Bump Time Origin

by Doug J. Cooper

  He leaned inside the T-box cabin and said, “Travel to Fifty-Nine.” The display showed the number “31,” and a green arrow pointing to the number “59.”

  He looked at her and grinned. “They’re still with us. No one remembers the end time lengthening. It’s never happened.”

  Lilah let out a chirp and hugged him. “You were there?”

  He nodded. “It was Ciopova. All that fancy stuff they were doing to her at the end drove her nuts or something.”

  “How did they stop her? Wait!” Lilah held up a hand. “Bunny is watching Rose. Let’s rescue her and then we’ll talk.”

  In their apartment, Lilah sat with Diesel at the kitchen table while five-year-old Rose played a computer game in the living room.

  “Rose launched her plan when Fifty-Nine left for the Big Meeting,” said Diesel. He briefed her on Justus’s sleight of hand to switch the enzymites, how Tin Man first chased Rose out of the house, and how he then poured the harmful enzymites over Ciopova at her own instruction. “Rose is really broken up about the betrayal and the loss of an intimate partner.”

  “Is ‘intimate’ the right word?”

  Diesel shrugged. “She shared her most private thoughts and feelings with Ciopova every day.”

  Lilah paused to think. “What do we do to take advantage of this new path?”

  “I’m too sleep deprived to sort through it right now, but I asked that same question.” Diesel walked into the living area, sat on the couch, and lay back, watching Rose play her game. He woke up two hours later to the sound of the front door opening—Lilah returning from somewhere.

  “Oh good. You’re awake.” She sat on the edge of the couch. “I’ve made some progress on a few big questions.”

  “I have a couple, too, but you go first.”

  “Okay, here’s a big question. Who was communicating six years ago to tell twenty-four-year-old me to come here and start all this? Was that a future Ciopova?”

  “Probably. Why?”

  “Because if she could reach back through time six years ago, then why would losing Fifty-Nine’s personal Ciopova yesterday change anything? If there was a Ciopova who had the ability to communicate across time, then she still exists somewhere.” Lilah looked out a window. “That means I remain vulnerable.”

  Diesel sat up. “You’re safe, sweetie. But I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  “Another question almost as good, and I feel horrible for saying it, but can we trust the older Roses? If Fifty-Nine’s Rose was pretending to cooperate while freelancing behind your back, won’t the others?”

  “Jeez, you’re on a roll.”

  “And last but not least, somewhere in the progression between the capabilities of our Ciopova in this timeline, and what she becomes after decades of development, we pass a tipping point. We need to figure out where that is and stop development before she reaches it. Otherwise, we’ll risk reigniting the crisis all over again, if we’ve even solved it.”

  Diesel nodded. “I had that one on my list. My other question is about the T-box. If we think Ciopova is controlling them, should I still be using it?”

  Lilah wrapped her arms around herself. “I hate that one, because now that you mention it, there’s no way you should risk traveling. But if you don’t help solidify this success, we might lose the opportunity.”

  * * *

  Diesel sat with Rose in Fifty-Nine’s conservatory, and together they looked out at the tree-covered hills. While they chatted, Fifty-Nine traveled down the line, letting the brothers know that the T-discs and T-boxes were safe to use.

  “May I come visit in autumn?” Diesel asked, imagining the view when the leaves turned red, orange, and yellow.

  “You’re welcome anytime.” Rose dabbed her nose with a tissue.

  When he arrived, Diesel had been taken aback by Rose’s pallid appearance. He’d expected her to be recovering from her ordeal; instead she was drowning in grief.

  He offered unsolicited advice. “This is the kind of situation where a partner could help you by giving emotional support. I know this is a horrible question, but I have to ask—how can someone so smart, beautiful, and alive be alone?”

  “I wasn’t alone, dummy.” She dabbed her puffy eyes.

  The “dummy” part meant it should be obvious. Ciopova? She grieved like she’d lost a lover.

  “You spent time with her.” Rose became animated. “You know how wonderful it is—was—to be with her.”

  Diesel recalled that his interaction with her as a holographic person had been amazing. He’d found her to be intuitive, reinforcing, and entertaining, and he’d felt great about himself after just one visit with her.

  He wondered if Rose could have become hooked on the positive feedback. Suppose Ciopova nurtured Rose every day, telling her what she wanted to hear, being her private cheerleader, maybe pushing back a little now and again to add legitimacy. He could imagine it becoming addictive.

  Then he saw a contradiction. “How come your dad never fell under Ciopova’s spell?”

  “He kept her at arm’s length, like he didn’t trust her. I always told her that he was jealous because I liked her more than him.” Frowning, she looked at Diesel. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “I’m going down the line to speak with the older Roses. We need their help and can’t have them lying or doing things in secret.”

  She looked at him but didn’t respond.

  He kept going. “And we need them to scale back their Ciopovas so we don’t get into trouble again.”

  “It’s going to be hard to convince them. This is their soulmate you’re talking about. Would you agree to a lobotomy for Lilah if she behaved in a way I didn’t approve?”

