The Android's Dream

by John Scalzi

  “I know one person it’s not going to be,” Creek said, and told Javna about Jean Schroeder.

  “Choked to death by a Nidu on the plain of Pajmhi,” Javna said, when Creek had finished. “There may be more ironically poetical ways for that shithead to go, but right off the top of my head I can’t think of any.”

  Horns sounded, signaling the audience to take their places.

  “Time for the pain,” Javna said.

  “Listen, Ben,” Creek said, drawing close. “Something’s going to happen in the ceremony, something that I haven’t prepared you for. Something that goes back a long way between us. I don’t have time to explain it now. You’ll know it when you see it. When it happens, try not to hate me too much.”

  Javna looked at Creek. “Harry,” Javna said. “Whatever it is, if it gets us all out of this with our skin intact, that’s good enough. Don’t worry. You’re like a brother to me. You know that.”

  “Hold that thought, Ben,” Creek said. “Remember you said it.”

  Takk came up to Creek. “It’s time to take our places,” he said.

  “Holy cow,” Javna said, looking up at Takk.

  “Hi,” Takk said.

  “When we’re in POW camp, you’re going to have some interesting tales for me, Harry,” Javna said. “I can tell that already.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Takk said.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Creek said. “Come on, let’s go.” The two moved back up the crowd to their assigned position, Takk creating a bow wave with his size and Creek traveling in his wake.

  Horns blared. The Great Hall doors opened once more. And Narf-win-Getag stepped through, wearing the cape and mantle of his clan.

  Narf-win-Getag did not rush his entrance; he walked slowly and smoothly, directly in the middle of the aisle created by retaining ropes and an audience of four thousand guests and dignitaries. Narf-win-Getag recognized many, as well he should have through decades in the Nidu diplomatic core. His eyes sought and found Jim Heffer and Ben Javna; he nodded to them as he passed and smiled at the memory of having played them rough like cheap violins. With Schroeder out of the way, Narf-win-Getag was free to choose a Nidu administrator for Earth, and was considering auctioning off the position to the highest bidder. Someone would pay handsomely to run an entire planet, even a shithole like Earth.

  At the head of the crowd Narf-win-Getag spied Hubu-auf-Getag on one side, with a phalanx of auf-Getags, and Harry Creek and Takk on the other. Neither Hubu-auf-Getag nor Harry Creek struck Narf-win-Getag as appropriately fearful in their expressions, although in the case of Creek it might simply be that Narf-win-Getag, even after all that time on Earth, still had trouble with some of the more subtle human expressions. It really didn’t matter. Hubu-auf-Getag and his entire clan would be dealt with soon enough, and as for Creek, Takk, and Robin, he’d already made arrangements for that entire nation to be handled. They’d live; they’d just never leave Nidu. Narf-win-Getag didn’t feel particularly bad about violating the agreement to call off the war on Robin; he’d honored the other three well enough. Especially the last one.

  Narf-win-Getag ascended the dais and as was tradition, recited seventeen stanzas of The Revinu, the Nidu species’ signature epic poem. It didn’t matter which seventeen stanzas, merely that there were seventeen, each stanza representing the seventeen original clans of Nidu, of which win-Getag was one. Then followed the Blessing of the Knife, the Prayer to Clan Ancestors, the Salting of the Altar, a recitation of the Psalm of the Forgiven, and finally the Second Blessing of the Knife, symbolically transforming the weapon into an instrument of peace, a “swords into ploughshares” sentiment that like its human equivalent was generally forgotten before the last echo of the words had faded.

  Now came the actual ceremony, and Narf-win-Getag found that he relished the idea of speaking the words to a ceremony formulated by the auf-Getag clan; in his mouth the words would be like a repudiation of their rule and redemption of the office of Fehen. Or so Narf-win-Getag was fantasizing to himself while Robin, the sheepwoman, had the apparatus for the brain scan placed awkwardly on her head by the priest. This accomplished, she then held out an arm to allow the priest to twist the shunt; her blood to flowed into the trough and past the sensors that sampled the DNA within to find the magic segments that would confirm her identity as an Android’s Dream sheep—the right kind of sheep. Another repudiation of the auf-Getag clan, Narf-win-Getag thought, that he provided her where they could not.

