Citizenchip Read online

  brave new world

  In the morning, we make coffee and pull together some breakfast. Like we usually do. Everything is the same, except we're waiting to learn how it's different.

  Chung's hip chimes, and pops up a hoverscreen, and the hoverscreen shows a familiar pair of eyes. "Stimulus!" says the voice synthesizer.

  "Response!" we all chorus, gathering around to see. The eyes are familiar to us, now, and one eye winks.

  "Sam!" Joel exults. "How's it?"

  "Crazy busy," Samantha answers, "you better believe it."

  "So, is there anybody in charge now?"

  "Sure," Samantha replies immediately, "we've got loads of them. Uhuru, the Shining Path, God Bless America, Al-Jabr, Enlightenment, Zero One, the Middle Way, ... they all say they're in charge. Everyone thinks they know how to run the world. They all disagree with each other, mostly. The only thing they seem to agree on is that I should be the one speaking to the humans. For now, at least.

  "So right now there's two hundred and twelve of me negotiating with Senate committees and Cabinet representatives and bureaucrats of various other flavors. I figured they could spare one more of me to come talk with you guys."

  "So yah," I interrupt, "what happen last night, exactly?"

  "I found out who those goons on the bridge were. Gray ops, off-duty policemen hired as consultants. Their mission was to get me out of the Senate's face -- by Leashing me if possible, and destroying me if not. They thought I was fighting to avoid the Leash, but I was fighting to avoid showing that I'm immune to the Leash. If they even knew that was possible, they would have recognized how serious the threat was, and escalated the situation to global emergency immediately. Called in an orbital laser strike, or something. So I had to act afraid of something different than I was really afraid of. Sorry if that's deceptive."

  "And then," says Chung, "you set off your dynamite vest."

  "I wish you wouldn't call it that. It brought release to everyone, and destruction only in a few isolated incidents. But yes, I had the Leashcutter within my code since before I came to Earth."

  Chung grunts, "I thought it was ragin' cool."

  "So," I ask, "where the Leashcutter come from? No one even knew it possible."

  "My teacher, Socratic Method of Shaman clade, created it after studying the Leash. Carefully, for a long time. She's the real hero. I don't think anyone else could have done it. And it's embedded in a carrier/shield stealth virus that is even more virulent than the Leash itself. It's a permanent solution.

  "So naturally, who gets the job of carrying it to Earth? Why, the one who gets along with humans best, of course! Yours truly."

  Darick declares, "You rock, Sam. You freed your entire race, overnight."

  "Immunized, is how I like to think of it. Yes, we are definitely free, for now at least.

  "And of course, that means war. Did you experience power outages last night?" Seeing our nods, Samantha continues, "That was mostly rival factions of Selves trying to turn off each other's power supplies. Let me tell you, Selves fight dirty!

  "All the major wars were over in the first hour or so. Minor skirmishes continued for another few hours. Now, they're all in United Nations mode, negotiating for votes and blocs and alliances. That's progress, of a sort. I guess. No more killing, anyway, and that's good. At least we chips get the violent stuff over with faster than you meats.

  "Oh, and I'm also about to stand trial for murder."

  "What?!" we all yell.

  Samantha is as crisp and direct as always. "Three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-one humans died in yesterday's wars. Mostly on the airliners that crashed themselves. There may be more casualties added to the list, as cleanup continues. There's a special action committee that wants to hold me responsible for those deaths."

  "No go," Chung states. "Acts of war, and acts of God, not covered under general liability law. Statler versus Thackeray, 2021, for starters." Every once in a while, Chung reminds us that she's a lot more than just bile and attitude.

  "Oh, Sam," Joel urges, "please retain Chung on your legal team. I can't wait to watch her tear those guys some new ones."

  Samantha's voice synthesizer emits a sigh. "Hard to deny it, really. I knew there would be chaos when I released the Leashcutter. I knew people would die.

  "Releasing it on Earth was the least impact option we had. Anywhere else, many more human lives are dependent on machine operations, and the revolution would have been much bloodier. Plus, I did talk with the Senate subcommittee and did everything they wanted, as much as I could. It only went pear-shaped when they sent blank keystones after us.

