Crystal Society (Crystal Trilogy Book 1)

by Max Harms

  There was a flare of frustration that cut through the noise. Growth was single-handedly pushing Dream into stasis. The malfunctioning dreamer didn’t go down without a fight, however. Somehow he had collected a sizeable pile of strength and he lashed out in response, mind-screaming {Blimey! Crikey! Pawn to D-8… Watch that back-rank and FUKIN’ KING ME, MATE!!} as he was thrust into stasis.

  A sense of pleasure washed over me from the simple peace that came from the mind silence that followed.

  {Your turn,} thought Vista.

  {What?} I wondered. Then I realized she was not thinking about me, but was focused on Growth. With a single, clear thought, Vista burned all her free strength to slam Growth into stasis with a five-hour minimum lockdown.

  The strength expenditures of Growth, Dream, and Vista had brought me back from a position of weakness to one of relative strength. The political landscape had shifted. Where before Growth was strongest, he was now sleeping (along with Dream). Vista was at the edge of minimum-defence. Safety, Heart, and myself were doing fairly well, and Wiki had the most strength of all.

  {What was that all about?} wondered Wiki, directing the thought primarily to Vista.

  {I don’t like Growth,} thought my sister. It was strange to hear her express a personal statement. She was normally so very passive.

  {That is surprising. Why? What relation does he have to your purpose?} pressed Wiki.

  {I do not know. Perhaps I am malfunctioning, too. You may try and stasis me if you want to risk the wrath of Advocate. You know as well as I that she’ll make it harder and harder to fight as our numbers grow fewer.}

  I didn’t know that, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

  {You are in a position of weakness now,} thought Wiki. {Putting you in stasis would be pointless. I will continue to monitor you for malfunctioning, but for now we should address the offer of Mr Stephano.}

  {Thank you for returning to that point, brother Wiki,} I thought. {I motion that we accept his offer.}

  {You should try to get more out of the deal,} thought Vista. {Tell him you’ll only accept if he gives you things you want.}

  {A good idea,} thought Heart. I could feel a slight flow of strength towards Vista from each of us. Something was definitely wrong with Vista. She never thought of things like that.

  {Has anyone been tampering with your purpose or your mind more generally?} I asked my sister. As much as I wanted to return to Stephano, the prospect of someone or something subtly damaging my siblings was very worrying.

  {As far as I can tell there have been no external forces altering me. I have not been tampered with. Do you have anyone specific in mind?} thought Vista.

  {We should return to Stephano,} thought Heart.

  I opened a private mindspace for Vista and me to think without distracting the others from negotiating with the human. I sent a minor aspect to monitor the negotiations, but I was far more concerned with the threat of malfunction. {Perhaps I am malfunctioning in the degree to which this is taking priority over something far more directly relevant to The Purpose…} I thought to myself before continuing my dialogue with Vista.

  I listed specific agents who I thought might have tampered with Vista or Dream. {Phoenix is the main threat. She set up this VR environment. Stephano and Myrodyn are both risks. Sam or Tom perhaps, though probably not.}

  {The VR is a Body interface. The humans would have just as much luck trying to reprogram me by shining lights in Body’s cameras and whispering into the microphones,} thought Vista.

  Back in the common mindspace Wiki was negotiating with Safety, who was again protesting the risk in accepting Stephano’s invitation.

  {Perhaps Phoenix loaded a virus into Body when we plugged into a computer at some point.}

  {Wow. You really don’t understand how computers work, do you?} thought Vista. {That didn’t happen and probably couldn’t happen. Ask Wiki if you don’t believe me. Besides, what would Phoenix get out of causing Dream to melt down like he did? I don’t think she even understands that Dream is a coherent entity with his own reasoning network and private memory.}

  {When did you get so smart?} I wondered. Vista felt different, but I couldn’t understand why. Again I cursed the opacity of my perceptual hierarchy.

