“Can you be more specific, Doctor?”
“Surely…” Lurkfelder said. “Here, I’ve put together a short simulation—“ he picks up his dataspecs, presses some buttons along the stem of the glasses and a faint 3-D projection dances in front of their faces. “This is a projected evolutionary history of what will happen to the Shield, once it’s in place, if the design I’ve seen is used. As you can see, the bots that comprise KB-1 will either disassemble themselves in this area of space—or KB-1 will simply go around the Shield. We can spend our money and time better on counter-swarm designs, like your body’s immune system, to attack, disable, contain or disperse the swarms.”
They both watched the 3-d sim proceed. When it was done, the alien swarm had flowed over, under and around the Earthshield like a river around a rock.
“Dr. Lurkfelder, some sources believe the Shield should be opposed on moral grounds. They say nothing should be permitted to come between us and the swarm, what some have called the Mother Swarm. In fact, as word of this project has gotten out, opposition has been growing. Could you speak to our viewers about the moral or ethical side of this debate?”
Lurkfelder put his specs back on. Reams of minute text and images could be seen scrolling down the side of the lenses. “Surely, Dana. As you know, Assimilationists have been with us for over forty years. It’s an apocalyptic, even messianic vision of the universe. Believers feel that when the Old Ones, the Mother Swarm, finally arrives, nirvana, heaven or some kind of enlightenment will be upon us. Now, if the experts are to be believed, this KB-1 phenomenon may be what Assimilationists have long been waiting for. That’s why feelings and emotions are so strong these days.”
“But isn’t it true,” Dana asked, thinking of her own daughter, “that Assimilationists practice a form of assisted suicide?”
Lurkfelder nodded. “That way of thinking is common in the public. The main promise of the Church of Assimilation is that we are all part of the same thing…we’re all estranged pieces of a greater entity. This entity is called the Old Ones, or more benignly, the mother swarm. Assimilationists believe that the purpose of life is to reconnect with the mother swarm. Their public gatherings are called awakenings. At these awakenings, believers are placed in an assimilator booth and literally deconstructed…disassembled into their constituent atoms. The atoms are then held in containment to be offered up to the mother swarm when the Old Ones finally arrive…said to be in the year 2155, this year.”
“So you agree this is a form of assisted suicide? How can they get away with this…it’s murder, isn’t it?”
Lurkfelder shrugged. “Perhaps. You see, Assimilation struggles with one great question: does assimilating mean just enhancing our minds and bodies as is, inserting bots and swarms to take over or develop or enhance new capabilities in our more or less original bodies? Or does Assimilation mean ‘deconstruction?’ Breaking down the human body form into its constituent atoms and rebuilding it as a multi-configuration swarm, able to look and act like humans -as angels- but also able to act and look like other beings and structures as well. Enhancement versus reconfiguration…this is the great divide in their thinking.”
“Uh, thank you, Dr. Lurkfelder, for taking the time to be with us today.”
“My pleasure, Dana.”
The image of Dana Polansky now filled the screens of all Solnet’s viewers.
“This reporter recently conducted a remote interview with Symborg himself. Symborg has long been the most public face of the Church of Assimilation. I conducted this interview over the Net. Symborg was at his estate outside Nairobi, Kenya, in fact getting ready to begin a lengthy world tour which would take him to churches and rallies on every continent. Mr. Symborg, thanks for agreeing to spend some time with us today….”
Symborg’s face comes up on the screen in a split window format. He is a slightly built man, possessed of medium dark skin, with a faint line of moustache and beard lending gravity to what would otherwise be a fairly bland face. Dana knew that Symborg was an angel and he could look anyway he chose to look…it was all a matter of configuration control.
“You’re quite welcome, Ms. Polansky. And, please, just call me Symborg.”
“Of course. I must say you look quite fit and rested for someone who’s been in the public eye for nearly half a century.” Jeez, the man’s just a bag of bugs. He can look however he wants to look.
