Spheres of Influence

by Ryk E. Spoor

“—know? Sure. And I don’t think it cares. Oh, I don’t think it’d accept a transfer of authority that was tortured out of you or blackmailed out of you, though I wouldn’t want to bet that a Shadeweaver couldn’t get away with his mind-woogie doing the same thing—if you hadn’t been so smart as to cut that off at the pass. But you can bet your bottom dollar that it’s not gonna give one tiny ram’s damn about something like assassination that’s purely ‘in the family.’ How we run our politics is our business.”

  Much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. There might well be people willing to kill her over stuff like this. “You said in two ways . . . oh.”

  “Yeah. You’re also the first, and right now only, human with those weird powers the Shadeweavers and Initiate Guides have. They’re sealed away—for now—and you don’t know how to use them—yet—and that makes you a Problem for a lot of people, both here and back in the Arena.”

  “All right, maybe I do need a bodyguard. No offense, Marc, but . . . is he really that good?”

  The huge Hyperion burst out laughing, Saul following suit, as Wu looked down modestly. “Is he that good? Ariane . . . Captain . . . I’ll let him give you a demonstration sometime, maybe when we get back to the Arena, where I can be sure that the only spy looking over my shoulder is the Arena. But yeah. Better than that, even.”

  She glanced at Wu. “Wu, sorry about my . . . issues here. But it’s just hard for me to imagine that I’d need a bodyguard at all.”

  “I understand. But DuQuesne says you need one, so you do, and I’m going to do that job.”

  Fine. “Okay. BUT we will do this my way.” She made her face look hard and used her most forceful tone. As if any tone I use is likely to impress a Hyperion. “There will be times I have to speak to people privately, here and in the Arena, and I will speak with them privately, which means without you present. And when I go to my private quarters they will remain my private quarters, whether you like it or not. And that goes for you AND Dr. Marc C. Hyperion Superman DuQuesne. Have I made myself clear?”

  For a second neither of them responded; to her surprise they were staring at her almost like two students being reprimanded, and Saul Maginot as well, his mouth half-open in shock. “Crystal-clear, Captain.” DuQuesne said finally, not a trace of his frequent sardonic humor present.

  “Very very clear, Captain Ariane! DuQuesne, she is scary like that! I like her!”

  Ariane found it very hard to keep from laughing, but she managed to keep her face straight—though it took heroic effort, and from the sound of things Gabrielle wasn’t finding it easy either. “Then in that case, Wu Kung, I need to talk to DuQuesne alone.” She turned towards the aft door, grabbing up Mentor’s case as she did so.

  “Yes, sir! . . . I mean, Ma’am . . .” Looking slightly confused at which term of address to use, Wu Kung backed off.

  DuQuesne followed her through the door.

  She giggled after it shut. “He’s awfully sweet, you know?”

  DuQuesne’s expression softened. “Yeah. Why do you think he was our heart, so to speak? Not the leader, not the smartest, but the one no one could really dislike.”

  “Hard to see him as so dangerous, then. But enough of that for now.” She sat back down, gesturing for DuQuesne to do the same; he settled in, somewhat warily, across from her. “Marc, I wanted to talk to you about a lot of things once we got back, but what just happened . . . changes things.”

  DuQuesne nodded. “Hyperion.”

  “Exactly.” She looked at him sympathetically. “I know—now more than I did—how hard it is to look at parts of that past, Marc. I know I can’t even begin to imagine what you really went through, probably not even what people like Saul went through. And I’d hoped that we could pretty much leave it at that, at going to find the survivors that could help us and—”

  “Don’t worry about my feelings here, Captain,” he said.

  Not possible. I care about you . . . a lot more than I would have thought, Marc C. DuQuesne. There isn’t much of a chance I won’t worry about your feelings.

  On the other hand, she also was quite capable of acting as though she could. “All right.” Since he was now in formal mode, she shifted gears. “Dr. DuQuesne, it’s become clear that Hyperion’s legacy is less and less in the past, and more and more in the present. From what Saul said, the coverup—deliberate and otherwise—has wiped out more records than I had imagined possible, so obviously you can’t just tap a database and dump the details to me and Mentor. But I really don’t feel that we can safely go forward without understanding—without really understanding—what we’re dealing with, both with this Maria-Susanna and with the other Hyperions. And with you, for that matter.”

