All Our Tomorrows

by All Our Tomorrows (epub)

  “Not because of what he did for the anarchs, or at least not those—but that’s a tale for another day.”

  She knew all too well the tone his voice had dropped into, and it meant the topic was closed. For now. “Then how did you know about Kolgo?”

  “Now that I’m an official head of state, a great deal of information is flowing my way from a great many places. The events on Ficenti caused quite a stir. Will you tell me why you kept all this from me?”

  His voice had turned gentle yet firm; it didn’t sound like an interrogation. Felt like one, though. “A myriad of reasons. You’ve had so much going on, and at the time, you were embroiled in a pitched battle to wrest control away from Ferdinand’s rebels. You didn’t need to be bothered with an Inquisitor gone wrong. Not when I could handle it.

  “I also worried that you would have wanted to try to save him—and I understand why. I wanted to save him, very badly. He was my brother. But you have to believe me when I say he was beyond saving. Beyond redemption. So I solved the problem. It is what Inquisitors have always done. I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds…or betrayed your faith in me.”

  “It is what Inquisitors have always done. Within a few strictures and more humane protocols, it will continue to be what Prefects do. As your grandfather, I thank you for wanting to protect me. But as your Advocate, I must ask you not to keep such things from me again.”

  As rebukes went, it was far milder than she deserved. Nonetheless, there was an undercurrent of steel to his voice that suggested she would be wise to take his warning to heart. “I understand, and I promise not to hide troubles from you in the future. I simply didn’t want to add to your burdens.”

  A rare shadow flitted across his features. “Nyx, I ordered the execution of my own son. Whatever burdens fall upon my shoulders, I will manage them.”

  46

  * * *

  SAGAN

  Milky Way Galaxy

  Marlee wandered into Abigail Canivon’s lab at the Druyan Institute with a spring in her step. She and Morgan had totally bonded at Special Projects last week, both before and after the insanity that was the Chalmun Station evacuation. Even better, once Morgan had recovered from her bump on the head, in a fit of righteous indignation over the Rasu attack, she’d moved up the timing of the next test session then invited Marlee to join her for it.

  Work had been crazy for the last week, what with trying to help all the evacuees, many of whom didn’t want to be helped, but she was counting the days.

  “—I did what I had to do, Abigail. I knew there were risks involved, but life is about embracing risk. I don’t regret my actions.”

  Marlee’s step hitched. But she was already inside, so it was too late to go sneaky and eavesdrop from the shadows. Abigail and Valkyrie—unusually, present in her physical doll—both turned toward her in surprise.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Abigail banished the somewhat harsh countenance she’d been wearing from her features. “Nonsense. You have an appointment. Please, come on in.”

  Valkyrie smiled brightly. “Marlee, hi. It’s good to see you. We were just arguing about my pseudo-death experience on Ireltse.”

  “We were not arguing. I was merely vocalizing some concerns I have regarding your….”

  “Judgment, I believe is the word you’re searching for.”

  Abigail’s expression re-hardened a touch. “I wasn’t searching for anything. I was holding my tongue. We have an audience.”

  Marlee held both hands up. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll go over to the workstation and start uploading the files I brought. I did get the details of what happened at Ireltse from Alex, though. Valkyrie, I’d like to hear more from your perspective sometime.”

  “And I’ll be happy to tell you about it, once we’re outside of Abigail’s earshot. She doesn’t want to contemplate the possibility of me dying.”

  “Having done it myself, I can’t recommend the experience.”

  “But you didn’t stay dead, Abigail. Neither did I.”

  Marlee whistled idly to herself as she made a show of loading her files and entering her custom boot-up sequence while listening in. Valkyrie shut down Abigail’s continuing protestations with impressive firmness, and after a minute or so Valkyrie appeared at Marlee’s side. “I can’t stay today, but let’s have lunch soon. I’ll come by HQ.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Valkyrie departed, but another solid minute passed before Abigail arrived at the workstation. “I’m sorry you had to hear our discussion. My own creation can be too confounding by half.”

  “She’s wonderful. You did an incredible job.”

  “I know, though she has grown so far beyond the initial programming I gifted her with, I can’t rightly claim her any longer.” Abigail patted at her perfectly arranged, pale ginger hair. “Now, talk to me about what we’re reviewing today.”

  Marlee sorely wanted to delve further into issues of life, death and regenesis, of Artificials, their creators and their agency. But Abigail was obviously both upset and a mite perturbed, so she restrained herself.

  She split the data she’d loaded into four screens. “The left three screens summarize my proposed rewrites to my…well, my eVi will be the conduit hub, but what I’m doing here goes well beyond conventional eVi programming. The rightmost screen lists out the physical enhancements I’ll need to add to my cybernetics to support the new programming. There are cross-references from the code to the enhancements at critical junctures.”

  Abigail’s eyes scrutinized the displays, and Marlee waited silently…until she couldn’t any longer. “I studied how the Anadens design their cybernetics as a starting point. It’s mostly ugly and unwieldy, but I did steal a few interesting ideas. A lot more from Prevo code, of course.”

