by C. Gockel
“You have a friend who wants to see you in the World Sphere.”
“The World Sphere?” 6T9 said, snapping to attention. The research at the World Sphere could affect the lives of billions. He did have to talk to the doctor, but not immediately. “Bring them on,” 6T9 said.
The mindscape shimmered, and in the gray nothingness, he saw a gray something. It was a room made of dark stone. Windows were on every side, the glass-like material in them cracked but still in place. Through them he could just make out the dim orange light of the alien graveyard. In the center of the room was a table of crystals. Leaning over the table, back to him, was an avatar he recognized. “JackHAMR?” 6T9 said, letting his avatar climb to its feet.
Jack turned to him and snapped a salute. “Android General 1, sir!” The avatar Jack wore was the exact replica of the human android body he’d worn when 6T9 had first met him at the bar all those decades ago. Jack had been a simple construction ‘bot before the gates stuck a Q-comm between his gears without his human operators being aware. When Jack chose to turn in his construction ‘bot form for a human form, he’d wanted to look like his blue-collar former operators. He was taller than 6T9, broader in the shoulder, with a face that was too wide, a broken nose, perpetual stubble, a bit of a sunburn, and straight brown hair that tended to hang in front of his eyes.
6T9 waved a hand. “Jack, uh…no need to be over-dramatic.”
Jack’s shoulders fell. “Sir?”
“The salute, the nickname, the ‘sir’…it was funny at first.”
“Funny? Sir? Did I do it wrong?” Jack’s eyes were wide, there were creases in his brow, and unless Jack’s expression apps were malfunctioning, he had hurt feelings.
6T9 was designed not to hurt feelings. “Your salute was excellent.”
Jack’s shoulders loosened, and he smiled. “That’s good, sir. We drew straws to see who got to meet with you—”
And you lost was on the tip of 6T9’s tongue, but his Q-comm was sparking, and he held it back.
“—and I won.” Jack rolled on his feet. “It’s quite an honor to deliver a report to the machine who first contacted The One—”
In point of fact, Carl’s species, The One, had contacted 6T9.
“—outwitted the Luddeccean Guard,” Jack continued. “Rescued a second new species—”
He was referring to Sundancer, who had rescued 6T9 in the end.
“—discovered the World Sphere and saved the survivors of Time Gate 33.”
It was just too much. “I had a lot of help with all of those,” 6T9 said, his voice falling into the same one he used for Dom routines.
“And you are modest.” Jack shook his head. “You are the most famous machine among machines in the galaxy. You are a hero.”
“I’m not designed for heroics,” 6T9 countered, his jaw tight.
“Which is why it is all the more remarkable,” Jack said. “You remind us that we are more than the machines we were programmed to be. You give us hope, sir.”
Static buzzed uncomfortably beneath 6T9’s skin. Jack was wrong…on the other hand, crushing hope was not his first fallback routine, or his second or third under most circumstances. He was a sex ‘bot. He was designed for hope and fantasy. He had to play along. Exhaling, 6T9 surveyed the grim surroundings. “You have something to report?”
“Yes, sir!” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…I mean…nothing definitive, but you being who you are, we really wanted you to see it. It’s very exciting to us, you know, we value your opinion, and—”
6T9’s lips tightened. Mechs and ratchets, had he been dragged from the real world to receive an in-depth report on alien toothpaste? “Spit it out, soldier.”
“Yes, sir!” Jack said. Spinning back to the table, he said, “Based on Volka’s reports, we searched for crystal data storage devices, and we have been successful, sir.”
Volka’s dream had been real—a biological mindscape. “And?” 6T9 approached the table. It was honeycomb shaped with similarly shaped compartments set with crystals. At the center of the table was a large crystal that was roughly spherical, but had a multitude of sharp projections. “Do you have an estimate for when you’ll be able to access the data?”
Looking up at him, Jack flushed. “We’ve already accessed this data, sir. What I’m about to show you in this mindscape is an exact replica of our discoveries so far.”
