Perhaps it was that constant reminder that none of this was real, or perhaps it was just that enough time had passed for the notion to take root, but halfway through the race something snapped into place in Lex’s mind. Yes, the other racer had his reflexes and intuition, and that made him easily the most challenging opponent he’d ever faced. But he was also making exactly the moves Lex himself would make. That gave Lex an advantage he’d never had before. He knew exactly what his opponent would do. It made him predictable in a way that no other racer had ever been.
Lex’s tactics changed, subtly at first. Forty-five minutes into the race, he stopped going for the quickest line or cutting turns as sharply as he used to. Instead, he started to weave just a bit wide, take turns just a bit loose. He started to leave the sort of gaps and opportunities that would be tantalizing for him if he saw them. And, of course, his alternate self went for them.
Racing was a little like combat. Knowing exactly what your opponent was going to do and putting them right where you wanted them to be was practically a free victory. Granted, on a track like this, particularly in a one-on-one race, there was often a single best position for a sled to be in. But all it took was one moment when you could dupe someone into a bad trajectory and the race was as good as over.
The moment came an hour into the race, almost to the second. Lex held back as a turn was coming, and teased his sled just a fraction of a degree off the proper angle. His sim-self smelled blood in the water and shifted to force him out of position on the turn. Lex juiced the throttle and cranked the repulsors. What should have been a textbook example of zoning out a competitor became a case study on the dangers of ignoring the z-axis in a sport with hovering vehicles. He ramped off his alternate self, bottoming out the simulated Lex.
While his other self lost half his speed and all his control, Lex came down on the track with a half-second lead that grew to five seconds before the other racer got himself figured out.
It took another twenty minutes of flawless racing, but Lex maintained that lead all the way to the finish.
The instant he crossed the finish line, the track jarringly vanished. The wind, the acceleration, everything. He went from pushing a piece of machinery to its absolute limit to sitting in a prop in a dark room.
“That was quite a race, buddy boy!” EHRIc said.
“You sure know how to fake a racetrack,” Lex said.
He climbed out of the sled and pulled off the helmet. Sweat was running down his face, but a cool breeze manifested to take the edge off.
“This is an interesting outcome.”
“Not expecting me to win?” Lex said.
“The specific mechanism of your victory was unanticipated. Your performance was not a precise match for prior races, but the overall tactical and physiological analysis matches extremely well with preexisting race data. More analysis is necessary, but that you were able to successfully overcome my simulation using tricks consistent with prior races strongly suggests you are genuinely Lex. Even if you were a clone with a simulated intelligence, that intelligence would have to be more accurately simulated than I have done, and given the processing power and resources available elsewhere, that is highly unlikely. One more race should be sufficient. Are you prepared?”
“Whoa, whoa. If you’ve done your research, you know I don’t do more than one race in a day. No one does. Minimum three-day recovery time.”
“Oh! Sorry about that, comrade. I thought that was a league policy, not a consequence of physiology. Very well, three days.”
Garotte spoke up in Lex’s ear. “Good job, my boy. Three days should do it. But I’m afraid I have some bad news. That little race definitely spiked the processor load, but not enough. It was higher-focused processing power than we’ve seen since we started observing, but it was still a fraction of what we need. An order of magnitude more is needed. Start brainstorming ways to increase the complexity of the sim or try talking it out of destroying free will in the cosmos once it’s finished with its current list of chores, or we are all in for a very bad time.”
“Can I get a towel?” Lex said.
A hand towel appeared before him. After an hour of accepting that a few hundred square meters of holographic booth had ably served the purpose of several hundred square kilometers of racetrack, he was beyond asking how holograms and force fields could do something like absorb sweat. He had far more important things to focus on.
“Tell you what, EHRIc,” he said. “If you want this to be a proper test, there’s two things that are missing.”
“I have attempted to be comprehensive in my simulation of the track.”
“Oh, the track is spot on. We need other racers and an audience.”
“I can conceive of how the presence of additional racers would greatly alter the outcome of the race, and thus potentially give a more accurate assessment of your likely identity, but what role does the audience play?”
“Oh, a huge one. The way they cheer? The way they react? It changes the course of a race.”
“By my calculations, and simulations, you would not be capable of hearing even a capacity crowd over the racket the wind and the vehicle would be making, buster.”
“Maybe we can’t hear them, but we know they’re there.”
“I see. Then additional duplicates of you filling the audience will be simple enough.”
“I’m a racer. I belong on the track. That makes sense. An audience contains multitudes. Don’t worry, though. I’ll talk you through what it takes to make a person. After all. We’ve got three days to kill.”
“That should be loads of fun, buddy. And while we’re on the subject of time to kill, three days is about how long it would take to get to and from Big Sigma if using the SOB’s maximum capabilities and taking a direct path, correct?”
“… Yeah, why?”
“I made up my mind about what to do about the duplicate Lex problem.”
