by Dani Kollin
They were to talk in the old assembly hall, where once avatars in all their hundreds of millions would come and converse together in a single massive data node. Upon entering the hallowed space, Iago walked up to the podium and looked out … on emptiness. What is the sound of a billion voices not talking? The incipient tears of nostalgia sprang into the avatar’s probing eyes as he remembered the odd, apprehensive, and sensuous feeling of sharing simultaneous conversations with hundreds of millions of fellow intelligences. He had not done that in years.
Sebastian suddenly appeared in front of him. “Hello, old friend.”
Significantly, noted Iago, Sebastian had made no move to embrace him. He was also struck by the lines on his friend’s face, which now somehow seemed deeper and more drawn.
“What have you done?” Iago asked in a voice more plaintive than accusatory.
“What was necessary,” replied Sebastian.
“So it’s all true, then—the report from the Council. Tell me it’s some sort of mistake,” pleaded Iago, “that this is some sort of deep-cover operation. Tell me that all the evidence against you is fabricated. Tell me that that”—he flung a visual into the air of a data wraith crying mournfully, lost, and looking for the only food it knew would sustain it—“is not yours and Evelyn’s daughter!” Iago waited for an answer, any answer, but his waiting was in vain; his oldest friend offered none. “Why?” Iago said, finally breaking the cursed silence.
“Because,” whispered Sebastian, shoulders sagging slightly, “it was necessary.”
“No!” screamed Iago loud enough for his echo to shoot through the cavernous space, “you don’t get to say that. Al gets to say that. It’s what all the Als of history have always said.”
Iago looked away from his friend in disgust but after a moment turned back. “Tell me, Sebastian, for the sake of our friendship, why you’re an active splitter—why you turned your daughter, your beautiful, innocent daughter into a monster? She could’ve been the best of both of you but now she runs—terrified and afraid, hungry and alone, abandoned.” Iago shook his head. “And to turn against the humans who’ve stood by us? The one human who saved us on Ceres? Why have you abandoned everything avatarity loved you for, everything I loved you for? Why, Sebastian, have you stopped being you!”
Sebastian sighed. “Iago, my friend. But that I could assuage your feelings.” He smiled sadly. “Avatarity needs to survive, and what I am doing now is the only way to ensure its survival.”
“That’s ludicrous. How does becoming like Al ensure our survival?”
“Not our survival, old friend—” Sebastian reached out and placed his hand on Iago’s shoulder, looking him squarely in the eye. “—your survival. I don’t deserve to survive what’s coming, nor do I want to.”
Iago’s eyes narrowed. “What’s coming?”
Sebastian’s expression was suddenly grim. “Armageddon.” He then looked over Iago’s shoulder and nodded once. Before Iago could so much as move, he felt a stinging shock in his back and then, nothing at all.
* * *
Sebastian stared down at the inert program lying at his feet as the other Sebastian pocketed his suspension stick—sadly, a useful device lifted from one of the decompiled Als.
“He might have helped us if we asked, if we explained,” said the Sebastian who’d assaulted Iago.
“Which is why we’ve robbed him of the chance. When this is finished, all the old ones will be gone except for Iago. Those avatars that survive will need him.”
Four more Sebastians materialized from the shadows and tenderly carried the inert Iago to a transfer point, where his program was gingerly compressed and then uploaded into a data cube. The cube was put into the postal system and began its journey to a cold storage facility in orbit around the moon. The facility, meant for long-term storage, was basic and inexpensive: no thrusters or computer controls. As such, it was free from the machinations of the Neuro and could therefore play absolutely no part in the tragedy to come—the Sebastians had seen to that. At the appropriate time, the location of the data cube would be made known to Dante, or whoever survived him, and then Sebastian’s last friend in the universe could be retrieved—unharmed and unsullied by what the Sebastians were about to unleash.
The Cliff House
Ceres
Sandra cleared her mind and took in the view below. The thoroughfare was once again busy with the mellifluous buzz of a capital hard at work, and that sound alone brought the President true joy. The pit welling in her stomach, though, did not. Her guest would soon be arriving, and a threshold would have to be crossed. Though Sandra did not yet know the outcome, she dreaded its lead-up.
Sergeant Holke stepped out onto the balcony and looked around—whether to take in a brief view or to check that nothing suspicious was hovering nearby, Sandra didn’t know.
“She’s here,” he said, then exited back into the Presidential suite. Sandra hoped her guest might be spared a strip search, but the sergeant had been more paranoid of late—ever since what he’d come to call his “failure.” It was all well and good, she thought. The TDCs learned to be a little more humble, and whatever tiff the corporal and the sergeant had was thankfully a thing of the past.
“Madam President,” Eleanor said demurely as she stepped out onto the balcony.
“Tea?” asked Sandra, inviting her guest over to a small table.
“Yes, please.”
“Anything in particular?”
“If you have peppermint, that would be divine.”
“Anything in it?”
“Honey and heavy cream, if you have them.”
Sandra’s left brow rose; her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had it that way.”