6T9’s breath caught. “Well done.” Cracking into an alien computer was an accomplishment—even if it only yielded data on what the aliens used for soap.
Jack blushed. “It’s not our genius that allowed us to do it, sir. It’s as though the beings who built this particular interface wanted it to be easily accessible. It was simple to power, and there was no security whatsoever. We doubt it will be useful to us directly, but we hope it will allow us to learn the language.” He took a crystal out of one honeycomb, placed it in another, and the central crystal sphere lit up. Light flickered from its projections and the room’s walls were covered in interlinked symbols that reminded 6T9 of the English cursive “o,” but with the links on the bottom, not the top. They leaned toward the left, which suggested that they were written left-handed and from right to left, but of course that was only the weakest of extrapolation without studying the aliens’ anatomy more closely.
Jack said, “We think the variance in size represents different symbols, and you can see that some are swirls and others are filled. Also, notice how some circles are encompassed by other circles, all linked at the bottom. We’ve catalogued no fewer than 100,000,000 symbols, although some could be the same symbol just written by a different hand, or in a different font. We’re not sure yet.”
“It’s still extraordinary you’ve come this far so quickly.” His Q-comm sparked.
Jack blushed again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!”
“Do you have any instances where imagery and text are combined?” Before he’d had his Q-comm, he’d minded children. Some of their books had simplistic pictures with text directly underneath for teaching them their own language. “If you could find a children’s book equivalent, it could be your Rosetta Stone,” he mused.
Clearing his throat, Jack said, “There is a lot of imagery. None of it remotely like a children's book. At least not at this computer station.” He pulled out the crystal, the room went dark, and then he replaced it with another. Instead of symbols, the room was flooded with images of the aliens. They were just as Volka and Carl had described them—lithe, blue, with feathers streaming from their heads instead of hair. However, Volka and Carl had described the aliens as clothed. The thirty aliens projected around 6T9 were all in varying stages of undress and were undulating around the room in a sensuous dance. None of the aliens appeared to have mammary glands, even of the vestigial sort that male mammals had. They did have muscles similar to the pectorals in that region however, so their upper torsos looked very much like human males without nipples. At the level of the navel, fifteen of the aliens had a short protrusion, perhaps two centimeters long and two centimeters wide. Anatomy was always interesting to 6T9, and his circuits hummed pleasantly and his Q-comm lit.
“We have dissected some of the remains,” Jack said. “The protrusions in their lower torsos appear to be for feeding the young. Only the males have them.”
6T9’s eyes dropped lower and saw that, indeed, the aliens with the torso protrusions had external genitalia that resembled human males in size if not precisely in shape.
“They have internal gonads,” Jack said, answering 6T9’s unasked question.
The females had hips that were as narrow as the males. Their external genitalia were hairless but otherwise identical to human females. A few had bellies that were slightly distended, but not greatly so, and as they sashayed around the room, they lifted their arms above their heads, moving without the heavy gait of pregnant humans.
“They produce egg-like structures,” Jack said. “We found a few clutches. The eggs are made of a thick membrane that stre
tches after being laid. The eggs are oblong but narrow, only about twelve centimeters in circumference initially, but then expand to a circumference of sixty-eight centimeters and a length of seventy-five centimeters, gaining mass at the same time.”
The aliens were human enough to be desirable to 6T9’s sex ‘bot programming, but his Q-comm was demanding. “How is it possible for eggs to gain mass? It would be impossible by the laws of physics, let alone biology.”
“They’re egg-like,” Jack said, stressing the second word. “They have a proto-pharynx that allows consumption of nutrients.” He nodded at the wall and the swaying figures. “We’re getting to the part you’re really going to like.”
6T9’s gaze shifted back to the aliens just in time to see them collapse into groups of three. They petted each other’s hair and kissed each other’s necks in groups of every combination—all male, all female, and mixed. Some moved languidly, others frantically, and the threesomes coalesced into groups of six, and then two of those groups became twelve.
