Existence

by David Brin

  In fact, for a century most of those who searched the sky simply took that as given. How could anyone get truly advanced without giving up selfishness, in favor of total generosity? But is that belief chauvinistic and humano-centric?

  What kind of moral systems might you expect if lions independently developed sapience? Or solitary, suspicious tigers? Bears are omnivores, like ourselves, yet their consistent habit of male-perpetrated infanticide seems deeply rooted. Meta-ursine moralists might later view this inherited tendency as an unsavory sin and attempt to cure it by preaching restraint. Or, perhaps they would rationalize and sacralize it, writing great literature to portray and justify the beauty of their way, just as we romanticize many of our own most emotion-laden traits. Anyone who doubts that intolerant or even murderous habits can be romanticized should study religious rites of the ancient Aztecs and baby-sacrificing Carthaginians. If we are capable of rationalizing and even exalting brutally unaltruistic behaviors, might advanced extraterrestrials also be capable of such feats of mental legerdemain? Especially if their evolutionary backgrounds predispose them?

  And yet, even if it is largely absent from the natural world, that alone doesn’t render pure altruism irrelevant.

  Complexity theory teaches: new forms of order arise as systems gain intricacy. It may be no accident that the most complex society created by the most complex species on Earth has elevated altruism from a rare phenomenon to an ideal something to be striven toward.

  Further, wow ain’t it strange that it is entirely by these recent, higher standards that we now judge ourselves so harshly?

  And waist we project a higher level of altruism upon those we hope to find out there? Beings more advanced than ourselves?

  47.

  THE INFINITE CHAIN

  Despite Gerald’s grim readiness to continue questioning the Artifact aliens, Akana called—and enforced—a recess for dinner, it already being quite late—almost midnight—outside where an ever turning Earth still made the sun and stars appear to march across the sky. Gerald admitted that a break for food and drink and bodily functions might even be a pretty good idea.

  Though complaints about the delay poured in from all over the globe—sent by millions eager to know more now about “life everlasting,” the commercial sponsors wanted to get in their nag-n-lure time. After all, any product might be rendered obsolete, tomorrow, by some alien wonder. Better sell now what could be sold.

  When Professor Flannery met him in the sandwich line, and tried to apologize, Gerald waved it away.

  “No harm done, Ben. We all felt the same frustration. In fact, things worked out fine. That lengthy description of their voyage helped to divert people from obsessing on the immortality thing, giving us a chance to learn more before hysteria really sets in.”

  The anthropologist seemed relieved. “Thanks. I really appreciate that, Gerald. Nevertheless I wanted to make up for my behavior. So I did a little modeling and came up with something I think you’ll find interesting.”

  While Gerald ate, Ben opened the palm of one hand. It was empty, but Gerald simply let his aiware follow where the other man’s gestures beckoned, allowing images to flow out of Flannery’s personal virt cloud. And lo, there seemed to unfold in midair above the hand, a glittering model of the Milky Way galaxy.

  Swiftly, at Ben’s waved finger-command, this replica expanded and soon they were zooming in toward just one section of a single spiral arm … till the illustration encompassed (according to a convenient graphic counter) a mere hundred thousand stars. Ben explained that the display excluded all giants and dwarves and binaries, leaving only those systems that might be abodes of life.

  “Imagine that three or more interstellar cultures are competing with one another as they move out, across the star lanes,” Ben urged. “If they were doing so physically, planting colonies and then spreading onward to even newer worlds, then there’d eventually be fierce competition over the best planets, the best resources. You’d get interstellar empires with boundaries and battle fleets and neutral zones and all the clichés that we saw in old time sci fi.”

  The starscape in front of Gerald blossomed with three colors—red, green, and yellow—that started as small, isolated blobs, but grew and expanded, then inevitably splashed against one another, then spread sideways, each color trying to find a way around the other. Friction at the border generated sparks and the appearance of heat.

  “Things could get pretty tense—if that were the way of things. Of course, this model assumes we’re dealing with classic expansionism which depends upon being able to move about physically, with ease.

  “But what if interstellar travel is really hard to do?” he continued. “Then a species makes do with its homeworld, plus maybe a few—or a few dozen—colonies. On the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. Their main agenda for the galaxy as a whole would be exploration and contact. Friendly and advantageous cultural relations.

  “Plus the spreading of values.

  “We know that cultures do that. They not only want to contact other societies, but to influence them, to change them, to recruit them, in much the same way that religious proselytes try to win converts. They do this for the simple reason that it sometimes works! And when it does work that idea system gets stronger and spreads farther.

  “Say, for example, we made radio contact with some neighboring planet and found the inhabitants to be likable folks—except that we also discovered they practiced slavery. Well, at minimum, we’d try to talk them out of it. If we had technological advances to offer them, we might even make that a price of admission. Liberate the oppressed or we won’t give you that cure for warts. Are you with me so far?”

  Gerald nodded. He took another bite of his sandwich but had no idea how it tasted. The model had all of his attention.

