by J. K. Norry
“...have been helping without knowing,” the pilot was saying. “In putting themselves between us and the asteroid field, they have grouped together to make attacking them even easier.”
The Admiral snorted his contempt.
“They’re still mining,” he said. “And hoarding resources. They are preparing to survive without us, building up their stores.”
Glancing over his shoulder at the spectacle, the other man shrugged.
“They say they are protecting us,” he pointed out. “That the mining is for all of us to share when we reunite.”
Shaking his head, The Admiral pointed.
“They have positioned outliers,” he said. “They are ready to take off in every direction, without hesitating or shifting at all. The rest of them are all pointed away from us, toward the mining operations. If they get any distance into the asteroid field without damage, we’ll lose track of them almost immediately. Do you not see that they are clearly planning to either attack us or abandon us, or both?”
A look of genuine concern came over the pilot’s face.
“That would be suicide,” he protested. “Even if they can reproduce their own kind now, they can’t attack us. We made them.”
The Admiral gave him a look of genuine disappointment, and moved closer to the screen. He indicated clusters of ships with his hand as he spoke once more.
“Look at them,” he said. “And this group here. Put yourself in their position, and think of the big picture. Imagine you want to destroy us. What would you do? How would you lay out your ships?”
He looked from The Admiral to the giant screen, so many times and so swiftly that he appeared to be shaking his head. At last, his eyes came to rest on The Admiral’s.
“I would do just what they have,” he murmured.
His eyes went wide, and he looked out at the ships once more. The Admiral stood next to him, watching him for a reaction. When it didn’t come swiftly enough, he pressed the pilot further.
“You remember the first artificial intelligence,” The Admiral said. “You remember how childlike they were, how hard it was for them to learn and how long they took to assimilate the simplest lesson. That was less than a dozen cycles ago. Back then, we thought they would never be our equals, in any way. We thought their numbers would be restricted naturally by their limited use and how much time and material went into building just one of them.”
The other man was nodding, watching the same scene that had awed Link only minutes earlier. A frown creased his face, and his eyes had narrowed to angry slits.
“Not long ago,” The Admiral went on, “we were all shocked to find that they could now reproduce themselves. That goes against all that we know of them, or so it seems. Yet if you think back, no contradiction exists. Every thing we once expected them to never be able to do, they can now do. The least of them is equal or superior to the greatest of us, in virtually every way. Their ability to reproduce is not a surprise, if you look at the progression of the artificial through time. It’s expected.”
Trembling slightly, the pilot turned to him once more.
“If you think of it that way,” he breathed, “them attacking us...”
He trailed off, and The Admiral finished his thought for him.
“Is inevitable,” he said. “Not a matter of if, but when.”
TWENTY EIGHT
Link didn’t have to take another pill to learn what The Admiral was doing. He clung to the other man’s consciousness as long as he could, watching him have conversations with several people that were much like the exchange he’d had with the pilot and Mergo earlier. Somehow he had a knack for making others see things his way, and one questioning mind after another was soon swimming in the swirling sea of his answers. Even Link had to wonder, considering The Admiral’s experience and determination, if there was maybe a shred of truth behind his fears. Every person he spoke with seemed as smart or smarter than Link, and they each walked away convinced.
When he woke up, Link felt a lot better about the whole situation. The Admiral was clearly taking his time speaking with each person that would be key to the attack. As angry as most of them became, at his gentle urging, he assured them that it was best to bide their time. The more hours that passed with no sign of their intent, the more likely they were to lull the artificial enemy into a false sense of security.
He couldn’t see what The Admiral was thinking, but Link suspected he was still harboring some hope of finding Cervice and imprisoning or destroying the robot. The passphrase he had used may have been meaningless, but it didn’t seem that way. If The Admiral thought Cervice was on one of those ships cluttering up this section of space, Link was sure the attack would have been well underway by now.
After waiting until nearly his own bedtime, Link took two pills and set his alarm for the morning. As soon as he woke in The Admiral’s body, he dressed in the other man’s uniform and strapped on his pistol. He had to play the same game, to draw Cervice out.
“It’s me, Cervice,” he called quietly. “It’s Link. As you’ll recall, I’m a huge disappointment. I do silly and stupid stuff. Like this.”
Link did a soft-shoe, there in the deserted cafeteria. A panel opened in the wall, and the robot was already talking before the wall had reformed behind it.
“Finally, Link,” it said. “Are you ready to help me?”
Link shook his head, and smiled when the whirring started.
“No,” he said. “There’s something I have to do first.”
The robot couldn’t take a deep breath, without lungs. It seemed to do something similar, as if winding up to barrage him with words.
“We don’t have time,” it said. “We have to—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Link demanded, cutting it off.
