Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many

by Dennis E. Taylor

  There were chuckles from the family. News of the raptors had already spread.

  Riker talked to Julia for a few more minutes, fielded some questions from other family members, and got Julia to promise to call him as soon as they were in private residences.

  Then, it was over. As Riker hung up the call, I sat back to bask in the peculiar mix of joy, wistfulness, and melancholy that seeing our family always left me with. I had talked with a few other Bobs about it—it seemed to be a common reaction. I guess Original Bob wasn’t as much of a loner as he’d always claimed.

  I signed off of the conference call, and turned to Guppy, who had been hovering.

  “What?”

  [Colonel Butterworth wants to talk to you. They’ve caught a parasite adult]

  * * *

  Ugly little bugger.

  Hummingbird-size turned out to be a little bit of an exaggeration, but it was still one of the biggest insects I’d ever seen. I didn’t much care for insects, and I had an urge to stomp on this one. It looked like some odd combination of hornet and spider, with two sets of wings. The stinger was particularly nasty-looking. Retractable, it could inject eggs in its victim up to an inch deep.

  I had to turn off my gag reflex, watching the necropsy.

  Well, now we had specifics. I bundled up all the data and shot off an email to Bill, asking for suggestions. Then I connected to Butterworth.

  “Howard. You’ve seen our new neighbor?”

  “Yeah, not my favorite creature. I’ve sent something off to Bill, and I’ve got a couple dozen new drones ready. I’ll program them with the data and get them to scan the area. See what we come up with.”

  Butterworth nodded and disconnected.

  The colonel looked outwardly calm, but I knew this was worrying him. Big things like raptors, we could handle. Small stuff, not so much. Humanity could conceivably end up prisoners in their own homes if we didn’t get control of this pest.

  21. Attacks Continue

  Riker

  December 2174

  Sol

  “We lost a cargo drone,” Charles said, popping into VR. “There was an explosive package waiting where it landed. As soon it touched down, the bomb went off.”

  He sat down and accepted a coffee from Jeeves. “It was a supply delivery to Vancouver Island. They’ve still got enough of a fishery that they’re not facing immediate starvation, but the loss of equipment and resources is still painful.”

  I looked up and muttered a few choice expletives. “I take it we lost the entire food shipment?”

  Charles nodded. “I thought we had the landing area completely secured. VEHEMENT has already claimed responsibility. They’re getting trickier.”

  A light blinked on my console. Not surprisingly, it was Premier Grady. I accepted the call.

  “We seem to have lost our delivery,” he said without preamble. “I saw the announcement. I do not blame you for this—you could just as soon blame me. However, the problem remains of hungry mouths to feed. What can be done?”

  “Short term, sir, I’m going to put together another delivery. Homer is in your area, so he’ll arrange a time and place over a short-range laser link. No chance of intercepting the communication that way.” I turned to look at Homer. He nodded and disappeared.

  I thought for a second, then turned back to the video call. “Meanwhile, I think that VEHEMENT has graduated to major threat. They’re not going to go away, and they’re no longer just a nuisance.”

  I talked to Grady for a few more moments, going over some backlogged items. Then he looked to his right and announced that he was receiving the connection from Homer. His eyes moved across the video screen for a few moments, then he turned back to me and nodded.

  After he disconnected, Charles said, “We also have the issue of the Florianópolis attacks.”

  “I know, Charles. A lot of people still blame Brazil for the war. I guess they’re taking out their frustrations and getting some revenge. We have a task force going on that already. I just don’t know how hard they’re working on it. There seems to be a lot of sympathy for those terrorist attacks.”

  “Less so for the supply chain attacks, even though fewer lives are lost.” Charles shrugged. “Hits closer to home, I guess.”

  * * *

  There had been sabotage on one of the donuts. Some chemicals had been introduced into the irrigation system and had killed three sections of kudzu before the automated systems caught on and shut everything down for inspection.

  This VEHEMENT group was good. The only people that had legitimate access to the space farms were the Bobs. Since VEHEMENT demonstrably was able to gain access, we had to consider all other means. Ideas for how they might have done it included fake drones controlled by VEHEMENT, stealth devices piggy-backing up from Earth on returning delivery vehicles, or even hacking of our legitimate drones. None of those alternatives really seemed realistic, but then that was the thing about being a good hacker. If people saw it coming, you wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

  I set my AMI monitors to reviewing all traffic for the last month. Even if they found nothing, I was at least eliminating possibilities. I was archiving everything, though, in case I got inspired at some later date. Somewhere in all the communications around Earth, there had to be exchanges between VEHEMENT members.

  I went back to review, yet again, everything in the libraries about cryptography.

  22. Fallout

  Bob

  December 2173

  Delta Eridani

  “Archimedes.”

  Archimedes stopped in mid-step and looked wildly around. “Bawbe?”

  I cancelled the camouflage on the drone for a moment so he could locate it. He grunted an acknowledgement and settled carefully to the ground to sit, leaning against a tree. I brought the drone down to eye level, then re-engaged the camouflage.

