Harvest

by Olga Werby

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Seed Phoebe, Elder Alaba, and most of the scientists at our Vault.”

  “How come I wasn’t informed?” Alice asked. The Vaults maintained good communications with their ex-Seeds. Alice should have been notified as soon as the danger became obvious.

  “The bloody things were discovered just a few weeks ago. And then Vars disappeared. And then…” Matteo looked around; they were pulling up to the pier. “I arranged to talk to you as soon as I could,” he added quietly.

  “I want these things out of me.”

  “What about the rest of the EPSA team?” he asked.

  “We all have the implants. Most had them already—those who didn’t were required to get them. I’ll make sure we remove them from the Mimas team, but…will that even help? We’ll still have these things floating around our bodies. And all of our supplies for the mission would be coming from Earth. Everything will be contaminated...”

  “I know. But for now, removing the implants is the best we can do.”

  He lifted Alice up onto the ladder to the pier. Once she was secure, he squeezed her arm goodbye; she felt the sick tingling of her D-tats where he touched her. She inhaled deeply to drive away nausea and climbed up as fast as she could.

  Chapter Six

  The next weeks at EPSA were a blur for Vars. She didn’t even have time to spend with the team or Alice—her days were entirely taken up with training for the space voyage. Since she had never expected to leave Earth—evolutionary socio-historians didn’t tend to do that kind of travel—Vars had never taken so much as a basic course in space safety. She now found herself cramming like a grad student in an effort to pass an endless array of required tests before the team left for Mimas.

  “How’s progress, Vars?” Ian asked. He had come to take Vars to lunch. He tried to do so every few days.

  “I haven’t done so much memorization since I was a student. And the physical training...” Vars complained lightheartedly. The truth was she found it all very interesting and wanted to be as ready as she could be. Yet despite the many hours of drills and testing, she realized that in a real emergency she would be a liability. She hoped Ian’s team knew it too. They must—she was sure all her progress reports and scores were shared with Ian and the rest of the Mimas group.

  As if reading her mind, Ian said, “I looked over your progress reports. You’re doing amazing! Just amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  She started to turn toward the cafeteria, but instead Ian gestured toward the door leading outside into the redwood grove. “Let’s go outside today. I figured it would be nice to experience a bit of sunshine, a touch of nature, before we take off.”

  Vars realized that Ian was right: once they left, it would be a very long time before she walked outside again without protective gear.

  Ian took her to the gazebo with a table big enough for at least a dozen people. It had all kinds of built-in tech for meetings and outdoor lunches. The food was already laid out: a coffee dispenser, cheeses, lunchmeats, fruits, and a giant basket of fresh-baked breads and pastries. EPSA didn’t skimp.

  “This is all very nice of you, Ian. But I really don’t have time for a long lunch.” Vars was feeling overwhelmed with the amount of work she still had to finish before departure.

  “Yes, you do. I’m giving you the rest of the day off. You—we need this.”

  Ian pulled out a chair for her, then sat next to her. Vars noticed that there were three other settings and wondered who else from the team would be joining them. She hoped Alice would; Vars hadn’t talked to the woman since their walk among these trees a few weeks back.

  Ian poured both of them an iced coffee. He grabbed some bread and salami and assembled a sandwich on his plate. “Sandwich?” he asked. “We have turkey and veg.”

  “I think I’ll just have some of that fruit salad and a Danish,” said Vars. “I can’t imagine we’ll get a lot of fresh apples, citrus, or fresh pastries out in space.”

  Ian laughed. “You’re right. Although we will have some basic lettuce and such from the hydroponics. And the coffee sucks up there too, so drink up now.” He helped himself to some fruits, charcuterie, and a croissant in addition to his sandwich.

  As Vars drank her iced coffee, the twins, Ebi and Ibe, joined them. Both piled their plates high with pastries. Either they, too, were worried about the lack of freshly baked goods in space, or they both had a sweet tooth.

  “Ebi. Ibe,” Vars said. She tried to quickly slide her eyes off each, pretending to recognize who was who—which she still couldn’t do reliably. As always, the siblings were dressed nearly identically, as if trying to make it even harder on her. Vars was sure that after several months of traveling in very close quarters, she would have no problem. But now… “It’s nice to see you again,” she added with a smile.

  “We’ve been working on variables to consider when determining whether a species has what it takes to become spacefaring,” said one of them without any preamble.

  That’s Ebi, Vars thought. Even as her speech mannerisms were identical to her brother’s, her voice was just a tad higher. As long as both of them were together and spoke first, Vars thought she would be able to tell them apart. But she was sure the twins played pranks on people all the time. She vowed never to guess the sender of a versing message from them. Sound was just too easy to manipulate.

  “We used your notes and references to start our list,” added Ibe.

  “And included a few other ideas,” said Ebi. Vars would bet that they routinely finished each other’s sentences.

