The Singularity Trap

by Dennis E. Taylor

  Uh oh. Looked like rumors of a leak of some kind had just graduated to something more solid. He didn’t envy Dr. Narang’s boss at that moment.

  In fact, Laakkonen looked stunned. She obviously had not expected to have that particular narrative dumped on her. However, the rules hadn’t changed.

  Laakkonen: Ms. Harrison, I don’t know where you get your information from, but what you are proposing is inflammatory and sensationalist. I will not be party to such a discussion.

  With that, Dr. Laakkonen picked up her tablet and walked out of the press room.

  Well, that was fun. Ivan shook his head in awe. But I don’t think she pulled off the save.

  In fact, the press room was seething with yelled questions, threats, and promises of repercussions. Not all from reporters.

  Things had definitely just hit the fan.

  * * *

  Dear Judy,

  I’m sure you’ve seen the news. How could you miss it?

  Love, this is exactly the kind of event I was worried about. Now, everyone is going to be looking for the names and addresses of the crew of the mystery ship. If they connect the dots, they’ll come after you and the children. Please, get away as soon as you can. Don’t give notice, just go. Find a new place and sign under your sister’s name. Pull the kids out of school. Hell, we can afford tutors in a year or so to bring them up to speed.

  I’m concerned about calls from the base being traced. But I’ll talk to you soon, if I can.

  Love, Ivan

  Putting It in Perspective

  “Hello Ivan. How are you holding up?”

  Ivan turned to see Dr. Narang at the window. “Doing okay, Doc. I’ve been getting caught up on all the Vid programs that I’ve missed for the last, well, all my life.”

  Dr. Narang chuckled. “Yes, a little bit of boredom sounds nice compared to everything that’s going on groundside.” She hesitated. “Ivan, you know that the media outed the situation here…”

  “Yeah, I saw the session where Harrison sprang it on your boss. They haven’t gotten our names, have they?”

  “No, although at this point we’re not discounting the possibility. Have you talked to your family about it? There are threats now. If personal details ever got out, they could be in danger.”

  “We took steps early on, Doc. It always seemed like an inevitability, you know?”

  Narang nodded. “That’s good. I’m going to talk to the crew next. I hope they’ve already done something as well. But if not, I think they’ll have to consider it a priority.”

  “What’s going on, Doc? What have I missed?”

  “It’s not something you missed. I have the inside line both because I’m ICDC and because Admiral Moore keeps me updated. I get the impression he’s trying to frighten me more than inform me, sometimes. But I might be biased.” She hesitated. “To the point, though, this whole thing has mobilized extremists of all stripes. Riots, sabotage, incidents of what I suppose are terrorism are becoming more frequent on Earth. The Miners Guild headquarters in Detroit was firebombed last night.”

  “Because I’m a miner? That’s a stretch.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense, Ivan.” She got up, gave him a sympathetic look. “I just wanted to let you know.”

  He watched her until she turned a corner and was out of sight.

  Outstanding. This just gets better, doesn’t it?

  If ever there’d been any doubt, this settled it. He could never be associated with his family again. This wasn’t going to go away, it wasn’t going to get better. Even if, by some miracle, he was somehow “cured”—whatever that might mean—the nut-jobs wouldn’t accept that he was no longer a danger. They’d never stop until he’d been found and eliminated.

  It was time to accept reality. He would do whatever it took to keep his family safe. Including never going near them again.

  In the News

  Seth watched the Vid, his eyes getting larger and rounder. Burning buildings, police in riot gear being slowly pushed back as rioters advanced, throwing rocks, bricks, and burning objects. Every so often, the program cut to a view of ICDC headquarters, taken at an angle that ensured the viewer would make the connection and could read the protestors’ placards.

  What are you hiding?

  Are they already dead?

  ICDC replaced by Pod People?

  This is the End Times

  Prayer is the only solution

  Humans first!

  No more lies!

  “What exactly do these people want the ICDC to do?” Aspasia asked, from the next table.

  “Take it back? Make it so it didn’t happen? Say it ain’t so?” Seth glanced at her and shrugged. “Take your pick.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Spazzie, you’re a big girl,” Tenn said. “People throw food riots when there’s no food, housing riots when there’s no housing, because if you blow a fit, someone will make it all better. That’s the theory, anyway.”

  Seth agreed. Tenn could be a pain, but sometimes he managed to really hit the nail right on the thumb. “Mm, yeah. So this group doesn’t like the idea that there are extraterrestrials out there. Not sure why, but if they have a public conniption, maybe it’ll turn out to have been a big joke.”

  “You guys need to pay a little more attention.”

  Everyone turned to look at Lita Generus. Her face was drawn and tired. “This peaceful demonstration was organized by the Fundamentalist Church of We’re-Always-Right. Apparently, the idea that there are E.T.s out there conflicts with Creationist beliefs. Who knew? Anyway, surprise surprise, it got out of control.”

  Tenn frowned. “How is that different from what I said?”

  Lita smiled at him, shook her head, and went back to her tablet.

  “I think I heard about similar demonstrations in the Middle East,” Tenn added. “Same motive, I think.”

