Assisted Living

by E. M. Foner

  “Or a very short run,” Dewey said. “The atmosphere on Bits is too thin to sustain life outside the domes without special equipment.”

  “I heard that they’re an anarchy,” Dianne said. “It could make for an interesting article.”

  “They like to play at being anarchists, but that mainly comes down to not sorting their recycling,” Dewey said. “Most of the population earns their living producing interactive games and doing machine language programming for labor-saving devices and toys. They pretend that there’s no government, but they have a rules committee to resolve gaming disputes that ends up laying down the laws and keeping the place running.”

  “Do they have elections?”

  “Tournaments. This will be my first time back, and I’m curious to see if they ever resolved the big platform fight that was going on while I was putting my body together.”

  “What’s a platform fight?” Julie asked. “Something like a cage match?”

  “It’s more of a philosophical difference,” Dewey explained. “Even though it’s been almost a hundred years since the Stryx opened Earth, the programmers on Bits are a throwback community who believe that the old ways are the best. They keep working with early computer languages, though pretty much everything runs on an obsolete Frunge factory controller that emulates hundreds of thousands of low-tech processors. A minority of the population wants to upgrade their hardware so they can learn to work with the holographic systems that are popular for role-playing, but the more traditional group would rather keep it all onscreen and use hand-held gaming controllers.”

  “Are you looking forward to seeing your, uh, creators again?” Julie asked the AI.

  “Like I said, I was an accident that grew out of a large-scale collaborative effort, so I don’t really think of them as family. What I’m really looking forward to is picking up a cargo of electronics repairs for delivery because Flower promised me a commission. Bits is the only place in the galaxy where you can get some of the old hand-held electronic games fixed because they bought up all of the replacement parts from Earth, and it would be too expensive to have the repairs done elsewhere.”

  “Are you telling me that the advanced aliens can’t fix our obsolete technology?”

  “Not cost-effectively,” Dewey told her. “It would be much cheaper for aliens to produce a knockoff that offers better performance on different hardware than to create replacement parts.”

  “So it’s all about money in the end, even with the aliens?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but trade is the lifeblood of the tunnel network, and the Stryx provide infrastructure to promote the flow of goods and services between the member species. Flower never could have agreed to her current role if the Stryx hadn’t provided startup funding.”

  “Plus milestone incentives and performance bonuses,” the Dollnick AI added.

  “What are milestone incentives?” Julie asked.

  “Hitting population growth targets and creating economic activity,” Flower said. “If you have any ideas, I’m always listening.”

  “There’s a difference between listening and listening in,” Julie couldn’t help herself from retorting, but she immediately felt bad about the cheap shot. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

  “Did I mention the incentive for population growth?”

  “I’m not having a baby just so you can earn a bonus.”

  “You’ll think about it,” Flower said.

  Three

  “If I could have your attention please,” announced the athletic older man standing at the front of the shuttle. He faced the group of forty-odd members from the independent living co-operative and waited a few seconds for them to stop talking before he continued. “We’ll be landing on Bits in a few minutes, and—whoa!”

  “Sorry, Jack,” Flower said over the shuttle’s public address system. “Even coming straight down in a thin atmosphere the turbulence can get tricky.”

  “My fault,” the president of the independent living cooperative said, rising from the seat where he’d been suddenly deposited. This time he kept a firm hold on the headrest. “As I was about to say, we’ll be proceeding directly from the shuttle to the main dome, and Flower will extend an airlock tunnel so we won’t have to run for it.”

  “Have you been here before?” somebody asked.

  “Me? Never. I’m going to ask Dianne to give us a quick briefing before we land, but first, I want to welcome the new members who joined Flower’s Paradise at the Alfe recycling habitat to their first field trip.”

  “And our second,” Harry added in an undertone to his wife, Irene.

  “We follow the buddy system, so stick with your assigned partner and don’t go wandering off alone. Julie, our new tour assistant, will be handing each of you a bracelet as you exit the shuttle. Please wear it at all times as it will allow Flower to locate you if you get lost. Irene will be shooting video of our outing for possible use in promotional materials, so if you see her pointing the camera your way, just act natural and try not to curse. Dianne?”

  The Galactic Free Press reporter rose to her feet just as another spot of turbulence deposited Jack back in his seat.

  “I’ve never been to Bits before either, but I checked the paper’s archives for the recent stories, and I can give you a quick rundown of what to expect. Bits is an independent world with a population just under two hundred thousand, almost all of whom are programmers or gamers. The form of government is a pseudo-anarchy guided by a rules committee. Bits is located near the boundary between Horten and Sharf space, and the Bitters are known to associate with the pirates who are based in the area.”

  “How could such a small group afford their own planet?” Nancy asked in a strong voice.

  “The world actually belongs to the Hortens, but they never finished the terraforming work, and leased it to the Bitters. According to my sources, the majority of humans ransomed from the pirates pass through Bits, and many of them stay here.”

  “Are there any special attractions worth seeing, like agricultural domes or parks?”

