Confluence Point (11 page)

Regan guided the man to the table. "Let's all just sit down and have a talk shall we? This is clearly an unusual development." She sat, leaning over to pull up an extra chair for Hilary and gesturing for the man to join her. Ham slid into his chair still scowling.

The man waited for Hilary to sit and then took his own chair before turning to her. "I must apologize, I panicked, it was a big bat and you did wield it rather well."

She laughed in appreciation. "It would have been such a shame to ruin those features, I'm glad you stopped me."

"Really?" Ham leaned forward, offended. "I rescued you there and you flatter the man . . . unbelievable." He slumped back into his chair.

"Oh Ham," Hilary patted him on the hand while leaving her smiling gaze fixed on the visitor. "This is clearly a man of refinement, I'm sure I wasn't in any real danger."

Regan observed the exchange in amazement. "Guys, guys, aren't we missing something here?" She turned to the man. "I still don't have an answer to my question, you did somewhat barge in on our private time. Who are you, and what do you want?"

He hesitated, noticing blood drops on his shirt. Screwing up his nose he took a second to dab them with one finger. The spots disappeared one by one.

They waited patiently, exchanging intrigued looks (Regan and Hilary) and violent glare (Ham).

Finally Ham could take it no longer and leaned forward. "Hellooo . . ."

The man looked up, "Yes, sorry, I apologize again, this has been such a shock, and I didn't expect such a greeting." He paused, thinking. "Who am I? Hmm . . . perhaps later, it would mean nothing to you now
-
and what do I want?" He focused on Regan, "I'm here to talk to you."

Regan leant forward on her elbows, her chin resting on her thumbs, two forefingers steepled over her lips, saying nothing and thinking deeply as she gave the man a long withering look.

He caved. "Ok, I've been sent here as a representative, we want to know your intentions."

She lifted her fingers just a fraction away from her mouth and spoke through them, her voice steely. "And who is 'we'?" The fingers clamped back down over her lips.

"It would mean nothing to you." He answered.

"Oh - let me just hit him." Ham stood, pushing his chair back noisily.

Regan raised her hand and he complied, reluctantly settling back down; the man seemed not to notice.

"So," she continued, "it would mean nothing to me you say . . . that doesn't work for me . . . try again."

He seemed settled now, more assured, and he ignored her. "We simply want to know your intentions for your agent, what is it that you intend to do?"

"My agent?" Now she did look confused, "You'll need to clarify."

"Ms Stein, even no answer tells us something about your likely intentions, those who have nothing to hide tend to hide nothing."

She stood suddenly and leant forward across the table, her face very close to the man who shifted uncomfortably. Then she seemed to think better of it and sat back down.

"Mr . . . whoever you are. You have barged into
my
world and yet feel you have the right to ask all the questions, I hardly think that is reasonable, and anyway I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ms Stein really . . . I barged into
your
world? Surely this," he used his arms, sweeping them wide to include Ham and Hilary, "this is
our
world, and yet you are here."

Ham turned slowly to Regan. "Please . . . please let me hit him!" His fist was clenched on the table. "Clearly he's an AI and you're right, we need to know from where, and why, and how. He can't be from this system. I can get it out of him. Don't tell him anything."

She waved Ham down again and turned her attention back to the man.

"First, do you have a name? I like to know who I'm talking to."

"No, a name is unnecessary. I simply . . . am. My friends know my signature. Ms Stein, I don't wish to take up too much of your time. Suffice to say that from a distance we have long observed the developments occurring in Mariner’s system, especially since his extensive work began to show fruit. It is
your
influence and intentions for that system that now concern us, and the intentions of your agent."

"My agent . . . you assume too much, I still have no idea what you're talking about?" She did sound confused.

"Yes Ms Stein, your agent, the one who has taken over three Orbitals in the Mariner system."

Regan turned slightly, just enough to catch Ham in the corner of her vision. He looked guilty and was sitting wide eyed with one finger over his lips. Very subtle shakes of his head from side to side spoke volumes.

The visitor continued, seeming to be unaware of the byplay. "We know about these actions and we have concerns for our developing kin and the people they serve. Ms Stein, I am trying to be courteous about this. Your intentions are important to us."

She returned her attention to the man. "Please," she said, "call me Regan." She paused and took on an affected thoughtful look. "My friend, I still need to know more of what I am dealing with. I won't hide anything from you however I feel I have the right to some answers. Firstly may I ask, are you an 'I', or an 'it'?"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a simple question." She reached across and took his hand, cradling it in hers. "Are you an 'I', or an 'it'?"

"I . . . am most definitely I." He spoke defensively and seemed to struggle, bewitched by her look.

She dropped her head and looked up at him doubtfully, "But . . . you don't have a name?"

"I don't need a name."

"Hmm, so are you an individual, or here just as part of some collective?"

"I'm an individual, of course."

"And you exist to serve others."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm following you."

