“Three pub crawls, I think. We should stay spread out.”
“A little late for that Bill,” I gestured at the table with the four of us seated around it.
Bill made a gesture of helplessness. “The steak… it called the to us.”
I grinned and sopped up the last of my meal with a piece of bread.
We met back in our hotel room at the end of the day, having been very careful to come in one at a time.
“Anyone get anything?” I said, starting the discussion.
Twin head shakes from Bill and Gar confirm my fears. The pub crawls a been a bust. “I’ve heard more than I'll ever need to about day-to-day Quinlan life, but the Skeev thing may have been a fluke.”
“Or this town is just too unimportant to have a Resistance presence,” Garfield added.
“Well I made some progress on background,” Bridget said. “Sort of. It's heavily mythologized. According to their origin story, they originally lived in a land called Quinn that had no boundaries, but a finite amount of space. The Quinlans overpopulated it and began fighting over the land, so Annek - some kind of God, I think - changed the world to one with boundaries but infinite land to end the fighting. But the Quinlans had gotten into the habit of fighting, so he took away their weapons and their wisdom and Scattered them.”
“Nice,” Bill said. “Finite but unbounded describes a sphere. I don't think the description of the topopolis is right, but they may not have fully explored it yet, lengthwise.”
“A billion miles,” I shook my head. “Not really a surprise.”
“Very interesting,” Garfield said, “but it still doesn't explain the backward technological level of the inhabitants. Do you think it was voluntary? Or maybe voluntary like my-way-or-the-highway voluntary?”
Bridget paused and gave Garfield a shrug. “That part still isn't clear. I need to spend more quality time in the library. Talking to people works, up to a point, but if you appear too ignorant of common knowledge, they start to get suspicious.”
“Actually suspicious?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t ask, obviously. But maybe they think you're either Administration and checking on the knowledge, or you’re a government operative trying to check on loyalty or attitude.”
“Or both,” I said. “We don't know the extent to which the Administrator operates as a level of government.”
Bridget nodded. “I noticed, too. My research isn't clear on a lot of details, but I'm sure the Quinlans have been living like this for hundreds of years. The Administrator, as the person or group is called, maintains order by Scattering any group that breaks the rules, like attempting to circumvent the tech limits, but otherwise seems to maintain a hands-off policy.”
“The existence of a Resistance would make me think the Administration is at least partly hands-on.”
I tapped my chin and thought. “What about Administration staff? Are they known? Do they have offices?”
“Understand, a lot of this is inferred from reading between the lines, so everything I say comes with a large dollop of uncertainty. But no, they're not an official part of the hierarchy. They are generally referred to as ‘Crew’. It's not clear whether they live somewhere else or are just part of the population, which leads me to believe it might be both. Hard muscle for the in-country work, and full-time Crew somewhere else.”
“Well it's a pretty good analysis, Bridget.” Bill said. “So with the group that just wanted to bump off Skeev, we now have three factions. Administration plus Crew, Resistance, and locals who don't want anything to do with either one.”
“The business in Galen makes more sense now.”
We discussed strategy the next morning. First Stop didn't have any other libraries, as it turned out. Bridget grumbled and made faces, but we recognize that it was to be expected. It wasn’t a small town, but it did appear to be a backwater. Bridget, not surprisingly, wanted to head out immediately. We asked around and determined that the biggest closest town was Three Lagoons. It was located on the next river system south of us, The Utopia, at the mouth of the connecting tributary. I immediately voted to head there, as it would give me a chance to examine how Heaven's River handled the connection between two rivers heading in opposite directions.
“We really have to stop pre-paying our room rentals,” Bill complained. “At least until we know how long will be staying. I think we've overpaid about a month’s worth already.”
Garfield made a head motioned toward Bill. “The accountant has spoken.”
Bill showed Gar his teeth, but didn't reply.
For a change, we’d be leaving town in a dignified and completely unexceptional manner. Not even any looking-in-carts jokes. We marched to the docks, jumped in the water, and per directions from the locals, swam determinedly for the south side of the river. Once we were close enough, we formed into a Quinlan raft and let the current take us. It would be 12 miles or so before we'd reach the tributary, known locally as The Gronk, which would take us to the main river to the south: the Utopia.
Meanwhile, it was a good opportunity to get some sun and do a little thinking. The others apparently felt the same, as there is no attempt to start any kind of discussion. As one, we tilted our heads back and worked on our under-beak tans.
After some indefinite but comfortable amount of time, Bill said “We’ve got company.”
Three heads jerked up and swiveled. The company though turned out to be a hound-driven riverboat, which was gradually closing in on us. We could tell immediately from their heading and relaxed pace that they were simply traveling to the same destination as us, rather than actively trying to intercept.
Garfield glared at Bill. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic. I almost had a coronary.”
Bill managed an injured innocence look. “What? All I said was that we have company. The coronary is your fault. You have a guilty conscience.”
Garfield responded with a dismissive “pfft”, but the statement was technically true, and Bill would just that it had anything to do with the earlier accountant comment anyway.
