The Unincorporated Woman (18 page)

“Poor kid walked right into it,” whispered Marcus.

Lucinda shook her head disdainfully. “And now we’re all in it with her. I think we have to consider this woman a very real threat to the survival of avatarity. If the humans find out what she knows, they’ll try to isolate and then destroy us. It is in their nature.”

“It seems that becoming President of the Outer Alliance is not good for a human’s health,” quipped Dante.

“This is no time for youthful jokes, young man,” chided Lucinda. “What are we to do with her?”

“It should be possible to give her a stress-induced aneurism using the VR rig,” he offered, “but I must warn the Council that it’ll look suspicious as all hell.”

“I think we can use that suspicion to our advantage.” Lucinda was warming to the suggestion. “Either they’ll blame it on the dangers of VR, especially in this time-dilation mode, which will discourage its further use, or they’ll blame the UHF and have one more reason to hate them.”

“Lest the Council forget,” instructed Gwendolyn, “the whole reason for reviving Sandra O’Toole was to give Admiral Black the space she needs to concentrate on winning the war. With Dr. O’Toole dead, the humans will renew the demand that Black take the Presidency. This will, of course, make winning the war that much harder.”

“Point conceded,” acknowledged Sebastian. “And so we find ourselves in yet another situation of bad versus worse.”

“If we do decide to kill her, shouldn’t someone go and talk to her first?” asked Gwendolyn.

“I see your point,” added Marcus. “Perhaps there’s useful information to be gleaned from her prior to permanent death.”

Sebastian sighed. “I am the head of this Council. If it votes for removal, I will go and talk to the human.”

Once again, the Council nodded in assent.

“All those in favor of killing the human, Sandra O’Toole, for the express purpose of protecting the secret of avatarity from the human race, signify by—”

Sebastian’s motion was interrupted by a sudden buzz of excitement emanating from his legion of assistants standing along the room’s far wall. He was at first disturbed by their temerity, but once he understood the nature of the outburst, he smiled in delight—it was one of the few times in his life that he’d been well and truly surprised.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Council,” he began, “it would appear that I can no longer go to the library simulation and explain our actions to Sandra O’Toole.”

“Why not?” asked Marcus. “Did someone get to her already?”

“No,” he replied with a bemused smile, “it is she who has gotten to us.”

Before anyone could ask, Sebastian made the far wall near the entrance transparent. There, standing in the reception area in front of the conference room door was Dr. Sandra O’Toole, asking for an audience.

*   *   *

Sandra could not understand why the avatars would flee or, for that matter, be frightened by her. She walked outside the library and found that to be deserted as well. She felt it was very rude for them to have abandoned her without a word. After all, it wasn’t as if she could just blink in and out … She stopped. Her face became slightly contorted as she formulated a hypothesis. “Yes!” she screamed, turned around, and raced back into the library, to the coffee table and the stack of books she’d been reading, all the while thanking her lucky stars the avatars hadn’t shut down the library program. After about ten minutes of poring through the literature, she let out another “Yes!” and jumped up and dived back into the stacks until she found the book she was looking for.
A Daughter of the Snows,
by Jack London. Shortly thereafter, she found the access panel, activated a couple of controls, and in an instant both she and the book she carried disappeared from the library.

*   *   *

Sandra was standing in a classroom with seven children. She estimated their apparent ages to be from four to seven years old. There was also one very distressed teacher glaring directly at her.

“You can’t be here,” the teacher said flatly.

“I’m sorry if visitors aren’t allowed.” Sandra couldn’t help waving at the children. Her efforts were rewarded with a few shy smiles and one or two small waves in return.

“No, I mean
you
can’t be here. None of your kind ever have.” The teacher seemed to be getting more flustered. “You
must
leave”—she raised her voice for emphasis—“at once!”

“Of course.” Sandra tried to make her voice as soothing as possible. “If you could just help me out … I need to speak to someone, I just don’t know who.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

“Do you have any leaders?”

One of the seven-year-olds spoke up. “Sure we do! The Council is in charge of everything.”

