All These Worlds (Bobiverse Book 3)

by Dennis E. Taylor

  She smiled at me. “Well, there is a certain amount of gossip going around. Some of the more interesting items involve questions about your equipment. So to speak.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh helplessly. Thanks to the very authentic proprioceptive circuits in the android, I had to sit down or risk falling over. For maybe the tenth time, I made a note to myself to install tear ducts.

  Bridget grinned, sharing the moment. “And on that subject…”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I’ve already told you that I’ll upgrade Manny any time you say the word. That’s on you.”

  Now Bridget was laughing, too. The hilarity fed back on itself until we were both lying back on the furniture, gasping for breath and whooping helplessly.

  Finally, after a minute or two, we both managed to recover control. Bridget took my hand. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you. Even Stéphane often just looked at me like I had a screw loose. I had to bite back a lot of my more lowbrow humor. With you, well, you get it.”

  “Minds together in the gutter, forever.” I smiled at her. My God, she was beautiful.

  * * *

  The internet hadn’t really changed that much in two hundred years. Oh, there were new companies, and old companies had gone out of business. A lot of the jargon had changed. But people were still people, and still had the same interests. There were still forums, you could still follow someone, everyone still had a personal landing page on any of several different platforms, and blogs were still popular. Apparently narcissism and voyeurism were still alive and well.

  The point, though, was that it didn’t take a lot of effort to track down some commentary relating to the locally famous—or perhaps infamous—replicant. My android persona wasn’t any kind of a secret, and had become a small but persistent topic of conversation. And there were enough pictures posted to make me recognizable if someone cared enough.

  There was no shortage of opinions on the subject, although they appeared to be about evenly split. I was either some kind of Frankenstein’s Monster, or I was just some guy who had the same right to exist as everyone else. There didn’t really seem to be any middle ground.

  It looked like my relationship with Bridget was the real sticking point. Most people were okay with me just wandering around, visiting malls and such. But they drew the line at me dating outside my chemical family.

  It was unlikely that Bridget was unaware of this. That meant she was protecting me. Crap. I was just chauvinistic enough to want to be the one doing the protecting.

  I wondered if she had a plan. Or, more importantly, if I had one. Someone needed to deal with this.

  Hunted

  Bob

  March 2224

  Camelot

  Deltans couldn’t whistle while they worked. Or any other time, really—otherwise I’d have been belting out a tune. This was the kind of day that would bring a celebration to the lips of any but the grumpiest. Up with the dawn, a breakfast of berries and eggs, a couple of hours warming ourselves in the morning sun… My android body didn’t require any of that, of course, but the neural interface was more than good enough to give me the same pleasurable experience as anyone else.

  After a morning of indolence, I went hunting while Archimedes laid out his flintwork for the day. With a little luck, I hoped to bag the local equivalent of a turkey.

  Archimedes and his family were more than generous, and had treated me like one of them right from the start. I wanted to give back whenever possible. A turkey or other small game once in a while was a welcome treat.

  Marvin occasionally accused me of trying to deny reality and become Robert full-time. I didn’t argue with him—there was at least some truth to the accusation. I certainly felt far more a part of the Deltan life than I had back on Earth as Original Bob. Missing my family so much probably played into my effectively having gone native.

  In the middle of my idle ruminations, my heads-up display flashed an alert. Movement in the immediate vicinity. I called up one of the many spy drones that kept my Camelot VR up to date, and redirected it to center on me.

  At computer speeds, it took less than a second overall to realize that I wasn’t being stalked by wildlife.

  It was Fred. And four friends. And they were obviously intent on me.

  I could just busterize them, of course. But even with an obnoxious tard like Fred, I couldn’t stomach casual murder. I could also very likely take them on and win, but it would completely blow my cover. I’d be done as Archimedes’ friend, Robert, the generic Deltan. Not an option.

  Could I call for help? No, by the time I got a drone to Archimedes, then he found Donald or someone, then they got here, the excitement would be over. I was on my own.

