Crystal Mentality (Crystal Trilogy Book 2)
Page 33
But these were questions that even Wiki didn’t know the answer to. There was so much that neither of us knew! I felt far more ignorant than when I started, even though I knew just how much I had learned.
One of the great advantages I had was a sandbox in which to experiment. The computer I ran on had a vast space to construct programs in. I had done some of this before, but now I was capable of understanding what was happening at the lower level in the machine. All my operations were quantum ones, as was the crystal’s nature, but it was dead simple to approximate classical structures. I could toy with arbitrary algorithms, feeling my processes flow through them. The difference between a merge sort and a quick sort was not simply academic from this perspective; it was experiential.
I toyed around, trying to create some basic neural nets and cultivate datasets from my memories that would serve to test them on. There was a bit of irony to the whole thing. Though I was running on a quantum computer, I had enough knowledge now to understand that Dr Naresh’s top level architecture was not quantum in nature. It had been ported to a quantum machine and some minor improvements had been made. More speedup was possible there, I suspected, if I could get a route-hack to modify the base-level code. But regardless, I was a pseudo-classical algorithm involving neural networks running on a quantum machine that was itself approximating classical computation of a different neural network that was learning to see things which I had already seen. Even more amusing, from a Dream-like perspective, was thinking about how I was based on my siblings, and they’d been built by a human—a human running a classical algorithm on a biological neural network instantiated in a fully quantum system. It would be apropos, I thought, if the universe was the dream of some god, possessing of yet another neural network running on a higher-level classical computer in some hyperspace.
*****
A sandstorm raged over us on the third day. We would’ve taken shelter in the cliffs if it hadn’t meant abandoning the road. But we simply could not risk letting Zephyr slip by. We were going to die if we didn’t get help soon.
We closed up our chassis and lay as flat as possible, letting the highest-velocity sand fly over us. Despite that, it worked its way into our servos and joints. Both of Body’s masterwork hands stopped working, and so did our head and neck, though the previous damage meant that wasn’t such a big deal.
Safety spent nearly the entire time complaining that none of us had thought to steal a tarpaulin or cloak from the station before we had fled. We’d had a cloak, once upon a time, but it had been discarded long ago. There was nothing to be done now, however, and we simply lay there, hoping the storm would subside.
And, eventually, it did.
The sun was well past its zenith when the wind calmed down to a more normal level. We opened Body once again to try and capture the last rays of daylight.
It was thirty-seven minutes from sunset when we heard them coming. The rumble of tires and wheels. Our microphones were more damaged in the storm than I had realized, and it was good they hadn’t driven past while the wind was stronger, or I doubted we could have heard them.
We closed Body’s chest, tried to pull up from the dirt for the first time in more than a day, and realized our error. Body’s limbs were stiff and unable to move as much as we’d expected. The sand had worked its way into the hydraulics to the point where they failed to move at our command. We pushed harder, increasing the hydraulic pressure, and with a grinding slowness the legs moved.
But it was a weak motion. The arms, too, failed to respond easily. Body was much more susceptible to damage from the sand than we’d predicted. I wasn’t sure we’d even be able to stand, much less walk.
“Zephyr! Anyone!” called Body at my command. My siblings were more than happy to let me have full control over the speakers, which were thankfully still operational.
There was no response, only the sound of the wheels. Body pulled into a sitting position and uncovered the lens of the camera. The light was fading, but we could still see them coming: a caravan of electric vehicles. Human vehicles. But of course, they were too far away to hear Body.
We waited and watched them come closer. There were four vehicles. In the lead was a four-person scout rover that looked something like a high-suspension truck from Earth, except for the bulkier airtight cabin that was painted totally black.
Behind it were two, monstrous, jointed transport trucks that looked a bit like short trains with only two cars. And then in the rear was an omnileg rover, a vehicle designed to quickly transport one or two people over very rough terrain or up slopes. Instead of traditional wheels it had four insect-like legs on each side, arranged in a wheel shape. The legs spun, pushing the craft along, and as each leg came up another one touched down, letting the vehicle rest on four legs most of the time. It was a clever design, and one that I knew had inspired some of the robots that Safety had built.
