“Yes, that is how it appears. Let me explain a bit. Doctor Chambers, I am Sandie the AI assigned to help Jerome and Cammarry on their mission to try for recovery of a colony ship. They went to the Colony Ship Conestoga.”
“I am aware of those missions, but human looking artificial intelligence systems are banned, and have never been allowed in Dome 17. Did Brink just arbitrarily break that rule? That does not sound like Brink, but you do look very human. This feels like a prank Willie is pulling. Some projection system built into clothing, maybe your necklace, to camouflage your voice and appearance. Is this a trial run of some novelty technology?”
“You are creative and inquisitive,” Sandie replied with a big smile. “Willie did not rig this up, but he would be pleased to know you thought of him. I am the AI that went with Jerome and Cammarry.”
“I will play along. Maybe this is a turing test. I am not an engineer, but my understanding is that those missions had a mass limit, on their flights, so why use up valuable mass with a human body, when the Atomic Level Processor is barely larger than a data stick? So if you are the AI, why do you look like an attractive woman in her mid-twenties?”
“Thank you.” Sandie blushed a bit. “I tried very hard and put a lot of effort into this endeavor. I look human because, while I am an artificial intelligence system, none of what you see is physical reality. You are in a simulation of your office at Dome 17. You, yourself, are a simulation of the human Doctor Chambers. A simulation I created from the records I have. I need your help.”
Doctor Chambers looked to the wall at the artwork he had done. He rhythmically tapped his fingers. He could recall each of the swirls in the paint as he blended the myriad of colors together when he had done the painting several years before. “You claim I am a simulation? I do not feel like a simulation. This desk feels very real, and you and I are conversing. I see you. I hear your voice. I can feel this desk.”
“Let me answer your questions. You are correct about the mass limit, and Brink would be the one to explain all of that. The mathematics is complex, but suffice it to say I did not go in a physical body on the FTL scout. My physical essence is and will remain in the Atomic Level Processor. This simulated body is to facilitate our discussions.” Seeing the look on his face, Sandie continued. “However, I see I will need to convince you of the fact that this is all a simulation. I conjectured this as a highly likely possibility. I constructed this simulation to be as lifelike as possible, from all the records I have. There were three major variables: acceptance, accuracy, and free-will. I will explain the first two now. One possibility was that by making you as realistic as possible, 99% accuracy, you would have only a 1% acceptance rate. That was an intolerable outcome. On the other end of the spectrum, with a 99% acceptance rate, your accuracy would plummet to only 21%, again an intolerable outcome. So I made more adjustments. My conjectures were that a simulation of Doctor Chambers would only be 72% accurate and authentic, if I allowed a 50% chance of you, Doctor Chambers, easily accepting the fact you are a simulation. You have a multitude of methods and styles you use. Your skills are adaptive and flexible in working with clients. That made my constructed simulation more difficult, but nonetheless an effective simulation was made and utilized. I did not want to settle for the 72% accuracy rate. I set the simulation at 90% accuracy, but that decreased the acceptance factor to only 31%. Those are the variables I established for you in this simulation.”
“That is a very elaborate account. However, I am fairly certain I am human and real.” He continued to gaze at his art.
“You have been looking at that artwork, which is very well done.”
Doctor Chambers nodded as he turned to Sandie and looked at her again. “Yes, I painted it about three years ago.”
“Look again,” Sandie tipped her head.
“What?” Doctor Chambers gasped as the artwork was no longer hanging where he had placed it. Instead there was a black and white piece of artwork consisting of nine panels. They showed distorted faces, engaging eyes, with arms and fists upraised. “That is ‘The Inevitable’ by Ibrahim El Salahi.”
“Yes, that is what I just placed there. I altered the simulation to place a famous work by Ibrahim El Salahi. You have told people ‘The Inevitable’ is a work showing a depiction of the time the artist spent in prison. The nine sections in his painting represent the different phases of his incarceration, as well as a call against injustice and civil war. It is very emotive, even in its stark black and white. It is interesting in having nine sections, because nine section control boxes are common on the Colony Ship Conestoga. But back to that painting…”
Doctor Chambers interrupted her as he stood and touched the artwork. “It also symbolizes the civil unrest and smoldering violence which the Sudan endured after the fall of a colonial power in the mid-to-late twentieth century. But how did it arrive here? The original was lost in the Great Event, and only copies remain in the database. This feels like the real thing.”
“Because I made the simulation as realistic as possible. This brings us to the third major variable: free-will. I can adjust your parameters so you readily accept the situation, however, that lowers your own free-will and spontaneity. I need you to be as accurate as possible. I also conjecture that you must have as high a degree of free-will within the simulation as possible to give me the best quality of assistance. So if you will trust and believe me, we can move forward. I honestly do need your help. It is about Jerome and Cammarry.”
“Change it back to my own art work while I watch.” Doctor Chambers said quietly. “This is a lot to take in.”
“Here goes,” Sandie said. She winked and grinned.