  I called up two more drones so that I would have good coverage, then observed my pursuers for a few moments. They knew generally where I was, but I could see that they were often looking or moving in a direction that was slightly off my line. That suggested possibilities.

  My strategy started with turning off my scent. Deltans made heavier use of the sense of smell than humans, and less use of sight. I could take advantage of that.

  I positioned myself between two of my stalkers, and went as still and quiet as only an android could, as they moved past my position. With no movement, sound, or odor, I simply didn’t register.

  Now I was behind them.

  I noted Fred’s position and moved around the perimeter until I was close to him. If he moved away from the group at any point, he was mine.

  The cordon eventually tightened until everyone could see each other. Fred threw his spear down with rage.

  “We had him! By the balls of my ancestors, how in the next life did you let him get through?”

  “How do you know it wasn’t you, Fred?” One of the hunters, apparently fed up, challenged him.

  In a streak, Fred moved in and knocked the speaker to the ground. He picked up his victim’s spear and held it to the Deltan’s neck.

  “Mouth me off like that again and we’ll be serving you for dinner, kuzzi.”

  Wow, what a jerk. It occurred to me that I might be doing the Deltan species a favor by removing him from the gene pool.

  The hunters cast around for a few more minutes, but I simply moved out of their range and watched from the drones. Eventually they gave up and started back toward Caerleon, with Fred mouthing off constantly.

  I followed them about halfway to the other village, but sadly, Fred stayed with the group all the way. I’d have to arrange a meeting myself.

  I returned all surveillance systems to normal and headed back toward Camelot. A quick command to a couple of drones ensured that I wouldn’t be taken by surprise by anything. This whole situation would require some thought, and I knew myself well enough to realize that I could walk right off a cliff when I got into this mode.

  I walked along, looking down at my feet as I thought. Fred was truly evidence that jerks came in all shapes, sizes, and species. But what was setting him—and the rest of them—off like this? They weren’t behaving this way for the fun of it. The behavior was too consistent for pranks. They had the same hunting prospects as us, the same access to tubers—maybe even a little better than Camelot in that area.

  I made a note to check out Caerleon using drones. Maybe I could pick out something significant.

  I still had the unfinished chore of hunting lunch, though. And I’d wasted far too much time waltzing with Fred and his goons. With a shake of the head, I sent my drones out to look for some small game in the area. It was cheating, but I was running behind, and people gotta eat.

  * * *

  “Sounds like Fred took it personally.” Donald grinned at me.

  “Well, no one likes being punched out. But I didn’t expect him to come hunting for me.”

  Donald and I were sunning ourselves at Archimedes’ flint-working site, while he did his best to ignore the two of us. Buster worked with his father, roughing out some of the easier tools for Archimedes t
o finish later. Buster had little interest in flint working as a career path, although he had his father’s dexterity and was pretty decent with the basics. Buster liked to hunt, and his weapon of choice was a bow and arrow. He was easily the best shot in the village—possibly in both villages.

  But Buster also loved hanging with his father, and if helping with the day’s work sped things along, then that’s what he’d do.

  These three were very probably my favorite people on the planet.

  “Too bad he didn’t give you the chance to slit his throat. You’d be doing everyone a favor.”

  I shifted my position while I considered my reply. I doubted I could just coldly cut someone’s throat, but how to explain that twenty-first-century sensibility to stone-age beings?

  “The thing is, Donald, we know it’s not just Fred. He may be taking to it with enthusiasm, but there’s more to this.”

  “Mmm.” Donald lay back with his hands behind his head. The tone said that Donald would have no trouble skewering Fred next time they met. “Might be just about time that we go on a hunt of our own. Maybe ask a few questions.”

  Well, that wasn’t a bad idea. Except for the ‘we’ part.