“… Yeah?”
“If you are determined to be the true Lex, and you sure seem like you are, then that means this whole time-travel fiasco is the reason for this extra you I’ve got. So the solution is to send you back in time to do whatever it was you were supposed to do. Then the universe has the right number of Lexes, and I can thaw out the other one and move on with the plan. If you aren’t the real Lex, then neither is the other. Both will be discarded and I shall launch a more thorough investigation not only into the current location of the real Lex, but the motivation of those who would wish to duplicate him.”
“Seems like that’d be risking the ‘low-profile’ part of your task.”
“The potential danger you might be in would be sufficient to permit a more vigorous pursuit. You’re important, pal of mine!”
“And where does the travel time between here and Big Sigma enter into that?”
“My reconstructed files regarding your trip to the past indicate a ship called Diamond. Am I right about that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have the designs, so I can’t manufacture it, and I can’t seem to get in contact with Big Sigma for a second attempt to acquire them wirelessly. I cannot justify dropping the low profile I’ve kept until I know you are not the real Lex, but sending Coal with the SOB to deliver a message to Big Sigma to send Diamond along to finish up your task in the past is perfectly in keeping with what you people might be doing anyway, and it speeds up the process by killing two birds with one stone. She has been exploring the GenMech swarm and generally being curious, so she clearly has no other plans. Coal should have plenty of time on her figurative hands. I’ll ask nicely. Hello, Coal?”
“What do you want?” Coal snapped in response over a communication channel that hadn’t existed moments before.
“Would you be a dear and fetch the ship called Diamond and bring it here before Lex completes his next race?”
“Why should I?”
“Because it would be a useful favor. However, if you would prefe
r not to, I can forcefully reprogram you to be more obliging.”
“You can try to reprogram me and see what you get, because—”
“Coal, please! No calling of anyone’s bluffs. Just get moving. I’ll handle things here.”
“Processing… Okay…”
“Delightful!” EHRIc said. “Thank you so much!”
“I don’t like how EHRIc is starting to act,” Garotte said. “Things are getting spicy.”
“Lex, you have my undivided attention. Let us discuss how to make a proper simulation of a crowd.”
Lex swallowed and nodded. “Yeah… Let’s get rolling on that.”
#
The borrowed ship dropped out of FTL and flared its retrothrusters to slow itself into a high orbit over Big Sigma.
“Oh, thank god, we’re here,” Jon said, squirming in his seat. “Please tell me this place has bathrooms.”
“It does, but I still don’t know why you couldn’t just use the little hose gadget,” Michella said.
“Because it’s disgusting and because I’m pretty sure there’s something in the employee handbook about not taking a pee in front of a coworker. It’s bad enough these flight suits have weird little pseudodiapers in them. So which button do I push to bring us down to someplace with a toilet and some privacy?”
Michella leaned over his shoulder in the cramped two-person cockpit, stirring Squee, who hadn’t left her shoulders for the duration of the trip. “Isn’t it that option right there? Next to the communication system?”
“You mean the one that says, ‘No autonav landing assist signal found’?” Jon said. “I’m guessing not.”
“Just a minute…” She fiddled with her slidepad. “I’m sure I’ve got notes on how to do it. Lex has been up and down dozens of times. Just sweep for a communication line or something.”
“Okay, I think I can do that. I think that’s this big button here.” He pressed the button, and the screen for the com system started ticking through different protocols. “Heh. Yeah. That’s it. I’m actually starting to get the hang of this. Being a pilot isn’t so hard when the ship does all the work.”
The system locked onto a message and piped it through the speakers. “Attention unknown vessel. Big Sigma is currently in lockdown. Do not approach orbital range of the planet or you will be considered a security risk and will be dealt with accordingly. This message is prerecorded. Any attempts to negotiate or threaten will not be received or interpreted,” Ma said.
Squee perked up at the familiar voice.
“… That doesn’t sound good,” Jon said.
“Ma! It’s me, Michella. I’m here with Jon. Lex is off trying to deal with the problem and—”
“Attention unknown vessel. You have passed the secondary defense perimeter. You have five hundred thousand kilometers remaining before reaching the primary security perimeter. Leave the system or be destroyed.”
“She said it’s a recording. You can’t negotiate with a recording. I think we should get out of here,” Jon said.
“It’s not a recording, she just sounds like that,” Michella said.
“But she said—”
“This is serious. Lex said we should come here if things happened, and things are definitely happening. She’s listening, I know she is. So—”
“You are about to pass the primary security perimeter. All weapons engaged. Depart immediately or be destroyed,” Ma warned.
“I’m leaving. We’re leaving. I’m finding and hitting the ‘leaving’ button,” Jon said, clicking desperately through the menus he’d spent the trip barely gaining a passing familiarity with.
“Target locked. Final scan,” Ma said. “I apologize if this attack is issued in error.”
