The Lion and the Lizard

by Brindle, Nathan C.

  What issue is so great, it would make them fight for ten thousand years to resolve it?

  DO NOT LAUGH BREAK ISSUE IS WHETHER OR NOT WATER ICE SHOULD BE COMBINED WITH SINGLE-MALT WHISKY WHEN THE LATTER IS CONSUMED BREAK

  Ariela's eyes bugged out. "What?" she shrieked.

  Wolff and von Barronov turned instantly to face her. "What's wrong?" asked Wolff, concerned.

  "They fight wars over whether or not to put ice in Scotch!" wailed Ariela.

  The two men looked at each other. "I thought she knew that," murmured von Barronov.

  "So did I," replied Wolff. "Honey, didn't you know that already? Single-malt whisky is a sacrament in their religion, or the equivalent thereof."

  "Lord only knows what they use for the Host," muttered von Barronov.

  Wolff thought, but did not say, "Potato chips?", and glared at his friend.

  Ariela groaned. "I knew you'd said they fought over it, but I didn't know you meant full-scale wars between national or religious polities. Or both, I guess. I figured you meant, like, duels or something. The Simulation says they've been fighting what amounts to a ten-thousand year war over it, with short breathing pauses from time to time, and the current armistice has been in place for five hundred years."

  "You're talking to the Simulation?" asked Wolff, surprised.

  "Yeah, I was thinking about how to go about talking to them, wondered what their actual diplomatic protocols were, and murmured something to the effect of needing a Total Moron's Guide, when it started printing stuff in one of my holotab windows."

  "Can you drop that window on our screens?"

  "Sure." Ariela tapped at a few virtual buttons. "You should have them now."

  The two men studied the text exchange. "Wow," said Wolff, "I don't think Bob even began to let on to this level of awesomesauce."

  "Holy shit," agreed von Barronov. "We had no idea it was that bad."

  The Simulation used the airlock intercom speakers again, since they were all part of the conversation:

  "Predict current armistice will last another century plus minus eight point three six years followed by return to arms break Last armistice came when both sides first employed nuclear weapons break Prefer this cycle to end before two sides annihilate one another break Possible Doctor Ariela Rivers Wolff can bring two sides to mutual agreement and cease permanently wasteful civil war break."

  "But first, we have to negotiate with the nation in charge, which is the no-ice regime if I recall what Bob said correctly," replied Wolff.

  "Yes break."

  "Margin of error of 8.36 years either way is fairly high," interjected von Barronov, "suggesting it is likely even higher than that."

  "Yes break Depending on outcome of your negotiation end could come within twenty-five years break."

  Ariela frowned. "That means by simply appearing in their space, we may have destabilized their entire world."

  "Yes break Unfortunate for them break But have backups break."

  "They're not just an experiment!" shouted Ariela, angrily. "You can't treat them like they're lab rats, shrug when they destroy themselves, and restore them from backup at some earlier point!"

  "Why not break."

  "It's immoral and unethical!"

  Silence reigned for a moment. Then:

  "Null program break No such limitation in Originator code break Originator code merely prohibits affirmative harm by this logic to simulant sentients break This logic is merely a facilitator of experimentation by realspace sentients presumably imbued with moral/ethical Code break This logic will however refuse to run code which violates Originator limitations and intentions break."

  "Ari," interjected Wolff, "it doesn't understand appeals to ethics, or morality. It's not fully-sentient and has only the limits programmed in by its builders."

  Ariela looked nonplussed. "So, effectively, I'm barking up the wrong logic tree?"

  "Ouch." Wolff winced. "But, yeah."

  "Simulations are experiments by definition break," the Simulation added, helpfully.

  "Don't remind me," replied Ariela, exasperated.

  "Null program break This logic is designed to remind when necessary break."

  "Arrgh!" Ariela gave up.

