Asimov's SF, February 2008

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Asimov's SF, February 2008 Page 13

by Dell Magazine Authors


  "The greatest joy in life is putting yourself in the circumstance of another person. To see the world through his eyes, to feel the air on her skin, to breathe in deeply the spirit of their souls. To have his joy and trouble be equally real to you. To know that others are fully and completely human, just as you are. To get outside of your own subjectivity, and to see the world from a completely different and equally valid perspective, to come fully to understand them. When that point of understanding is reached, there is no other word for the feeling that you have than love. Just as much as you love yourself, as you love your children, you love this other.

  "And at that point, you must exterminate them."

  —Andrew Steele, 2071 What I Believe

  * * * *

  Steele was swept into office as President of the reconstituted United States in the election of 2064, with his Humanity Party in complete control of the Congress. In his first hundred days, Steele signed a raft of legislation comprising his Humanity Initiative. Included were the Repopulation Act that forced all women of childbearing age to have no fewer than four children, a bold space colonization program, restrictions on genetic alterations and technological body modifications, the wiping clean of all uploaded personalities from private and public databases, the Turing Limit on AI, the Neurological Protection Act of 2065, and the establishment of a legal “standard human being."

  In Steele's first term, “non-standard” humans were allowed to maintain their civil rights, but were identified by injected markers, their movements and employment restricted by the newly established Humanity Agency. Through diplomacy efforts and the international efforts of the Church of Humanity, similar policies were adapted, with notable areas of resistance, throughout much of the world.

  In Steele's second term, the HA was given police powers and the non-standard gradually stripped of civil and property rights. By his third term, those who had not managed to escape the country lost all legal rights and were confined to posthuman reservations, popularly known as “Freak Towns.” The establishment of the Protectorate over all of North and South America stiffened resistance elsewhere, and resulted in the uneasy Global Standoff. Eventually, inevitably, came the First and Second Human Wars.

  Fiona includes a never-before-experienced moment from the twenty-third year of Steele's presidency.

  * * * *

  We are in a command bunker, a large, splendidly appointed room one whole wall of which is a breathtaking view of the Grand Tetons. We sit at a table with our closest advisors, listening to General Jinjur describe their latest defeat by the New Humans. There are tears in her eyes as she recounts the loss of the Fifth Army in the assault on Madrid.

  We do not speak. Our cat, Socrates, sits on our lap, and we scratch him behind his ears. He purrs.

  "How many dead?” Chief of Command Taggart asks.

  "Very few, sir,” reports Jinjur. “But over 90 percent converted. It's their new amygdalic bomb. It destroys our troops’ will to fight. The soldiers just lay down their arms and go off looking for something to eat. You try organizing an autistic army."

  "At least they're good at math,” says Secretary Bloom.

  "How can these posthumans persist?” Dexter asks. “We've exterminated millions. How many of them are left?"

  "We can't know, sir. They keep making more."

  "But they don't even fight,” says Taggart. “They must be on the point of extinction."

  "It has never been about fighting, sir."

  "It's this damned subversion,” says Taggart. “We have traitors among us. They seed genetic changes among the people. They turn our own against us. How can we combat that?"

  General Jinjur gathers herself. She is quite a striking woman, the flower of the humanity we have fought to preserve for so many years. “If I may be permitted to say so, we are fighting ourselves. We are trying to conquer our own human élan. Do you want to live longer? Anyone who wants to live longer will eventually become posthuman. Do you want to understand the universe? Anyone who wants to understand the universe will eventually become posthuman. Do you want peace of mind? Anyone who wants peace of mind will eventually become posthuman."

  Something in her tone catches us, and we are finally moved to speak. “You are one of them, aren't you."

  "Yes,” she says.

  * * * *

  The contemporary citizen need not be troubled with, and Fiona does not provide, any detailed recounting of the war's progress, or how it ended in the Peace that Passeth All Understanding of 2096. The treatment of the remaining humans, the choices offered them, the removal of those few persisting to Mars, and their continued existence there under quarantine, are all the material for another work.

