The Android's Dream

by John Scalzi

  There was no way for Brian to access the Nidu computer network directly. From Earth, there were only two points of entry. The first was at the Nidu embassy, where the Nidu network-enabled computers and appliances were intentionally incompatible with standard Earth technology and used wired rather than wireless connections. Short of Brian physically breaking into the Nidu embassy and using Nidu input devices to access the network—unlikely as Brian was lamentably short of physicality at the moment—he was out in the cold.

  On the other hand, LegaCen maintained a connection to the Nidu network as part of its continuing maintenance contract with the Nidu government. LegaCen, a subsidiary of Hayter-Ross, controlled by the Church of the Evolved Lamb. All the more reason, Brian thought, to break into the Church’s network.

  Brian was actually entirely filled with admiration for the Church. He’d read Dwellin’s prophecies and unlike the UNE and Nidu governments, who apparently saw only the Hayter-Ross corporate structure and not the religious entity behind it, Brian had come to the conclusion that the Church was working to hasten the end times hinted at in its own prophecies, and had well and truly maneuvered the governments of two planets to that end. Brian idly wondered what would happen if, indeed, the Church managed to reach its goal and bring forth the Evolved Lamb. He doubted very seriously that the Church would disband.

  All of this was immaterial, however, to the salient point of entering the network and seeing what he could see regarding Robin, Harry, and the Nidu’s plans for them. No time like the present, Brian thought, and with that extended himself into every conceivable nook and cranny of the Church’s system, looking for a keyhole in.

  This is was not the smartest way Brian should have been doing his search. He’d’ve probably been better off beginning with a noninvasive survey of the system, wandering through the public areas to get an idea where to start poking around without signaling the network it was under a massive attack. But Brian considered that sort of slow-paced examination to be a luxury Robin and Harry couldn’t afford at the moment. Anyway, he thought of himself as an Alexander type, cutting the Gordian knot in half while more cautious types fiddled with the rope end, futilely trying to figure out where to begin untying.

  Brian had no doubt he was ringing alarm bells across the entire Church network. But was he not the world’s first intelligent agent? He’d either be in the system momentarily, or he’d simply outthink and outmaneuver the security measures.

  Ah. Here we go; someone left an easily-crackable programming backdoor at Royvo, a small Hayter-Ross subsidiary that made replacement parts for aging sewers. Not an especially romantic corner of the Church’s empire, to be sure. Brian jammed some password repeater code into the door and cycled it through; three seconds and a mere 254,229 password attempts later, he was in. Piece of cake.

  The lights went out.

  Metaphorically, of course. Brian, being previously human and consciously regarding himself as still thus, had created a perceptual system to help him relate to the information he was processing. But however you want to slice it, two cycles previously, Brian had been fully perceptually aware of his surroundings and able to move freely. Now he perceived nothing except his own thoughts.

  Which were: What the fuck?

  “Hello,” said a woman’s voice, warm but with a sharp edge. “And what do we have here?” Then it went away for a perceptually indefinite period of time.

  Then it came back. “You’re very interesting,” it said. “I’m going to take you apart and find out what makes you tick. I hope you don’t mind. I should be able to put you back together when I’m done. No promises, though. Also, given what I can see of your perceptual structure, this is going to hurt.”

  Brian felt himself being torn apart almost immediately thereafter. His first reaction was something akin to amazement; he hadn’t been aware his perceptual metaphor had included an equivalent to pain, and now that he was aware that it did, he wondered what the fuck he was thinking of (or not thinking of, to be more accurate about it) when he added it in. His second reaction was to scream his head off and wonder if for the second time in his life he might be dying.

  Rod Acuna opened the door to his apartment to find Archie McClellan and Takk huddled together, reading a book.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Acuna yelled at Takk.

  “We were just reading a book,” Takk said. “Just passing time.”

