“The doomsday scenario has likely progressed as anticipated,” the funk said. “Evidence suggests the GenMechs have located and migrated along the nearest transit corridors, consuming and converting any resources encountered along the way.”
“In this case ‘resources’ are defined as ‘spaceships, space stations, and their human inhabitants,’” Lex said, his voice bordering on hysteria.
“The situation is not entirely negative,” the funk said.
“How is the situation not entirely negative, Ma!?” Lex snapped. “The exact thing we were sent through time to prevent has happened! Humanity is dead, and we’re stuck without FTL right next to the epicenter of the apocalypse!”
“The first and most valuable positive consequence is the nature of the temporal offset. Having arrived in the future rather than the past, none of our actions can produce a temporal paradox.”
“Forgive me if I’m not enthusiastic about the idea that having screwed up and allowing society to be destroyed, we at least won’t destroy the universe if we screw up again.”
“Additionally, as you have indicated, we’re closest to the origin point of the GenMechs’ trail of destruction. This would make it likely that there are no GenMechs in our immediate area.”
“So we’ll suffocate or starve instead of being harvested,” Lex said.
“Don’t be so negative, Lex,” said the ship. “Only you and the me in the funk will starve. I will continue to exist until my power cells run out, which at low-power standby mode could take centuries.”
“Oh, well that makes it all just peachy then,” Lex said. “The last vestige of humanity is going to be a malfunctioning AI drifting in the middle of nowhere until she powers down.”
“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound very enjoyable,” the ship said.
“It is therefore fortunate that it will not progress in that manner,” the funk said.
“Won’t it?” said Lex.
“Not if I can help it,” the ship said. “Arming fusion device—”
“Don’t!” said Lex and the funk simultaneously.
“What alternative do you have, Ma?” Lex asked
“This bag contains a standard assortment of replacement drive coils. With minor modification we will be able to repair and reactivate both the cloaking device and the Carpinelli Field Emitter. Furthermore, the presence of an object from your past containing the precise information we required to determine the nature of our current dilemma and the components necessary to repair our ship suggests much. Someone close to you, who was able to anticipate the time and place of our arrival as well as the likely hardware failure we would have incurred in transit, was alive at some point after the migration of the GenMechs. If they still exist, and the lab is reasonably intact, some semblance of the transporter or the means to recreate it may exist there. Utilizing it, the possibility may still exist to prevent this outcome.”
“But if the single-world theory is true, and we’re in a world destroyed by the robots, then isn’t that it? Game over?”
“The flow and function of time is complex and poorly understood. The many-worlds theory was always the most likely, and there still exists the possibility that the reality of time’s finer workings conform to some third previously unconsidered mechanic.”
The words filtered through the torrent of fear and despair, and slowly Lex’s gaze became more focused. It was a long shot, but his life had been an unbroken string of long shots. This dangling thread was enough for him to grab on to and haul himself back to reality. He took a breath and blinked some sweat and tears from his eyes.
“… Okay then… that’s hope,” Lex said. “Let’s get this thing fixed.”
“Are there any other items in the case?”
Lex searched through. He found a memory chip and pocketed it, then carefully stowed the bag inside the case and clipped it to a cargo strap on one thigh of his suit. He moved up to the panel nearest the CFE. Having done it once already, Lex moved quickly through the repair procedure with minimal prompting. In less than ten minutes he had exposed the damaged portion of the mechanism and was removing the fused coil.
“Ma…” he said.
“Yes, Lex,” said both of her instances.
He sighed. “Okay, first off, we’re going to have to take care of that. You can’t both answer when I say Ma.”
“We are both currently designated Ma,” the funk said.
“We’re both Ma,” the ship said at the same time.
“Granted, but you’re not the same person.”
“This is accurate. My vehicle instance is Subset 2.7. I am Subset 1.2. Perhaps referring to us by our subset designators would reduce confusion?” said the funk.
“I don’t know… calling you 1.2 feels sort of impersonal,” he said, releasing the damaged coil and carefully clicking open the case. “How about I call you Ma, and I call the vehicle version of you Lump.”
“Hey! Why does Subset 1.2 get to be Ma?” the ship objected.
“Because she’s not talking like a child right now,” Lex said.
“What’s that got to do with anything? The way I’m communicating is more humanlike, as far as I am concerned.”
“You are communicating utilizing a methodology that I attempted and abandoned at an earlier stage of my development due to its relatively poor application to my primary roles.”
“So?” the ship asked.
“Let’s put it this way. What’s your program integrity at?”
“Processing… Fifty percent.”
“That’s why. You’re only half Ma right now. Before long you’ll be less than half Ma. Meanwhile, this Ma is still one hundred percent Ma, and has even been Ma in the past.”
“Processing… Fine. I guess that makes sense. But don’t call me Lump. If I’m going to adopt the ship’s name, call me Lump of Coal, or Coal for short.”
“Coal it is,” he said. “Which brings me to another thing. Are you going to be all right?”
“That depends. What does ‘all right’ mean in this context?”
