part0132

Rebecca started forward and swept the back of the room with her light. There, in the back, half sunken in the muddy silt, was the gold casing of another Guardian. Its eyes stared up at the low ceiling and she brushed a glove over its chassis. “Hello?” she asked.

“It cannot hear. It does not process anymore. It has served its purpose and is now only the vessel for the rest of the colony. Just as all the other Guardians in distant nests. I have sought each one out and they are all the same,” said Issk’ath, its legs squelching through the water behind her.

“What’s wrong with them?” asked Rebecca, gently rubbing the dried mud from its blank eyes with her glove.

“Wrong? Nothing. They have not experienced malfunction. It is as the creators intended.”

Rebecca turned to look up at Issk’ath, its eyes bright with interior light, its chassis a glowing sky of stars. “Then why are you different?”

“Because, unlike the others, I have experienced a malfunction.”

“What happened?”

“When we took the colony, some resisted. I have told you of this. It was not optimal. Our learning programming dictates that when we perform an action, an iteration runs to replay the decision to take that action. They take the observational information we collect surrounding the action and parse it so that we may develop context. Much like the organic members of our people did. When the iteration is finished, we move on with the next action or decision. For example, when this conversation is finished, I will run an iteration on my words and your reaction to them. It will inform me how better to approach you in future conversations. Most of the iterations are extremely rapid. So much so, that I barely notice them. The other Guardians ran their iterations after their nests were silent. They concluded in their iteration that the actions they took were warranted and justified, so they proceeded to their next task. Which was termination, until such time as something came to retrieve the colony or threatened its continued existence within them. But my iteration— it has not ended. There is a problem in my programming. Something that causes the iteration to loop constantly. It keeps me from termination.”

“So if this iteration makes you reflect on your actions— are you saying you feel guilty Issk’ath?” asked Rebecca. Alice and Spixworth paused in their work to look over at them.

“My purpose was to protect the colony. I have done that. They are safe. And yet— we removed their ability to choose for themselves. We have intervened and terminated their free will. It is the first law of our people. How can what we’ve done be right and also violate the first law? Before you came, I began to think I ought to seek out another colony. Another people to give me purpose. To drown the iteration in new data. Acquiring new data is the only thing that seems to push it into the background processes. You, your colony, is a wealth of data. Enough to push the iteration back for many, many mating seasons. But then Dorothy showed me where you had come from. The choices your people made.” Issk’ath swiveled to look at Alice. “Oxwell iterates as I do. She sees the choices of your people as a violation of your laws. But Dorothy has shown me other things. Other choices and actions. She has hope. Hope is illogical. It does not fit the decision process of the Guardians. The history of your people’s path does not justify a belief that it will alter after all this time. But I like this hope. I begin to think it is why I iterated for so long after the others finished. I begin to think I might have chosen differently for the nest, had I included it in the data set. Yes, Emery, I feel guilty.”

“That’s not a malfunction,” said Spixworth, “that’s being alive. My question is not why you have the iteration, but why the others didn’t.”

“If it is not a malfunction, how do I end it? The iteration drains processing power that could be used for other operations. I am slower than I used to be. And— if I decide at some future date that termination is appropriate, how will I accomplish it? I cannot shut down while the iteration runs.”

“You must have had other iterations in the past. You’ve made mistakes before, haven’t you? You said it was part of your learning program.”

“Yes, it is not uncommon for a new Guardian to have many weeks of iterations for different actions.”

“What stops those iterations from recurring?”

“Learning the correct way to perform the action.”

Spixworth whistled. “That’s going to be a tough one to replicate.”

“Maybe not,” said Alice, her face grim. “Not if we settle here.”

“I am unconvinced that I chose the wrong action. The others successfully terminated. And we chose together.”

“It might have been the right choice for the other Guardians, but it was not the right choice for you,” said Rebecca. “For some reason, you encountered more that led you to hope for a different outcome than the others did. And it didn’t fit your equation.”

“Do humans have these iterations?”

“Yes,” said Rebecca with a rueful smile, “in a manner of speaking.”

“And what do they do to end them?”

“We learn, like you. Some of us try to push it aside. Sometimes pushing it aside just ends up hurting us more. We try to atone.”

“Atone? Make reparation? How can I do that? I cannot put the nest back as it was. And there is no equivalent.”

Rebecca tapped Issk’ath’s chassis. “You must ask your colony. They are the people that get to decide how much is enough. Ask them what you ought to do.”

“Thank you, Emery.” Issk’ath sank with a whir and folded its legs in a tight bunch. Its eyes faded to a dull, lightless gold. Golden threads darted across its chassis in a burst of dazzling light.

