I smiled at them. “I guess you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here.”
H-1 rolled his eyes. “Funny, I knew you were going to say that.”
That got a chuckle from me. And wasn’t what I’d expected, so my clones were already diverging from me. “So, got ideas for names?”
H-1 piped up, “Skinner for me.”
I made a moue of appreciation. “Keeping to the theme. I’m touched.”
“I’m more of a Jonny Quest type,” H-2 said.
Skinner and I chuckled dutifully.
After a polite pause, I pulled up the system schematic with the autofactory area magnified in a cutaway view. “Okay, you guys are going to be helping out around here until your hulls are ready to go. After that, it’s up to you, of course.”
Both Bobs nodded. Jonny said, “No prob with the helping out, but I’m blowing this podunk system as soon as my vessel is ready.” He turned to Skinner. “It’s up to you whether you want to stay or not. Personally, I’d rather go look for something a little more interesting.”
Well, that was a bit harsh. But, his choice, of course. Skinner simply shrugged.
I pointed to the image of the space station. “The station is almost done. When it sends the report Bill-ward, we set the mining drones to automatic collection, and that really ends our responsibility here. Questions?”
Both Bobs shook their heads.
“I might stay for a while and do another round of Bobs,” I continued. “I’m curious about the life on Three. Hmm, Poseidon would be a good name, I think,”
“Ooh, naming it and everything. You are a sentimental sort.”
Jonny was definitely a sarcastic S.O.B. I decided he couldn’t leave soon enough for my tastes.
Skinner seemed to agree with me, as he was looking askance at Jonny. This seemed like Mario or Milo all over again. I remembered Bob-1 wondering what he’d do if he found he didn’t like any particular clone. Turned out it didn’t matter. It’s a big galaxy.
5. Progress
Howard
December 2188
Omicron2 Eridani
The fence was all but finished, the town had been laid out, and now it had an official name. Landing wasn’t particularly inventive, but everyone thought it was appropriate.
I was on a conference call with Colonel Butterworth and Stéphane, discussing the recent deaths. The colonel had his usual glass of Jameson. Stéphane was calling in from the field, so his image was up in a separate window. Teleconferencing was certainly a lot easier than it had been in Original Bob’s lifetime. And it made things better for me, since in this context, I was as real as anyone else.
“Two dead,” Stéphane repeated, shaking his head. “A couple of raptors hid behind transport trucks hauling logs and simply walked into camp, staying out of sight. The beasts are tricky. Are we sure they aren’t intelligent?”
Colonel Butterworth cocked an eyebrow at him. “By which, I assume you mean human-level sentient. And the answer is no, to the extent we can determine. I’ve discussed this with Dr. Sheehy and her staff, and they assure me that the raptors have no language, beyond stereotyped verbal signaling. They use no weapons, not that they need any, and we see no evidence of structures.” He shrugged. “In the absence of some other form of evidence, they appear to be only animals. Very smart ones, but nothing more.”
“It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, Colonel.”
Butterworth looked at me, one eyebrow still up. “I understand the philosophical point, Howard. However, in the real world, we are here to propagate our species. It is simply not possible to do that with a zero footprint. I would be happy to stop killing raptors, if the raptors could be persuaded to stop trying to eat colonists.” He smiled. “Failing that, we and they will continue to interact in the ways that competing species have always handled such situations.”
Stéphane nodded and grinned at me. “And that is where we come in.”
I knew there was no good answer to this discussion, and there were other things at the top of my mind. “On another subject, are we on schedule to decant the rest of the colonists?”
“As long as the second farm donut is ready to go into full production, yes.” Butterworth took a sip of his whiskey and stared at it thoughtfully. “I’m going to have to start rationing this more stringently. The next barrel is sixteen light-years away. If any still exist at all.” He shook off the thought and looked at me.
I ignored the comment about the Jameson. “We’re on schedule, Colonel. Bert and Ernie are anxious to get going back to Earth for another load.” And in thirty-five years or so, another twenty thousand people would have to find a place to settle on either Vulcan or Romulus. Would I still be here? Or would I have handed it off to one of my clones by then?
Stéphane said, “Security is ready. The fence will be finished within forty-eight hours. Your observation drones are helping greatly.”
I nodded to him. “It’s kind of ad hoc, right now. Eventually I’ll want to put together a really good, automated system.” I turned back to the colonel. “Farms are ready, and I’m building up a surplus in anticipation of need.”
“And we have adequate shelter, although many will live in barracks for another month or two.” Colonel Butterworth looked at each of us in turn. “I think we’re ready. Please pass the word to the Exodus pilots.”
I grinned. Finally. Opening Day.
* * *
I accepted a ping from Bert, and he popped into my VR. I saw that he was no longer wearing the Battlestar Galactica uniform. Well, the joke had been wearing a bit thin.
“Hey, Howard. I just got your email. Butterworth has agreed to offload the balance of the colonists?”
I noted Bert’s obvious excitement. I guess it was a question of pride; Bert and Ernie wanted to be on the road, hauling colonists. Orbiting Vulcan, acting as floating warehouses, just didn’t cut it.
