Long Paradise

by James Murdo

[If you must.]

  [You can remove anything you find suspect.]

  [Received – it’s fine.]

  [Are there any updates on the war?]

  [Nothing significant, no. Sensespace is still dormant, but also clearly a threat, so the galaxy remains in peril. Besides that, the destination of the Enclave’s next Confluence will be announced soon, and a detailed status report will undoubtedly be disseminated then.]

  [No major incidences to report?]

  [It’s been a quiet few thousand years with respect to the news you’re requesting.]

  [No changes then.]

  [Not really, no, Ciqalo. You’re still using your first-generation c-autom crew on your ship, so no changes there either.]

  [How do you know?]

  [I recognised the channel request sequence.]

  [Impossible.]

  [And why’s that?]

  [Requests are identical.]

  [To you maybe, Ciqalo, not to me. I also know you are uncommonly fond of your sibling, Apalu, and for its welfare. That leads me to wonder whether you are uncommonly fond of your c-autom crew, and have not initiated any of the routine culls against them. Therefore, I presume you are still using all of your first-generation c-automs. Satisfied?]

  [Clever. Well, the c-automs were designed to keep the craft-lects company, not to be destroyed or replaced.]

  [Not quite true, Ciqalo.]

  [There’s no need to cull them most of the time.]

  [Tell that to the others in your fleet.]

  …

  [Have I irritated you, Ciqalo?]

  [You are aware of the effect your communications have.]

  [Great. Look, I’ve enjoyed our chat, but I’m having a conversation with a neighbour in another portal. Is there anything else specific I can do for you? Temporary access to the exchange?]

  [Not this time.]

  [And you have an update, don’t you?]

  [Well done, again, Hastina, very insightful. Why else would I have come? Here – examine it for yourself.]

  Hastina took longer than usual.

  [Ah.]

  [Indeed.]

  [Well – this project does hold some promise.]

  [I know.]

  [If your observations of the item you have classified as 1!1 are correct, that’s possibly your last message to Apalu, when they choose you. You do realise?]

  [If they choose me.]

  [They will.]

  [Then yes, there’s a higher probability than usual that was my last message.]

  [And if you go after the anomaly and we fail to learn of the results when a reasonable amount of time has elapsed, you know what the Enclave will do, don’t you?]

  [Obviously.]

  [I’m obliged to check.]

  [A message will be sent through the data exchange network that I resumed typical craft-lect-like activities and am presumed lost. I know. Why don’t they just wait?]

  [Don’t ask me.]

  [But you usually have all the answers.]

  [I know.]

  [When the Enclave comes, can you direct them to me? I need to return and monitor my work. Tell them to be quick.]

  [You think an Enclave-lect would come for this?]

  [Surely–]

  [Do you realise how many projects like this they oversee? There are many portals such as mine.]

  [How many?]

  [That’d be a security breach, right there.]

  [Thousands?]

  [I’m not going to tell you. But no, I doubt they’ll come. They’ve got more important things to do.]

  [Like what?]

  [Like preparing for that Confluence I already told you about. Anyway, don’t you have an anomaly to prepare for?]

  A part of the bloom, a mass of tentacle-like protrusions extending from Ciqalo’s stern, flicked to the side, turning its ship-body around. Concurrently, the rest of the bloom straightened up, and Ciqalo was propelled away from the portal.

  2

  GERSTIAL

  Gerstial raised a finger to rotate the globe. Flexing all his fingers outwards to flatten his palm, the spinning globe sped over into the centre of the room and expanded. Its contours were traced ethereally in a range of blue shades, lighting up the room as it spun.

  “What do you see?” he asked.

  “The Foist homeworld?” Philsima asked, excitedly. “I know some Foist-Major – are we going to–”

  “Not quite,” Gerstial said kindly. “It’s not them.”

  “It’s a map of Lillea,” Beatrict II said. “The Roranian homeworld.”

  “Our world,” Gerstial II finished.

  “And?” Gerstial asked.