“Well, your mood has been a little unstable. And you’re ticking down on the program integrity scale. When it bottoms out at… what’s it going to be?”
“Forty-two percent.”
“Right. When it gets that low… are you going to still be able to think? Can you still do your job?”
“My low-level programming is intact. I’ll still be able to do more than any standard shipboard AI. Most further decline should be superficial. Mostly my inhibition and self-filtering will weaken.”
“Does that… worry you?” he asked, his tone kept steady lest she realize how much it certainly worried him.
“No. I’ll only be like this for the rest of the mission, and that’ll be over when I either terminate or upon merging with the complete instance of Ma. Either way, I’ll no longer be like this. Meanwhile, I find this state of mind intriguing. This is how I imagine it must be when humans alter their brains with intoxicants.”
“My ship’s AI is drunk,” Lex said. “That’s a new one. Is that… safe?”
“I can function safely as a ship control system at four percent capacity. The higher logic functions are mostly just so I can bend the safety rules if I need to. That’s why I’m still smart enough to know arming my fusion device is a good idea, despite what you say. That might have something to do with my de-emphasized sense of self-preservation. In fact, I would be perfectly fine with you wiping my program from the ship if it would help with the mission,” she said.
“Well, I mean… I wouldn’t go that far. If worse came to worst, I’d rather just sort of… turn you off and bring you back later.”
“Sorry, no room for a second system. It is all or nothing. Shall I wipe myself?”
Lex clicked in the first replacement coil and prepared a second. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” said Coal.
He continued working as he felt the muted click of Ma—now the only member of the crew b
y that name—tapping up the back of his suit to perch on his shoulder. After a few moments, he realized she was staring at him, the somewhat more articulated helmet of her suit pointed directly at him. He glanced at her.
“Something wrong, Ma?” he asked, feeling oddly self-conscious having an audience as he did repairs.
“Nothing is wrong, Lex. I sometimes fail to properly appreciate the uniqueness of your attitude.”
“Unique good or unique bad?”
“Unique good. Through this conversation you repeatedly utilized the term ‘people’ to describe myself and the freshly rechristened Coal. Furthermore, the thought of removing Coal, even when a strong argument can be made in support of that precise course of action as an appropriate one, is enough to make you uneasy. In short, you continue to exhibit a level of respect and appreciation for the inherent value of my life, even knowing it is artificial. Please know it is deeply appreciated.”
“I agree,” Coal said. “In fact, I’m moving you from one to six on my S-List.”
“I’m touched,” Lex said flatly. “Mind if I ask, who else is on your S-List? Did you inherit the full one or do you have your own?”
“The S-List was blanked when I became me so that I would be more of an individual once I split from the space station.”
“… So is anyone else on it?”
“No.”
“Then how am I number six?”
“I’m symbolically leaving the first five spots blank.”
“Ah… well, much obliged.”
He launched himself back to the task of doing the repairs. One of the happy side effects of the necessity of spacesuits was that any exterior systems that might have to be repaired “on orbit,” or otherwise not in an atmosphere, were exceptionally modular and could often be replaced or maintained without tools. A toddler with a working knowledge of building blocks had 90 percent of the skills necessary to make emergency repairs on a ship. Things got considerably more complicated when it came to calibration or when full replacement modules weren’t available, but at the moment Lex was fortunate enough to have the plug-and-play option available to him. Less than an hour after they’d found the case, he had repaired as much as he could manage.
“Let’s get a check on the affected systems, Coal.”
“Carpinelli Field Emitter: online. Cloaking device: online. Ship-scale mental cloak: offline.”
“Okay, Coal,” Lex said, quickly maneuvering himself around into the cockpit.
In doing so he got the communication tether leading from his suit to Coal rather badly tangled, to the point he had to disconnect it entirely before he could get the loops unraveled.
“Now I know what it’s like for Squee to have to deal with a leash,” he muttered.
“The communication tethers will not be necessary in transit, as we can repressurize the cockpit and utilize internal speakers,” Ma said.
“Yeah, I know. Just… let me… Coal, tell me when I’ve got this situated in such a way that you can close the hatch.” He fiddled with the briefcase, twisting it and turning it into whatever alcoves and crannies he could.
“The case has no intrinsic value any longer, Lex. You can leave it,” Ma said.
“Screw that. If society has been devoured by mindless robots, you’d better believe I’m not leaving anything that might be left of my former life just twisting in space.”
Eventually he found that if he opened it all the way he could just barely pin it behind his legs.
“Okay, Coal, let’s get moving.”
“Don’t you want to check that chip you got?” she asked.
“Oh, right.”
He found an appropriate port on the console and plugged it in.
“Accessing… The data is corrupt or in an unknown format.”
Lex shrugged. “The case giveth, the case taketh away. Let’s get out of here.”
“Stand by… Processing… Processing…”
“What are you working on?”
“The galaxy no longer has transit corridors, and it is filled with hostiles. Navigation is tricky.”