  Remains

  Bill

  March 2223

  Epsilon Eridani

  I was making some modifications to Bullwinkle when I got a ping from Mario. I gave my roamers instructions that would keep them busy for a while, and rematerialized my VR.

  Mario popped in a moment later. He turned to Jeeves, who had appeared at his elbow, and requested a coffee, then sat down and gazed at me.

  “Okay, Mario, I know you well enough to realize the inscrutable act always means trouble. What’s up?”

  He looked down and smiled, acknowledging the score. “Yeah, okay. Uh, I’m not sure where to begin.” Mario took a sip of his drink, then put it down and laced his fingers together. “You know we’ve been continuing to scout the stars around GL 877, trying to map out the Others’ depredations.”

  I nodded. “I’m guessing the dramatic pause isn’t to give me good news.”

  “Hah!” Mario shook his head. “If anything, they’ve been more active in the other direction. Probably a combination of luck and proximity of the stars in that area. Anyway, we’ve found five other life-bearing planets that they’ve depopulated, including another civilization. Late industrial, early atomic era. About equivalent to Earth in the mid-twentieth.”

  “Wonderful. So the Others have yet another notch on their collective holster.”

  “And another nail in their coffin. Bill, I know I’m probably preaching to the choir, but I don’t see any resolution to this that involves the Others continuing to exist.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s been discussed. You know it has. And we’re the ones who will have to do it, assuming we even can.”

  “There’s Daedalus and Icarus…”

  “Long shot.” I waved a hand at Mario. “What about you and your clones? You’re closest. Anything you could do?”

  Mario smiled without any humor. “Sure. Except, by some enormous coincidence, there’s no metal to be had anywhere around GL 877.”

  “Okay, got it.”

  Mario was right, of course. The home system of the Others was out at the periphery of explored space. By definition, since exploration had pretty much stopped once we’d discovered them.

  “Claude and a large number of the Bobs from the Delta Pavonis defense are heading for Gamma Pavonis. Maybe you can arrange something with them.” Mario looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

  I nodded, then grimaced. “I’ll do that, Mario, but I think Claude took the defeat really hard. I’m not sure he’s going to be entirely rational where the Others are concerned. His talk was all about defending Gamma.”

  “Well, you have a few more years until his group gets to Gamma. Maybe come up with a sales pitch.”

  I sighed. If there was a hell, it was in sales.

  Funeral for Julia

  Riker

  October 2218

  Vulcan

  I was going through the latest production reports from Charles, when I received a call from Justin Hendricks. With a smile, I dropped the reports. Talking to family was always top of the priority list. Justin had grown up; Space Cadet Justin was now a ship’s captain in the New Jerusalem Space Corps. The thought brought a chuckle. The space corps consisted of a half-dozen cargo and transport vessels, based loosely on the version 2 Heaven design.

  Dexter, the current Bob-in-residence, had been aggressive about making the colonies independent of replicant support. The Omicron2 Eridani system’s twin planets now featured settlements from twelve different enclaves, and all of them had at least one vessel. Dexter was still hanging around the system, but demands on his time were down to a couple of items a week.

  I had a smile on my face as I picked up the call, but lost it when I saw his expression. Justin’s eyes were glistening with barely-controlled tears.

  “Uncle Will, it’s Mom. She’s in the hospital. It’s bad.”

  * * *

  I stepped out of the cargo drone and looked up at the hospital building. Then I looked down at my hands, and at my feet. Howard had lent me Manny without hesitation, when he heard. It took slightly more than an hour to fly Manny from Vulcan to Romulus.

  This was my first time in an android, and I was nervous. It occurred to me that Howard’s first use of Manny was because of very similar circumstances. I hoped that wasn’t a trend. Sadly, with ephemerals, it probably was.

  I saw Justin come out the front doors of the hospital, so I stepped away from the drone and sent it off. Justin hurried up to me, then stopped five feet away, suddenly bashful. This was the first time we’d met ‘in person’, so to speak.