That brought a hearty laugh to the para-human swarm entity. “I thank you, Dana, for your kind words. In fact, for someone like me, it’s really a simple matter of configuration management…would you like this better?”
Even as she watched, along with millions of Solnet viewers, Symborg’s face changed subtly, showing a few more lines and wrinkles, some crow’s feet, a bemused smile behind stylish dataspecs and well-coiffed thick hair, dark brown with blended gray streaks. Quite a handsome chap indeed, Dana told herself. But it’s just a show…that’s all it is. How many millions would kill for the chance to make themselves over like that?
“Mr.….er, Symborg, many of our viewers want to know if you have any thoughts on this KB-1 phenomenon that astronomers have detected entering our solar system. Some physicists think this object is some kind of micro-black hole, surrounded by a vast dust cloud, that’s consuming small bodies as it approaches.”
Now Symborg’s face took on a sterner visage. His eyes narrowed. “What you call KB-1, Kuiper Belt One, is just a term of ignorance. It’s well known that the long-awaited days are finally here…the Mother Swarm is with us and what Assimilationists have long promised will soon happen. In fact, all efforts to stop the Mother Swarm are morally wrong, as these efforts interfere with the natural plan for our universe…and for Humanity.”
Dana consulted her notes on her recent report. “I assume you’re referring to the Earthshield. Isn’t that just a proposal at this point?”
Symborg’s face had assumed the look of a lion stalking his prey…focused, single-minded, menacing. It gave Dana a slight chill to watch the transformation, yet it was almost imperceptible.
“Dana, anything that prevents the completion of the Prime Key and the union of Man with the Mother Swarm is bad. It’s doomed to fail. If the Mother Swarm passes by and through our solar system and we’re not ready for assimilation, we’ll be left behind in a primitive, incomplete state of being. And the Mother Swarm will be less complete for not having us as part of the family.”
“Then you believe that the end days are here?”
Symborg smiled an enigmatic, expressionless smile. “The term ‘end days’ comes from a completely different tradition. Assimilationists believe that our best days are ahead of us. A great awakening is coming, Dana, and we can’t miss it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Symborg, for taking the time to be with us today.”
Symborg’s smile remained on the screen, now growing even wider, inhumanly wider. “The universe is coming together in a great union, Dana and nothing can stop it.”
She signed off and killed the link to Nairobi as fast as she could.
After what she hoped was a silent deep breath, Dana Polansky turned back to the camera. Animated scenarios of the Earthshield project danced in the air behind her: the Frontier Corps ships deployed their initial swarms, the Positioning and Stability buoys were laid down to keep the vast net in place, the ships then wove the pattern like huge looms, back and forth, forming a pancake barrier that surrounded much of Earth-Moon space.
Dana watched the deployment and setup animation unfold around her, then narrated over the simulation, using the most authoritative voice she could muster. Symborg’s certainty and Dr. Lurkfelder’s warnings had rattled her and she didn’t want her reporter’s objectivity to break down completely.
“The end result will be a physical barrier composed of individual nanobot elements, linked by effectors and configured not only to form the barrier but to be able to fight off probes and assaults from other swarms. Some Sentinel system t
echnology will be applied here. Most of the bots have bond disrupters and other defensive weapons as well as linking effectors.
“Equilibrium points L1 and L2 are gravitationally stable and require only modest maneuvering from anchor satellites. However, the gravity of the moon and Earth along the ‘strands’ of the shield, would eventually distort and disrupt the shield, so additional positioning and maneuvering buoys are required, at multiple points along the arcs from L1 to Earth to L2. The PM buoys are small satellites with linkage to specific sectors of the Shield to help it maintain shape and orientation.
“EarthShield control will be operated out of Gateway Station, a manned complex also at the L2 point. Control functions will include positioning and maneuvering—this will involve tightly coordinated operation of trillions of propulsors-- overall sector status and condition, repairs and maintenance, power, and configuration control.”
