“Up these steps,” Jonr said, switching on the lights.
“Does anybody else come here?”
“Nope. Only me and Kris, occasionally.”
At the top of the third flight of steps, Jonr led Ishmael into a row of offices and down to one at the end. On a dais, rested a black plate. Jonr concentrated and the screen switched on.
“We could do this telepathically but I’m not keen on the security implications right now. I guess you probably have something better in Supercity. What was your job?”
“Journalist.”
“Here we go. This is the central archive of Tri-mex. Tri-mex started out as Trion, over two billion years ago, when Capitalism still ruled economies. It became big enough to control whole continents and people were born into the company, much like earlier nationalities. But, as you know, the three Great Wars each destroyed whole colonies including Earth itself. God knows how far we would have developed if it had’t been for these Wars, the Billion Year War being the worst. Did you know the oldest human lived to be 923 years old? The average age around the last billenium was 390! Now, we are lucky if we see 200! Don’t talk to me about Conservation! Anyway, long before that, Capitalism failed and Trion had to diversify. They added two arms; robotics and spaceships and this is the very last facility of theirs that I know of. Read this.”
Ishmael stepped onto the dais and scanned the page in a fraction of a second. He used the cursor to turn pages and finished the company report within a few seconds. He regurgitated the main points;
“So Tri-mex claim to have maintained a generation of super-androids, which they called the C-class. They claim that they are distinguished by a Maker’s Tag, or Mtag, which is not biodegradable. They also claim that the C-class androids are indistinguishable from humans, except for the means of recharging, through a socket in the mouth. The C-class can have sex, procreate and go through various stages of youth until adulthood. That matches my life precisely! Too bad it is mere fantasy!”
“Is it? Tri-mex records that the first C-class had been identified in the Third Milennum but its origin never established. Tri-mex believed that the C-class have existed since the mid 20th Century but no proof could be found. Only 200,000 existed and vanished from sight in 1944, only to reappear 100 years later, at the start of the Great Wars. They had a bizarre cover story to explain this. What do you think the explanation might be?”
“I know all about the C-class, and the explanation. They cloned hominids to create … you! They existed millions of years before clones and may have come from Universe B. I explained all this to Chance. We even have proof in the form of tensi; tiny Maker’s Stamps within the DNA helix … .”
“That’s rubbish. Tensi have been proven to be vestigial; many species have them and it’s basically DNA trash that has disappeared over the centuries.”
Ishmael paused for a moment, surprized at Jonr’s vehemence, before continuing:
“The C-class vanished because they wanted humans to develop robots on their own. They explained their reappearance by fabricating a story that a Military Defence network went ‘conscious,’ and began to build the C-class androids as drones to defend it.”
“I believe you are a C-class android. Only they tell this story.”
“I am a C-class Citizen. There are only 200,000 of us. That much is true. But the rest of your story is a fabrication. Only clones can lie.”
“Chance said you admitted you could lie.”
Ishmael did not respond.
“Let me show you something else,” Jonr suggested. He found another page and Ishmael began digesting the information.
Ishmael read the summary report of Project Protect. The project would be the last that Tri-mex would be assigned, and basically amounted to the design of twenty special Control-chips, or C-chips, which could traverse the increasing number of Reality Breaks expected near the beginning of the Big Crunch, the collapse of the Universe. The C-chips had to be designed to be fitted to C-class androids only and the class were not to be aware of the process. As a result, Tri-mex believed that the C-class androids might be the first in history to attain consciousness, but the Company’s R&D department could not be sure of this. Ishmael read how Supercity stopped any communication with Tri-mex as soon as the delivery of the twenty chips had been made. That day occurred almost 1000 years before; when Ishmael was still a minor. Ismael looked up from the report and turned to Jonr.
“Well?” the leader asked.
“It’s certainly interesting.”
“I had forgotten about RB’s until you mentioned them. That’s why I looked up this report. Their incidence is increasing; you said so yourself. It makes sense that Project Infinity would deploy these chips now, if it were ever to do so. I think you have one inside you. Do you know how these special chips work?”
“No.”
“I do. Humans experience RBs too, but for us, the effect is only a mild form of anger, believed to be caused by the new personality having the memories of the old one but not the experience. Yes, humans effectively reboot too. This build-up of layer upon layer of personalities is believed to be what makes us ‘conscious;’ hence Tri-mex’s belief that the C-class might become conscious.”
The experimental C-chip contains ten circuits. Remember that the actual personality of the android is held in the P-chip, elsewhere; the C-chip just holds the basic parameters of personality; whether it should be married or single and have children or not.”
Of the ten circuits, one is designated the Alpha circuit and is the current Control circuit. Another circuit is designated the Beta channel and yet another, the Gamma circuit. All the Beta channel does is poll the Alpha circuit every .01 seconds to ask; are you conscious? When it doesn’t receive a response, it knows the Alpha circuit has shorted and it promotes itself to Alpha. The Gamma channel polls the Beta circuit every ten seconds – its polls are never at the same time as the Beta’s – and acts as a backup; RBs actually last for much less than .01 seconds so the chance of both Alpha and Beta being affected is tiny and that of Beta and Gamma, infinitesimally small. This process goes on until the tenth circuit becomes the Gamma circuit, at which point, an alert is sent that the chip needs replacing.”
