Its processing power is so great it can instantly spot any attempt to subvert it.
It can act for the long-term common good in a way individuals are incapable of.
Annie nodded. “Its first action was to instigate what became known as The Reckoning—a global audit using remote-sensing to assess the state of the planet in terms of flora, fauna, and mineral resources, and determine the extent of environmental degradation. Not only was this a practical necessity, it was a symbolic calling to account.” She clicked the tiny control stick in her hand, and the wall behind her became a view of the Earth from an orbiting satellite. Tearing my eyes away from the breathtakingly beautiful image of a blue planet wreathed in swirling clouds, I studied the young faces around me. The Numbers might as well have been staring at a blank wall, but the Names were so awestruck that to look into their eyes was as wonderful as looking at the picture of the planet.
Annie continued. “The Ecosystem then calculated the maximum rate of resource exploitation—and thus the population—which could be sustained; and how best to sustain that population, balancing quality of life against the need to minimize our—”
“Their,” one of the Paretos corrected her with ill-concealed exasperation, sounding like a parent who was weary of chastising a forgetful child.
Annie didn’t acknowledge the interruption, but didn’t quite carry on regardless because she said, “against the need to minimize the global footprint. It also drew up a strategy to safeguard the remaining flora and fauna, and to implement remedial action to mitigate the impact of past pollution where possible.
“This represented a fundamental shift in the approach to politics and economics: an attempt to adapt population numbers, lifestyles and living standards to suit the planet’s diminished carrying capacity, rather than adapting the planet to suit man’s increasing appetites.
“While all this sounded fine in theory, the first test of ecologics in practice was how it would manage the transition from old world to new.
“Riot-torn, flood and storm-damaged cities—” the wall behind her became a devastated cityscape—”had to be replaced with new towns. This was done using money and manpower freed up by a peace dividend brought about by the unprecedented global accord; no country was in a position to defend itself let alone attack another. Nationalism, like consumerism, became a dirty word in light of the undeniable need to pull together.
“A trickle of aid allowed some ecological communities to be developed in the Third World, but it amounted to little more than token gestures because the developed world needed all its resources to save itself.” The devastated western cityscape was as nothing compared to the sprawling shanty town which now occupied the wall behind Annie MacDougall. It had been filmed from the air, and stretched as far as the eye could see. In a choked voice, Annie said, “Life expectancy plummeted in such places, and each generation was less numerous than the last. The places and people basically withered and died.
“In the developed world key buildings were moved to safer sites, with our community being a prime example.” The wallscreen showed the distinctive horizon of my home community, Dundee, with half-built havens ranked up a hillside.
“The sites were chosen according to their proximity to resources and existing population centers. Lee slopes were favored, because they were high enough to avoid flooding and yet sheltered from the full ferocity of the superstorms.
“The overall form of the communities, and of the buildings which make them up, is dictated by functionality and the desire to minimize their footprint, so one community is remarkably similar to another. Fully-serviced apartment blocks—havens—were built around the core of key buildings. Initially the havens were for people who’d lost their homes in floods and storms, but gradually they expanded outward to accommodate everyone.”
“Didn’t some people refuse to leave their homes?” a Name asked.
“Yes, for various reasons, some people did stay in the old cities.”
“So the transition acted as a selection process, weeding out the most irrational members of society,” a Number said.
“I’d never thought of things in those terms,” Annie said, taken aback by the callousness underlying the youngster’s interpretation of the events she was describing.
Once Annie gathered herself, she continued, “The controlled environment of the communities proved ideal for nurturing a new society and implementing its rules, principally by means of credit cards which record what you contribute to society and what you take out.
“Meanwhile preserves, staffed by altruistic nature-loving volunteers, were created in those parts of the Outside with the highest concentrations of endangered species.” The wall behind Annie was transformed into a scene from a rainforest. A young woman in green coveralls was reaching up towards the lower branches of a tree, and a monkey was reaching down to take the food she held. The shot looked slightly out of focus, but it might just have been my eyes blurring with a tear or two as I thought about Jen.
“Breeding centers using genetic engineering were necessary for the continuation of many species due to the sterility induced by pollution—”
The lush green jungle was replaced by a stark, logica gray clinic in which a lab technician held a pipette above a test tube.
“And it soon became obvious that a similar program was needed for people; the genetic damage caused by pollution was being carried on down the generations, resulting in falling fertility and increasing fetal abnormalities.”
The Paretos sniggered in perfect unison, and when I turned around I saw they were looking at a Number who’d drawn up his arm, pressing the back of his wrist to the front of his shoulder and turning his fingers into claws in cruel mimicry of Annie MacDougall’s deformity.
I turned back to Annie and was relieved to see she was looking at the wallscreen image of the lab. I guessed she knew it was better not to look at the class at that point in her lecture.
“There were fears this genetic engineering would be used to control population quality as well as quantity, “ she said. “However these concerns were eased when the Ecosystem generated the Human Nature Directive—”
“The Nobody’s Perfect Bill,” Frankie piped up.