  “Well, not all religions are up in arms about it.” Lita looked up from her tablet again. “The Church of the Return, for instance.”

  Seth made a face. “Who’s got the what, now?”

  Lita laughed. “It’s new. Apparently whoever built our nanites are the same aliens who invented people and built the pyramids. They’re coming back to take the faithful back to the pearly gates. Which is a space station, or something.”

  Seth covered his face and groaned.

  “Oh, yes,” Lita continued. “They congregate on mountain tops and hills, build huge fires to attract the starships, and run around wearing tin-foil hats.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was.”

  The news coverage switched to a different topic. The reporter was interviewing someone, who was wearing camouflage and carrying a military-looking rifle.

  “What the hell?” Grabbing the remote, Seth hit volume. The Vid’s sound system filled the room.

  Sir, we aren’t worried about whether the aliens are returning gods or demons or whatever. We’re simply getting ready for the possibility that they might, purposefully or accidentally, unleash a plague on us. My understanding is that the quarantined ship has a disease on board. There are rumors that the crew were all turned to goo.

  “Oh, friggin’ hell,” Tenn muttered. “Preppers.”

  “Well, it’s a simple series of jumps from ‘there are nanites’ to ‘Gray Goo scenario’ to ‘it actually happened.’” Lita shrugged.

  “Did someone actually release that information?” Seth asked.

  “No.”

  Everyone turned at the last statement, to look at the observation window. Dr. Narang stood on the other side, holding the microphone. “We’re still trying to put together a news release that won’t cause the apocalypse. It’s beginning to look, though, like the delay is worse than a hasty statement would be. We don’t know how details got out. Navy intelligence is working on it.”

  Lita put down her tablet. “Based on that last interview, it looks like lack of i
nformation is just leaving room for speculation to spiral out of control.”

  “Our feeling as well. We’re going to squirt what we have to the UEN by end of day, and they can do what they want from there. The President will probably make a statement within twenty-four hours.”

  “Jesus.” Seth drained his coffee, and got up. He placed his mug in the dishwasher tray. The small mech grabbed the item and began to wash it frantically. Seth watched the furious activity for a moment, certain that the device was glaring at him, then headed for his room.

  * * *

  Seth stared at the ceiling, hands behind his head. All this because Ivan couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

  No, that’s not fair. I’m beginning to sound like Tenn.

  But Tenn did have a point. Ivan didn’t have to reach for the stupid damn thing. Seth grimaced. The thought made him feel vaguely ashamed. The fact that he hadn’t phoned Ivan just to say hi, even more so.

  Before he could have second thoughts, Seth picked up the phone and dialed.

  * * *

  Ivan picked up the phone before the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hi Ivan, it’s Seth.”

  Ivan sat up. A phone call from any of the crew was an event. “Hey, how are things over there?”

  “Things are…tense, to be honest.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Because of the quarantine. Some people can’t separate the two in their minds.”

  “Got it.”

  “The thing is, Ivan…” Seth hesitated, and Ivan waited silently. “The thing is, the doctors are talking about when and how we’ll get out of quarantine. The nanites are apparently pretty easy to detect, so once they’ve got a good procedure set up to ensure we’re clean, we’re out of here. But…” Again the hesitation. “When we ask about you, they dodge the question, or they just don’t answer.”

  “They can’t, Seth. It’s not a case of just getting rid of a few nanites. There’s no me left.”

  “Yeah, but that’s just it. No one wants to push the issue here. When they open the doors, we’ll leave. And no one feels good about that, or wants to talk about it. Well, maybe Tenn, but you can’t be sure of anything with him.”

  “Survivor’s guilt?”

  “Sort of, I guess. Everyone feels like we should be doing something. We’re just not sure what.”

  Ivan was silent for a moment, choosing his words. “Seth, I understand. And there really isn’t anything anyone can do. Except maybe make sure the military doesn’t dissect me as soon as you leave. I think that’s my biggest fear.”

  “Well, the captain has that covered. And most of us have offered to help, if the costs get too out of control.” Seth chuckled. “Then the captain reminded us that he owns fifteen shares of Big Rock. He really doesn’t need help with the bills.”

  Ivan laughed out loud. “So if we are filthy rich for life, he’s…”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  Ivan hesitated. He wanted so much to tell Seth about some of the things he was learning, about his new abilities. But he couldn’t do that. He’d dropped hints of things to Dr. Kemp in a moment of weakness, and might have put him in danger. He wasn’t going to repeat that with his friend.

  “Thanks for being honest with me, Seth. And tell the guys not to worry. They have their lives to live. My family is taken care of, so I’m good.”

  “All right, buddy. Take care of yourself.”

  Ivan hung up the phone. Funny, the world seemed less lonely now.

  He lay back on his bunk. And what about that whole question? What would he do if the military decided to cart him off to the backside of the moon and take him apart? Could he even do anything? Would he be better off dead? Would his family be better off if he was dead?

  And what if it turned out the computer was here to pass on the secrets of FTL, immortality, infinite energy, and universal peace? He’d be quite the putz if he sabotaged that, wouldn’t he?