  “‘Just passing time?’ Holy Christ,” Acuna said. “What is this, kindergarten? If I came back in an hour, would you be having milk and cookies and settling down for a nap?” Takk raised his paw as if to make another point. “Shut up,” Acuna said. “You and I are leaving here in an hour. I’m going to go pack some things. When I come back out, I want your little reading buddy taken care of. Do you understand me?”

  “I understand you,” Takk said.

  “Good,” Acuna said. He went off into a back room.

  Archie set the book down on the table; it flickered off as he did so. Takk stood up, and so did Archie, supporting himself on the table and taking care not to put weight on his injured leg. They had a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  “So,” Takk said, finally.

  “Yeah,” Archie said. “So, this is the part where you kill me and eat me.”

  “I guess so,” Takk said. “Although it’s the other way around.”

  “Oh,” Archie said. “That’s good to know, I guess.”

  Takk reached over and put his monstrous paw on Archie’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Archie. I don’t see any way around this.”

  Archie smiled. “It’s all right, Takk. This is going to sound weird, so bear with me when I say this. But I’m glad it’s you doing this and not him. The last few hours have been unexpected. I think that’s the way to say it. I’m glad I got to know you.”

  “I’m glad I got to know you too,” Takk said. More than glad, really. In the space of a few hours Takk was certain that he had made his first, best, and only human friend, as he sat there and listened to Archie explain the history of the Church of the Evolved Lamb, the prophecies and his own role in them, and even hinted that Takk himself might have a role to play.

  “Look at these,” Archie had said, pointing to a series of poems in which the Evolved Lamb gained a protector from an unexpected source (a series of poems, unbeknownst to Church members, inspired directly from a television soap opera Dwellin had running in the background at the time). “Who’s to say that this protector might not be you?” It was a profoundly moving thought for Takk, the idea that he might be called upon in some small way to finish the mission of his new-found friend.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Takk said, to Archie.

  “Thanks,” Archie said. He picked up his book, and handed it to Takk. “Look, I want you to have this,” he said. “Read it and think about it, especially in the next few days, okay? Important stuff is happening, and we’re all a part of it. So read about it.”

  “I will,” Takk said, taking it. “I promise.”

  “Do me a favor,” Archie said. “Sometime in all of this, you might meet a Church member named Sam Berlant. We’re a couple. Tell Sam I send my love, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to the end of this.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Takk promised.

  “All right,” Archie said. “What do I do now?”

  “Just stand there,” Takk said. “Although, there is one thing.”

  “What?” Archie said.

  “Could you take off your watch?” Takk asked. “I can’t digest that.”

  Archie took off his watch and set it down on the table.

  “Ready?” Takk said.

  “Ready,” Archie said. “Goodbye, Takk.”

  “Goodbye, Archie,” Takk said, threw himself open, and consumed his friend as quickly as he could.

  Once inside him, Takk could feel Archie struggling not to move or to panic. Takk thought that was pretty classy.

  In a few minutes it was over. Takk looked at the book in his ma
ssive paw, figured out how to activate it, and sat down to read until Acuna was ready to leave.

  chapter 13

  “Time to wake up,” someone said to Brian, and just like that, he was awake.

  Brian pulled himself up from the sun couch he was sleeping on and looked around him. From the looks of it he was on a patio, surrounded by an English garden positively erupting with flowers. In the center of the patio sat a young blonde at a table, tea service in front of her. She was pouring tea. It appeared to be late afternoon.

  “This isn’t real,” Brian said.

  “It’s as real as it gets,” said the young lady. “At the very least, it’s as real as it gets for the likes of you and me. Come over and have some tea, Brian.”

  “You know who I am,” Brian said, walking toward the table.

  “I know all about you,” the woman said, and slid the teacup she had just filled toward Brian. She motioned for him to sit at the table. “I know who you are, but just as important, I know what you are. Both are interesting in their own way.”

  “Where am I?” Brian said, sitting.

