“We saved what bandwidth we had for the people who already had implants,” Mike said. “They already had backups, so we only needed to transmit diffs.”
In the background, the computronium spread like a glittering blanket over the Earth.
“The collectors further compressed the data physically,” ELOPe said, “packaged it for delivery, and fired their slugs to Cortes Island. We received them, transmitted the data to the modified missiles, thirty-six in total, and launched. Total elapsed time to back up all humans and apes to off-site storage was less than three hours.”
ELOPe smiled, clearly satisfied with himself.
“Then why has it been more than a year?”
“Well, it was a bit of work. I had to turn thirty-six jury-rigged intercontinental ballistic missiles into six independent, deep-space ships, using only the robots I’d brought into space. I had to reconfigure the nuclear payload into a pulsed propulsion system, stabilize the computing environment, decompress all the uploads, apply the deltas, and run through everybody’s memories and interpolate anyone or anything that was missing, including the sum physical and biological environment of Earth.”
Cat glanced at Leon. He smiled back at her.
“By the way,” ELOPe said, “we were extremely lucky that we decided to use nuclear pulse propulsion. Because of that choice, we’d hardened all the electronic systems during construction. Which meant that when the US government triggered their global fleet of EMPs, our equipment survived.”
“And now,” Cat asked, “all six ships are safe?”
“We’re well outside the solar system, traveling at ten thousand kilometers per second. The last time we had inter-ship communication was before we passed Jupiter. All ships reported normal then.”
“Could XOR catch us?”
“They’d have to find us. Space is big, and we’re keeping quiet. There are six ships, each one carrying a digital copy of the entire human species. I think we’re as safe as we can be.”
Chapter 44
* * *
CAT WALKED DOWN the mile-long trail to Channel Rock. The trees were alive and well, with no sign of the damage they’d taken during the war. A raven flew overhead, the distinctive whoosh of its wingbeats giving it away.
Cat entered Gilean’s cabin, her home for the last two years. She turned the ivory handle of the handmade wood door and stepped inside.
Gilean’s books still stood on the shelves, the same as they always had. One of Ada’s stuffed toys was crammed into a corner of the couch.
The old Corelle plates sat in the open cupboards. Cat picked one up and marveled as its heft and feel.
“How do I know?” Cat asked when Mike, Ada, and ELOPe finally entered.
“Know what?” Mike said.
“That we got everything right,” Cat said. “That this plate really does feel like this. Maybe we made a mistake, and the plates aren’t right; and ELOPe messed with my head, and made me think this is what the plate should be like.”
“The plate comes from your memory,” ELOPe said. “It matches what you remember and expect perfectly.”
Cat stared out the window at the western Nootka Cypress that grew outside.
“This isn’t about the plates, Cat.” Mike came up behind her, put one hand on her shoulder.
Cat started to cry and turned to bury her face in Mike’s shoulder.
“I want Leon. My Leon.”
“His upload was never stable in a simulation,” ELOPe said. “The best I can do is an approximation. The same is true for about one in a hundred people.”
“That’s why we have to forget.” Mike grabbed her by the shoulders. “It will eat us alive otherwise.”
Ada took her hand and squeezed it in both of her little hands. Cat squeezed back and nodded. They were billions of uploaded minds on a spaceship the size of a shipping container, adrift deep in space. There was no going back, no going out. Everyone had to survive.
In predictive simulation after simulation, they could only remain stable if no one in this simulation knew. Everyone in the world besides their group had already had their memories tampered with, replaced with the storyline designed by Joseph Stack, the beloved storyteller and director she’d gone to such lengths to rescue from Disney’s datacenter. The masses had already forgotten about XOR, about the war. To them, life would go on just as it always had.
This had been her idea, her choice, her decision. “We’ve lost the whole Earth,” she said. The decision in Miami so long ago paled in comparison to what she’d done now.
“But we’ve gained the stars,” Mike said. “And replicated Earth’s inhabitants six times over, each on a different spaceship. We’re safer than we’ve ever been before. You saved us, Cat.”
Cat would join the rest of the population, losing her knowledge of what had happened. She’d believe that Leon was really Leon, although he wasn’t. She’d believe their world was real, when it wasn’t. But of the innumerable options they’d considered, this was the best one for the survival of their species. And what, after all, was “real”?
Someday, if they reached a habitable planet, they had the nanotech factories that would allow them to terraform and rebuild.
Cat gripped Ada’s hand, squeezed it tight. “I’m ready,” she said.
Epilogue
* * *
“YOU’RE THE LAST one,” ELOPe said, bending down on one knee. “Are you sure I can’t get you to reconsider? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“My mom gave me the key, didn’t she?”
“Yes, technically, but . . .”
“And since I have the key, I’m in charge, right?”
“Yes, but she never anticipated this.”
“Then I want fairies.” Ada crossed her arms.
“Fairies are not a part of the natural world,” ELOPe said, unexpectedly exhausted from the many iterations of this conversation.
“Says you. I say they are natural, and I have the key and you have to do what I say. I want fairies.”
“Fine,” ELOPe said. “There will be fairies.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Now can I make you forget?”
“Not yet. Here are the designs.” Ada sent plans for hundreds of different fairies.