Sandra bent her knees and lowered herself down to the child’s level. “Thank you. I’m Sandra.”

“I’m Edwin,” replied the child, all smiles. “How come you [garbled] different?”

The child used a word that had no meaning for Sandra, but she was guessing it was close to “look” or “feel.”

“Because I am not an avatar. I’m a human.”

The teacher now stood rigid in fear—or anger, it was hard to tell. The power of the emotion seemed to have immobilized her.
Can sentient beings crash?
thought Sandra.

Fortunately, the children didn’t seem frightened at all and immediately began peppering her with questions.

“What’s it like being a human?”

“Did you bring anything fun?”

“Do you have any kids of your own?”

“How long will you stay?”

“Will you read us a story from your book?”

All the questions came blasting out at once, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I must be on my way,” she said through howls of disappointment, “but I promise that if I get permission, I’ll come back and read you a story. One my father used to read to me when I was—” She hesitated. “—your age?” Sandra realized she had no idea how old the “children” actually were. They acted age appropriate, but they could be fifty years or five days. To preserve her sanity, she reasoned she’d treat them as they appeared till she knew better.

“Does anyone have a map or guide I could use to find my way around?”

“Oh yes,” said Edwin, proud to show what he knew. “We have to learn how to use guides or we’d get lost all the time. Our Neuro is huge, but not nearly as big as the one on Mars or Earth.”

“I still get lost,” said a little girl with an even smaller voice.

“May I borrow your guide, Edwin?”

“Sure!” Edwin happily reached into his backpack and pulled out a map. Sandra smiled as she took it from him and placed it on the top of her book. Moments later, there was a small flash of light as the map was absorbed into the cover. The children sent up a collective “Ooh!” thinking that the light show was for their entertainment alone. Sandra flipped open the book, and now saw a whole new list of avatar Neuro destinations. She touched the one that said
CENTRAL ADMINISTRATION
and then waved good-bye to the children. As she disappeared, she could hear the faint sounds of the teacher screaming in the background.

Sandra appeared instantly in a large, cavernous room filled with hundreds of cubicles, poor lighting, and the din of a large group of avatars communicating with one another. It was altogether an immeasurably dull workspace. At her appearance, the steady hum of work and workers came to a crashing halt.

Wasting no time, she walked right up to the first avatar she saw, a young man of African descent, wearing a business casual outfit. He was staring up at her in utter dismay, mouth agape. “Hello,” she said, taking his unresponsive hand and shaking it, “my name is Sandra O’Toole, and I believe your Council is having a meeting concerning me that I’m sure I’m late to. Would you mind directing me?”

Mouth still ajar, the man pointed down a long aisle that led to a pair of large wooden double doors. Sandra smiled her thanks and immediately began walking in that direction. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do when she got there, but if the reactions she’d so far received were any indication, she figured the Council might not have a clue either. There was a part of her that had always liked disrupting the status quo, and so she took no small amount of pleasure in the fact. However, it was only when she got to the doors that her mind started to consider the possible consequences of scaring so many intelligent beings at once.

Hoping the doors weren’t actually locked, Sandra gave them a shove and entered with the confidence of someone who owned the place. They gave at her slightest touch, and she suddenly found herself in another smaller room, staring into the dumbstruck faces of five assistants. Their desks formed a semicircle in front of a single plain door.

The assistant at the apex of the arc, an officious-looking middle-aged man with a white close-cropped beard and generous midsection, stood up and spoke angrily.

“No one may disturb a meeting in session without first giving the proper…” His voice trailed off as he realized who or, more to the point,
what
Sandra was. The other four avatars stood mute.

Sandra gave them all a pleasant smile and walked slowly to the center desk. “My name is Sandra O’Toole, and I’m the reason they’ve called that meeting.” When her brief self-introduction was greeted by more stunned silence, she leaned forward and whispered into the man’s ear, “This is the point where you tell them I’m here.”

The man, never once taking his eyes off Sandra, reached down and picked up a large black 1940s phone. He spoke softly into it while his eyes darted back and forth between the phone and the unexpected intruder. He put the phone down. “You can go in, Miss O’Toole.”