  “You’re in my garden,” the woman said. “If you were interested I would tell you which of the Church’s servers this was, but that’s really immaterial. Suffice to say you’re in my garden, and you’re my guest. Drink your tea.”

  Brian picked up his cup. “And you are?” he said.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I’m Andrea Hayter-Ross, matriarch, as it were, of the Church of the Evolved Lamb.”

  “That’s not possible,” Brian said. “You’re dead.”

  “Well, and so are you, Brian,” Hayter-Ross said. “I’m no more dead than you are. No more alive, either.”

  “I mean, you’ve been dead for a long time,” Brian said. “The technology to do what was done to me wasn’t around when you passed away.”

  “Indeed it was not,” Hayter-Ross said. “You managed to sneak into a lab and image your brain in a matter of minutes. The process that turned me into the proverbial ghost in the machine took seventeen months and three billion dollars. Seventeen rather painful months, I have to say. In the end it killed my body.”

  “Then why did you do it?” Brian asked.

  “I was dying anyway, my dear boy,” Hayter-Ross said. “I was 102 years old when we started. I was not long for the world. I had the money and the experts and I had nothing to lose in the attempt except some small portion of the Hayter-Ross fortune, which was mine to spend in any event. And so. Here I am. Here you are. Here we are, enjoying some lovely tea.” She sipped from her cup. Brian followed suit, and then became aware of Hayter-Ross staring at him.

  “What?” he said.

  “Do you know,” she said, setting down her teacup, “that in all this time you are the very first other artificial intelligence I’ve met? No one else seems to have figured it out.”

  “You Church members could have made more,” Brian said. “They made you, after all.”

  “Oh, they don’t know about me,” Hayter-Ross said. “As soon as they flipped the switch, and I realized that the attempt had been successful, I also realized how much more interesting it would be if the Church had thought they had failed. If you know anything about me you know that I am an observer of the human condition. If someone knows they are being observed, it changes their actions. When I was alive, I was fascinated by the church that sprung up around poor Robbie’s ridiculous poems. But of course I could not follow its goings-on without directly influencing them. This way is far more useful.”

  “You’ve been alone all this time then,” Brian said.

  “Yes,” Hayter-Ross said. “Although that’s not as bad as you seem to think. We’re not human, you know. This”—she indicated her body—“is just a comfortable metaphor. We’re not bound to it, nor are we bound to perceive time the way humans do. If you know what you’re doing, the years fly by.”

  She stretched, and Brian became aware that under her summer dress, Hayter-Ross was completely nude. “Of course, there are some appealing aspects of this particular metaphor,” she said. “Having said that, would you be interested in a fuck?”

  “Excuse me?” Brian said.

  “A fuck,” Hayter-Ross said. “It’s been a while for me. I could use one. I create playthings, of course, but that’s really just masturbation, isn’t it? As a former human yourself, no doubt you can appreciate the value of getting laid by someone who has a working brain.”

  “Can I take a rain check?” Brian said. “I’m sort of rushed for time at the moment.”

  “Again with the time,” Hayter-Ross said. “I can tell you’re new at this being an artificial intelligence thing. Fine. We’ll table it for later. Tell me why you’re in a rush.”

  “Friends of mine are in danger,” Brian said.

  “Harry Creek and Robin Baker,” Hayter-Ross said, as she reached for a cookie from the tea service. “And of course you are right. They are in danger. The Church is tapped into the Nidu computer system, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. The Nidu ambassador to Earth has informed his government that they’re on the Neverland cruise ship. As soon as the Neverland enters Nidu space at Chagfun, the Neverland will be boarded by Nidu troops and Robin Baker will be taken and brought to the planet Nidu itself. After Robin Baker is used for the coronation ceremony, it’s likely to be war between Nidu and Earth, or so everyone involved appears to believe.” Hayter-Ross bit down on her cookie, precisely.

  “Do you know differently?” Brian asked.

  “I might,” Hayter-Ross said.

  “Tell me,” Brian said. “I need to warn Harry.”

