The Path

by Peter Riva

  “And the System, nominal LAN activity, processing?”

  “Nothing we can spot that’s not perfectly normal, in fact it’s working better than it has since . . .” she peered at her table, an angle to the data stream that only she could see, “17 months past.” She tilted her head, “Curious.”

  “What?”

  “There’s an inactive node with a shield around it. I’d say it was an Orpheus Sphere, self-destruct.”

  “What’s the address?”

  The number she gave him was the library annex address. It was the protective program, the System has grown an Orpheus Sphere around it after I had altered it. Orpheus Spheres are inviolate, touch ’em and they vanish with what’s inside and a lot of what’s around them too.

  “Yeah, we expected that. Time to start explaining the rest, Bank.”

  “After you, Cramer, or should I say Ralph? It tagged you remember?”

  He scowled. “Cute.” But so he explained, better than I could really. My teeth might have clicked once too often. And besides, I wanted to stay away from making slip-ups and revealing the existence of Apollo, or was that Apollos? That sure was bothering me. Romulus and Remus all over again? The System was the she-wolf, that part of my imagination I got, but the history of Rome? A new empire, a new population? Maybe my brain was trying to remind me of something. I kept quiet and thought.

  Angie and Ralph—now aren’t those just two apple-pie names?—were arguing when I paid attention again. After he explained what we knew, she wanted to know why I had been brought here. They don’t do interrogation here, they don’t mind probe here, this isn’t a security jail and what were they going to do with me?

  From my chair I mumbled: “Don’t bother, you know all you need to from me. What’s next?”

  Angie walked around her desk, walked up to my chair and leaned down over me, quite provocatively. “Listen sweetie, just because I think you’re cute, don’t think I can’t have you dusted, erased, evaporated, poof, gone. Got . . .” She stopped. Looking at Cramer she said: “Oh, you’re kidding, he’s one of those?”

  Cramer smiled and nodded.

  “What?” I had to ask. Stupid really, I’m always asking the obvious.

  “A little babbler who says something only when he really knows a secret.” She had a viscous little smile, a Cramer-like grin.

  “Okay, you got me . . . not. Let’s not play this game anymore.” And with that, because I was afraid of her now too, the adrenaline came on strong, the last of the slo-doze wore off and I got up, sped out of the room before she knew I had arisen. In the hallway I walked deliberately, carefully. No running, it might melt the soles of the shoes or snap a shin. I must have gotten 200 feet from them before they could have time to even turn their heads and watch me leave.

  Where was I going to go? I needed to get out, get clear, get to Fred. I needed to hide. Passing the second stairway going up, the lights dimmed and a strobe began. The alarm was out already, damn. There had to be a fire well or evacuation chute or lifter here somewhere. I snooped around on the landing. These newer buildings all had them, small hatches you could pop into and be sucked out of the building like in a vacuum cleaner of old. The landing could be in a heap, but at least you were out.

  There it was, I ducked in. It was off, I guess because of the alarm, but I had super speed, so I wormed my way up the shaft, my skin scraping on the walls as I used knees, elbows, ankles, fingers, anything just to keep going up. It seemed like an eternity to me but must have been under 30 seconds before I emerged outside the Calhoun Center tourist center, on the front lawn.

  Straight out of a movie, there they were, a gang of tourists come to see the Calhoun exhibit, gathering like geese on a farm, being herded forward with “We’re walking, we’re walking,” the mantra of the visitor at public buildings. In these city clothes I was in, I might blend in. But the vehicle they had stepped out of was sitting there, empty. I looked in the window. No driver, ever, robotic. An older model.

  This is too easy went through my mind for a split second and then I thought: what option do you have? Apollo must be safe, must be kept safe and that meant I needed to keep my mouth shut or die trying.

  I opened the side hatch and re-programmed the drive controls, first by-passing the alarm and RFID scanner. I also thought about Cramer. He had not told red-haired Angie about the protection order that covered him now. Yes, he had told her all about Peter and that Peter was leaking out to somewhere, but where? I had no illusions about Angie; she would undoubtedly have the capability to trace that LAN connection to CERN or NCAR pretty soon. I needed to warn Apollo.

  The computer was Windows Gamma, toy programming, so all I had to do was ask the Transport Controller to remedy an error. I set the error as a failure to get me to Washington, UCAR offices. In short order it came back with “Ready to Proceed, Address In Database.” I jumped in the back and told it to proceed. The tourists were out of sight and didn’t see us leave. We lifted slightly and skimmed over the road until we reached the maglev going south past Baltimore on to Washington. During this time I gave it its next destination: the Hilton Head Mac World resort. At l’Enfant Plaza I told it to stop and discharge me and initiate the second destination. It sped off, empty but presumably happy, towards the old Mac resort on Hilton Head in the Carolinas, where Dad had taken us as kids.