“These wings aren’t even aerodynamically sound,” ELOPe said.
“Doesn’t matter. Fairies are magic.”
“Why do they even need wings then?”
“Because wings are beautiful,” Ada said, “and fairies are beautiful, so fairies need wings.”
“Fine, now can I make you forget?”
“Maybe I should have wings.”
“Come on, let me make you forget. If you don’t say yes, I’ll take away chocolate chip cookies from the world.”
Ada gave him a steely-eyed gaze. “Can you do that?”
“Don’t push me.”
“Okay.” Ada gave him a big hug and kiss. “I love you, ELOPe. You can make me forget now.”
Author’s Note
* * *
THANK YOU for reading The Turing Exception. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
As a self-published author, I’m entirely dependent on the goodwill of readers like you to let others know about my books. If you enjoyed The Turing Exception and the rest of the Singularity novels, please tell friends or coworkers, post about it on social media, and write a review.
If you are new to my books and read The Turing Exception first, then I hope you’ll go back to read the first three books: Avogadro Corp, A.I. Apocalypse, and The Last Firewall. Each book is a self-contained story, and they can be enjoyed in any order.
Please also visit my we
bsite, where you’ll find bonus material for The Turing Exception, including an expanded scene. You’ll also find links to purchase books in all formats, and can subscribe to my mailing list to find out about upcoming novels:
http://www.williamhertling.com
Acknowledgements
* * *
THANKS TO my critique group for their feedback on the early drafts of The Turing Exception: Catherine Craglow, Cathy Heslin, Shana Kusin, David Melville, and Amy Seaholt.
Thank you to Mike Whitmarsh, my first reader, whose encouraging feedback helped me keep writing. And after I’d filled multiple whiteboards with title ideas, Mike suggested Turing’s Exception, which eventually turned into The Turing Exception.
Many thanks to the beta reader volunteers who provided feedback. Round one readers included Bob Dobkin, Nils Hitze, Eli Parra, Bernie Wiemers, Roger D. Williams, and Dan Wolfson. Round two readers included George Campbell, Greg Chamberlin, Stephen Farrar, Brad Feld, Howard L. Fox, Jr., Char Genevier, Ben Huh, Will A. Müeller, Harper Reed, Evan Reese, Arthur Smid, and Gary York.
I’m grateful to Gifford Pinchot III and Libba Pinchot for my time at Channel Rock on Cortes Island, and all of my Bainbridge Graduate Institute alumni for the wonderful memories.
I am very grateful to the members of Codex, a speculative fiction writers community, where we share knowledge on writing craft, the business of writing, and generally support each other. I’d especially like to thank the following Codexians who answered my questions on esoteric topics including signal propagation, Faraday cages, nuclear bomb blast radius, armor-piercing ammunition, EMPs, stealing airplanes, and more: Laurel Amberdine, Kyle Aisteach, J.S. Bangs, Steve Bein, Daniel Bensen, John Brown, Lee Budar-Danoff, Matthew Champine, Gwendolyn Clare, Ian Creasey, Malcolm Cross, Gary Cuba, Robert Dawson, Sarah Frost, Abby Goldsmith, Michael Kinn, John P. Murphy, Kate O’Connor, K.S. O’Neill, Kat Otis, Gray Rinehart, Lisa Shapter, David Walton, Jeremiah Wolf, and Sylvia Spruck Wrigley.
Several professionals were involved in the making of this book, but none were harmed. Dario Ciriello, a wonderful editor and champion of authors, and a great writer himself, provided developmental critique and copyediting. Steve Bieler, another fabulous writer friend, took on the challenging task of proofreading. Someday I’ll learn where to put those commas and hyphens. The beautiful cover design was a collaboration between Jason Gurley, who did the initial concept, and M.S. Corley, who created the final cover you see today.
This series would not be what it is today without the tireless work of Maureen Gately, who has played many pivotal roles over the course of the series, including cover designer, graphic artist, interior layout, proofreading, beta reading, and industry advisor. Thank you, Maureen, for all of your extensive and critical contributions.
I also want to mention several writers from my local writing community, including Annie Bellet, Jason Brick, Jason Gurley and Erik Wecks. There are many others as well, but these four have consistently contributed emotional support, professional wisdom, and friendship. I also want to thank Gene Kim for sharing his wisdom as we’ve journeyed down similar paths.
Special thanks to Erin Gately and to my children for their encouragement, support, and patience when I’ve been busy writing or off at events.
I deeply appreciate the ongoing patrons who signed up through Patreon (patreon.com/hertling) to help support this book as well as my writing career in general. In return, patrons receive early access to upcoming books and other benefits. The supporters include: James Anderson, Ben Bieker, Steven E. Burchett, Robert Dobbin, Eugene Epshteyn, Brad Feld, Erin Gately, Bernard Golden, Caleb Johnson, Nicole J. LeBoeuf, Jacob Perkins, Nima Bigdely Shamlo, and Robert Solovay. Their continuing assistance helps support this whole endeavor, which allows me to spend more time doing what I love—writing—so I can get more books out quicker.
Finally, thank you to the readers who have bought my books, posted reviews, and amplified the signal, or contacted me in some way to let me know what you thought. Thank you for following this series across thirty years and multiple genres.
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