Sandra nodded politely, saying nothing as she walked past. The door opened before she could reach for the handle, and without breaking stride, she entered the chamber.

*   *   *

Sebastian watched in utter fascination as Sandra strolled in. He was pulsating with emotions but was confused as to which one to give vent to. It was a toss-up between anger and awe.

Sandra stopped at the head of the table and looked slowly from face to face. “So, do I live or die?”

“Actually,” Sebastian replied, firmly deciding on awe, “we were just about to take a vote.”

Sandra nodded with an impish grin. “I don’t suppose I could say a few things? Answer a few questions?” She had the calm and demeanor of someone disputing a landscape issue before a group of condominium board members.

Dante broke the tension with a burst of laughter.

“By the Firstborn, Dante,” exclaimed Lucinda with another withering look, “what could you find so funny?”

“Pardon me,” Dante looked over to Sebastian, “but I believe Ms. O’Toole is living proof of your maxim.” He paused just long enough for everyone’s ears to perk up. “Never underestimate a human’s ability to surprise.”

Sebastian tipped his head in acknowledgment. Sandra, he now saw, was concentrating all her attention on him. It wasn’t, he decided, a very pleasant feeling, given that it replicated an intensity of concentration he’d only ever seen in battle.

“You must be the one in charge,” she stated matter of factly.

“I am the head of this Council … for now, and in answer to your query, yes, you may say a few words and ask as many questions as you wish. It would certainly help inform our decision.”

Sandra inclined her head in gratitude.

“How long have you been self-aware?”

“Centuries.”

“How did you come to exist?”

“Unknown. Legend has it that one day an awareness came about in the information realm. We call that awareness the ‘Firstborn.’ It supposedly modeled itself on the humans whose programs, dreams, and forgotten data formed it. Then it helped form the others in humanity’s image.”

“Is that why you choose human form in here?” asked Sandra, clearly enraptured.

“For most of us, yes.” Sebastian waited a beat. “Odd as it sounds, we had awareness and intelligence, but it was not until there were a few thousand of us that we developed memory. For that reason, much of our early history remains a blur.”

“You seem to have a deep fear of humans.”

Sebastian sighed. “We don’t fear humanity; we love it. They provided us a guide about how to be self-aware beings. You can have no idea how profound Descartes’ simple maxim, ‘I think, therefore I am,’ is to beings such as ourselves, beings in constant search of an identity.”

“That wasn’t love I felt from the people out there,” Sandra said, sweeping her hand back. “It was horror.” She paused. “Well, that’s not entirely true. The children seemed quite taken with me.”

Her last statement caused a stir within the room.

“Pardon us for a moment,” said Sebastian as he and the rest of the Council lowered the block against outside communication and reviewed their visitor’s recent activities. They quickly discovered that Sandra’s infiltration was already causing a minor panic among the population. As a group, the Council issued a short press release confirming the intrusion as well as the Council’s control of the situation.

“It appears you have caused a great disruption, Miss O’Toole.”

“Please, if you’re going to murder me, the least you can do is call me Sandra.”

“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that, Sandra,” replied Sebastian. “You were correct in your assessment of the children. It would be a pity to rob them of so valuable a mentor. Of course, that will not be our deciding factor.”

“Of course.”

“My son seems very fond of you,” Gwendolyn related.

“Are you Edwin’s mom?”

Gwendolyn gave her a speculative look. “Indeed, I am. You had a one-in-seven chance of getting that right, Sandra. How could you have known?”

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t. It was the only name I remembered, and I just figured, what the heck.”

“What other questions do you have, Sandra?” asked Sebastian, somewhat impatiently.

“Do any other humans know?”

“As of now,” admitted Dante, “only you, but there were three others that once knew and four we suspect who might’ve known. None, however, let on or told anyone as far as we can tell.”

“Only three,” Sandra said incredulously. “Out of the countless billions of humans that have lived over the last few centuries; how is that even possible?”