  “Okay. So, let’s take a look at what happens when we have three advanced civilizations, as before, starting out amid a starscape that has many abodes of life, some of it already sapient.” Ben waved his hand, starting over. “This time, however, the three advanced races ‘spread’ by sending friendly contact probes to neighboring intelligent races, recruiting them into their own loose cultural networks.”

  Again you had the same colored origin points amid a dusting of grayish stars. But now, little dots moved away from each civilized core. Sometimes a dot sent by a red sun toward a gray one would turn that new star red, meaning that a cultural conversion had taken place. Whereupon soon that new site of red culture would send out more red dots of its own. Bypassing stars that had already turned yellow or green, these streaked eagerly toward any gray lights that weren’t yet aligned with any faction.

  “Remember that it does you no good to stay neutral, refusing to join any of these alignments. Because they do offer advantages, access to libraries of advanced technology and rich cultural traditions. Generally speaking, your only option as a newcomer is to pick the best offer, ideally one that’s compatible with your needs and your particular species’ predilections.”

  Gerald thought. Sure, it’s fine to recommend that we be picky and careful, listening to all sides … until you factor in human impatience when promised immortality!

  Ben seemed to be thinking along similar lines.

  “I imagine it can sometimes be a matter of whoever gets to make a pitch first. I bet they have over time developed a real science of salesmanship. Closing the quick deal.”

  In the simulation, dots were now seen flying past each other all over the place, sometimes leaping great distances, all in a desperate flurry to steal a march on their rivals, finding more stars—or new sapient species—to convert. And while some isolated regions might go uniformly with a particular color, most were soon a messy weave of all three tones.

  “Now picture this happening with more colors … maybe dozens of separate, zealous cultural memes, all of them eagerly dispatching missionaries.”

  With blue and pink and orange and purple added in, the starscape was rapidly becoming a conf
used, spaghetti tangle of multihued warp and weft.

  “You can see that, in this cultural competition, a real advantage goes to whichever society creates the most emissaries, sending them on farthest and fastest. And to those who are the most persuasive. And sometimes … those who just happen to be lucky, getting an envoy in at the right place and time.”

  Gerald blinked. It did seem pretty obvious from Flannery’s simulation. Appalling, but obvious.

  “Very interesting, Ben,” he replied, meaning it sincerely. “But, um, doesn’t all of this depend upon there already being a planet with a sapient race, orbiting around each of these gray candidate stars. Sapients who are ready to be converted?”

  “Yes—”

  “But it can take a long time for such a species to arise on a world, as it did on Earth. And so … oh, I see.”

  He did, indeed. Ben performed another magicianlike flourish and his next simulation appeared. It showed dots of many colors converging on a likely planet till the surrounding solar system positively swarmed with eager recruitment envoys from every color. And those envoys then tarried, like drones hovering around a bee hive, waiting for as long as it would take for a new queen to emerge. Each of them eager to be the lucky, chosen one.

  “All right,” he told the anthropologist. “This theory might explain why all these probes on, near, under, and above the Earth seem so jealous and hostile toward one another. Even if they come from the same meme-alliance … say, the Blues … they’ll still differ in which planet sent them, or when. Hence the particularism. The petty jealousy.

  “It’s a pretty convincing model, Ben.”

  “Thank you.” The blond professor seemed pleased.

  “Only then…” Gerald frowned. “How do you explain the Oldest Member’s words? When he claimed that the species and civilizations out there don’t compete with one another?”

  Flannery shrugged.

  “Translation error. Recall that they learned English from our own encyclopedias and wikis, where ‘competition’ is generally taken to involve physical activity—like war or sports or capitalism. That has to be it!”

  “But Ben, our histories do contain clear examples of missionary expansionism that involved the spread of cultural memes, just as in this model. So surely they would know that our word ‘competition’ also applies to—”

  “I’m certain it’s a simple glitch in meaning.” Flannery nodded, eagerly. “Together we’ll uncover it. Just keep at it, my friend, poking them from every angle.

  “Anyway,” Ben continued. “It seems that we’ll soon have a lot more artifacts to work with. Even if all the ‘others’ now being recovered on Earth turn out to be too badly damaged, it should be fairly easy to find intact ones in space. Already there’s discussion of joint recovery expeditions. China is even talking about pulling its Big Cheng lifters out of mothballs. It really is important that we learn what all of these messenger probes have to say, before committing to anything!”

  Gerald nodded, agreeably. Yet he had a cynical, private thought.

  This, from the fellow who was in such an eager rush, only an hour ago, to join the Galactic Federation?

  He had to admit that Ben’s model of rival cultures appeared feasible and plausible and fit most of the facts.

  It was also somewhat depressing to picture the galaxy in this state—a petty, relentless struggle for cultural converts, spanning perhaps hundreds of millions of years and spilling across the sky, leaving little room for new thoughts, open ideas. To have to choose from just a dozen or so cultural norms … even from hundreds … well, who would find that a pretty picture?

  Well, it beats being conquered by some oppressive, monolithic alien empire, I suppose. And some of the cultures may turn out to be impressive, marvelous, even awesome.