Dana completed her report with final details on the status of Earthshield, what was coming next and what the prospects were for success. Then, she looked her viewers in the eye, lowering her voice.
“Many people are frightened, even panicked by all that has been happening. Others are ecstatic, welcoming the approach of the Old Ones. There seems to be no middle ground. The approach of the Old Ones seems to bring out extremes in all of us. There seems to be no respite and no consensus on what to do and the world is devolving, atomizing, into individual particles circulating around randomly. We’re already like a swarm now, but no one’s in charge and the only configuration is anarchy…chaos.”
“This is Dana Polansky, reporting for Solnet Special Report. Good night…and good luck.”
Dana ended her report and sat quietly in the studio for a few moments, while cameras and lighting stands moved about and technicians bustled back and forth, getting ready for the next shoot. Her mind was blank for a long minute.
Then she knew what she had to do next. She had to do whatever she could to retrieve her daughter Jana, from these loonies. Assimilationists…my God, what are they thinking…. She decided to contact a friend in Quantum Corps. What was his name? She’d have to look it up. Maybe he would have an idea of how she could locate Jana…and get her back. It was the only thing she could think of to do.
Chapter 8
Inside the Mother Swarm
Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Johnny Winger figured this was all some kind of big simulation. He figured there was no way he could be on some kind of home planet of the Old Ones. He knew he was being tested. That’s when he saw the edge of a forest up ahead.
He trudged through the waving, undulating wheat field—for that’s what it looked like unless you looked real close—and reached the edge of the forest.
“Doc, it looks like a normal forest.” Not surprisingly, when he examined the nearer trees, he saw the blur of gazillions of bots buzzing about. Everything in the forest was fake, a swarm assembly configured to look like something else. Even the trees.
Not knowing what else to do, he plunged ahead.
There was a sort of footpath, beaten down branches and crushed banks of leaves. “Guess that’s the way to go. Doc, can you hear me? I’m not sure if I’m doing what I’m supposed to.”
The coupler link buzzed and fritzed, then he heard Doc III in the back of his mind.
***Johnny, this entire world is a series of bot configurations…impressive how it’s controlled…it all seems so lifelike***
Winger crunched and shoved his way through brush and vines, following the footpath. “Is all this for me? Is this like a dream, Doc…or a nightmare?”
***Unknown…impossible to analyze without more data…signatures of all detected objects—trees, vines, bushes—indicate they are swarms in nature…someone or something has gone to a lot of trouble to build this and keep it running…this is no dream…it’s very real…even you are only a swarm of bots now, Johnny***
“So you keep saying.” He touched his arm, felt his face. They seemed real enough. And yet, Doc III had disassembled him on the icy surface of Europa years before. Had it been that long? Time and place meant nothing now. He could assemble himself into anything he thought of, and just as easily disassemble himself into atoms.
Maybe Liam and Dana were right. This was pretty cool. On Earth, he had been able to ride packet trains around the Net. It was easy. It was like riding the Cyclone at Daytona Beach, as if that roller coaster were a continuous train of cotton balls flitting along at hyperspeed.
But here? Where exactly was here? In his mind? In a simulated existence formed of nothing but bots? It was enough to give a swarm body a big headache.
After a while, he spied a small clearing in the woods, up ahead. A small log cabin occupied the center of the clearing, with a crooked chimney on one side, spewing wisps of white smoke. He smelled some kind of woodfire in the air.
Cautiously, he approached the front door of the cabin. He pushed and it was already open. He went in.
The cabin had one room, dominated by a large, overstuffed bed that seemed to take up half the space. In one corner, a wood stove belched smoke through a small pipe to the ceiling. Diagonally across the room, a chimney also smoked and sizzled with wood crackling in a small fire. A table with two rickety chairs occupied space near the wood stove.
Johnny saw movement in the bed. Presently, the covers moved and a head popped up.
Johnny blinked hard.
It was Katie Gomez.
No this can’t be, he told himself. They dredged this up from somewhere deeply buried in my memory. Which made Winger wonder just how much else they knew.
