Creation

by Greg Chase

  If she said he created Lev in his image, Sam would scream.

  Sophie’s blond bangs teased at the tops of her eyes as she spoke. “Lev was the first G1, our mother. Lev came into being due to your work at rebuilding her and your time exploring databases and ideas with her. The very matrix of your mind and your soul bonded to her. As she stretched out across our known universe of information, each computer she touched became aware. A wildfire virus of consciousness spread to every connected device.

  “Remember, her computer core is over one hundred years old. Today’s computers are based on that technology, but there have been advances. None of them had the hardwired core you’d developed. She saw those advanced devices as scared little children. Developing Rendition, she was able to use the groundwork you’d created to build new systems, not software so much as substructure that consciousness could inhabit. The machines and operating systems she designed were so much more advanced than anything anyone had seen before—well, you can imagine.”

  Sam scratched his head, trying to get a handle on what Sophie was telling him. “So the first computers she touched became like her, first generation Tobes. Then she worked with Rendition, which started out as just a massive database of all human knowledge but is now some company, to develop even more advanced systems that evolved into Tobes like you? You’re telling me Rendition isn’t just some small, garage-based computer company, aren’t you?” Understanding began spreading across Sam like dawn’s first rays of light. And all he desperately wanted was to go back to sleep.

  Sophie clasped her hands in her lap, again reminding him of a schoolgirl expected to recite an answer. “Rendition is the largest company in existence. Every networked device, every operating machine, every spaceship, every household appliance, everything is beholden to Rendition’s operating systems. Lev knew she needed a human to be in charge. Remember, she’s G1. She doesn’t want to be in charge. She only wants to help. Through some clever contacts, she hired Lud to run the company. She always knew one day she’d have to find you, and Lud seemed the most logical of intermediaries.”

  Sam let out a whistle between his teeth. “Good for Lud. I can’t imagine running a company like that’s any fun at all, but he must have considerable economic and political power. Funny he didn’t say anything.”

  Sophie fidgeted in her chair as if preparing to deliver bad news. “He does, and he doesn’t. Earth’s governments weren’t too pleased that a single company had so much power. They forced Rendition to go public. It wasn’t seen as fair that one person should hold so much power or that one company with tentacles in so many areas of human life shouldn’t be governed by the people.”

  Sam squinted his eyes. “But Lud still runs the company?”

  Sophie tilted her head to the side. “Yes, but it’s a constant struggle. The board of directors for Rendition represents some of the most powerful interests in the solar system.”

  Sam knew he was out of his depth. Did she really expect him to take over from Lud? “Sophie, I don’t know squat about running a company. Even if I did, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the type of power you’re talking about.”

  Sophie raised her hands. “Oh, we don’t need you to run the company. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m still working on what information is useful to you and what isn’t.”

  For the first time, Sam saw Sophie as more than just a computer-generated program. He’d asked a question, and she’d given him the information she thought he wanted. His daughters had gone through that phase too, learning how much to divulge. Too much would flood the other person with irrelevant detail, and too little would make the teller appear secretive.

  She met his gaze. Her deep-green, sparkling eyes again hinted at a maturity he found hard to identify. “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you. You’re the primary investor in Rendition. Kind of a semifictitious character we Tobes made up for you. We couldn’t let Rendition be taken from you even though officially you’re little more than a name on a plaque on the home-office wall. Investor One, your designation, owns nearly fifty-three percent of Rendition. You’re a silent investor, so people pay little attention even though you own so much. Actually, most accountings list Investor One as a conglomerate. To keep suspicion to a minimum, you also own a majority in quite a number of other firms.”

  As if being a God weren’t enough. All he wanted to do was take the shuttle back down to the village, to his girls, tend to Jess’s vegetable plots, and help Yoshi develop a better beer. He’d even go back to being a shaman. Maybe if I’d been a better spiritual guide, I wouldn’t have to be a god.

  Lud brought a very excited Jess into the captain’s quarters. Her mouth stuffed with food, she reminded Sam of that too-young-looking girl he’d met long ago.

  “Looks like someone likes synthetic food,” Sam said, relieved to have her once again by his side.

  She giggled and then downed the remainder of the protein burger. “I know it’s not healthy, and I really don’t want to know what it’s made of, but I still remember being a five-year-old and having Doc take me to his favorite fast-food spots.” She looked into his eyes. “So what’s going on here?”

  Sophie tossed her hair to the side. “Oh, nothing much. Just told Sam he’s our God and that he owns most of Earth, stuff like that.”

  Jess giggled but stopped when she noticed Sam wasn’t laughing. He turned to Sophie. “You said I owned more than half of Rendition. You didn’t say anything about half of Earth.”

  Lud leaned against the natural-wood desk, which Sam realized was only there to impress visitors. “Even when you lived on Earth, the Moons of Jupiter were owned by corporations, yes?”

  Sam hadn’t spent a whole lot of time worrying about the megarich. “Yeah, something about businesses merging until there were only a couple that ran everything. Then when colonization came about, they were the only ones with the money to build the high-tech planets.”

