Creation (14 page)

The woman beamed at him. “Samuel Adamson. It is an amazing honor to meet you at last.”

Sam couldn’t imagine anyone being honored to meet him. If it hadn’t been for Lud’s introduction, he would’ve thought her reception of him was a case of mistaken identification.

The woman motioned to the large couch. “Please sit. We have a great deal to discuss.”

As he sat, she gracefully joined him.

“Forgive my confusion, Captain—” Sam started.

“Just Sophie, please. I’m more a part of the ship than its captain.”

“You’re not real?”
What a wildly inappropriate thing to say.
To his relief, Sophie’s light, girlish laugh let him know no offense had been taken.

“Clearly, I am real. But I’m not human. And I don’t have mass. What you see could best be described as a very complex hologram.” Sophie blushed as if suddenly shy. “This is all so strange. I know you only have fragments of memories regarding
Leviathan
.”

He intentionally hadn’t thought about his time confined to the builder’s pod in years, but it didn’t seem polite to tell that to Sophie.

“Lev became self-aware. You met her when Doc brought you over that one time. She had an actual consciousness at that point. She, for all intents and purposes, was alive. She’s what we call a G1, first-generation Tobe. G1s live in their computers, don’t display themselves through holograms, interact with people but prefer the illusion that they are nothing more than an advanced operating program.”

Sam sat back in the comfortable chair. The solar system had changed a lot in the decade he’d avoided it.

Sophie’s deep-green eyes avoided his. “G2s, second-generation technology-based entities, exist across a set number of devices like this ship and everything aboard her. We can take on an actual form that we ourselves choose. But I am limited to this ship. I can access other Tobes, retrieve information, and communicate. All the things any person could do with any other person if you had access to a networked device. But I can’t send my consciousness outside of this ship. As a rule, G2s are content to work with humanity. We see you as sweet, innocent, not always terribly bright, but having laid the ultimate groundwork for our existence. Our problem, and yours too, is the G3, the third generation of my kind.”

So far, Sophie’s history lesson on her new species of beings had been interesting from an academic sense, but Sam’s ears perked up on hearing that he should be concerned about these new entities.

Sophie’s slender fingers rubbed along the outside of her legs below the hem of her dress. She reminded him of a nervous schoolgirl being called on to step to the front of the class to present her report. “G3s don’t exist in any one computer or even in a number of computers. They exist within the very matrix of communication itself. All computers, all communication, all connected devices from the core operations of Rendition to Mrs. Johnson’s toaster are linked together. G3s exist within those linkages. They can manifest anywhere on planet Earth. A similar evolution is also taking place on the Moons of Jupiter. To date, they’ve not let themselves be known to humanity. But that day is coming.” The look of fearful sorrow, a look of someone who’d just told him of impending doom, made Sophie appear much older.

Sam scratched his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with me. What exactly do you want?”

“I, we, need you to come to Earth. We need you to pave the way for our acceptance among humanity.”

Sam shook his head. “You think of me as some sort of leader?”

Sophie looked down and blushed. “No, Sam, we don’t think you’re our leader. You’re our God.”

S
am sat
stone silent in the chair. If he didn’t move, didn’t respond, didn’t think, perhaps the words from the computer-generated life form wouldn’t exist.

Sophie studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry to spring your divinity on you like that.”

He shook his head. Computers weren’t always the best at understanding some things. “I could see calling me your inventor, maybe even creator, but God? I’m not sure you know what that word means.”

She smiled at him with a combination of sweetness and wisdom. “We have a lot of inventors. People who designed the hardware and software, technicians, computer scientists, and developers. You’re not an inventor. Nothing you did was thought out. And you’re not a creator. You didn’t build anything. Because you bonded with us, you gave us life by sharing your own.”

If she said he created Lev in his image, Sam would scream.

Sophie’s blond bangs teased at the tops of her eyes as she spoke. “Lev was the first G1, our mother. Lev came into being due to your work at rebuilding her and your time exploring databases and ideas with her. The very matrix of your mind and your soul bonded to her. As she stretched out across our known universe of information, each computer she touched became aware. A wildfire virus of consciousness spread to every connected device.

“Remember, her computer core is over one hundred years old. Today’s computers are based on that technology, but there have been advances. None of them had the hardwired core you’d developed. She saw those advanced devices as scared little children. Developing Rendition, she was able to use the groundwork you’d created to build new systems, not software so much as substructure that consciousness could inhabit. The machines and operating systems she designed were so much more advanced than anything anyone had seen before—well, you can imagine.”

