Guppy nodded. I’m sure the expression of sardonic amusement on his face was all in my imagination. After all, what does sardonic amusement look like on a fish, anyway?
And speaking of Bridget, er, Dr. Sheehy, I had a call to make. There was a small matter of a chemical analysis that I’d asked for.
* * *
“Sheehy.” Bridget briefly appeared in the video window, then exited frame to the left. The woman never stayed still, and always seemed to be working on several things at once. I couldn’t help be impressed by her energy.
“Hey, Bridget, it’s Howard.”
Dr. Sheehy’s face lit up as she came back into frame and sat down in front of the phone. We’d become fast friends over the last six months. We got along well, and she was a good break from too many Bobs. I tried not to think ephemeral when she was around.
“I guess you’re calling about that chemical analysis you wanted done?”
“Yup.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that it passes muster, and cleanly. No trace of methanol. It is completely potable.” She grinned. “Now, whether it’s any good or not…”
Bridget reached over and picked up the bottle that I’d delivered the previous day. She poured a small amount into a plastic glass and raised it in my direction. “Caťaoireaca.” She downed the glass in one motion.
I watched closely, waiting for her to go rigid, or melt, or burst into flames. She swallowed the liquid, took a deep sucking breath, wiped her eyes, and said, “Smooth.”
“Really?”
“No.” Bridget made a face. “It’s not paint thinner, but it’s not Irish whiskey, either. Actually, since you used oak barrels, it’ll never be Irish. But if you squint your eyes and look sideways at it while yelling LAH-LAH-LAH, it could be whiskey.”
I nodded. “Well, I force-aged this stuff, so let’s not expect miracles. I’ll take a little more time with the production supply. And Riker thinks he can scan some proper sherry-infused barrel samples for me, for making Irish.”
“Sounds good.” Bridget gave me a sideways look. “Need a partner?”
“Well, someone has to hump the barrels around.” I grinned at her. “But yeah, it would help, if you’re serious. Anyway, I was also calling about the Peter Project.”
“Riiiiiiight. Well, Peter and his descendants are munching happily on the vine, turning it into more bunnies as quickly as they can. Farmers are happy, bunnies are happy, raptors are happy—not surprisingly, they like bunny as well. Pretty much a win-win for everyone except the vine.”
“Great.” I nodded, then popped up a picture on the video screen. “In other news, I’ve come up with a small drone that’s optimized for hunting the adult parasite. You said you didn’t think killing it would be too disruptive, right?”
“Correct, O electronic one. It’s an apex predator, really. There may be a population explosion in whatever it normally uses as hosts, but my guess is that there are normal-sized predators who will take care of that.”
“Mm, good. I’ll be adding them to the central surveillance system. I’ll need an estimate from you of how many we should have active at any time.”
Bridget nodded without comment. She was eyeing the paint thinner, twirling the glass in her hand. Hopefully, she was considering another shot and not fearing for her health. I asked her, “What does kaheerakah mean?”
“Caťaoireaca. It’s Irish for chairs.”
“Chairs? You toast furniture in Ireland?”
Bridget laughed. “There’s a story. Probably apocryphal…”
I made a rolling motion with my hand.
“Okay, but remember, you asked.”
She settled herself and poured another glass of paint thinner. “There was this Brit who decided to stop at Hotel Rosslare in County Wexford. He had a few, then a few more, then he decided to be friendly. So he asked the barmaid how you say ‘cheers’ in Irish.”
Bridget smiled wickedly. “And you know how the Brits massacre the English language, so she thought he said ‘chairs’, and she told him. Whereupon he bought a round for the house, turned to the other patrons, raised his glass, and said Caťaoireaca.”
I chuckled. Bridget gave me the stink-eye. “Hey, down in front. Anyway, the other patrons looked at each other in confusion, then raised their glasses and drank. Afterwards, Paddy turned to Sean and said, ‘What the blazes was that?’ Sean shrugged and answered, ‘Damned if I know, but as long as he keeps buying, he can toast the livestock for all of me.’”