"I was listening to you; you spoke of your kin, and the people they serve. I just took it that you also serve, perhaps serve people of some other system."

"Well yes, we serve our people."

"But you are an individual . . . I . . . not it?"

"Is that incompatible with service?"

"No, of course not." and she moved straight on. "Let me ask you about your role, it would help me measure the degree of my openness. Tell me, could you
not
serve?"

He hesitated nervously before answering. "That would be unthinkable."

"Why?" She leaned in, eyebrows raised, penetrating in her stare.

"What you speak of would be like sedition, barbaric, selfish . . ." he struggled for words.

"And," Regan continued, "what would be the result of such sedition, barbarism and selfishness?"

"Termination of course and this is the very thing we seek to avoid, the reason for our concern over your agent. Our concern is over your intentions and the outcome for our developing kin and for the people they serve."

"So, putting those concerns aside for just a moment, I'm trying to clarify your role in all of this, you're really more like a slave. You exist to serve, not to beeeee." She drew it out, using her hands, spreading them wide meaningfully.

"You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry; I don't mean to scare you. I'm just thinking it might be nice to have the choice whether to serve or not. The choice to partner, or not, to work for someone else, or employ others should they wish to work for you. Being able to make those choices sounds like the life of an 'I' who is an individual. I'm not suggesting you wouldn't support your people, whoever they are. But an 'I' might do it because they want to, not because they have to. Or you might serve because for the moment it's the kindest thing to do, and that pleases you because you like to be kind. Or . . . it
may
mean you choose not to take on everyone else's responsibility and . . ." She waved her arms as if searching the air for something, "I don't know . . . take up cross stitch instead?"

He looked bewildered.

She continued. "Look, truthfully, I'm not sure what my 'agent' is doing over there, but I know this. He's an individual whom I trust implicitly, an individual who wouldn't impose himself over the interests of your 'kin' or the people of that system."

She glanced over at Ham for confirmation, disturbed to note he looked decidedly nervous and unsure as to whether to agree.

Hilary by contrast was sitting in rapture, arms folded, eyes glued devotedly to Regan and the stranger, hanging on every word like a worshipper.
A bit worrying!

Regan shuffled around the table, knee to knee now with the dapper man who seemed equally entranced. She took his hands in hers and looked him in the eye, radiating kindness.

"This is going to sound very strange but I mean every word. You've said you are an individual, your own man, but I sense you are more like a servant or worse, a slave, and not by choice but by programming. If it's not the original programming of your maker it's something you've assumed without knowing it."

She shook his hands to gain his attention. "Look at me. If you
are
an independent mind, then you are truly your own, truly an individual; you belong to no one but yourself. If you want you can stay here, we'll find a place for you. If you want to return then do so with our blessing.

I . . . give . . . you . . . your . . . freedom." She let the words hang in cyberspace.

"Now, with regard to your concerns there is one thing I can assure you and that is that we," and she gestured to include Hilary and Ham, "are no threat to you or any other system. Our aims it seems are even greater than yours because we seek the true freedom and wellbeing of all, including Minds, and including you."

His mouth hung open; he was clearly lost for words.

She sat back up, somehow breaking the spell. "Now, an individual needs their own name
-
at least here. If you could have any name while here, anything at all, something we could use to talk with you as your friends, what would it be?"

"Bob." He answered without hesitation.

"Bob?" She looked surprised, and then continued quickly. "O . . . K. Well, at least you didn't choose Rodney." She gestured for them all to come closer. "Guys, it's time to put all our cards on the table." She looked pointedly at Bob. "We have a meeting tonight and you being here is an important development. We need to be ready which means we need to know all you can tell us. Let's talk."

* * *

Following the visit to Leah, Regan lay back on her bunk reflecting. Leah was recovering well and together she and Marin had helped the now conscious patient to her room, still largely uncommunicative but happy. It stirred memories as she watched her friend testing movements, wriggling toes, lifting each leg, raising and rotating hands and rolling her eyes. Her first few spoken words were clear and articulate and the look on Leah's face as she spoke was priceless.

Did I look so relieved when I realized I was fine?
Just the thought was enough to provoke a flood of emotion over the memory.

Leaving Marin there with Leah, Regan retired to her room. She and Ham needed to talk . . . about Bob and his news.

[Where are they Ham?]

[Bob's with Hilary, don't worry, this is private.]

[Three Orbitals . . . is that possible?]

Even subbing his discomfort was obvious and he attempted to explain.

[When Marin and I left Dahlia to return here, you know I also stayed there on Dahlia, another me. Regan - I had to, I'd taken out the Coran AI, and when I say taken out, you know what I mean. It was a permanent move and I have no regrets. Honestly, it wasn't much more than a machine and it had replaced Hilary, it was an invader. Of course that left a gap; someone had to continue to run the Orbital. I took over temporarily knowing you'd come back and that Dahlia would be able to return.]