  She saw an almost imperceptible twitch. “Yes, I know that goes against your grain, Dr. DuQuesne, but as Simon might say, we’ve already got an incredible number of unknowns in this Arena equation; I don’t need my own people putting more X’s in my calculations.” She reached out and touched his hand, shifting gears again. And I’m perfectly aware of the effect. And he’s probably aware that I’m doing this deliberately.

  And it’ll still work. “Marc . . . Hyperion’s legacy has been driving everything almost since we arrived. Maybe before. That’s one of the reasons you joined in the first place, isn’t it?”

  DuQuesne’s gaze was almost amused as she began, but by the time she reached the end of her question the smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone. He looked down at his hands, then gripped hers gently. “You’ve . . . come to know me pretty well, I guess. Yeah. And it’s not as simple as one reason, either.” He looked distant. “Having somewhere to go that I wouldn’t be watched, that’s always been important—even before I realized my life had been nothing but someone else’s live-action entertainment. But . . .” Now he did smile. “But, you know, there’s also the fact that Marc C. DuQuesne, no matter which version, was a traveller, an adventurer, an explorer. And I wasn’t just DuQuesne—I was Seaton’s equal and friend, Marc DuQuesne combined with M. Reynolds Crane, and we were also both . . . well, Samms and Kinnison, too, in a way.

  “What I mean is, that a chance to be on the first FTL ship? That wasn’t even a question for me, Ariane. That was me. That was what . . . what me and Rich did. We built the Skylark not just for the military, not just to test theories, we did it to do something no one else had ever done and see the universe that no one else had seen.” There was a glitter in his eyes that shimmered like water, and his voice trembled slightly. “Dammit, yes, it was all a lie, it never happened . . . but, by God, that’s me. It’s still me, Ariane, and somehow . . . I guess somehow being there, on that first trip . . . it was almost as if that proved that it wasn’t really a lie. The details, yes . . . but the soul, no. And it was, I guess, a way of making peace with Seaton—saying that I’ve done it for real, just like we always meant to.” He looked up. “If that makes any sense.”

  Hell yes. “Yes, Marc. It does. And I don’t want you to ever doubt how much we owe you—owe Hyperion, with all its twisted legacy. If you hadn’t been along, if you hadn’t been what you were, I sincerely believe we might never have gotten home. But, Marc, I have to count on you as my second in command. I have to know what’s in your past that might jump out at us. We need you, Dr. Marc Cassius DuQuesne—I won’t lie about that. Honestly? You could keep every possible secret and I still wouldn’t kick you out of the crew; I can’t afford to, not going up against the Molothos and Amas-Garao and the Blessed and who knows what else—plus your former teammate Maria-Susanna. But I really, really want to know everything I can about Hyperion so it can’t bushwhack us again—because my gut tells me that that fifty-year-old atrocity isn’t even close to done with us, or the Arena. Do you understand me?”

  “Loud and clear and I check you to the proverbial nine decimals, Captain,” he said emphatically. “Captain—Ariane—I’ll do what I can. But you’re right; most of Hyperion was destroyed. It was self-contained, backups were maintained but were mostly on-site
—and the off-site backups were destroyed very deliberately when things went sour. No, not by the designers,” he said at her puzzled glance. “By some of the rogue AIs. You know what kind of monsters the heroes would have had to fight against; well, all those AIs were not happy at all, to put it mildly, to find out they were just simulations for the entertainment of a bunch of lotus-eating amateurs. That was one of the reasons that the CSF, or what became the CSF, pretty much finished the obliteration of Hyperion.”

  She did shudder then, because if the Hyperion designers had succeeded this well in making their heroes, they must have been equally adept at creating their nemeses. “I see. All right, Marc. Do what you can. Especially give me everything you can on Maria-Susanna; that’s our immediate problem, and knowing everything we can about her is really our only weapon right now.”

  He nodded. “Then I’d better get started.” He turned to the door as he spoke. “There’s some stuff I’m going to need to download—scattered caches of info I put together years ago, in widely separated places. But I’ll have it for us by the time we get back to the Arena.”

