Proxima (33 page)

‘And what of the units’ AI modules?’ the ColU asked.

‘Well, we cut them out and dumped them,’ Klein said. ‘When they wouldn’t do what we wanted.’

‘We did the same,’ Dorothy admitted. ‘Didn’t you ever think of that?’

‘Evidently not,’ said Mardina evenly.

‘You dumped them,’ the ColU said. ‘Fully sentient, rendered as if limbless and sightless, dumped them in the sand and abandoned them. Unable even to die—’

Mardina said, ‘I think there have been greater cruelties committed on this planet than that, ColU.’

The ColU rolled away. ‘I will inspect that machine. And I will make it a personal goal,’ it said, receding, ‘to recover all my lost and wounded brothers. Some day, somehow . .
.’

Klein ignored it. He stared at Yuri, curiously. ‘Just the two of you, right? We all got dropped in the middle of nowhere. How did you get out?’

‘Tell us how
you
got out.’

Liu answered for him. ‘It was kind of brutal,’ he admitted. ‘Turns out we were left even further from any other water sources than most of the shuttle groups we’ve heard
about.’

‘I wonder why,’ Mardina said, staring up at Klein.

‘China boy’s too squeamish to tell you how it was,’ Klein said. ‘We didn’t have enough water from the start. Then the lake we were stuck by started drying out. Even
the little reedy natives cleared off. Some astronaut screwed up, we should never have been dropped there. So we walked out. And you know how we survived?’ He licked his lips, staring back at
her. ‘You want to know what your precious ISF astronauts, your marvellous Major McGregor, made us do? We drank the blood of those who weren’t going to make it. That’s how we
survived. Quite a story, huh? A story that will be told as long as there are people on Kleinworld. And don’t pretend you’re somehow above all that, China boy. You stained your mouth
too.’

Liu looked away.

Mardina said, ‘
Kleinworld
? You’ve got to be kidding.’

Delga grinned. ‘We just call it the Bowl. Because that’s how it feels, doesn’t it? When you look up at that big sun in the sky, never moving. Like you’re stuck at the
bottom of a great big bowl, with slippery sides that you can never climb out of.’

‘We call it Per Ardua,’ Yuri said, and he explained why.

Dorothy Wynn nodded. ‘I rather like that.’

‘ “I rather like that”,’ Klein snapped mockingly. ‘Oh, do you? Well, I fucking don’t. Typical smartass stuff from you astronauts – right, Lieutenant
Jones? Let me tell you something. You’re a long way from the officers’ lounge now. You’re in my world, whether you call it that or not. I’m the power here. Look around. And
I’ll tell you what you’re going to do before—’

With a single smooth movement Mardina pulled a crossbow out of Beth’s bag, raised it, and shot him in the eye. He fell back on his big chair, limbs splayed, mouth open, and was still.

For a moment there was silence, save for the gurgling of Klein’s gut as it shut down. Nobody moved. Then Mardina held up the crossbow, loaded it again, and showed it to Klein’s
‘officers’.

Delga was the first to react. She laughed. ‘Wow. How did you—’

‘Practice,’ Yuri said grimly.

‘Practice, yes,’ Mardina said. ‘I’ve had a lot of time for that the last ten years. But I haven’t got time for an asshole like Klein. And I’ve got a daughter
to protect. So, that’s that dealt with. Anybody got any objections? No? Good. Let’s get out of here; we’ve got a lot to talk about. By the way—’ she looked
contemptuously at Liu’s arms, the ribbons, ‘—you won’t be needing those any more.’

Flanked by Dorothy and Delga, she walked out of the camp, heading upstream.

Yuri and Liu fell in behind her. Yuri was ready for trouble, but Klein’s people seemed stunned. None of them had even gone to the body yet.

‘You’ve got a tiger by the tail there, my friend,’ Liu murmured to Yuri.

‘Tell me about it.’

As they walked back to Delga’s camp, a few flakes of snow started falling from the sky. By the time they got back Beth and the other children were dancing and shouting, excited by the
thickening fall.

T
he walls, the carpet melted back, to reveal a washed-out blue sky, well-watered grass underfoot. Only their three chairs remained, and Stef
wondered how much else of Earthshine’s fancy chamber had been a simulation.

