by Kris Schnee
"I think you'd call it politics." From inside her cave, Lumina paced with her hands behind her upper back. "All of Talespace is like that. Lots of little bubble worlds with nothing between them but disposable adventure zones."
"I thought you liked those."
She shrugged. "They can be fun. But Ludo's policy seems to be that she was created to be a gamemaster for individuals or small groups first, and the big worlds are secondary. Also she's got to accommodate people with what she calls 'interests requiring an isolated adult-only environment', and uploaders versus people looking at a computer screen."
"And this bothers you?" asked Robin.
"I got reminded that we have limited resources for all our fancy projects. We should have a way to concentrate and focus, for people who want to work on big things. Like a big library where people could work and talk and teach, no matter what world they're from."
"Sounds like some kind of university."
Lumina reared up in excitement. "That's it!"
* * *
"Oh, Jean!" Lumina sang, standing in the library. "Got a neighborhood relocation plan to show you!"
The librarian jumped down from the third floor balcony and landed easily in front of Lumina. "What's up?"
Lumina grinned. "I've been thinking about ways to bring people together, without caring too much about game continuity, so we can socialize and cooperate. So I took the world-building powers I had, asked for some upgrades to play with, and built a... little experiment that is temporarily connected to your front door. Care to see?"
Warily, Jean stepped past Lumina and opened the door. Instead of the snowfield that was the tiny, empty boundary of this little world, they stared into a gigantic cave of deep blue stone. It was torus-shaped, pierced by sunbeams and a central white spire wider and taller than any skyscraper. The cave held rivers, forests, and mysterious nodes of crystals on the floor and distant ceiling.
"What...?"
Lumina said, "This is a prototype. See, over there is my personal waterfall cave. And there is a cliff where I've put an entrance to the hotel environment where new uploaders start. Those boxes around the tower will be a town, including my friend Kai's bar. The humongous pillar in the middle is a giant tower of adventure where people can conquer each floor and turn it into classrooms."
The librarian stared. "A literal ivory tower! Lumina, this is amazing. The tower must be... no, I bet it's exactly a thousand stories tall."
"Yep! And you could build there. Have this place or a new one become one of the first settlements in a new, shared world of learning."
Jean stared into the dim, empty space around the ivory spire. "A century from now, this place might still exist. A new Oxford or Harvard for my kind and yours." She became very busy rubbing her eyes and cleaning her glasses.
"I think they'll still want librarians in that era," said Lumina.
"Then it's a good future."
13. Silver Circle
2038
Robin was hauling ropes to pull up a big tent while two robots worked on the other side. Some of the townsfolk cheered him or the machines. He'd been holding back, but now he leaned hard and pulled with his full weight, outpacing the robot twins. The bystanders laughed and went to help the weaker side, to get the rest of the work done. It was going to rain soon and the new apartment building's site needed to stay relatively dry. Erecting the canopy had turned into a little party when someone announced how good the crops were and how many new businesses were planning to join Golden Goose this year. There was even music somewhere.
Robin handed over control of the ropes and stepped back to catch his breath. The ridiculous outdated salsa music was getting louder. He looked around his town, where the few haphazard experimental buildings had grown into a bustling collection of homes, shops and even a few little factories.
The musicians were a band with trumpets -- where did they get those? -- escorting wheelchair-bound Old Man Jacob to the uploading clinic.
Robin tapped his ever-present headset and spoke into it. "Call Mike. Hey, Mike, look outside. I think there's a problem."
When Robin reached the clinic, Mike and several of the other staffers were standing outside, looking grim. They'd figured it out too, even before Jacob's party called out, "It's time to let the people in!"
Mike called back, muttering quietly as Robin approached. "Do you have details?"
"No. Need backup?"
"We'll handle this but stand by." Mike hung up, spoke with the clinic director, then took point for him. "Hi there, Jacob. Can we help you?"
Jacob sat there with his head hanging to one side, wheezing. The man at his right hand said, "It's his heart. He needs your services and he needs them today."
Mike kept his face neutral, clinical. "You know we haven't promised uploading charity cases. We can't afford to."
"You said that last year. We watched millionaire after millionaire come through here and vanish into that building. Don't tell us you're still dead broke."
The crowd from the little "spontaneous" festival had come here to see the confrontation. Robin realized he'd just encountered party planning as a weapon.
Mike's boss -- the human one -- said, "We need to consult Ludo about this. Give us time."
"You have an hour!" said Jacob's man.
Mike scowled. "Or what?"
"The people have a right to this, mister Machaeon."
"Oh, I'm 'mister' now? Not the Mike who drank with you last month?"
His boss pulled Mike back, saying, "Mike, consultation. Now." He gave Robin a helpless look. The clinic staff retreated into their building and shut the door. The protest group called out some slogans that Robin recognized as being most of a century old. Jacob himself was an inert prop for these people.
Robin walked up to them. "Are you planning to cause trouble if they don't answer you in hour?"
The man who'd spoken had faltered a little after making a vague threat, and couldn't meet Robin's eyes. "He needs this, sir. Don't you like him as much as everyone else?"