As the boat came closer, we were able to get a good look. It was a cargo hauler with very little in the way of passenger accommodations. Some Quinlans had obvious duties, and a few were hustling around, but there is another group of four just sitting on the deck, relaxing.
One of the crew waved at us and called out, “If you're taking the Gronk, we’ll give you a lift for a copper each. Got another set of sabbatarians here already!” He motioned to the group that was sunning themselves.
Bridget said, “Can’t hurt, and we might pick up something. And the ride is supposed to be a little rough.”
Without further discussion, we broke up, submerged briefly, and pooted onto the deck. The deck hand held out a paw, and I dropped four Quinlan coins into it. We ambled along to the other group, which moved over to give us some deck space.
“Planning on heading east?” the deckhand asked, walking with us.
“Going to Three Lagoons,” I replied. “We haven't planned past that point. Bridget here wants to visit their library.”
“Ah. A seeker.” The Quinlan made a gesture that translated as mildly dismissive. “There's fewer of them every year, seems to me. Most of you youngsters seem to be content to just float until you find a place to settle.”
“Isn't that the point?” a member of the other group said.
“Maybe. But we used to be more.” The deck and gave the other Quinlan a hard look and stalked off. I glanced from the retreating back to the speaker.
The seated Quinlan grinned up at me. “Oldsters are determined to pine for our lost destiny, but this is a good life. What's the point?”
“You mean Quinn?” Bridget asked.
He nodded in reply. “I’m Kar, by the way. This is Malin, Atik, and Tee.” This produced a brief flurry of introductions before Kar continued on what sounded like a speech he had made many times before.
“I have literally never met anyone who was Scattered. Know
why? Because most people aren't idiots. From what I learned in school, this is paradise.”
“Or a zoo,” Tee interjected.
“With no gawkers, Tee. I think you need a better metaphor. Meanwhile, there's lots of fish. The weather is predictable. The water is clean. And other than the occasional border dispute, there's no war. As fates go, it doesn't suck.”
This was definitely looking like a well-worn argument, and I was prepared to just sit back and listen, but Bridget wasn't going to be so passive.
“What about the Resistance?”
Kar laughed. Even Tee did a Quinlan eye-roll.
“Oldsters playing at warrior,” Kar said. “There’s nothing to resist. Crew barely exist, not that you'd notice, and if there is a Scattering, not that I have any personal knowledge, mind you, you just wake up and it's done.” He made a negating motion with his hand. “What are they fighting for, anyway? Chase fish, bask in the sun, swim until you're tired, sleep. That's all you need.”
“This guy’s a hippie…” Bill said over the intercom. Than to Kar: “Except for the part about making a family and children.”
“Sure, but do we need towns for even that?” Kar swept his eyes over his audience. “Everything in town is stuff you can get for free. Or stuff you only need because townies say you have to have it. We could get rid of tyrants entirely, and no one would suffer.”
“It would make it pretty hard for us to trade our goods.”
We looked up. It was the same deckhand, come around again in his cycle of chores.
“Slightly different things from upriver or downriver that people want only because they been told it's desirable or better.” Kar was warming to his subject, and still seemed to be in a well-worn groove. I watched his friends as he in the deckhand traded barbs. They didn’t seem surprised or especially concerned about his comments. If anything, their expressions indicated agreement, to the extent they cared at all. The argument soon died down, as the deckhand wasn't being paid to stand around - a fact made loudly clear by someone who was probably the captain. He moved off to his next assignment, and Kar laid back to catch some rays.
“That's interesting,” Bridget said over the intercom as we closed our eyes and pretended to doze. “And not entirely unexpected. Civilization and technology are methods of controlling the environment to increase your chances of survival, but what if you’re so well adapted that you don't need civilization at all? Or don't need it anymore?”
“Heaven's River is idyllic,” Bill replied. “Are you saying it's perhaps too much so?”
“Yes. The Quinlans were probably well adapted to their environment on Quinn. And this environment was designed with their preferences in mind, so it's even more idea. So there really isn't any kind of selection pressure anymore.”
“And you think this is deliberate?”
“I don’t know, Bill. I don't think so. The problem is that if it continues, the Quinlans could lose their remaining knowledge, then their culture, then ultimately their intelligence.”
“Excuse me?” I said, aghast.
“Brains are expensive, Bob. They are for humans, and they are for Pav, and they are for Quinlans. 20 to 25% of daily calories go to keeping us cogitating. Now, assume a Quinlan comes along with a smaller brain maybe only needing 15%? That Quinlan has an advantage in reproduction, and keeping itself fed, and so on. Without any reason to privilege intelligent Quinlans, the new breed could take over within a dozen generations. Let that kinda stepwise mutation happened a few times, and the Quinlan race would be just another set of animals.”
“The Administrator cannot have had that in mind.”
“I agree, which is why I think it's probably an unintended consequence. And possibly one that hasn't occurred to anyone yet.”
Dammit. I was here to get Bender, that was all. But could I just walk away from this? Would end up being ‘The Bob’ all over again?