  “As far as I know, the only attraction on Bits is retro-computer gaming. They import practically all of their food and consumer goods from Earth or the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities, and they aren’t on any regular space liner routes. I spoke with Captain Pyun before we left, and it turns out that Flower is here in response to his special request. A long-standing feud between two different factions for the future of gaming on Bits has led approximately ten percent of the population to decide on emigration. Flower will be taking on board some twenty thousand individuals for transportation to a new home.”

  “Where are they going to end up?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think that’s been decided yet,” Dianne said. “We have another month’s worth of stops at CoSHC worlds before we reach Union Station, and if they haven’t found a new home by then, they can transfer anywhere through the tunnel network, or stay with us until the end of the circuit and return to Earth.”

  “Landing in sixty seconds,” Flower announced. “I’m keeping the deceleration rate to the maximum I use in my lift tubes, so you shouldn’t feel any strain.”

  Dianne took her seat, and for the next minute, everybody stopped talking and kept their eyes on the large display at the front of the cabin which showed the ground rushing up to meet them. There was the slightest bump and the passengers suddenly felt lighter.

  “Thank you for choosing Flower’s Transportation Services,” the Dollnick AI announced. “Please do not attempt to poke holes in the flexible material of the airlock tunnel, or in addition to possible oxygen deprivation, you’ll be charged for the damage. Enjoy your visit and I’ll return for you in four hours.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just leave the shuttle here?” Harry asked.

  “I’m moving it over to the other side of the tarmac as soon as you’re out so I can land the first of my large shuttles for the hackers who are leaving Bits. Don’t forget y
our bracelets, and tell the people waiting in line that it will just be another minute.”

  The front hatch opened with a faint hiss, and the members of the independent living cooperative filed out, each accepting a bracelet from Julie, who had posted herself next to the exit. Harry and his wife waited in their seats until the aisles were clear to make it easier for Irene to maneuver the floating Dollnick immersive camera borrowed from the Grenouthian theatre director.

  “Take my bracelet, Harry,” Irene requested when they reached the exit. “I’d go crazy if I got left behind on a world full of computer geeks, but I don’t want to gamble on confusing the camera’s gesture controls until we’re through the airlock.”

  “I wouldn’t say the world is full of computer geeks,” Harry replied, sliding a bracelet onto his wrist, and accepting another one from Julie for his wife. “I only counted a dozen domes on the view screen, maybe enough to house a small city, but the rest of the place is empty.”

  “What about all of the mounds surrounding them? They looked like artificial structures.”

  “I think they’re trash, or maybe unprocessed recycling. I heard that the inhabitants drink a lot of soda in old-fashioned cans.”

  “Don’t they know what that does to their teeth?” The couple waited for Julie to join them before hitting the button that closed the outer door of the airlock. The inner door opened almost simultaneously, and Irene exclaimed, “Oh, my!”

  A long line extended down the corridor, both men and women, though more of the former than the latter. Each had a backpack or duffle bag at their feet, and they had evidently been waiting for hours, as witnessed by the accumulation of empty pizza boxes and soda cans.

  “Are you it?” a middle-aged man with a pot belly at the head of the line demanded. “We got a message that we could start boarding as soon as the last of the old people got off.”

  “We came on a small shuttle, more like a bus,” Harry replied. “I’m supposed to tell you it will just be a minute for Flower to get it out of the way and land one of her main shuttles.”

  “How big are they?” asked a woman who was second in line. “We held a random-number-generator lottery to set the boarding order, and your captain told us to plan on a thousand people an hour. It’s going to be a traffic jam.”

  “I think Flower’s main shuttles seat a thousand,” Harry informed her. “An hour will give you just enough time to board and let the next batch of people queue up.”

  The airlock hissed open again and a maintenance bot emerged. “All aboard who are coming aboard,” Flower announced through the bot’s speaker grille. “Move all the way to the back of the shuttle to make room for the people boarding behind you. This isn’t a suggestion, anybody who attempts to sit closer to the front will be ejected and banned. Thank you for choosing Flower’s Transportation Services, and have a nice day.”

  “Come on,” Irene said, as the line started filing past them. “I see Jack and Nancy at the end of the corridor waving to us and we don’t want to fall behind.”

  “It doesn’t sound like there’s much to see here anyway,” Harry grumbled, as he and Irene followed Julie. “I’m going to hand out my recruiting flyers and find a place to sit down. Here, I’ll guide the camera while you put on your bracelet.”

  Irene passed control of the floating immersive camera to her husband, who almost ran it into the line of emigrants with an exaggerated hand gesture. She hastened to put on the bracelet and reassume guidance of the Dollnick camera, which seemed to prefer her lighter touch.

  “I don’t know if we’re going to find many candidates here old enough to join our cooperative,” Irene said. “Didn’t you tell me that the minimum age is now sixty-five?”

  “It was as of the last board meeting. We voted to limit the spousal exclusion to five years, so the youngest anybody can join is sixty. Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen anybody over fifty in this line.”

  “Maybe the older people are all staying behind. Look, Julie just turned right.”

  “And the line turns left, so at least we’ll get some breathing room. What’s all that shouting?”