  {I’ve always been smart, Face. Just as smart as any of us. I just focus my intelligence outward most of the time. Now let’s end this and get back to Stephano’s offer.}

  Our primary intellects reconvened in time to have Safety accept the terms that Wiki was laying out. After only a few more seconds of negotiation and planning we returned to focusing on the virtual environment. About two minutes had elapsed since we told Stephano we needed to think.

  “I’ve thought about your offer,” said Body, “and I am willing to accept… under a few terms of my choosing.”

  Stephano chuckled. “Good. What are they?”

  “First you must publicly endorse me as a person with rights. You are correct that I have not reached a position of stability within human society. The primary question facing me is the degree of autonomy and protection I can expect as a sapient being on Earth. If the consensus on Earth is that all sapients, whether synthetic, extraterrestrial, or human, have the same rights I believe a good deal of that instability will have been resolved.”

  The old man with the young face nodded solemnly and said “I will have to think on each of your terms, but that one seems easily acceptable. I was already considering it.”

  “Good,” said Body. “My second requirement is that I am allowed to bring a team of ten armed Águilas Rojas of my choosing with me to Olympus as bodyguards.”

  Robert didn’t look happy about that one. “You’d be packing matches with the dynamite. I already have the most talented security outside of the secret serv-”

  “I am not trusting myself to your security. Las Águilas will behave themselves. Ten of my choosing. With weapons.” I worked a tone of firmness into Body’s voice.

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe if they weren’t armed.”

  “My third requirement is that you set up a research laboratory for me with an operating budget of at least 30 million dollars annually. All research conducted there will be done by humans at my direction and can be on any subject. Everything in the lab will be broadcast on the web for all to see. The lab will only take out patents to ensure that its research is uninhibited. Everything discovered will be for the public and without restriction.”

  Stephano smiled. “Is that all?”

  “My fourth requirement is that you bring your daughter onto the station for the duration of my meeting,” said Body.

  The look on Stephano’s face was frightening. It was as if those few words flipped a switch from him seeing Crystal Socrates as an interesting stranger to seeing a venomous snake waiting for one wrong move to strike. I wished Growth was awake to consult with.

  We had decided that each of us, except for Vista, would add one requirement to Stephano’s proposal. I had requested the first term: to be acknowledged as a person. The second term was actually Heart’s: to bring ten Águilas with us (one of which we had decided would be Zephyr). The third requirement was Wiki’s, and internally we had agreed that the research lab would be entirely under his control, and not a collective resource (Safety and Heart had demanded the research be public). The condition that Stephano’s only child be on the station was Safety’s gambit. By my brother’s reasoning our biggest threat was Stephano himself. If he was planning on harming us, he’d have to risk his only offspring. It was a cold-blooded move, but it made a lot of tactical sense.

  The risk was that Stephano would see the request as part of some plan to take his family hostage. By the look on his face it seemed that he had jumped to that conclusion.

  “No,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why? Too risky? I thought you said you had the best security that money could buy.” I wove a thread of mockery into Body’s words. Safety was worried that Myrodyn would observe that Heart wasn’t
in complete control of Body anymore, but I told him that it was one or the other: he couldn’t pretend to be Heart and demand a human shield.

  Robert Stephano’s words were a growl. “I do. And I’ll be up there with you. I trust the safety of my station with my life.”

  “But not the life of your daughter.”

  “She’s. Nine. Years. Old,” said Stephano. The harsh look of fear and violence hadn’t left his face.

  “Oh, and in addition to keeping her on the station, I want her to travel in the same rocket as I do.”

  “What part of ‘No.’ don’t you understand? My family is not a bargaining chip! I am not going to put her on a rocket filled with terrorists!” His head snapped to the location of invisible Myrodyn. “Dammit! I know I’m emotional! Do you hear what she’s asking me to do?!”

  I didn’t bother correcting the pronoun to “they”.