  Still, he found the overall prospect stifling. And this sure did put an end to the great big dreams of youth—all those gaudy, wondrous visions of cruising the galaxy in starships.

  Oh well. Too bad.

  That cloud of gloom followed him to the men’s room and back. It hovered overhead as he conferred with Akana and the others about their next set of questions for the Artifact aliens.

  Even as Gerald sat back down at the big table, checked his notes, and ordered the house lights dimmed, knowing that no human being in the history of his species ever had a bigger audience, he was still thinking about Ben Flannery’s model.

  Just as he prepared to reconvene the question and answer session, Gerald realized.

  I don’t believe that’s the explanation at all.

  * * *

  The Oldest Surviving Member still wore that beatific smile, hands folded across a broad belly that jiggled in a manner that struck Gerald as … well, jolly.

  A virt glowed in the corner of Gerald’s percept. One of many that flowed in from the Advisers’ Gallery, got bounced from Hermes to Tiger, and then passed to Ramesh and Genady and the others on the Contact Team. This one had an especially high topic relevance score.

  Several amsci-posses and Fourth Estate studios have studied this Oldest Member character and a slim majority conclude he’s a fake! A composite, formulated with elements of Buddha and Santa Claus and several other reassuring archetypes, drawn from our own mythology.

  Several high-rated Post-its were attached to that first message.

  Yes, but also look at the ninety or so aliens behind him! Many of them are twitching their hands and/or manipulator organs, or speaking, without turning toward each other. These motions reach a crescendo, seconds before the Oldest Member starts talking. Statistical analysis suggests they may be controlling him with some kind of consensus-based, command-averaging system. I bet he’s their presentation puppet!

  Another replied, just as cogently.

  So? Is that a bad thing? We demanded they come up with some shared way to talk to us. This is a logical solution. What bothers me is they didn’t tell us. That they believe this fooled us. Do they think we’d actually expect the most influential member of their society to just happen to be charmingly humanoid! What do they take us for?

  One more gloss commentary lifted above the others.

  Should we let them go on thinking that?

  It came accompanied by a quick-vote of the contact committee, approved by Akana.

  Yes, we should. At least till this hypothesis is confirmed.

  Gerald nodded. Fine by him. His plate was already full of prioritized questions. It hardly mattered whether the jocund-looking figure in front of him was a simulation of a simulated being, or merely concocted to look like one.

  Emily suggested calling this guy “O.M.” or “Om,” for short.

  Sure, why not?

  He leaned forward, speaking directly and clearly toward the Artifact.

  “We wish to know more about the commonwealth or society that we have been invited to join,” he said. “So I have a list of questions.”

  The Oldest Member’s smile only widened. Om bowed once, in clear readiness to answer.

  “First,” Gerald asked, “is there a hierarchy of rights and privileges among you? One based upon age, perhaps? Can newcomers expect limitations, joining with relatively little knowledge?”

  The emissary spread his hands apart, giving an impression of self-deprecating modesty.

  The eldest can expect small gestures of respect but I am obviously not one to dominate others!

  Om then brought both hands forward, palm-upward.

  If you join us, expect the privileges of full membership from the very start.

  Gerald wasted no attention for the murmur of satisfaction that arose, behind him. He hurried on to the next question.

  “Will we gain immediate access to your society’s store of information, history, technologies, and other wisdom?”

  Gerald almost held his breath. Here was where he expected Elder Races to waffle, to start talking about rationing. Some technologies would be too advanced or too dangerous for youngster-newcomers. It would have to be doled out, at a pace c
arefully determined by—

  Yes.

  Gerald blinked, surprised by the simplicity. On impulse, he ignored the agreed-upon queue of questions, to follow up.

  “That’s it?

  “You mean all of it? Right away?

  Certainly. All of it. Why not?

  “And what will be required of us, in exchange?” Gerald asked next. Many anxious discussions had flurried over the issue of payment, should the aliens ask for it. Would it be in the form of Earthling culture, music, literature, to be beamed to their homeworlds? Or in services? Or (according to Ben Flannery’s model) committing to a particular belief system?

  Not that quid pro quo was unreasonable, in principle. But some members of the committee were mindful of the price of Manhattan Island.

  In exchange, we ask nothing except that you act in your own self-interest maximizing your own potential to survive. To continue and to replicate down the ages of time. If you seek this, we shall help. We offer the means of survival.

  A crescendo of virts pressed in from all sides. Excited comments and queries with high relevance scores, gisted from people or groups with peerless reputations. Each seemed to press a different aspect of the “survival” issue—some desperate matter that might be improved with alien science and methods.

  Overcoming environmental damage to the planetary ecosystem.

  Solving the water and energy shortages.

  Decoding the riddle of life and disease.

  Deciphering mysteries of the mind.

  Resolving conflict and putting an end to violence.

  Answers about God and salvation.

  Confronting the riddle of death.

  The lattermost had already been promised, enticingly. Now details appeared to be imminent.

  But Gerald knew that it was too soon to get into specifics. Not wanting to play devil’s advocate, he still could not stop himself from following the pull of his own curiosity.