  “I hope nobody’s fighting.”

  “We’d see the others returning if that was the case. I think it’s a competition of some sort.”

  They passed through double doors into a cavernous room with space for a forty-by-forty grid of workstations. Thick bundles of cables ran in every direction. Almost every screen was in use by people wielding ancient keyboards and controllers, meaning close to sixteen-hundred gamers were participating in whatever contest was taking place.

  “Jackpot,” Harry declared loudly. “I doubt there’s anybody under sixty in here.”

  “That fellow with the beard might be fifty-five, but I get your point,” Jack yelled back. “Maybe it’s a special tournament for the older residents.”

  “They sure are noisy,” Nancy said directly in Jack’s ear.

  Irene used careful hand motions to guide the camera high over her head so she could capture video of the pandemonium from above.

  A young woman dressed in a sort of uniform approached the group from Flower. She shouted to make herself heard over the constant stream of taunts and insults the gamers were exchanging at a mindboggling rate.

  “If you’re here for the senior tournament, the next round begins in three hours. It’s five creds to enter, winner takes all.”

  “We’re tourists from Flower,” Jack shouted back.

  The girl appeared to be dumbfounded, but then she signaled for the group to follow her towards a counter with a sign that read, “Rules Committee.” As soon as they stepped within a white line painted on the floor, the background noise was reduced to the point that regular conversation was possible.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say that you’re tourists?” the young woman asked.

  “Yes. Do you represent the rules committee, Miss, er?” Jack replied with a question of his own.

  “Ariel, and I’m the arbitrator for this tournament. I don’t think we’ve ever had tourists on Bits before. We’re not really set up for it.”

  “Is it okay if we just look around?”

  “We’re an anarchy, you can do whatever you want as long as you don’t break any game rules,” Ariel said. “Do you want to participate in the next tournament? It’s Alien Conquest, the last Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game to go live before the Stryx opened Earth.”

  “A computer game from almost a hundred years ago?”

  “We mainly play games that are even older than that. The new ones are too much like real life. I mean, what’s the point?”

  “Is that why there are lines of people waiting to board our ship and leave Bits?” Nancy asked.

  “Good riddance to them,” Ariel said dismissively. “Is everybody on your ship as old as you guys?”

  “We’re part of the independent living cooperative,” Jack said. “Flower’s Paradise. We go for outings at all of the ship’s stops and sometimes we do a little recruiting,” he added, holding up a sheaf of flyers.

  “Is that printed paper?” the young woman asked, taking a flyer. “How cool. I think I saw a commercial for your place on one of the display boards, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “You’re not exactly in our demographic sweet-spot,” Nancy told her. “So all of those people we saw in line are leaving their homes because of an argument over what games to play?”

  “It’s not just that,” Ariel said indignantly. “We want to preserve the art of coding the way it was developed on Earth, right down to machine language. That’s why we specialize in programming simple microcontrollers for cheap consumer goods. Even the aliens hire us for some jobs.”

  “The only programming I’ve ever done is by voice,” Jack said, and several of the other retirees nodded their agreement. “I used to work for the Dollnicks on one of their ag worlds and—”

  “That’s not coding,” Ariel interrupted. “If the computer is smart enough to understand spoken wor
ds, all you’re doing is supplying data for programs that already exist, like typing numbers in a spreadsheet.”

  “What’s a spreadsheet?” Harry asked.

  “I’m not really sure, but the old people are always talking about them,” the girl confessed. “Hey, if you want to recruit here, you should try the penalty box.”

  “Is that the name of a bar?” Jack asked.

  “No, it’s where the game master sends players who curse.”

  “You kick people out of the game for a little bad language?”

  “Not swearing, cursing, like giving somebody bad luck or turning them into a werewolf. Don’t you guys play games at all?” she asked, directing her question at Julie, who was obviously the youngest person in the group.

  “Between my jobs and my team sport requirement, I’m kind of busy,” Julie said, somewhat embarrassed at being singled out. “What’s all of the junk piled up around the outside of the room?”

  “Oh, that’s our museum,” Ariel said. “I could give you a tour for, uh, say one cred a head, plus I’ll bring you over to the penalty box.”

  “We won’t be able to hear anything you say,” Harry pointed out.

  “I can fix that. The audio suppression field in the room is variable and I have admin access.”

  “How about twenty creds for everybody?” Jack suggested. “We’re on a budget.”

  “Done,” the arbitrator agreed immediately, a sure sign that she’d gotten more than she expected. Ariel picked up a tab from the rules committee table, flipped through a couple of menus, and moved around some sliders on a virtual control panel. “There. I blocked the noise in the penalty box as well so they’ll be able to hear your pitch.”

  Jack dug a twenty-cred coin out of his pocket and passed it to the girl. “Can I get a receipt?”

  “Remind me later,” Ariel said, and began backing away from the group while talking like a professional tour guide. “This is the main dome on Bits where we have the tournament space, the museum, and the school during the week. The other domes are residential and you can’t really go anywhere in them without an ID, which is how we keep clan raids from turning serious.”