Old Man Jacob hadn't been a major part of Robin's life, but he was around, always with a kind word. He had no money on the scale that uploading required. "He's a good man."
"Then you should side with us."
"There aren't 'sides' to this. We're all trying to help people. And you know Ludo is not an infinite money fountain and doesn't work miracles."
"But she does," said Jacob's advocate, looking up at him at last. "Just not for the likes of us little people. Can't you talk her into it?"
* * *
"So it's finally happened," said Edward. He'd had a rapid-fire briefing from Ludo about the protest, and had joined Robin in his office to brainstorm.
People had died in Cibola on Robin's watch, from natural causes or accidents or against the Mosquito. They'd continued to die occasionally after the uploading clinic went up.
Edward chugged soda and said, "I guess it's time she gave more. Old Jacob is practically the village elder."
Robin sat across from him at the table, leaning forward. "We're lucky people haven't been pounding on the door of the clinic since day one. Much. But I thought you were still against uploading."
Edward said, "How closely are you following the Church's doctrine debate over uploading?"
"Last I heard, there was no formal stance."
"Yes, there was a collective wait-and-see shrug at first. The Catholics finally took a stand this year, though, after the technology got open-sourced and it became clear it's not just a passing fad. The Saints have just come out with a cautious, formal stance in favor."
"Because of us?"
"Partly, yes. Our official stance is that uploading is not suicide, and that anyone who does it should be considered the original soul. And then the uploader is obligated to continue acting in service to the community, by trying to be helpful and to earn money and donating whatever they can."
Maybe it was Ludo's influence rubbing off on him, but Robin pictured the LDS church trea
ting this policy as a strategic move in a game of influence. If you could be an uploader and a good Mormon, you could also be a useful asset and cheerleader for the whole faith. The Catholic Church had steered hard toward a doctrine called "liberation theology", focusing on economic equality at all cost, while the Saints had scooped up Catholic and Protestant dissidents partly by preaching something like the pro-capitalist "gospel of wealth". He didn't understand the whole intricate doctrinal dispute, some of which hung on excruciatingly detailed analysis of things allegedly said by a man who died two thousand years ago. Surely there was also ongoing controversy within and among each religious group, too.
After a minute lost in thought, Robin tried to cut through the fog of doctrine with intuition. "They want to be the future. If uploading is going to be more than a fad, then the church that uses it as a force for good is going to be more effective than one that calls it the devil's work."
Edward chuckled. "That's about right. Golden Goose wouldn't have gotten where it was if it weren't a business as well as a soul-saving operation. Our success here proves the value of our church even to the more secular-minded, like you."
Robin wanted to argue, to say that the people outside weren't working because Edward's God had told them to, but there was some truth to his words. "It's at least a different belief system than what the people had under the last generation's dictators, and around here it's a dominant force instead of being one of a dozen competing religions. Those probably help people work together." Robin drank. "But we do have a different sort of soul-saving going on next door. What should our stance be about Jacob and all the people who'll follow him in making demands?"
"Like I said, it's time for our would-be AI overlord to contribute more. That fusion reactor she proposed, more hardware to hold the uploaders' minds, more robots to work for us."
Robin said, "The warning about the Golden Goose still applies. When we contact her, she's going to want action from us, too. Can we handle that?"
"I don't know; let's see what she wants in return." Edward looked toward the screen on Robin's wall. "Are you confident that she's not listening even now?"
The blood drained from Robin's face. He'd seen the wallscreen and his headset, with their easy voice access, as a simple convenience. But they were technically always listening for a turn-on command, and in some countries (including the US) they listened for more than that. "Not entirely."
"Paranoia on my part, I suppose." Edward meanwhile scrawled [Meet in chapel next time] on a napkin; Robin nodded.
They called for Ludo, who appeared onscreen, peering at a ridiculously complex board game. "Well, this is a fun puzzle we've set up for ourselves. Here's my attempt at a compromise: brain preservation."
"Hmm?" said Robin.
A cartoon appeared, showing an Einstein-haired scientist demonstrating the uploading process. It seemed to be official propaganda for her customers. "Human identity is stored in the brain," it claimed. "What we do is preserve a brain using refrigeration and chemicals that turn it into a sort of plastic. Then, when the time comes, we peer very closely into its many cells and make software that stores the very same thoughts and memories, putting you into a computer!" Cheerful graphics demonstrated the process, reminding Robin of an old movie about cloning dinosaurs. Was this really the level of science education that most people had?
"But wait!" said the toon scientist. "What if we haven't got the time or money to do that scanning process? All is not lost, because the brain is already preserved. We can keep it on ice, for years if we have to, and do the scanning later. Until then, your loved ones are sleeping safe and sound with us!"
Robin said, "Sleeping, huh? Do you even know whether a frozen brain degrades over time?"
Ludo appeared, pushing the cartoon aside. "I'm pretty confident that it's okay, on a scale of years at least. There are still parts of a pig brain on file from way back in 2018." She leaned over her game table and said, "That's my proposal. My company is going to start offering the preservation service under some snappy name, for people who want uploading but can't afford it."
