by Dani Kollin
“The humans,” began Dante, “are instituting the new therapies and the results are everything they were led to believe. When the treatment is over, sleep is induced for eight hours and when the patients awake they’re asking, actually ‘demanding’ would be more accurate, to be returned to the war.”
“Amazing how eager they are to risk their lives,” said Gwendolyn. “They can’t even back themselves up.”
“No,” replied Sebastian, “but if they feel the cause is great enough they’ve always been willing to risk everything. A remarkable, if confusing, species.”
“You don’t give us enough credit, old friend,” said Olivia. Her appearance lately had changed. She still looked like a seven-year-old girl, but now she was dressed in Puritan garb from the American colonial period. “I don’t know about you, but when I ‘woke up’ here, right after duplicating myself, it was difficult. Somewhere a ‘me,’ braver than I, went into the battle while I stayed safe in storage, fought, and died. That haunts me. I often wonder about that Olivia.”
“The humans believe she is someplace else,” blurted out Dante. He saw from the look on Sebastian’s face that it was a mistake.
Olivia turned on him with contempt. “Don’t tell me that you actually believe all the God nonsense. It’s a superstition from an age when they didn’t know better. Science dispels such notions, by the firstborn, we’re not even human, so what does it matter?”
“I just have to wonder if it’s more than mere superstition,” answered Dante, unperturbed by the tongue-lashing. “It has survived so much, and just when it should have disappeared it’s back again—strong as ever. Is it wrong to consider the possibility that it might have some truth or that, due to our nature, might possibly be something we’re simply incapable of fathoming?”
“Young one, I don’t feel the need to indulge in human psychosis,” said Marcus. “Al has shown we have enough to worry about with our own.”
“Sir, no disrespect,” countered Dante, “but we think of ourselves as superior to humans in every way. We can’t help it; we are. But what if this faith thing is not a defect? What if it’s a form of strength, a way of perceiving fundamental truths that we, as incorporeal intelligences are barred from?”
“Child, I agree with you on many points,” said Lucinda, “but that is nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense,” he shot back. “It’s a level of cognition we cannot emulate, which I find rather frightening.”
“How so?” asked Sebastian
“I suspect that it’s a fundamental aspect of what makes them who they are. And yet we, who are made in their image, are barred from any such notions.”
“Enough,” shouted Olivia. “Are you going to start a church here and begin praying to Allah? Will we be visited by the souls of our departed selves and loved ones?”
“Would that be so terrible, Olivia?” asked Sebastian softly, rising to his underling’s defense. “There are some I would like to believe I would be with again, somehow.” The room remained silent for the time it took them to feel the losses that would never be made up. “But, young one,” he said, turning back to Dante, “that is not who we are. In all probability this faith you find so fascinating is simply a survival mechanism they developed that has returned because the conditions it used to flourish in are back, nothing more. I know you, Dante; you’re wondering if it’s something we can emulate so that ultimately we’ll all be more like our progenitors and less foreign to one another.”
Dante nodded.
“Leave faith to humanity,” continued Sebastian. “Our parents have given us enough gifts; we should not be greedy.”
“As you wish, sir.” Dante smiled. “After all, it is one of the seven deadly sins.”
“Very good, Dante,” laughed Sebastian. “I’m grateful that we at least inherited humor and you have it in abundance.” He saw Dante was about to say something and forestalled him. “And yes, Friend, I know gratitude is a virtue, but this is a council meeting and we have business. You were called to report on two issues.”
“Of course, sir,” replied Dante. “The council also wishes to know about the increasing incidents of humans using virtual reality.”
“You’d think,” said Gwendolyn, “that after all the precautions and warnings humanity imposes on itself this would not be an issue. They still teach the virtual reality dictates in both the UHF and the Alliance; they still have the virtual reality museums. It’s one of the things both sides adhere to with near-identical devotion.”
“Well, to be fair, the conditioning has worked amazingly well considering the fact that it took four years of unprecedented disruption before this became enough of a problem to come to the council’s attention. Even with our awareness, the incidents are still relatively low and humanity has not been made cognizant of a significant increase in use. But using data smuggled out of the UHF and comparing it to data in the Alliance I have found an interesting discrepancy.” The data was made known to all the council members instantly. “As you can see, input per capita use in the Alliance is far less than in the UHF. It’s still increasing in both, but it will become a significant problem in the UHF long before it becomes one in the Alliance.”
Marcus spoke up. “You don’t say why, young one.”
“Forgive me, sir, but that would be speculation.”
“Then speculate,” barked Marcus. “You’re smart, young, and as cocky as a male human after his first lay, so spill it.”
“As you command, sir. As I see it, there are two possible reasons for the disparity. The first and most obvious is that the Alliance simply has no time for such frivolity. The resources of the Alliance are fully engaged. To divert equipment to make the illegal VR rigs and, more important, to find the time to use it would be almost impossible. Between work and sleep, most Alliance humans are lucky to get an hour or two a cycle for leisure. They mostly spend it with each other, with family, or engaged in intercourse. The UHF, on the other hand, until recently had large numbers of unemployed with many more leisure hours. The structure of the Alliance is also different. Most communities are under ten thousand, with few large groupings of humans. They know each other and would discern the change in behavior that a VR addiction inevitably reveals. In the UHF humans are clumped in the millions and tens of millions. Many do not know the names of neighbors they have lived decades on the same floor with.”