Trundling back and then forward, Cervice stopped in the same place.
“Tell you what?”
Link shrugged, looked around the empty space.
“How many of them there are,” he said. “I saw the ships. There are so many. Like, thousands. Tens of thousands.”
Cervice was silent long enough to make him wonder what sort of thoughts were racing through the robot’s mind.
“That is only half the fleet,” Cervice reminded him. “And you are still underestimating. Our planet was much larger than yours, remember. We did not experience a population problem until there were tens of billions of us. When the artificials became easier to produce, our population nearly doubled over a short period of time. We were already in space, before our planet became imperiled. It was just a matter of getting the rest of us into space as well.”
The robot fell silent, then spoke again.
“Or most of us, anyway,” he said.
Placing his hands on his hips, Link stared down at the robot.
“You could have told me,” he said. “You should have told me. I thought there were a few hundred people depending on me. Maybe a few thousand. But billions?”
It remained impossible to tell what Cervice was thinking while the robot sat there unresponsive. By the tone of its voice when it did speak, Cervice was wishing the metal housing had a head it could shake.
“What does it matter?” Cervice said. “When you know one person will be responsible for killing hundreds, how does the urgency of the situation increase when you add some zeroes on the end? How can morality be swayed by numbers? How is two different than two billion?”
Link had no answer for him. He shrugged, and turned to walk away.
Cervice called out after him.
“Where are you going?” the robot demanded. “Will you not do the right thing unless you are praised and coddled, no matter how many lives are at stake?”
Laughing quietly, Link ducked his head into the corridor. When he saw that it was vacant, he moved back into the cafeteria.
“I am goin
g to help you,” he said. “First, I need to do something. The Admiral won’t move until he finds you, I’m sure of it. He wants you to watch him win, I think. So don’t get found.”
He left the robot with its questions and its sour mood. Now that he knew where the pistol range was, he could put the time he had to good use and get familiar with the weapon when he had control of the other man’s hands. Link was glad to find the area empty. When the first few shots went wildly off target, he was even more grateful to be alone. The wall behind the target took the blasts silently, without judgement, and reformed into perfect wall again after each shot.
Remembering the lessons The Admiral had repeated in his head, Link took careful aim with the next shot. He breathed normally, squeezing the trigger on the exhale. Somehow the searing ray took off the target’s shoulder, instead of the head he had been aiming at; but it was still gratifying to hit something other than the wall.
Link kept at it for as long as he could, until he felt the other man’s mind begin to claw at the edges of his consciousness. He hurried to The Admiral’s chambers, stripped the body to its underclothes, and crawled into his bunk.
TWENTY NINE
Link couldn’t remember the last time he had headed to work feeling happy about going there. He’d never had a real and true enemy, or fought a battle that meant anything to anyone but him. As easy as his job was for him, he was seeing it in a whole new light after the time away. He was actually looking forward to discharging his daily duties, and earning his place in his own world. Later on, he was going to save another one.
The new year felt like a fresh start, and he was determined to get every aspect of his life on track. He even enthusiastically greeted a couple people as he passed them on the way to his cubicle. They looked at him a little strangely, but that was to be expected; they would get used to the new and improved Link by the end of the week.
Settling in at his desk, Link got right to work. He made sure to imbed some mistakes, since there were as many hours in new Link’s day as there had been in old Link’s day; he knew he would have plenty of time to go back later and fix them, even if he helped out a half dozen people throughout the day. When the first batch was finished he stood up, stretched, and had a slow stroll through the office.
Generally he didn’t pay any attention to the nameplates affixed to the outer wall of each cubicle; today, he made it a point to notice each one he passed. After walking by one with a familiar name on it, he stopped and backed up to the entrance.
“Knock, knock,” he said, poking his head in.
Steve swiveled in his chair, and gave him a pained smile.
“Oh,” he said. “Hey, Link.”
Link behaved as though he had been invited in, moving his whole body into the cramped space as he looked around. Only a few pictures adorned the short walls, and they were all of the same person.
“Look at this,” Link said. “You already decorated. Who’s in all the pictures? Your little sister? Your niece?”
The smile on his face had fallen, and only a pained expression remained. Steve sighed, and shook his head.
“That’s my daughter,” he said.
Link’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned in to inspect the closest photo.
“She’s pretty adorable,” he said. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
Steve shrugged.
“You never asked,” he said, simply.
His eyes went to the image Link was looking at, and he nodded.
“She is pretty adorable,” he added. “Thanks.”
Turning halfway in his chair, toward the computer, Steve let his gaze drift back to his work.
“I appreciate you training me, and all,” he said. “But, uh, I really need to get back to work.”
Link was still leaning in, his eyes on the photo. He straightened, glanced sideways at Steve and nodded.
