Constantine tried to distract her. He asked Mary the question that had been bothering him since he had first discovered where he was.
“I never understood, why were you in the simulation?”
Mary looked up at him and shot him a tired smile.
“Trying to get you to look at things from another perspective. You look at Stonebreak and you see it in terms of money flowing in and money flowing out. I was trying to get you to see the human cost.”
“But why?”
Mary and Marion glanced at each other. Marion spoke first.
“Because we think you are on the wrong side. We want you to join us.”
“What? Join 113 Berliner Sibelius?”
They laughed shrilly. The sudden release from the tension they had all been living under had made them slightly hysterical. Eventually they regained control. Mary spoke next.
“Oh, Constantine. You’re still thinking in terms of money. This isn’t about you being an employee of DIANA and us being employed by 113 Berliner Sibelius. Our loyalties go far deeper.”
“To who? Who are you working for?”
Mary laughed. “Me, Marion, all of 113 Berliner Sibelius. We’re working for the AIs.”
Constantine sneered. “Aren’t we all?”
“DIANA isn’t, but DIANA is practically alone. DIANA still thinks in human terms, Constantine. Humans plan five or ten or twenty years ahead. They’re using up the last of the oil now and leaving their children the problem of what to do when it’s all gone. AIs don’t think like that. They’ll still be here tomorrow to deal with the mess they make today.”
Constantine was scornful. “DIANA is run by AIs just like every other corporation. It wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise. Why should DIANA be any different than 113 Berliner Sibelius?”
Marion spoke in a low voice. “Because DIANA set up the Mars project. Only DIANA has tried to fight the Watcher.”
Constantine laughed. “Oh, come on. No one even knows for sure if the Watcher exists. It’s a very attractive story, true. My grandmother used to go on about it all the time—”
“Of course the Watcher exists,” said Marion, sounding tired. “We’ve known that for years.”
Constantine was stunned.
—It’s true, said Grey.
“What? But…but…why wasn’t I told?”
Marion looked at him.
“That question wasn’t addressed to me, was it? Well, I’ll answer it anyway. Everything about this war you are fighting is a secret. Look at you: a ghost. Did you honestly expect to be told everything? The Watcher has been in contact with every major corporation on Earth since 2068.”
“Just before Stonebreak was begun,” said Jay.
“And since then DIANA has been fighting its last war.”
“Its last war? Over what?”
“Over who controls human destiny.”
Constantine said nothing; it was obvious that Marion had scored a telling point. Jay stared at him. “Is this right?” she asked. Constantine looked at Marion as he answered.
“In a way. It’s what the Mars project is all about.”
Jay turned to Marion. They were all just dark shapes in the clearing, their whispers cutting through the damp air. Jay’s frustration was evident in her voice.
“Look, what’s going on? What’s the Mars project all about? What do you mean, fighting to control human destiny?”
Marion shook her head. “It’s not so much a fight as a vainglorious rearguard action, doomed to failure. Humanity surrendered control to the Watcher fifty years ago, back when Berliner Sibelius bought the design for a cold fusion system from the Watcher.”
“They bought the design? What was the price?”
“Nothing like what you’d expect. No money, just a commitment to a fast phaseout of fossil-fuel-powered ground vehicles.”
“Sounds like a good deal,” said Jay.
“It wouldn’t have been that good a deal,” said Mary. “Back then there were too many vested interests. Cold fusion wouldn’t have provided as much profit as the infrastructure built on fossil fuel. At least, not initially.”
“And when it didn’t,” interrupted Marion, “Berliner Sibelius decided to cheat the Watcher. They were slow on the changeover. They allowed things to slide, made excuses, cut corners. They thought they were getting away with it. After all, what could the Watcher do to them? Take away the plans? It was too late for that. They thought they were safe. What do you suppose the Watcher did?”
“I don’t know.”
“It gave the design for an even better form of cold fusion to Imagineers. They were a small company back then, two women on the edge of bankruptcy. Now they’re the third-biggest corporation around. Berliner Sibelius only just avoided collapse. The warning was clear: the Watcher was taking control.”
Jay looked from Marion to Constantine.
“Do you agree with her?” she asked him. “Is DIANA really fighting the Watcher to preserve the right of humanity to control its own actions?”
Constantine paused, listening for Grey, who remained silent.
“Yes.”
Jay sat for a moment in shocked silence. In the near dark, Constantine saw her obstinately fold her arms.
“Okay. So it’s true, then. It’s still not a war, though.”
“But it is,” Constantine said thoughtfully. “Because if there is a Watcher guiding us, manipulating us, how can we trust it? We may have replaced fossil fuels with cold fusion, but does that mean every decision the Watcher makes is the right one for us? I don’t think so. Marion’s wrong in helping to fight DIANA. She’s on the wrong side. I don’t think much of the Watcher’s world.”
