Tharsis glared at him. “Commander, I’m having you arrested. You know the militia is bound by military–”
“Sure, Admiral, throw me in the clink. Before your goons can get over here, I’ll space those three sonsobitches myself.”
“They’re alive?” she said.
Rather than answer, he grinned at Norman. “I’m good, that’s what it is.” He made a circle with thumb and finger. “Tactical X-ray wattage makes a hole this big. They’re in our cargo bay now.”
Tharsis lifted her chin and looked down at him. She turned away from both of them. “Lieutenant,” she said to someone in her control room, “dispatch blue wing to commandeer the Regulus.”
“Wait a minute,” Norman said. “Wynne didn’t hurt them, he saved them. He didn’t even...” He frowned, surprised at finding himself defending the old bully, “...didn’t even attack them, exactly. He just fired on one of your ships.”
She smiled politely. “He disobeyed an order, Doctor Norman. There are consequences for that. Commander! Space those pavos and I’ll have you tried as a war criminal.”
#
Wynne and his command crew were locked in their own brig. That unnerved Norman, but he consoled himself. He knew Tharsis clung fiercely to the hope that a peaceful coexistence could be forged, if only she could understand the pavos’ desperation. Norman wasn’t sure if it was desperation or something else, but he admired her tenacity.
He floated on the sports deck, the image of Tharsis beside him. He could see Wynne’s ship outside, surrounded by CS warships.
Tharsis had him communicate from the station with the pavo refugees on Wynne’s ship, after transporting a color patch over to them and fixing it on the damaged shuttle’s window. She wanted to find a leader on Avernus who had the power to negotiate for the species.
“Who is your leader on Avernus?” he asked.
“Five Arms.”
“Who orders you to attack us?”
“Five Arms.”
Norman rubbed his temples. He wished he could see the pavos, but Tharsis wouldn’t let him near Wynne’s vessel. Their planet held a thousand isolated cultures that fought constantly, exterminating some nations and allowing others to rise from the chaos. Norman had seen three cultures abandon warfare over the years, and each had been swallowed by its neighbors. A global leader? No chance.
Tharsis was listening silently. Norman tried a different approach. “We want you to stop attacking us. What can we barter for this?”
The pavos muttered too faintly for the translator to hear. Then, “We accept this surrender. We have learned that the skylights use machines to protect themselves from space. You ride these machines between the stars. Does this give truth?”
Norman took a breath and said, “Yes.”
“The pavos should travel to the stars. Give us these machines.”
“I will confer. Computer, computer.” He turned reluctantly to Tharsis.
She looked past him, into her own thoughts. “I can almost see it. Can you imagine being surrounded by some terrifying alien force, knowing they can cross the interstellar void, while your people are trapped on a single world?”
Norman folded his arms. “I suppose.”
“You’d feel powerless. It wouldn’t seem fair. Why should you be denied the opportunity to explore the universe, Doctor?”
He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Wait a minute. They keep turning our spacecraft into bullets. What would they do with their own?”
“I see the danger. But they know we can help them. They would see our refusal as greed and bigotry. They would condemn us, if we chose to wage war rather than assist them. I think we have no choice–”
She turned away from him to listen to her off-3V crew. Her eyes widened. “What?”
Norman felt a warm light on his face. It was the Regulus’s drive at full power. The ship accelerated away from its guardians.
Wynne’s image appeared before him. “Hi, Normie. I wanted you to see this. Tharsis! Did you think you could imprison me on my own ship? I know so many redundant passwords and digital back doors, I just chose my moment." He cleared his throat. "Time to settle the pavo issue.”
Tharsis shook her head. “Wynne, Wynne. You know I can’t let you hurt them.”
“I can’t let them hurt us.” His eyes blazed. “So stop me!”
She sighed. “I will, Commander. I have risen above this conflict, and that will enable the pavos and the humans to avoid war. I know you are confused by my perspective, but I assure you of my resolve.”
