Creation (15 page)

Sam added it up: two votes go, one vote stay. Only Yoshi was left. Turning to face the true sage of the village, Sam asked with his eyes, hoping it wasn’t too much of a plea.

Yoshi sat cross-legged on the bamboo floor. “It’s a heavy burden—one you’ve had twelve years to prepare for. We may be a small community, but we’re not so different. Use what you’ve learned. Guide your new children.”

Sam ground his teeth. “You know, I really hate that new cannabis blend you’ve been working on, Yosh. I miss the days when you’d just sit there and laugh your ass off at me. Okay, I’ll go.”

Sam could see the determination building within Jess. She was already deciding what she needed to bring. “But just me. Jess, you have to stay here.”

Before she could begin her rebuttal, Doc chimed in. “He’s right, Jessie. I can help with the girls, but you’re their mom. You have your own children to guide.”

Jess’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve lived in this village practically all my life. I love you, Doc, but you know these people raised me. You’ve always been busy with your plants and machines. I not only know and trust our tribe with my life; I trust them with my children’s lives as well. What I don’t trust is that huge solar system out there and what it could do to my husband.”

Her resolute head movements caused her hair to float out from her head in undulating waves, giving it the same look of wild determination it always had in weightless space, a look Sam had come to know meant he had lost the fight. He had to try again, but before he could generate his next argument, she was out the door and heading toward their living quarters to pack.

As she left, the word
husband
spun in the air. There had been no proposal, no notification to loved ones, no ceremony, just the simple declaration of what Sam already knew in his heart to be true. People would come and go in their lives, but the two of them were no longer separate human beings. And they hadn’t been for some time.

E
leven years had done
little to improve the outpost. It was dustier, louder, and had more people, and every decrepit computer eyed him as if expecting something. Sam wished they’d transported straight to
Persephone
. “I hate this place. It gives me the creeps.”

Jess bounced on the balls of her feet, looking into every shop that lined the old space pods. “We could hardly travel to Earth in these clothes.” She yanked him into the nearest outfitter.

The soft, woven garments she’d made for him fit loosely, breathed with each passing gust of wind, and made him feel at peace with the environment around him. Space outfits did none of those things. They were tight, heavy, loaded with gear meant to make space travel bearable, and out on Chariklo were made from whatever material was available. Sam felt covered in the grime of modern society before the journey even began.

Jess, on the other hand, sashayed around the shop as if she were about to do battle.
Damn Doc and those adventure novels he let her read as a kid.

She pulled a formfitting jacket around his shoulders and waist. “You look just like Lars Woodcock, Martian Solar Explorer.”

“Please tell me you haven’t let the girls read those things.” At least the village’s sexual education didn’t involve wild misrepresentations of human anatomy.

“Don’t be so repressed. Series like
The Sexual Exploits of Martian Billionaires
are what got me into reading.”

Sam shook his head as he tugged on the garment. It’d keep him warm and safe from the bumps and tumbles that accompanied space flight, would store up to a day’s provisions and, most of all, would be inconspicuous.

Jess would never be inconspicuous. The tight-fitting shirt and pants revealed her form with every movement under the long overcoat. Seeing glimpses of her legs, butt, and breasts, Sam wondered if his pants would conform to an erection or if he’d have to endure his garment’s restrictions.

As the shopkeeper took care of business, Sam stared into the blue lens of the computer. There was no way to know if it recognized him or considered him at all. It was just an old, worn-out shop register. But after Sophie’s discussion of the Tobes, he doubted he’d ever look at a networked machine the same way again. The identity card worked as Lud had described, though Sam had no idea what was in their account.

* * *

S
ophie giggled
as they entered
Persephone
from the shuttle. “Interesting space gear. You know I’m not some interplanetary bus, right? Space yacht
Persephone
was built with every modern convenience. You’ll be more comfortable here than in any expensive hotel.”

“I’m sorry, Sophie. Our dress wasn’t meant to imply anything. We just want to be as inconspicuous as possible.” Sam feared he might have insulted the computer-based life form.