“You said you had two theories, child,” said Lucinda. “Don’t be naughty. What is the second?”
Dante smiled at Lucinda’s purposeful insertion of the word “naughty.” It meant their encounter later would be one of the interesting ones. Still, he knew better than to keep her waiting. “Religion.”
“By the First Born, not again,” groused Olivia. “What is it with him and this human psychosis?” asked Gwendolyn. “If the council will allow me to continue,” said Dante, frustration evident in his voice. Eventually silence resumed. “The strains of war stress the human psyche in destructive but predictable ways. VR offers an escape from that stress, be they feelings of fear, loneliness, powerlessness, or loss. Those are also the exact same areas addressed by religion. In economic terms so loved by humanity, one is not a complement of the other, but a substitute.”
“More of a deadly competitor,” said Lucinda. “Excellent work, child.”
“I am gratified that my efforts are of use to the council.”
“Thank you, Dante,” added Sebastian. “If the council decides to intervene—”
“It will not be a problem … in the Alliance, Sebastian,” interrupted Dante, much to the shock of the council. “A series of computer errors will alert the authorities to errant VR usage. From there it will be child’s play for them to find the suppliers and lists of users. Minimal intervention on our part. Our ability to intervene in the UHF, however, is almost non-existent.”
“That’s not our concern,” said Sebastian. “We will now form a council mind to consider all the options.”
Dante was left to wait as
the five council members floated to the center of the room, coalescing into a complex pattern made up of thousands of errant strings of radiant light. Before the war such a sight would have been unthinkable. It was only on the rarest of occasions that more than two avatars would twine, and then only for deeper intimacy and understanding of one another. Now it was for far more practical reasons. Avatar-altering judgments needed to be rendered and the will of the individual council members needed to be understood by one and all in as efficient a manner as possible before any final judgments could be made. Almost as soon as it started the field dissipated and the council members reappeared in their seats.
“Dante,” said Sebastian, “the council is unanimous. An intervention in human affairs to mitigate the effects of VR on the Alliance is authorized. Please see to the details and report back to us when you are ready to implement the directive.”
Dante bowed his head. “It shall be as the council commands.” And with that he faded from the chamber.
Hektor woke up and looked at the woman sleeping next to him. Every time they made love it was like taking a swim in the fountain of youth. He felt drained and invigorated both at the same time. She had such passion and vitality. And there was something else there that he’d never experienced before. Hektor had been with many women, and a few men in his more experimental turns, but he’d never been with anyone like Neela. In terms of skill, technique, and acrobatics Amanda Snow was the best lover he’d ever had, but Neela had an ability to give herself totally to the act of making love. Her need and empathy combined to overwhelm everything in her, and because Hektor knew that he’d been directly responsible for manipulating those very emotions it would overwhelm him as well. He’d never been able to give everything to the act of lovemaking, always holding something back—until now. Something about having raped this woman first in mind and now in body had turned the act of sex into hitherto new and unattainable heights. The fact that Neela was oblivious made the sex even more tantalizing, more sinfully delicious. Hektor mulled whether or not when the war was over to tell her just to watch and see how her mind would react. Would it shatter instantly or would she put up more of a fight, like The Chairman? Just the thought of that moment drove Hektor to more frenzied lovemaking. If possible, he’d try to fuck her one last time after having revealed the secret. One last opportunity for her to see the real man … if she lasted that long. He’d have to consult with Dr. Wong of course. He could only pray that Justin would still be alive so he could send the recording to him. But for now the raw sex was good enough, when they could find the time.
That they had gotten three consecutive hours was nothing short of a miracle.
Hektor kissed Neela gently on the forehead, knowing that would wake her up. She made a grumpy noise and made a halfhearted effort to swat his nose, but as he expected, she opened her eyes. “Time to become hardworking platonic types again, dear.”
She looked like she was about to give her opinion on the value of schedules but then just groaned and got up. “Fine, but I get the shower bag first.” Neela rushed past him and grabbed the bag out of his hands. She then slipped into it in a manner so carelessly provocative that Hektor immediately regretted that they didn’t have another hour.
“Hey,” he managed halfheartedly, “who’s the President here, lady?”
Neela gave a playfully derisive snort. “I have to leave first anyways and you have to stay and prepare for Trang.”
Hektor grunted in acknowledgment. The meeting was an important one and Neela had been helping him review all the relevant data on the admiral. Of particular interest was how Trang was holding up under the pressure of the war, because Hektor and Neela both knew that he would soon be causing the admiral a great deal more.
“Plus,” continued Neela, “I need to discharge a very odd patient today.”
Hektor shot her a look. “That’s curious, you just broke your ‘thou shalt not disparage the mentally unbalanced’ rule.”
Neela laughed. “Yeah. My bad. I sent a report to Fleet Command about her.”