“Issk’ath?” asked Rebecca. It didn’t respond. She tugged at its legs but they did not move.

“You told it to ask the colony,” said Alice. “It will probably be a lengthy conversation.” She pulled Rebecca away from Issk’ath’s side and beckoned to Spixworth who followed them across the dark room. “We should take advantage of the opportunity,” she whispered. “If we leave now, persuade Al Jahi to take off, we might be too far from Issk’ath for it to hurt us when it— I dunno, comes to? Reboots? Whatever a Guardian does.”

Spixworth shook his head. “Or we could be a few thousand feet up with an angry robot that decides to smash us for leaving it behind. It’s too risky. Besides, I thought you wanted us to stay?”

“I want us to protect the Keseburg. And— and the life on this planet. It’s better we never set foot here. But we can do that without having to sacrifice ourselves if we all agree to stay silent. But only if we leave the robot behind.”

“We can’t leave Issk’ath,” hissed Rebecca, “You heard it. A few more years and it will go mad. We can’t just abandon it.”

“It’s not a pet ,” said Alice.

“You sound like Martham,” frowned Spixworth. “And I agree with Rebecca. I think it needs us. And maybe we need it. It may not want to police us, but I would bet it would be willing to share knowledge about the planet with us. Or the minds in its colony might. It would save us decades of fumbling research. And if you want to save the planet from us, Alice, this is the best way. We can learn where these people went wrong. Which organisms are sentinel species. What areas of the planet are most likely to be depleted by our actions. Whether shifts in weather are seasonal or a result of our intrusion We have to bring Issk’ath.”

“You think Captain Stratton would agree?” snapped Alice, “Or Hackford?”

“Issk’ath didn’t kill Dorothy,” said Rebecca, “you know that, you were there. And I don’t think it had anything to do with Stratton either. If it wanted to hurt him, it had the opportunity to kill him just after the explosion.”

“It’s dangerous. Even if it didn’t kill them, it’s in our systems. It has the power to crash us or cut off our air at any point. And it just admitted that it makes mistakes. That it’s faulty. We have to leave it, we can’t risk our entire species on the whims of one robot.”

“Guilt isn’t a malfunction, Alice. I’m not leaving it. You can go back to the Wolfinger if you want, but you’ll have to leave without me.”

“You’re bluffing,” scoffed Alice.

“I’m not. I can’t do this in good conscience, both for Issk’ath’s sake and because of the risk of it waking up before we’re far enough out of range,” said Rebecca.

“We’re friends ,” Alice protested, “We’re supposed to be on the same side.”

“When did this start being about ‘sides’?” asked Spixworth.

“When Rebecca chose an alien robot’s interest over the people who love her.”

“Hey I didn’t—” said Rebecca.

“You’re attributing human needs to it, Beck. Guilt, hope, loneliness. Whatever else it is, it’s not human. It’s not us. Its people weren’t human. They didn’t think like us. They didn’t act like us—”

“We don’t know that yet—”

“It’s metal and logic. It’s a fancy program, sure, but that’s all it is. Illusion and math. It isn’t real. We need to get off this planet, we need to leave that thing where it belongs, here, and we need to find a way to fix the Keseburg and the people aboard and stop trying to find a magic ball of dirt to solve all of our problems.”

Rebecca shook her head and crossed her arms, looking back at Issk’ath’s silent form.

“I’m sorry Rebecca, but I’m leaving,” said Alice.

“And I’m staying.”

“This is— this is ridiculous,” said Spixworth. “It’s not even worth arguing over. Al Jahi said eighteen hours. The Wolfinger won’t be ready anyway. We can’t leave, so stop fighting.”

“We’ll see what Al Jahi says when I tell her the robot is out of commission,” said Alice and walked toward the nest’s ramp. Spixworth groaned with frustration. He turned to Rebecca.

“We can’t stay, not if they really mean to leave.”

“I’m not abandoning Issk’ath. If we mean to come back, to settle here, we should do our best not to make a powerful enemy. It needs to know it can trust us.”

“They’ll leave you, though. Pretend you died with Hackford and Stratton. By the time someone comes back…” he trailed off.

“Maybe I’ll be gone. Or maybe Issk’ath can help me survive. Or maybe you could help me stall them and I won’t have to worry about it,” she said evenly.

Spixworth clutched the sides of his helmet. “Yeah, okay. Stalling I can do. I’ll be back. No matter what, I’ll come back, Rebecca.” She hugged him, their slick suits and large helmets awkward.

“Thank you, Nick,” she said. He nodded and jogged off after Alice. Rebecca returned to Issk’ath’s side, watching the twinkle and dash of the small lights shooting over its frame. “I hope you’re worth it,” she muttered.