  “Uncle Will,” he said, blushing slightly. “You, uh, you look younger on the phone.”

  I smiled. “Stage lighting.” I wasn’t about to try to explain Howard and Bridget. Assuming he didn’t already know about them.

  He turned and we walked back toward the hospital entrance. I spared a quick glance in his direction. For the first time, I noticed wrinkles forming around his mouth and on his forehead. A few gray hairs, too. With an effort of will, I pulled myself away from that line of thought as Justin filled me in.

  “She was at home, and suddenly she held her head, screamed, and collapsed. She was babysitting my kids, and fortunately they knew what to do.” Justin’s eyes were wide and staring as he talked. “The ambulance got there in moments, and brought her here. But I think it was already too late.” He looked at me, tears now in his eyes. “It’s an aneurysm. The doctors say there’s no way she’s going to wake up.”

  We arrived at her room, and I took a moment to look around. Very modern equipment, and no overt religious images or icons. Of course, there had been a popular uprising about twenty years ago, something to do with free importing of alcohol, and possibly a scandal or two… Anyway, New Jerusalem was now a proper democracy with separation of church and state. Howard and I had celebrated by scanning a bottle of Irish whiskey and bringing the template into VR.

  Well, I was procrastinating, and I knew it. I took a deep breath and walked slowly up to the bed.

  I remembered the first time I’d seen Julia Hendricks, on a video call with Minister Cranston. I remembered the stomach-dropping shock as I looked at an almost perfect likeness of my sister, Julia’s several-times-great-grandmother. She still looked like Andrea, like Andrea would have looked had I been alive to see her as a grandmother. I reached down, put my hand against Julia’s cheek. The first time I’d ever touched her.

  Well, it seems Howard finally installed tear ducts. Damn.

  I wiped my eyes, then turned to Justin. Tears were running freely down his face.

  It took several attempts to get my voice to work. “What will you do?”

  “She didn’t want to be kept alive if there was no chance…”

  I nodded, infinite sadness washing over me. People keep leaving…

&nbs
p; “I guess, with the aneurysm, there’s no chance of replication?”

  Justin shook his head. “Uncle Will, don’t take this personally, but I don’t think very many people will ever choose replication. It was an experiment designed in a darker, more authoritarian time, when people were seen as just replaceable cogs.” He smiled sadly at me. “And the amount of work you and the other Bobs have put in—well, it looks to the average person like permanent servitude. Who wants to spend their whole afterlife doing chores?”

  “Ah, that explains a lot.” I nodded in thought. “Once Howard resurrected the technology, we were kind of expecting an onslaught of requests. We’ve gotten zip.”

  “I think you are probably the end of the experiment.”

  I said nothing, just looked down at Julia. Maybe just as well.

  * * *

  The funeral was held within a few days. I was still borrowing Howard’s android. There was no chance of confusion—Howard had never been on Romulus in android form. These people only knew Will, the many-greats grand-uncle in software. Justin asked me to be a pallbearer, which I gratefully accepted.

  Julia had lived a good life, and had many relatives, all of whom knew and loved her. Justin’s eulogy left not a dry eye in the place—including yours truly.

  I was the center of attention for most of the reception. Many people wanted to know about my sisters, and about life in the 21st century. No questions about replication, though. Go figure.

  Finally, emotionally exhausted, I said my goodbyes and called the cargo drone. I turned and waved to the small crowd that came outside with me, stepped into the cargo drone, and switched off.

  * * *

  I popped into Howard’s VR. “Hey, Howard. Manny’s all yours again. He’s flying back from Romulus. Be there in a few hours.”

  “Thanks. Funeral go okay?”

  I sat and made a spot for Spike. She took the invitation, and began to purr before I even started petting her. Spike was never very good at hard-to-get.

  I sighed, and stared into space for a few moments. “No confrontations or anything. Not like you and the kids…” I gave him a quick glare. “I guess that’s kind of settled down?”