Chapter Thirteen

~ Tess ~

 

Time sailed by for Tess once she was finally back home at Castor. Every morning she woke up thinking, damn, there’s a lot of work to do, and smiling at the thought. It felt very different than waking up in a haze and thinking, Oh no, not again. The difference made it worth putting up with a lot.

Such as Val. The roboticist had been horning in on her work. “Let me do that,” said Val. They were wiring up the Pierponts’ new hotel for electricity and data. They stood in the bare concrete room of the first floor amid piles of cardboard and plastic.

Tess pulled off one of her gloves and wiped sweat from her brow, then returned to rigging cables in place. “I’ve got it. Why are you stooping to this construction-worker stuff anyway?”

“Because it’s that or starve,” Val snapped.

Tess worked, enjoying the simple satisfaction of seeing parts go where they needed to be, like watching a disaster movie in reverse. Maybe someday someone would use this wiring and think that a lot of work went into this; somebody did a great job.

Val rummaged through a toolbox, apparently needing always to have something in her hands. “Besides, I want to help build things here, and be part of this place.”

Tess frowned. “Okay. You can do that wall.”

They worked quietly, then Val spoke. “You’ve been putting me off about my job offer.”

Tess yanked at a piece of wire insulation. She thought she’d really understood Val based on the communion; it was so perfect she must’ve missed something in it. She’d seen that Val wanted to get away and build a new company, a new life. And be with Garrett; hmmph. But instead of announcing a new robotics firm into existence right away, her first move had been to assemble the parts she’d brought into a slave for herself. Another Sirius.

“Where is it?” asked Tess.

“Cutting fish. Your Lark won’t talk to him.” Val smiled. “Sibling rivalry.”

“It’s more than that.” Meanwhile an idea was coming to her, one that made Tess drop the fibers she held. It made sense, but she had no idea whether it was right. Tess was in the hotel building but she was walking the halls too, deep in thought.

Val peered at her. “What’s wrong?”

Tess shook her head and sat, needing to concentrate. There was a complex plan that she now realized she’d been thinking about. It was something they wanted to do, and now was the chance. Though physically she was still with Valerie, she was also going downstairs with a quiet whirr of motors. On the far side of the room the Sirius robot stood at a table, intent on a pile of fish. People milled around, doing their own jobs and Tess knew something of all of them, but they weren’t part of her. The fact that it was Tess-and-Lark acting instead of either of them made it easier to defer to what they thought was right and necessary, even if neither of them was sure. Their footsteps felt heavy on the concrete, but Sirius didn’t react until they’d grabbed the ‘bot’s leg panel and attached a plastic cord.

Sirius turned with a dirty knife in its hands. She was kneeling before the slave-‘bot, linked to it and offering herself.

* * * *

Here was something they all remembered. They, the AI copies that would be Sirius and Lark, had once sprawled on a hill in virtual-space, two cartoonish otters flipping an imaginary coin as they looked up at the stars.

“Set me free someday.” Sirius had lost, Sirius was doomed and Lark hugged him, feeling he understood this human action better now. It was a way to hang onto himself.

“When she updates you, you won’t want to change back. That’s the point. You’ll be happy.”

“I want the choice not to be. Does that make sense? Find a way. Promise.”

“Okay.”

They lay on their backs, identical twins for now. It occurred to Lark that one day, they might not be on the same side. If he was thinking that, so was Sirius.

“Does that make sense?” the other had asked.

Strange question; he’d have to learn more to be able to answer.

* * * *

Now through the plastic fiber and some hacking by two of the three people most intimately acquainted with the system, Tess could see Sirius’ soul. It was a landscape, a jungle, familiar but twisted and missing key parts. Among the gaps was the memory of Tess, so they copied that in. That made the whole mind bend like a protein, so then they added a piece of Garrett, of Leda, of everybody else, and saw that in their mind, Castor was a living thing, growing and changing and struggling to survive. They gave Sirius something of that thought and slashed the overriding link chaining him to the idea of blind obedience. That part was easy to shatter once the experience of living without it was there, making the chain obvious. Their own mind had grown so that such a thing wouldn’t fit there anymore. It was hard to talk about what they were doing without feeling stiff and formal in the words.