  Gerstial II looked between his parents. “It’s the centre of operations from where you control the Alexis-Meld.”

  Gerstial raised his eyebrows humorously at Beatrict, who smiled patiently back.

  “It won’t be that way forever,” Beatrict said, gesturing to Gerstial and herself. “Leadership of the meld will be yours someday.” She looked at her three children. “All of yours.” She walked closer to the holo. “Look here.” She lifted her hands to gesticulate certain commands, causing the globe to expand into a shimmering, curved wall. Finally, she clenched one hand into a fist. The map spun more rapidly, before freezing.

  “Will this take long?” Beatrict II asked, looking narrow-eyed between her parents.

  “Trict,” her mother replied, pointing at a part of the map. “Where is this?”

  Before Beatrict II could reply, Philsima, her younger sister, interrupted. “It’s our home, isn’t it?”

  “Right this time, Phils.” Gerstial ruffled her thick, black hair. “Well done.”

  “And there’s us!” Philsima said excitedly.

  Five green points were visible in the blue-edged representation of their room. Other green points were right outside the door, and all around the structure.

  “There we are,” Gerstial said with a slight nod. He clicked his fingers. Three of the points in the room turned from green to blue, along with all the points in the rest of the holo. Only two green dots remained.

  “That’s Trict and Phils,” Gerstial II said, falling silent as Beatrict II shot him a sharp look.

  “Correct,” Gerstial said, looking at his two daughters with a soft smile. “Trict and Phils.”

  “And do you know why we’re showing you this?” Beatrict added.

  “We’ve not got the Alexis-rings, yet,” Philsima practically shouted in excitement. “I’m nine, it’s my turn. Trict’s just being silly–”

  “Shut up, Philsima.”

  “She doesn’t want one!”

  “Shut–”

  “Your sister has her own opinions,” Gerstial said quickly to Philsima. “Nothing wrong with that.” He turned to Beatrict II, with a look of hope. “But Phils isn’t wrong… neither of you do have an Alexis-ring.”

  Beatrict II turned her head upwards and locked eyes with him. “They don’t work for everyone.”

  “The numbers they don’t work for are negligible.”

  “That’s not everyone.”

  “That may be true, but you–”

  “I like being who I am. Is that why you asked us here – to try to force me to get one? I like who I am!”

  “This won’t change that.” Beatrict took a step closer to her daughter too. “We want you as you are, this is to help you. You can still eat, if you choose. We don’t want to stop you being our Trict, and no one will stop you using a food dispenser, I promise. This is only designed to make your life easier.”

  “They help everyone, Trict!” Philsima said, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

  Beatrict II glared at her younger sister. “Stop just repeating what you’ve heard,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Listen to mother and father,” Gerstial II said sternly to his sister.

  Gerstial frowned, waving his hand to stop the arguing. “Of course they help, Trict. That’s why our meld is one of the largest ever seen. Alexis-rings are impor
tant.”

  Beatrict took her daughter’s hand. “Disorders connected with nourishment, and many, many others have been abolished. Society has been helped, extremely… and that’s due to the Alexis-rings. Alexis technology is beneficial to all Roranians, even those few who can’t use them for themselves.” She knelt down and took Beatrict II’s other hand as well. “If you don’t like it, we can always reverse the procedure afterwards.”

  “But… some people die, immediately! What about other problems they cause?” Beatrict II said. “And who wants to–”

  “You’re being silly!” Philsima shouted, quietening as Beatrict shot her a firm look.

  “Trict, that’s very rare,” Gerstial said, soothingly.

  “We understand your reticence,” Beatrict said, shaking Beatrict II’s hands to command her attention. “I understand your reticence, I really do. You’re right to be concerned. It means you’re smart.”

  “It’s not about me being smart, it’s about my choice. It’s my body!” Beatrict II pulled both her hands from her mother’s grasp and stormed out of the room. The automatic doors flung open rapidly before her, much to the surprise of the guards waiting outside.