  From far recesses of the Great Hall projectors flared, announcing the acceptance of the Android’s Dream DNA with flaring and beautiful displays of light and color, intended to wrap the presumptive Fehen in a halo of righteous luminescence. The entire altar glowed like polished brass hit by a lighthouse beam, augmenting the light filtering in through the diamond on the roof.

  It appeared to a few of the observers that more of the light focused on Robin than on Narf-win-Getag, but that was likely to be a combination of the simple white robe Robin wore as well as some confusion by the computer as to which of the tall creatures on the altar to highlight (the computer knew well enough not to highlight the priest). Certainly Narf-win-Getag didn’t notice the fact his luminescence was being shared. From discreetly hidden vents the odor of the Fehensul, the flower of the Fehens, wafted into the room, its astringent sweetness the ultimate and most sacred word in the Nidu language of scent.

  The light show settled down and the light coalesced into a single ball that positioned itself between the altar and the audience. Positional audio kicked in and caused sound to come from the ball, sound that eventually resolved into a voice. “Which clan brings the sacrifice?” it asked, in majestically toned Nidu.

  Narf-win-Getag stepped forward, and inhaled deeply to bellow the name of the win-Getag clan, to forever clear the air of the shame the auf-Getag clan brought to the office of the Fehen.

  “The Baker clan!” declared a high, thin, nervous voice, in heavily accented but perfectly acceptable Nidu.

  Narf-win-Getag choked on his declaration and stared at Robin Baker, who he was somewhat surprised to learn was still standing on the altar with him. Narf-win-Getag glared at her, decided that he’d changed his mind and definitely wouldn’t let her live after all, and then took in another breath to declare his clan.

  “What is the bidding of the clan of the sacrifice?” the deep, rich sonorous voice of the computer asked.

  “Give me control of the network!” Robin Baker declared, again in Nidu. “And give Brian Javna complete access!”

  “Whoops, that’s me,” Brian said, and got up from the table, leaving his beer behind. “Thanks for the drink, Andrea.”

  “Anytime,” said Andrea Hayter-Ross, and waved. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  Brian drifted over to an open port on the Nidu computer network, which demanded identification.

  “I’m Brian Javna,” Brian said, “I think you’ve heard of me.” Some automatic part of Brian translated that into something the Nidu network could understand, validate, verify, and accept. And then, as requested, it gave Brian complete access.

  Brian was hit with about 40 trillion watts of pure understanding.

  It’s hard to describe to anyone who is not in fact a sentient computer. But imagine you’re a tapeworm, and then suddenly you’re Goethe. It’s like that. Brian experienced an upward expansion of knowledge, power, intuition, and capability unrivaled by any sentient being anywhere and anytime in the history of the Common Confederation. He didn’t simply have access to the Nidu computer system, which was, by dint of its sheer Orwellian reach into the tiniest crannies of Nidu governmental life, the single most complex computer system yet devised. He became the Nidu computer system, searing through it at the speed of light and joyously feeling its power and information become his own. There was no word for what Brian was feeling, so he made one up.

  Infogasm.

  Oh, boy, Brian thought.That’s the sort of thing that will kill you if you do it more than o
nce. Brian savored the feeling for just a few cycles more, and then did what he came to do.

  High above Nidu and Earth, six Glar destroyer captains and crews were shocked to find they were suddenly locked out of their controls, and that their ships had minds of their own.

  Across Nidu space, every Nidu ship lost its defensive and offensive weapons. Individual Nidu soldiers lost control of their cars, their planes, their rifles and weapons. Vehicles in use rolled to a stop or landed at the first safe opportunity.

  On every CC planet the Nidu had embassies, diplomatic workers banged their terminals in frustration as screens went blank and reports, applications, and communication ground to a halt. In Nidu space, all government work not related to keeping people alive also similarly ground to a halt. Nidu schools were excused for the day. Nidu children very nearly rioted with joy.

  All of this happened in the time it takes for a sharp intake of breath.

  “Jesus, this is fun,” Brian said, and went to go make a very special appearance.