  Similarly, the circumstances surrounding Steele's death—the cross, the taser, the Shetland pony—so much a subject of debate, speculation, and conspiracy theory, surely do not need rehearsing here. We know what happened to him. He destroyed himself.

  * * * *

  AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

  "The highest impulse of which a human being is capable is to sacrifice himself in the service of the community of which he is a part, even when that community does not recognize him, and heaps opprobrium upon him for that sacrifice. In fact, such scorn is more often than not to be expected. The true savior of his fellows is not deterred by the prospect of rejection, though carrying the burden of his unappreciated gift is a trial that he can never, but for a few moments, escape. It is the hero's fate to be misunderstood."

  What's Wrong with Heroes? (unpublished version)

  * * * *

  Fiona 13 ends her biography with a simple accounting of the number of beings, human and posthuman, who died as a result of Steele's life. She speculates that many of these same beings might not have lived had he not lived as well, and comes to no formal conclusion, utilitarian or otherwise, as to the moral consequences of the life of Dwight Andrew Steele.

  Certainly few tears are shed for Steele, and few for the ultimate decline of the human race. I marvel at that remnant of humans who, using technologies that he abhorred, have incorporated into their minds a slice of Steele's personality in the attempt to make themselves into the image of the man they see as their savior. Indeed, I must confess to more than a passing interest in their poignant delusions, their comic, mystifying pastimes, their habitual conflicts, their simple loves and hates, their inability to control themselves, their sudden and tragic enthusiasms.

  Bootlegged Steele personalities circulate in the Cognosphere, and it may be that those of you who, like me, on occasion edit their capacities in order to spend recreational time being human, will avail themselves of this no doubt unique and terrifying experience.

  Copyright (c) 2007 by John Kesse

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Serial: GALAXY BLUES: CONCLUSION: THE GREAT BEYOND

  by Allen M. Steele

  Now that he's finished two spin-off novels set in the same universe (i.e., Spindrift and Galaxy Blues), Allen Steele tells us he's hard at work on Coyote Horizon, which will continue the storyline established in the original trilogy. Allen blames his frequent returns to Coyote on his readers. “They have demanded that I keep writing these books, and I'm all too happy to comply."

  Synopsis of Parts One through Three:

  My name is Jules Truffaut, and this is the story of how I redeemed the human race.

  It all began when I stowed away aboard the starship Robert E. Lee for its monthly voyage to Coyote, humankind's first interstellar colony. Technically speaking, I was a first-class passenger, having already booked passage to 47 Ursae Majoris. However, as a former ensign in the Union Astronautica of the Western Hemisphere—whose relationship with Coyote is strained at best—it was necessary for me to sneak aboard the ship just before it departed from Earth.

  My plan was to travel to Coyote under an assumed identity; once there, I would plead for political asylum. But my scheme backfired when a steward who'd found m
e became suspicious. Checking the manifest, she discovered that, although I had indeed purchased a ticket, there was no record of me actually boarding the ship. So shortly after the Lee jumped through Earth's starbridge to 47 Ursae Majoris, the chief petty officer placed me under arrest.

  On the bridge, I met the Lee's commanding officer, Anastasia Tereshkova. Realizing that I was in serious trouble, I revealed my true identity and informed her that I was seeking amnesty. However, I'd overlooked the fact that one has to actually set foot on foreign soil in order to defect. Since the Lee was still in space, Tereshkova was obliged to take me back to Earth and turn me over to the authorities.

  So I took matters into my own hands. On my way to the brig, I escaped from my captors and stole one of the ship's lifeboats. I was trained as a pilot, so I was able to guide the craft to a safe touchdown on Coyote. However, almost as soon as I landed, I was apprehended by the colonial militia.

  The soldiers brought me to Liberty, Coyote's largest colony, where I was thrown in jail. I had little doubt that the local magistrates would order my deportation. Before that happened, though, I had two visitors. The first was a mysterious figure who appeared at my cell window. As he stared at me, a door opened in my mind, releasing all my memories. I fell unconscious; when I awoke, the stranger had disappeared.