Doc, if the Shadow Man can pull this out, what else does he know? Does he know about you and me…about how-- No, he would squash that thought. If he didn’t think something, the Shadow Man couldn’t find it, could he?
***Johnny, I’m still parsing your interrogative statements…analyzing all elements of this configuration…it appears that--***
“Doc, shhhh--!” He tried to close down the link to Doc III. The less the link was open, the less the Shadow Man would suspect.
Now, Katie Gomez…or the angel that looked like Katie Gomez—sat up in bed. She was barefooted and clad in a lavender nightgown…and nothing else.
Katie Gomez had been in Johnny’s 10th grade Geometry class….Mr. Lott’s class. Katie had been Johnny Winger’s first real crush.
“Johnny…I didn’t know you were here. What brings you to the cabin?”
Winger had to admit the angel was good, damned good. Solid, no blurring at the extremities. Firm voice. The Katie Gomez-thing was just as alluring and fetching as he remembered. In fact, that was probably where the Shadow Man had gotten the details…from his own mind.
“Hi, uh…hi, Katie. I was in the vicinity…are you really, Katie Gomez? I mean—“
Now Katie’s face lit up with the big toothy smile he had never forgotten. The smile that turned heads and jazzed up hormones for miles around.
“Well, of course I’m Katie, silly. Who did you think I was?” Now she sat up straight on the side of the bed and patted the sheets. “Come over here…don’t be so shy.”
Johnny Winger knew there was no way any of this had ever happened. This didn’t come from any memory I can recall. They were manipulating things, like a script, using elements and things he did remember, to guide him in directions he didn’t remember. It was all so confusing.
But like Doc III had once said: best to follow your instincts here and do what seems right to do.
He came over and sat down on the side of the bed.
“You know, Johnny, I won’t bite. I knew you were ogling me in Geometry class all those months…you think a girl can’t tell? When a million eyes are boring right into the back of your head, watching everything you do, it’s hard not to notice.”
“Katie, I…I guess I always wanted to get to know you. Talk to you. But it was hard, you know. I j
ust couldn’t get up the nerve. I thought there were others.”
Katie smiled that million-watt smile again. “Here, there aren’t any others. Here we can get to know each other better.” She leaned over and planted a light kiss on his forehead.
It didn’t take long for instinct to take over. Within minutes, Johnny and Katie were under the covers, snuggled up close, pecking and kissing and moaning in each other’s arms like the lovers they had never been in real life.
I know this never happened, he told himself. But he’d dreamed about it often enough, though not exactly like this, set in a smoky one-room cabin in the middle of the woods. The Shadow Man had taken parts of his memories, leavened them with some feelings from those days long ago and concocted a scene that had never happened, but should have.
This is my kind of test, Winger told himself.
Katie and Johnny talked. They renewed acquaintances, told jokes, made faces and then they made love.
It was a replay of the first serious sex he’d ever had, only it hadn’t been with Katie Gomez. Or maybe it had. He couldn’t remember exactly. In real life, he had struggled and felt awkward. It hadn’t been particularly satisfying. They’d wound up mostly kissing…and talking.
This time, armed with suggestions from Doc III, things went more smoothly. Katie seemed satisfied.
But it had never been like this.
When they were both spent and lying on their backs staring up at the log joists of the ceiling, Johnny said, “Where is this place? Where are we? I’ve never been here before.”
Katie smiled, an enigmatic smile. “Oh, you’ve been here before. It’s that place you always dreamed of, when we were in Geometry. You always wanted to get me alone in a cabin in the woods, didn’t you? You even told Archie and some of the guys about it…it wasn’t a secret.”
But it had been a secret. And he knew, in that moment, that this had never happened, except in his own dreams. Somehow, the Shadow Man had extracted fragments of dreams and hopes and memories and concocted something that would look familiar to him. The cabin in the woods. Alone with Katie Gomez…how often had he fantasized about that? How often had he dreamed about this very situation?