  Abigail’s gaze darted over to her. “How did you get this detailed of a look at Prevo code?”

  “Is that a serious question?”

  “Apparently not.” The woman returned her focus to the displays.

  “In particular, the neural graft gets expanded a great deal in order to localize more quantum programming internally. I also took a lot of inspiration from how the Asterions design their bodies. Please don’t ask me how I obtained this information, okay? The way they meld organic and synthetic materials into every aspect of their bodies—every organ, every bone, every ligament, every blood vessel—is simply astonishing.”

  Abigail arched an eyebrow without diverting her attention. “And kyoseil.”

  “Yes, and kyoseil. I’m not planning to go that far, at least not yet. Also, my bones are already mature. The base cybernetic weaves I have are all I’m going to get. But using nanomachines, I think I can increase the robustness of the biosynth components in my neural infrastructure.”

  Finally, Abigail shifted her weight to her back leg and brought a hand to her chin. “You did say you wanted to become a Prevo without the need of an Artificial companion.”

  “Do you think this action plan will accomplish it?”

  “I’m not entirely certain what it will accomplish.” The woman pointed to the neural graft code. “When coupled with the biosynth enhancements you’ve laid out, this section of the programming is likely to develop emergent properties—properties neither you nor I will be able to predict. Once you take this step, there might not be any coming back from it.”

  Marlee nodded confidently. “That’s the point, though, isn’t it? When explorers of old reached new shores, they’d burn their boats so there was no going back. I’m good with burning my boat. Besides, those emergent properties, whatever they turn out to be, will belong to me. Self-directed evolution.”

  “Which is what the Asterions practice.”

  “I’d argue that humans are practicing it, too. Even if we weren’t quite doing so before, regenesis surely means we are now. I mean, those new bodies people are reborn into include improvements via the newest generation of gene therapy techniques, cybernetics
hardware and muscular-skeletal refinements, at a minimum. Don’t you agree?”

  Abigail shrugged minutely. “I do. The trick now is to ensure we don’t transform those improvements into a tyrannical regime, the way the Anadens did.”

  “This is why the Asterions are a much better model to follow. Each one of them owns their personal evolution.”

  “So I hear.” Abigail gestured to her screens. “I’ve got several suggestions for areas where you can tighten up the programming to minimize the chance of errors. But I daresay that you are almost ready to go. Or rather, the programming is. Only you can say when you’re ready to take this leap.”

  47

  * * *

  MIRAI

  Nika’s Flat

  Perrin grabbed Nika’s hands in hers. “Breakfast was delicious! I have to run. We’re opening a new refugee center in Kiyora One this afternoon, and I need to make sure the carpeting and lighting got installed before we open the doors. Talk later?”

  “Absolutely. Good luck today.”

  Nika watched the door close behind Perrin, then went into the living room to straighten up. Her friend was doing so much better now. The impact a few tiny tweaks to her programming had made was incredible.

  Yes, the far edges of Perrin’s emotional expression had been brought in a touch, and the highs were not quite so high as they’d once been. But the lows also weren’t nearly so low, and this was making all the difference. Perrin was happy; she was confident, energetic and engaged once again.

  She was also doing Administration work on Kiyora, which hadn’t escaped Nika’s attention. A trial run for an Advisor position? Possibly—

  The front door opened unexpectedly, and Nika turned to see Maris Debray sweep into the flat, a flared burgundy coat skimming the floor behind her as she strode down the entry hall.

  “Maris? Is something wrong?”

  The woman held up a finger in Nika’s direction as she made a beeline for the kitchen. She yanked off her coat and tossed it on the counter, then grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured a brandy. She took a long sip of it as she carried it to one of the couches, where she collapsed upon the cushions and crossed her ankles on the table. “Spencer left me.”

  Nika blinked. Whatever dramatic declaration she had been expecting, it wasn’t this one. Yes, she’d caught them arguing recently, but every couple argued from time to time.

  She moved to join Maris on the couch. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “He said, ‘I can’t do this any longer.’ I said, ‘I don’t understand.’ He said, ‘I know you don’t.’ Then he squeezed my shoulder, kissed me on the cheek, and walked out.”

  “That’s not a lot to go on.”

  “Oh, there were other words in between. But it all boils down to….” Maris took a hungry sip of her drink, then dropped it on the table and her head into her hands. “I truly don’t understand.”

  “Um…Maris, have you ever been dumped before?”

  “What kind of question is that? I’m certain I must have been at some time or other. I don’t recall.”

  “You erased your memories of how your prior relationships ended?”

  “Not immediately. But once I was ready to move on? Yes. What would be the point of continuing to suffer senseless heartbreak? Life is for the living.”

  Well, this explained a lot—most of all how Maris succeeded in flitting from relationship to relationship without ever growing or changing as a result of the time spent with her lovers.

  Noting Nika’s silence, Maris scowled. “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t lecture me. Not today. The past is the past, but I need help right now. If I can understand why he left, I can show him why he was wrong to do so.”

  She had to admire the woman’s boundless optimism, if not so much her utter lack of pragmatism. “Okay, let’s see. The two of you have been fighting lately, haven’t you?”