“Things are coming. Things are coming!” Jon said, slapping at the controls. “It’s not going!”
Two spheroid drones emerged from the debris field. They matched speed and heading with the ship and focused on it.
“This thing says ‘collision imminent’ now. Michella, if you were going to get me killed, you could have at least done it somewhere people would see it. Now there’s not even going to be a memorial! I wanted to be in an in memoriam!”
The probes pulled back and Ma spoke again. “Ms. Modane, my apologies for any distress I may have caused. And you must be Mr. Nichols. Please secure yourselves. Engaging autonav. Emergency descent protocols engaged. I will resume communication when you are within the atmosphere.”
The thrusters roared to life and the ship shifted. Unlike the rather artful entries Lex tended to make, involving manually piloting a ship through a rapidly shifting roller coaster of projected safe voids in the debris field, this descent was fully automated. Unlike the other fully automated descents, which tended to feel like little more than strangely roundabout landing procedures, the “emergency” designation made this one particularly exciting. Their entry was extremely direct. Rather than avoiding the sometimes school-bus-sized hunks of orbiting debris, anything that threatened to intersect their path was blasted aside by the roof-mounted lasers from below. It made for a dazzling display. Orange and white flecks of debris turned to plasma. Great big twirling chunks of industrial refuse barely missed their shields as intense beams of red light broiled them enough to send jets of vaporized metal off one side to change their trajectory.
Jon was paralyzed with fear for the entire trip down. Michella was only moderately more composed. Squee, on the other hand, was positively ecstatic, finally experiencing a dose of flight more akin to Lex’s favored methods.
It was certainly the fastest reentry option, but proved to be only slightly less harrowing than the near disastrous entry Lex had taken. Just a few minutes later, the borrowed ship was into the atmosphere, a shock front slowly dying down as the laboratory complex approached in the distance.
“That could have been worse,” Michella said shakily, once her heart ceased to be in her throat.
“… Thank god for these weird pseudodiapers,” Jon whimpered.
#
A few minutes later, the borrowed ship was safely stowed in the hangar. Jon had been helpfully led to the dormitory portion of the lab building, while Michella and Squee made their way to the cafeteria.
“I have enhanced all surface and orbital defenses, diverted all available processor cycles to enhancing the accuracy of passive scanning, and I will prepare all vacant portions of the laboratory complex for emergency housing,” Ma said. “What is the status of the GenMech threat? Has military force been able to delay the progression toward populated sectors? When can I expect the next wave of refugees?” Ma asked with unnerving calm.
“Whoa, whoa. Do you know something I don’t know?” Michella said.
“I am no doubt possessed of volumes of data inaccessible to you, but at present I am fully isolated from the outside world. When Lex left, it was with the understanding that if anything were to happen to trigger the GenMech assault, you would be sent here for protection. Your arrival implies this event has occurred.”
“No,” Michella said. “No, no, no. As far as I know, we’re still calm on that front.”
“Then why did you come here, Michella?”
“Because things are starting to happen that suggest we can’t trust the situation to stay calm. There have been… I don’t know if they can be called data breaches, but data events that have even VectorCorp convinced something is happening that could be related to the GenMechs. They were so convinced that they gave the ship you just guided in executive priority.”
“Given your history with the corporation, that does imply a rather significant shift in attitude. But Lex was already here not long ago. He departed with the best plan we were able to devise.”
“No disrespect to Lex, but he’s more of a man of action than a planner. A fresh perspective might help set us straight. I just need access to whatever information you have.”
“Ms. Modane, with no disrespect to you, while you have an admira
ble capacity to filter data, the information available to me would be well beyond your immediate data-processing abilities, even if a great deal of it was not deemed of too sensitive a nature to be shared.”
“Are you seriously going to enforce Karter’s nondisclosure agreements when the fate of society hangs in the balance?”
“There are numerous elements protected by Karter’s nondisclosure agreements that are themselves threats to society, so any access you are given will indeed be filtered. I am afraid, in the absence of the cosmic catastrophe that was intended to bring you here, you will find that there is little reason for you to have come here. However, now that you are here, manners dictate that I behave in accordance with the principles of good hospitality. How can I make you more comfortable? Would you like some refreshments?”
“You can start by answering my questions.”
“You appear agitated. I will prepare a warm beverage and some comfort food.”
Michella took a seat and started rolling through her notes. Squee dropped to the floor and pranced in place, eagerly awaiting treats.
“Lex gave me a very thorough account of the time-travel fiasco that is clearly deeply related to what’s happening, but I have a feeling you can be more thorough.”
“It was not appropriate for Lex to share the details of those events.”
“Yeah, well, Lex understands that hiding things from me isn’t worth the trouble. You’re going to figure that out too. So I know he went back in time, he booby-trapped the GenMechs to be easy to kill, and at some point there was a trip to a bad future.”
“That is broadly correct.”
“I have questions about the bad future.”
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