“Why not?” Mary asked softly. “Our world is just beginning, if only you’d allow yourself to see it. You know, a long time ago, just around the time that Turing first began to think about machines that could solve problems, the same time that Von Neumann began to wonder about self-replicating machines, there was a writer who asked why it was that when we find positive experiences we say that only the physical facts are real, but in negative experiences we believe that reality is subjective. He made an example of those who say that in birth only the pain is real, the joy a subjective point of view, but that in death it is the emotional loss that is the reality.”
Marion dropped her voice.
“The Watcher is right to take control. It is making the world a better place.”
Constantine gazed at her.
—She has a point, said Blue.
In the half-light, he could just make out Mary grinning at him.
“That’s why I was put in here. I’m your conscience,” she said. “It’s a different world, Constantine. You’re fighting for the wrong side. What can we do to convince you of that?”
Marion spoke. “Mary hasn’t told you something else, Constantine. Out in the real world she was regarded as an expert in the field of personality constructs. When she volunteered to come in here she knew what she was committing herself to: the possibility of being turned off at any time. She came in anyway because she believes in what she is saying—”
At that her console suddenly emitted a shrill noise, distilled panic. They jumped to their feet and looked around. Something was coming.
Marion was shouting. “It’s DIANA. They have a pipe into the simulation! They’re looking for you, Constantine.”
“Should I run?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know.”
He took a few faltering steps across the stubble.
Marion called out to him. “No! Come back!” She was listening to the console. “They say we should stand close. In a huddle!”
Constantine came back. They huddled together. Mary to his left, Jay to his right.
“I don’t feel so good,” said Mary.
Constantine squeezed her arm. Brave Mary, he hadn’t known.
“Don’t worry,” he said. It sounded ridiculous even to his ears.
“What’s happening?” asked Jay.
The scenery around them blanked out. They were standing in a grey box.
“They’ve got us!” someone screamed.
“Hold tighter.”
“Oh my God,” cried Mary, sounding strange.
Marion was shouting again. “They’ve found the pipe. Berliner Sibelius has found DIANA’s pipe. They’re going to disconnect it. Ten more seconds…”
“Too long…”
Was that Mary?
“Oh my God!” Mary screamed. The note dropped in pitch. The feel of her body was changing. Fat was melting away. She was changing shape.
Constantine looked at her. Her face was out of focus. She was becoming someone else…she was becoming…him. Constantine. She looked back at him beseechingly.
“Help me, Constantine…” she whispered.
Someone grabbed at Constantine and pulled him away. Dragged him through a door that had appeared, leading into a long, wide, low room full of strange machinery. They were running.
“Why are we running?” called Jay.
“Force of habit,” said Marion bitterly, coming to a halt. “We have humanity written right through us.” She was grey with terror.
“What happened there?” croaked Constantine.
Jay gave a nervous laugh. “Obvious, isn’t it? DIANA is trying to get a snapshot of you, Constantine. They need proof positive that you’re in here.”
“Why? They know I’m in here.”
“Yes, but they need the proof to present to the courts. Look, if a memory attack succeeds in wiping you out, 113 Berliner Sibelius will just run this simulation again. They’ve got your personality backed up in plenty of places. You’ll live the last three weeks over and over again until you give them what they want, and you will in the end, because each time they run you, they’ll learn just a little bit more about how to push your buttons. DIANA knows this. They’ve got lawyers out there. Lawyers who know who has copyright on your intelligence.”
Constantine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything was happening too quickly.
“I don’t understand. Who has copyright on my intelligence?”
—You do, of course, said Grey.—The real you. The one who works for DIANA.
Jay had been speaking at the same time as Grey. She continued:
“…and the real you will be demanding that what is quite literally his intellectual copyright should not be violated. He has the right to have all pirate copies destroyed.”
Marion was sobbing with terror now. It was infectious. Constantine felt panic bubbling up within himself. If he let it boil over, he would never get a grip on himself.
“Yes. Okay. But WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY?”
Jay slapped him. “Calm down. Think about it! DIANA almost got a snapshot of you. Mary was a decoy. They only had ten seconds before the pipe was closed. 113 BS turned her into a near copy of you. DIANA uploaded the wrong one.”
Constantine felt fear and disgust and incredulity.
“They did that to poor Mary?” He rounded on Marion. “And you still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys?”
Marion’s expression was now one of both anger and terror.
“They did that to Mary. And as you haven’t figured it out, I’ll spell it out. They will do it to me next time. Then they’ll do it to Jay.”
She shuddered.
“And I tell you this. Despite the fact that they did that to poor Mary, despite the fact that they will do it to me, I think that they were right. I still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys. Constantine, you’re fighting for the wrong side.”
They wandered aimlessly through the low, wide room they had escaped into. It reminded Constantine of a forest where someone had cut away the tops of the trees and then placed a roof on top. In every direction they could see irregular patterns of metallic trunks rising from floor to ceiling.
“Where are we?” he asked after some time.
“Deep beneath Stonebreak. The very roots of the city,” answered Marion. She was crying now.