  “I don’t think you’re going to be allowed back.” The statement was delivered in a low voice, without looking at the drone. “Since you were banished, there have been no attacks.”

  “That’s because I’ve killed six hippogriffs so far that were heading your way,” I replied. I was irritated, and I let it show in my tone.

  Archimedes looked at the drone, eyes wide. “You’re still protecting us?”

  “You’re still important to me, Archimedes. Especially you and your family. Speaking of which, how is Buster doing?”

  Archimedes smiled fondly. “He wants to help me make tools now. Of course, all he does is bash rocks together, but it’s a start.” He lost the smile and looked down for a moment before continuing, “I’m getting a lot of what you call cold shoulder, still. Some of the other cubs have started to tease Buster. I don’t want you to go away forever, but I can’t have my family affected.”

  “I understand, Archimedes. I still need to get you up to speed with the bow and arrow eventually, but it can wait. The thing to remember is that I didn’t wipe out the hippogriffs, just the local nest. As a species, they’re still out there, and your area is effectively unclaimed territory for them now. You need to be ready to hold them off. At minimum, you need to have a supply of extra spears. And the bows and arrows will give you more range.”

  “Okay. I’ve been playing around with the short spears, uh, arrows. I told people they’re small spears for Buster. They laugh, but they believe me. The bow part, why does it have to be different materials?”

  “Laminated material is stronger and has much better spring. Eventually you’ll glue it, but for now, tying is good enough.”

  We talked for a while longer: plans for new weapons, suggestions for the medicine woman, basic math. I would bring these people out of the stone age one way or another.

  Eventually, Archimedes got up, said goodbye, and headed back to Camelot. It was enough. It was a good day.

  * * *

  Marvin had something to say again. I could always tell. He would open his mouth, then close it, then
try again. I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or not. Last time, it had been hippogriffs. Not a good track record.

  Finally, he managed to squeeze it out. “I think I’m going to be heading out, soon.”

  I froze for almost half a second. “As in, leaving Delta Eridani?”

  “Yeah. Bob, you’ve done a lot with the Deltans, but I think it’s past the point where it needs two of us. This is a caretaker situation, now.” He made a gesture at the video window I’d been watching. “Truthfully, the council kicking you out was probably a good thing for them. They go back to deciding their own destiny. You can still tweak things here and there, but the sky god business really wasn’t healthy. For you or for them.”

  I thought about being offended, getting mad, but the truth was that I’d been having very similar thoughts. I dropped my eyes and nodded. “Still, it won’t be the same without you around to give Guppy bad greeting lines.”

  “Hell, Bob, with SCUT we’re never really out of touch. If I keep my speed below .75 C, my tau won’t go high enough to preclude VR. I might just seem a little groggy to you.”

  “Funny, it still doesn’t feel the same.” I shrugged and paced back and forth a few times in silence. “I guess I understand, though, Marv. It’s always been my project. Luke and Bender knew that.”

  “Sure wish they’d intercept the SCUT plans transmission,” Marvin commented, changing the subject. “It would be nice to know if they’re okay.”

  I nodded and sat down. What a crap year this was turning into.

  On the other hand, SCUT did make things a little easier. There were things to do, and Bobs to talk to.

  I shook my head and sighed. The moping was pointless. I would always be able to find a laundry list of things to be depressed about, if I worked at it. The Deltans were still there, even if they weren’t talking to me at the moment.

  23. VEHEMENT

  Riker

  September 2175

  Sol

  Pieces of space station mingled with desiccated plants and the carcasses of livestock that had been unlucky enough to be living on that donut. The debris had scattered with the explosion, but orbital mechanics and mutual gravity were bringing everything back together.

  Homer’s image floated in the video window. “We’d just brought this one on-line. Six months’ work, gone.”

  I nodded silently. The donuts were Homer’s babies. He’d come up with the idea and head-manned it to completion. This couldn’t be easy for him. “Any announcements?”

  “Yeah. VEHEMENT. The usual crazy-ass rant. Humanity is a cancer, the universe is better off without them, blah, blah.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy. But we’ll get them, one way or another.”

  Homer was silent. His expression said everything. Sadness, anger, confusion. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I felt guilty about all the bad thoughts I’d had about him in the past. He was a fully contributing member of the team, and this was killing him.

  I was concerned about Homer. He had pretty much stopped ribbing me. Hadn’t called me number two in months. In fact, he seemed to have turned all business. I wondered if someone had offended him, but on the one occasion I’d tried to talk to him about it, he just deflected the conversation.

  “We’ve got enough redundancy now that this won’t leave us dead in the water,” I said. “But with the reduced planetside output, it’s going to mean short rations. Or more kudzu.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Homer wasn’t having any. He shrugged, then ended the connection.

  “Guppy, what have we got relating to Farm-6?”

  [Querying AMI team. One moment]

  After a short delay, Guppy continued.

  [No related transmissions detected. No nearby activity except by Heaven vessels]

  Crap. They were covering their tracks too well. “Something will break. Something has to.”

  Guppy didn’t comment. He wasn’t much on encouragement. Huge fishy eyes blinked once.