  “I would love to see what you came up with,” she said. “I’m not sure my humanity-focused ideas were useful—”

  “Oh, you’ve made a great start,” Ibe said while stuffing his face with a whole Danish. It came out a bit patronizing, but Vars didn’t think it was on purpose. The twins were...different.

  Vars took a big bite of her own Danish. Mimicking was a great way for primates to forge trust; and she wanted the twins to trust her.

  “So, first and most obvious,” Ebi said, “individuals who build star-faring civilizations need a long lifespan. It’s either that or a more efficient transfer of knowledge from generation to generation.”

  “You did read my book,” Vars said. She had written several chapters on technologically advanced societies and the prerequisites that were necessary for their development and sustainability. She’d specifically noted that it would be hard to develop technology if one’s life expectancy hovered in the mid-twenties. That’s why the improvements in hygiene and agriculture yielded not only longer lifespans but also the Industrial Revolution. Improvements in human condition functioned as a feedback loop—longer life gave people more opportunities to study and invent new ways of doing things, including advancements in life-extension therapies. Yet this feedback loop was subject to disruption and collapse. Human history was littered with ruins of once grand civilizations. “To sustain longevity, you would need plenty of opportunities to acquire knowledge, new and old. Life-long learning is a must for successful civilizations,” she added.

  “Of course! That’s on our list,” Ibe said through the side of his mouth, which was mostly occupied trying to reduce the giant pastry into swallowable bits.

  “And we also need a civilization that makes invention profitable,” Ebi said. “There would need to be laws that protect inventors. Patents or something similar. So then we would need a centralized, global government to enforce those.”

  “Strong individualism with a personal expectation to reap rewards from one’s accomplishments,” Ibe added. “Risk-taking—that has to be encouraged too.”

  “Don’t be too human-focused,” Vars managed to say between the twins’ back and forth. “What about a hive mind, for instance?”

  “Of course, of course,” Ibe said. “That’s just one possibility, thoug
h.”

  “And it would have to be a science-focused society,” Ebi continued without a pause. “No science, no space travel. Naturally.”

  “Naturally,” Vars repeated. It was interesting to hear which parts of her book the twins had taken to heart. She hadn’t heard anything about the need for compassion or community yet. All discussion of collectivist versus individualist societies dissipated. People focus on only those parts of discussion that match their own sensibilities. Vars was witnessing selective information processing; she had to remember to pop those bias bubbles continuously...including her own. It mattered more than ever now.

  “And, of course, the species would need plenty of resources and a climate that doesn’t require too much struggle for survival,” Ebi said. “Space travel requires leisure. If everything is focused on survival, then there’s no time or resources left for big projects. Survival trumps exploration. And, of course, big projects need low-cost labor—slaves, or a caste system, or technology—”

  “Or an inferior race that can provide for the needs of the scientists and explorers,” Ibe finished.

  Vars noted how “scientists” were included in the twins’ conception of the elite social class. In her own work, she had found that researchers tended not to make it into the top tier of human societies. But the twins’ perspective was heavily informed by their perception of their own position in the human hierarchy. Bias always led to more bias.

  “Inferior race?” Vars questioned. She wondered where they were going with that.

  “Sure,” said Ibe. “It would obviously be convenient to have some other entity do the unpleasant work. We still use animals, even very intelligent animals, to do work for us. And for a long time, most human societies had slaves. War is a great way of subjugating the losing side.”

  “I wrote about tolerance of diversity as one of the necessary traits for the flourishing of an advanced science-driven civilization,” Vars said. She didn’t like how the twins had jumped straight to the basest of human traits. “Acceptance of novelty and new ways of doing things are prerequisites for scientific thought—and for the fruits of new research to take hold and spread among the population.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ebi replied. “Without diffusion of innovation, there’s less technology and more tech abandonment.”

  Ibe picked up the thought. “Technology begets technology. It’s an autocatalytic process—a self-increasing positive feedback loop. Really, Vars, we’ve read all of your book—practically memorized it,” Ibe assured her. “But per your words, knowledge and technology are spread three ways: borrowing, trading, and taking. When we go and research the Mimas artifact, we hope to borrow all the tech we can understand—in order to reverse-engineer it—and take all we don’t.”

  “And if, or when, we contact the Mims,” began Ebi, “we’ll—”

  “Mims? We’ve named the aliens?” Vars interrupted.

  “Just a working name,” Ian cut in. He had been listening quietly during this whole exchange.

  “As I was saying, if we contact the Mims,” Ebi began again, “we’ll do our best to establish trade, of course.”

  “If we have something they desire,” said Vars.

  “Well, they did come to us,” Ian pointed out.

  “And if we can’t find something they want or if we are not willing to make the trade they desire, then what?” Vars asked. “Are you prepared to start an interstellar war?” She couldn’t believe she’d even said such a crazy thing out loud, but the way the conversation was going, she wanted to know. How far was Ian’s team willing to go? What would be the parameters of this interspecies negotiations? Who made the ultimate decisions?

  “War is a very ugly word,” said Ibe.

  “War is ugly,” Vars agreed.