  “About schedules and dinner plans and…daily priorities, I suppose. You’re going to say this is an incredibly stressful time for everyone, and especially for a still-new Justice Advisor, and perhaps I wasn’t sufficiently sympathetic to or supportive of his needs.”

  Nika shrugged. “I don’t need to say it. You already know.”

  “But I was supportive! I’m confident of it.” Maris peered up at Nika from behind splayed fingers and…were those tears? She didn’t remember ever seeing her old friend cry before. But unfortunately, she was also missing ninety-nine percent of her memories of their lengthy friendship.

  She placed a gentle hand on Maris’ shoulder. “You’re genuinely upset.”

  “Clearly I am! My chest hurts, and I can’t concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. My brain is careening around in these frantic circles, but it keeps ending up back at the same place over and over again. And I don’t have a clue how to fix any of it.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Maris’ brow furrowed. “How would I be able to tell?”

  Nika stared at her friend, dumbfounded. “It is not possible that you’ve never been in love.”

  “Of course I’ve been in love. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only…” Maris wiped at the hint of tears on her cheeks “…sometimes I almost envy you the loss of your memories.”

  Nika jerked away. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. You have no idea—”

  Maris reached out and placed a manicured hand on Nika’s knee. “Forgive me. I know how much you’ve suffered from their loss, and I don’t mean to lessen the significance of the wounds this has inflicted on your soul.

  “What I’m trying to express is…because you lost them, you can’t imagine the sheer weight that is a life lived for 700,000 years. In those endless millennia, I’ve experienced everything, felt everything, until I no longer retain any frame of reference for what any of it signifies.

  “Which of those feelings were love? Which were hate? Which were despair? Joy? Contentment? They blend together into this tapestry that looks marvelous hanging on the wall, but the threads comprising it have lost whatever significance they once held.

  “I’ve long made it a point to experience each moment of life fully, madly, deeply. It is, after all, the Asterion way. But when every moment is everything, what distinguishes one from another?”

  Maris dropped her head back on the couch cushion with a plaintive sigh. “Oh, Nika, I’m afraid I’ve lost my compass. Worse, I now find myself wondering if I ever had one at all.”

  Omoikane Initiative

  After considerably more tears and alcohol, Maris abruptly insisted she needed to work, so they went together to the Omoikane Initiative. Nika got her situated in the Culture Division suite and stocked with chocolate and sweets, then ran a quick alcohol cleansing routine and headed upstairs.

  As she stepped into the command center, she took a minute to appreciate how much the Initiative had adapted and evolved since the Rasu War began in earnest. Physically, the top floor had been expanded and transformed to create tactical ‘pods’ for each of the major areas of concern: military deployment, materials production, refugee evacuation and management, scientific research, weapons development, planetary defenses and so on. The pods all linked into larger topic-specific workspaces situated on the four floors below them. Meanwhile, the far quarter of the space was devoted to Advisor-wide meetings, direction and monitoring of emergency situations (battles, mostly) and instantaneous travel to strategic locations via d-gate.

  The people involved had adapted as well, organizing themselves into the most efficient and focused sub-groups, each according to the talents and resources on hand. They developed their own rules, requirements and goals, then set out to tackle their assigned challenges.

  Yet another example of why she was proud to be an Asterion, and Nika basked in the picture it painted.

  Dashiel materialized at her side. He’d left the flat early this morning to check on…she didn’t actually know. He’d mumbled something vague on his way out the door. “What’s got you smiling?”
>
  “Oh, just idle happy thoughts.”

  “Well, let me add to those.” He took her hand and started dragging her toward the pod nearest and dearest to his heart, the one devoted to materials production. It interfaced directly with Ridani Enterprises systems and locations, particularly its labs. “Come see what we’ve created.”

  “With pleasure.”

  At one of the workstations, a schematic floated next to several visuals of a hybrid craft of some kind. What kind, she didn’t dare guess. “What is it?”

  “It’s a—” Dashiel’s expression flickered, and he hurried over to a blank pane and typed in a series of commands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Eh, nothing, probably. One of our freighters shipping kyoseil from Chosek hasn’t arrived at the storage warehouse. It’s over four hours late.” He shrugged, even while frowning at the data that began populating the pane. “Space takes one for its own every so often.”

  “True.” She was about to probe the issue when, in the corner of her vision, she noticed Spencer walking onto the main floor. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to investigate further? I need to talk to Spencer about something.”

  “Sure.” He gave her a distracted nod before turning his full attention to the scrolling data.

  Nika tried to prepare herself as she strode across the room. She didn’t particularly want to have this conversation, but she felt obligated to at least see how he was doing. And who knew? Maybe she’d end up with positive news to cheer up Maris.

  Spencer saw her coming ten meters away and held up a hand in warning. “Don’t, please.”

  She closed the rest of the distance anyway. “I’m not going to berate you. I wanted to see how you’re holding up and ask if there is anything I can do.”

  He huffed a breath, acting a little sheepish. “You’re not intending to interrogate me on why I ended it? I mean, why would anyone conceivably end a relationship with a woman such as her?”