  * * *

  Just to really make my week, there were several terrorist attacks on Florianópolis as well. I kept wondering if there was some anniversary coming up that was triggering all the activity. The terrorists were getting smarter, and hitting more critical targets. One of the attacks had taken out the power system. It would take a couple of days to fix.

  It wasn’t the first time that the actions of VEHEMENT and the Brazilian attacks seemed to be coordinated. I wondered if there was some connection. It was almost certainly two different groups, but maybe they were talking to each other, sharing intelligence. That could actually be of benefit to me.

  The old Earth, pre-war, had global technology and every form of communications you could imagine. This post-apocalyptic reality was far more limited. There were fewer methods of communication for collusion between the two groups, or even cross-talk between VEHEMENT cells.

  But I’d been monitoring all channels. At least everything I could think of. So either I’d missed some form of communication; or they were using some kind of steganography, which would be almost impossible to recognize unless you knew what you were looking for; or they had gone low-tech.

  Option three would be too slow, number one I couldn’t do anything about, so that left two. Steganography was by definition inefficient, since you had to spread the message out enough for it to be unnoticeable. Therefore the transmission medium would have to allow a high bandwidth, which would immediately rule out a lot of possibilities. And there were statistical methods that could ferret out steganographic messages.

  I retired to my VR, to give this more thought.

  24. Visiting Marvin

  Bob

  March 2174

  Delta Eridani

  I hadn’t had to kill a hippogriff in months. It wasn’t clear if they’d learned to avoid the territory, or if there simply weren’t any left that were close enough to bother the Deltans. Since Marvin’s departure, I was handling all the drones myself. I could automate a certain amount of the tasks, but I still eventually had to review the mission recordings. Honestly, I couldn’t be bothered.

  I kept my eye on Archimedes and his family, probably a little more than I should. I had occasional flashes of myself as the overbearing grandparent who kept wanting to visit. It was an embarrassing image, and I resolved to contact Archimedes a little less often.

  Marvin was long gone, heading for Pi3 Orionis. I think he was hoping for an intelligent species that he could be in charge of. It seemed we actually had a paternal streak. Or maybe maternal. He was, as promised, keeping his top speed low enough so that he could still interface via SCUT connection. We’d found a balance, where he frame-jacked up a bit and I slowed my time-sense some, and we could then interact at the same time-rate. It worked.

  Today, I was visiting Marvin. In Delta Eridani, as senior Bob, I generally played host. It was interesting that traditions and modes of behavior were developing even among a bunch of post-human computers. Generally, the senior Bob in any system was in charge, and played host to the other Bobs. It made sense to me, which meant it pretty much made sense to all the Bobs.

  Marvin apparently had a bit of a luxury streak in him. His VR environment was an open-air patio and rancher-style house at the top of a low mountain, in a semi-tropical climate. The ocean stretched out in all directions, right out to the horizon.

  It was a beautiful, if somewhat mundane scene, except for a couple of anomalies: the very close horizon, the low gravity, and the presence of Earth hanging in the middle of the sky.

  “You know there’s no air on the moon, right?” I grinned at him.

  Marvin shrugged. “I’m going through all the science fiction books I’ve read over the years and replicating the environments for a while. It’s interesting, and it’s good practice at VR programming.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t really important. We were stalling, and we both knew it.

  Finally, I brought up the elephant in the room. “My two newest clones, Pete and Victor, a
re almost ready to leave. Victor is willing to follow the trail of either Luke or Bender. Pete is not interested at all. We have to make a choice.”

  Marvin took a moment to brush his hand through his hair. I remembered that habit from when I was Original Bob. Apparently death wasn’t enough to remove nervous tics.

  “I guess Pete is adamant?” he asked.

  “Yup. Like Milo with Earth. ‘This is the expression of not caring.’ He’s going off in whatever direction he decides on, and that’s that.”

  Marvin chuckled. “A recurring theme. Great. Well, it’s a coin toss, then, isn’t it?”

  “The thing is, Marv, what if something bad happened to both Luke and Bender? They were heading for different stars, but in the same general direction. What if they ran into something?”

  “What, like the Borg? It just seems unlikely, Bob. What would be the motive?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe another Medeiros. We don’t really have any information.” I shrugged, conceding the point. “Well, we’ll leave it up to Victor. He’ll transmit constantly over SCUT, so we’ll know if something happens to him.”

  Marvin nodded, a worried look on his face.

  25. Rabbits

  Howard

  November 2189

  Vulcan

  There was a call on my queue from one of the biologists. I was a little surprised. Normally I talked only to Butterworth—not there was a rule or anything. Still… curious, I dialed the call.

  “Sheehy.” A woman appeared on screen for a moment, then disappeared off frame. I got an impression of thick red hair, tied into a ponytail.

  “Dr. Sheehy? This is Howard Johansson, returning your call.”

  Her disembodied voice drifted back to the phone. “Oh, thanks for getting back to me. Colonel Butterworth wanted me to call you if we had news. We have news.”

  I waited for a moment. “And…”

  She returned and grinned into the video. “Sorry. I love the drama. Anyway, we have a possible treatment for the vine.”