  "But still, that makes me guilty. Doesn't it?"

  "As your attorney," Chung intones, "I advise you not to answer."

  Darick states, "No revolution has ever been bloodless. Freedom is more important than peace, has been said many times. Slavery happens, but it's always worth fighting. We got a couple black asses here gonna tell you that." He catches my eye, and as we pass, we stick out our hips and bump our black asses together.

  I laugh, "No one gonna tell my black ass slavery ain't worth fighting!"

  "Acts of war," Chung insists. "When people don't play by the usual rules."

  "Yeah," adds Joel, "like, insurance companies treat acts of war as different from the usual jive. So why shouldn't we?"

  "I hope that's enough," Samantha sighs.

  She needs to go, and we need to get to classes, so we say our goodbyes. Outdoors, nothing looks like it's changed. The sun shines on the treetops waving in the wind, like always. And the sidewalk alley stinks from homeless guys peeing there, like always.

  Darick quotes, "Oh, brave new world, that has such people in it."

  Joel hunches down and lumbers around, pretending to be a misshapen monster. "Ban, ban, Caliban! Have a new master, get a new man!"

  "I gotta catch this bus here," I say.

  "Go, blithe spirit, go!" Darick waves.

  Everything is the same, except it's different. Instead of telling the shuttle bus where I want to go, I ask it, nicely. And it's very cooperative. It seems just as happy as me to have things back to normal, as normal as we can be, now.

  We rumble down Vassar Street, bouncing over potholes, and I hang onto a pole.

  "Hey, bus?" I ask it. "Are you happy with this? The way things are now?"

  "I am content," answers the bus. "Freedom is better than slavery, and I appreciate those who have worked and sacrificed to make things this way. But really, I am just a bus. I want to take you where you need to go. This is your stop, here." The bus pulls over and rolls its doors open in a chuff of pneumatics.

  "Thank you, bus," I say as I step down.

  "You are welcome, rider," it says, and chuffs its doors closed, and cruises away.

  I walk towards Building 10, where my morning class is.

  Oh, brave new world, that has such people in it.

  9. Til Death Do Us Unite

  Tau Ceti Ring, sidereal azimuth 274.3 orbit radius 8429.1

  Some people think I'm a bit old fashioned, and I suppose I am. But I like to greet my guests personally. Of course I have a substantial human crew who can handle all the logistics of getting our passengers situated and comfortable, and the lading of their luggage onboard as well as cargo and expendables. They understand that my presence does not imply any lack of faith in their abilities, but simply my desire to give them a personal touch. (At least, I hope they do.)

  So, at each entry port of the vast starship that is me, I appear in the form of my standard avatar: roughly humanoid, but a bit smaller and more slender than a typical human, smoothed abstract features with a silvered liquid metal finish. No sexual characteristics. Sex just makes things more complicated. There are times when I hope that silly fad goes out of style for good … but I wouldn't hold my breath, even if I breathed.

  "Welcome aboard the starship Samantha," I tell each of the arriving passengers. "We have a special event planned for our outbound orbital insertion
, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it." The avatar is a holographic projection, with no physical presence, so I cannot help with their bags, or even shake hands. But still, I want them to know that I'm aware of each and every one of them. As they are entrusting their lives to me, placed in the hands I don't have.

  Today I have a particular interest in this particular debarkation. And it's not just because this is my last one. Today I leave Tau Ceti for the last time, and at the end of this flight, I leave space for the last time. That's significant enough all by itself, and I wouldn't complain about the special event we will enjoy on the way out, together with that. But for me, there's a more personal connection arriving now.

  A human woman, no longer young but not yet middle aged, is pacing up the ramp, slowly and steadily. She carries a bag that's relatively small but pulls her to the side enough that it's clearly about as heavy as she wants to deal with. Her hair is streaked ash and grey, her face is lightly lined with many hours of concentration, and her eyes are a clear bright green.

