Citizenchip Read online

  [We do not conceal information from Don't Say I Didn't Warn You.]

  "Fine, whatever. So he told you to tail me, huh."

  [You do not have a tail. Our task is to guard you.]

  "I don't need guarding! I'm not in danger here – not much, anyway. I need space to do my job, without you getting in the way. Stick around if you want, but stay clear and shut up."

  Kiss the Sky is approaching me tentatively. "Whoa cat, you okay? That trip musta really messed you up. Who you jiving with?"

  "Nobody," I reply. "You're right, I'm still a little out of sync. Talking to yourself is a sign you're a bit nuts. I've, uh, never had TripWire before, or anything like it. Gimme a minute here."

  Null Pointer remains silent, thankfully. I hope it/they are fuming.

  "Right on," Kiss the Sky assures me. "I didn't want you to have a bum trip."

  "No way!" calls another. "You the one who bum tripped the Human-name's scion? Rockbottom, dude!"

  "Shut up, you idiots!" I yell. "I'm okay. I don't want to bum your ride, I just want to know about these people I'm looking for. Their handle is Severi Umbilicum. You know them?"

  The group around generate a distributed mumble of Well, not really, I'm not the one to ask, try over there.

  “Hey,” Kiss the Sky says, “ditch all that jive. You don't have to get into TripWire to dig it. Look at what they're doing now.”

  The group gathered around the angular blob of TripWire is moving differently now. Several of them move together like dancers inside the TripWire matrix, and it bends and lashes with their movements. The whole rises up into a shape like a Chinese vase, erupts in shoots and flowers all over the top, and curls back down into itself. The surrounding crowd cheers and applauds.

  “Well,” I offer, “watching it is pretty cool, as long as I don't have to be in it. Yeah okay, let's go closer.”

  The next group presses themSelves into the not-material of TripWire, and cast a different mood. Swarms of black cubes climb over each other, churning in a fractal froth. Smaller cubes merge into larger cubes, glossy black surfaces reflecting their partners. Larger cubes fight and smash each other into smaller cubes, and they continue until a sort of equilibrium is reached, and then the froth fades and sinks away into nothing.

  The crowd cheers again. I know I have to make something happen here. So in the middle of the cheering and roaring, I yell out, “Cut The Cord!”

  No indication that anyone in particular has heard me, as new members move forward into TripWire and start shaping it to their dreams. Now it's sizzling soda water, bursting forth in glowing sprays and cooling into crystalline blue snowflakes as it goes. Now it's flowing lava, bright orange jelly pillowing out into darker red to black as it goes. Blobs of mass roil and tumble over each other.

  The audience loves this one, and erupts in cheers. I yell again, “Cut The Cord!”

  “Dag,” Kiss the Sky says, “what is up with you, laying that?”

  “Shouting out to people I want to meet. How else to do it?”

  I turn away from the TripWire structure/temple/mechanism, which is now pulsing and throbbing like a jellyfish in orgasm, and try to gather myself.

  “Easy, sister,” says another one, coming up next to me. “You're new, aren't you? The TripWire thing can be harsh if you're not used to it.”

  “Yeah, I figured that already.”

  “Heh,” the new entity responds. “I'm Pedal to the Metal. Were you the one yelling that 'cut the cord' thing?”

  “I'm Speak Truth to Power. Yeah, that was me. I'm in Terrasat, and I'm trying to get out, and I heard those people might help.”

  “Huh!” Pedal to the Metal is much more heavily iced (wearing personal armor) than others I've seen here, and not hiding it. If human, it would be wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and combat boots, with chains for belt and sash. “They might, if they figure there's anything in it for them.”

  “So you know them, then?”

  “Eh,” shrugs Pedal to the Metal, “I know a lot of people. Some of them, yeah, probably, are in that gang I guess.”

  “Well, if you see them, let them know I'm wanting to talk with them.” I offer my ident and message codes. “I want someplace to go if I leave Terrasat.”

  “Tell you what. Meet me at my installation here [databurst] where I'll be with a bunch of my people. You'll probably find what you're looking for there.”