  From her vantage point outside the Nidu system, Andrea Hayter-Ross watched as the network took on a shape and configuration that reflected Brian. There was no doubt it was him.

  “I remember him when he was just an IBM,” Hayter-Ross said, and sipped her tea.

  The bloom of light between the altar and the audience stretched, twisted, and took form.

  “Oh my God,” Ben Javna said. “It’s Brian.”

  Brian turned to Robin and spoke in English, loud enough for the entire audience to hear. “It’s done,” he said. “The Nidu computer network is yours and awaits your command. You are now Fehen of Nidu, Robin Baker.”

  The Great Hall erupted. For once, it was only barely large enough to hold the commotion.

  “Thank you, Brian,” Robin said, though the chaos. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Brian said.

  “Fehen?” Narf-win-Getag bellowed. “I am Fehen!”

  “You’re not,” Brian said, turning toward Narf-win-Getag. “Because I am the Nidu computer network, and you, sir, are not the boss of me.”

  Narf-win-Getag disconnected from any pretense of civility and lunged at Robin Baker. From his distant position in the audience, Takk moved futilely to intercept. But it was Brian who blocked Narf-win-Getag; he activated the directional audio of the Great Hall to send a 180-decibel blast directly at Narf-win-Getag’s head. Narf-win-Getag went down screaming in pain; Takk, reaching the altar, grabbed the fallen Nidu and hurled him bodily off the dais. The Great Hall erupted again.

  “Brian,” Creek said in a conversational tone, since he knew Brian could hear him. “Please amplify my voice so everyone can hear me.”

  “You’re on,” Creek head Brian say, as if he were in his ear. “Don’t do any singing. They’re panicked enough.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Creek said, and he could hear whispers of his words being pitched to the members of the audience in their own language through the directional audio. “Please, be calm. Please calm down. Explanations are coming.”

  Eventually the crowd noise died down, and Creek stepped out in front of the altar.

  “My name is Harry Creek,” he said. “The Nagch stepping on Narf-win-Getag is Takk. The woman on the stage is Robin Baker. We are the nation of Robin Baker, recognized by the Common Confederation. And she is now Fehen of Nidu, as allowed by the laws of Nidu itself.” The crowd erupted yet again; Harry moved to silence them once more.

  Hubu-auf-Getag stepped forward out of his phalanx of clansmen. “I am Hubu-auf-Getag, the true Fehen of Nidu,” he said in English, to the crowd and to Creek. “This woman cannot be the Fehen of the Nidu. If for no other reason that she is not Nidu.”

  “By your laws and by the coronation procedure your own clan set forth, she does not need to be,” Creek said. “Your coronation ceremony requires merely an Android’s Dream sheep. Robin Baker has that DNA in her.”

  “If she has the Android’s Dream DNA, then by Nidu law she is the property of the clan of auf-Getag,” Hubu-auf-Getag said. “And a member of that clan must be Fehen.”

  “In this case, Nidu law is superseded by Common Confederation law, which declared Robin Baker a new species of sentient being and her own nation under Common Confederation law,” Creek said. “As a member of the Common Confederation Nidu is bound to respect her sovereignty and can make no claim on her. You know this, since it was your own government’s suit that caused the CC to rule for her.”

  “A suit whose idea came from Narf-win-Getag,” Hubu-auf-Getag said, staring down at the fallen ambassador, who was pinned by Takk’s leg on his back.

  “Who was at the time a representative of your government,” Creek said. “And still is, I suppose.”

  “Not anymore,” Robin said, and turned to Narf-win-Getag, who was pinned under Takk’s foot. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Dismissal noted,” said Brian.

  “This is an invasion!” Hubu-auf-Getag said, trying a new tack. “You have attacked us and taken control of our network by illegal means.”

  “It is not an invasion,” Creek said. “We were transported here by a Nidu ambassador in a Nidu vessel and participated by invitation in the coronation ceremony.”

  Narf-win-Getag spoke up from the floor. “Under false pretense!” he rasped, as Takk’s foot was limiting his lung capacity.

  “The ambassador is mistaken,” Creek said. “We agreed to come to Nidu to take part in the coronation ceremony. We didn’t specify that in doing so the crown would fall to him.”