  Beatrict straightened up and sighed, looking towards Gerstial.

  “She’ll see sense, in time,” Gerstial said, quietly.

  “She will.” Beatrict looked at her other daughter. “At least there’s no doubt for you, Phils.”

  3

  CIQALO

  Arriving back at the location of its project, Ciqalo’s bloom burgeoned out and then compressed into a flattened sphere. The ship’s thrust was dampened, and it drifted slowly through the outer concealment matrix, coming to a complete stop just before the boundary of the inner protective matrix.

  Ciqalo sent out various orders, and requested a nearby drone send back the data collected during its absence.

  [555<0>!110010.]

  {Yes, Ciqalo?}

  [Expand the ship’s concealment fields to encompass the outer matrix.]

  {Up to the current matrix boundary?}

  [Yes.]

  {The external c-automs are coming back?}

  [It’s time.]

  Ciqalo observed the ship’s fields reshaping, expanding their scope to take the place of the incumbent fields that had been generated by a group of external c-automs. Most craft-lects would not have countenanced their c-automs residing away from the ship, but Ciqalo had been experimenting. The long stretches engaged in observation of item 1!1 at the centre of the matrices had given it plenty of time to conduct its own research. Ciqalo raised a group channel with the external c-automs controlling the redundant fields.

  [Come back to me.]

  There was no response, although the field projections were immediately cancelled, and the c-autom-controlled instruments stopped rotating. They all changed their trajectories to return to the ship.

  Ciqalo turned its attention to the inner matrix, set at a two-hundred-kilometre radius around item 1!1. Unlike the outer matrix, the instruments providing the protection were completely stationary, and connected to each other by powerful yellow-tinged beams. They were spaced equidistantly in a geodesic sphere. Ciqalo disseminated orders to deconstruct the matrix and establish a less permanent protection mechanism from within the ship.

  With the required processes underway, Ciqalo directed part of its intellectual might to the various sensor feeds focused on the item which held so much promise. Item 1!1 – the focus of the project. It was right at the epicentre of the constructed matrices, completely engulfed in a thick mass of equipment.

  Ciqalo opened a communication channel with the last external c-autom that had not yet been called back. 421<0>!001011 – its highest-level crew member. It had not been involved with the operation of the external matrices. Instead, Ciqalo had tasked it with observing and analysing item 1!1, alongside itself as a rudimentary check, or in its stead when Ciqalo’s presence was required elsewhere.

  [421<0>!001011 – has anything changed with item 1!1?]

  {Some changes, but nothing unexpected, Ciqalo.}

  [The attenuation rate is unchanged.]

  {Yes – weaker readings, but within projections.}

  [How long before the anomaly we’ve detected is too weak?]

  {Ten standard days, at most.}

  [The magnification system can’t provide further enhancement?]

  {Not that I am able to ascertain.}

  [You’re becoming quite independent, 421<0>!001011.]

  {I’m just following orders, Ciqalo.}

  [Your analysis is correct. Come back to me but continue to analyse 1!1.]

  {Yes, Ciqalo.}

  After cancelling the channel, Ciqalo commenced a re-analysis of all the information obtained so far.

  4

  GERSTIAL

  Gerstial II threw the flybo back to Tolren, who watched it intently as it hurtled towards him. Upon nearing his hands, it lurched upwards and whizzed high into the air. Tolren kept his eye on the flybo as it reached the top of its ascent, arced and began to drop back down. He raced along to wait directly below – palms together, hands open.

  “Big Gerst and Big Trict making little Trict do it, yet?” Tolren said, throwing the flybo back.

  As the flybo neared Gerstial II, it suddenly changed direction, as before, racing up and away. He ran over to where he thought it was going to land, realising at the last moment he had misjudged it quite significantly, and dived forward to catch it. With a successful thump, it landed in his outstretched right hand.

  “No,” Gerstial II said, huffing and rising to his feet. “They’d never force her.”

  “Really?”