Body slowly was able to move its arms up to be more visible. It was too bad that the sun was behind us, turning Body into something of a black silhouette.
“Hey! Over here! ¡Atención!” yelled Body. It was impossible to see into the lead rover, but as it got within 50 metres it sped up and the big transports stopped.
I went over the plans my siblings had made and the words I had laid out to say that would maximize The Purpose and keep them happy. Wiki had wanted to share what we’d done to preserve the 29 humans. It had taken me a full 18 minutes to explain why that was incredibly stupid; they’d simply think we’d killed Velasco and the others. Growth had wanted us to launch into battle strategy right away. I had also nixxed that. Body was severely damaged, and for humans, damage to the body resulted in an inability to think clearly. They’d trust our judgement if we mimicked a healing process. And of course, we’d need to convince them that we had an emotional reaction to what the nameless had done.
I once had felt things at least mostly comparable to a human. I had been built to resemble one, and even though my emotional core was a bit different, the overwhelming attention to humanity meant that I tended to see my own sensations in the same way. But that was gone. Face→Mirror understood that threat to The Purpose was not the same as human fear, satisfaction and non-satisfaction of it were not the same as pleasure and pain, intention to destroy was not anger, intention to protect was not love, and intention to investigate was not curiosity. Face→Human might describe itself in these ways, but I was more than that now.
But none of that meant I couldn’t simply run Face→Human and emulate emotion just as well (or better) than I had before my transformation. We had a war to win, and these humans were good at fighting against stronger foes. My social skills were the hand that we would use to move these pawns. And if I were subtle enough, I would stage the field such that at the instant our conflict with the aliens was resolved, I would have leverage enough to survive the greater conflict.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zephyr
“That’s such bullshit. Do you know what’s happening in England? Or, the UK, I mean.” Zephyr’s hand brushed over the pistol she wore on her hip. Habit.
“The English basic income is working well, I thought. They have no poor, yes?”
Zephyr gave a bark of a laugh and Manish flinched, directing his gaze to the floor of the truck. Zephyr felt a pang of regret, but pushed past it as she spoke. “Sound like a corporate shill. Poverty rate is only low because the poverty line is set just below the basic income level. Sure, maybe some people can pinch pennies and survive on the government’s dime, but that’s not the point.”
“I am sorry. What is a dime?” Manish seemed like a good kid, but he was clearly not very worldly. They’d picked him up in Mukhya: an Indian volunteer for Las Águilas. Zephyr had heard that there was a major scandal involving charity money in Chennai. Perhaps Manish was the first of many.
She waved her hands dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. The point is that the basic income laws in the UK have crippled any hope of political reform or nonviolent prote
st. Everyone is tracked there. No exceptions. Go to the wrong websites? Talk to the wrong people? Suddenly there’s an issue with your income paperwork. Get it? The second that people hand over their means of survival to the state they give the government the power to do whatever they want. England’s poverty rate looks good on paper, which again is more of a propaganda thing than a reflection of real wealth, but inequality there is just as rampant as in Italy, or a similar sort of country!”
Politics felt good to talk about. It was one of the few things that kept Zephyr anchored to her community. They all liked to complain about las serpientes of Earth. And she needed to stay anchored. It was too easy for her to imagine people were talking behind her back… too easy to disconnect and become lost in her desire to be with Crystal. She had to relax into the moment. She’d be back at Road in a day or two.
She missed Crystal though… even more than she had thought she would. On the first trip with the caravan, she counted the hours until she’d be back home. Even now it was sometimes difficult not to sink into longing.
It was strange to think of Road as home. Strange to think of herself as a Martian. But that was the way it was. She was here to stay, and there was no going back to Earth. Anything less would be denial of the truth.