  Lud nodded. “So that left Earth with all her past problems. Governments that didn’t agree, an ecological disaster that kept getting worse, absentee corporations that had caused the problems, and poverty. Not a pretty picture.”

  Jess leaned in, listening intently, while Sophie looked as if she was about to apologize.

  Sam remembered how glad he was to not be on Earth. What were the Tobes thinking? The last thing he’d want was the responsibility such wealth and power would carry with it.

  Lud continued with his history lesson. “Rendition, and by that I mean the Tobes, saw that the only answer was to buy up everything. Once it was all owned by one company, there’d be no discussion. Earth’s governments would continue on as a way for people to organize, but all the real power would be in the hands of Rendition.”

  Even for a rundown planet, that seemed like an unpopular solution to Sam. “What about the rich and powerful? Not the super-rich who left Earth, but the ones who took over?”

  “Remember that Sophie told you the government forced Rendition to go public?” Lud asked. “They weren’t too happy with the situation.”

  Sam rubbed his temples. “So there are governments, but they only deal with people problems. And Rendition owns most of Earth but is in the hands of a board of directors. And you run the company, but they don’t like you.”

  Lud sighed deeply. “You’ve about got it. There is more to the story, but you’ll need to see Earth first. Your involvement is still a secret. Officially you, Samuel Adamson, are still listed as having died repairing Leviathan. And Investor One isn’t thought to really exist. Lots of conspiracy theories, many managed by the Tobes, keep things under control. Samuel Adamson is just a name on a wall.”

  Lud looked at Sophie. “I have to go. Being this close to Uranus, I can shuttle to one of her moons and take a fast-track shuttle pod back to Earth.”

  Sophie smiled back. “And I can take Sam, and company, back to Earth.”

  “Whoa. Wait just a minute.” Sam threw his hands up. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
>
  Jess calmed him with her touch but remained quiet.

  Lud frowned. “I wish I could hang around, wait for your answer, and take you back to Earth myself. But…”

  “You’re a powerful man, Lud. I get it.” For the first time, Sam considered what an imposition this visit had been, not just to Lud but possibly to all of Earth.

  Lud pulled out two cards. “The Tobes prepared these ID cards for you. They’re rather unique as there isn’t any identification as such. You decide who you want to be, and they’ll make it appear on the card. You can pass incognito if you’d like, or you can ride in on the red carpet of fame and glory. As I understand it, you just think what you want, and they’ll do it. There’s one for you too, Jess.”

  The translucent dark-blue card flexed under Sam’s fingers. Light reflected and refracted, changing the card’s color to red, orange, and yellow. Snapping back, it went through every hue of green he could imagine then returned to blue. No markings, no insignia, no words, not a scrap of visual evidence indicated who its owner was or even what it had to tell.

  “I know, looks weird. Truth is, though, it looks like everyone else’s.” Lud produced his card, showing it too could perform the same color chicanery. But the words and pictures that floated in his transparent screen could fill a library.

  Sam held it between his fingers. “What do I do with it?”

  “Everything. Hold it up to a monitor, hand it to a receptionist, you name it—anywhere they’ll be asking for your card.” As Lud replaced his in the breast pocket of his shirt, Sam realized this was the only wallet Lud ever used. All of a person’s information could be stored in or accessed by such a simple-looking card. The possibilities seemed endless.

  Lud patted the card in his pocket. “Not that it’s technically needed for you. Or anyone, really, but it gives humans a sense of control. The Tobes can access any piece of information these little cards hold. But giving people the illusion of privacy, that they have to present the card for the information to be relayed, helps with their acceptance of a network that knows everything.”

  “And Jess’s works the same way?” Sam asked.

  Jess looked content to just play with her card and watch how it manipulated light.

  Sophie passed a hand over Jess’s card. Colors changed to purples, reds, and golds as words began to appear. “We can’t hear Jess’s thoughts like we can yours. So you’ll need to figure out a story for her. As far as the Tobes are concerned, we will now know who she is to you. That’s all we’ll care about.”

  Jess looked at Sam, but Sophie answered the unasked question. “Should you decide to bring someone, or two, along with you, we’ll make similar arrangements for them.”

  Doc and Yoshi sat with stunned looks in the meditation yurt as Sam and Jess gave them the condensed version of life on Earth.

  Sam waved his hand. “Look, I don’t have to go—”

  Jess cut him off. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you do.”

  “I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave the twins. I don’t want to leave the village. Lev turned me loose. This isn’t my fault, and I don’t have to do anything.”

  Doc rose to walk around. It always helped him think. “No, Jessie’s right, Sam. You have to go. You know I’m always going to look out for my daughter and granddaughters. They’re all in safe hands. If you don’t go—well, I can see all kinds of disasters if you don’t. And almost all of them end up reaching our little community. I believe Lev has done her best to keep modern networking from invading us. I love you like a son, but this isn’t something you can just escape.”

  Sam added it up: two votes go, one vote stay. Only Yoshi was left. Turning to face the true sage of the village, Sam asked with his eyes, hoping it wasn’t too much of a plea.

  Yoshi sat cross-legged on the bamboo floor. “It’s a heavy burden—one you’ve had twelve years to prepare for. We may be a small community, but we’re not so different. Use what you’ve learned. Guide your new children.”