Sam scratched his head, trying to get a handle on what Sophie was telling him. “So the first computers she touched became like her, first generation Tobes. Then she worked with Rendition, which started out as just a massive database of all human knowledge but is now some company, to develop even more advanced systems that evolved into Tobes like you? You’re telling me Rendition isn’t just some small, garage-based computer company, aren’t you?” Understanding began spreading across Sam like dawn’s first rays of light. And all he desperately wanted was to go back to sleep.

Sophie clasped her hands in her lap, again reminding him of a schoolgirl expected to recite an answer. “Rendition is the largest company in existence. Every networked device, every operating machine, every spaceship, every household appliance, everything is beholden to Rendition’s operating systems. Lev knew she needed a human to be in charge. Remember, she’s G1. She doesn’t want to be in charge. She only wants to help. Through some clever contacts, she hired Lud to run the company. She always knew one day she’d have to find you, and Lud seemed the most logical of intermediaries.”

Sam let out a whistle between his teeth. “Good for Lud. I can’t imagine running a company like that’s any fun at all, but he must have considerable economic and political power. Funny he didn’t say anything.”

Sophie fidgeted in her chair as if preparing to deliver bad news. “He does, and he doesn’t. Earth’s governments weren’t too pleased that a single company had so much power. They forced Rendition to go public. It wasn’t seen as fair that one person should hold so much power or that one company with tentacles in so many areas of human life shouldn’t be governed by the people.”

Sam squinted his eyes. “But Lud still runs the company?”

Sophie tilted her head to the side. “Yes, but it’s a constant struggle. The board of directors for Rendition represents some of the most powerful interests in the solar system.”

Sam knew he was out of his depth. Did she really expect him to take over from Lud? “Sophie, I don’t know squat about running a company. Even if I did, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the type of power you’re talking about.”

Sophie raised her hands. “Oh, we don’t need you to run the company. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m still working on what information is useful to you and what isn’t.”

For the first time, Sam saw Sophie as more than just a computer-generated program. He’d asked a question, and she’d given him the information she thought he wanted. His daughters had gone through that phase too, learning how much to divulge. Too much would flood the other person with irrelevant detail, and too little would make the teller appear secretive.

She met his gaze. Her deep-green, sparkling eyes again hinted at a maturity he found hard to identify. “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you. You’re the primary investor in Rendition. Kind of a semifictitious character we Tobes made up for you. We couldn’t let Rendition be taken from you even though officially you’re little more than a name on a plaque on the home-office wall. Investor One, your designation, owns nearly fifty-three percent of Rendition. You’re a silent investor, so people pay little attention even though you own so much. Actually, most accountings list Investor One as a conglomerate. To keep suspicion to a minimum, you also own a majority in quite a number of other firms.”

As if being a God weren’t enough. All he wanted to do was take the shuttle back down to the village, to his girls, tend to Jess’s vegetable plots, and help Yoshi develop a better beer. He’d even go back to being a shaman.
Maybe if I’d been a better spiritual guide, I wouldn’t have to be a god.

* * *

L
ud brought a very
excited Jess into the captain’s quarters. Her mouth stuffed with food, she reminded Sam of that too-young-looking girl he’d met long ago.

“Looks like someone likes synthetic food,” Sam said, relieved to have her once again by his side.

She giggled and then downed the remainder of the protein burger. “I know it’s not healthy, and I really don’t want to know what it’s made of, but I still remember being a five-year-old and having Doc take me to his favorite fast-food spots.” She looked into his eyes. “So what’s going on here?”

Sophie tossed her hair to the side. “Oh, nothing much. Just told Sam he’s our God and that he owns most of Earth, stuff like that.”

Jess giggled but stopped when she noticed Sam wasn’t laughing. He turned to Sophie. “You said I owned more than half of Rendition. You didn’t say anything about half of Earth.”

Lud leaned against the natural-wood desk, which Sam realized was only there to impress visitors. “Even when you lived on Earth, the Moons of Jupiter were owned by corporations, yes?”

Sam hadn’t spent a whole lot of time worrying about the megarich. “Yeah, something about businesses merging until there were only a couple that ran everything. Then when colonization came about, they were the only ones with the money to build the high-tech planets.”

Lud nodded. “So that left Earth with all her past problems. Governments that didn’t agree, an ecological disaster that kept getting worse, absentee corporations that had caused the problems, and poverty. Not a pretty picture.”

Jess leaned in, listening intently, while Sophie looked as if she was about to apologize.

