Sensing an opportunity, Mahmoud interjected, speaking directly to the newSkidians. “We can only imagine, no matter what our experiences have been, the sufferings our indoSkidian brothers and sisters have faced over the past few years. However, we can sympathise with them because our own homes have been riven by religious and ideological conflict for where no resolution seems possible. All we desire is to get on with our lives, and if we are lucky, eventually return to our homes. Whatever lies in the future for us, I reiterate and support Lake in his resolution, we must put our differences aside and work out how we are going to live together.”
Lake turned to Mahmoud. He had been ready to admonish the little man, but now he regarded him with new appreciation and draped his arm over his shoulder.
“Let this be an example to you. People from divergent backgrounds can live with each other if there is a will. If we..” he waved with his free arm, “..cannot find a way to work together for the common good, then how can we expect the people we represent to do the same?”
While the audience was taking all this in, Lake turned away and strode towards his seat, followed by Mahmoud.
He realised he had learnt a good lesson today. Conciliation and compromise were wonderful ambitions, but for democracy to work there had to be an enforcement process which could be rolled out to maintain order when it was required. He glanced at the guards still flanking the doors staring impassively ahead and was thankful for their presence.
While he was pondering his next move, one of the newSkidians rose to his feet and raised his hand.
“May I speak?” he asked tentatively, and then without waiting for a response, continued. “I don’t know what the local protocols are, and I also don’t want to throw fuel on an already inflamed situation, but may I suggest we need to develop some rules of engagement.”
The suggestion sent a wave of muttering through the ranks of the indoSkidians. “But we already have standing orders to cover this sort of thing,” one of them interjected.
Lake knew this to be true, but he also knew none of the newSkidians would be aware of them. He picked a little wooden mallet up and tapped it lightly on his desk. “Let me remind you of our two key standing orders. Each Senator is entitled to be able to speak in his or her allotted time slot without interruption, and when my deputy ..” Lake motioned to Mahmoud, “..or myself calls for order, then the Senators are expected to listen and take their seats in a decorous fashion.”
“But none of the newSkidians are elected to the senate. How can they be equal to us?”
“None of you have been elected either,” Lake pointed out.
“Our first order of business should be to decide how to arrange ourselves and sort out the seating arrangements,” a newSkidian called out.
“Agreed.” Lake tapped the gavel on his desk. “We must circulate the standing orders to the newSkidians.” Lake wasn’t sure how this was going to work in practice since he didn’t think they were documented anywhere. To date, he had just made things up on the fly and the Senators had gone along with this because they wanted to believe that there were rules, and that Lake knew what he was doing.
Lake glanced at Mahmoud, who nodded his head in agreement. Then they got on with the business of government on Skid.
Twenty-Five
Bruce didn’t want to play gooseberry with Wisneski and Janice, so he set off, with the dogs for company. Two of them were yapping away loudly at anything which took their interest. It would be difficult to sneak up on the settlement if they kept this racket up.
Meanwhile Cop kept up a critical commentary of what was wrong with this world, and how he could fix it. Bruce would have preferred not to have the conversation. Mitch, for all his faults, would have been better company.
Yeah sure, Bruce taunted him, using the same methodology he used to fend off annoying telesales cold callers.
What would you know? Cop demanded.
Shut up, you stupid fucken' animal. Talking to Cop was a bit of pain really. He had just enough intelligence to be dangerous. Like all halfwits, the dog had an opinion about everything, little of which made any real sense. Little Bruce could carry on a more intelligent conversation than the dog.
Thanks Bruce, it feels great to be appreciated.
What do you know about this facility we’re heading to? Bruce asked the Transcendents, ignoring the dog.
I now have full sensor coverage and have integrated into the local network. Hmm. Strange.
What’s strange?
The MPU is fully integrated with the site. We just weren’t in the loop. I don’t know why.
What do you mean? I thought you said you knew everything. Were omnipotent.
Not quite, we are getting a data feed now. Let me analyse it.
Should I be concerned?
Concerned? About what?
Are Wisneski, Janice, and I in any physical danger?
No. We will protect you. There are no Skidians on site at present, but there are a few synthetic bodies in evidence. Then the Transcendents added, I might send for Myfair and Leaf as a precaution.
Yeah right, Bruce thought.
A precaution? For what? And what’s a synthetic body, when it’s at home? Do you mean like the androids we have on the moon and Mars?
Something similar, the Transcendents replied evasively.
Come on, out with it. What are you seeing that you’re not sharing with me?
We’re not seeing anything to be concerned about. A statement guaranteed to set alarm bells off in Bruce’s mind. It’s complicated and confusing... The Transcendents voice trailed away.
You’ll need to investigate further.
Well what do you think I’m doing, you fucken' idiot? How far away is it?
Not far. Your internal navigation system is programmed to guide you to the correct coordinates. You’ll know when you get there.
I have an internal guidance system?
We believe your people call it GPS mapping. We seeded the basic technology to various organisations on your planet because we thought this might drive some useful innovation we could utilise ourselves.