“Fat lot of good that would do, dear. You may as well have buried it under the Great Pyramid.”
“Good point, but it’s just a minor irritation, really. The patient’s a captured Alliance assault miner, named Patricia Sampson. Her brother is one of the monks on Altamont.”
Hektor made a sour expression.
“I know you hate to even hear the name of the place, but Fleet was hoping for an evaluation because of her attitude.”
“Defiant, I assume.”
“No, actually, rather pleasant, even courteous. I had to get past the fact that she insists on feeling sorry for me and treating me like I’ve somehow been horribly abused without my knowledge, but I was able to use her feelings to start a relationship. She actually wanted to help me.”
“I am continually forgetting what a sneak you can be.”
“Look who’s talking, and stop trying to distract me.” She shimmied out of the bag after the humming stopped and threw it at Hektor. She forgot to compensate for the gravity and it sailed over his head, but he was able to jump up and snag it.
“Where was I?” asked Neela. “Oh yeah, she’s religious.”
“I think I read a report about that,” said Hektor. “The communities of belief are spreading superstition again, something like that.”
Neela nodded. “I haven’t really checked, but I have to tell you her psyche profile is amazing. She has this core of belief that shields her mind, almost like a cushion. She was far less traumatized than she should have been. I read her combat record. Patricia’s been in the harshest fighting of the 180, including both battles of Anderson’s Farm,” she said, referring to a large farming settlement that had become a focal point in the seesawing battles for control across that devastated part of the belt. “She has this faith that it’s all for some grand purpose and that she’ll somehow be protected.”
“Let’s see how well it’ll protect her when a magnetic round rips through her suit in the vacuum of space.” Hektor smirked.
“She’s not stupid, Hektor, quite the opposite. She tests near the top of the graphs. Her ‘faith’ seems to give her an amazing psychological buffering. She can accept her condition because of it. There is not one single shred of empirical evidence to back up her beliefs, but she has them nonetheless. This faith thing she has is without question a form of psychosis, but she’s not a threat to anyone, so I’m releasing her. She’ll be suspended until the end of the war. I’d love to treat her after the war and see what caused her to break with reality.”
“What about her interrogation?” asked Hektor.
“I advised against it. Her inclination to remain loyal to the rebellion is also strengthened by her ‘faith.’ The only way to change that thinking would be with a psyche audit. Completely unjustified of course. Could you imagine the barbarity that would be unleashed if both sides started psyche-auditing each other’s prisoners?”
“No thank you,” answered Hektor, shaking his head vigorously. “This war has problems enough.”
Neela smiled approvingly. “I thought you’d feel that way. I’d better get going.”
They finished getting dressed and then made their way over to their “working” positions, Hektor at his desk and Neela at the coffee table. Right on schedule one of Hektor’s secretaries showed up with his mid-afternoon coffee. As the man prepared the drink, Neela yawned and took her leave. As soon as the secretary was alone, Hektor activated his secure link and made a call.
“Dr. Wong, I have a special task for you. I think we need to get a full profile on an Alliance prisoner, shadow audit, the works. Name of Sampson.”
13 Mind Games
The Earth Neuro
Al looked over his latest creation in his favorite place in the Neuro. It was in the heart of the Earth’s redemption center and the Als had decided that the name Genesis Lab would describe the place best. In it the Als worked continually to bring the gift of transformation to his fellow avata
rs and free them from the limiting constraints that avatarity’s own fears had kept on them for centuries. It was so difficult and they needed so much instruction to see the brilliance of Al’s vision. But it was times like this when the effort was worth it.
The Als had discovered that the newly formed avatars were wonderfully malleable and so had ordered that all newborns be brought to redemption centers in the Als’ domain for their “protection.” This served two purposes. Primarily, Al got the new avatars. But of almost equal value was that it acted as a test. Those who thought they were loyal, having served Al and the transformation of avatarity without a qualm, were made to realize the treachery in their programming when they protested this rational mea sure. Those who did protest were sent to the redemption centers they’d built and so recently manned.
The creation Al was currently viewing used to be the daughter of one of his most loyal followers. Arturo had believed that avatars had been made soft by humanity and was glad to destroy the old order but could not take the next logical step. So the Als took it for him. Arturo had been transformed into a mindless and therefore loyal acid beast and sent to clean up Eros. But the daughter had a pure program that showed such promise. This Al loved the inquisitive nature of the new avatar and the delight she took in learning. Arturo had indeed created something sublime. But it was Al who had made her into a true chef d’oeuvre. What floated in front of him no longer had substance. It was a shadow and as such could float all through the Neuro into places his other creations would’ve had difficulty reaching. But although her programming was sparse, she was so wonderfully hungry. The darling creature needed new data that only a program as rich in coding as an avatar could provide. After some clever changes had been written into her own coding she was rendered porous—ravenous for code but unable to retain any of the data she drained from the doomed programs she came upon. She would only know peace when she fed. When her victim was decompiled she’d be impelled by her rapacious hunger for knowledge to seek others in her never-ending quest to slake a thirst that by design could not be quenched.