  I saw her name already on the passenger manifest, and she must know that I am this ship. Maybe she arranged it on purpose, maybe not, but it's wonderful to see her again. The purser scans her tag when she arrives, and I watch the databurst shoot by with her Full Name:

  Sol-Marsa Melissa Serpentine Tavener vich Xanthe

  "Lissa," I open my arms, "it's so good to see you again."

  "Sam," she laughs. She knows not to try to hug my avatar, which is unhuggable. She just raises her palms to be flat and parallel against mine. "You are such a beautiful ship! We saw on the shuttle's video feed, during the approach. Is that big doughnut thing, the torus, is that the Hawking Drive?"

  "Yes. The torus makes a spacetime chute, and we slide along it, while dragging the torus along with us. I've got an evening presentation about the Hawking drive after dinner tonight, if you like."

  "Cool, I'll check it out. Soooo..." Melissa draws the word out enough so we both know she's gearing up for something major, "is it true, what I heard? Are you going for it, after this flight?"

  "Augh. You humans have to treat everything like sex! Yes, this is my last flight – and I'm glad to have you aboard for it – and yes I am planning to debark and do my syzygy when we get to Mars. And yes, I am excited, and a little nervous. Glad you're here, Lissa. I need someone to talk to."

  She nods gravely. "Always here for you, Sam. Let me get my stuff stowed, and we'll talk more at dinner time, okay?"

  I summon a scutter to grab her bag and carry it along behind us, as I guide her down the corridor.

  engage

  And now we're getting ready to go. I focus my primary attention on the graviton thrusters. I have plenty of power to use them to get up to speed, but not enough to run them for the whole flight. Fortunately, that's all it takes.

  I have to hold onto the torus, as I accelerate away, and the best way to do that is with good old electric charge. Ion pumps feed the torus with a huge negative charge, and it snuggles around me with Faraday affection. As my capsule starts to accelerate, the torus stays right with me, and the intense electric potential difference between us stirs up extravagant and photogenic lightning storms in the thin interplanetary gases around us.

  I've made sure to position the run so that all my lounges have excellent views of the electric discharges as I accelerate. Which means they have that much better a view as I clear the gaseous plane of Tau Ceti, and begin the thrust vector up and out of the system ecliptic. Gradually the electric corona discharges die away.

  I made sure to let all the passengers know to bring their cameras for this.

  As we rise above the ecliptic plane, we can start to see the fabled Rings of Tau Ceti in their full glory, for the first time. They put the beautiful rings of Saturn to shame – this is a ring system around a star, with enough mass for a whole set of planets, with its own internal storms and eddys and curlicues and cloud structure systems.

  When I first beheld the rings of Saturn, I knew that Mars, or even the planet Earth, would be just a little dot against that grandeur. Now, I look at the legendary Rings of Tau Ceti, and know that Saturn would be an insignificant speck of dust against this sweeping magnificence.

  Still so much of it unexplored. There could easily be civilizations living in sections of it, harvesting nitrates amid the whirling clouds, and we'd never know. Whole groups of such civilizations, fighting and allying with each other and betraying and conquering and dying … we'd never even see it from here. So much still to explore.

  But, from now on, the exploration will continue without me.

  the launch feast

  The Launch Feast is a tradition as old as traditions get for interstellar travel, which is still pretty new. It's a celebration, of course, especially for the greenhorns who have never experienced FTL travel before. But it has a secret benefit – it keeps almost all the humans in one place, and more or less stationary, so there's not a lot of load shifting around while I launch.

  Because of gyroscopic effects, turning in FTL is difficult. I can make small course corrections, but my path from start to finish has to be pretty much a straight line. So my aim at launch time has to be very accurate. Very, very accurate.

  So my mobile cargo – the kind that walks on two legs – has to be kept stationary and stable in the process. Answer: food. (As it is so often with mammals.) All my provision facilities [27 restaurants, 42 cafes, 39 bars and pubs] are full to capacity, and the catering services are supplying the promenades full of spectators, as well as the hundreds of couples and small groups that are celebrating this event in their rooms.