Well bugger me. Bruce noticed an arrow shaped icon at the very edge of his vision aimed at pin stuck in a map overlaid behind his eyeballs somehow as it didn’t interfere with is vision. As he focused on it, he became aware of a huge stream of data available to him, including an ETA of thirty minutes, if he kept up his current speed.
The settlement was close to the coast, and a satellite view he managed to effortlessly conjure up confirmed this. If they were lucky, they might have time to do a spot of fishing afterwards.
Before long, the dogs ran out of puff and even Cop gave up his incessant commentary. Bruce glanced over his shoulder and saw they were lying contentedly on the deck of the ute.
Lucky buggers, he thought. Not a care in the world. He glanced sideways at the other vehicle rolling along in parallel to him, across the vast, empty Skidian grassland. He and Janice caught each other’s eye. Bruce thought for a moment she was imploring him to help her escape from Wisneski’s clutches, but then she looked away.
Bruce shook his head. Sometimes he let his imagination get the better of him. Janice looked away and Bruce thought no more of it. Wisneski was a good guy: he might bore her to death, but he would ensure Janice came to no harm.
Bruce thought he could be driving across a prairie anywhere on earth, save for one thing. There was no sign of any wildlife, and even out here in the middle of nowhere, the environment had a manicured and cultured look to. Birds flying overhead this far from the beach were a rarity, and the ivops, the only large mammals on the planet, must have been grazing elsewhere. It was like was travelling across a vast, well-tended lawn.
The ute wandered along under its own steam as Bruce had engaged the auto-pilot. He had his foot on the throttle, but this was for show only and his hands were off the steering wheel entirely. The MPU shouldn’t let him come to any harm. However, Bruce didn’t trust it entirely and kept one hand
resting on his knee, ready to grab the wheel if needed.
At the twenty-eight-minute mark, the arrow in his vision was almost on top of the pin, but he couldn’t see any settlement.
What am I looking for? He asked
We’re not sure. We’re reviewing all the new data we have access to.
And?
I’m not sure, the Transcendents repeated absently.
Bruce felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The Transcendents not being sure of themselves wasn’t a good sign.
What do you mean, you’re not sure? Bruce demanded, as both vehicles dipped down off the plain, into a wide valley with the river in the bottom winding sinuously toward the sea. At the far end of the valley was a cluster of buildings. As they got closer, the arrow and the location pin merged, and an annoying little green light flashed to announce they had arrived at the settlement they were looking for.
The village was built on a small flood plain beside the riverbank, tucked in behind some grass covered dunes, and beyond was the beach, and the sea.
They stopped at the edge of the village. Bruce was torn between the need to find out what was going on, and a strong desire to forget about Skid and carry onto the beach to throw a line out, and maybe go for a swim.
He opened the door and got out, and the dogs scrambled over the side of the ute.
Wisneski drew up alongside, and he and Janice joined Bruce.
“Let’s have a wander around,” Bruce suggested. “There are some people here somewhere, but I can’t see anyone. Can you?”
“Not yet,” Wisneski replied, scanning the buildings, and then glancing behind them, checking for an ambush. Bruce noticed he looked a lot more alert than he usually did and took this as a sign he should keep an eye out too.
It was a pleasant looking spot. It even seemed to boast a café, something Bruce hadn’t encountered on Skid before. When they got closer to the café, he could see people wandering around in small groups, or by themselves, all of them looking rather bemused and jiggling about, like new born lambs getting used to their legs. There was also a lot of inappropriate touching going on, which he found a little disturbing, and Bruce wondered for a moment if they had stumbled on a Skidian version of a naturist camp.
The inhabitants noticed them after a few moments and they drew back in surprise. Can and Punch gambolled toward the settlement then stopped, hesitated for a moment, and then trotted back towards Bruce, and sat beside him.
They smell odd, Cop reported. This explained why Punch hadn’t leapt up at the closest one and tried to lick him or it to death.
Something didn’t feel right about the scene, and Bruce wondered what he might be missing. The people they had encountered and who had initially drawn back in alarm when they had had arrived and then stopped and stared at the dogs, now ignored the three offworlders. They clearly didn’t feel threatened or troubled by humans in their midst or had more important things on their minds.
“What the fuck?” he muttered. Something Ngaio had mentioned nagged at him. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
“This is spooky,” Janice declared, taking Wisneski’s hand. She was trying to tug him back towards the ute. However, Wisneski stood his ground. Bruce guessed Wisneski was confident about his personal security and was as curious as Bruce was about the situation.
“Who do you think they are?” Wisneski asked.
“I’m buggered if I know,” Bruce replied and asked the Transcendents.
Any ideas?
I thought you were cleverer than that. Haven’t you worked it out yet?
Worked what out?
Another figure appeared. A tall young man with a blonde mane of hair stumbled toward them like a new born lamb getting used to its legs. He was completely un-coordinated: tripping over his own feet, he almost ended up in a heap in front of them.