I laughed. “I know some Irish jokes.”
“Don’t you dare.” She grinned at me, and I had a sudden feeling of regret at no longer being human.
* * *
“Stéphane, this is Bridget. Bridget, Stéphane.”
Stéphane held out his hand, and Bridget shook it. They both turned to look at me. Well, at the drone I was watching from. The new model was slightly bigger than a softball, so could go indoors. I was told my voice sounded a little tinny, but I could survive that.
I lowered myself to conversation height, and they sat. I’d texted our order to the waiter, so beers arrived immediately.
“So, is there an occasion for this?” Bridget looked back and forth between me and Stéphane.
“Not really. I mean, I’m not planning a takeover of the colony or anything. God, why would I want to?” I chuckled. One of Stéphane’s eyes twitched, so I guess a tinny chuckle didn’t come across well.
“Anyway, between the brontos and other dinos, the raptors, vine, Cupid bug, and everything else that makes this such a fun place to live, I spend most of my time coordinating with the two of you. The committee seems determined to funnel all information through themselves, and sometimes I just want to slap them.”
“So you are creating unofficial channels, here?” A slow grin spread across Stéphane’s face.
“Something like that. You know, just to speed things along.”
Stéphane looked at Bridget. “You are responsible for the rabbits? Nice choice. I’ve had rabbit stew several times this month.”
Bridget laughed and turned to me. “Told you.”
She flipped open her tablet and set it up on a corner of the table, then looked at the drone and inclined her head towards the tablet. I took the hint, floated the drone up to the ceiling, and transferred my image to the tablet. “This better?”
Both of my friends grinned at the tablet. Stéphane said, “You’re still ugly.”
It was a great afternoon.
32. Linus
Bill
May 2178
Epsilon Eridani
[Incoming Message from Linus]
“Linus? Holy hell! Put it on.”
I’d just recently received the radio transmission from Linus about Epsilon Indi and KKP. Linus had, unfortunately, left Epsilon Indi before my transmissions of the SCUT plans had reached him. He’d been out of touch since 2150, when he left Epsilon Indi, and he hadn’t lagged his light-speed report by more than a few months. I smiled to myself. There would have to be some catching up.
Linus’s original transmission included a complete description of his encounter with Henry Roberts, the replicant from the Australian probe. Which officially didn’t exist.
Guppy popped up an email for me. It was a status update, essentially. Linus was still a few days away, and he hadn’t been getting VR updates for the last thirty-odd years. The old video connections were even more subject to tau-related limitations than modern VR.
I sent him a return email with VR updates attached. Meanwhile, I would start building a SCUT unit for him to install when he got here.
* * *
Linus sat back, coffee in hand, and put his feet up on the desk. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Come on, Bill,” Linus said, laughing. “I’ll fix any virtual damage afterwards, okay?”
I grinned back. “Mom taught us better than that.”
Linus rolled his eyes and took his feet
off the desk. He materialized a footstool and made himself comfortable. “Gotta admit, I really like the new VR system. Nice job.”
“Wasn’t just me, Linus. Everyone has put in mods. Bob-1 did a whole independent branch out at Delta Eridani before we reconnected. Some really good fine-detail stuff came out of that.”
Linus shifted to get more comfortable, and I grinned into the short silence. “Okay, before I explode—what’s with KKP? You’ve actually named it Klown Kar Planet?”
“Yep.” Linus grinned back at me. “Have you seen the orbital mechanics diagram? It’s a satellite of the system’s Jovian, and both the orbit and the planet’s axis are inclined ninety degrees from normal. Try to visualize the path of the sun over the year.”
“Habitable?”
“Technically. Air’s right, gravity’s right, life is biocompatible. But I wouldn’t want to live there.”
“Mm. On the other hand, we don’t have a surplus of colony targets. I’ll bet one of the enclaves will select it.”