The wall shifted before his eyes and the famous artwork was replaced by the beautiful and colorful work done by his own hands.
“I saw it.” He sat down. Looking at Sandie he spoke, “I believe, but help my unbelief.”
“Now you sound a bit like Jerome, quoting ancient writings. And it is about Jerome and Cammarry that I need your help. Right now, I am alone on the Conestoga. Both Jerome and Cammarry are separated from me, and I fear they may be separated from each other. My communication systems are not functional, and the situation is dire. I need someone with whom to discuss my options. Let me repeat. I am alone, and Jerome and Cammarry are cut off from me, and possibly from each other. They may each be alone on the Conestoga. The Conestoga is a very dangerous place. I need someone who can give me insight into how the human mind, specifically Jerome’s and Cammarry’s, will react under those circumstances. Will you help me?”
“I will try. Please begin with the launch. I know the mission took off, but my memory of what happened after launch number three escapes me… Oh, I think I understand.” Doctor Chambers rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Yes, that must be it. That is when you departed as well, so you have no information about what happened here after your mission left from the sling bay. Personally, I should know what happened here after the launch. I have been here, but I cannot remember anything after my last visit with Jerome and Cammarry. Strange as this is, it seems I do believe you. I will help.”
“Thank you for helping me. I do know the fate of Dome 17, but did not incorporate that into your simulation, as it would not benefit our discussions. I promise to fill you in entirely, eventually, but for now, here is what happened….”
Doctor Chambers, the simulation of him anyway, listened intently as Sandie, the artificial intelligence system explained in detail the situation.
2 Water replenished and other oddities
“Thank you,” Jerome said to the young girl who was cutting his hair. Her dark eyes flashed a bit as she put the scissors away. She then carefully folded up the towel which had been around Jerome’s neck. The newly removed hair went with the towel. “You have said almost nothing while you expertly trimmed my hair.” Jerome looked the girl in the eyes. “Nabila I appreciate your help.”
“Jenna said one of us had to do it. So we had a contest. Dewi won. That meant I h
ad to come here,” Nabila stated, her mouth a thin line.
“Helping me was for the loser? Oh dear, if not for losers what would winners be doing? Well, thank you. You did an excellent job. I am glad it was you who helped me clean up.”
The briefest hint of a smile crossed the mocha colored face of the girl. Her complexion was only slightly different from the color of her hair and eyes. She said nothing more, and silently slipped from the wagon.
Jerome looked at the strange clothing he was wearing. It was nothing like the radiation absorbing material suit he had brought from Dome 17. The clothing he now had on was made from some woven material, and was brown in color, not the blues and grays of the RAM suit. It also itched, and smelled funny.
He looked back over to the small cupboard where the RAM suit was neatly folded and stored away. Thoughts raced through his mind about putting the RAM suit back on, but he relented. A mirror was next to the cupboard and so Jerome turned studied his own face. The worry lines were deep. While he was now clean shaven, a task he did himself with precision and care using an antique straight blade razor and soap, he still felt lost and alone. He ran his hand through his now neatly trimmed hair and noted the haunted look about his eyes. “Oh Cammarry, where are you?” A tear ran down his face. It dripped to the floor. He swallowed and then took several deep breaths. “Life is a series of spontaneous changes. Hesitance only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality, but work to alter the flow forward in whatever way you like.”
He looked at the small but comfortable bed, but shook his head. “Today I must do it.” He reached over and grasped his belt, with its holstered Willie pistol, and a few compartments to hold other items. He strapped that on, and grabbed his newly acquired backpack. It matched his clothing, being made from some canvas materials, and in an earth tone color. Looking back at the RAM suit, he considered taking it with him, but the backpack was over half full. He checked its contents: a fusion pack, a molecular torch, and the medical kit. In a side compartment were a few data sticks and a data stick reader. He fingered a data stick. “How different things might have been had you worked.” He let out a great sigh. “I shall be telling this sad tale. Somewhere ages and ages hence. Two roads diverged in a wild place, and I took the one, and Cammarry the other. And that has made all the difference.”
Slipping on the backpack he stepped out the small wagon’s door. The wagon was about as tight as the faster-than-light scout ship he had flown to come to the Conestoga. He wondered if that FTL scout still existed as it was docked to the needle ship in orbit around the planet Zalia. He closed the wagon’s door and looked up, even though he knew he would never be able to see past the ceiling of the habitat, nor through the thick green poisonous atmosphere of the planet which was just beyond the permalloy walls.
The sky tube far overhead cast a warm and yellow glow to the habitat. It was not raining today, and that allowed him to see all the way to the top of the habitat. He muttered to himself, giving words to his ideas. “Cammarry, I used to think that together we could face any challenges, as deep as the old ocean and as high as the sky. Now all I see is a vast ceiling blocking my view. Outside would be an utterly foreign world with green sky, and toxic poisonous atmosphere. Have I just traded a blurry, dead, tan world, for a larger prison cell? Alone in a pretty prison is still alone.”