“Hi Bruce.”
“Who are you?” The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place the voice or the face. He sounded like someone Bruce should know.
Beside him Wisneski and Janice let out gasps of surprise.
“Bruce, what’s going on here? What have you been up to?”
“Eh, what do you mean?”
“Can’t you see?”
“What are you talking about?” Bruce demanded. Why did he always feel he was he surrounded by idiots?
“It’s me, you muppet.”
“I don’t get it.” Bruce stopped in his tracks. “You’re the Transcendents!” he exclaimed, as it finally dawned on him.
“I’m a Transcendent,” it corrected Bruce. “I just happen to be the one of a small group who were assigned to you while we developed our plans. Don’t you understand what’s happening here?” it continued. “You challenged us and inspired us to grow our own clone bodies.”
“I what?”
“You inspired us,” the Transcendent repeated. “This means we no longer need to upload newSkidian bodies. We can manufacture as many of these organic constructs as we need and leave them in storage until they are required. This means the newSkidians we have uploaded recently can eventually return home. That is what most of them want to do anyhow.”
Bruce was lost for words. “You mean after all the planning we did, and the upheaval we have forced on all the newSkidians, all you have to say is ‘We don’t need you after all and you can go home now.’ Well. Fuck you and thank you very much!”
“Be fair, Bruce. There was no guarantee of success in the cloning process. It was always possible the process would ultimately fail,” it repeated, “and we would still need the newSkidians. We also needed the newSkidians to download into in the interim until we manufacture enough new bodies. You understand our position, don’t you?”
“What are we going to do with all these people? We can’t just send them home. It could be disastrous, the exact opposite of what we were trying to achieve.” Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what the real effects would be, but one hundred thousand people turning up on earth after a trip to an alien planet unannounced was going to have an enormous impact, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a positive one.
“We could erase their memory,” the Transcendent ventured. “They’d have no memory of their time on Skid.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, based on my experience.” Bruce had undergone a Skidian memory wipe himself at one stage and they had managed to cock it up.
“What’s your opinion?” The Transcendent turned to Wisneski and Janice.
“Tens of thousands of people re-emerging somewhere on earth, with no idea where they had been for the last little while, would cause all kinds of confusion,” Wisneski replied. “It’s almost the reverse of what were tried to do with the creation of the Mars for You program, uploading economic refugees and keeping it really low key.”
“We have plenty of time to decide what the best option is.”
“How come?”
“Any repatriation mission will have to wait because we have shifted the anchor point for the wormhole out of Earth's orbit.”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“Automedon had fulfilled its role, and we nudged it off on a trajectory which will eventually cause it to be captured by the star you call the Sun. It will take us some time to manoeuvre another one into position to anchor one end of the wormhole we need to send people home.”
“Why can’t you just open up the end of the wormhole on earth?”
“We can. We could send through an anchor point and a generator to sit on the surface. This is something we have always been reluctant to do in case the technology leaked to the local population. For short distances, there’s no need for an anchor.”
“We’re going to get this technology from you or invent it ourselves at some point. Just knowing it is possible will drive people and organisations to develop it.”
“True. However, we don’t believe you will develop the capability any time soon, and we don’t think you are mature enough for us to share it with you yet,” the Transcende
nt replied pompously.
“This is pretty rich coming from you guys, given an unintended consequence of your previous visits down through the centuries was the development of the religious movements who have been at each other’s throats for centuries. It would be easy to argue this derailed the technological development of humanity and still does, so you owe us. The right thing to do would have been to foster scientific thought to enable us to work out why the sun rose every day, instead of allowing ignorance to prevail merely because it suited your needs.”
“That’s not really fair, Bruce.”
“Oh, come on, be honest, you don’t really care about us. All you care about is yourselves. Alien or human, at the end of the day, all most people and organisations care about is themselves and not the greater good.” Bruce was trying to wind himself up and put some passion into the discourse. But he found, he lacked the energy. He knew the cloning was an appropriate solution for the Skidians, and he had suggested it in the first place. At least there would be no more uploading of humans to Skid for the near future. But he was more than annoyed at how all their work had ultimately been for nothing.
“How long until another asteroid is ready?” Wisneski asked. “The longer we leave it, the harder it will be for the newSkidians to re-integrate back on earth. Many of them still don’t really believe they’re on an alien planet called Skid. They think they’re in some new high-tech facility set up by western governments to deal with migrants, so the sooner we can get them home the better.”
“What will the MFYers do, do you think?” Bruce asked turning to Janice.
“I’m not sure. I don’t have much to do with them outside the few at The Farm. My guess is most of them will want to stay. I want to,” she added.
“I agree,” Wisneski added, “Given the choice, many of the newSkidians, wherever they come from, will want to stay. The ones who want to go home might change their minds too once we start the repatriation process. The longer we leave it, the more settled people are going to be, especially once they get to grips with the benefits of living here.”
The Colonists Page 49
