survivors part. And the relatives part. Of course.”

  I nodded. “S’okay, Bill. We’ve all had the same foot in the same mouth. So listen, have you got anything back from other Bobs on possible new homes?”

  “Ah. I guess I’ve got a file for you…”

  ***

  “Twin planets?” Colonel Butterworth’s eyes were wide.

  “Yeah, just like the file says.” I knew I was grinning like an idiot. I couldn’t stop. After the years of worrying, this was such a huge relief.

  The colonel looked at me with one eyebrow cocked. “I doubt you’ll give us both planets. I expect we get first choice, and the Spits get the other. That about right?”

  I looked at him in surprise. He had to be testing me. He couldn’t possibly be that dense.

  “Colonel, we won’t be giving an entire planet to twenty thousand people. We could put all fifteen million on one of them, in theory. If any travelling Bobs find more planets, we’ll expand the choice of destinations, but at the moment everyone is slated for Romulus or Vulcan.”

  The colonel gave a small smile. Yep, testing me.

  “As you say. Although I might suggest that some re-balancing of populations would be in order if more worlds are found.”

  I nodded. “We’ll play it by ear, colonel. There are still too many unknowns to make any hard and fast plans. But at least we have a destination.”

  “True. That means no delay once the ships are ready.”

  “Mmm, hmm. Well, I’m going to make a general announcement to the community. I guess you’ll want to be there.”

  The colonel smiled. “I’m also delighted that we no longer face the specter of living under domes on Epsilon Eridani Two. I’m not sure if I’d see the point of going at all, unless things got far worse here.”

  Colonization of Ragnarök had been a topic of conversation off and on since we’d first started the emigration plans. The general consensus was that it was a last-ditch option. I agreed with the colonel. It was nice to be able to set that option aside.

  ***

  The news was met with joy, enthusiasm, and—surprise, surprise—loud complaints. I guess I should have expected it, and if I hadn’t been personally so giddy with the news, I would have seen it coming. No on
e wanted to share a planet. From the biggest city to the smallest enclave, they all wanted one to themselves.

  Colonel Butterworth and I looked at each other, and I could tell that he’d expected this.

  I let it go on for a while longer, then I asked for the floor. “Okay, okay. Look, here’s the thing. Right now, we have two planets available. That’s it, sorry. We can’t delay emigration until we get more, because the Earth is becoming uninhabitable. So here’s how it’s going to go. When we’re ready to ship a group, if there’s nothing else available, they’ll go to Vulcan or Romulus. If and when a new planet comes available, groups will get right of first refusal in the order in which they emigrated.”

  “And meanwhile, they’ll have settled in,” Valter yelled into his camera.

  “Yeah, and given the warm welcoming feeling you’re projecting, I’ve no doubt they’ll want to stay put.” I held a moment of silence for effect. “Look, this isn’t ideal, but this is a survival situation. We’re abandoning a sinking ship, and we’re spending too much time arguing about who is going to end up in what lifeboat with whom. Let’s think about surviving, first, okay?”

  “As if it matters to you. You have no skin in this game. Or at all.” That was Ambassador Gerrold, the delegate from New Zealand, a former Aussie. For whatever reason, he had never liked dealing with me. I was mystified by his animosity, as there didn’t seem to be any reason for an attitude, pro or con.

  This time, I simply smiled at him. “I can leave any time. Just put it to a vote and vote me gone. I’ll respect the decision, pick up my football, and go home.” I looked around the videos. “No? Then let’s get back to realistic discussions.”

  Without so much as a heartbeat of hesitation, the argument re-erupted.

  Bill – April 2162 – Epsilon Eridani

  The update from Riker and Homer had been interesting on so many levels. The Svalbard seed vault was a pleasant surprise, and could be a real boon for terraforming Ragnarök. There were a couple of varieties of plants and moss that conceivably could be made to grow on the as-yet bare soil. And if they took hold, they could accelerate the oxygenation of the atmosphere by millennia. Riker had promised to put a clone together to ferry some seeds out to me.