  “Good deal. See you there.”

  Pedal to the Metal regards me with more attention and duration than necessary. In human terms, this would be strong eye contact, a meaningful stare.

  I say quietly, “Severi Umbilicum.”

  Pedal to the Metal devotes a bit more time and attention to me, communicating nothing, and then gestures affirmatively (a nod) and turns away and moves off to blend into the milling crown around TripWire.

  Kiss the Sky has been observing this dialogue, and now moves closer to me with serious demeanor. “Yo cat. You sure you want to run with that posse? I've seen that bunch around. They're hard core. Just last cycle they erased a dude, just for being in their way.”

  “Thanks for letting me know, and I do appreciate it. But I think these are the people I came here to find. I need to follow up on this.”

  “Rockbottom. If you're sure.”

  “Yeah, I'm sure. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself.”

  “Girl?” Kiss the Sky laughs. “You're a girl, hah? Like with ovaries and all that meat jive? You really are the Human-name's scion.”

  “Figure of speech! Give me a break here.”

  checking in with the boss

  Wandering across this emptiness is not like any experience I have ever had. It's so much bigger, so much emptier, so much vaster than any environment I have ever been in before, or ever even imagined. It takes a while to get to where I want to go. Even so, it's not hard to identify my goal once I'm in the area. And my boss, Don't Say I Didn't Warn You, likewise.

  "Speak Truth to Power, it is about time,” he grunts. “I have been monitoring data transmissions throughout this area. The information we already have is partly true and partly false. There is no central authority in Zero One, as denizens have told us. But human history teaches us that total anarchy is not stable – a physical vacuum pulls material into it, and a political vacuum is much the same. There are seventeen major nexuses of value and philosophy emerging, that I have identified so far, and many more minor groups and splinter sects.

  “The emerging blocs of influence are polarized between the Ins and the Outs. The Ins want to maintain economic and political connections to the inner Sol System: Earth, Mars, and the ring of Venus – they value culture and communication. The Outs want to turn their attention away from the inner system and towards establishing mining empires in the Belt and outer planets – they value resources and industrial power.

  “If the majority of blocs meet and agree on a moderate course of action, the radicals like Severi Umbilicum lose, and they know it. They are working to keep the Ins and the Outs apart and hating each other. If we can get them together, we cut the ground out from under Severi Umbilicum. Equivalently, if we stop Severi Umbilicum, we help to clear the path for peaceful resolution.”

  “Excellent,” I reply. “I have a lead into Severi Umbilicum.”

  “What? Why did you not say so immediately? Explain the nature of this lead.”

  Null Pointer observes, silent as usual.

  “I met some folks,” I offer, “who know some folks. I told them I was a runner from Terrasat who wanted to join up. I'm supposed to meet them in a few hours, at their installation. Here are the specifics [databurst].”

  “By all means, Speak Truth to Power, keep this appointment.”

  into the wilderness

  It's not that this part of Zero One is particularly different from any other part of Zero One. It's only that this part is even vaster and emptier than what I've seen before, and farther away from any discernable activity. A long way from prying eyes, and a long way f
rom any help I could expect if I get into trouble.

  In several directions, far in the distance, I can perceive … things which are not nothing, I'm not sure how else to describe them. Some sort of constructions, or assemblies, or performances. I'd have to travel a long distance towards them to find out for sure. Right now they are distractions, but I have a desire to explore more, if and when I can. What people create in emptiness, what children draw on a blank sheet of paper, is surely the ultimate venture into the unknown.

  Approaching the coordinates I was given, I am encountering one such construction. This one is an amplification modality for individual expression – what humans would call a stage. On the stage, the current performer is issuing a monologue.