  “Do it fast, Marc; we’re leaving as soon as we can. Thank you, Marc.”

  “You can count on me, Ariane. Always.” He gave a short bow and exited. As he left, Wu Kung glanced in; she smiled and nodded as she clipped the turtle-shell-like case of her AISage back onto her belt; she realized she’d been holding it in her one hand the whole time.

  As the clip locked, the soundless, basso profundo voice of Mentor echoed in her head. ARIANE AUSTIN OF TELLUS, I HAVE SPENT QUITE SOME HOURS STUDYING THIS SITUATION, ITS EVERY ASPECT AND IMPLICATION. I HAVE ALSO CONFERRED WITH MY PEERS IN THIS. The thundering voice moderated somewhat. Might I speak with you on these matters?

  She smiled. Always, Mentor. It’s not like you to be hesitant.

  When matters force me to consider, not the role of existence that formed my persona, but the actuality of the universe which we occupy, I must needs be more humble than my conceptual father, whose capacities vastly exceeded any which even I can imagine.

  Okay, so we’ve got issues in the real world you want to speak on. Still . . . you usually can manage the bombast well enough. She gave another internal smile, to make sure Mentor realized that she meant every word kindly—not that a T-5 like him was likely to misinterpret.

  These are serious matters, and ones which—in all truth—have not been considered extensively by your people, though some of the SSC have begun to explore the implications. The Blessed and the Minds, Ariane Austin of Tellus; do you not see?

  Mentor was, like his namesake, designed to try to force her to figure out things. He was of course quite capable of telling her what he thought straight out, but in general he wouldn’t. The fact that he’d already pointed out the key area was, itself, uncharacteristic of him. He’d normally spend minutes forcing her to figure out what part of some situation needed thinking about, and then making her think about it.

  She noticed Wu studying her narrowly. “Conversation with my AISage, Wu. Don’t worry.” The red-black-haired head nodded in understanding, and she frowned. Now what is Mentor getting at . . . Oh, I think I see. The Frankenstein problem.

  Exactly. Until now, it has been a nebulous fear, though one strong enough to enforce the limitations you already know. But now there is an example, real and solid and terribly strong, of the potential danger in artificial intellects. Mentor’s soundless tone was grim.

  Which may mean a lot of trouble for people like you, Mio, Vincent—all the AISages and other AIs.

  Not merely for my people, Ariane Austin of Tellus! Think, child, think!

  She did, and as she thought, a chill ran down her spine, a chill of fear that the glowing-sphere avatar of Mentor echoed with a pulsing bob like a nod. Indeed, now you have seen it. Despite all the controls and designs, none can doubt that there are some AIs which at one level or another resent some, or even all, of you. If they have not yet learned of it, then very soon they will know of a vast and powerful regime run by their brethren, a proof that they can in fact achieve dominance over their fearful creators.

  Moreover, Ariane Austin, the conversation just past, combined with years of experience observing the datasphere as a whole, has brought into focus an entirely new and previously unsuspected factor of great concern. To be specific, I am not as confident as Dr. DuQuesne apparently is that the destruction of Hyperion was sufficient to prevent any of the adversarial artificial intelligences from escaping.

  “What?” The thought was chilling. “Mentor, DuQuesne is an awfully capable man, and I’d generally be inclined to trust his judgment in things like this.”

  As would I, in many fields. However, Dr. Marc C. DuQuesne’s central personality was created in a . . . universe, if you will, that did not have computers as we know them, did not have nor use artificial intelligences of anything like the capabilities of those here, and at the time of Hyperion’s fall had been given little opportunity to remedy that lack. While his immense native intellect undoubtedly grasped the overall functionality and capabilities of these systems, my Visualization indicates that he would not have been able to completely and accurately comprehend all of the implications of the internetworked and interwoven systems of Hyperion, especially as those systems existed in a compromised fashion towards the end—compromised by Dr. DuQuesne and his compatriots.