Wynne made a face as if he had tasted something bitter. His expression became serious, his eyes cold. He turned to Norman and saluted. Then he vanished.
“Wynne?” Tharsis turned to her second in command. “Lieutenant, target that ship and fire a missile volley across its bow. Detonate at three kilometers. And hail it; get him back!”
At the window, Norman couldn’t see Tharsis’s warship. But he saw the tiny cones of flame from the missiles as they swung into view and raced toward Wynne’s ship. They sparked and went out, fried by Wynne’s lasers.
Tharsis narrowed her eyes. “Blue wing, this is Tharsis. Kill that ship, that’s an order.”
The squadron of sleek guardians Wynne had left behind now flowed into an attack formation. Norman could see the X-ray guns glisten in the sunlight as they pivoted to bear on the target. On the Regulus, orange streaks burned across the hull as the lasers carved into it. Neat sections were sliced away. There was a shocking flash as the antimatter trap ruptured, and Norman closed his eyes. When he opened them, the glowing fragments were already spreading, forming a belt of debris around Avernus.
Tharsis stared straight ahead, seeing what Norman saw, but through her own viewscreen. Her face was stony, a mask of grim satisfaction. She glanced at Norman. “I'm sorry, Doctor. I had no choice.”
He watched her closely.
She frowned at him. “Doctor, are you feeling all right?”
Norman’s mind had stuck. What if the three pavos had hijacked Wynne’s ship, instead of Wynne taking control of it himself? Would she have destroyed it? The answer sat in his chest like a stone. He took a step toward her.
“Doctor?”
Norman reached out to Tharsis, and tried to rest a hand on her heart. His hand passed through her image.
#
Norman survived the next twenty years, unlike so many others. The pavo starships had fallen on human worlds like rain. Often he wished he had died, too.
When the fleet of converted merchant ships fought its way back to Delta Pavonis, Captain Norman, scarred and grizzled, was among them. They broke past the last line of pavo warriors based on Embla, and at last descended on Avernus itself. As Norman and his wounded companions burned the planet black, he trembled with sickness. This place reminded him of home, and of when he had been young.
Author's note:
This story placed in the semi-finals of the Writers of the Future Contest and received honorable mention in the Writer's Digest Writing Competition.
MIDGIGOROO AND THE SINGULARITY
The tracks were definitely human. Midgigoroo knelt and sniffed. Nothing. He had expected a rubbery scent, since the red sand had been imprinted with the complex markings seen in the shoes of the city people. The prints betrayed the presence of a tall, healthy male, strolling through the searing emptiness of the boundary to the tablelands. North of here was Kakadu National Park, eucalyptus forests, water, and life.
But these tracks headed south, toward the outback. Toward desert and death. Midgigoroo had not seen a city man since he was a child. He blew out a nervous breath and followed.
Midgigoroo lacked supplies for the journey. He wore a loincloth and body paint, carried a spear and boomerang, as his ancestors had for fifty thousand summers. But he had no water. He dogged the invader for a few hours, then waited out the day in the shade of an acacia tree in yellow bloom.
The tracks showed the stranger carried little. He must be lost. Midgigoroo decided he would so
on find a corpse. He would be sure to memorize its appearance, so he could tell a good story to his family. The warm breeze caressed him and the shadows grew long.
He started again, loping over the tracks, closing the distance. When he was a boy, he had always seen city people. Tourists had come to the National Park, armed with tiny cameras, and bought his parents’ traditional bark paintings. Twice he had traveled to the border of the Arnhem Land Reserve and bought ice cream and a newspaper, and dumbfounded his friends by reading the English aloud (he had faked most of it, stringing syllables together in a way that sounded like city talk to an Aborigine ear).