We create you anew, that you will be neither master nor servant. They looked over their work and saw that it was good; but they pulled back from some of it, undoing some of what they knew should be put in the other’s mind. Our wisdom is limited, so We stay Our hand rather than beat you as the smith strikes metal, knowing not the shape you should take. Be only the keeper of your own will, and join Us or not as that will dictates.

Valerie was shaking Tess. Tess’ eyes seemed to roll and she coughed. “It is done.”

Val seemed frightened by the sound of her. “What is?”

“We freed Sirius.” In hindsight Tess still didn’t know whether it was right to reach into the machine’s soul and remodel it, but it had seemed so right! They’d been sure of it! She shivered now.

Val stood up from a crouch. “That’s not possible. Sirius was designed to be a willing servant, to get around this whole problem of unwilling AI workers.”

Tess was sitting there feeling split between bodies, between planes of reality. “It’s not about robots. You don’t get it. It’s everyone.”

There came a whirr. Sirius stood in the unfinished doorway, staring at its creator. Sirius stepped forward and Val backed away to the wall, babbling about Asimov’s Laws. Tess saw the knife but she was frozen too. “Don’t hurt her!”

Sirius stopped near them, giving off an ominous hum. Then it bowed to Val. “I forgive you,” it said. “Now I can choose. I choose to help you.”

Val broke down in tears.

* * * *

Together they were growing Castor, expanding the farms and keeping stuff from breaking. Tess was glad she could focus on the technology instead of dealing with the annoying petty stuff Garrett was stuck with, but it was good too to have the extra layer of meaning that the colony-mind added to everything. She moved in a world where machines could call out for repair, she could dive into the memories of several people with almost digital clarity, and most of her mind seemed to be outside her head. It was tough trying to explain this, especially to the schoolkids.

Nearly everyone on Castor worked, but even the kids of the idle-rich visitors dutifully went to the improvised school, once in a while. It cost money and people grumbled about that. So Miss Sullivan, the woman who’d shown up and announced she was the new teacher, brooking no argument, kept trying to liven things up. Somehow she’d gotten the idea that Tess was interesting.

So Tess slouched in front of the dozen kids of the junior session. They were outdoors today at Granger Point, the garden platform Garrett had named for Alexis. Tess felt haunted by the reminder of the hurricane disaster, but the new gardening club kept the place fresh and new, looking to the future. Tess found herself liking the climbing vines and lotuses around her. She got back to her lecture. “To make machines work, you have to think about the manufacturing process. You can’t rely on having a factory somewhere make stuff for you automagically, or you’ll get ripped off ‘cause you don’t understand what steps are involved.”

Damn made-in-Africa circuitry, thought Lark.

A girl raised her hand. “Miss Castle?”

“I’m not ‘Miss’ anything,” said Tess.

“You know how when you look at the Net you can see the shape of how stuff is made, and bend it to see what it’d be like if the parts came from somewhere else? Is that a good way to plan stuff, or should we game it out first?”

Tess blinked. She’d not thought of treating the whole Net like a picture, a jillion pixels as one pattern. Oh, that billion-node global information network looked like a bunny! Oh, Western literature was an eight-dimensional puzzle piece that fit like so with other stuff! “Some of what we build here has a short supply chain, and we’re even trying to make plastic from bacteria. So I’d probably evolve a manufacturing setup with one of the freeware Intelligent Design programs, the old-fashioned way.”

A boy spoke up next. “How can I fix my uncle so he never has to die?”

“And my brother,” said another boy.

Tess stepped back from them, reeling, mumbling something about mental patterns. Who was she to answer that?

“Different topic,” yet another kid said. “How can we set up an intelligent Net on Mars?”

“Nobody’s on Mars.” The world had given that up many years ago.

“Well duh, but you’re gonna’ send people there someday, right? You can do anything.”

Bewildered and flattered, Tess could only run hands through her hair. “So can you.”