  Ian spoke soothingly. “Ebi and Ibe were tasked with creating the first rough draft of what we could expect from the Mims. But that’s all it is—a rough draft. I’m hoping that once we get on the way, we’ll all work together—under your guidance, Vars—to refine these ideas.”

  “Yes, we definitely need to work on your preliminary set of variables,” said Vars. She hoped it wasn’t too late to steer Ibe and Ebi and the rest of the team into a more peaceful frame of mind. Diplomacy stood a better chance at succeeding if they knew the boundaries they were not willing to cross.

  Alice arrived at Vars’s EPSA-assigned quarters late that evening just as Vars was getting ready for bed.

  “Alice?” Vars said. It came out more of a question than a hello, but then again, it was late. “What can I do for you?”

  Without a word, Alice stepped inside and practically collapsed into a big reading chair. She held her arms to her body and looked to be in a lot of pain.

  “What’s wrong?” Vars asked, suddenly concerned. “What did they do to you?”

  “I had them rip it all out,” she said. She pulled up her sleeves. The bandages started at her wrists and disappeared under her clothing.

  “But why?” Vars was about to have D-tats implanted herself—Ian had made it a condition of her going into space. She rubbed her own arms in sympathy; it felt like ants were marching up and down her veins. And this was before the surgery.

  Alice made a small, pitiful sound, and Vars jumped to get her some water. She didn’t know what else to do; what other comforts could she offer the woman?

  “Thank you,” Alice said. She tried to pick up the glass that Vars placed by her side but couldn’t do it. Her arms were shaking too much.

  “Why, Alice? Why did you do it?” Vars asked again.

  “I had a bad reaction,” Alice said, but the way she looked at Vars made Vars think it was something else.

  Vars looked about her room. She hadn’t seen any surveillance equipment in her room, and Ian had assured her that EPSA didn’t do that kind of stuff. But Alice was clearly acting as if it wasn’t safe to talk here.

  “Should we go outside and get you some air?” Vars asked. “Sometimes, after surgery and anesthesia—”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” Alice started to stand up but swayed a bit. Vars rushed to her and offered aid. She wasn’t sure where it didn’t hurt to touch, so she just provided her arm for support. “Thank you, Vars. Outside, in the fresh air…”

  Vars grabbed the extra blanket at the foot of her bed and escorted Alice out.

  It was cool but not yet cold. It was damp, and Vars worried that the fresh air might actually hurt Alice. But the woman kept pulling her deeper into the artificial woods. The redwoods had been planted to resemble a natural tree dispersal, and only a few yards in, the buildings were obscured from view. A few yards in, it actually felt like wilderness, even though they were in one of the most well-developed and technologically advanced areas on the planet.

  “Pull out my tablet,” Alice said, turning to show a large jacket pocket.

  Vars pulled a mini personal computing device from the pocket. It was a newer model than Vars’s.

  It took Alice a few tries to get her biometrics to unlock the device. “My fingers are still a bit clumsy,” she said. “Can you take over? I had all my work transferred back to this. Just pull up security and…”

  Vars quickly navigated to the appropriate controls. All the PCDs were standardized, so it was easy, but Vars saw that Alice had a few additional features on her tablet.

  “Alice PCD,” Alice said, using her voice command to authorize further use. She gestured for Vars to hold the device in front of her, and Alice managed to swipe and click a few times. “Okay, that should do. We’ll have a few moments of privacy.”

  “Is there something wrong?” Vars asked. She was still supporting Alice by the elbow and could feel the slight tremors that ran through the woman’s delicate bones. She threw the blanket over both of them, using her own shoulders to support it and allowing the resulting shelter to protect Alice from the late evening chill.


  “I’ve seen your dad,” Alice said. Before Vars could respond, Alice continued. She very quickly summarized everything Matteo had told her—about nanobots, wide-scale contamination including human bodies, and the as-yet-undetermined effects on the D-tats.

  “So that’s why you had yours removed,” Vars said.

  “The timing is just too coincidental,” Alice said. “We discover the alien artifact just as it sends a message out into space, and at the same time Matteo discovers alien nanobots all over Earth, Luna, and we have to assume Mars. And these bots are in every ecosystem, including our bodies.”

  “And there’s no question that they’re of alien origin?”

  “None,” Alice said.

  “You believe these things are linked?”

  “We have to assume that, right?”

  Vars considered it, then nodded in agreement. “So what should we do?”

  “You have to refuse the D-tats.”

  “Ian said it was a deal breaker—no D-tats, no going on the mission.”

  “Ian talks tough, but he’ll let you go. If need be, I’ll come up with a medical excuse for you.”

  “Would that be enough?” Vars didn’t think it would be that easy.

  “It worked for me,” Alice said. “I induced an allergic reaction. They pulled mine out as I was going into anaphylactic shock.”

  “You could have died!”

  Alice shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything else. But I’ll insist that they test you first. Most people get their first implants before puberty. We’re both adults, so it’s plausible that we might face higher risks of rejection.”