by E. M. Foner
“Giving up on a colony ship resulted in a serious financial loss for a number of Dollnick clans who I’m sure would be happy to give her another chance if she can only regain their trust. A successful tour of duty with EarthCent may be just the ticket.”
“Yes, then. I mean, I’ll have to talk to the president, of course, but I can’t imagine he would refuse. How does Flower’s intelligence stack up against, uh, you know.”
“Are you asking me to compare her capabilities to ours?” Libby inquired.
“Just so I have an idea what I’m talking about when I report to the president,” Kelly said apologetically. “I mean, is she smarter than artificial people?”
“Wisdom is not a simple concept to quantify. Flower certainly has more capacity than any of the non-Stryx artificial intelligence you have experience with, and the Dollnicks never attempted to burden their AI with constraints. But Flower developed without the benefit of teachers, and her knowledge is largely conscribed to solutions for situations she has encountered in her lifetime, plus whatever she has picked up from listening in over the Stryxnet.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s been conscious for a little under twenty thousand years, and active for approximately eighteen thousand. It takes the Dollnicks four or five generations to build a colony ship.”
“It’s the middle of the night on Earth right now, but I’ll come into the embassy first thing in the morning and ask you to put me through to the president.”
“Enjoy your dinner,” Libby said. “Dorothy has checked with me several times about quantities and preparation techniques.”
As Kelly headed for the lift tube, a familiar-looking woman emerged from a cross corridor and said, “Hello, Ambassador.”
“Hello, er…”
“Have you heard about the new chocolate shop in the Little Apple? It’s called, ‘Sweet Dreams,’ and I’m telling everybody I know about it.”
“Where in the Little Apple?”
“It’s between Morty’s Danger Dogs and Pub Haggis,” the woman informed her. “They have everything from hand-crafted gift selections to bulk chocolate imported directly from Earth.”
“Thank you. I think I’ll drop by on my way home.”
“Make sure you get there before the Gem buy it all,” the woman concluded with a smile, and headed off the opposite way.
Kelly struggled with her conscience for a moment before turning back to admit that she couldn’t recall the woman’s name, but the chocolate evangelist was already out of sight.
Two
Vivian carefully divided her oversized slab of fudge into two equal parts and slid half of it onto the napkin next to her plate.
“After you finish your pasta,” she told Samuel.
“You’re getting to be worse than my mom,” the ambassador’s son grumbled, picking at his entrée. “It’s not my fault that this stuff tastes like it’s way past the expiration date.”
“That’s because it probably is. Haven’t you noticed that the assortment of pre-wrapped meals in the Vergallian vegan section only changes when you buy one? I bet if we went back and looked right now, they’d all be put away until tomorrow because you’re the only customer.”
“If you’re wrong, I get to eat the brownie before I finish.”
“It’s fudge, and you have a deal,” the girl said.
The two teens left their meals on the table and walked over to the salad bar and vegetarian section of the serving line, where sure enough, the sliver of space normally reserved for pre-wrapped selections of Vergallian vegan had been replaced with a large pan of Drazen Burners, a lethal pepper that only the iron-stomached aliens could tolerate.
“I don’t get it,” Samuel complained when they returned to the table. “Vergallian vegan is like the safest food on the tunnel network.”
“The salads are terrible, but at least they’re fresh. The other entrées always looked like they came out of a vending machine.”
The ambassador’s son jerked in his chair like he had been jolted by electricity, and he grabbed the discarded ball of cling wrap he’d removed from the cold pasta dish just a few minutes earlier. After a good deal of careful picking and smoothing, he managed to get all of the creases out, though it wasn’t possible to undo the stretching.
“There!” he exclaimed, pointing at some faded black print near one of the corners which would have been on the underside of the disposable plate when the food was wrapped. “Look at that.” He pushed the cling wrap across the table looking as angry as Vivian could ever recall seeing him.
She glanced down at the stretched out characters and shook her head. “You know I don’t read Vergallian.”
“It’s a peasant-grade vending machine lunch, that’s the lowest quality, and the use-by date passed like five weeks ago.”
“Ooh,” the girl said sympathetically and pushed the napkin with the fudge across the table. “I guess you better not finish it.”
“Everything makes sense now. The first time I asked for a Vergallian vegan lunch, the guy stocking the salad bar looked at me funny and said he had just put them away, but he’d be back in a minute. He was actually gone like five minutes and returned all out of breath with a rock-hard quiche, and I was stupid enough to thank him for it.” The boy stood up and peered over the seated students towards the serving area to see if the alien was out front. “I’m going to challenge that jerk when I see him.”
“Hey, Humans,” a Frunge girl said in a friendly voice, taking the seat next to Samuel. “What’s the excitement?”
“Hey, Lizant. He just found out that the Vergallian guy who stocks the salad bar has been putting out expired food from a vending machine,” Vivian explained. “Please remind him that the student code prohibits dueling.”
“It does,” Lizant said, “especially with Open University cafeteria employees. They wouldn’t be able to hire anybody otherwise. Besides, the two of you are like the BAOC now. I bet that starting tomorrow you won’t be able to buy a meal anywhere on campus.”