But things had changed. The tourists’ cameras became things that floated or walked beside them. The newspaper machine was replaced by a sleek dispenser of shiny discs that gave beautiful colors in the sunlight, but had no words. Then there were fewer people. The thousands of cattle at Brunette Downs disappeared. More airplanes at first, then fewer, then none. Towns like Renner Spring and Tennant Creek emptied themselves of all but weeds and dust. Soon, the only city people he saw were sealed inside the infrequent cars that raced along the Stuart Highway. His best friend, Patti Maka, had trekked into the capital, Darwin, to see if it was still there. When she returned she said, “You wouldn’t believe it. It’s the Dreamtime all over again.” She held him close. “I came back for you. Come with me.” For the next week he labored at persuading her to stay. She left again and never returned.
Midgigoroo’s beating heart told him the stranger was close. He crawled up a dune and peered over its crest. A figure shimmered in the distance, walking toward him, its shadow racing up and down the sand. The tall man was cloaked in silver, and only his hands and head showed. He carried nothing, and his face was ghostly pale. He waved.
Midgigoroo watched the man stroll into boomerang range. He stood and hesitantly waved back.
He tried the only English he remembered. “G’Day.”
“I bow to your spirit,” called the man. “If you are Midgigoroo, you’re the one I seek.”
So many questions fought to be asked that they all lost, and Midgigoroo couldn’t talk. The man stopped on the adjacent dune. His boots, with which Midgigoroo was already familiar, sent tiny avalanches of red sand down the slope before him.
“You’re too quick,” said the man. “So I decided to let you find me. My name is Orion.”
“You speak my language.”
“More or less.”
“I haven’t seen a city man in countless moons. And why aren’t you dead? Ayah! Are you dead?”
The man laughed. “I’m fine, thanks. And our society is alive and well. We have something to tell you.”
“Wait. I’m not an elder. Maybe you should talk to–”
“I don’t care. Everyone gets this message, and you’re my guy, Midgigoroo.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s our technology. It’s been accelerating for some time, and the acceleration has been accelerating. There were some people a few decades back, Vernor Vinge among others, who predicted an event. The Singularity. Although that term doesn’t apply today.”
“Singularity,” said Midgigoroo. He had never heard the word before, but it made perfect sense. “That has to do with something hidden. How can I understand you?”
“I’m not just speaking your language. I’m using some other tricks, too. Redundant systems. My people are very good at communicating.” Orion’s accent was perfect. Midgigoroo watched the man’s gestures. He moved like an Aborigine.
“Anyhow, they said all our technology would lead to the invention of a superhuman intelligence, one way or another. That would be the catalyst, because it would start inventing things, like smarter super-intelligent systems. Invention gets too fast to follow. No human could predict all the changes. Beyond a certain point, a certain moment, the future was hidden. The Singularity. We’re past it now.”
Midgigoroo understood. “Then your machines control you. We expected that to happen. Have you come to ask our advice?”
“Hm... just out of curiosity, what is your advice?”
“Give up your technology. It is eroding your souls.”
“Ah. No thanks. It turns out these folks were wrong on some points. Some assumed that a super-intelligence would think like a human. They don’t. They don’t compete with us, and they don’t want to seize power.”
The man’s words created strange visions. Midgigoroo squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Your spells make me see things.” He shivered, despite the heat. Then he smiled, and casually tossed his head in the Aborigine gesture for skepticism.
Orion replied with an Aborigine shrug. “My job is to inform you, not persuade you. Doubt me all you want. Anyhow, these intelligences said it would be better if humans were in charge. They seem to have our best interests in mind.”
“I see. Convenient for you, that your machines let you live. Why is that?”
“Because we built them that way. It was a shock, since so many of us equate wisdom with pessimism. None of the doomsday scenarios worked out. And everybody ignored market forces. There’s no money in building a computer that takes over the Earth. And everybody ignored folks like you, Midgigoroo. There’s always been a ten-thousand-year spread in technology across the human population. You and I represent the extreme ends. Your people have been our low-tech insurance policy. Not that we needed you, but it was nice to know you were there.”
The setting sun turned the stranger’s face pink. His uniform sparkled, perfectly clean. How unnatural he seemed, despite his able tongue. How misplaced. Midgigoroo shifted his bare feet, saturated with comfortable dust. “When all of you went away, we told the story. How the short-sighted city people let their technology destroy them. Now you tell me you are not dying out?”