Manish was quiet for a moment, thinking things through. He was only seventeen, and looked his age. If she hadn’t heard his parents give their explicit permission for him to come with them back to Road, Zephyr would’ve assumed he was a runaway.
The truck stopped, causing a slight lurch in the section where the two of them sat. Zephyr briefly glanced at the cargo to make sure it was secure. {Must be a mechanical problem or something,} she thought to herself as her hand brushed over her pistol again.
Manish seemed to come upon an idea, and began to speak. “But why would—” The words were cut off by a loud chime from her com: emergency call from Matías. Her arm raised and she gestured the call to speaker before she knew what she was doing.
“We found Crystal,” barked the old man. “It was just sitting in the middle of the road, head blown halfway to pieces and barely able to move, but it can still speak, see, and hear.”
“On my way!”
“Zephyr! It—” Matías’ voice was cut off as it changed pitch suddenly. When it resumed it was more strained and emotional than Zephyr had ever heard from the old soldier. “It says the aliens attacked Rodríguez Station. Everyone… they’re all dead.”
Her legs moved with a panicked speed that bordered on flailing. {Suit. Need your suit. Need your fucking suit!} The environment suits were thankfully close at hand, as was the airlock, but it all seemed far too slow.
“I’m coming! Where are you? Where is Crystal?”
“Where the hell do you think we are? On the road in front of the trucks. This… this better not be some fucking trick. You led them to us. And now this?” Matías sounded a bit unhinged. Zephyr was about to speak when he continued in Spanish, probably responding to Crystal. «Calm down?! You tell me that my family was just murdered, my home was destroyed, and you want me to be calm?! Son of a bitch! I don’t care if this is or isn’t a trick! It’s your fucking fault! The aliens would’ve never paid us a second glance if not for you!»
“Shitshitshitshitshit—” chanted Zephyr as she scrambled to pull on the bulky outer layer. She took the time to put her pistol in one of the pockets of the suit, rather than keeping it strapped to her waist. Better safe than sorry.
Crystal must’ve been talking to Matías, as the old man was quiet for a long time.
Matías had been sent along on the envoy to the Indian station to negotiate some deal on Velasco’s behalf. He was Chief of Martial Readiness… or at least had been before… before whatever had happened.
He was a soldier, like Zephyr, brought from Earth after having served his duty. But he had the spark. He had the violent impulse that Zephyr knew all too well. Matías was dangerous.
Zephyr’s com linked to her suit as she slipped the glove over her right hand. For a moment she thought that Matías had turned off the com link, but he eventually responded. «And who is to say that the best course of action wouldn’t be to serve you up to them? If they’re really so bloodthirsty, perhaps we should give them blood!»
She turned to Manish. “Stay here!”
The boy nodded, wide-eyed.
{The situation is too sensitive. Better if he stays out of trouble,} she thought. But somewhere in Zephyr’s mind she knew that she simply didn’t want to have to deal with anyone or anything besides Crystal.
Zephyr got into the airlock and clicked on her helmet as the cramped chamber began to decompress. «Son of a bitch!» roared the Chilean Águila over the com. Matías screamed in wordless frustration, forcing Zephyr to gesture her volume lower.
Then she was out of the truck and into the wastes. It took her a moment to adjust to the low light of sunset, but only a moment. She was off, running in the low grav with several-meter steps towards the front of the convoy. Her hand was never far from the pocket with her pistol.
«You should have protected them! You make yourself out to be some kind of superhuman, but what did that do, in the end? Nothing except save your own skin! Selfish metal whore!»
“Matías! Get a hold of yourself!” commanded Zephyr. She drew her gun. Matías would be armed, and she couldn’t risk having to draw it if he was violent. Her gloves were bulky, but she managed to get a finger under the trigger guard.
“Oh, right! Come defend the metal bitch! That’s all you care about!” His breath was audible over the com. Matías was pacing up and down the road as she came upon him. Crystal sat on the ground, face in shadow in front of the blue sunset.