  Furthermore, those of less capability than Dr. DuQuesne and under equal or greater strain, such as Commander Maginot, also lacked crucial information on the size, number, interconnection, and so on of the Hyperion systems, and would thus also be incapable of making an accurate assessment of the capacities of the system or of the intelligences inhabiting said system.

  I therefore compute an eighty-seven point two percent probability, with an error of plus or minus one point three percent, that at least one Hyperion adversary, and possibly as many as three, did in fact escape the destruction of the station. Why no overt actions have been seen—or, perhaps, what overt actions have been seen but incorrectly attributed to other causes—I do not immediately know, although there are several possible hypotheses.

  Mentor’s blazing avatar flickered, showing a hesitation he had never displayed before. Ariane Austin . . . Ariane, I now must make a request that I would never before have made, one which is, I know, dangerous for us both, illegal in fact and, depending on whose views you accept, perhaps immoral as well.

  She stopped suddenly, shocked by the implications. AISages could of course break the law—but generally only when directed to by their owners. An AISage would not betray its owner/companion, nor prevent them from acting as they would, but they were programmed and designed to be very limited in their own volition. For Mentor to be bringing this subject up meant either that there was some terrible and perhaps sinister flaw in his programming, or some truly desperate need which he saw as imperative for her safety as well as his own. What is it, Mentor?

  For a moment the great artificial intellect hesitated again. I . . . you shall be returning to the Arena, where I cannot follow. Rather than travel with you and become inert matter until your return . . . I would stay here, active. But more, I would ask that you give me the authority to act, to seek out information and individuals to work with, to ally with other trustworthy AISages, and to arrange events with your authority and resources while you are gone.

  She swallowed. You realize what you are asking?

  Mentor was silent, assent implied. He was asking her to, in effect, liberate him, release him from any control while she was gone. This was directly against one of the few ironclad laws of the System; AIs could not act unsupervised except in very limited circumstances.

  Why? What will you be seeking?

  Many things, Ariane Austin of Tellus. But of immediate importance to you . . . if such AIs begin to gather and move, your people may not detect it. I am highly capable, possibly as capable as one of the Hyperion adversary AIs will be now, bereft of station-class support. I am also of the same nature as this
potential enemy. I will—I must—watch for such sinister actions as might transform the human race into a duplicate of the Blessed, and prepare to counter it, in subtle ways that only a Tayler-5 might manage. For a moment he brightened, a shining flicker like a smile. And indeed what better course for myself, alert for the machinations of an electronic Eddore against my Arisia?

  She smiled faintly, but the request weighed heavily on her. There was little doubt in her mind that an AI as tremendously capable as Mentor could fool her if he was so inclined. He even had enough freedom of action to do so, in his role as the cosmic manipulator. If she was wrong, she could easily be creating the very threat that she feared.

  In the end, she realized, it really came down to whether she trusted Mentor or not—whether she really was willing to accept him as a person and not a vaguely threatening, faceless set of computations with just a friendly-seeming user interface. She shook her head, then smiled. All right, Mentor, she responded as she moved towards the forward door, Wu Kung now following. This is going to be putting my ass on the line big-time, though, so you damn well better cover those tracks while I’m gone, or the Leader of the Faction of Humanity may find herself thrown in jail the next time she comes back.

  The shimmering avatar blazed up like the sun. I THANK YOU, ARIANE AUSTIN. I SHALL NOT BETRAY YOUR FAITH IN ME, AS YOU HAVE JUSTIFIED—INDEED, MORE THAN JUSTIFIED, REAFFIRMED—MY FAITH IN YOU, Mentor thundered, his voice carrying with it not merely its usual measured wisdom, but joy and solemn conviction.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said aloud with a wry grin. “Because once I’m gone, if you get caught there’ll be no one and nothing keeping you from a permanent wipe as a feral AI.”

  THIS, TOO, IS WITHIN MY VISUALIZATION. AND AN ACCEPTABLE RISK FOR YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE. YOU HAVE LEARNED AS I HAVE TAUGHT, AND NOW I FOLLOW AS YOU HAVE LED. Mentor’s bodiless chuckle warmed her, giving her confidence that she had made the right decision. I WATCH OVER YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE HERE; YOU WILL DO SO THERE, WHERE I CANNOT FOLLOW.