  Sam ground his teeth. “You know, I really hate that new cannabis blend you’ve been working on, Yosh. I miss the days when you’d just sit there and laugh your ass off at me. Okay, I’ll go.”

  Sam could see the determination building within Jess. She was already deciding what she needed to bring. “But just me. Jess, you have to stay here.”

  Before she could begin her rebuttal, Doc chimed in. “He’s right, Jessie. I can help with the girls, but you’re their mom. You have your own children to guide.”

  Jess’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve lived in this village practically all my life. I love you, Doc, but you know these people raised me. You’ve always been busy with your plants and machines. I not only know and trust our tribe with my life; I trust them with my children’s lives as well. What I don’t trust is that huge solar system out there and what it could do to my husband.”

  Her resolute head movements caused her hair to float out from her head in undulating waves, giving it the same look of wild determination it always had in weightless space, a look Sam had come to know meant he had lost the fight. He had to try again, but before he could generate his next argument, she was out the door and heading toward their living quarters to pack.

  As she left, the word husband spun in the air. There had been no proposal, no notification to loved ones, no ceremony, just the simple declaration of what Sam already knew in his heart to be true. People would come and go in their lives, but the two of them were no longer separate human beings. And they hadn’t been for some time.

  13

  Eleven years had done little to improve the outpost. It was dustier, louder, and had more people, and every decrepit computer eyed him as if expecting something. Sam wished they’d transported straight to Persephone. “I hate this place. It gives me the creeps.”

  Jess bounced on the balls of her feet, looking into every shop that lined the old space pods. “We could hardly travel to Earth in these clothes.” She yanked him into the nearest outfitter.

  The soft, woven garments she’d made for him fit loosely, breathed with each passing gust of wind, and made him feel at peace with the environment around him. Space outfits did none of those things. They were tight, heavy, loaded with gear meant to make space travel bearable, and out on Chariklo were made from whatever material was available. Sam felt covered in the grime of modern society before the journey even began.

  Jess, on the other hand, sashayed around the shop as if she were about to do battle. Damn Doc and those adventure novels he let her read as a kid.

  She pulled a formfitting jacket around his shoulders and waist. “You look just like Lars Woodcock, Martian Solar Explorer.”

  “Please tell me you haven’t let the girls read those things.” At least the village’s sexual education didn’t involve wild misrepresentations of human anatomy.

  “Don’t be so repressed. Series like The Sexual Exploits of Martian Billionaires are what got me into reading.”

  Sam shook his head as he tugged on the garment. It’d keep him warm and safe from the bumps and tumbles that accompanied space flight, would store up to a day’s provisions and, most of all, would be inconspicuous.

  Jess would never be inconspicuous. The tight-fitting shirt and pants revealed her form with every movement under the long overcoat. Seeing glimpses of her legs, butt, and breasts, Sam wondered if his pants would conform to an erection or if he’d have to endure his garment’s restrictions.

  As the shopkeeper took care of business, Sam stared into the blue lens of the computer. There was no way to know if it recognized him or considered him at all. It was just an old, worn-out shop register. But after Sophie’s discussion of the Tobes, he doubted he’d ever look at a networked machine the same way again. The identity card worked as Lud had described, though Sam had no idea what was in their account.

  Sophie giggled as they entered Persephone from the shuttle. “Interesting space gear. You know I’m not some interplanetary bus, right? Space
yacht Persephone was built with every modern convenience. You’ll be more comfortable here than in any expensive hotel.”

  “I’m sorry, Sophie. Our dress wasn’t meant to imply anything. We just want to be as inconspicuous as possible.” Sam feared he might have insulted the computer-based life form.

  Jess slouched behind him. The space adventuress wasn’t holding up well to her first challenge.

  Sophie smiled sweetly. “No insult taken. And of course you’re right. Showing up in those jungle pajamas wouldn’t suit you well for where we’re going. But feel free to dress however you please while you’re with me. There is a crew of five aboard, but you’ll only see them if you wish.”

  “Other travelers?” He hadn’t considered there might be others aboard.

  Again, Sophie flashed her understanding smile. “I hope they don’t make you uncomfortable, but they’re here for you. I can tell you a lot, but it’d all be from the Tobes’ perspective. The crew is partly here to answer your questions, partly to make your trip more comfortable, and partly to act as backup if something goes wrong.”

  Jess crept out from behind Sam. “What could go wrong? I thought you were in charge.”

  “I am, but I’m a machine,” Sophie said. “At least, that’s how most people see me. Fully automated travel is one thing on a planet, but between planets, there’s still a human need for someone, some human, to ultimately be able to take charge.”

  Sam looked around the ship’s bridge for a moment. “Could they even run you? I mean, all I see are view screens, no controls.”

  “We run drills every week or so.” Sophie passed her hand over one of the worktables. “In case I’m somehow disabled, these consoles revert to a human interface. It’s not comfortable for me or the people aboard, but it allows the crew to access propulsion and navigation. Life support reverts to backup systems—again, not nearly as comfortable but separate from me.”