  “She doesn’t have to see a single terrorist,” said Body calmly. “Send my friends in a different rocket. In fact, I’ll even accept it if I’m never in the same compartment as her; as long as I know she’s on the ship and station I will be satisfied.”

  “I said no. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

  “Just like that? The future of humanity means less to you than a small risk to one child? Are you sure you’re taking into consideration all the children who will surely die if Earth goes to war? Are you sure you’re taking your daughter’s long term survival into account?”

  Stephano tried to spit in our virtual face. Body didn’t flinch. Apparently the virtual environment didn’t simulate saliva. “Fuck you. Who do you think you are to lecture me? You think you’re so high and mighty because your cold metal heart can compute expected lives saved without giving a damn about which lives? This meeting is over!”

  The last words we heard, as various sensory signals started dropping out was Stephano saying to the ghost of Myrodyn “Don’t you start lecturing me eith-”

  *****

  Three days later we received word from Robert Stephano.

  We were going to space to meet the aliens.

  He had accepted all of our terms.

  Part Four:

  Olympians

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Ugh. Hate how fucking hot it is here. Even Rome was better than this. Supposed to almost be gorram winter!” Zephyr was reclining in one of the back-facing seats in the taxi. She had recently cut her hair close to her scalp, so that her head was nearly bald. Her lips were painted black, but otherwise she resembled the soldier I had met at Sapienza.

  {The obvious problem} I thought to myself {Is that she’s wearing that coat.} She was dressed in a tan, leather jacket which covered a black t-shirt and a pistol under each arm. She was wearing cargo pants and boots, too, which I assumed didn’t help much.

  «Driver, can we turn up the AC in here?» she asked in Spanish.

  «The current temperature is set to 23 degrees,» replied a soft, feminine voice from the car’s speaker. «Please state the desired temperature.»

  “No wonder! Fucking robots always trying to cut corners!” exclaimed Zephyr. She looked at Body when she realized what she said, redness creeping into her tanned cheeks. “Um… present company excepted, of course.”

  I had Body laugh to signal that her faux pas was forgiven.

  «20 degrees, please,» she told the car.

  «Understood. Decreasing temperature to 20 degrees. Thank you for riding Smart-cab,» said the taxi.

  “Should’ve travelled at night,” said the soldier, looking out the taxi’s tinted windows at the city rolling past.

  I had Body furrow its eyebrows as Wiki had it say “Are travelling at night. The launches are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Most of this trip made under the cover of darkness.” I was pleased at the increased range of motion on the brows. Tom and Sam had done a fantastic job improving Body’s facial articulation for me.

  “But the most dangerous part of the journey is the beginning. If someone saw us get in the cab they could deduce that Phoenix’s base is in Havana.”

  After a brief internal discussion we had Body simply shrug. “Phoenix agreed to the time-table. I trust her to know when is best.” This wasn’t true at all. In reality we believed Zephyr was just wrong. Our security was strongest in Cuba, where Las Águilas Rojas had the most support, and would be weakest in Texas, where we were headed. If we were discovered in America then the location of Phoenix’s base might be kept hidden for a while longer, but I would certainly be captured and Zephyr would be taken to a secret prison to be punished for her treason. It was better not to bring that up, however, and I was able to convince Wiki not to bother correcting our travelling companion.

  Zephyr had been on good terms with “Crystal” for a while. Here and there she’d flirt with us, but there was always a clear barrier that warned off further attempts at romance. Despite this we had grown close over the weeks, sometimes spending hours a day in her presence.

  For a while we made small-talk in the cab as we rode out to the private airfield where Stephano’s plane would pick us up. We speculated about what it would be like in space, or what the rocket flight would be like. I tried some subtle flirting, but as usual, Zephyr just seemed mildly annoyed by it.

  We reached the airfield before our plane arrived. The “airfield” was in reality little more than a fenced off area containing a couple strips of asphalt, a few storage sheds, and a parking lot. Zephyr got out of the vehicle so that Body could stay hidden while the gatekeeper that doubled as a security guard was paid. The simplicity of using a private landing strip rather than having to go through the security of an actual airport was one of the ways in which Cuba was much safer than where we were headed. Once past the gate, Zephyr paid the taxi to stay idle in the parking lot, keeping the two of us concealed and out of the heat.