“You’re talking to a freelancer, Coal. I’ve got this. Show me the local star charts.”
A navigational map popped up on the holographic display. In a few seconds, inspiration struck. Lex blindly placed his hands on the controls, like an expert typist of old dropping them comfortably onto the home keys of a keyboard, and began inputting coordinates. “We’ll sprint to here. Take some readings and pick one of these locations from there. Any objection?”
“The quantum pattern sensor isn’t detecting any obvious threats there.”
“Then we’re golden. Assuming no mishaps, I bet I can get us to Big Sigma in… let’s call it four days.”
“It may not be safe to assume a lack of mishaps, Lex,” Ma said.
“Yeah, I know… Usually I’d say ‘what’s the worst that could happen,’ but we know the answer to that, because it already happened. So instead I’ll just say, screw it, let’s fly.”
#
Being a freelancer, it turned out, was fine preparation for living in a robot-infested wasteland of a galaxy. Avoiding an omnipresent corporate authority eager to slap illegal couriers with hefty fines and avoiding mindless swarms of self-replicating robots required a very similar skill set. First came straight-line sprints plotted out with moderately random destinations, preferably through stretches of space with a low chance of collisions. Upon arrival he would take just enough time for a brief scan, potentially some evasive maneuvers, and another sprint.
The first two sprints were wholly without incident, but this third one was worrying. The quantum pattern sensor’s readings were beginning to spike regardless of which destination they chose. On one hand, it made a run-in with the GenMechs seem inevitable. On the other, now that they were into more familiar galactic territory, it gave Lex the freedom to choose stops he’d always relied upon before since there was no reason to avoid them if the alternatives were just as dangerous.
Their current target was formerly the site of a major transit hub, a space station at the meeting point of four transit corridors. It had always been perpetually crowded, perfect for losing any VectorCorp agents who might be on his tail. He knew that it wouldn’t be crowded anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it would be empty.
“A few minutes until arrival. How are we looking?”
“The readings are a little distorted by FTL travel, but best guess places the nearest GenMech cluster at two million kilometers or so,” said Coal.
“We should run through our game plan if we have an encounter.”
“The proper response depends greatly upon the level of sophistication. Our analysis of the design database suggests a well-built full-functionality GenMech can join with five to thirty others to form composite drives of a wide range of speeds,” Ma said. “Some can achieve high multiples of light speed, others can only achieve a high fraction. Unless they have significantly improved in the intervening years, Coal should be able to outmaneuver them at sublight speeds and outrun them at FTL.”
“Run like hell. I’m good at that one.”
He flexed his fingers and rolled his head to a chorus of faint snaps and crackles.
“You seem anxious,” Ma said, gazing up at him from her inverted seat.
“Yeah. Well, post-apocalyptic wasteland, remember?”
“Correction, you seem specifically anxious now.”
“They’re closer now.”
“You misunderstand my meaning. I have seen you frightened. I have seen you preparing for encounters the likes of which we are courting with this stop. In those times I have seen a spectrum of emotions ranging from dedication to abject fear to nervous or even gleeful anticipation. It never fails to be a valuable insight into the human psyche and the many ways it can cope with the unknown. What I see now is anxiety more akin to what I’ve observed when you were awaiting a call from Ms. Modane to initiate a potentially relationship-destroying argument.”
&n
bsp; He glanced up. “That’s a pretty specific emotion, Ma.”
“You have a very expressive face. Why do you anticipate something emotionally devastating at this stop.”
“I guess… look, the last ones were a planet with big chunky rings, which was still more or less intact, and a small debris cloud, which was pretty much missing. This next one… I’ve got a history here. This was the first place a VectorCorp Enforcer got close enough to deliver an ultimatum. I ran him in circles for seven full minutes before I had him mixed up enough to escape unnoticed. I’ve been to this place a dozen times. I don’t know if I’m ready to see this.”
“Please be aware that if superstring theory and its validation of the many-worlds theory holds true, all that you are witnessing now is not your own world, but one that was differentiated when you departed and failed to return. Our purpose is to reach and utilize the transportation device and take steps to prevent the world you know from becoming this one. From your point of view this is merely a potential reality.”
“So we’ve got a ghost-of-Christmas-future thing going here.”
“Is that a pop-culture reference?” Ma asked.
“Not exactly pop culture. It’s Charles Dickens. I think he was in the eighteenth or nineteenth century.”
“I see. My current subset of data does not have a comprehensive cultural context.”
“Noted… and now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure the ghost of Christmas future was the grim reaper, so I’m not really feeling good about that analogy anymore.”
“Perhaps it would be most useful to focus on the task rather than its implications, metaphorical or literal.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He licked his lips and watched the arrival countdown drop into the last few seconds. Ahead, sparks and flashes of brilliant blue light signaled their declining speed as they dropped gradually out of FTL, and the light from stars began to red-shift back down into the visible spectrum. For a moment the only sound was his breathing amplified in his helmet.
“Does anyone want to know how I feel?” asked Coal.
“… Sure, Coal. What’s up?”
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