Stolen Earth, page 22
Gray was silent for a moment, turning the question over in his mind. Why were they so willing to accept One?
“Several reasons,” he temporized. “Hayer is clearly a special case. Before today, I wouldn’t have been able to answer on her behalf.”
“Yes,” One acknowledged. “I believe I have a more thorough understanding of Dr. Hayer’s acceptance of me.”
“Right. Me, Federov, and Bishop, then.” He cleared his throat and reached out to take a sip from the glass of water on his desk. Stalling for time. “I guess the first part is that we’ve all been out of SolComm for a good while. Operating out on the Fringe. We’ve seen firsthand the difference between the galaxy SolComm tells us exists and the one that the people actually live in. Propaganda is a lot less believable when your choice is starvation or forced labor.”
“From the data I have gathered, your government makes a reasonable effort to prevent loss of life.”
“Yeah,” Gray said, sarcasm dripping from the word. “They’re saints. Look, I put on the uniform. Believed in the cause. For a while. And yeah, SolComm does a lot of good. That’s part of the problem.”
“I do not understand,” One replied. “How is doing good part of the problem?”
“It’s not.” There was silence from One and Gray had to laugh. “Sorry. I know that’s probably rough on the old logic circuits.”
“This statement is false. This statement is false. This statement is false.”
One spoke in a strange, robotic fashion that Gray had never heard from the AI. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Of course, Captain,” One replied in its normal tone. “Merely an attempt at levity. Believe it or not, I am capable of processing the notion of a statement being both true and false, depending upon perspective. In fact, if you would like, I could explain to you the underlying quantum mechanics that could predicate an actual example of something being both true and false, though you will have to be willing to accept the idea of several dimensions that are not part of your current conceptualization of the universe.”
“No,” Gray said at once, holding up his hands. “That’s perfectly all right. I’m having enough trouble with you having a sense of humor. I’m not ready for multiple realities or whatever.”
“If you change your mind…” One trailed off and Gray was, once again, left with the sensation that the AI was joking. “To return to the topic at hand, how is doing good simultaneously the problem and not the problem?”
Gray sighed. “Look, people are social animals. We naturally associate. The headshrinkers have known for years that isolation does funny things to us. So, we’re going to come together. Form tribes. Someone’s going to either be put in charge or take power. That’s all good and natural and fine. But power does funny things to people and, somewhere along the line, the people in power stop being the ones that everyone thinks should be in power and start being the ones that seek power.”
“Political dynasties were a part of everyday life for most citizens on this planet,” One acknowledged. “And it is true that within the nations under my protection, the only people to ascend to high political office were those who were already wealthy.” One paused. “It does not necessarily follow that this results in trying to do good and it being a problem.”
“No, it doesn’t. But it does mean that the people in charge end up having little idea of how the rest of the solar system lives. SolComm is no different. If you look at our Commonwealth, the political structure is supposed to be a representative democracy. In practice, though, when it comes to our government leaders, you see the same names, over and over again, from generation to generation. The primary drive for those in power is to remain in power, and the policy that flows as a result of that…” Gray trailed off, trying to put his jumbled thoughts into words.
“At some point,” he said at last, “the people that sit in the highest halls of SolComm forgot that they started out with the goal of protecting everyone. No one living today knows exactly what it was like during the End, when they were pulling every soul they could from the surface of Old Earth and cramming them into every nook and cranny on every station and ship they could find. But I’ve had to make some hard decisions, One, the kind of decisions that put people’s lives at risk. The kind of decisions that got people—and not all of them bad or guilty people—killed. And even with that, I can’t imagine the toll it would take to have to abandon a large chunk of humanity, to wall them off with the IZ, all out of a fear that the war could spread. How can any government, formed in that environment, born out of that amount of fear, last?”
“I suspect the only way it could last would be through constant maintenance of that fear.”
“Exactly.” Gray didn’t hide the anger in his voice. “Exfucking-actly. In SolComm’s eyes, Old Earth is the looming threat. But building the IZ wasn’t enough. Because once it went up, people started to think, ‘Maybe we’re safe now.’ And if they were safe, maybe they didn’t need the massive spending that crippled the economy and effectively enslaved the majority of the population but somehow managed to make the rich even richer. So, for the past century, SolComm has sold fear. And everyone’s buying. Hell, it took me years of being on the inside to see the corruption, the rot. To see the money that was supposed to be going to make us safer somehow finding its way into the pockets of the procurement people, the politicians, everyone but the people who actually needed it.
“But the corrupt assholes aren’t the worst ones. I understand them. They’re full of shit, but at least they know they’re full of shit. No. The worst ones are the believers. The people who are so terrified of their own shadows that they buy in wholesale to the narrative of fear. They put their nose to the grindstone and accept the meager leavings from the tables of their betters, and they pontificate on how it makes them somehow morally superior. Those are the ones that really piss me off. Because they truly think they’re doing the right thing and that anyone who thinks different isn’t just wrong, they’re stupid and quite possibly evil. I’ve had to clean up too many messes, put down too many fledgling rebellions that were covered up as ‘accidents,’ to have any patience with that sort.