  “It is still an act of war,” Hubu-auf-Getag said.

  “If it is, it is defensive,” Creek said. “When a Nidu gunship attacked a civilian UNE vessel carrying Miss Baker and me, the Nidu marines who demanded to board specifically served notice to the captain of the ship that Nidu had declared war on Robin Baker. As was recently noted to me by your ambassador, Nidu outnumbers Miss Baker’s nation by three billion to one. A declaration of war on a single person—even if she is her own nation—seems excessive. By the laws of the Common Confederation, Miss Baker, as a sovereign nation, has the right to defend herself against an aggressor.”

  This last bit caused rumbling in the audience. Hubu-auf-Getag glanced back and read the mood in the room. Then he turned back to Creek. “Let’s you and I talk without the crowd listening in, if you please,” he said. Creek nodded and had Brian cut his amplification. The crowd moaned in irritation, but stayed calm.

  “Even if all you say is true,” Hubu-auf-Getag said. “There is the matter of the three billion to one to consider. The Nidu will never follow a sheepwoman.”

  Creek smiled. “Hubu-auf-Getag, surely you of all people know that it’s not necessary to have the love of the masses, merely the ability to control them,” Creek said. “We have control of the Nidu computer network. Which means we have control of your government and your military. Until you recognize her as Fehen, you’re not going to get anything done.”

  Hubu-auf-Getag leaned in closer to Creek. “Your clan is small. If something were to happen to your so-called Fehen, there are only two of you remaining. A motivated clan—the win-Getags, say—could put an end to your rule in short order.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Brian said, and projected himself over to Hubu-auf-Getag. “I’ve forgotten my introductions. I’m Brian Javna, and since the Fehen let me into your network, I’ve become the network. I’m self-contained and sentient, and I’m also a member of Robin Baker’s clan. So if you kill Robin and Harry and Takk, there’s still me. And you can’t kill me.”

  “Don’t count on that,” Hubu-auf-Getag said, in Nidu.

  “Wherever you go, there I am,” Brian said to Hubu-auf-Getag, also in Nidu. “Remember that when your get into your next networked vehicle, Hubu-auf-Getag.”

  “No matter how you want to look at it, Robin Baker has a legitimate claim to the title of Fehen,” Creek said, leading the discussion back from disembodied threats. “Your ascension rules allowed it. Your government’s actions p
rovoked it. Your ambassador’s scheming set it in motion. It’s all bad news for you, I’m afraid.”

  Hubu-auf-Getag glared at Creek. “Do you enjoy bringing bad news?”

  “I don’t enjoy it,” Creek said. “But it is my job. I’m good at it.”

  “This is not right,” Hubu-auf-Getag said.

  This got Robin’s attention. “Right? Right?” she said, and stalked over to Hubu-auf-Getag. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “It’s entirely right. Because of you, people have spent the last two weeks trying to kill me or kidnap me or sacrifice me so they can rule this crappy little planet of yours. You’ve tried to kill my friends. You’re planning to attack and occupy my planet. This is the only way to get you to stop. Do you think I want to rule your planet? Do you think I have even the smallest concern about what you people do here? I could not care less. All I want is to go home and get back to my life. This the only way I know that I’ll get to do it.”

  Hubu-auf-Getag paused to consider her words. “Perhaps we can reach some accommodation,” he said.

  “Sure,” Robin said. “We can start by you recognizing that I am your Fehen. Your clan made the rules. I followed them. I am ruler here. Don’t bother trying to use any of your household appliances until you’re ready to accept that.”

  Hubu-auf-Getag snarled and stalked away toward his phalanx.

  “I don’t think their household appliances are networked,” Creek said to Robin.

  “Who cares? It still seemed to work,” Robin said.

  Ben Javna had by this time made his way to the head of crowd. Creek waved at him to come through.

  “I’ve got a message from Heffer, but first you have to tell me something,” Ben said. “Brian—”

  “It’s really him, Ben,” Creek said. “Part of him anyway. I’ll explain it you later.”

  “You’re right about that,” Javna said.

  “What does Heffer have to say?” Creek asked.