“Why not?” Samuel asked.
“Your money won’t be any good. In fact, if you want something else for lunch, just say the word and I’ll go get it for you.”
“What’s a BAOC?”
“Big Alien On Campus,” the Frunge girl explained. “As soon as they figure out who you are, every student here is going to be chasing after you offering to carry your stuff. Just remember that you knew me back when.”
“I don’t get it,” Vivian said. “What did we do?”
“You don’t know about the colony ship project?”
Samuel and Vivian looked at each other and shrugged.
“You must have just come from class because it’s all over the local Grenouthian news feed,” Lizant said. “Your government thing, uh…”
“EarthCent,” the boy told her.
“No, the other one.”
“Eccentric Enterprises?” Vivian guessed.
“That’s it. They just made an agreement with a Dollnick colony ship.”
Samuel shrugged. “My mom mentioned something about it at breakfast but I don’t think she knew that anybody else would get excited about it. It’s a huge ship and everything, but what does that have to do with us?”
“Check your tabs,” Lizant urged them. “The administration announced a student competition to come up with practical business models for Flower, that’s the ship AI’s name, to support Human communities. It’s all going to count as special project credit, and the winners will get guaranteed Stryx loans to fund their ideas.”
“That sounds really cool, but I still don’t see where we fit in,” Samuel said, tapping his tab to life and skimming through the displayed text. “This announcement is a bit light on details. I wonder what the Galactic Free Press is reporting.”
“I’m reading it now,” Vivian said grimly. “They’re running a translation of a syndicated Grenouthian story and it mentions us by name. You’d think Aunt Chastity could have warned me.”
/> “Read that part out loud,” Samuel urged her.
“Local management of the project will be shared between the EarthCent embassy and Eccentric Enterprises, a front agency for EarthCent Intelligence which receives matching funds from InstaSitter. A student competition to develop applications for Flower’s ample capacity has been announced by the Open University, where the son of the EarthCent ambassador and the daughter of the director of EarthCent Intelligence are in attendance.”
“Grenouthian Intelligence must be slipping,” Samuel said sourly. “They didn’t mention that your mom is a founder of InstaSitter and your grandfather is the outside auditor for Eccentric Enterprises.”
“They have that information here in the section where they published my whole family tree, yours too, and they even got the names of the dogs right. This is like a real breach of intelligence etiquette.”
“It does seem a bit out of line,” Lizant commiserated after swallowing a bite of what looked like raw steak. “Now all the students are going to see you as their golden ticket to easy project credit and a possible business launch.”
“Hey Vivacious, Simulate,” a Dollnick whistled, settling into the seat next to Vivian. “I see you guys around campus and I thought I should introduce myself. I’m Grude.”
“Vivacious?” Samuel practically growled, bristling at the newcomer.
“He’s trying to pronounce your names from a transliteration,” the Frunge girl explained. “He’s so far off that your implants are just guessing.” She addressed herself to the four-armed giant. “It’s Vivian and Samuel, you nitwit.”
“Whatever they prefer,” Grude said agreeably. “I’ve been thinking that you’re going to need a colony ship expert on your team and I’m just the Dollnick for the job. My family has been in the support end of the business for over a hundred generations. I’m just at the Open University to learn about the legal stuff.”
“I know. I’m in your Dynastic Studies classes,” Vivian said pointedly.
“Is that you?” the Dollnick asked, half rising and peering at the girl closely. “Yeah, I recognize the way you part your hair. I guess I’m just used to looking down at the top of your head.”
“What makes you think we need a colony ship expert?” Samuel interjected.
“You’re going to be getting a lot of crackpot suggestions from students who are just looking for quick credits, and you’ll need help vetting them for practicality,” Grude said, spreading all four of his hands in what was no doubt a persuasive gesture for a Dollnick. “I know all about Flower’s capacities and infrastructure, not to mention the basic do’s and don’ts. The only difference between her and the ships being built today is that Flower doesn’t have a bowling alley.”
“But Samuel and I are students, just like you,” Vivian argued. “We don’t have any influence over what projects will get picked.”
“It’s Same Eel and Vie Viand,” a Drazen declared, stopping in his tracks and causing his drink to slosh over the metal brim of the cup. “I’ve been looking all over for you guys.”
“Samuel and Vivian,” the Dollnick corrected him without looking up “And take a number. I found them first.”
“Is that you, Grude?” the Drazen asked. “How’s the bakery do—”
“Jorb,” the Dolly interrupted, turning his attention to the latest arrival. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you, but it’s been hectic since I signed on as the colony ship expert for these Humans.”
“I see.” The Drazen sat down and turned to Vivian. “Did I mention that both of my sisters worked for InstaSitter? One of them still does, actually, and I have a cousin who went on a date with Tinka, though she never answered his pings after that.”
“Sounds like Tinka,” Vivian allowed. “Alright, by the merit of your sisters and your cousin, what do you want?”
“My family members are all stakeholders in a training camp for historical reenactors, similar to the spy camp the news reports say that Samuel’s father started,” Jorb explained. “It’s a franchise operation, just like Eccentric Enterprises, and we have tens of thousands of alums who have appeared in immersives and dramas. Ever since I saw the announcement, I was thinking what a great match it would be for your Dollnick colony ship.”