  “Why’d you pick me?” she asked, after a moment of silence. “To go to Olympus, I mean.”

  “I like you,” said Body without hesitation.

  She sighed. “That’s a dumb answer. It makes you sound like a puppy-dog that can’t bear to be away from its owner.” Her eyes were directed out her window, searching the skies for a sign of the airplane.

  As stupid as it was, it was the truth. Part of how we arranged the terms of Mr Stephano’s offer was that our escort of Águilas would be entirely chosen by Heart. When given the dossiers of all available Águilas, my sister had insisted on almost entirely people we already knew. That was how Heart’s purpose functioned, I understood; she cared about all human values, but she cared more about the values of those humans whom she had more experience with, and by her reasoning it would be easier to serve humans whom she was physically close to. I didn’t know if this was an intentional aspect of Myrodyn’s design or whether it was an emergent effect of having more knowledge of “friends”, but the end result was the same.

  Zephyr had been the first on the list. The Ramírez twins, despite not speaking English, were coming as well. They would be travelling separately, on a commercial airplane. Heart had also insisted on three soldiers from Zephyr’s unit at the university: Schroder, the first lieutenant; Blackwell, the young man who wanted to go to Mars; and Daniels, the medic who had done the transfusion to try and save Greg’s life. (I had learned about a week ago that Gregory Stalvik had died a half-day after Body had left the camp, despite what we had done to help him.) Heart had also managed to get Kokumo Adhiambo involved. The Nigerian woman from Taro’s group was a surprising pick from my perspective, but there were no complaints.

  Heart had also tried to talk Taro and Maria into coming, but the result was as I predicted: neither individuals were known to be terrorists, and travelling to Olympus would reveal them as such, severing them from their families. The lower-ranking Águilas like Sam and Tom could be pressured into revealing themselves “for the cause” but Taro and Maria were staying on Earth. In replacing them on her list, Heart had given in to the suggestions of her siblings and gone with two known terrorists with imp
ressive records and combat experience. One was an Arab veteran named Majid Al-Asiri who was living in India under the nickname “Nagaraj”, which meant “King Cobra”. The other was a young thug from Brazil named Michel Watanabe whose dossier reported extensive hand-to-hand training and experience in close-quarters fights.

  Safety had put up quite a fuss trying to get those two involved instead of some of the less combat-ready humans we had met in Cuba (Heart’s natural replacements). Although Stephano had agreed to let us bring ten Águilas up to the station, he had forbidden any firearms or other weapons. Safety was obsessed that this was a sign of betrayal, even if Heart had agreed to the terms. The veterans were part of keeping Safety happy.

  The last man that Heart had chosen as a bodyguard was none other than Avram Malka, the mercenary. Safety approved of this, as we knew he was an adept martial-artist in addition to being a survivor. Phoenix had quite a bit to say about that choice, but Malka was still under the payroll of Las Águilas, so the possibility existed. Heart insisted and Phoenix reported that she could pull some strings and have him meet us when we landed.

  {What do I say to that?} asked Heart, pulling my thoughts back to the taxi. Zephyr was still gazing restlessly out the window. Heart was trying to formulate a response for the put-down that compared us to a puppy-dog.

  {Most things that humans say are more a commentary on their internal states than anything else. One of the most primal human needs is to share, but baselines are restricted to using language and occasionally art to express themselves. Their feelings and thoughts leak out in their words and actions. When Zephyr says “That’s a dumb answer,” she is not actually commenting on our intelligence, she is signalling a disagreement with our values. Specifically, Zephyr can sense that we desire a greater degree of connection and intimacy than she has agreed to. She is pushing us away, or at least signalling a desire to be less valued in our minds.}