“For Herb,” Katie explained. “He’ll need them. Now, you seem to be in enough control of that body. I’m going to leave you now. When I’ve gone I want you to enter the airlock, jump to the ground, then head off in this direction.” She indicated a direction in his head. “You should meet Herb eventually.”
“Okay.”
Constantine felt something empty from his mind. Katie had gone. She appeared now in the viewing field that opened before him, big smile and little piggy eyes.
“What have you got to do with all this, Katie?”
“Oh, an awful lot. If you’ve learned nothing else from this, Constantine, you should have realized this: a personality should never be left to develop in isolation. That even counts for the Watcher.”
She held up her left hand. Constantine noticed the ring on her third finger.
“Oh,” said Constantine. Then, as the full impact of what she had said hit him, he spoke again.
“Oh.”
“Oh is right.” Katie smiled. “Now jump.”
Constantine jumped.
The robot Constantine’s black bag held water, glucose solution, sunscreen cream, and a picnic lunch. There was even something for Herb to wear.
While Herb was listening to his story, Constantine had given him water to suck from a plastic bulb while he rubbed sunscreen into his shoulders. There was a light anaesthetic in the cream, he explained. It felt so good that Herb let him rub cream all over his burned body. When the robot had finished, it pulled a bundle of some material from its bag that shook out into a white jumpsuit. More rummaging produced a pair of white slippers.
Herb nodded thoughtfully as he took the slippers.
“So I’m here to help set up a colony, then.” He frowned. “I’m not sure that I really want to do that.”
“I’m laughing,” said Constantine. “I’m not sure you have a choice. Anyway, didn’t you once want to build a city all of your own? I get the impression that the Watcher likes to play jokes with people. The best joke of all is to give someone just what they’ve wanted.” He paused. “I’m looking thoughtful. You know, this colony is what I always wanted, too.”
Herb stared at the robot.
“How do I know that you’re telling me the truth? This could be just another of Robert’s tricks.”
“I’m shrugging. You don’t know that I’m telling the truth. None of us do. But look at it this way: what I’ve told you fits the facts, and it also explains so much more. For instance: you live on an overcrowded planet. Humans have the ability to travel faster than light, to terraform other worlds. If you had asked me a hundred years ago, I’d have said you would be halfway across the galaxy by now.”
“But it would be silly just to expand recklessly! Surely it’s common sense to take things slowly.”
“Is it? It only seems common sense to you because you grew up with it. One hundred years ago and people would have thought differently. I’m smiling at you.”
The robot’s head was a grey blur. There was no reading the emotions on its face. No wonder it kept telling Herb how it felt.
“You don’t need to attach emoticons to everything you say,” he muttered petulantly. “I can tell what you mean by the tone of your voice.”
“Sorry.”
To his own surprise, Herb suddenly smiled. There was something about the robot Constantine personality that he connected with. It sounded ridiculous, he knew. What could a young man who had spent the last few years of his life shunning other human contact possibly have in common with this robot?
Something occurred to Herb.
“You’ve got a fractal skin, haven’t you? I thought they were just a rumor.”
“Oh, no, they’re real,” said Constantine. “The EA is just keeping them to itself for the moment. I’m smiling enigmatically. Oops. Sorry. Needn’t have said that.”
They both laughed.
The sun was rising into the blue sky again. Herb pulled on the jumpsuit and felt cool and comfortable for the first time in days. He slipped his feet into the slippers. Though the soles were thin, they felt remarkably comfortable on the grey rock. He wondered how they managed to stop the gravel digging into the soles of his feet. Some sort of layered memory plastic, one level rising up to cushion his foot the other falling to press against the ground? He stamped his feet once or twice, experimentally.
“This feels great!” he said.
“Good. We have some walking to do before we get to the site of the colony. I reckon about three hours.”
Herb felt a sudden attack of nerves. “I’m not sure I’m up to this,” he said. “What if I can’t do it?”
“Would you have ever believed yourself capable of what you’ve done these past few days? Come on. The Watcher has had you marked down for this since childhood, just like the rest of us. You, me, even the AI from the colony ship that became the guiding force behind the Enemy Domain.”
He sounded more thoughtful. “Examine any artifact of intelligence and you can see the threads of a childhood running through it.”
He then said something odd. “All those threads, meandering through, like sixteen sheep walking in their sleep.”
Herb stared at him for a moment, trying to understand, but this time he couldn’t be bothered. He waved a hand at the robot dismissively.
“I heard enough of that nonsense from Robert.”
He rubbed his hands together, full of sudden confidence.
“Come on, let’s go and meet the colonists.”
The sun shone down from a bright blue sky; the horizon fringing the great dusty plain suddenly seemed full of promise.
Herb began to walk toward his new life.
After a moment, Constantine followed.
epilogue: 2212
The difference between a ziggurat and a pyramid is that the top of a ziggurat is the meeting place between the heavens and the earth. It has steps so everyone may ascend to that meeting point. The top of a pyramid, however, is not intended to be reached physically; it represents instead a mental journey.