Earthshine remained seated, while Stef and Penny stood and looked around. They were in a graveyard, set in the grounds of a small country church, evidently very old. The graves in their rows
were topped by weathered stones, and some by more modern virtual memorials, nodding flowers or dancing figures or scraps of wedding albums or baby photos, sustained by the energies of the generous
sunlight.

‘We’re not far from Paris,’ Earthshine said. ‘I mean, that’s where the source of this projection is. Once you would have seen the city smog as a smear in the sky,
off to the north. Long gone now. The simulation is based on a live feed, incidentally.’

‘I recognise this place,’ Penny said. ‘We came here when Dad was buried.’

‘I came here alone,’ Stef said.

‘Whatever. He wanted to be buried beside Mom.’

Earthshine said, ‘Who in turn was buried beside her own mother. Your grandmother was a Parisian, and so here we are . . . I am drawn to graveyards, you know. Fascinating, poignant places.
The evidence of human mortality, which I do not share—’

‘Even though you were once human,’ Penny said.

That surprised Stef. ‘What are you talking about?’

Penny smiled ruefully. ‘Since we got this summons, while you have been researching me, I’ve been researching our host . . .’

It was another outcome of the Heroic Generation age, she said. ‘Earthshine is actually the youngest of the Core AIs. Already his brothers were strong. They were useful for supporting the
big post-Jolt projects: global in scope, very long term. But there was concern that the AIs, being non-human after all and running on an entirely different substrate, would not share
humanity’s concern for its own well-being, and would pursue different agendas. So a new approach to emulating human-level AI was tried out. Volunteers were sought – or rather, the
hyper-rich of the Heroic Generation
competed
for places—’

‘I was a Green Brain experiment,’ Earthshine said. ‘Major Kalinski, I was reverse-engineered as an AI. My name is – was – Robert Braemann. I grew up in North
Britain, as it is known now. They opened up my head and modelled the hundred billion neurones, the quadrillion synapses, in a vast software suite that was itself state-of-the-art. It was done by
nanoprobes crawling through my skull, multiplying, reporting . . . I was brought back to consciousness repeatedly, to monitor the process. I,
I
, felt nothing.’

Stef frowned. ‘They modelled every organic bit of you, or the essence of you. And you still claim to be
you
– whoever you were?’

Penny smiled. ‘Sis, you’ve put your finger on the paradox that troubles most of us, when you look at a Green Brain.’

‘Don’t call me “sis”.’

‘I considered calling myself Theseus. I doubt you’ve had time to read any Plutarch along with your quantum theory, Major. Theseus’s Paradox is this: Theseus’s ship had
each of its component parts, the wood and the nails, replaced one by one, until the whole fabric was new. Is it the same ship? It is an old quandary.’

Stef thought it over. ‘If you define the ship by its function, it’s still the same ship. Or if you consider it as an object with an extension in time as well as
space—’

‘Yes. Quite so. There are different cultural responses to the paradox, interestingly. The Japanese, for example, in their unstable country, used to build their temples of wood, that could
be regularly and readily rebuilt – yet the temple stays the same.’ He smiled. ‘I had Japanese engineers manage my transition. While I lay there with my head opened up like a
bucket of ice cream, I did not want my doctors to be paralysed by epistemological doubt.’

‘Yes,’ Penny said. ‘But in fact they didn’t just pour out one brain to make you, did they, Earthshine? Stef, he had
nine
donors. Nine parents. Think of that! So
much for the Green Brain effort; all it gave us was a better interface to their inhumanity. Earthshine and his buddies plan for the long term, which is a good thing. But their vision of the long
term is one that benefits
them
, ultimately, snug in their bunkers—’

‘I did not bring you here to argue over the justification for my own existence,’ Earthshine said. ‘I can only assure you that whatever you think of me, on some level I remain
human enough to sympathise with how you must feel at a moment like this.’ He pointed. ‘Your father’s grave is just over there.’

They found it easily, only a few years old, a modest memorial beside the decades-old grave of their mother.

Penny said, ‘Weird for both of us, right? We supported each other, that day.’

‘No,’ Stef said. She turned away from her sister.