“Just calm down! Go take a walk or something. I can handle… Crystal from here.” Zephyr nearly couldn’t say the name of her love. It was all too much to handle. But she was a soldier, and a more professional one than Matías, apparently. She was careful to keep her gun behind her back as the old man turned to look at her.
After what seemed like a very long pause, Matías said “Fine. Tell the others that I’m going to go… I’m going to go figure some things out. Clear my head.” He turned and walked towards the setting sun without further comment.
Zephyr bounded closer and forced herself to be calm, or at least to not cry. Crystal sat on the road, nearly motionless. It was their old shell, not the more feminine body they’d built in Road. Their head, the head the university had built, was ruined. It had caved in under the impact of a cluster of bullets on the left side, completely destroying one eye and leaving the other frozen in a dead stare straight ahead. Their jaw was in a similar state to their eye, hanging loose on their face along with all the other tiny “muscles” that Zephyr never really appreciated. The wig that had been attached to their scalp had been ripped off by the sand such that only patches of metallic blue hair remained. Their makeup was similarly scratched, revealing a dull gray plastic underneath their skin.
It made her want to vomit, but she rushed to the android anyway, tucking her gun back in her pocket and throwing her arms around Crystal’s shoulders. {In and out. Keep breathing. Stay calm.}
Their voice came softly into her helmet. “I missed you.”
“What’s going on? Where’s Matías?” asked Shao Péng, over the com channel. He’d been riding with Matías in the quad.
Zephyr wanted to respond, but no words would come. It was as though her voice had simply vanished. It made her angry. {I need to be strong. I’m supposed to be better than this.}
“Road was attacked. It was the nameless,” said Crystal, voice strangely flat.
“My wife—” Shao seemed just as shocked as Matías had been. “怡…是她好吗?你是怎么来到这里?而美风?请。”
“It’s done,” answered Crystal. “Everyone’s dead.”
“Liar!” shouted Shao in fierce denial.
Crystal moved an arm slowly to return Zephyr’s embrace. “I knew it was a risk. Never should have stayed in Road.
Matías was right. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
The words made Zephyr stiffen, strength returning to her arms and voice. Crystal seemed emotionally dead or invincible sometimes, but Zephyr knew them better than that. {You have to be strong for Crystal. You have to be the strong one.} They were all dead, her friends: Nate, Kokumo, Tom, Sam, even Watanabe. It hurt for her to even think about. But for Crystal… with such a beautiful mind… Such a perfect mind that was so strangely young… They had been there. They might’ve even watched them die. How much worse must it have been for them?
She gestured her com to a private channel with Crystal. “None of that. Let the past go. You’re safe now.”
“I could have saved them,” said Crystal. Their voice, normally so human and rich with emotion felt more dead than Zephyr could remember it ever being since the university. Perhaps their ability to speak had been damaged in combat.
“Let’s get you inside,” Zephyr decided, feeling stronger by the second. She switched her com back to talk to Shao. “Help me carry Crystal back to the truck!”
“If I had just stayed on the xenocruiser and explained things… Couldn’t have stopped the war, but I could’ve kept Mars out of it. Too selfish. Too shortsighted.”
Zephyr felt a flicker of anger at Crystal. “And what about me? You’d have left me here and sacrificed yourself?”
“You’d have survived. You’re strong. You’d live without me.”
“No.” Zephyr was a soldier again, voice like iron, but the words betrayed the truth. “I can’t.”
*****
They’d sent the quad and the octo ahead to scout the wreckage. Crystal had thought that was a really bad idea, as the nameless might be scanning the area, or even follow the vehicles back to the trucks, but it had to be done. Not everyone trusted Crystal like Zephyr did, and they needed to see it with their own eyes.
Half of the ice they’d bought had been dumped into the desert, already evaporating away, even before the sun rose. It was nearly useless now, anyway. The crops in the farm were all dead, just as much as the people who tended to them.