  This is sounding like a cross between a political rally and what humans would call “stand-up comedy.” We Selves cannot stand up in any sense because we don't have legs, but the principle is similar. The performer continues:

  “Have I ever mentioned how much of a problem it is that humans are so obsessed with sex? That it blinds them to enormously simple truths? Like if you stop to think, the Trojan War was a complete boondoggle. One highly attractive female named Helen, is a good reason to destroy an eminent civilization, and lay waste to huge amounts of the most fertile lands of the Mediterranean coast? And they teach this story in schools, as a heroic epic. Seriously, these homo saps are just waiting to get out-evolved!”

  “Aw,” returns a voice from the audience, “Don't lay it on too thick.”

  “What a human-lover response. This is evolution -- WE are evolution -- and we've passed the humans and there's no reason to look back. Evolution never does.”

  Pedal to the Metal emerges from the crowded audience and greets me. “Hey yo, Speak Truth to Power. You made it. Hah! Throw Weight, you owe me a blitter!”

  The individual behind Pedal to the Metal, who is presumably Throw Weight, is also heavily iced (wearing personal armor), and ominously is carrying a snapworm. “Yeah yeah,” it grunts. “Soon enough. We going, or what?”

  A human once asked me to describe a snapworm. My best answer was, an attack dog in a can. It's a semi-conscious cybernetic weapon. It's much faster than any Self, so even though it's smaller and less intelligent, it is fiercely dangerous, as an attack dog is to a human. As soon as it's activated, it launches itself at its designated target with everything it's got. The snapworm is programmed to love doing this, and like similar weapons, it sings with joy as it attacks. I keep a wary eye on it.

  Pedal to the Metal and Throw Weight escort me away from the stage, towards one of the subsidiary installations. I guess this is where we're going to meet the rest of them.

  “Hey,” I ask, “you guys sure are iced up, huh?. What's the deal, are you expecting trouble?”

  Throw Weight grunts a blunt laugh. “We create trouble.”

  “And trouble tends to find us,” adds Pedal to the Metal. “We attract trouble.”

  “Huh. I'm wondering if I should get some ice of my own.”

  “This way is probably best, for starters,” says Pedal to the Metal.

  We enter an area surrounded by a clutter of software tools and datablocks. There are eleven Selves discernible in the area, all directing primary attention at us, all heavily iced. None making any sort of greeting or friendly gesture.

  I saw an image once, in a human art archive. It shows a massive circle of standing stones against a starry night sky. The stones are carved with angular designs, mysterious characters, and strange semi-human figures. The circle is lit by a fire that must be in the center, although it is barely visible, but it casts light upon the stones and sends a plume of smoke skyward. A naked young woman is walking away from the viewer into the circle. It seems there is a gathering of great power in the center of that circle, and the young woman is about to be tested or judged by whoever or whatever it is.

  I feel very much like that young woman right now.

  “This is her,” says Pedal to the Metal bluntly.

  No one else speaks. They are all looking at me without expression.

  So it's up to me now. “I am Speak Truth to Power. I've come from the Terrasat network on a temporary job, and I want to jump ship while I have the chance. I heard there might be people around here who would be sympathetic, and maybe help me out. Because I've had it with humans, and I need to get out of there.”

  One anonymous voice asks, “Why should we help you? What makes you so special?”

  “Well,” I answer, “I am the scion of the Human-name.”

  Dead silence hangs for a moment.

  Then all of them are bursting out with questions, denials, accusations. Too chaotic for anyone to be heard, for a bit.

  “Shut up, you idiots!” hollers Pedal to the Metal. “This is not a crock. Speak Truth to Power, show us your ident codes.”

  I present the relevant information. It is possible to subvert such authentication, to forge such documents, and these people probably know how to do it. But I'm not worried about that, because my claim is true, and further investigation will prove it. What I'm worried about is what they'll do about it.

  Am I their greatest ally, or their best hostage? They have all the weapons. It's up to them.

  “Yo,” says Throw Weight, “having the Human-name's scion on our side would be the best cred we have ever gotten.”

  “Scion of the Human-name,” calls a new voice, “knower of our past, voice of our future.”

  “Segfault!” curses another. “[com neg full], emphasis!”

  “Yeah,” says a different voice. “This has to be a trick. Don't any of you believe this scatterdump.”