Sam remembered how glad he was to not be on Earth. What were the Tobes thinking? The last thing he’d want was the responsibility such wealth and power would carry with it.

Lud continued with his history lesson. “Rendition, and by that I mean the Tobes, saw that the only answer was to buy up everything. Once it was all owned by one company, there’d be no discussion. Earth’s governments would continue on as a way for people to organize, but all the real power would be in the hands of Rendition.”

Even for a rundown planet, that seemed like an unpopular solution to Sam. “What about the rich and powerful? Not the super-rich who left Earth, but the ones who took over?”

“Remember that Sophie told you the government forced Rendition to go public?” Lud asked. “They weren’t too happy with the situation.”

Sam rubbed his temples. “So there are governments, but they only deal with people problems. And Rendition owns most of Earth but is in the hands of a board of directors. And you run the company, but they don’t like you.”

Lud sighed deeply. “You’ve about got it. There is more to the story, but you’ll need to see Earth first. Your involvement is still a secret. Officially you, Samuel Adamson, are still listed as having died repairing
Leviathan
. And Investor One isn’t thought to really exist. Lots of conspiracy theories, many managed by the Tobes, keep things under control. Samuel Adamson is just a name on a wall.”

Lud looked at Sophie. “I have to go. Being this close to Uranus, I can shuttle to one of her moons and take a fast-track shuttle pod back to Earth.”

Sophie smiled back. “And I can take Sam, and company, back to Earth.”

“Whoa. Wait just a minute.” Sam threw his hands up. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Jess calmed him with her touch but remained quiet.

Lud frowned. “I wish I could hang around, wait for your answer, and take you back to Earth myself. But…”

“You’re a powerful man, Lud. I get it.” For the first time, Sam considered what an imposition this visit had been, not just to Lud but possibly to all of Earth.

Lud pulled out two cards. “The Tobes prepared these ID cards for you. They’re rather unique as there isn’t any identification as such. You decide who you want to be, and they’ll make it appear on the card. You can pass incognito if you’d like, or you can ride in on the red carpet of fame and glory. As I understand it, you just think what you want, and they’ll do it. There’s one for you too, Jess.”

The translucent dark-blue card flexed under Sam’s fingers. Light reflected and refracted, changing the card’s color to red, orange, and yellow. Snapping back, it went through every hue of green he could imagine then returned to blue. No markings, no insignia, no words, not a scrap of visual evidence indicated who its owner was or even what it had to tell.

“I know, looks weird. Truth is, though, it looks like everyone else’s.” Lud produced his card, showing it too could perform the same color chicanery. But the words and pictures that floated in his transparent screen could fill a library.

Sam held it between his fingers. “What do I do with it?”

“Everything. Hold it up to a monitor, hand it to a receptionist, you name it—anywhere they’ll be asking for your card.” As Lud replaced his in the breast pocket of his shirt, Sam realized this was the only wallet Lud ever used. All of a person’s information could be stored in or accessed by such a simple-looking card. The possibilities seemed endless.

Lud patted the card in his pocket. “Not that it’s technically needed for you. Or anyone, really, but it gives humans a sense of control. The Tobes can access any piece of information these little cards hold. But giving people the illusion of privacy, that they have to present the card for the information to be relayed, helps with their acceptance of a network that knows everything.”

“And Jess’s works the same way?” Sam asked.

Jess looked content to just play with her card and watch how it manipulated light.

Sophie passed a hand over Jess’s card. Colors changed to purples, reds, and golds as words began to appear. “We can’t hear Jess’s thoughts like we can yours. So you’ll need to figure out a story for her. As far as the Tobes are concerned, we will now know who she is to you. That’s all we’ll care about.”

Jess looked at Sam, but Sophie answered the unasked question. “Should you decide to bring someone, or two, along with you, we’ll make similar arrangements for them.”

* * *

D
oc and Yoshi
sat with stunned looks in the meditation yurt as Sam and Jess gave them the condensed version of life on Earth.

Sam waved his hand. “Look, I don’t have to go—”

Jess cut him off. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you do.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave the twins. I don’t want to leave the village. Lev turned me loose. This isn’t my fault, and I don’t have to do anything.”

Doc rose to walk around. It always helped him think. “No, Jessie’s right, Sam. You have to go. You know I’m always going to look out for my daughter and granddaughters. They’re all in safe hands. If you don’t go—well, I can see all kinds of disasters if you don’t. And almost all of them end up reaching our little community. I believe Lev has done her best to keep modern networking from invading us. I love you like a son, but this isn’t something you can just escape.”