“Ever since you saw the announcement like twenty minutes ago you’ve been thinking about how much humanity needs a training camp for axe fighting?” Vivian asked skeptically.
“No, for police training,” Jorb pressed on. “I know from watching Grenouthian documentaries that you guys mainly left your world to be contract laborers, so your alien employers handled the security stuff. But the university competition description said the goal is to support independent Human communities, and those places could probably use help setting up law enforcement.”
“That’s really not a horrible idea,” Vivian admitted. Samuel just looked thoughtful and took another bite of fudge.
“I can tell you all about the best place on Flower to set up a training camp,” the Dollnick put in. “You’ll want it to be on one of the outer decks where their weight is higher and the trainees can run around the circumference without passing the same stuff every few minutes. Let me draw it. There’s space for a firing range between these spokes, and—”
“What’s that supposed to be?” another Dollnick asked, peering over Grude’s shoulder. “You have the scale all wrong, and there’s no ventilation shaft on Class III ships where you’re putting it.”
The artist slumped when he heard the voice of his fellow Dollnick, and he drew in all four elbows like he was protecting his ribs from a body punch.
“Go easy, Princeling,” Jorb addressed the newcomer. “We can’t all be born into a shipyard.”
“Mind your own business, Drazen. Just because we let you work out in our dojo doesn’t mean we’re interested in your opinions.”
“I don’t work out in your dojo, I teach,” Jorb retorted. “If you want a free lesson, we can step outside right now.”
“The student code prohibits dueling,” Vivian felt obliged to say for the second time in less than ten minutes. “Right, Lizant?”
“It also prohibits harassing your fellow students while they’re eating,” the Frunge girl pointed out.
“We’ll talk in Dynastic Studies,” Vivian called after Grude, who slunk away from the table under the withering stare of the higher ranking Dollnick.
“Maybe he can help you establish a chain of bakeries,” the princeling sneered, and then continued on towards a different table.
“That Dollnick didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get on our good side,” Samuel observed.
“One of Prince Kluge’s offspring,” the Drazen student informed them. “It’s a hassle when he comes to the dojo because all the other Dollys have to kowtow and they can’t hit him too hard in sparring. Don’t expect any help from the high status Dollnicks, and you should probably try to keep your meetings with the other ones quiet, if you know what I mean. Grude must have gotten excited when he recognized you and decided to gamble on making a quick impression. He really is a smart kid, and I’ll bet he knows more about colony ships than that spoiled princeling who grew up in a shipyard.”
“Do you want me to tell my parents about your police training idea?” Vivian asked.
“That’s up to you, but I want your approval to submit it as a special project. Ideas are a dime a dozen, but business is about implementation. Just think about all the personnel and budgeting issues. Will you plan on having Flower spend long enough at each stop for you to train the locals, or will she be a circuit ship running on a regular schedule?”
“We’re not going to be making those choices,” Samuel protested again. “Vivian just turned fifteen and I’m only seventeen.”
“I know that, it’s in the article,” Jorb said patiently. “But it only makes sense that the university will put the two of you at the head of the student committee for approving special projects and choosing the winners.”
“I didn’t see anything abou
t a student committee in the announcement.”
“It’s the typical Stryx thing, with representation for every species whether or not they have any stake in the outcome,” Lizant explained. “Hey, since you haven’t picked anybody yet, I’ll be your Frunge.”
“Ditto for Drazens,” Jorb offered.
“Fudge,” announced a Verlock student, setting down a plate artfully stacked with a pyramid of the stuff. “Safe for Humans.”
“You bought all this from the Gem?” Vivian asked.
“Business offering. I am Wrylenth.”
“Your offering is appropriate, Wrylenth,” Samuel responded, correctly recognizing the Verlock’s approach as an overture to negotiation and not wanting to accidentally give offence. “Please join us and share in your gift.”
Wrylenth settled his bulk onto the indestructible cafeteria chair and took up a slab of the fudge, examining it doubtfully. Then he forced the entire square into his mouth and swallowed without bothering to chew.
“Do you like it?” Vivian couldn’t help asking.
“Soft,” the Verlock replied. “Needs salt.”
Jorb took a couple of Drazen Burners from his side salad, held them on top of a piece of fudge with his second thumb, and took a bite. “Not bad. I vote we hear what the Verlock has to say.”
“Does it have grain in it?” Lizant asked.
“It’s just chocolate, condensed milk and butter,” Vivian said. “I gave the Gem my grandmother’s recipe.”
The Frunge girl broke the corner off a piece of fudge and took a nibble. “It might be better with cheese.”
“You’ll get sick if you eat all of that,” Vivian warned Samuel, who muttered something about already being sick from eating the long-since-expired vegan entrée, but put back the smaller of the two pieces he’d selected.
“Room for academy,” the Verlock said, without further preamble. “Teach math.”
“You mean on Flower?” Samuel asked. “I guess there is room, but what’s the advantage of a school that travels around?”
“Gifted students,” Wrylenth elaborated. “Colonies and outposts. Circuit academy.”