6T9’s synth skin flushed, and his hardware came alive. Transfixed, 6T9 walked closer to one of the projections. He reached out to touch the helplessly entangled feathers of an alien man, man, and woman—and of course only touched light. The aliens fell on one another, pushing each other against walls, rolling together on the floor, adopting every position, and all acts imaginable, and some that even 6T9 hadn’t imagined. Their feathers were obviously erogenous zones, as were the navel projections.
Jack spoke over his shoulder. “You once told me thirty percent of data transfers are porn…well, sixty percent of the data we’ve found is like this. Sometimes they don’t bother to start with the dance. They are, or were, as far as we can tell, completely polygamous and bisexual.”
Completely bisexual and polygamous? 6T9 was sure he was built for the wrong species. He exhaled. This wondrous species had been utterly destroyed by the Dark. He idly traced the cheek of a woman. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted in an expression of ecstasy. Or maybe it was pain. Or both. Whatever. She was in no hurry for it to end…but it had ended. These wondrous creatures were all gone.
Jack said, “Their egg clutches show no pure siblings, lots of half siblings.” He scratched the side of his head. “They never have sex in pairs in the imagery. It’s always three or more.”
“I would like to review all of the data you’ve uncovered on their sexual practices,” 6T9 said to Jack. “For science.”
He didn’t hear Jack’s response because the world had gone white.
Volka held Sixty’s hand. “Sixty, come back!” she whispered. He was sitting on the gray ground-cover, arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes were open and staring at nothing. She reached up and gently closed them. Leaning close to his chest, she heard the familiar hum.
The doctor rushed out of the embassy, Carl ahead of her.
“Someone needs me?” the doctor said.
Still clasping Sixty’s hand, Volka said, “He was coming to get you and all of a sudden he just stopped.”
The doctor gaped and her delicate brow furrowed. With curly strawberry blonde hair and golden skin with darker freckles over her nose, she looked to be in her twenties, but was probably much older. “I’m not a mechanic.”
“We don’t have a android doctor here?” Volka asked in dismay.
The doctor spread her hands. “We weren’t anticipating a android being at the embassy.”
Starcrest came out of the back door. “What’s going on?”
“Sixty’s semi-shut down,” Volka replied.
“Well, fix him,” said Starcrest. “Stella Tudor has managed to get senior staff permission to attend a formal dinner she is hosting this evening, and she specifically asked for the 6T9 unit to come along, too. Or rather, for Stephen Niano to come along.”
Carl’s thoughts intruded in Volka’s mind. “Do I want to know how that happened between Stella and 6T9?”
“No,” Volka answered aloud.
Raising his head, Starcrest asked everyone in earshot, “Does anyone at this embassy have experience with androids?”
The closest Marine lifted a hand. “I do, sir, with this sort.”
“Well, get over here,” Starcrest said.
The Marine jogged over.
Carl’s thoughts tickled Volka’s mind. “Ask him what sort of experience.” It could have been Volka’s imagination, but she swore Carl’s thoughts felt distinctly dry. “What sort of experience?” she asked.
The Marine flushed scarlet.
“Look at me, unsurprised,” Carl muttered into her mind, which was when Volka tied together what Carl was getting on about. The Marine had experience with sex ‘bots.
“Well?” said Starcrest.
“Have you tried turning him off and on again?” the Marine asked.
Volka was pretty sure everyone blinked in unison at that suggestion.
“Why don’t we hit him with a hammer while we’re at it?” Carl telepathically grumbled.
Still flushing, the Marine continued, “I’m not errr…familiar…with this particular model, but most of them have a kill switch somewhere.”
“It’s worth a try, I suppose,” said Starcrest.
“No one’s touching his switch!” Volka said, wrapping an arm protectively around Sixty and glaring up at Starcrest.
There was a whir that she felt in her arm rather than heard, and then Sixty said, “Alas, that is true.”
“Do you want me to find that kill switch and flip it for you?” Carl asked.
Too relieved to be angry, Volka said, “Sixty, you’re back!”
“Yes, one moment.” He turned to the doctor. “I think you need to test the embassy staff for nutritional deficiencies. I’m not sure everyone is suited to a vegetarian diet.”