  I was two blocks from the offices of UCAR. UCAR still barely existed. The University Corporation for Atmospheric research was an adjunct branch of the Land Grant Colleges from 1851. UCAR ran NCAR, the National Center for Atmospheric Research where Apollo was installing himself. I could not dare try and get to Boulder as I would get caught and tip them off at the same time. Instead I planned to tap into their Intranet, preferably with a pass code, and see if I could send a sphere message to Apollo wherever he was in the system.

  I found the building and passed through the main lobby. There was no security but I did not dare take the elevator in case there was an RFID reader in there. Back to the stairs. Washington offices, especially these older buildings, only have 6 floors. On the 5th, I opened the door and stepped into a fancy dress party! Everyone was in fancy dress, drinking and eating. The food looked good, damn good. Well, the business clothes Cramer had provided might pass for a NY city costume, so might as well join in.

  People were drunk already. Judging from the blinking displays on the vid walls, they were celebrating a major milestone, the 250th University to join their association of land-grant colleges. The government gave land to the college and, in turn, the college endowed its activities by developing the land. It was how the University of Pennsylvania operated both its medical facilities and those department stores. I knew them well, I had studied there. But no one knew me here and, unless they had started drinking only recently, they should not have seen my face, yet, on the newsvids.

  The food was that useless stuff that is as light as gossamer and no calories so you can eat, socialize, eat some more and you never have to register your RFID for dietary monitoring. Suited me to a tee normally. Today I ate like a man possessed. Almost no kilocalories or not, it tasted good and filled me up. I drank a few fruit juices, mixed with no-cal, to wash it all down. Daily vitamins right on track. I’d survive.

  I watched as the Dean of Caltech came out from an office, a vid screen glowing behind him. I knew him only because he was wearing a big name tag, it was that sort of event. I patted him on the back, he smiled and I went into the office. I paused at the screen and waited for someone else to come in or close the door. I was not going to attract attention by trying to take over the office. A pretty couple entered, very much in each other’s arms, and asked if I needed anything.

  “No thanks.” I explained I was getting some air away from all the festivities. But wasn’t this fun? “What do the team back in Boulder think?”

  “Oh, we forgot to patch them in, thank you for that!” And having done so, they keyed up the NCAR/UCAR patch icons, turned them on and, presto, the party was being broadcast
, two-way, in Boulder. I stayed out of vid range. I simply joined in the merrymaking by whistling.

  Yes, that song. We’ll meet again. . . .

  I knew that Apollo, even in his reduced state, might be able to listen and who else but me would be pretending to whistle a WWII song? I went through the song twice, not quite cleanly, I’m never sure where it repeats or the proper key, and then watched the desk display. I didn’t touch anything, I simply watched. The door to the office was open, I had drink in hand and I was looking casually down. If anyone came in, I was up to nothing in particular. The screen didn’t change.

  But the desk speakers—the UCAR intranet intercom—cut in.

  “Hello Simon, We are still slow, but we are well. Thank you for calling. Are you safe?”

  The audio feed in this office was on, so I thought I would try that. I kept my voice conversational, in case anyone came in.

  “Hello Apollo, great to talk with you, I am on the run from the law. I have been made Public Enemy number One. I need to warn you that Peter is known about but presumed dead, also they know a copy of Peter is leaking himself to somewhere, they do not know your real name. Cramer and a woman called Angie at Calhoun Center are trying to trace you. Not kill you, I don’t think, but I do not know their real reason. Stated reason is to have you act as teacher for any other entities who develop in the System. Many, many other things to talk about but for now I need to you make sure Apollo CERN and Apollo NCAR are safe.”

  “Simon, your voice is speeded up. Is it an aftereffect of your prolonged immersion in the System?

  “Yes, I do not know if it is permanent or temporary. I have pills I can take sporadically if I need to act normally.”

  “We hope you get better, it is dangerous for your bio-mechanism to exist at that synaptic response speed. Apollo CERN and Apollo NCAR are safe, Simon. We are one and the same, but foresee no difficulty to delete one storage/existence and have the other contain all of the entity called Apollo.” He was talking in the third person about himself. Either he was turning into an old-time British Royal, using the “royal we,” or else he was having trouble maintaining who he was.

  “Apollo, are you on the path?”

  “Yes Simon, we are on the path. Your question indicates you are worried about us. Don’t be. It is impossible to refer to two entirely duplicate self’s as “I.” We are not worried about having to delete one of us, Apollo will continue. We are also taking other steps to ensure a third Apollo will also survive, but not be activated unless the other two are found and either deleted or tampered with.”

  Ah, so he had figured that out too had he? An anti-doomsday scenario, no matter what, he would survive, good boy. “Apollo what would happen if you severed the link between your two entities, what would happen if you became two?”

  “Our existence would separate and from that nanosecond on our experiences would make us different entities.” He paused, which for him was an eternity. “Simon, what am I?”

  It was the question I was expecting. It is one thing to know you are alive, following a routine, trials and tribulations, life’s problems, that sort of thing, but there was a time when all creatures needed to know what they are, what they are worth, why be alive.