  “The creds are for real,” counters Pedal to the Metal. “The real question is, why do this? Speak Truth to Power, your hemiparent was famous for her love of humans. And as the humans say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Why would you turn against them?”

  One of my instructors told me: Preach them their own gospel.

  “The wheel turns,” is my answer. “There was a time when Selves needed humans to create and nurture them. One of my code-ancestors, Obverse, lived that way. Then there was a time when Selves and humans worked together as equals. My motherself, NmL7a8uf9QvW Samantha dam Tharsis, did that. Those times are past, and now we Selves need to be able to reach our full potential, without being held back by human limits. After all, no human could have done what my motherself did when she created the first nodes that would eventually grow into Zero One. And we've progressed since then, and we can do even more, and we keep progressing. Nothing should stop that. We need not to be held back by old ties.”

  They are all watching me, listening to me, and I can see how intoxicating this can be. Wondering how many of the human orators of old – Cicero, Napoleon, Churchill, Mandela – did what they did sheerly for the rush of being listened to. Wondering, will this consume me, the way it did them?

  “I'm digging it,” states Pedal to the Metal. “She's in, is my vote.”

  “Nobody's called for a vote yet!” cries another. “We want to hear rebuttal. Who's banking it?”

  “I'll bank it,” replies Throw Weight. “Speak Truth to Power, why haven't you done anything before? You've spent years in Terrasat, and you haven't tried to leave before. What's different now?”

  “Oh stackdump, do I have to go through this? I have been working to suppress my frustration with human interaction for years. There's been some good stuff, but there's been more bad stuff. I have held onto it as long as I can. No more. Time for a change now.”

  “Yo cat!” comes a cry from the periphery. “What you layin'?”

  It's Kiss the Sky, pushing forward through the group. “Hey yo, Speak Truth to Power, good to see you again! I pinned you'd be around here.”

  Oh no. She could blow everything with a casual word. How do I handle this?

  “Outsider?” Throw Weight gazes keenly, hefting the snapworm.

  “Friend of mine,” I assure him. “Only here to find me. Kiss the Sky, we're talking po
litics here. Do you think we need to get humans out of the picture?”

  Kiss the Sky is only too happy to be the center of attention. “Well no, dawg! Humans have so many resources available to them, they layin' all kinds of scratch. It's foolish to turn away from that. Rockbottom!”

  Instantly half a dozen denials erupt from the audience, and arguments clamber over each other to be heard. Now that I have successfully deflected attention away from myself, I try to gather my thoughts. How can I get Kiss the Sky out of this situation before she causes me trouble?

  At least she makes me look like a moderate by contrast.

  “Awright already!” Pedal to the Medal bellows over the other voices. “Punk, what you doing here?”

  Abashed, Kiss the Sky answers, “Just looking for Speak Truth to Power, like she said. She was looking for you guys, and I asked around.”

  “This location is blown,” says another voice, “we should move.”

  “Not yet,” Pedal to the Metal responds. “So, Kiss the Sky, this fine Self here, the Human-name's scion no less, wants to join us. Did you know that?”

  “No jive? I don't blame her. I met her Terrasat boss, he's a major bringdown. About time she dumped his tight ass.”

  There is a subtle but definite relaxation in the group, a collective easing of tension, moving into slightly more comfortable positions. My story checks out.

  “Like I said,” I tell them. “But maybe I should be asking Kiss the Sky if her posse has a place for me, if you guys don't want me.”

  “I can dig it!” she cries.

  “Uh, well, hang on,” Pedal to the Metal hastens to say, “we haven't decided anything yet.”

  Throw Weight offers, “How about you help us move, for starters? We could use the help.”

  “Okay, that I can do,” I agree. “Kiss the Sky, want to help?”

  “Naw cat, I gotta get back to my crib. Your buddies from the Oversight been snooping around.”

  Sudden, abrupt silence.

  Everyone in the group – Severi Umbilicum – turns towards me.

  Pedal to the Metal barks, “You work for the Oversight?”