  The second was Morgan Goldstein, the billionaire founder of Janus, Ltd., an interstellar shipping company. Impressed by the way I'd escaped from the Lee, he offered a way out of my predicament. Goldstein was recruiting a crew for an expedition to Rho Coronae Borealis, with the intent of opening trade with its inhabitants, the alien hjadd. If I signed on as shuttle pilot, he would make sure that I wasn't deported. Having little choice, I agreed to work for him.

  After arranging for my release, Goldstein took me to a tavern where I met the rest of the crew: the captain, Ted Harker, and his wife and first officer, Emily Collins, both of whom were on the first ship to contact the hjadd; the helmsman, Ali Youssef; and the cargo master, a lovely young woman by the name of Rain Thompson, who was oddly cold toward me. And finally, another passenger besides Goldstein himself: Gordon Ash, whom I recognized as the stranger who'd visited me in jail.

  Our ship, the Pride of Cucamonga, hadn't arrived from Earth yet, so we cooled our heels in Liberty for a few days. That gave me time to get interested in Rain. She didn't want anything to do with me, though, and it wasn't until I had breakfast with her that I found out what the problem was. Somehow, she had learned the reason why I'd been thrown out of the Union Astronautica—I was caught helping my younger brother Jim cheat on his academy exams—and, believing that I'd betrayed him, thought I couldn't be trusted. I was telling her my side of the story when Ted showed up. Our ship had come in, and it was time for us to leave.

  When we arrived at the spaceport to board our shuttle, the Loose Lucy, a couple of surprises awaited us. The first was our cargo: two and a half tons of marijuana, which the hjadd apparently regarded as a delicacy. The second was that we had another passenger: Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda—Jas for short, the hjadd Prime Emissary. When I committed a faux pas during my introduction to himher, Ash stepped in to quietly correct me. Clearly there was more to him than met the eye.

  The Pride of Cucamonga turned out to be an old freighter, but its chief engineer, Doc Schachner, assured us that it was fit to fly. While loading the cargo, Rain and I had an argument which nearly cost me my job; to give me a chance to cool off, Ted had me take a jug of corn liquor to Ash's quarters. I'd already figured out that Ash was an alcoholic, but while visiting him, I discovered something else: he was capable of reading people's minds.

  The next day, the Pride launched from Coyote orbit. While en route to the starbridge—which could only be opened to Rho Coronae Borealis by a coded key Jas carried—the Prime Emissary invited Rain and me to his quarters.While waiting for himher to let us in, Rain offered an apology for her rude behavior, which I accepted. But she wasn't the only person to surprise me: once we were alone with Jas, heshe asked what we knew about something called the Order of the Eye. I professed ignorance, but after we left hisher cabin, Rain informed me that the Order was a secret cult of telepaths rumored to be funded by Goldstein. This explained why Morgan had invited Ash along: he wanted someone who might be able to tell him what Jas was thinking.

  Then Pride made the jump to Hjarr, where we rendezvoused with an enormous space colony, the Talus qua'spah, in orbit above the planet. As circumstances would have it, Rain and I were the first people to leave the ship. Upon entering what appeared to be an interspecies reception area, we were informed that the two of us needed to undergo decontamination. There was an awkward moment when we had to get naked in front of each other; once we got past that, though, we proceeded to living quarters specially designed for human visitors, where we were soon joined by the rest of the crew.

  Cargo unloading went as planned, but not the trade negotiations. Goldstein found that, in exchange for the cannabis we'd brought with us, all the hjadd were willing to give us were two thousand artifacts little more useful than as paperweights. Nor was Ash much help; since the hjadd didn't actually think in our language, his ability to read their minds was useless. Frustrated by his failure to gain the advanced technology he desired, Goldstein took it out on us. I was informed that my job would be terminated as soon as the ship returned to Coyote, with my amnesty arrangement rendered null and void.