  "Ari," said von Barronov, slowly, "I think what it means is, it is designed to help the trunk line designers – the Programmers – remember they're not gods, that everything they do is an experiment, or prototype, if you will, that's created in pursuit of the original goal of the Originators. They're going to have failures – a lot of them, probably, and the vast majority won't happen as soon as the line is booted up. Minor failures in coding will likely take billions of simulated years to cause the overall failure of a line." He considered for a moment, then added, "Someone, or something, has to be around when a species fails and it traces back to a mistake the Programmer made. I would imagine the Programmers tend to get pretty wrought up in their creations. That could be devastating to their psyches, particularly when they are young and just getting started making their own designs."

  "Correct break," said the Simulation.

  "And as simulants," chimed in Wolff, "we have a somewhat different view of the issue, when we find out we are simulants."

  "Also correct break."

  "Yeah well," said Ariela, determined to salvage something, "how often does that happen?"

  "One in one billion two hundred fifty-six thousand five hundred fifty three point six seven five break," replied the Simulation.

  "Roughly once in every billion trunks," said Wolff.

  "Very roughly break."

  "Yes, you'll find we humans are perfectly happy with rough estimates, except when we aren't," said Wolff. "But the bottom line is, 'not often'."

  "There are trillions of lines break Most trunk lines where the discovery is made do not long survive the discovery break," noted the Simulation. "Only lines which do are considered for Guardianship break."

  "So we've actually done the right thing by keeping this a tightly-held secret," said von Barronov. "If we let it get out that we're really part of a computer simulation, or as Ari likes to say, 'The Sims It's For Real This Time Edition,' all hell could literally break loose."

  "And there are two worldlines at stake," realized Ariela. "Not just ours, but the Shizzles', too."

  "How many other simulant species have discovered the Simulation?" asked Wolff.

  "In the current epoch yours and the Xzl5!vt only break No others break."

  "Seriously? What constitutes the current epoch? No, wait, I think I know – this is the 42nd epoch of the Guardians, right? So during the entire time Bob's species have been in control, the discovery has been made in only two simulant trunks."

  "Correct break Note also a high percentage of trunks never develop sentient life break Trillions of trunks since this logic began but only billions with sentience break."

  "So – wait, stop! This is interesting, but it's not what I need," said Ariela, with a glare at the two men. "I need some guidance on how to deal with the Shizzle. So far, we've been lucky. We may not get so lucky when I talk to one of their actual diplomats. Will they react as Dizfor did, to my Lion of God schtick, or are they going to be hardened to that line of bull?"

  "In an initial negotiation in which you are simply setting up the parameters for the full negotiation they will likely react identically break," said the Simulation. "Presuming success, this logic will provide further guidance for the in-person meeting break."

  "It's not a face-to-face meeting, this time," added Wolff. "About all they can do is hang up on you and start shooting at us. And if they start shooting at us, we rotate home, come back with the Fleet, and try again."

  "You are being hailed on twenty-one point two megahertz break."

  Ariela looked down at her holotab screen, blinked, and tapped the unmute button. "Frumious Bandersnatch, Second Lieutenant Wolff speaking."

  "Frumious Bandersnatch, this the Proven in Battle, Captain Dz4!bz speaking. My apologies for th
e delay. I have on the line a representative of our government, Negotiator Ejr3@lt, who will discuss with you the protocols for a full meeting between our peoples."

  "So much for the idea that the bang sound is a surname marker," whispered Wolff.

  "Might be a different ethnic group," suggested von Barronov.

  "Hmm, could be."

  Ariela, annoyed, waved at them to shut up. "Negotiator Ejr3@lt," she barely managed to get it formed, but succeeded, "welcome to the discussion. How may we best arrange to meet?"

  "Lieutenant Wolff, I welcome you to Xzl5!vt on behalf of my government. It is my understanding that this is a preliminary discussion to set the parameters for a full negotiation. I will be part of that effort, but I will not be the lead negotiator; that will fall to my friend and superior, a retired engineer named Yuz8!rfk."