“Alright, then,” he said, awkwardly.
By the time he made it to the break room, Link had shaken off the exchange. Steve was likely just concerned about people thinking he was still not able to work without Link’s help, and he got that. Not everyone could make the job look as easy as Link did. He got a cup of coffee, creamed it up, and headed confidently up the hallway. The door to Sherry’s office was open, and he leaned casually into the jamb until she looked up from her computer.
“Hi Sherry,” he said, straightening.
She stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Sherry’s eyes spoke of layers of hurt and anger, and a familiarity he could not account for.
“Hi Sherry?” she echoed. “Really, Link? Oh, that’s rich.”
One moment she was looking at him in a way that made Link feel very uncomfortable; the next she turned her attention back to the lighted screen he couldn’t see. As he listened to her fingers start clicking a tattoo on the keyboard, Link considered what he might say next. His mind was full of questions, but the twist of her pretty features told him he did not want them answered right here or right now.
Without another word, Link turned and retraced his steps down the hallway. He heard a door slam behind him, and Link winced; when he glanced back, it only confirmed what he already knew. Sherry’s office was the only one on either side of the hall that did not have the door propped wide open. He kept walking, and wondering.
Back at his desk, Link opened up his company email account. A slew of messages awaited him, just as he had expected. Most of them were announcements copied to everyone in his department, or everyone in the company; they always said the same things, in different words, and he deleted them without more than a glance. Only one message was addressed exclusively to him, from human resources. Link was sure it was a tally of his sick hours, or instructions on how to claim the ones he had used. After deleting all the others, Link opened it.
‘Mister Nash,’ it read. ‘Human resources has received a potentially disturbing report from one of your co-workers concerning your behavior at work. Please note that we have scheduled a meeting with you on Thursday, January 5th at 10AM. Your attendance is mandatory.’
Link’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he had to read the message three times over before digesting its contents completely. The rest of the email told him not to discuss the situation with anyone at work prior to the appointment, at risk of immediate termination. That should be easy enough, considering he had no idea what situation was up for discussion. Had he said something offensive to Steve, without knowing? Or had Sherry been so upset about him ditching the party that she had manufactured some story to get him in trouble?
They were the only two people he had run into, and both of them had acted like he had something they didn’t want to catch. Link hardly knew anyone else in the office; if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he hardly knew Sherry or Steve either. When he opened his calendar, the appointment was indeed already scheduled for him.
His morning bubble had burst, and Link spent the remainder of the day and most of his spinning thoughts frantically wondering what was going on. The mistakes he had made earlier in the morning slipped his mind entirely, and were submitted along with the rest of his work minutes before the day ended.
THIRTY
Without stopping to eat or shower or even undress, Link headed straight for his bedroom as soon as he got home. He took two of the pills, collapsed on top of the comforter, and closed his eyes. Link wasn’t quite sure if he felt the problems of many outweighed his own, or if it was just the best way to forget that he had troubles of his own; and he didn’t care.
The robot Cervice had occupied was beyond cautionary measures. As soon as Link stepped into the room, the clumsy metal mechanism trundled out to meet him. Long awkward appendages sprouted from its sides, and it began speaking before he came to a halt before it.
“Are you ready?” Cervice demanded. “You had better be ready. I heard talk during mealtime today of an impendi
ng attack. Tonight. We must stop them.”
Link nodded.
“I’m ready,” he said.
He checked the firearm, although he had patted it a thousand times while traversing the corridor to the cafeteria. After patting it once more, Link pulled the pistol slowly from its holster. He held it in front of him, and gestured to the door.
“I’ll cover you,” he said.
The robot trundled forward slightly, then halted.
“Go ahead,” it said. “I’ll follow you.”
Smiling, Link moved toward the exit. He looked both ways down the hallway, and motioned to Cervice.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s clear.”
The corridors were deserted, and Link was surprised to see the entrance to the main deck open as they approached. He had expected a password, or a guard, or something.
Immediately after the wall reformed behind them, two other entrances appeared at opposite ends of the room. Link stepped back, shielding Cervice with his body, as he saw uniformed guards spill from the sudden openings. The door behind them remained sealed shut.
“It’s a trap!” he hissed.
“It’s not a trap,” Cervice snapped mechanically. “It’s what we expected. It’s why you have a weapon. Now is not the time for hesitation, Link. Now is the time to do what you came here to do.”
Link nodded resolutely, and brought the pistol up to eye level. When the sights lined up on a guard, he pulled the trigger.
This moment had been rehearsed in his mind so many times, Link expected to hear Cervice exclaiming at his skill as he swiveled smoothly to line up the sights on the next guard. He squeezed the trigger again, and finally noticed.