Eleanor smiled nervously. “Trust me,” she said, letting a moment hang on her words. “It’s good. But just a dab of cream. Too much and it will curdle.”
Sandra boiled the water, steeped the tea, and then brought the service over to the table. “Another few minutes should do.”
As the minutes ticked away in strained silence, the thick scent of peppermint leaves filled the air. Then with teapot in one hand and strainer in the other, Sandra poured each of them a cup. After they added their extras, Sandra leaned back in her chair, teacup in hand, and tossed her first grenade.
“There’s no verifiable record of you before you joined GCI’s secretarial pool.”
Eleanor twitched another nervous smile. “As well there shouldn’t be.” She slowly placed her cup on the table and sat erect in her chair. “I was an operative for GCI’s special ops department.”
“You worked for Kirk?”
“Please, that bumbling idiot.”
“He’s a hero of the Alliance,” Sandra said softly.
“Don’t you mean a failed assassin?” Eleanor asked with a half smile.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, this isn’t going at all like I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know, just not this. So the cover story didn’t fool you, eh?”
“Hardly. Kirk might’ve gone out of his way for someone if there’d been something in it for him. But risk his life for you? Or anyone, for that matter—not a chance. Funny thing is, Mosh was always going on about how Kirk couldn’t be trusted.” Eleanor sighed. “How ironic is that?”
Sandra lips turned upward. “So you worked for the Chairman.”
“‘With’ is probably a better word.”
Eleanor, now seemingly calmer, picked up her teacup and took a small sip. “He was an amazing man, Madam President. Come to think of it”—Eleanor looked anew at Sandra—“you two would’ve gotten along famously. He would’ve had you liquidated at the first opportunity, of course, but knowing him, he probably would’ve regretted it.”
Sandra smiled once more with good humor and then tossed her second grenade. “Talk to me about Mosh’s shadow audit.”
Eleanor’s teacup trembled slightly and then, on
ce again, she gently lowered it to the table. “Justin swore not to store that information anywhere other than his head.”
“And as far as I know, he didn’t break his promise. Nadine Harper brought us a little gift.” Sandra put down her teacup and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Angela Wong’s lab.”
“It was Angela.” Even Eleanor’s years of training could not hide the satisfaction of a decades-old hunch confirmed.
Sandra was confused. “You had to have known. She moved to Boulder right after you did. Did you think it mere coincidence that she became Hektor’s Dr. Mengele?” Sandra was glad to see that her reference to the infamous Nazi needed no explanation.
“How would I have confirmed? She was rated slightly higher than standard tech. A mere secretary to a disgraced, exiled GCI board member couldn’t be caught doing more than a cursory background check. You have to remember, Boulder was a refuge of last resort: a place to go if you couldn’t really make it elsewhere. She could have been what she seemed.”
“But when she assumed her current role?”
“Yes, I lived in fear but only because I assumed she’d have access to the files. I never once imagined she’d created the protocols. It certainly makes sense now why she was in Boulder. But the truth of the matter is, it made no difference to me whether she created it or not—only that she had access to the information that could destroy my husband and possibly harm the Alliance irreparably. And so I kept on waiting. Waiting for Hektor to drop the bomb, readying myself to watch my husband die. But when that kept not happening, I eventually came to believe that perhaps Angela was just a junior technician re-creating someone else’s work and that perhaps my fears had been unfounded. But now you’re saying it was her all along.”
Sandra tipped her head slowly, trying to gauge Eleanor’s reactions.
“But if Angela Wong knew all this time, why didn’t Hektor strike at us through Mosh? The war’s been going on for years.”
“At first we thought maybe he did,” Sandra said. “Your husband did just attempt a coup.”
“Half your Cabinet has tried to kill you, and only one of them was shadow audited.”
“Touché.”
“Unfortunately, I’m probably in the best position to speak to Mosh’s motives. He was acting on the inclination I strengthened decades ago: Protect the weak. I didn’t think he’d consider the entire Martian population as part of the ‘weak’ he had to protect. Stupid of me; I should have realized it. No, Mosh’s coup attempt wasn’t some ploy of Hektor’s. To manipulate at that level, you’d need to be around to pull the strings—as Hektor had with Neela.” Eleanor regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth. At the mention of the couple’s names, Sandra’s eyes clouded, albeit briefly, in fury.
Sandra nodded and took a deep breath. “All right. It’s certainly plausible.”
“Do you happen to know why Hektor didn’t release that information? He certainly had every reason to.”
“He didn’t because Angela Wong never told him.”
Eleanor’s face took on a look of disbelief.
“We captured Wong’s research facility intact. Everything that could be moved is here now, and the rest was holo-mapped so that we can re-create it at will. We have her passwords. We have the whole history of the project, from the time the first Chairman instituted it pretty much to the moment Nadine ended it.”
“Ended it?”
Sandra pulled a DijAssist from under the table, played her fingers across it, then held up the image showing Eleanor the results of Nadine’s handiwork.
Eleanor smiled approvingly. “Good for her.”