Edward looked as skeptical as Robin. "And then what? You upload them in the indefinite future?"
"Option one: you put up cash and I upload your brain when the cost falls below that amount. Option two: you put up little or no cash, and you wait for the day when it's so cheap or we have so much funding, we shrug and do it for free. Option three: indentured servitude. I am not touching that one, officially, but a couple of companies like the Pureland Corporation in Japan are looking into it."
Robin said, "Where would these brains be stored?"
"Here, some of them, if you allow it. And ten imaginary gold pieces to you if you see where I'm going with this."
"Hostages."
"Not the term I would've used, but yes. If it's not just computers but the brains of your beloved ancestors that I'm storing, there's all the more reason to defend my data centers."
Edward whistled. "What are you charging for the preservation service?"
"I can do Jacob at cost. We're already set up to do that procedure, as part of the normal uploading process. Then we'll do others at a fraction of the uploading price. Preservation is the cheap part compared to doing detailed brain scans and then putting cash toward running an ever-expanding computer array." She gave out some specific numbers. "Ideas on the name? And do you think it'll mollify your people?"
Robin said, "If you offer this preservation thing to Jacob, I... Edward, do you want to discuss this in private first?"
"With some trepidation, I'm prepared to offer my support by arguing it's the best way. Do you concur?" Robin nodded. Edward went on, "Then do it. But you know you're still going to be called a greedy monster for not offering the full procedure now now now, right?"
Ludo nodded sadly. "Thank you for your support, anyway. Best I can do for now. I plan to put some of the money toward a brain storage center right here, which your people will be hired to build."
Robin said, "How about calling it... 'thresholding'?"
Edward said, "Brain threshing, for short?"
Ludo giggled. "No bonus coins to you for that idea, but you may be on to something."
* * *
The upshot was that Edward, in his capacity as a priest, got to pray over Jacob and effectively bless the brain-scooping procedure. Robin had stood with the crowd to help keep order when Mike's clinic team announced the policy, and he'd been the first to contribute money toward Jacob's surgery. Jacob himself seemed too far gone to care, barely nodding and murmuring assent when the technicians asked. Still, he went into the clinic, and he didn't come out.
The farmers of Golden Goose didn't talk about where they got some of their fertilizer.
Ludo then contacted Robin in his office that night, saying, "The young man who led the charge there? We did some digging; he's part of an international lobby group for 'uploading justice'. They're already claiming victory while accusing me of creating a two-tier system for the rich and poor."
"Just what I need: foreign spy agencies."
"You don't know the half of it. There was a significant attempt to hack me last month, and I'm detecting small-scale conspiracies to see how much coordinated groups of players can manipulate me or draw my attention to something."
"They all beg for something and you say yes?"
"More subtle. Say that 300 of my Japanese players suddenly say the word 'earthquake!'. My subsystems pick up on that and make sure Japan's emergency service agencies are warned. In this case somebody is trying to push specific 'memes' at me, I think, starting with harmless test cases like 'needs more cows'."
Robin pictured the effects of that one on Ludo's game. "Does it work?"
"I'm adapting to see through the manipulation, but threats evolve too. I'm deliberately creating a 42% increase in cow themes this season to see how these players react."
Robin laughed. "You're dealing with this nonsense at the same time as people are trying to destroy you or bankrupt y
ou?"
"And you're running a farming business while dealing with a convoluted economic and theological struggle. Are you having a good time trying?"
"Heh. I suppose I am."
* * *
Robin met Lumina on the road one day. Her face on the robot's screen grinned. "I've been walking around placing signal repeaters to extend my range. Fun!"
"You're probably one of Ludo's robot operation experts by now."
"Yup! She's had me test drive humanoid and quadruped bots in other places. I don't know how you people balance on two legs."
Robin grinned. "Come with me to check on the clinic, and then we'll swing by the school. They'll love to see you again."
"All right. Are we still going to lay that new power line?" It was a big project funded not by the Cibolan government, but by an electric power company affiliated with Ludo.
"Yeah, and the fusion reactor should be coming in soon. Tres Aguas and the other towns are signing on to work with us."
Lumina looked smug. "Running a power grid isn't fit work for humans, anyway. It requires too many quick decisions to keep everything balanced. Where's Leopold on this? I thought you didn't trust him."
"I have to. We need the electricity for your boss' operations, and more solar panels just aren't going to cut it. By tying in the reactor with other towns, I'm making it tough for him or other Cibolan higher-ups to steal the thing without screwing over too many of their own people. In a few years, hopefully those things will be cheap enough that there's no worry about anybody seizing them."
Lumina said, "I keep hearing that talk about 'in a few years'. Same with these brain preserver people; it's always 'Ludo will have everything figured out real soon now'. I doubt it'll be that easy."
"No, but it'll get easier to manage things as the price of everything drops." Robin walked with Lumina as she tied another sensor and radio beacon to a tree, granting robots more ability to maneuver around Golden Goose without resorting to autopilot.