As the old Pacinoism goes, the more I try to get out, the more they keep pulling me in.
26. Tensions Rise
Bill
July 2334
Virt
We’d left the Mannies napping so we could get some work done in virt. The AMI would alert me of something required my attention. Meanwhile, I had a backlog of items that had accumulated.
I reviewed the list in front of me and frowned. The data window should times and places of attempted logins to SCUT relay stations and autofactories. In every case, the login ID used in the attempt had been the old common ID used in all equipment, back when all the Bobs were on the same page.
Garfield had been reading over my shoulder. “I suppose it's mathematically possible it could be someone other than Starfleet.”
“It's mathematically possible you might spontaneously burst into flames,” I replied, turning to them. “I'm not betting on it though.”
“Well, we’re in virt, but I get the point.” Garfield walked over to his La-Z-Boy, picked up Spike, and sat down with the cat in his lap. “So, Starfleet is trying something.”
“Where something is undefined, but probably not good.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Already done it, Gar. I’ve accessed every single piece of equipment in the Bobiverse, tested the logins, and changed them. I've sent encrypted emails to the putative owners with instructions to change the logins again themselves. And not to share those credentials.”
“Bill, what if Starfleet escalates?”
“Escalates how? Sends a war fleet?
“Um, well, if they did, we wouldn't be able to defend against it. They know as well as we do how we detected the Others’ fleet.”
“And they won’t make that mistake, except they won't send a fleet. Where they send it here? Eta Leporos? Omicron2 Eridani? Even if they were inclined to violence, this isn't about real estate or an entrenched foe. It's about political stances, and both sides of the argument are pretty spread out, physically.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I just have this bad feeling. They're not going to just throw their hands in the air, so they'll be looking for ways to enforce their point of view.”
“Like?”
Garfield sighed. “I’d feel a lot better if I could come up with even one half-plausible scenario, but other than the vague conviction that they'll do something, I'm coming up blank.”
I glanced at my data window one last time and closed it. “I talked to a couple of my bio-government contacts,” I said, turning back to Garfield. “They’ll bring it up with their bosses, they say, but I don't think anyone is taking me seriously. This is a VR problem, after all, and the problem with VR problems is it's hard to see how they relate to the real world.”
Garfield grinned. “If you die in virt, you die in real.”
“Horse pucky,” I laughed. “The Gamers die the time. Sometimes several times in one session.”
“You visited them, didn't you.”
“Yeah, Gar, as part of the negotiations for the Heaven's River project, they let me tag along and one in their LARPs. They go for the full meal deal, you know.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Full VR, fully armed and armored characters, total battle realism. They have a limiter on pain reception, just like we do with the Mannies, but basically, they can and do get stabbed, speared, slashed, burned, blown up, disintegrated, fireballed, electrocuted, drowned, eaten, and whatever other fates D&D and its spiritual descendants have come up with.”
Garfield grinned. “Nevertheless, I can see the attraction.”
“Sure. And in whatever Bob or Bob's bread the Gamers, that attraction became an obsession.” I paused. “The thing is, and this is the reason I brought them up, the Gamers aren't really opposed to Starfleet's attitude. I mean, about breaking contact with bios. They don't have a moral issue, they just see bios as a distraction.”
“Like the Skippies.”
“Yeah. It worries me a little. Could we end up being the minority viewpoint?”
“Maybe we should make ourselves a poorer target,” Garfield re
plied. “And move the moot and backup station.”
“Already done, Gar. Ultima Thule is now so far outside Epsilon Eridani that an expanding search would take centuries to find it.”
It occurred to me that even if I haven't published the location, I've done several cloning's since I built it, and some of my clones have cloned, so there are at minimum, dozens of Bobs who know where it is. Was.
Garfield hung his head. “I hate this.”
“Me too, buddy. It would appear that utopia is an unstable state.”
Garfield nodded, looking glum and popped out
Sighing I brought up my next TO-DO.
27. Just Passing Through
Bob
July 2334
Utopia River
Bridget spent some time walking around, talking to the crew. I knew she was trying to get sociological data, so I left her to it. I was more interested in the changeover to the Utopia River. I asked Malin about it, and she just turned and glanced at Kar. Apparently, he was either the official spokes-critter for this group, or the only one who had the energy to talk.
“We’ve switched rivers a couple of times,” Kar said. “It's a little rough in the middle part of the connector, which is why we like to hop on a boat, but you could go out on your own, if you had to.”
“Do you know why?” I said this as innocently as I could, but I was really interested in Kar’s level of knowledge.
He shrugged in response. “It's the way the world is. It’s how the Administrator made it. We don't question or judge.”
How the Administrator made it? That sounded an awful lot like a religious statement. Were Quinlan starting to think of the Administrator as a deity?
Bridget came back to our group and lay down. “We’re is centering the Gronk tributary now. That spit of land,” she pointed downstream, “is where it splits from the Arcadia. It does a half circle and dumps us out going downstream on the Utopia. Three Lagoons is on the far shore, so we’ll have to jump ship and start swimming right away.”
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