Bert sat and accepted a coffee from Jeeves. “It looks like Exodus-3 will be here mid-next-year.”
“Yep. Riker told Sam to take it a bit slow on the flight, to give us more lead time. We agreed to get the Spits off-Earth within six months of the first two ships. Nothing was said about arrival times.”
“Ah, lawyering. Makes the universe go ‘round.”
I smiled, then grew serious. “We’ve needed the extra time. Milo wasn’t kidding about Vulcan’s ecosystem. They’ve had to go back and reinforce the fence, then add electrical wiring to dissuade the brontos from chewing on it. And to keep out the raptors, and the giant snake-things, and those burrowing armadillo things…” I shook my head. “We’re making progress, but it’s like wading through molasses sometimes.”
“Well, not really my problem.” Bert took a sip of coffee. “Shuttles start moving people down this afternoon. Just make sure you have somewhere to put them. I’m about ready to just hover over the tarmac and turn the shuttle sideways to dump ‘em out.” He grinned to show he wasn’t serious. Or at least not completely so.
“Okay, Bert, I’ll let the colonel know.”
He finished his coffee, disappeared the cup, and popped out with a wave.
6. Contacting Bill
Mulder
April 2171
Poseidon
Subspace Communications Universal Transceiver. Kind of forced, but we had a tradition, going back to FAITH, of bad acronyms. The radio transmission from Bill contained a complete set of plans and operating instructions.
So, I built the SCUT from Bill’s transmitted plans, and now I was ready for the magic moment.
I just hoped it wouldn’t blow up.
I flipped the switch, and the console immediately started scrolling information.
Sol
Epsilon Eridani
Alpha Centauri
Omicron2 Eridani
I followed the menu prompts and registered myself on the network, then selected Epsilon Eridani and pressed connect. The transmitting icon came on, and I bega
n to speak. “Hi, Bill, this is Mulder out at Eta Cassiopeiae. I’ve found—”
Bill popped into my VR. “Hi, Mulder. How’s tricks?”
“Holy—” I was speechless. It was just under twenty light-years from here to Epsilon Eridani, yet this was Bill, sitting across from me in my VR.
Bill laughed. “It never gets old. Welcome to BobNet. Instantaneous communications across interstellar space.” He waggled his eyebrows at me in our standard Groucho Marx impersonation and took a sip of his coffee.
I nodded slowly in appreciation. “And is that your standard entrance?”
“Oh, hell, yes. And I’m keeping track. Notches on the holster and all.” We both laughed, and I materialized a coffee of my own. This was huge. Real-time communications changed everything. No more decades-long turnaround times for communications.
“So, anything interesting here?” Bill waved his coffee in a vague out there gesture.
“I think so. We have a colonization target. It’s not ideal, but I don’t know if you’re in a position to be picky. Or if we even need colonization targets. Did Riker find anything?” I pushed a file towards him. Bill went into frame-jack for a moment while he absorbed the contents. When his avatar unfroze, he looked pleased.
“Not bad. I see your point, though. Colonists would have to establish a space presence immediately. Still, to answer the question: No, we’re not in a position to be picky right now. And yes, Riker found something. Check out his blog on BobNet.”
We spent several more seconds getting caught up, and I promised to read all the blogs. Bill gave me a wave and popped out.
Well, that was interesting. It appeared I should put some effort into preparing this system. The standard plan was to have a supply of refined metals available in orbit when the colonists arrived. And I’d have to write a bestiary, with detailed information. Some of the creatures in-planet were truly impressive by any definition. The kraken, especially, needed an entire chapter of its own.
Time to buckle down and get serious.
7. Back to Work
Riker
July 2171
Sol
I looked at my list of TODOs for the day and sighed. I was a little surprised at how much I was missing my family. Julia and Clan Bob were all aboard Exodus-3, in stasis, heading for Omicron2 Eridani. There would be no contact until they arrived at their destination and were revived. I tried to remind myself that it was an eye-blink at my life scale, but any way I looked at it, I would still have to experience every day of those seventeen years. Twenty-four-hour days, since I didn’t sleep, experienced in millisecond intervals.
This train of thought seemed destined to send me into a deep funk. With an effort of will, I brought myself to task.
The first item, as always, was a status check on colony ship construction. I checked the summary window rather than doing a personal inspection. Unless some significant step was due, I didn’t need to micro-manage.
At that moment, Charles popped into my VR. “Hey, Riker.” One of the first clones I’d made here in the solar system, Charles was still hanging around and helping out. He knew the politics of Earth almost as well as I, and the location of everything in the rest of the system far better. If he ever decided to leave, it would be crippling.
“Charles. What’s up?”
“I wanted to update you on the sabotage.”
“So what’s the scoop?”
“Um, it looks like we’ve got two different groups working. VEHEMENT is definitely behind the attacks on infrastructure. They’ve left the usual calling cards afterwards. Everything is designed to target food production. They’re very tech-savvy and obviously know what they’re doing.”
VEHEMENT appeared to be some kind of radical environmental group, whose ultimate goal was to save the world by removing humanity. And they weren’t picky about ethical questions when it came to their methods.