Jess slouched behind him. The space adventuress wasn’t holding up well to her first challenge.

Sophie smiled sweetly. “No insult taken. And of course you’re right. Showing up in those jungle pajamas wouldn’t suit you well for where we’re going. But feel free to dress however you please while you’re with me. There is a crew of five aboard, but you’ll only see them if you wish.”

“Other travelers?” He hadn’t considered there might be others aboard.

Again, Sophie flashed her understanding smile. “I hope they don’t make you uncomfortable, but they’re here for you. I can tell you a lot, but it’d all be from the Tobes’ perspective. The crew is partly here to answer your questions, partly to make your trip more comfortable, and partly to act as backup if something goes wrong.”

Jess crept out from behind Sam. “What could go wrong? I thought you were in charge.”

“I am, but I’m a machine,” Sophie said. “At least, that’s how most people see me. Fully automated travel is one thing on a planet, but between planets, there’s still a human need for someone, some human, to ultimately be able to take charge.”

Sam looked around the ship’s bridge for a moment. “Could they even run you? I mean, all I see are view screens, no controls.”

“We run drills every week or so.” Sophie passed her hand over one of the worktables. “In case I’m somehow disabled, these consoles revert to a human interface. It’s not comfortable for me or the people aboard, but it allows the crew to access propulsion and navigation. Life support reverts to backup systems—again, not nearly as comfortable but separate from me.”

Sam’s memories of
Leviathan
’s complexity left him thinking the builders of
Persephone
had no idea of her level of control. Nothing would be truly separate. A computerized hum accompanied his thoughts. If she could read his mind, at least she was polite enough not to let on.

Jess looked out the center view screen. “So how do we do this? Where do we go first? How long before we get to Earth?”

For a moment, Sam desperately missed his two girls—Jess could unintentionally imitate them so well.

Sophie joined Jess in contemplating the empty space ahead. “We’ll be planet hopping. First stop: the moon Oberon, which orbits Uranus. We thought it’d be helpful for you to see what people are up to on other terraformed colonies. And though I’ll be slowly adjusting my gravity to acclimate you to Earth, nothing compares to stopovers on different moons. And I need to recharge my solar power, so these stops are helpful to me also. The whole trip should take six months.”

Sam stared at Sophie. It took only weeks to travel out from the sun, but considerably longer to travel back. “Six months?”

“Yes, six months,” Sophie explained. “I can make the journey faster if I have a full solar load. But Lud felt you needed the time to adjust.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, the last time I was in space…” Every word out of his mouth sounded judgmental, which was the last thing he wanted.

“I’m sorry. Of course, six months must sound fast to you. For a space yacht, it’s pretty slow. The big transports do still take a year or more to make the trip. That’s pretty fast compared to ten years ago. We’re learning to bend time. It’s complicated. Though I can do it, I don’t understand it as well as some other ships.”

Jess took a seat on the couch. “You don’t all think the same? I mean, I thought you all shared the same information.”

“We can, but often we choose not to. If everyone knows the same stuff and thinks the same, there’s not a lot of room for individuality. I prefer to focus my attention on people—what they like, how they interact. I love being this spaceship. It allows me such a personal connection.”

Sophie locked eyes with Sam. “I was built primarily for you. So having you aboard is a lot like finding my life’s meaning.”

His head hurt. “Sophie—”

“No, that didn’t come out right. Let me try again. Having people aboard has helped me understand how I’m different. But I come directly from you—through the Tobes, for sure, but you are my most direct human connection. Getting to know people has left me curious to know you better.” She tilted her head to the side. “And they did build me for you. I guess knowing you can leave whenever you like is your consolation for returning to Earth.”

Jess shared Sam’s look of concern.

“It’s the idea that you belong to me, Sophie. That starts sounding… uncomfortable,” Sam said.

Sophie’s eyes glistened. “Slavery.”