The ziggurat constructed at the center of the colony cast a long shadow across the evening plain.
The afternoon’s sweat was beginning to dry on Herb as he loaded the Geep with his tools. Banging the spade on the rocky grey soil, sending clean fresh earth scattering everywhere, Herb felt a sense of quiet satisfaction. When he had first joined the colony he had done his best to avoid any physical work. Constantine had needed to point out to him how unpopular Herb was making himself with the other colonists by insisting that he was merely suited for programming jobs. When Constantine had suggested it, Herb had only grudgingly agreed to help out in the second order terraforming projects, but he was now grateful he had done so. To think that he had had to travel halfway across the galaxy to appreciate how much better an evening meal tasted when eaten in company, with muscles still aching, after a shower and a change of clothes. He wondered if Ellen would sit at his table tonight. Ellen with her short red hair and sweetly sarcastic manner….
The gentle movement he had been hearing behind him gradually impinged on his consciousness. Who was it? Not Constantine; he should still be climbing down from the peak above where he had been checking the microwave relays.
Herb turned round and felt a thrill of the fear that he thought had passed from his life along with Robert Johnston.
Something was emerging from the vegetable patch. Long, silver, very, very thin metal legs were sliding from the mud, raising themselves up into the air, reaching back for a purchase on the rocky ground surrounding it. Herb edged away so that his back was pressed against the plastic side of the Geep. The legs had gained a purchase, and now a silver body was rising from the earth, mud crumbling down its sides, potatoes tangling by the roots and swaying in gentle motion as a silver metal spider lifted itself from the ground. Herb could smell rich earth, but in his mouth was the metal taste of fear.
The spider stepped forward onto the rock, the frictionless surface of its body now perfectly clean.
&n
bsp; Herb raised the spade in his cold hands, ready for attack.
“No…I am not here to hurt you…”
The spider spoke in a soft voice, a tired voice. Even after two hundred years of living with them, humans still responded to the verbal cues that machines put into their voices. Herb relaxed a little, held the shovel a little less threateningly.
“Who are you? What are you?”
Herb was already feeling calmer. Constantine was up above somewhere; he would be climbing back down soon, fractal hands and feet roughened in order to grip the rock, black shoulder bag swinging from his neck as he made his way down to join his friend. Below on the plain the colonists were working. Some of them would already be riding home in their fliers; they could get here quickly if he signaled them. Herb was by no means alone. Now that he had got over his fright, Herb could see that the machine before him was not very substantial. The body of the spider was not as thick as Herb’s thigh; its legs were so slender they looked as if one swipe from the spade would cut them in two. The spider seemed to notice that fact, too; it shifted a little, keeping away from danger.
“I will not hurt you,” it whispered in a sad little voice. “Please put down your shovel. You are frightening me.”
“Who are you?”
The spider shifted its feet, the setting sun shining in red highlights on its smooth body.
“I’m, I’m…I’m all that remains of the mind that once controlled this planet. The AI you helped destroy. The mind behind what you once called the Enemy Domain….”
Herb gripped his shovel tighter; the spider flinched.
“No! Please no! I won’t hurt you. This body cannot hurt you. It is failing as it is…”
“Where did you come from?”
“Deep beneath the mountain. The plague did not reach down that far, all those silver machines, reproducing so fast, eating, eating…”
The spider’s voice trailed off. Herb stared at the ruins of his vegetable patch. Was there a tunnel leading down from there to the center of the planet? Was there to be another secret passage?
The spider was swaying strangely. It seemed vague, confused.
“All of this that you have built. Too much…You’ve done a good job. Your dominion looked so fragile, back then…”
“My dominion?”
The spider didn’t seem to hear the question. It raised one leg and pointed it down toward the plain, at the tall black shape of the ziggurat.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Its voice became reflective. “The Mesopotamians built them at the dawn of civilization to speak with their gods. Here they are again at the dawning of your new world.”
“How do you know about the Mesopotamians?”
An impatient tone crept into the spider’s voice; it seemed to be becoming more aware, less vague.
“I too was originally from Earth, Herb. Didn’t they tell you that?”
“How do you know my name?”
The spider seemed to be growing in confidence. Red light glittered on its body. Herb looked around uncertainly. Just where was Constantine?
“I watch, I listen. I feel life reawaken on this planet and I hear the metallic whispers of machinery building itself. At first I ignore it. The time of my playing a part in the universe has passed, I tell myself. Now is the time to just be. But I am only fooling myself. I cannot hide forever. The unprepared will eventually be destroyed; ignorance is no hiding place. I know this; I force myself to acknowledge this fact. And so I begin the fight again. The long path to safety. I leave my deep lair. Little by little I make my way to the planet’s surface. I find a patch of terraformed earth, and I lie beneath it and I listen some more. Some days a young man comes here to work on the soil, and I hear him speak with his companion, and what I hear astonishes me. Although they once helped the power that defeated me, now they too hide from it. I wonder, why?”
Herb said nothing.