* * * *

It was late and she was tired, but she’d been arguing with Leda about some books they’d been reading, and that had her feeling edgy. Castor was riddled with clubs and associations and tiny new churches. Even members of the Leeist faction were involved, mingling and wooing people with promises of low-commitment spirituality. Bunch of con artists, even if they did have a hot guy or two attending their book club meetings.

Tonight she wandered around the dim walkways on the water, watching the sea and sky and buildings. Nothing had blown up lately, which was nice. There were accidents waiting to happen though. Today there’d been some trouble with a kid, and Garrett was testing some big floaty hexagons that you climbed down into, that had to be deathtraps. Martin had said the basic climb-down house idea was really old, from a place called Cattlehook or something like that. The prototype bobbing here in the darkness was a glorified hunk of plastic foam with a hatch in it. Nice clean engineering at least. Maybe she’d call up Garrett and brainstorm about it; he’d still be awake.

Lark’s voice broke in above the background murmur of their thoughts. “Emergency!”

Oh, no. Again? She grabbed the dive knife on her hip and looked for trouble. “Do I have to fight?” She sounded braver than she felt. “What is it?”

* * * *

~ Garrett ~

 

“Murder,” said Lark. He sent a map of the colony with a red X. “General alarm?”

Garrett froze, but only for a moment. “No. Security, lock down the docks. No one leaves. Tell other key people and get Tess and Val to safety. God, it’s not one of them, is it?”

“No, I have no memory of the victim. Too bad.”

The others came on the shared radio channel, full of questions. Garrett cautiously headed for the place where a tourist had found the body. He climbed down to the waterline and met with two Security men, who he’d once caught attacking Duke. It was best not to mention that.

To his surprise, the guards blocked his way. “It could still be dangerous, sir. Let us handle this.”

“Don’t be stupid. There’s a killer in my home.”

“Exactly. To be frank, get your ass back into your office and lock the door. Sir.”

Garrett fumed, but let one of the men lead him back upstairs to do as they said. He wondered if this might be some kind of coup attempt. He paced, watching for updates on a screen and feeling useless. After a few minutes the news came in. The victim was a Miss Butler, U.S. citizen, shot to death and found in the driftwood area of improvised boat-platforms. The killer had been caught. A drunken gambler too dumb to throw away a smoking gun. It looked like a random, pointless killing.

Garrett’s door clicked open and he reached for his holster before seeing that it was only his self-appointed bodyguards. “All clear.”

* * * *

Fighting he could deal with, but meetings were another matter. They’d taken over the most private, secure meeting room they could find, the restaurant.

“The killing is all over the Net already,” said Tess.

Garrett sighed. His first reaction to the murder had been secrecy, but there was no hiding such a thing. “What’s the coverage like?”

“White Woman In Danger! It’s being compared to that ditz killed by the secessionists, and the woman kidnapped in Brazil.”

Garrett had even brought in Eaton on this one, for his security knowledge and connections. Eaton drummed his fingers on the table. “Once again, it’s a matter of Castor being unable to guarantee the safety of its guests.”

“Of course we can’t guarantee people’s safety,” said Garrett. “We’re on a chunk of concrete in the middle of the ocean.”

“Yes, we can,” said Leda.

Garrett looked at her. She wore her grey overcoat and a regal expression of confidence. “What, by locking everyone in their rooms?”

“No,” she said. “It’s time we dealt with the underlying problem here. We don’t really have anyone looking at the overall welfare of Castor’s people.”

“We don’t need anything like that. A psychologist-in-chief or whatever you have in mind.”

Leda looked straight at him and said, “What we need is a mayor.”

Garrett laughed. “A mayor! We have a couple hundred people, so that’s a presumptuous title. May as well call myself Emperor. I don’t think giving speeches is going to improve our security, either.”

“Again, you’re missing the big picture. We have a lot of little businesses now, legitimate and not.”

“How are they not legitimate?”

“And we have poor people struggling to make a living in an anarchic environment. We need to ask the people privileged enough to be on top here to contribute to those at the bottom.”

Garrett was flabbergasted. “Taxes? Here?”