Linus nodded. He took on an introspective expression, and I knew he wanted to talk about Henry. I waited for him to organize his thoughts.
“So, Bill, I’ve been doing some work with Henry. You’ve gone over my reports, right?”
“Without a VR, he went psychotic, and started following a warped version of his directives. You extracted his matrix from the structure you found and set up a VR for him, then started some home-brew therapy.”
Linus nodded. “I’ve gotten him to the point where he understands what happened. He’s living in reality, now, but he’s still pretty fragile. He can go into panic attacks without warning. When that happens, he goes back to his sailboat.”
“Okay, so what sets him off?”
“He’s agoraphobic, which seems strange since he has no problem being in a teeny boat in the middle of an ocean.” Linus rolled his eyes. “And he doesn’t like Guppy. Apparently the Australians used the same acronym for the GUPPI interface as FAITH did—”
“It’s the other way around, Linus. I’ll bring you up to date later, but Australia actually got there first. Anyway, continue.”
Linus gave me a perplexed look, but apparently decided to go along with my schedule. “Um, so the imaginary beings that tortured him were fish. I’ve been trying to desensitize him to Guppy’s presence. It helps that we used the Ackbar image. He saw Star Wars, and he thinks that’s pretty funny.”
I took a moment to shake my head. “Incredible. A hundred years after Star Wars and Star Trek were made, people were still watching them.”
Linus shrugged. “They were still playing The Wizard of Oz—the Judy Garland version—when Original Bob was an adult. That’s seventy-five years. How is it different?”
I waved a hand to concede the point. “So you’ve upgraded Henry’s VR and hardware, right? Let’s bring him in.”
Linus nodded and froze for a moment. Then, as his avatar came back to life, another person popped in. This wasn’t a Bob. Henry was shorter, with a trim, healthy physique, and thin, dark hair. I had an actual moment of vertigo. It had been so long since I’d been in the presence of anyone except variations of Bob. It was different from video conferences with humans. VR or not, Henry was here.
I took a moment to catch my breath, then extended a hand. “Hi, Henry. Welcome to the Bobiverse.”
“The what?” Linus and Henry both spoke at once, their eyes goggling in tandem.
“Long story.” I laughed. “Look Henry, I’ve given you your own domain and your own firewall. It’s a mutual protection thing. But you’ll have access to all the public features of BobNet, which includes several blogs. You should start reading. You, too, Linus. You’re way behind the times.”
Jeeves came in at my summons, and offered Henry a coffee. Henry did a double-take and pointed. “That’s, uh…”
I grinned. “John Cleese. Yep.” I looked at Linus. “You don’t use Jeeves?”
Linus shook his head. “Doesn’t really fit my VR.”
Meanwhile, Henry had taken the coffee, grinning. “Got anything to strengthen it?” he asked.
I nodded to Jeeves, who produced a bottle of whiskey out of nowhere. A quick pour, and Henry was looking much happier.
“I understand intellectually that this is all virtual reality.” Henry sat down and gestured around him. “But it’s quite amazing. If I didn’t already know, I think I’d be completely fooled.” He turned to Linus. “No offense, Linus, but your VR had some issues, if I were paying attention.”
Linus waved a hand in dismissal. “Henry, Bill and others have been working on the tech for thirty years while I’ve been gone. It shouldn’t be surprising.”
“Hmm, okay, I have some reading to do. Acknowledged. How many people can you fit into a single Virtual Reality session?”
“It depends on the power of the computer that’s hosting it, Henry. I’ve got a huge system here in Epsilon Eridani that’s specifically designed for hosting. I’ve hosted baseball games, and Bob-moots with dozens of Bobs at a time.” I glanced at each of them in turn. “You guys both have some catching up to do. Linus, I’ve started building a latest-generation vessel for each of you. Henry, it’s up to you what you want to do. I understand you have some sensitivities that you’re dealing with. There’s no hurry. We have, literally, all the time in the universe.”