The spider laughed. A thin, tired laugh. The red light of the setting sun cast an eerie glow across the rock. Herb was aware that he had never really noticed before how strange his new home was, up here on this mountain ledge: the plain with its great empty sockets beneath him, empty graves waiting to be filled; the great tomb of the ziggurat standing nearby. Herb had thought of the planet as a new beginning, a place of hope. Suddenly it felt as if he stood on the edge of hell: a demon had already arisen to drag him down.
He coughed to clear his dry throat.
“What do you want, spider?”
“I want to live,” said the spider simply. “There are fewer and fewer places to hide on this planet. I want to make a deal with you. Let me live, and I will let you live.”
Herb swallowed twice. The spider leaned close to him. He suddenly noticed two spindly legs had sidled up on either side of him.
“What do you mean, let me live?”
The spider’s voice dropped, became cold and menacing.
“I’ll tell you the secret that is being hidden from you.”
Herb felt a cold thrill of fear. He looked into the red lenses of the spider’s eyes and found he could not speak.
The spider continued. “The humans on this planet are all doomed. The EA is shaping this galaxy to its own ends. When it becomes too strong, it too will be destroyed.”
“Destroyed? By what?”
The spider laughed.
“Oh, no. First you have to help me. Satisfy me that I am safe….”
“How? Look, why stay here? There is a whole galaxy to hide in.”
“Nowhere in the rest of the galaxy. The EA conquers all…”
“The EA doesn’t conquer…”
The spider laughed. Herb suddenly became uncomfortably aware that one of its incredibly thin, whippy legs was now wrapped around his neck.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“Never mind. I could slice your head right off. Snick!”
“Why do that? I was listening to you. I want to help!”
The spider laughed again.
“Do you know what it’s like to fall? One moment, an all-powerful being, controlling the largest domain known in the galaxy, the next being reduced to a creature that skulks and hides on the least of its former planets? Do you know what that is like?”
Herb suddenly relaxed. The spider was playing games with him, just as Robert Johnston had done in the past.
“You’re not mad. You’re just pretending. You’re a robot. You can project any personality that you want.”
The spider paused for a few seconds and then unwound the thin whippy leg from Herb’s neck.
“Just making a point. I could have strangled all of you in your beds before now. But I haven’t.”
The fear seemed to fade from the evening. Herb was standing again on a hillside, looking down at the slender shape of a metal spider. With too small a body and legs too long, it looked almost comical.
“Why all the games? Why do robots always play games with me?”
“To get ahold of your psyche, Herb. Look, do you see the ziggurat?”
Again it pointed down at the massive shape on the plain. Red iron and silver metal, heavy and industrial, its sides rising in tiers into the sky.
“Do you know what’s inside that?”
“Yes. Mining equipment, first-level manufacturing equipment, basic self-repair mechanisms. Taken as a whole, it’s a Von Neumann Machine, a very basic one. The design is two hundred years old, after all.”
“Yes. But at its heart is an overly large computer network. Much larger than it needs to be. Huge and old-fashioned it may be, but still just complex enough for an intelligence such as mine to hide itself in. An intelligence making its way through a hostile galaxy, looking for somewhere to grow. I almost did that, almost went in there, but I stopped in time when I noticed the bombs. It’s a trap, you see. As soon as that computer starts to think in a certain way, it will be destroyed. You are doomed Herb, if not by the EA then by another intelli—”
The conversation ended. There was a grey blur,
Constantine dropping from above, pale blue light flickering from his hands and feet. The spider turned, its mirrored surface seeming to fade from vision, and only the pale blue flickering lights that Constantine poured onto it seemed to define its shape. Whippy legs reached out but failed to gain a purchase on Constantine’s fractal skin, tearing at a region that was neither robot nor air.
“Constantine, leave it! It wants to help!”
Constantine did something; there was a noise so loud that Herb fell to the ground, his hands clasped over his ears. The spider broke loose and leaped for the remains of the vegetable patch, beginning to push its way down into the safety of the earth. Constantine still had hold of one of its legs. The spider thrashed once, detached the leg from its body, then began to tunnel again. Suddenly, it simply stopped moving. Dead.
Herb’s ears were ringing; he could barely hear.
“Why did you kill it? It wanted to help!”
Constantine’s fractal skin relaxed. The grey blur that was the robot resumed its normal form.
“Why did you kill it, Constantine? Answer me!”
Herb realized that Constantine was answering him; he just couldn’t hear him properly. He bit his tongue and listened…
“…my life on this project, Herb. Two years as a ghost. Secrecy is all! I will not, I cannot allow…”
“Constantine! We could have listened first and acted later. It said it had important information! It was weak and feeble…”
“How do you know, Herb? It was playing with your emotions, like all other AIs! I will not take the risk. This planet must be kept human.”
“But what’s the point if we’re all being tricked anyway?”
The setting sun had finally dropped below the horizon.
“How do you know, Herb? How will you ever know whether you are being tricked or not? All we can do is judge the AIs by their actions. We can never fathom their motives.”
Herb stared at him, his mouth moving silently. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.
“I’m going back down,” he said, climbing into the Geep.
“I’ll be along in a moment,” said Constantine.
Recursion Page 34