Earthshine stood now – the three chairs, empty, winked out of existence behind him – and he walked across to join them.

Stef said, ‘Earthshine, tell me what we’re supposed to see here.’

‘No,’ Penny snapped. ‘First, tell us what it is you want of us.’

‘I want you to be my allies,’ Earthshine said simply.

‘Because?’

‘Because he’s afraid,’ Stef said. ‘He told us that. But afraid of what?’

‘Of all this.’ He waved a hand. ‘As you remarked, we AIs differ from you humans – even I, more like you than my siblings – in that we think on long timescales.
That
is a distinction. And on the longest of timescales, what is there
not
to fear? We are motes, our very worlds are motes, floating in a universe that was born of unimaginable
violence. Our little corner of the universe is tranquil enough now, relatively. But it was not always this way, and why should it remain so? What if our world, the universe itself, is destined to
die in violence too, die of ice or fire? That would at least have a certain symmetry to the telling, wouldn’t it?

‘And what if we bring that violence down on ourselves? War is the wolf that has stalked mankind since before our ancestors left the trees. Though it’s largely gone unnoticed, my Core
brothers and I have been working hard, mainly by influencing human agencies like the UN and the governing councils of the Chinese Greater Economic Framework, to bind up the wolf of war with
treaties, with words. And we’ve largely succeeded, so far. Well, the fact that we stand here in the simulated sunshine having this conversation is proof of that. But now we are an
interplanetary civilisation. That wolf, if it got loose now, if it got a chance, could smash whole worlds – it could have done that even before we stumbled across these kernels of yours . .
.

‘But the kernels exist, and now we have a new factor to deal with – a new randomness. This strange discovery at the heart of the solar system, the kernels, this Hatch that leads
nowhere – nowhere but to
this
, a raggedly changed reality. What power implanted the kernels and created the Hatch? What power is now meddling with our history? Who is it? What does
it want? How can we deal with it? The very existence of these alien toys is destabilising – surely you can see that? And the more we discover of their power, the more destabilising they
become.’

Stef said, ‘You want us to work with you.’

‘I need allies,’ Earthshine said. ‘We do, the three of us in the Core. Human allies. You have kept kernel physics from us; perhaps that is wise. Our priority now is to prevent
these new discoveries sparking a devastating war. And if it turns out that the Hatch-makers really do have the power to meddle with our history . . .’

Penny asked, a little wildly, ‘And you brought us here because you have proof of that?’

He pointed. ‘Look at your mother’s headstone. Can you read French? Let me translate.
Here lies Juliette Pontoin, born
– well, you know the dates –
accomplished chemist, wife to George Kalinski, beloved mother of Stephanie Penelope Kalinski
. . .’

Mother of Stephanie Penelope Kalinski. Not of Stephanie Karen and Penelope Dianne. One name only. One true name.

Penny was staring at the stone. She looked devastated. She had lost a piece of her own past, and Stef knew how that felt.

Stef turned to Earthshine. ‘Another ragged edge.’

‘Yes. Now you see – we must work together. Over the years to come. We must keep in touch. Study this, in the background of our other projects.’

‘Yes,’ Stef said automatically.

Penny seemed too stunned to respond.

‘And when we discover who is responsible for this . . .’ Earthshine stepped forward, staring at the stone. ‘I am everywhere. And I am starting to hear your footsteps, you
Hatch-makers. I can hear the grass grow. And I can hear you.’

2190

I
t was Beth and the other scouting teenagers who brought back the first news of the upstream community.

Yuri, Mardina, Delga and Liu Tao were sitting around the fire at the latest rest stop. They were huddled in layers of clothing, heavy stem-cloth overcoats over the remains of ISF-issue
coveralls. Most, notably Mardina, had blankets heaped on their laps. Even Delga, who never put warmth before pride, pulled a blanket over her too. After ten years of the star winter – ten
years after he and Mardina had joined this group he still thought of as ‘the mothers’, and with a dribble of other groups joining in the years since – they had all grown so
old
, Yuri suddenly thought, looking at the four of them huddled together like this, the nearest thing this mobile community had to a governing council, like four half-asleep relics in a
post-apocalyptic old folks’ home.