Jerome looked down from the sky tube and around at the busy camp. The places he and Cammarry had helped assemble looked different now. The roustabouts were busy at their specific tasks. The wagons had been mostly converted into semi-permanent dwelling places, with some having the wheels removed and stacked for storage. The camp had more of a town feeling.
Jerome stepped a few paces away from the wagon he had been borrowing for the last few days. Several birds flew by, and Jerome snapped his head sideways to watch them. Animals still amazed him. The birds were yellow with black wings, and sped by quickly, then darted back the way they had come. A brown bird, fluttered by in a different direction. Compared to just days before, now there was much more green plant growth, everywhere he looked. The river was visibly higher than he had ever seen it. The grass in the paddock was more green and growing. The horses were chomping as they grazed. The three young tobianos were kicking up their heels and prancing around. Those three young horses all had identical markings. They were overall white on their bodies and legs, with large reddish and brown irregular splotches. They frolicked among the larger and older horses. The three tobianos played and ran and raced from one end of the paddock to the other.
Jerome could not restrain a small smile as he looked at the playful young horses, the greens of growing plants, and the flight of the birds. “Oh Cammarry, we should be together. I wish you could see all this.”
“Perhaps she will,” Bigelow said as he walked up to Jerome. He took a drink from a bottle and then slipped it into a pocket on the side of his brown pants. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His floppy hat drooped a bit over his eyes. “I see you got yourself cleaned up. Jenna said you were in need of barbering, but I said your need was much deeper than what some shears could clip off.”
“So now you tease me for my losses?” Jerome retorted. He looked past Bigelow to where the construction for the eighth carousel was underway. “I would think some compassion would be coming from you.”
Bigelow snorted. “I brought you here from Carousel 7. You freely received food, shelter, personal grooming, and no questions were asked at all. Your privacy was protected. You were left alone as much as you desired.” Bigelow looked down at the ground. The cracks were filling in as the soil responded to the moisture which had been lacking for so long. He kicked some of the soil with the toe of his boot. “Days of quiet solitude, food, and safety. Monika coming to visit you on those lonely nights. I have not told anyone what I know. All that, and the rube still asks for compassion?”
Jerome grew a bit red with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped. He looked around more. The vista was pretty, but his heart was lonely. “I am grateful for what you have done,” Jerome sputtered. “I will be on my way now.”
“That is why I am here. I said I would help you, and I will. Are you really ready this time?”
“What do you mean ‘this time’ are you just being insulting again?” Jerome’s mouth was tight, his lips flat.
“No insults. Observations. You have come out to eat, to use the latrine, and to gaze up into the sky. Then you go back inside. You have wanted to be alone. I have watched. In fact, the roustabouts have a bet going on regarding what day you will actually leave. Monika thinks you might never leave, but who knows? Several of them have lost their bets already. A few thought you would only spend one night and then depart. I knew differently.” Bigelow took another drink from his bottle. “So is today the day?”
“Why?” Jerome pulled at the strap on his backpack. “Is this the day you picked so you want to win? Nabila lost and had to give me the haircut. So is this your way of winning?”
“Nabila is a good child. Far wiser than her ten years would suggest. Oh what she has seen.” Bigelow shook his head slowly. “But no. I am not stacking a deck to win something with you as a pawn. I am just trying to be there for you. If you want to wallow in sorrow, climb back inside. Or you can just walk away alone. The choice is up to you.”
“You know I need to find Cammarry. I must do that.”
“Yes, you must try to do that. There are no guarantees in life. The carousel goes around and around, but no one knows how many turns you will have in life. But as I said, I will help you, if you allow it.”
Jerome looked back up toward the bright sky tube. Several large birds were slowly circling far overhead. Their broad wings tipped a bit and they soared on. As they flew, Jerome wondered how they maintained their height with so little wing motion. He focused on a single bird in particular. Alone it soared in the wide gliding circular flight. It tilted a bit to the side, and its direction shifted, but it barely moved its wings at all. Jerome was impre
ssed by the efficiency of its abilities. A burst of flight caught his peripheral vision. A flock of tiny birds zipped by. The smaller birds seemed to have fury in the beating of their wings, which was very different from the smooth and gently flight of the circling large birds high in the air.
“Jerome?” Bigelow asked.
He returned his look to the soaring birds. There were several now, and they were circling in gently moving arcs.
“Hey rube! You have that faraway look again. I said I am here to help you, but if you are just going to stare up at the carrion vultures, then I will leave you to your entertainment. I thought you might be ready today, but perhaps I was wrong.”
“Carrion vultures? Is that like a raven?” Jerome looked at Bigelow. “Alone I wished the morrow; vainly I have sought to borrow; from remembered books of sorrow.” He took several deep breaths. “Finding some way to ease my grieving; seeking a way to get my courage heaving; hoping just to keep myself still breathing. On the quest we shall head for.”
The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books Page 79