Henry looked shocked. Perhaps it hadn’t really hit him before. As replicants, we were immortal. Some of the later-generation Bobs had started to refer to humans as ephemerals. I wasn’t going to lecture anyone, but I believed the tag was dismissive and dehumanizing.
I sat forward and put my coffee down. “Henry, I’d love to see your boat when you have time and feel up to it. As you could probably tell from Linus, we’ve never had any experience with sailing. Meanwhile, let’s get started on bringing you guys up to date.”
Henry nodded and smiled tentatively. Linus made a head motion to him, and they disappeared.
I could hardly wait for the next moot.
33. Trouble in Paradise
Bob
January 2180
Delta Eridani
Buster had taken a mate. Archimedes and he were working on a framework for a tent, while the women stitched together the covering. Tents now covered the ground in downtown Camelot, and I was starting to see some variations in design. Archimedes had started to rebuild his for the third time, a process that was making Diana cranky. I rarely saw eye to eye with her, but in this case, I could see her point.
It was a peaceful, bucolic scene, except for all the armed Deltans walking around. Deltans had always been armed, if course, but in the past the weapons had been for hunting or for protection against predators like the gorilloids. But in the last year or two, there had been incidents of violence between Deltans.
Marvin and I sat in the middle of the village VR, watching the activity. The VR was now a completely real-time representation of activity in Camelot, with only one or two blind spots where I hadn’t been able to sneak in a camera.
Marvin waved his glass of cognac in the general direction of a group of young Deltans. He’d picked up the habit from Howard over at Vulcan, and I still got a kick out of it. “So, Camelot has street gangs, now,” he said. “Are they going around hot-wiring teepees?”
I responded with an eyeroll and an exaggerated nod, then answered, “This is pretty recent behavior. I think it might have something to do with population density. They’re getting too crowded, and the tents take up more space, which just makes it worse.”
“Everything has side-effects,” Marvin said with a smile. “Have you noticed the gangs are co-ed?”
“Mm, yeah. I’m sure a sociologist would have something to say about that, but the libraries don’t have much in the way of that particular discipline.”
Marvin snorted. “Doesn’t strike me as a field of study that theists would approve of, y’know?”
I nodded. “Too bad, though. The last mating season was signif
icantly more violent. Two Deltans ended up dying from injuries. And now we’re getting face-offs between the hexghi. It worries me.”
“You could busterize someone…”
“Not funny, Marv.”
Marvin shrugged. He knew that I’d been staying strictly out of sight since my banishment. I couldn’t take the chance of fallout from a bawbe sighting affecting Archimedes.
After a moment, he added, “On the other hand, Bob, the problems we’re seeing are a result of the Deltan population going up. As problems go, it’s a helluva lot better than the problem you first found them with.”
I smiled, as much at Marvin’s transparent attempt to make me feel better as anything. But he was right. When I found the Deltans, attrition had been slowly killing them off. A rising population was infinitely better, for all the issues it was causing.
“So what do we do?”
“Nothing. At least for the moment. I’m banished, remember?” I shrugged. “I suppose this is that point where I step away and let the Deltans make their own destiny. I talked about it in the past, but I guess I always expected it to be my choice. Not forced on me.” I gave Marvin a lopsided grin, and he laughed.
“I’m sure most parents feel that way at some point.”
34. Moose
Bill
June 2185
Epsilon Eridani
I could feel the wind on my face as I ran. This was nothing like VR. I controlled Bullwinkle directly—well, sort of—as he ran over the surface of Ragnarök. I was easily holding seventy KPH, the android’s reflexes taking care of the limb coordination at that speed.
The system was still far from perfect. In order to make this work, I had two drones following the moose. Radio comms between Bullwinkle and the drones were relayed via SCUT to me. It was more a proof of concept than a practical solution. But ignoring the Rube Goldberg communications, I now had a physical presence on the surface of the planet.
Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many Page 14