“But, yeah, SolComm keeps the lights on,” Gray finished with a sigh. “You have to give them that. People who fall in line get a calorie balance sufficient to live and most of them get a job that, provided they spend fourteen or fifteen hours a day doing it, guarantees them a few years of rest, eventually. No one dies for lack of healthcare. And all it costs is a willingness to play along with the idea that everything is fine.”
“I can understand why you have chosen to break with the norms and mores of your people,” One said. There was something about that monotone that was oddly cathartic for Gray. It was the complete lack of judgment, he realized. So complete as to be almost alien. Even the SolCommNav-mandated shrinks couldn’t achieve that level of detachment.
“Yeah. Which brings me right back to the fact that I’m about to take my crew into danger and the entire reason we’re here in the first place was that it was the only way to earn some credits outside of the loving embrace of SolComm.”
“Perhaps,” One agreed. “But your initial reasoning need not inform upon your current reasoning.”
“Come again?” Gray asked.
“You came here out of desperation. This is an understandable facet of human nature. When faced with the loss of loved ones or its way of life—in this case, the independence and control allowed to you by the Arcus—humanity often takes great risks. Those who failed in such times were called fools and forgotten. But those who succeeded represent a disproportionally high number of the names most remembered in your history.”
“I don’t need to be remembered, One. I just want my crew to come through this. I don’t want to get them killed over some fuel in the tanks.”
“Had you died when you first touched down, that may have been the case, and you would have been remembered as foolish, had anyone lived to remember you at all. Instead, you have freed me. Your Ms. Morales understands the gravity of that event, though she has reached the wrong conclusion on the significance. I do not believe that the rest of your crew—with the possible exception of Dr. Hayer—have fully grasped the potential impact of what you have done. You have, by virtue of your actions, ended a war that has been raging for a century. That is no small accomplishment. And you are endeavoring to free some of the last humans born on Old Earth from enforced servitude.” There was a pause. “It is quite possible, Captain, that by the time all is said and done, your crew will have accomplished more to aid your species than any have in a century. That does, perhaps, lend weight to the notion that you are not risking your lives for naught.”
Damn. SolComm had preached the evils of artificial intelligence to their citizenry and their navy for as long as Gray could remember. But One, at least, seemed a far cry from the unfeeling killing machines they had all been warned about. Hell, the damn thing was downright comforting and more human than some of the people he’d met during his stint in SolCommNav. He didn’t bear One any ill will—in fact, Gray found himself actually starting to like the AI. And that was a proposition both comforting… and alarming. Because no matter how right Hayer was, Morales wasn’t wrong. Regardless of the reasons why, regardless of the specific mechanics, artificial intelligences had destroyed the world. Perhaps it had been done at the direction of their makers; perhaps they had no choice in the matter. But the reasons didn’t change the results.
Gray groaned and rubbed his hands through his hair. One was powerful. Powerful enough to help them. Maybe even help restore part or all of something humanity had lost. But if it didn’t apply that power judiciously, the AI could cause serious harm. Even if it had no intention of doing so, a miscalculation or misapplication of force could prove deadly. And Gray was acutely aware of the fact that the AI was something outside their control; it might be inclined to help them, but One had a mind—and objectives—of its own. He had to remember that, no matter how personally likable he found the entity.
“All right,” Gray grunted. “Enough wallowing in it, I suppose. If you’re right, then it’s time to suit up and save humanity. I presume you’ve been following my navigation projections?”
“That is correct, Captain Lynch. Your path, along with my changes to your anti-detection software packages, should provide you adequate approach vectors. I would recommend moving your landing site one hundred meters due west. It is difficult to see on your topographical data, but there is a shallow ravine that runs close to that spot that will provide you excellent cover until you are close to the off-world installation. The ravine was part of the original irrigation system of the area and the current occupants have set up their operation close to it.”
Gray noted it in his data. “All right, One. If that’s it, I think I’m going to try to get some rest until nightfall.”
“Of course, Captain. Would you like me to wake you up when the sun sets?”
It was the type of question that he would have expected from a standard onboard computer, the sort of limited intelligence that was little more than a voice-recognition program wrapped around a database of the most likely phrases and the programmatic responses to them. It was disarming, to be sure, but part of Gray couldn’t help but wonder if it was insidious as well. Was One trying to be helpful? Or did it have enough understanding of the human condition to know that the offer would most likely set the crew at ease and make them view it as closer to what they were used to, and therefore less dangerous.
That was certainly a cheery thought to fall asleep to.
“Thanks, One,” he said in response. “I think I can handle it.”
* * *
Gray’s eyes opened precisely one minute before the alarm he had set would have gone off and he muttered a quick command to the computer—the ship’s computer, not One—to preemptively silence it. Then he stood and stretched.
