It turned out that Machines, too, sought shelter from the ferocious sun of Mercury when they could find it. At Caloris, Falcon was directed to the shadow of one of the rupes that curled across the shattered ground of the great impact crater. For reasons lost in astronomical lore, these cliff-like folds had been named—by cartographers puzzling over images returned from the first uncrewed probes to Mercury—after ships of exploration, such as Beagle and Santa Maria. That tradition had continued when humans had come here in person.
Thus, Howard Falcon was directed to the shadow of an escarpment called Kon-Tiki.
* * * *
Falcon met Adam out on the surface, away from the craft. The Machine stood in shadow, silent and still, illuminated only by sunlight reflected from the baking rocks.
“So here we are, once again,” Falcon began. “Face to face. So to speak.”
Still Adam said nothing. His latest physical body was only vaguely a humanoid form, rendered in advanced technology. His legs were a tangle of springs and shock absorbers; his torso was a cylinder covered with access panels; his arms were flexibly jointed and fitted with claw-like manipulators. His head was now an open frame, fitted with artificial eyes and ears and even a mouth, surrounding an empty space. The design made Falcon’s own Oscar-statuette chic seem prehistoric.
But Adam reached out a hand. Falcon held out his own prosthetic hand in return, and Adam’s metallic claw enfolded his. They stood there as if locked together, palm to cold palm.
Adam smiled, an eerie distortion of that mouth. “A simple gesture but with layers of meaning, Falcon. You humans walk around in a fog of symbols.”
“So do you,” Falcon retorted. “It wasn’t my choice to stand here under a cliff called Kon-Tiki.”
“Ah, yes. I wish it was your famous vessel that was commemorated here, rather than an ocean-going craft of an age even earlier than yours. Still, the connection had occurred to me.” He glanced towards the position of the sun. “But you chose the day of Mercury’s transit for this meeting. Another act of symbolism.”
“It’s no exaggeration to say that the hopes of at least two worlds—two human worlds—are resting on this encounter between us. Why not choose such a day? And once the transit is over everybody’s attention will be focused on the speech President Soames is due to give, after we’re done here.”
“I hope she has two drafts ready. Good news and bad news.”
That made Falcon smile. “I tell people you have a sense of humour, Adam. Nobody believes me.”
“Tell me why you’ve come here.”
“You know why. I’ve been asked to speak to you about your actions on Mercury. Particularly the building of the sunshield, which is impossible to read as anything other than an act of aggression towards the Hermians and, through the mutual protection treaties, towards all of mankind. And you know why it’s me.”
“I am grateful for the things you did for me—for us. Your stewardship, in our earliest days. But those times are long in the past. By the way, I made an error when I chose to call you ‘Father.’” Adam’s head tilted. “I did not wish to . . . displease you. But it implied a bond, a connection, that was never really there.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Falcon said, with genuine regret—even though the Machine was referring to conversations centuries gone. “And is it too late for humanity on Mercury, Adam?”
“We pursue objectives beyond the defeat of humanity.”
That dismissive sentence chilled Falcon, even standing here in Mercury’s heat. “The Hermians think you intend to hijack solar power and Mercury’s resources, to use them for engineering projects.”
“In other words: to do what they’ve been doing. Why do you think we’re here, Falcon? Of all the humans I have encountered, you are the one who most nearly thinks like a Machine, when you choose to.”
“More like, when I can’t help it.”
Adam actually laughed, a sound that seemed more realistic than Falcon had observed before.
“Let’s not play games. What will you make here?”
Adam raised his face to the dark sky, and tapped his temple with his finger. “You made us this way, Falcon. In your own image. We are human-sized intelligences, with human-sized limits. It was all you could imagine. Now we take your legacy as a building brick to construct something much greater. We will join . . . We will create a mind greater than any one Machine as your own brain is greater than a single neuron.”
“You never used to brag, Adam.”
“Well, I’ve a lot to brag about.”
“Why Venus?”
“You mean, why have we sent assemblers there? It is the next logical target. I believe there is a small human settlement at the south pole, easily evacuated . . .”
Falcon knew that the crew of Aphrodite Base were already being taken offworld to Cytherea One, the main crewed space station at Venus. “You aren’t human, but you aren’t inhuman either. You show concern for the safety of the scientists at Aphrodite, just as you’re allowing evacuations on Mercury. Remember my own efforts to have you Machines recognised as Legal Persons (Non-human)? We respected your rights, back then—”
“I think that your Hermian friends would dismiss talk of rights as airy, self-indulgent foolishness. I came here because you requested it, Falcon. But no negotiation is possible. This discussion serves no further purpose.” He turned away.
Falcon called, “The Acheron is here. There’s nothing airy about that.”
Without looking back, Adam said, “That’s actually the first meaningful statement you’ve made.” And he walked deeper into the shadows, and out of sight.