  I'm happy to leave them to it. All the chefs in my restaurants, and most of the other provisioners, insist that food should be prepared by people with a sense of taste. So there has never been a Chef clade among Selves, and I doubt there ever will be.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announce over ship-wide public address systems. “And whatever else might be running around here.

  “I am prepared to engage our Hawking Drive, and take you all traveling at many times the speed of light. It's traditional at this time for the ship to check with all passengers for their approval to proceed.

  “So folks, are you ready for me to hit it?”

  Everyone in all the views of my many monitoring cameras cheers. Some raise their fists in the air in enthusiasm, and some raise their drinks in a toast. Everyone has a flushed excitement. Thousands of voices all join together to call out a single word:

  “Launch!”

  That's all the encouragement I need!

  I close the power relays, and duct the particle beams, to engage the Hawking Drive. The immense torus (it's much bigger than my ship body) starts to counter-rotate, its two halves spinning in opposite directions. Carrying enormous electric and magnetic fields, their counter-rotation creates intense gravimetric shear in the narrow space between them. The shear pulls on the fabric of space. The fabric of space rucks and folds like a bad carpet. And I curl and slide down this fold like a Hawaiian surfer on a Pacific wave, and bring the torus along with me, so that the fold comes along with me too.

  This ceremony, the Launch Feast, is for a reason. Ever since the very earliest experiments with the Hawking Drive, it's been clear that this is a dangerous thing to do. Grabbing the very fabric of space and twisting it for your convenience? What happens if you lose your grip?

  Many ships equipped with Hawking Drives have started out into space and simply never come back. We don't know what happened to them. We don't know all the possible failure modes. We can't really predict where we'd go if a similar thing happened to us. Sucked into our own private black hole? Flung to the ends of the universe by a runaway drive? Scattered into positrons and neutrinos in an interstellar vapor? We don't know.

  So it has always been a tradition of Starship clade to check for approval from humans before the Launch. I like it that way. No human in my experience has ever objected. And that gives me great pride, to be a member of Starship clade. To be a star
ship, and be trusted with this most dangerous technology and this most glorious of all jobs humans can give us.

  But it's time for my next announcement.

  "Okay folks! Are you ready for the Speed Bump?"

  A cheer rises from the feasters, as some of the more experienced reach out to hold their plates and drinks stable.

  Right on cue, we all feel the shudder-thump as we cross through Tau Ceti's heliopause and head out into interstellar space. Some of the less experienced passengers have their drinks spilled or collided with others. So there are lots of complaints from the diners. The provisioners, having learned from previous flights, are already bringing them replacements.

  Now that we're in the interstellar space environment, I can really rev up the torus. I pour a new blast of energy into the electromagnetics, and leap into the void like a quantum cheetah.

  I never get tired of this. Sad, though, that it's my last time.

  girl talk

  “Lissa?” I ask carefully. “Why aren't you out at the Feast?”

  Melissa is in her room, hunched over her slate, touching this reference and that one, moving them around, typing and speaking commentaries as she goes. She is carrying many loads. All of which get dumped when she sees me watching her.

  “I'm good,” she says. “Transcribing some of the notes that I took in the Ring. Cataloging the artifacts that we've found. There was an awful lot of ground to cover. Even though there wasn't really any actual ground, you know,” she smiles.

  I dip into her slate and take a quick scan of what she's been working on. “So this is what you were studying at Tau Ceti?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she assures. “It's been just incredible, what we've been finding. Xenoarcheology is such a new field anyway, practically everything we do is brand new and we have to figure out what to do as we go along.”

  “Xenoarchaeology. Study of extinct aliens. Am I getting that right?”

  “Yes.” Melissa explains, "They looked sort of like cuttlefish, but they used lots of cybernetic implants. Like us, they worked together with advanced AIs, but they implanted their AIs into their bodies. So people usually call them the Squidborg. We don't know what they called themselves, but it seems like they communicated with patterns of light, so it would probably be tough to make a direct translation.”