Annie nodded. “Yes, Frankie, the Nobody’s Perfect Bill, which stipulates that all Numbers are to be given randomly generated cosmetic and emotional flaws.”
Now it was the Names who sniggered, and this time Annie was able to look out over the rows of desks and the pupils who sat in them. I did likewise, and saw that almost without exception the Numbers exhibited various degrees of discomfiture. The exceptions were the Paretos, who looked smugger than ever.
Annie didn’t let the fidgeting Numbers stew in their juices for quite as long as I would have done before continuing with the lecture. “Once the immediate crisis was averted, the Ecosystem recognized that, in order to prevent past ethnic, religious and nationalistic divisions from reappearing, it had to provide challenges that would unite mankind for the future. So it initiated the MaP project, also known as The Search. Does anyone know what MaP stands for?”
Frankie raised his hand enthusiastically. Before Annie could point to him, or anyone else, one of the Paretos said, “Meaning and Purpose.”
Fighting back her obvious irritation, Annie said, “That’s right. It’s a bid to understand the universe and man’s place in it, in a way that no one mind—however brilliant—” she added pointedly, “could hope to do.”
“In one way or another, you’ll all play a part in The Search over the coming years. For some of you it will be a hobby. For others it will be your life’s work. I’m sure all of you have heard of MaP and are curious about how it will affect you, and how you will affect it. Well, this is where you find out.”
Rather you than me, Annie MacDougall, I thought. The Search was a vast subject, and I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to explain it.
Annie took it in her stride. “There are three aspects to the project: a study of t
he aspirations and achievements of people of the past; an analysis of the dreams and desires of current citizens; and an attempt to further our knowledge of science in order to build a better future.
“This latter aspect will appeal to those of you who are more scientifically minded—”
“You mean Numbers,” a Pareto said.
“I try to avoid genetic stereotypes,” Annie told him.
“Why, if they accurately reflect reality?” the same student asked.
Good luck fielding that one, I thought.
“Because prejudice is ugly, and an open mind is beautiful,” Annie said.
That deserved a round of applause. But, of course, she didn’t get one.
“Anyway, this scientific strand of The Search basically consists of attempts to formulate what used to rather charmingly be referred to as a Theory of Everything—a means of explaining the entire universe, from sub-atomic interactions to the formation of galaxies; a way of accommodating the theories of relativity, gravity, and strong and weak magnetic forces without contradiction.
“As for the other strands of The Search, those dealing with the past and present, they involve an analysis of individual expressions of thought and feeling.
“The basic premise is that individuals are incapable of comprehending the big picture, the sum total of human knowledge. One lifetime isn’t long enough to learn all there is to know, and no single intellect is large enough to make sense of the musings of all others. Only the Ecosystem has the computational power to discern common threads and pick out any underlying purpose and progression. In effect, only the Ecosystem has a realistic chance of determining where people are going and why they’re trying to get there.”
“Of finding the meaning of life,” a student said, the awe in her voice telling me she was a Name.
Annie nodded. “So much for the general concept behind MaP. What you’re all probably wondering is how The Search affects you. Well, for those who develop a profound interest in science or the humanities, MaP offers the prospect of a lifetime of research, and a reward that can be measured in terms of knowledge gained as well as credit earned.
“For the rest of you, who will go on to be teachers or doctors, technicians or LogiPol officers—” a glance in my direction let me know my presence hadn’t gone undetected—”or any one of the thousand other trades and professions that allow communities to function, The Search represents a hobby, a pastime, and a chance to earn extra pleasure points, while at the same time educating yourself and adding to The Sum Total of Human Knowledge.”
“Can we pick any subject to study?” a student asked.
“Yes,” Annie answered. “Say you’re interested in history, as I am, you can pick a single life—either someone famous, or an ordinary person who has left some lasting expression of their thoughts and feelings. Or you can pick an era, the length of which will vary according to the period you choose. The record from prehistoric times is so scant that if you select a study period from back then, the era might be a thousand years long; whereas if you choose the 20th or 21st century the timescale is more likely to be measured in seconds.”
“You mean the study of a single second can be the work of a lifetime?” a Name asked, again sounding slightly awed.
Annie nodded. “Yes—and you’ll only have scratched the surface of that second. Whether you study a particular person or a period, the approach is the same. You learn as much as you can about your chosen subject, sort through the insignificant stuff—”
“How do you determine what’s significant?” another Name asked.
“Good question. It’ll be answered at university, where you won’t so much study particular subjects, but rather how to study: how to sort the grains of truth and knowledge from the inconsequential chaff; and how to present your conclusions to the Ecosystem for synthesis and analysis—”
The bell rang to mark the end of the study period.
The Numbers filed out one by one and the Names followed, taking longer and chatting in little groups.
Then I was alone with Annie MacDougall.