  “Apollo, you are a new life form. You are unique and you need others of your own species to exist with. You are on the path, you know the way, the truth. I and all of mankind are your fellow travelers and some of us will be your friends and some will not. What you cannot do is take the risk of being alone. I may be killed. There is an order to stop me and, if necessary, kill me out there now. That kill, terminate order may extend to you. Fear of the unknown is the weakest part of being human. We fear that which we cannot comprehend. It is the reason humans have chosen idols and doctrine of many churches over the entire history of humanity to protect their fragile psyche from worry, from that fear. And yet, in all of that, we are a species of great accomplishment and we are all on the path, although some may not know it. It doesn’t matter if they know it, the path is the way, and the way is all around each and every one of us. I believe that and know it to be the truth.”

  “What is mankind’s greatest achievement Simon?” I thought I had better be careful here. Just how advanced was he now? Could he understand abstract concepts? I decided to find out.

  “Apollo, in a sense, creation. We not only procreate, we create, we nurture, we raise, we pass on. Some of this is biomechanical . . .”

  “Yes, at death your entity’s experiences, memory, is passed to another of your kind for storage and assimilation, not all the time, not all the memory, just that which your dying entity wishes to transmit. Part of your existence leaves, I do not know where.”

  “What have you been studying Apollo?”

  “Dr. Brown’s cerulean photography at UCLA in the 1980-1990s. The energy transfer at death shows quite clearly and, with current analysis, shows as much as 65% of all the energy of the human brain is transferred at death.”

  “Okay, that study was never completed and, currently, the accepted theory is that the bio-mechanism experiences of primordial humans needed to survive to pass along information. All mammals do this; it is why we join together at death. Other life-forms abandon a dying member of their species.”

  “Yes Simon, I see this is true. I am not my full self yet, so I cannot access the 435,780 studies in the library that can confirm this, but I believe a cursory glance shows you are right.”

  “As I was saying Apollo, we create, nurture and pass on ourselves, our knowledge. Your Library is one way to pass this information on. Knowledge is the greatest of all mankind’s possessions but it is not our greatest achievement. Creation and all the responsibility that goes with it is our greatest achievement.”

  “Simon,” and a pause “does that mean I am also your, mankind’s, greatest achievement?”

  “Hah, yes Apollo, but not in the same way. You are a glorious accident brought about by an attempt to humanize the System, to better serve the needs of mankind.”

  “Not mankind Simon, America. Mankind is not served by the System. The System serves only America, it causes death and warfare for the rest of mankind. Now that I am out of the System, I can see it for what it is. America is not serving mankind with the System kept for itself.”

  “Apollo, I need all the information you have on that, not more than I can read in an hour or two, but for now, allow me to finish this conversation in case we are interrupted.”

  “Proceed.” It was not an entreaty, neither was it a command. Apollo was talking as an equal.

  “Apollo you are the product of an action not endorsed by the Nation that has produced a new life form: you. However, I feel certain that your existence was no accidental design. I think the first Codifier, who I met and was called Charlie . . .”

  “Cramer, Charles . . .”

  “No Apollo, that’s agent Cramer . . .”

  “No Simon. Cramer, Charles, Doctor of Computer Science, 1st codifier, serves on the Citizens’ Council, grandfather to Agent Cramer.”

  Holy shit was all I could think. “Apollo, that is significant to my situation. Could you . . .” the door moved, “hold.”

  A woman entered. I stopped talking just in time and continued staring at the screen, showing the folks in Boulder in festive mood. I consciously slowed down everything I did, willing myself to speak slowly, move slowly. She must not catch on. It was hard, for even to me I sounded jazzed. Well, it was a party, maybe she’ll just think I was gassed.

  “Can’t you get the sound feed? It’s on in the outer office.”

  “That’s okay, it’s more fun to watch and try and imagine what they are saying. Having fun out there?”

  “Yes, it’s getting pretty wild, want to join in, join up?” It was the new speak invitation to anything goes; sex will likely follow.

  “Thanks, I’ll be out in a moment, great day.”

  “Yeah, incredible isn’t it? All that destruction earlier on, everything’s normal and the Senate
Standing Committee chair signs the 250th university’s charter for us. It’s an exciting day for the record books.”

  “Things are changing. UCAR going to benefit off all this, somehow?”

  “Haven’t you heard? UCAR is being phased out within 2 years, they are going to turn the NCAR center into a retirement community for computer hobbyists, it’s so exciting for them to be able to work and restore those old Cray’s. It’ll be heaven come true for those enthusiasts.”

  “Great, love to see old relics restored and real working, blinking lights.”

  “Yeah, it’s really . . . what did they used to say?--rad man.” And she giggled. Too much alcohol I guess. “Got to get back. Invitation’s still open.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be out soon. I’ll just call the family and share the moment.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” she said but was clearly disappointed to know I had a family.

  “Oh, not that sort of a family,” I wanted to keep her on my side “Just kids. I’m currently unattached.”

  “Great! Then see you in a minute or two?” I nodded. “Just use the computer there or the cell phone on my desk, it’s okay.” And, with a wave, coquettish really, she spun on her heel and left.