The snowman had leaned forward to pick up the poker and pass it to Falcon. “Here. Take it.”
“I did enough damage just now, didn’t I? Besides, they’ll either have seen the drop in the neutrinos or they won’t. Doing it again won’t make any difference.”
“You misunderstand my intention. That was a mere demonstration of what is possible. Now for something subtler. If the solar neutrinos can be stopped, they can also be modulated. When you hold the poker with one end in the fire, your words will be imprinted on the neutrino flux, like sound waves on air. A message that can be decoded. Think on your words carefully.” He glanced at Adam. “Make this a joint statement. You will be addressing Machines as well as people. Both must grasp the severity of the moment.”
Still with great trepidation, Falcon closed his fingers around the end of the poker. But he did not yet place the other end in the hearth. “What are the terms to be? Another ceasefire? It’ll hold about as long as all the rest.”
“Something more permanent,” the snowman suggested. “A separation of territories, at least for the time being.”
“We tried that,” Adam said. “At the end of the twenty-second century we Machines left the inner solar system altogether. It’s never worked. There are resources we both covet. We chafe against each other’s borders.”
“Then the borders need to be redefined. There are more worlds than the planets of the sun.” The snowman gestured around at the firelit parlour of the little cottage. “From Jupiter Within, Adam, you have already walked to the heart of a star. Now, a thousand other worlds lie within your reach. Worlds beyond your solar system. Worlds like Jupiter: most heavier and hotter, but almost all of them have ecologies of one sort or another. Some are simple. Others are . . . shall we say interestingly complex?”
“Extrasolar Jovians,” Adam guessed. “Hot Jupiters—”
“They are yours for the choosing. The First Jovians have established lines of dialogue with some of the occupants of these worlds—but not all, in some cases the conceptual gulfs are too vast. You would bring fresh perspectives, fresh approaches—fresh ways of thinking. The First Jovians think you could be valuable. In turn, you would need to learn empathy. I have seen the glimmerings of it in you, Adam.”
“What are you proposing?” the robot asked.
“Most of your kin are already inside Jupiter. Call the others home. From the Kuiper Belt, from the Oort cloud, from your Host around the sun—summon your lonely warriors. Tell them the solar system is theirs no more, but that prizes beyond imagining await inside Jupiter Within. Make the case persuasively—you’ll only have this one chance. And you, Falcon . . .”
“Yes?”
“Let no human interfere with the Machine migration. Give them free passage. Open the cordon around Jupiter. And make it plain that all military action must now cease. If humans obey these stipulations, you will have lost Jupiter and its great treasures . . .”
And the medusae, Falcon thought wistfully.
“But the rest of the solar system is yours. The separation need not be forever. Say—a thousand years? You can agree the terms yourselves. A trial separation. Then envoys of people and Machines may meet again.”
Falcon said, “It must be together—you and I, Adam. But what if they don’t heed our words? The human governments, the Machine collectives—they may not listen.”
“You will be speaking in pulses of modulated neutrinos,” the snowman pointed out dryly. “Issuing a proclamation from the heart of the sun. I think they will listen.”
Falcon stood. “Very well.” He beckoned Adam to stand to his right. Adam closed his metal fingers around the poker just below Falcon’s childish hand. Slowly they advanced the poker into the crackle and blaze of the hearth, this time being careful not to stir the fire.
“We speak?” Falcon asked. “That’s all we have to do?”
“Speak,” the snowman said, with a wave of encouragement.
Falcon cleared his throat.
“Hello,” he said, with all the formality he could muster. His voice was still absurdly high, piping and boyish, lacking any authority. He wondered what his audience would make of it, then smiled at his own misgivings. “This is Commander Howard Falcon, USN, speaking from inside the sun. Ephemeris Time . . . frankly I have no idea. With me is Adam of the Machines. We have come a long way together, and we have something important to tell you. And by that we mean all of you. People and Machines. Wherever you are.
“Please listen carefully—oh, and please tell the Brenner Institute there is life in Jupiter Within. And it’s big . . .”