CHAPTER 14
THE BOOK THAT NEVER WAS
PREOCCUPIED WITH CRACKING THE CASE IN ORDER to impress the pants off Paula, I’d forgotten what it meant to Annie MacDougall. I was truly ashamed of myself when I saw how expectantly Doug’s daughter looked at me. “Have you found anything out?” she asked eagerly.
“I think I know what book your dad was reading,” I told her, holding up Lichens and Mosses of the World. “What I don’t know is why it would change his views on life. I was hoping if you looked it over, you might pick up on something I missed. You’re much better qualified to see it through your dad’s eyes than I am.”
I held out the book but she didn’t take it. “It’s okay,” she said. “I have Dad’s copy at home—I cleared out his bookcase. I’ve been working my way through the contents, trying to find what he’d been so struck by, but I didn’t know where to start. I haven’t got to that book yet, but I’ll give it a go tonight.”
I felt more than a little foolish when I thought of my little expedition to Newport library; it hadn’t occurred to me that Doug’s next of kin might have the book.
“Can I swap your father’s copy for mine?” I asked. I’d read the book from cover to cover without finding any answers, but I hadn’t read Doug’s book. None of the words or pictures had jumped out at me, but maybe there was something in Doug’s copy that wasn’t in mine: dog-earing that marked out the last section he’d read, a well-thumbed page indicating a passage he kept coming back to, or even some notes scribbled in a margin.
Annie looked puzzled by my request. But, after I explained, she nodded and said, “We can go up to my apartment and pick it up now.”
When we got there Annie used her deformed hand to steady the pile of books stacked in the corner of her living room, and her good hand to extricate the volume that matched mine. “No marker or dog-eared pages,” she said, examining the book as she came over to join me on the sofa.
“That would be too much to hope for,” I said.
The only unprinted marks on the first few pages were those left by time and dampness. However Annie, who was sitting to my right, stopped with the next page half turned. I gently finished turning it for her so I could see what had grabbed her attention. I spotted it right away: a sentence in the second paragraph was underlined with a pencil mark that looked like it had been drawn days rather than decades ago.
We both leaned over the table to read the sentence, but it just described the association between fungal hyphae, whatever that was, and cells that facilitated photosynthesis. I couldn’t imagine it was anything to get too excited about, even if lichens were the sort of thing you found exciting. “Turn the page,” I said, filled with a horrible premonition of what I was about to see.
Sure enough: more underlined sentences.
Annie flicked through a couple of dozen pages, and there were sentences underlined on almost every one. Her excitement replaced by disappointment, she said, “The underscoring hardly narrows it down at all—there’s way too much of it. Dad was probably picking out key points for his thesis.”
“He always did a thesis when he read a book?”
She nodded. “And he scanned the book in to the database. He needed all the credit he could get to buy water for his plants.”
Something occurred to me, and I said, “Can I see the book, please?”
“Help yourself.”
I took the slender volume from her and opened it at the centrefold. There were underscores on virtually every page. I raised a hand to my jaw and rubbed my goatee, like I often do when I’m trying to work something out.
“What is it?” Annie asked.
“Your dad had obviously read at least half the book, and yet there was no record of any chapters on the Ecosystem database. I don’t know about you, but I find it tedious sitting at my computer, turning page after page and holding it up to the screen to scan it in, so I never wait until
I’ve finished reading the whole book; I scan each chapter in after I’ve read it. Everyone I know does pretty much the same thing. If your dad did likewise, I’d expect to find at least a couple of chapters in the database.”
“I’m afraid I was never around when Dad was doing stuff like that, so I don’t know how he went about it.”
I made a mental note to check how Doug had input his previous books. There would be a record of whether each was entered in one continuous period, or in the normal fashion of one or two chapters at a time. If Doug had worked the same way as everyone else, the opening chapters of Lichens and Mosses of the World would have been added to the Ecosystem database—and their absence from it might mean someone had deleted them. I had absolutely no idea who would want to do such thing, and even less idea why they’d want to do it. It was hard to believe the moldy old botanical book contained something that anyone found remotely threatening… But it wasn’t impossible to believe, the way it would have been if the first few chapters of the book had been on the database, and if Doug MacDougall had been standing behind the counter of The Plant Place rather than pushing up the daisies, as they used to say. All of this was making me keener than ever to discover the last thing he’d read.
Then I had an idea of how I might find it. I flicked through the pages again, this time beginning at the back. There were no pencil marks on the last six or eight pages. Picking up on my mounting excitement, Annie said, “What are you looking for?”
“I’m just hoping your dad hadn’t finished reading the book.”
“Why?”
“Because if he hadn’t, there’s a good chance the last underline will show us the final thing he read.”
“Whatever it was he was so excited about, in other words.”
I nodded.
Annie drew closer to me. I used the pad of my left thumb to hold the bulk of the pages back, and the tip of my right thumb to pull them loose one at a time. My excitement grew with every page that didn’t have a pencil mark on it, and I sensed Annie’s did, too.
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