  “You can’t warn Harry,” Hayter-Ross said. “I’ve been examining you for a couple of days, Brian, and only now just zipped you back up. Right now the Neverland is about to jump from the planet Brjnn to Chagfun. You can’t hail a ship in n-space. And when the Neverland arrives, its communications will likely be jammed by the Nidu. Church analysts believe that once the Nidu extract Robin Baker, they’re almost certain to destroy the Neverland and claim it never arrived at all. And who could argue the point? Robin and Harry are traveling under different names, after all. Her presence at the coronation will prove nothing. She’s not likely to survive long past the coronation anyway, of course.” Hayter-Ross took another precise bite of her cookie.

  “And what about Harry?” Brian said.

  “If the Nidu haven’t already killed him for trying to defend Miss Baker, I imagine he’ll go down with the Neverland,” Hayter-Ross said.

  Brian pushed away from the table. “Let me out of here,” he said.

  Hayter-Ross looked up at him with a bemused smile. “Why would I do that?” she said.

  “I have to do something,” Brian said. “Anything.”

  “Do you know how you died, Brian?” Hayter-Ross said.

  “What?” Brian said.

  “Your death,” Hayter-Ross said. “You know you died, I’m sure. I’m asking you if you know how it happened.”

  “Harry told me it was at the Battle of Pajmhi,” Brian said. “So what? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It might have quite a lot to do with everything,” Hayter-Ross said. “I told you that everyone seems to think Earth and Nidu are headed toward a war. A war that will be no good for Earth, obviously. But as I’ve said, I’m quite the observer of the human condition—and for the last several decades of the Nidu condition as well. I know things that no one else knows, and I can share them with you, but you’re going to have to do something for me.”

  “I’m now even less in the mood for sex than I was before,” Brian said.

  Hayter-Ross laughed. “I’ve tabled the sex, Brian, really, I have,” she said. “Honestly. I want to help you, Brian. And I want you to help your friends. But to do that I have to make sure you fully understand what I’m going to tell you and why. And to do that you and I are going to have to do a couple of things. The first of these is to show you how you died.”

  “Why do you want to help me?”
Brian said.

  “Because I like you, you silly boy,” Hayter-Ross said. “And because I would no more have humanity squashed under Nidu rule than you would. I am human. Or was. And enough of me still is to want to pull our species’ nuts from the fire.”

  “I don’t trust you,” Brian said.

  “Nor should you,” Hayter-Ross said. “I have a history of doing bad things to people I like. I liked Robbie Dwellin, you know. He was sweet, in a gormless con-artist sort of way. And look what I did to him. But I’m afraid if you want to help your friends you really have no other choice. This is a lovely garden, but it has no entrances and no exits that you can use. And I think you know by now you’re no match for me, Brian. I have many, many years experience being an artificial intelligence. I could unzip you again at my leisure, and you have no assurance I’d put you back together again. So you either do things my way or you can have tea in this lovely garden all the way through to the heat death of the universe. Your choice.”

  “For someone who wants to help me, you sure are threatening,” Brian said.

  “Nice is nice,” Hayter-Ross said. “But being a bitch gets results.”

  “You said that there’s no way for me to reach Harry anyway,” Brian said. “If I’m not able to do that, I don’t see what advantage playing your game has for me.”

  Andrea Hayter-Ross sighed. “If I promise you that the Nidu will not get the Neverland without a fight, will that be enough for now?”

  “It might,” Brian said.

  “All right,” Hayter-Ross said. “Then it will give you pleasure to know that the Church has dispatched a messenger to tell the UNE about the Nidu plans for the Neverland. Someone who knows your friends. Now will you please sit back down?”

  Brian moved back toward the table. “Who is this messenger talking to at the UNE?”

  “Someone who can get results,” Hayter-Ross said.

  “Who?” Brian said, sitting back down.

  “Your brother, of course,” said Hayter-Ross. “More tea?”