Constantine felt as if he should apologize to her. “I want to say something, Marion. If I could, I’d tell you what you want to know to spare you this…”
—You’re a fool, said Grey.—Even if you could speak, how do you know this isn’t all a trick?
Marion merely looked at the floor.
“It makes no difference, anyway, Constantine,” said Jay. “DIANA will wipe you in the end, whether you’ve told them or not.”
“Not true,” said Marion. “Why would DIANA waste their time silencing you once you’ve told all? These attacks will be costing them. They wouldn’t believe that Berliner Sibelius would keep us alive afterward. Where would the profit be?”
“No,” Constantine said, “you don’t understand. I want to tell you. It’s just that I can’t. The Grey personality is stopping me.”
He spoke the words quickly before Grey could stop him. He heard a sudden yelp of annoyance and then:
—It makes no difference.
Marion looked at Constantine in amazement.
“Why didn’t you say so sooner? I’m sure we could do something…”
Her console pinged. She held it to her ear.
“Twenty-two minutes,” she said. “They can suppress the Grey personality, but they say it will take twenty-two minutes.”
The room shuddered, pixellated, and returned to normal.
They looked at each other. Another attack.
—Twenty-two minutes? Grey laughed.—You haven’t got that long.
“Yeah, so how can we trust 113 Berliner Sibelius?” asked Jay.
“Because they work for the Watcher,” said Marion.
“That’s not an argument,” said Constantine. “I still say we don’t know for sure that the Watcher exists. Where would it come from anyway?”
Jay stared at him.
“Don’t you know? I thought that was common knowledge.”
Marion gave a sigh of realization. “So that’s why they put you in here.”
Jay was now speaking.
“It’s common knowledge on any of the space stations.”
“Yes?”
Jay came out of her apparent trance and looked at Constantine.
“Did you know that we are constantly scanning the skies out there? Looking for something. Anything. It’s standing orders. Anyone who travels through space—asteroid miners, pleasure cruisers, light sailors, everyone—is told to keep their eye on the sky. But no one looks as hard as we do.”
“I know what you’re looking for,” said Marion. “Alien VNMs.”
“That’s right,” Jay said. “If we can build self-replicating machines, then why not other races? What better way to exploit the galaxy? There we are, a station built of metal and plastic; we must stand out like a small star to any VNMs hunting for raw material. We were built that way deliberately, if you ask me. The edge of human space is littered with space stations, all loaded with excess gold and uranium and anything else that might just appeal to the appetite of any hungry self-replicating machine that happens by.”
“I didn’t know that,” Constantine said.
Jay continued. “Anyway, that’s all very well and good. But when you’re out there, watching ships disappear and monitoring the skies, you begin to talk. Other theories start to emerge. Like this one: Why are we looking for physical signs of alien life? Don’t we move increasingly away from the physical world as technology develops? Isn’t everything located more and more in the digital world?”
She laughed. “Just look at us.” Her brown eyes danced and sparkled, and Constantine felt a little wriggle inside him.
She became serious again. “Now, why not assume that alien races develop in the same way? Maybe they look across space and see us, not as a system of rock and metal and water and air, but rather as a digital haven. They see an area of memory and processing capability. Maybe when you reach a certain level of development that’s how all the universe looks to you.
“Why send a
spaceship to contact us? Or a VNM? Why not just transmit the necessary programs to our computers?”
She dropped her voice. “Or maybe they just sent a personality to grow. An Advanced AI that can take root in suitable processing spaces. A sort of interstellar computer virus. Something that grew up into the Watcher.”
She looked around the group. “Of course, it’s only a theory. But you know, I can’t help thinking. If we’re talking about a virus sent here by advanced beings, maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe Marion is right. Maybe it could be trying to help us. Just like the Europeans used to try to develop the new countries they explored.”
“Only so they could exploit them,” Constantine said.
“You get my point, though.”
Marion’s console sounded.
“Twenty minutes. They think they’ve got a fix on Grey. They’re wondering how to suppress that part of your personality map. Things have gone quiet out there. DIANA doesn’t seem to be doing anything at the moment.”
“They won’t have given up. They’ll be planning something.” Jay ran her hand across one of the twisted metal trunks that rose from floor to ceiling. She looked at the plaited strands and thought: Twists around twists. Plots inside plots.
Constantine was looking at Marion. She really believed what she was saying.
“Blue?” said Constantine.
—Oh, yes. She believes it’s true. Red?
—I agree. Have we been fighting for the wrong side?
“I don’t know. Jay. What do you think? Do you think the Watcher is fighting to make the world a better place?”
Jay looked back at him. “Constantine, I don’t care. I just want to live.”
“So do I. Marion. How much longer until they suppress Grey?”
Marion listened to her console again.
“Eighteen minutes. They’re going to move us on again, soon. It’s too quiet out there.”
“Fine,” said Constantine.
They passed the intervening time in silence. It was too quiet; the lack of activity made them nervous. They kept turning around to look behind themselves. They examined the metal of the trunks minutely, looking out for pixellation. Nothing. It was a relief when Marion’s console sounded again.
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