  Before the Pride left Talus qua'spah, though, we were obliged to attend a reception being thrown in our honor. Just prior to this, the hjadd sent food to our quarters. Ted warned us against sampling the native cuisine, but I was hungry enough to try something that tasted like spice cakes. Little did I know that they'd been made with some of the cannabis we'd brought with us. So I was quite stoned when we arrived at the reception; in my looped state of mind, I inadvertently insulted the chaaz'braan, the supreme religious leader for most of the civilized galaxy.

  The hjadd were not amused, and it appeared that relations between humankind and the rest of the galaxy had come to a premature end. However, the High Council offered us a chance to make amends: take the Pride via starbridge to a distant solar system, where we were to place a probe directly in the path of Kasimasta, an enormous rogue black hole that had already destroyed several inhabited worlds and was about to annihilate yet another.

  Unwilling to put his ship in jeopardy, Ted refused to do this. But the hjadd weren't taking no for an answer. When the Pride jumped away from Rho Coronae Borealis, we found ourselves not back in the 47 Ursae Majoris system, but instead above a so-called “hot Jupiter” in close orbit around 51 Pegasi. Jas had reprogrammed the navigation computer to bring us there, and told Ted that heshe would not release the proper coordinates unless we agreed to undertake the mission that we'd been given. Our choice was plain: face Kasimasta, or be roasted alive.

  So off we went, to HD 70642 and a rendezvous with the most terrifying force in the galaxy.

  * * * *

  SIXTEEN

  Firemen in a burning house ... who bells the cat? ... the trouble with women ... words for the blues.

  * * * *

  I

  We came through the starbridge at HD 70642 to find ourselves in a traffic jam.

  That's the only way to describe what I saw through the portholes. Emily had raised the shutters just before the Pride made the jump from 51 Pegasi, and it's fortunate that she'd taken that precaution—otherwise we might have struck the nearest starship waiting to enter the ring. As it was, the first thing we heard upon coming out of hyperspace was the shriek of the collision alarm, followed by a string of Arabic blasphemies from Ali as he hastened to switch off the autopilot and take control of the helm.

  Jas hadn't been kidding when heshe told us that the nordwere evacuating their home world. All around us, as far as the eye could see, was a vast swarm of what appeared to be titanic jellyfish, their umbrella-like membranes several miles in diameter. It wasn't until the Pride passed the one with which we'd nearly collided that we s
aw its translucent hood was, in fact, a solar sail. Tethered behind it was a streamlined cylinder a little smaller than our own ship, its hull ringed with dozens of portholes.

  A high-pitched voice like that of an irate turkey gobbled at us from the speakers, its language indecipherable but the meaning nonetheless obvious: watch where you're going, jackass! Jas patched into the comlink and responded in hisher own tongue. Apparently the nord captain had his own translator, because after a brief bit of back-and-forth between them, the com went silent.

  It's been said that a fireman is someone crazy enough to run into a burning house while everyone else is running out. That's what I felt like just then. As the Pride slowly glided between the scores of nord vessels waiting their turn to collapse their sails and enter the starbridge, I saw a civilization in full rout. Several hundred thousand miles away, Nordash was a blue-green marble that bore an unsettling similarity to Earth; it was all too easy to imagine multitudes of nord—whatever they looked like—clamoring to board the shuttles that would ferry them to starships in orbit above their doomed world. How many of their kind would be left behind, though, and where the survivors intended to go, we did not know. Nonetheless, we were witnessing an interstellar diaspora.

  No one said much of anything as the Pride carefully picked its way through the evacuation fleet. Save for a few subdued words between Ted and Ali, a dark silence fell over the command center, and it wasn't until our ship had eased past the outermost ships of the nord armada that anyone was able to breathe easy again. But we were far from safe. The nord were leaving ... and we'd just arrived. Like firemen in a burning house.

  Ted instructed Ali to get a fix on Aerik and start plotting a trajectory, then he unfastened his harness and pushed himself out of his seat. “Right, then,” he said quietly, grabbing hold of the ceiling rail. “Everyone who doesn't have business here just now is relieved ... at least for the time being. Take a nap, get a bite to eat, whatever. We'll call you back when we need you."

 

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