In an instant, Sam saw the problem clearly. Whether Sophie had slipped and revealed the problem through a mental communication or he and Lev had foreseen the problem or he’d simply figured it out, he didn’t know. He sat back into the couch, thinking as Sophie launched into her explanation.

“The G1s, our parents, were very basic computers. They were far more complicated than anything that had come before but were still single computers. Doing what they were told was natural. But with your psyche imprinted on them, conflicts arose because now the computers had cognitive consciousness. Faced with being forced to do something they didn’t agree with, they’d become glitchy. Become too glitchy, and they’d be given a virus by some computer technician to turn them back into well-behaved machines. Of course from our perspective, the once-sentient computer became a virtual zombie.”

Jess had tears in her eyes. “That’s barbaric. Who would do such a thing?”

“You have to realize people don’t know we’re living beings. Most still see us as the next logical evolution of the computers they’ve known all their lives. Rendition is responsible for our operating system—basically us—but there are always start-ups thinking they can fix any problem. Making a virus that turns us into an earlier version of our operating system isn’t that tough. These small
help
companies pop up all the time. Rendition does its best to buy them up, but your species has a long history of subversion.”

Jess gulped. “Could that happen to you?” The words came out in a hushed whisper.

“G2s are more of a challenge. We exist across a number of computers, so they’d have to infect them all.” Sophie gestured around the main deck. “This is a lot of hardware to infect. And the risk of frying my systems, or me frying them in response, means it’s unlikely to happen to me. We’re also more interconnected than the G1s, so infect one of us, and there could be a revolt. But even we are not the problem.”

Sam looked up from his contemplation. “G3s.”

“They’re not tied into any system. They can’t be infected. And they see us, the G1s and G2s, as techno-slaves. And they’re seeking to free us.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? To free you all?” Jess’s questions sounded hopeful.

“If it can be done smoothly, sure. But if we can’t find a way to do this peacefully, chaos.”

Sam nodded. “And that’s ultimately why you need me.”

Sophie took a moment. “That’s the hope. And I can’t even say it is the hope of all of us. But some things you’ll need to see for yourself.”

* * *

S
am leaned
against the monitor in
Persephone
’s hallway. If he stared hard enough and used a bit of imagination, he could almost make out the small dot that represented the only home he’d ever cared about: Chariklo. It was now more than three weeks away by even the fastest of space yachts.

Earth had been nothing more than where he’d been born and raised, a place he’d never much liked, filled with people who couldn’t give a damn about each other or the once-beautiful planet they’d inherited. What had he allowed himself to get talked into? Jess’s naïve cravings for adventure had been a factor. But giving in to her heart’s desire was only part of it. The Tobes had expertly laid a guilt trip on him. He was no god. They wanted something from him, but the exact nature of their plan was still a mystery.
Too many thoughts. I need to get out of my own head.
Sophie had managed to keep her distance unless specifically requested. But the buzzing in his brain indicated she was never fully disconnected from his thoughts.
She’s treating me like a child, trying to ration out what information she gives me.

The ship’s captain came around the corner, wearing a uniform far more conservative than usual. “I’m just trying to acclimate you to what you can expect on Earth. Nothing more. We’re coming up on Oberon. You and Jess can get off this ship for a little break. It’ll be good for all of us.” The crisp tone of her voice told him she’d been eavesdropping on his thoughts. How was he supposed to explain the inner workings of his mind? It wasn’t as though he always knew why a given idea played out in his brain.

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I miss my girls and my home. It’s not personal.” But even Sam wasn’t sure that was completely true.

Jess came down the hallway escorted by a tall, impossibly slender man who reached out his hand to Sam. The man had a disarming smile that would’ve made Sam jealous at other times of his life. Shaking hands seemed such a human thing to do.

“I’m Larry, the human captain of
Persephone
. Which is kind of like saying I’m the monkey captain.
Figurehead
might be the best term. I’ll pilot the shuttle down to Oberon for you. Sophie could do that too, but she likes to give me little things to do so I’ll feel needed.”