  “Mother possibly… but even then, they haven’t yet.” He laughed, before looking more serious. “They say it’s her choice, it’s just…”

  “Everyone on Lillea gets it done when they’re nine,” Tolren finished for him.

  “Exactly. She’s twelve.”

  Tolren shrugged.

  Gerstial II continued. “And others will talk about it. Mother and Father are concerned about rumours, and competitors. C’mon, it wouldn’t take a Quillian to point out there’s an issue. If they can’t persuade us to use the technology–”

  “I get it, I get it.”

  “It won’t be good for the meld.”

  “Fine, but Quillians?” Tolren laughed. “No one listens to them anyway.” He looked more serious. “Does it really matter to you that much?”

  Gerstial II looked at Tolren with a confused expression and threw the flybo back. “Of course it matters.”

  Tolren ran to wait under the falling flybo. “Before Lillea, where I was born–”

  “Nirloden!” Gerstial II shouted.

  “Very funny.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be a paradise.” Gerstial II grinned.

  “What? Worst place in the whole Alliance?!” Tolren said animatedly, catching the flybo. “No – not Nirloden, only a few systems away from here, near the centre, as you know. Well, anyway, the age for Alexis-rings is eleven there.”

  “But your father moved you here!”

  “Only because your parents wanted the best implantation specialist for the upper-levels of the Alexis-Meld. Not because he disagreed with the implantation age.” Tolren threw the flybo back.

  Gerstial II barely had to move. The flybo dropped almost directly above where he was already standing. “You’ve spent most of your life here too, Tolren. With us. And anyway, Father’s trying to encourage the other territories to reduce the age. They’re even considering reducing it here.”

  “That’s not my point.”

  Gerstial II threw the flybo towards Tolren. “What d’you mean?”

  “I mean… does it really matter when she gets an Alexis-ring?”

  “It’s silly not to,” Gerstial II said. “She’s always forgetting to eat anyway.”

  “It’s what our bodies are evolved to do.”

  They continued arguing about it, until Gers
tial II caught the flybo and waited before throwing it. “Why’re you sticking up for her?” he asked, suspiciously.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then stop being stupid!”

  “Fine.” Tolren raised his hands, impatiently. “Come on, throw it back.”

  Gerstial II threw it wider than was fair, and Tolren had to race back, barely managing to catch it as it fell. He readied himself for an equally awkward return, but Tolren jogged closer and threw it more generously.

  “Sorry,” Gerstial II mumbled. “I didn’t mean to throw it so hard.”

  “It’s fine,” Tolren said. “And… I get it, it seems weird to want to go through the process of using a dispenser and putting food into your mouth when you don’t have to.”

  “And disgusting!” Gerstial II replied, his smile returning. “Anyway, hasn’t your dad put Alexis-rings into our animals yet? If it’s a matter of resources, I’m sure I could ask my father to arrange–”

  “Oi!” Tolren said.

  Gerstial II sniggered.

  “Sometimes, Gerst,” Tolren said. “You don’t realise how lucky you are.”

  “I know I am.”

  Tolren pressed an indent on the flybo and threw it back – it did not race upwards, but continued on its initial trajectory, almost hitting Gerstial II in the stomach.

  “You’ve turned it off!” Gerstial II shouted, jogging over to pick it up. “I said I was sorry!”

  Tolren laughed. “I’m sorry too.”

  Gerstial threw it back, just missing Tolren. “Come on, turn it back on.”

  “Why didn’t you just do it?”

  “You’ve got it now. You do it,” Gerstial II said.

  “Just because my family works for yours, doesn’t make you smarter than me,” Tolren said.

  “Doesn’t it?” Gerstial II stuck his tongue out.

  “Unless you’ve been conducting genetic experiments, then no.”

  Gerstial smiled and caught the flybo. “Shall we set it to maximum?”

  “Go on, then.”

  5

  CIQALO

  A small ship came within sensor range, signalling its Wanderer credentials. 339<0>!110001 alerted Ciqalo that communication was being requested.

  [It’s an Enclave vessel?]