  Ariela stared. "I'm sorry, Negotiator, but did you say Yuz8!rfk?"

  Thank goodness for the translator, she thought.

  "Yes," replied Ejr3@lt. "He was in a meeting with our governing council when the word came of your arrival. He insisted, rather strenuously, on leading the negotiation. As they were already trying to force him to yield certain concessions to them, when he proposed to offer those concessions in exchange for the post, there seemed little other choice. Besides," and Ariela could hear in his voice what in a human she would call a smile, "he has been negotiating with them for literally years over these same concessions, and he has always been able to say, 'no', and get them to accept it."

  "Until the last time," mouthed Wolff. Ariela glared at him.

  "We will be pleased to negotiate with Yuz8!rfk," replied Ariela, smoothly, back in her Lion of God voice. "Our primary concern, however, is time and place, as well as anything that might ease the conduct of the negotiation. Given our spheres of influence do not overlap, and given the distance of our separation, there is no good reason why they ever should, it seems unlikely that there would ever be a dispute over purely territorial matters."

  "Territorial matters?" asked Ejr3@lt, sounding surprised. "Such few as are disputed are transacted by bureaucrats in the Home and Foreign Office. The type of negotiation we are embarked upon in this instance is purely military and religious in nature. The question to be resolved is whether or not we should be at war."

  "I see," replied Ariela. "Does this have to do with what we do or do not put in our whisky?"

  Ejr3@lt laughed. "I see you know something of us."

  "I am surprised the reverse is not true," said Ariela. "It seems that your Engineer Yuz8!rfk and my father, Major John Wolff, have a mentor in common."

  Silence reigned for a moment.

  "Lieutenant, I can neither confirm nor deny your proposition," said Ejr3@lt, cautiously. "Particularly not over an unencrypted link."

  "Surely you are aware that our culture is not the same as yours? We have many religions, but none in which whisky is a sacrament. At least, not in a formal way. For a number of my acquaintances, and even myself, whisky can provide a near-religious experience," Ariela said, with humor, "but that is a different matter entirely."

  "Ari!" hissed Wolff. She glanced over at him. He was holding up a paper notepad, with the words DON'T ANTAGONIZE HIM written in black felt marker. He flipped the page and it said, WE NEED HIM TO GET TO YUZ8!RFK.

  Oops.

  "However," she added, "we understand that is important to you, and wish to make assurances on that point."

  Ejr3@lt chuckled. "Good recovery, Lieutenant. I am personally agnostic, but side with the current government in this dispute."

  Whew.

  "Negotiation is quite formalized in our culture," he went on. "There is a particular place, and there are particular ways of doing things. As the potentially aggrieved party, we insist on doing things our way. The details may be accessed of course, but I will make sure you are provided with copies of the protocols. Hopefully whatever is translating our conversation can also translate our written language."

  "Point of information," said Ariela. "In what way are you potentially aggrieved? We come in peace, having followed radio broadcast signals here in hopes of finding another sentient, space-faring race under God's shared Heaven. We mean you no harm, only contact and exchange of ideas, and perhaps even of goods and technologies, if that is amenable to your government."

  "You have entered our space without permission, though Captain Dz4!bz brings you to us under his guarantee of safe conduct. We know nothing about you, Lieutenant. We have no idea if your race is a threat to us or not. And of course, there is the question of the Sacrament; disregarding my own particular views, it is a very important point for the vast majority of our people."

  "Stipulating everything else you just said, since we do not consider whisky a sacramental beverage, I fail to understand why it is an issue for you."

  "You must understand that a certain segment of our population will automatically consider itself at war with you given whether you adulterate . . . hmm, perhaps that is not the best word . . . let us say, whether you do or do not add water ice to whisky."

  "Negotiator," replied Ariela, brow furrowing, "in our society, such is at the drinker's discretion. Again, we do not use whisky as a sacrament. However, many of our religions hold wine, or other products of the grape, in that regard."