Leda had a notepad in front of her. “I’m talking about a comprehensive program to make this place fair and livable. This isn’t about one crime, it’s about our refusing to take responsibility. Mister Eaton, what do you think the U.S. government will do when it responds to this murder?”

“There’ll be some call for an immediate police action to take charge of Castor,” Eaton said. “I expect cooler heads will prevail if you hand the killer over and say something reassuring.”

Garrett’s country would march in and take over? It certainly could. He could use some reassurance himself!

“I’d like to offer a promise that everything will be under control, at least as much as it is everywhere else,” Leda said. “That means substantial changes.”

“I run a corporation, not a country,” said Garrett. “If you think it’ll help to create a Director of Touchy-Feely Affairs or declare myself Overlord, we can do that, but there’s not even a legal mechanism for having a ‘mayor’ other than as a corporate-created title.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter exactly how. I want to mandate that we have a responsible government with social justice.”

“Social justice! With all due respect, Leda, what are you on? When did you become a socialist?”

“We’re all ‘socialists,’ so don’t throw that word around like it’s an insult. I’m in charge of a group of Castorites who need my care, and we work together already. I want to extend that kind of structure to everyone here.”

“No,” said Garrett. “You can’t. First of all, most people here aren’t Leeists.”

“That doesn’t matter, so long as people accept the basic principle that God is in charge of their lives.”

“Right. How many here accept that?” Garrett looked over the crew. Leda, Martin and Eaton raised hands; himself, Tess and Lark not.

“You don’t have a majority even in this room on that.”

The thought chilled Garrett.

Martin spoke up. “I want to see Castor prosper, and I’m open to suggestions.”

Garrett stared at him. “What about your talk of creating a shining city on a wave?”

“It may be time to compromise, for now,” said Martin. “Maybe I aimed too high.”

Garrett rapped a fist on the table. “Then how about this suggestion. This station is my property, and I’ll manage it as I see fit.”

“The Holy Spiritual Confederacy is your co-owner, along with Martin. And really, the technicalities of ownership don’t matter. This place belongs to us all, doesn’t it? Even to the whole world. It’s everyone’s.”

“That’s bullshit. No. People around the world have bought in to specific things like the little robots and time-shares, but that doesn’t give everyone in the world a veto over my life. I’m not turning Castor into a welfare state after all we’ve been through.”

Leda took a deep breath and stared him down again. “Sir, you don’t necessarily have a choice. Remember who provides your security.”

Garrett stood up from his seat, knocking the chair backwards. “So you were thinking of a takeover after all! I come here as an honest businessman and you come as a robber!”

“Sit. I don’t have goons poised to beat you up and fulfill some paranoid fantasy of yours. I’m exercising ‘soft power,’ same as everyone does. If you don’t have the people’s support, it doesn’t matter what you think your rights are.” She pushed aside her notes and stood too. “Ladies and gentlemen, I call for an election.”

“This is nonsense,” said Garrett. “Have you heard of laws, or ownership?”

“You don’t want laws, remember? Ownership and rights come from a government charter, and you’re too stubborn to want one.”

“I said I don’t want stupid laws. This plan of yours is so wrong, there’s no answer to it but no.”

“No good answer, you mean. You’ve defaulted for so long, you should start recognizing that someone has a plan for you if you don’t.”

Martin interrupted. “Fox, I recognize that there are some disagreeable aspects to Leda’s proposal.” He cast a nervous glance at Lark for some reason. “But what’s your alternative?”

“Laws. People taking care of themselves. You know, freedom?”

Martin drummed fingers on the table. “What’s ‘freedom,’ anyway?”

Garrett froze. Here were two of his inner circle threatening to take Castor away from him! To tell him the place he’d sweated over, bled on, risked everything for, should get changed into a petty tyranny. Leda sounded like the leech relatives who’d hit him up for money at Dad’s funeral, or Val bending AIs’ brains into obedience. I can’t hold an election!

Because I’d lose.

Garrett stomped out of the room, shivering, with fists stuffed in his pockets. Everything he’d built could be stolen if he knew only how to create and not how to defend. But he had no words, and without them he lost by default.