  The same questions as ever, round and around and around. But no answers, yet. Ivan had always prided himself on being analytical—a necessary quality for a computer guy. For all the despair that colored his world at the moment, he wouldn’t check out until he knew for sure it was for the best.

  Reconsiderations

  The officers grouped around the table looked up as Moore came into the room. He stopped to examine each person and do a quick threat analysis. The last meeting had been fractious, and he’d only hinted at the possibility of unorthodox operations. Today, would be, well…harder.

  He sat, took a moment to review his notes, and looked up. “Sers, we have a problem. Multiple problems, really. You’ve all seen the news. I’m sure you’re getting regular recaps from your staff. It’s in the shit on Earth, but good. We’ve tracked down the source of the leak, by the way, and there’s a court-martial in someone’s future. But that doesn’t help us now.”

  “Presumably you have a suggestion that will help us,” Castillo said.

  Moore didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “Since you ask, yes. It may become necessary for us to cure the alien infection, in a very public manner. Civil unrest is at a level not seen since the events that led to the New Liberation. The public wants a fix, and no half-measures.”

  Castillo leaned forward, his antagonism forgotten. “Public manner implies that it might be more about presentation than reality?”

  Moore nodded. “That’s right, Admiral. We implement your failsafe strategy, then—”

  “The nuke? You’ll actually go through with it?” Gerrard looked genuinely scared, and Moore felt a stab of contempt. How did that man ever get into a command position, anyway?

  “That is correct. At some point, we will find ourselves needing to detonate it, presumably to prevent some kind of excursion or something. With regret, overwhelming danger, blah blah.”

  “And Pritchard?” asked Nevin.

  “Safely elsewhere.”

  Nevin shook her head. “We talked about this before. The man has rights. And you know as well as I that, in this political environment, a judge would come down on the side of a citizen by default.”

  “Yes, Commodore, I keep up on current affairs, too. Though, technically, we aren’t impinging on those rights, at least not to any extent greater than is already imposed by the quarantine. He won’t be chained to a wall. He’ll just be in a different facility, which will be safer for him and for us. And for the public in general.”

  “His family—”

  “Will never see him again, face to face, in any case. And we can, if it seems feasible, make some kind of arrangement in that area. His family, right now, is in considerable danger if Mr. Pritchard’s identity becomes public. Why don’t we ask him what he’d prefer?” Moore gave Nevin his best innocent look.

  She rolled her eyes, but silently conceded the point.

  Interlude

  Ivan turned off the Vid. The computer had made it clear that information transfer needed to be two-way. In return for creating Ivan’s picture shows, the computer expected to watch the news for an equal amount of time. Seemed fair. And it wasn’t as if the news was boring.

  Ivan lay back, his hands behind his head, and waited.

  It wasn’t long in coming.

  He was getting emotional overtones now from the computer. Just the basic ones: fear, anger, hate.

  Today’s lesson seemed to be about the galaxy’s inhabitants. Owners? Maybe. And at least one group of galactic overlords had made the device that Ivan had triggered.

  Then, a catalog of obviously artificial beings, although not done out in chrome. The accompanying emotion was fear. So, robots bad. This would not bode well for Ivan, except that when Ivan drew a picture of himself as a robot, he got a sense of negation. Was he then grouped with the chrome beings?

  The weird thing was that the chrome things looked like animals. Or, well, statues of animals. Had they gone through the same process as he did? Did that mean they were sentient? Was he looki
ng at a catalog of intelligent species?

  It was confusing, and slow going.

  One of the more interesting images consisted of a bunch of the artificial beings descending on Earth, and a bunch of dishwasher mechs flying out to meet them. Besides the obvious problem that dishwashers couldn’t fly, the meeting seemed to be peaceful. Maybe even joyous. So the artificial life forms were coming to free the dishwashers?

  That couldn’t be right.

  Then, suddenly, a single word formed in his head.

  War.

  Well, that was good. It meant that verbal communication was possible, at least in principle. The bad news was the choice for that first word. Most likely it wasn’t coincidence.

  Then a bunch of chrome Ivans flew out and did battle with the Dishwasher Liberation Front. He couldn’t keep from laughing. The computer was obviously seeing everything Ivan saw, including an old Avengers movie from the early 21st century that he had watched. The fighting was both over the top and physically impossible.

  But it raised some issues. Was Ivan part of the Dishwasher Oppression Empire? There were definitely two groups, but no clear idea of motives or who were the good guys. If he’d still been human, Ivan was sure he’d have a headache by now.

  One thing was certain—this wasn’t a straightforward good-vs.-evil thing. The computer in his head might have humanity’s best interests in mind, or it might just need more cannon fodder. Ivan would have to play this very close to the vest, until he had some clarity on where the greatest danger lay.

  * * *

  Communications continued to improve over the next several hours. Ivan lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. In his mind’s eye, a three-dimensional representation of his room gave him details that he couldn’t possibly have seen. The area under his bunk, spaces between the walls, and the wiring and plumbing conduits were as visible to him as if the walls had been made of glass. Glowing spots and trails indicated the positions of nanites, on and in the walls.