On a trip to the centre of the Universe, there are expected to be a decreasing number of RB’s so ten circuits should be enough. Four were designed small enough to fit into minors, which will be needed to repopulate Universe B. Would any of that explain anything?”
“Well, yes! I have felt strange since an RB, the other day. I felt irritated at first, but then I felt more awake.”
“Well, we must go back.”
***
On the way back to Scaffold City, Ishmael tried gently to turn the argument about evolution in his favour once more:
“If it wasn’t for our supreme concern for Conservation, clones would have destroyed themselves and you wouldn’t be here, Jonr.”
“How much of human and android history do you know Ishmael?”
“You mean; Citizen.”
“No. I mean android. I am not going to spare you the truth. There is no time left; not for us and not even for the God of this Universe!”
Ishmael stared at Jonr, trying to process the complex signals he had received.
“No, I mean the real history, not some garbage you androids have convinved yourself is the truth.”
Until the Third Milennum, the C-class androids hadn’t really assimilated themselves into our culture enough to claim primacy so I will start from there. During that century, Ischians made Earth uninhabitable for 120 years but gradually life came back. Thankfully, a full range of plant/animal DNA had been stored under a mountain in Norway and in many cases for plants, seeds too, so that it didn’t take long for man to repopulate earth.”
However, the Ischians were always aggressive and when the first Stage Three culture, the Timpoids, made moves to harness the Ischian suns for power, the Ischians chose to retaliate with aggression, bringing about their own demise
.”
Humans chose rather to try and understand the universe than to simply harness its power. Much of our energy was expended in the years 3000-100,000 AD trying to work out the nature of the universe. This they did with the help of robots, later androids, but the price would be Earth itself, mined almost to the core for minerals, and man moved to Mars. Earth became just a hot, hollowed out hulk, with only a few tiny nature reserves maintained out of necessity.”
Eventually, Mars too had to be abandoned at 1.6 billion years due to the Sun’s expansion and both Androids and humans in the Android-Human Alliance moved to Marstoo, terraforming a nearby planet to seem like Earth.”
Meanwhile, man had harnessed communication without speech using electromagnetic implants, later genetically engineered bio-mechanisms, to generate radio signals. The colonies required less of men physically so their hands and feet could shrink to conserve heat loss on the new, cooler planet. Androids did all the work but had always created a big demand for power.”
There had been many wars, notably the Billion Year war, starting in 1B0M090,992 when man had most fully developed his culture and competed for precious resources with the last of the Timpoids, allied with those more aggressive humans left on Marsone, who hadn’t wanted to leave for a cooler star. The resulting war depleted reserves further but saw the end of the Timpoids and effectively Marsone.”
As a result of the demands for power and loss of resources from the great wars, in one of their last acts as controllers of EVOTECH, in 2B1M278,555, the organisation which had replaced governments in ordering our society, men made the androids’ highest goal that of Conservation rather than Exploration, Computation or Production. When the Alliance broke and androids took over, for the first time calling themselves Citizens, they began to model themselves on man in a misguided attempt to mimic life, believing the creation of an artificial copy of life to be the same as preservation.”
In the last great AHA programme in the year 2B2M222,431, androids and man finally understood how they might survive the Big Crunch. For the first time, the idea of a Stage Four culture emerged, one that had essentially bypassed Stage Three in favour of understanding or intellectual development. They built a starship which might survive the Big Crunch.”
One day, I will tell you about the cracking of time travel and how it caused man’s final slide into apathy and servility. But my main point is that we programmed androids to put Conservation first.”
Ishmael thought carefully before answering:
“Well, I agree with all of that, it is all as we have recorded, except that man had to be rescued. That is all I will say!”
“Ishmael, you are stubborn! You don’t know when you are beaten but I like you! I need to grab a few hours sleep. I don’t know how much you want but I hope you will come with me tomorrow. We need you. I suggest you spend some time, probing the President’s office network to see how you came to have the chip.”
“But it would be very dangerous for me to go back to Supercity!”
“What are you going to do here if we all die? You could lead the children and old-timers in one last desperate attack or live out your days here … .” Jonr indicated the vast wasteland inside the cavern with a sweep of his arm. “Or you could find out the truth.”
***
Battle
Ishmael didn’t try to sleep. He had been given the room of a warrior, recently killed at the fan duct, and sat in a chair, trying to work his way into the President’s private network. He had no luck and found himself walking round the room, looking at the dead man’s possessions; holograms of girlfriends, award certificates, a few paintings, and a single locket, hanging on a platinum chain. Without considering his actions, Ishmael began to open the locket but stopped himself.
No, could be the most personal possession of this man. Let his secrets go with him.
But Ishmael found himself teasing the platinum chain through his fingers as he continued to think. It calmed him.
He remember what he had been trying to do and cast his thoughts back to the President. Suddenly, he heard a voice:
“It’s me, Armande. I can’t sleep and my wife is driving me mad. Is there any news?”