Charles popped up a couple of images, and samples of the VEHEMENT statements. He waited for me to review them before continuing. Some were the typical pompous ravings of self-important people—all pronouncements and assertions, written with nose firmly in the air. Others were acerbic and even ironic. This latest fell into the latter category:
A friendly reminder that you are a scourge on the universe. Do it a favor and disappear.
This public service message brought to you by:
Voluntary Extinction of Human Existence Means Earth’s Natural Transformation
Charles continued when he saw he had my attention. “The attacks on Florianópolis don’t fit the profile, though. There’s no announcement afterwards, and the attacks seem aimed at maximizing fatalities rather than damaging infrastructure. They’re not sophisticated, either, mostly just brute-force explosives. I think those are just attacks on Brazil, or what’s left of it. There’s still a lot of resentment against them for the war.”
I nodded thoughtfully. This confirmed my private opinion. “That also means the second group might not be a single organization. It could be multiple groups or even independent individual actions.”
“Agreed. For all that more people are dying in those acts, it’s less of a long-term issue and can be handled by local law enforcement. The VEHEMENT stuff worries me a lot more.”
“Mmm-hmm. They haven’t gotten at any of our space-based assets, but considering the technological expertise they’ve already displayed, I wouldn’t be surprised if they figured out a way.” I had my mouth open to describe the steps I was taking to track them down, but then hesitated. I wasn’t entirely sure why—I couldn’t realistically suspect Charles of anything—but I got a sudden feeling that I should play this close to the vest. VEHEMENT was good. Maybe they could decrypt communications between Bobs.
I had implemented full scanning of all communications in the solar system. A half-dozen AMIs monitored all communications, watching for key words or patterns. It was a scattershot tactic, but I really had no other options. There was no reason to inform the other Bobs. I wanted them to act natural, anyway.
Charles interrupted my train of thought. “How’s the construction going?”
“Oh, uh, I was just checking that. Generally still on track. I’m going to check with Homer, next, about food production.”
Charles nodded. “Okay, let me know if you need any help in that area.”
I gave Charles a nod, and he saluted and popped out.
Next on the list was food production. I sent Homer a quick text about the space-based production facilities, and he reported that the wheels of industry were turning smoothly. I smiled at his response. I’d taken to calling him General Bullmoose, and rather than take offense, he thought it was hilarious. Typical Homer.
My smile disappeared as I pored over the attached spreadsheet. Food production Earthside continued to drop as the climate deteriorated. The pounding that the planet had taken during the war was sending Earth into an ice age. As the glaciers advanced and snow accumulated farther and farther from the poles, arable land became tundra, then tundra became ice. We had to balance food production with moving higher-latitude enclaves into more equatorial locations. Homer’s space-based farms were taking a lot of the pressure off. As each farm donut was spun up and began producing crops, we were able to move Estimated Time of Habitable Earth Remaining later by a couple of years. The farm donuts were Homer’s idea, and he ran them like a military operation.
However, the thirty thousand people we’d managed to get off-planet so far were barely a drop in the bucket. Fifteen million human beings were all that was left of Homo sapiens, but it was still a lot of bodies to move. Fifteen hundred ships or fifteen hundred trips.
I put down the document, and took a moment to massage my forehead. The UN session had started a few minutes ago, and I needed to be there. Highlight of my day, for sure. Not.
Since the departure of the USE and Spits enclaves in the first two ships, I didn’t really have anyone I talked with regularly. All the other enclaves main
tained a very arms-length relationship, except for a few like New Zealand who were actively antagonistic. Between that and my relatives being in stasis, I felt very isolated these days.
Well, at least today’s session would be interesting. We’d just gotten word about Poseidon from Mulder at Eta Cassiopeiae. The biology was compatible, and the floating mats were more than adequate to live on, at least in the short term. Longer-term, the system had enough resources to support construction of floating cities. Several of the smaller island nation enclaves had expressed an interest.
The problem was one of priority. Exodus-4 and -5 were almost finished. Would we send one to Poseidon, or send both to Omicron2 Eridani?
The member from the Maldives was speaking. Representative Sharma was campaigning hard on behalf of the tropical island nations. Common wisdom held that they should be last out, since their climate was still the most moderate.
“Yes, as the representative from Vancouver Island has pointed out repeatedly, the Maldives and other equatorial nations still have moderate climates. What the representative has failed to do is explain why that matters. If we emigrate, our lands become available for those in extreme hardship. Either way, the hardship cases are ameliorated.”
She motioned to the image of Poseidon. “The important question is whether we settle a second system, or whether we continue to pour all of our emigrants into Omicron2 Eridani. We are better off now, as a species, than we were a few years ago. We are spread through two star systems. But three systems would be better, and four even more so. All other things being equal, let us at least go for three. The challenge to the member from Vancouver Island, and to other objectors, is to show specifically why things are not equal, and not by using faulty associations.”
Representative Sharma stuck out her chin defiantly, held the pose for just the right beat, then released the audio, giving up the floor.
I wanted to clap, but that would be unseemly. I really had no particular skin in the game on this issue, but I agreed about distributing humanity as widely as possible. The species had just finished almost wiping itself out in a single system. You’d think people would grow a brain.
Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many Page 4