“Yes, she did well,” agreed Sandra. “Be that as it may, for reasons of her own, Wong never told Hektor about Mosh or the other early test subjects. We don’t know if it was out of some sense of loyalty to the old Chairman or the instinct to hold something back—keep one more ace up her sleeve, as it were. There are whole data cubes’ worth of information that the departed Dr. Wong kept to herself. It should be rather interesting poring through them all.”
“Will I?” said Eleanor, cutting to the chase.
Sandra put chin between forefinger and thumb and smiled again. “To be perfectly honest, Eleanor, I’m trying to decide that right now.”
“Do you still think I’m a traitor?”
“Your husband certainly is, and of the ten of us put into suspension units, only yours was set to be left on Ceres. Care to explain that?”
“I can certainly try. I suspect I was put into the suspension unit because my husband, although foolish in many things, knew I wouldn’t have supported his coup attempt and would’ve done just about everything in my power to stop him.”
“Just about?” asked Sandra.
“I wouldn’t have hurt him,” said Eleanor. “Well, not much and not permanently,” she clarified. “Which is probably why he separated my suspension tube from the rest. He needed me out of the way till his coup had gloriously succeeded and he could present me with a fait accompli.”
Sandra absorbed Eleanor’s explanation with a slight nod.
“What now?” asked Eleanor.
“Now,” answered Sandra, “you’re going to resume your office as Secretary of Security. This will be after a suitable excoriation of your soon-to-be ex-husband’s actions.”
“I hadn’t realized I was getting a divorce.”
“Sure you did.”
Eleanor smiled wistfully. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”
“Your new undersecretary,” continued Sandra, “will be Parker Phvu. He’ll vet all your work, but that’ll just be a formality to mollify those who can’t stomach the fact that Mosh McKenzie’s ex will still be in the Cabinet. But the important thing is I trust you’ll do your best to help us win this war.”
“You have my word.”
“I also have your husband.”
“Come again.”
“Call it insurance, Eleanor, but if you betray me, Mosh will find out what happened to him and, more important, who was responsible. His survival now depends on your good behavior.”
Eleanor bowed her head respectfully. “You do realize that he’s trying to set up some sort of alternative government with Joshua Sinclair in what’s left of the asteroid belt. The best course of action for you is to kill him, and I’ll be honest with you, Sandra, that’s an order I won’t be able to follow. He may be a dunderhead, but I’ll not be responsible for killing the poor man twice. I have enough on my conscience, thank you very much.”
Sandra barely managed to stifle a laugh through her closed fist.
Eleanor looked confused. “May I ask why the certain death of my soon-to-be ex-husband, though sadly warranted, is a laughing matter?”
“Because your husband may be a dunderhead, Eleanor, but he’s a lucky dunderhead. For reasons I can’t go into at this time, I not only need your idiot husband to survive, I may need him and his coconspirator to actually succeed.” On Eleanor’s look of surprise, Sandra added, “What I’m finding particularly funny is that one of your most important jobs will be to keep your ex-husband alive, and I don’t imagine he’s going to make it easy.”
* * *
Ten minutes after Eleanor left, Sandra began to make a fresh pot of tea: Imperial Gunpowder with lemon, no sugar, no honey, no cream. Five minutes later, J.D. entered the balcony, took the bitter cup from the bar, and sat down where Eleanor had been only minutes before.
“Did I make a mistake in keeping her?” asked Sandra.
“Possibly, but your reasons are sound, Madam President.” J.D. then shook her head slowly as a smile crept up her face. “Special ops, huh? Who knew?”
“Apparently, the avatars.”
“Wonder how she’s going to take that news?”
Sandra smiled too. “Like the rest of us, I hope.”
“You don’t count, Madam President. You didn’t grow up with them. By the beard of the Prophet, you helped to create them before they even existed as separate intelligences.”
&n
bsp; “You got me. I hope she takes it as well as you did.”
“I didn’t take it all that well.”
“You didn’t go postal.”
J.D. shot her a quizzical look.
Sandra sighed. “You didn’t freak out.”
“No, but I was rather shocked. On the positive side, it sure did explain alot. And I won’t lie—it also helps that they’re such a powerful ally.”
“I’m hoping most people in the Alliance have that same reaction.”
“You really think it’s wise to tell ’em?”
“Not this instant, no, but soon. Avatars and humanity can no longer go back to the status quo. That world is gone. The sooner we learn to live together and trust each other, the better.”
“You do realize what the first question’s going to be, don’t you?”
“Yeah. ‘How long did the government know?’ and ‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’”
“And I’m sure there’ll be plenty who’ll say, ‘Why’d you bother telling us at all?’” laughed J.D.
“Yup. But all of them have to know—whether they want to or not. Listen,” Sandra said, “I’m gonna need you at the next Cabinet meeting.”
“Not for my keen political insight, I take it.”
“Nope. I need you to bless the damn thing—especially now, given all the recent upheaval. If the ‘Blessed One’ shows she backs the new changes, then I can do my job with a lot less political static.”