His cabin was small, and in stretching he could very nearly touch the walls. It was no different from any other berth aboard the Arcus. Space was tight and air and fuel weren’t cheap, and captain or no, the Arcus was as much a business concern as a ship. Had the vessel possessed a true captain’s quarters that adhered to the time-honored tradition of rank and privileges, he would have turned it down. Besides, proximity to the bridge was more important to him than any amount of space.
Gray showered and, for the first time in his life, he actually considered the process. Step beneath the nozzle. Get blasted with a brief spray of water. Soap up. Get hit with another brief spray of water. He had seen the old vids, with their long, luxurious showers and billowing clouds of steam. And like the rest of the Commonwealth, he’d been taught about the waste. Water was a precious commodity after all, sacred to life. And while it wasn’t exactly in short supply across the solar system, it was often difficult to extract and heavy enough to take up significant tonnage on any vessel.
And on Old Earth, something like seventy percent of the surface was covered in water. Oh, sure, Gray knew that you couldn’t drink ocean water. The history classes were clear on that. But SolComm had developed endless purification methods to make water taken from places toxic to human life perfectly safe. He doubted the salt content or whatever it was that made the oceans undrinkable would be an issue. And that said nothing of the… what were they called? Lakes? And rivers, streams. Fucking rain. Perfectly drinkable water falling from the skies like so much manna from the heavens. One of the most precious elemental constructions, second only to air itself, and it flowed freely across the surface of the homeworld.
It was here, on Old Earth.
And they’d been denied it.
It was entirely possible that the proto-SolComm had acted in good faith. And since the IZ was, in effect, an opaque barrier, maybe in those early days, it had been a question of out of sight, out of mind.
It was a stretch, Gray thought, but maybe not as big of a stretch as it first sounded. Sure, from a pure technological standpoint, it would be a simple matter for whoever controlled the keys of the IZ to get information out. But part of the reason the Interdiction Zone was built in the first place was to prevent signal leakage and potential electronic contamination from the planet. From the perspective of SolComm, the IZ was a wall under siege and if you went poking your head over it, you might just catch a bullet to the face. So instead, they just kept building the wall higher and higher, adding layers of physical and electronic security, and keeping their heads so firmly down behind the wall that they might as well have been buried in the sand.
Of course, that didn’t explain the presence of off-worlders—other off-worlders, that was—on Old Earth now, nor the levels of equipment they had managed to bring. That whole setup smelled worse than unfiltered air recirculated through environmental reclamation. And it certainly smacked of corruption and collusion if not outright involvement from SolComm. Given the use of the Old Earth-born population as a conscripted workforce, and almost certainly worse, Gray really didn’t want to dwell on that.
He toweled off, using the vigorous motion of the cloth through his short hair to try to scrub the thoughts from his head. Then he pulled on his ship suit and headed for the bridge. The other stations were empty so as he settled into the pilot’s chair, he keyed his comm. “All right, people,” he said, “it’s just about time to get this show on the road. Check in when you’re at your stations.”
“Engineering’s ready, Captain,” Bishop said at once. Gray knew that Bishop probably hadn’t bothered to sleep and had likely been tinkering with the engines the entire time. That notion was confirmed half a heartbeat later when Bishop added, “I’ve got things tuned just right down here, Cap. One was able to help me tweak some of the software and we’ve gained three or four points of efficiency. We’ll get the same power with less burn, so that should help on the stealth front, too.”
“Roger that,” Gray replied calmly. He kept his own ambivalence toward One running rampant in their systems from his voice. The crew couldn’t stop the AI from doing so, whatever they wished. They might as well make use of it. But he was too much the naval officer to turn over total trust in his table of organization and equipment to an uncertain ally.
The hatch to the bridge opened and Federov entered. He dropped into the chair at the weapons station without a word. He still looked groggy and, from what Gray could tell, hadn’t bothered with a shower, though he’d clearly gotten some sleep. “Ready,” was all he said.
“I’m good to go, too,” Morales said over the comm. She didn’t have a direct assignment during shipboard actions and was generally relegated to damage control, which meant she had probably stationed herself in the recreation room and mess hall that was roughly central to the Arcus. They hadn’t yet been so unfortunate as to take direct fire on the ship yet, though it had been close a time or two. If they ever were going to get shot at, it would be on this damnable mission. Having someone who could afford to do little things like close malfunctioning hatches or put out fires that might otherwise kill them all was handy, and coming from station security, Morales had plenty of training in those types of operations.
“I’m on my way,” Hayer said over the comm. A moment later, the hatch to the bridge opened and the academic dropped into the sensor station. She seemed somehow… lighter to Gray. She was sitting a little straighter than normal and the set of her shoulders was squarer, more confident. She’d been the one most opposed to the mission, but provided they survived, Gray suspected she would emerge a very different woman. Or, maybe, one a little more like the person she was before she found herself on the wrong side of the law. She glanced over at him and gave him a smile and a thumbs-up. “Good to go, Captain.”
“I’ll be monitoring you as well,” One said, monotonic voice sounding over the intercoms. “As I said, I cannot provide you with direct support that your Commonwealth might trace back to me, but I may be able to feed you some useful tidbits of information from time to time.”