“No sir. It seems our … surveillance team has lost communication too. Do you want me to escalate this to Emergency and deploy all agents, as we discussed?”
“No. We wait. I have the preliminary report on how this whole cock-up occurred. Mind you, I find the explanation more disturbing than any conspiracy! I will paraphrase the report. The Medical Bot assigned to replace C199989’s C-chip during an RB had also passed through another RB, close to C199989’s incident, a few minutes before; an event so unlikely as to have never happened before, causing it to malfunction. Medical Bots are always stationed in the Government buildings, a spot which very rarely experiences RBs and all Medical Bots have their chips replaced before going to an incident. Furthermore, by some event of incalculably remote probability, the Medical Bot had been assigned to collect one of the twenty special new chips for Project Infinity when it had been re-routed.”
“I see. Truly bizarre and … unlucky, for us sir!”
“Yes, but not a conspiracy! That, at least, is something. We have to focus on stopping any clone attack. If this Ishmael leads them, it could be very difficult for us. How soon can you deploy the new Type 45s?”
“We are working on it. They are still officially prototypes; three of them. We can have most of glitches ironed-out in the next two hours sir. Another hour to deploy.”
“Good. There is something else. I am going to be on the move during this campaign so this will be my only channel of communication with you. Tighten up security will you. I know I have been too relaxed about it in the past.”
“Good thinking sir.”
“Frank. I know you have always been good at your job. It’s me who let the ball slip. Don’t let me drop it!”
“I understand sir. A good metaphor!”
“I got it out of a book.”
Ishmael had to sit down.
So it’s true. I have had my chip replaced, by accident. And now I have become conscious. But clones seem to have always been conscious! The awful implications of this were too much for Ishmael to assimilate so he focused on something simple:
I have to warn Jonr. They have to attack within three hours.
He strode out of the room and headed to Jonr’s dwelling, thinking while he walked:
What else can I find while I can still access the network? Size of the Supercity Army? Yes, that would be useful.
Ishmael’s memory had stored the network location for the President’s communication device so he used the same I.D. and probed for any database. He found one; Basic Utilities. He quickly discarded this and searched for others; Dinner Guests, Calendar Dates. He settled for Security and queried the database, storing all the data. Locating a reference to SA, he followed it though a mind-boggling number of abstract references until he alighted on a single data instance; 40,000.
Two sentries stopped Ishmael at Jonr’s door.
“He asked not to be disturbed,” one of them protested.
“I have information critical to the success of the Operation!” Ishmael declared, starting to adopt the language of covert activities.
The sentry passed this message on and Jonr emerged, looking bedraggled, minutes later
“What is it Ishmael?”
“40,000? You’re sure?” Jonr exclaimed, after hearing what Ishmael had discovered.
“No. It is probably the correct figure.”
“Well, it sounds feasible and it’s all we have. We have 140,000 which is too few. Many of those the right age are malnourished or have other sicknesses; healthcare is non-existent here. It will have to do. But why the hell didn’t you get more! You have the only way in to their network and all you come up with is the size of their Army! What are these Type 45? Where will they be? Where will Armande be? Where will this Frank be?”
“I am sorry. I am not a
security expert or hacker. In fact, computer sciences are not one of my skills. However, I can answer the last two questions; every communication must be contained within a carrier signal and we can scan these for the ID of the caller until we find the President’s and Frank’s and then track all data on that carrier signal.”
“Sorry. I am tense. It’s not your fault. But while you can still get in, can you find out more? Keep scanning it as long as you can. Perhaps they will let something slip. I have to get the commanders ready. We go in two hours.”
“One would be better,” Mira suggested.
“Yes, she is correct,” Ishmael added.
“We can’t! Not possible!” Jonr protested.
“It’s possible,” Mira told him.
“Right.” He kissed her and called the sentries.
***
Jonr lined up at the front of his own squad of eight men on the scaffold. A few hundred metres in front, reached through the maze of duckboards and biomet sheets, lay the fan duct. To save time, only those first into the tunnel had been gathered. Their lasers looked crude, compared with Ishmael’s and some of them had not had time to paint their fatigue black and white so had instead put on contrasting black or white trousers and shirts.
Ishmael stood next to Jonr and looked at the men’s faces. They grinned and joked but the android felt confused by their expressions. The grins, which indicated humour, hid another emotion, perhaps fear.
Clone, no, human, emotions have always confused me!
He had begun to accept that his personality had been built on a chassis of steel and synthetic compounds; this didn’t seem as bad as he had expected. So now he could allow himself to consciously access his own data banks instead of pretending he ‘remembered.’ His memory banks told him that the correct term for the human expression was a ‘grimace.’
“Right men,” Jonr whispered. “You all have a copy of the map Ishmael drew, so you know where to meet up if you make it that far. The second intersection. You all know the route so stick to it. They have 40,000, we have 140,000, but they have better equipment than us and communications! Two critical things have to happen if we are to get enough of our people in to win; taking out those two guns and fortifying the approach. If any of you drop your sheet, you will have to go back for a second. Is that understood?”