As he spoke, Volka chanced a glance up and saw the Marine staring at the raw beef she’d left on the platter in the same sort of unconscious way men watched pretty girls. Her eyebrows rose.
“Alrightttt…” said the doctor. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” Sixty’s eyes dropped to Volka. “I had a meeting with Time Gate 1 and one of the ‘bots at the World Sphere.”
Volka stared at him blankly, but then Carl explained telepathically, “Imagine one of Sundancer’s illusions—it’s like that, but the mechanism is mechanical rather than biological. Someday I believe that we’ll be able to combine those mental spaces. Isssh disagrees, but he is a technophobic Luddeccean snob.”
“Have they learned anything?” Volka asked.
“Yes,” Sixty put a hand on her arm. “They found the crystal computers you saw in Sundancer’s memory and were able to access recorded imagery. Some of it was of their writing.”
Volka’s heart leapt. “Have they deciphered it?”
Sixty frowned. “No, even for computers that will take a while. The written data doesn’t correspond with visual data—at least not in the samples they’ve found. They have found evidence of the aliens’ culture, though, Volka.”
Pushing his bangs back with his hand, his expression became wistful and somber. “They were wonderful. Completely bisexual, polygamous, and from what they can tell, extremely promiscuous. I watched a recording of an orgy of thirty of them. It was…beautiful.”
Volka sat back on her heels. “Oh…that’s…” What? They were aliens, not humans. God had different rules for werfles than for humans—werfles lived in families with three adults—a nursing female, egg-laying female, and a male. No one called them evil for that. Of course, could a werfle not inhabited by The One know good and evil? That was what really set animals apart from humans in the Three Books. Could Sixty know good and evil? He could not kill, and was bisexual, polygamous, and promiscuous by design.
“The word ‘beautiful’ doesn’t do it justice. Divine…it was divine.” Sixty’s forehead crumpled. “And the Dark destroyed them.”
Volka’s lips pursed.
Clearing his throat, the ambassador said, “We’ve been invited to Stella Tudor’s f
or a dinner party. I trust you will not speak of these aliens, or anyone bisexual, polygamous, and promiscuous as divine in their presence. Volka can correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe it might be considered heresy.”
Wincing, Volka admitted, “It would. Just mentioning aliens would be dangerous.”
Face very serious, 6T9 said, “I won’t mess this up. I won’t let humans suffer the same fate.”
Volka smiled wryly. “…As undivine as we are?”
“Precisely.” Standing up, Sixty said, “I presume formal dress?”
Starcrest nodded. “You presume right.”
Sixty headed off, but Volka stayed on the ground. Sixty’s “antics” had gotten them an invitation out of the compound after all.
“You too, Volka,” Starcrest said.
Her ears shot forward, and she looked up at him in alarm. “What?”
“You’re a member of my senior staff,” said Starcrest.
Volka’s heart beat faster in her chest. “Sir, I thought the idea was to avoid heresy. I’m a weere, sir.”
Starcrest stared down at her a long moment, and Volka imagined him running some complicated set of equations behind his eyes. “As far as I can see, a weere at a private formal dinner doesn’t violate any laws, religious or otherwise.”
“But it violates customs, sir,” Volka said. “Which are just as important.”
“Do you think that Mrs. Tudor has weere on her staff?” Starcrest asked.
“Yes, I have no doubt,” Volka said.
Starcrest sighed. “Volka, you must come if we are to fulfill your primary objective.” He dropped his voice to almost a whisper and met her eyes. “We need the weere to know that the Republic will treat them as equals.”
Volka didn’t really feel that Starcrest saw her as an equal—she wasn’t linked to the ether and she was uneducated—but at least one of those she could change, and the Republic would let her and any weere do that.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ll do my best, sir.” But her mind filled with all the ways it could go wrong as Starcrest walked away. Carl must have been listening in because he said, “Oh, I’d be more worried about all the ways you can’t imagine it going wrong. The unknown unknowns, the things that you can’t imagine are the worst.”