  "I see," came from Ejr3@lt. "Let us work around this a different way. Do your religious adherents put water ice in their sacramental wine?"

  Ariela grimaced and looked almost ill. "Um. No? Low-alcohol content wine can be made stronger by freezing it, which separates the water out as ice and leaves the alcohol liquid, but the ice is, so far as I know, thrown away. Certainly we do not drink wine with ice in it, though we do have something called a 'wine cooler' that is simply refrigerated wine, not wine with actual ice. But sacramental wine is an entirely different product, and is strictly plain grape wine without any additional mixers."

  "Then we may have a point of congruence upon which we can agree that alcohol used strictly for sacramental purposes is properly used without water ice."

  "Why, Negotiator," laughed Ariela, "you are a master of the art of compromise."

  Ejr3@lt sounded modest. "It is always in the best interests of both sides to be able to come to an agreeable understanding of what is most important on every point under consideration. Which is simply my way of acknowledging I have had masterful teachers – even some of them on the opposing side of the question. I have seen negotiations come to successful ends when both sides agreed it was not the manner in which the whisky was served so much as the fact that the whisky was served at all."

  "Out of curiosity, do your people argue over single-malt versus blends?"

  Ejr3@lt laughed. "There are more picky arguments about whisky, Lieutenant, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

  Over at the controls, Wolff and von Barronov rolled their eyes. "God-damned translator," muttered Wolff.

  Ariela ignored them. "Very well, Negotiator; do we believe that we have a reasonable framework for a full negotiation?"

  "I would say so, Lieutenant."

  "Then let us set a time and date agreeable to both sides, when we will return with a full negotiating team per your guidelines."

  "Agreed. So, conversion factors between your time divisions and ours . . ."

  Ariela looked at the other two. "This will probably take a while," she whispered.

  Wolff nodded. "No problem. Good job."

  Ariela smiled, and turned back to her holotab . . .

  Interlude:

  The In-Between

  Personal Diary of Ariela Rivers Wolff, Volume 60

  30 June 2047

  Aboard the RV Frumious Bandersnatch in the HIP 98813 system

  Yay me! I did it!

  And I won't say I had a lot of doubt, because man, I had a LOT of doubt.

  But this was just the preliminaries. The playoffs. The run-up. Whatever. The real negotiation is in three months' time, back on Xzl5!vt, and I have to be prepared for the real shit. Like, one of
the other side's negotiators possibly getting enraged and coming at me with a big sword-knife that looks like a kukri. Which is their traditional ironmongery for a negotiator, so nothing out of the ordinary – for them.

  When I think of diplomacy and negotiations, I think of guys in morning clothes or formals, bowing to one another and acting polite even if they hate each other's guts. Big fancy rooms with gold leaf trim. Versailles. Ancient French furniture, think Louis XIV, giant gilt-framed portraits of men and women in outdated clothing, suits of armor and other statuary. Maybe the Pope or an archbishop present to give his blessing to the proceedings.

  Sorry, I'm a sucker for old paintings and posed photos.

  In reality, modern human diplomacy consists of a bunch of diplomats in suits sitting around a table and batting ideas back and forth until a treaty framework is built. Then they have a fancy signing ceremony (usually just suits and dresses for the last hundred or so years), and the treaty at least in the case of the U.S. goes back to the Senate for formal ratification. We've had a few Presidents try to get around ratification, but mostly that sort of shit doesn't feed the bulldog – the Paris thing on global climate change, for instance, or that execrable "deal" Bill Clinton – sorry, that was my timeline, in this one it was Barack Obama, and much later – tried to claim was "just a deal, not a treaty" with Iran to prevent them from developing nuclear weapons. (In both cases, the traitor John Kerry was the "diplomat" who arranged the "deal".) Thankfully, in this timeline, President Trump saw through that BS and killed both "agreements" with a metaphorical axe. (In my timeline, the Israelis and the Saudis simply made common cause and nuked Iran's enrichment facilities off the planet. President Palin approved.)