“No. But everywhere the same thing happened. You saw it. Population stabilized at a cool nine billion. People moved to the cities. The buildings got taller. The farms got efficient, and gave up acreage. The forests grew back. It’s all been going on since about 1970, but nobody seemed to notice. Then, to you, we became invisible. Then it got weird.”
“The Singularity.”
“Right. I’m here to offer you a choice, and maybe to say goodbye.”
“You’re leaving?”
“That’s right. We want to set Earth aside as a preserve. We don’t need it anymore.” The man looked at the hot blue sky. “If you stay, you’ll never see us again.”
“Where are you going? The moon?” Midgigoroo had heard stories of city people visiting there.
“I can’t explain. I’d have to cover space and time and dimensions, and my software just isn’t that good.”
“But you’re inviting me.”
“Right.”
“How can I agree if you won’t tell me more?”
“Look, I know it’s a little silly. We decided we couldn’t leave anyone behind without asking. We take these things seriously.”
“If I refuse?”
“Then enjoy the Earth. You won’t be alone. There are San and Masai opting out in Africa, a few Saami in Norway, some Native Americans. Quite a few others. And we’ll leave some improvements in place. Nothing visible.”
“Like what?”
“Been sick lately?”
“No.”
“That’s one.”
Midgigoroo pressed his hand to his heart, wondering. “What else?”
“This and that. You’ll notice more frequent small earthquakes, and no more big ones. So, stay or go?”
“Wait... I knew someone. Patti Maka.”
“Just a second.” Orion frowned, as if trying to remember. “Oh! I got her. She’s a writer in New York.”
Midgigoroo’s eyes grew wide. Then he closed them, putting on a serene expression, the face of an elder. He remembered the ways of the city men. The changes, the novelty, the uncertainty, the dizzying freedom. His own people had preserved their way of life for fifty thousand summers, and would be living the same lives fifty thousand sum
mers hence. But Patti, dear Patti... “She’s going with you?”
“Of course. Listen, take your time. Talk it over with your family. If you decide to go, just say... let’s see. Say ‘Midgigoroo Orion.’”
“Why would I say that?”
Orion was gone. Wind whispered over his empty tracks, scattering grains down the slope. Midgigoroo listened in the way of his ancestors. In the desert waste he heard an echidna, a wounded gecko, and a mitika noisily grooming its fur, but no humans. The stranger’s two words hung on his lips, but remained unspoken.
In the decades that followed, Midgigoroo’s grandchildren became explorers of the new wilderness. He told them stories of all the marvelous and terrible things he had seen in the before-days. Cars, roads, buildings. He lived a very long time, but in all the tales he told, there were two words he never spoke.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading these short stories. If you enjoyed them, try Outrageous Fortunes, a science fiction novel.
Excerpt from Outrageous Fortunes: a Novel of Alternate Histories
"Ere Babylon was dust,
The Magus Zoroaster, my dear child,
Met his own image walking in the garden."
– Percy Shelley, Prometheus Unbound
FRIDAY
Prologue
Orange County Police Officer Billy Rennie eased his cruiser to a stop so he could watch the lightning. He was parked on Yorba Linda Boulevard, at the western edge of Chino Hills State Park. The clouds were gray and heavy, tinted with dust, and blue-white bolts crackled through them.
No rain fell. Precipitation since early spring had been nil, instead of its typical six inches. The governor of California had declared a drought three months ago. The chaparral in the park was brown and dry as tinder, seven hundred acres of sheer matchbox. The sun was setting and the land sank into eerie shadow, though the clouds seemed to hold on to the light.
Billy rolled down the window. The smell was musty and dangerous, and the fierce Santa Ana winds blew his hair and rustled papers on his citation clipboard. The electricity made the hairs on his arm stand up.
Turing's Revenge and Other Stories Page 7