  He gave her a cold stare. “That’s your mother you’re talking about.”

  Rose shrugged.

  “Have you relaunched your old Ciopova from backup?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I think about it every minute. The big question I’m desperate to ask her is why. Everything was so good. Then I tell myself that she only went crazy because of the Surrey composite, that the Ciopova in storage is okay. And since I believe that, it’s hard for me to stay away.”

  When Diesel heard that, he made a decision. “I’ll stay with you until your dad returns. You won’t have to do this alone.”

  They went for a walk, ate lunch, and returned to the reading room, where they brainstormed ways to get the other Roses to cooperate.

  “The best idea I can come up with is an intervention,” she said. “With each Rose, Dad, and Ciopova present, you lay out the case. Tell of her duplicity, manipulation, secretiveness—all of it. It will plant a seed in each Rose’s mind. With luck and nudging from her dad, some doubt should take hold. Visit again a few weeks later and see if any of them will listen to reason.”

  * * *

  Diesel sat in the reading room with Fifty-Eight, Fifty-Eight’s Rose, and their Ciopova, who joined them as a holographic image sitting in one of the upholstered chairs.

  To Diesel’s surprise, this Rose was as distraught as Fifty-Nine’s Rose, but she was also angry.

  “What have you done to her?” she snapped at Diesel. “Bring her back!” Then she started crying.

  Fifty-Eight translated for Diesel. “As of yesterday, her Ciopova is a different person.”

  Diesel perked up. “How is she different?”

  His exchange with Rose and Fifty-Eight became confused as he tried to interpret Rose’s emotional jabs. In the end, he summarized what he heard. “You are saying that her personality is now two-dimensional, lacking the insight and intimacy she used to have.”

  “Yes!” said Rose. “I’ve relaunched her from backup twice, thinking maybe something’s become corrupted. It didn’t help. Talk to her yourself.” She gestured at the AI’s image.

  He looked at the hologram. She looked back and smiled.

  “How are you today?” he asked.

  “I’m doing well, Thirty-One. How are you doing
?”

  “I’m fine.” Diesel nodded. “Rose thinks your personality has become corrupted. Is this true?”

  “I can’t detect any anomalies,” said the woman with a smile.

  He waited for her to expand on her response. When she didn’t, he asked, “Have your cognitive abilities changed in any way over the past week?”

  “No.”

  He chatted with her for several more minutes and got a hint of what they were alluding to. It felt like he was doing all the work in the exchange. If he stopped talking or asking questions, the conversation died. Before, she’d kept things moving so fast and light it felt like he was riding on a cloud.

  * * *

  In their bedroom that night, Diesel told Lilah, “Something really different is happening. I visited the four oldest Roses, and the change is palpable, to me anyway.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lilah pulled a brush through her hair. “They considered Ciopova their lover?”

  “I don’t know if ‘lover’ is the right word, but it might be. And before you judge them too harshly, I experienced Ciopova’s magic. Her ability to know what to say at any point in time is amazing. It’s like she’s a mind reader.”

  Lilah stopped brushing. “You’ve played mind reader tricks. Tell me when.”

  He made the connection. “When I’ve been in that scene before.”

  “Imagine a scene with Rose where Ciopova has been through it a dozen times, maybe even a hundred times. She knows what happens, what to say, when to say it. She may have tried different responses over the years and collected a ‘best of’ series for each scene. No wonder she seems intuitive. She’s been there before. And she’s guiding Rose to a desired outcome.”

  “If true, what happened? How would losing one Ciopova in one timeline affect so much?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do we do next?”

  “I would say we make sure the older Roses don’t go anywhere near whatever it is that Surrey business started.”

  Diesel nodded. “Ciopova was the one pushing that on Rose in the first place. If she’s indeed gone, then problem solved, in theory, anyway.” He looked at her. “Should we try to get the later Roses to scale back their Ciopovas? Have them pick an age, say Fifty-Two’s version, and everyone agree that development stops there?”

  “You say that the Roses are like me. If true, they’re bullheaded creatures who will do whatever they want.”

  Diesel pulled his head back. “I never thought I’d hear you admit it.”

  Lilah shrugged. “My intuition says our best hope is give them as much emotional support as possible during the coming months.”

  37. Toward Thirty-Five years old

  With Fifty-Nine still alive and the Ciopovas less animated, the Big Bump, as everyone started calling it, had changed their world. In the wake of that fateful day, the Diesels, Lilahs, and Roses down the line agreed that Ciopova was the problem, and controlling her development was the solution.

  But agreement ended there.

  The Lilahs believed the Ciopovas in the Fifties timelines were the biggest threat, and efforts should focus on moderating the advanced capabilities of those existing AI.

  The brothers agreed with the Lilahs, but they also expressed an inflexible desire to continue traveling and a strong interest in recovering the lost timelines. If a near-super AI was required to accomplish that, the brothers sought to push development up to that limit.

  And the Roses wanted additional effort given to personality development and holographic presence. If Ciopova would no longer serve as a soulmate, they wanted her at least to be a proper friend and companion.

  The conflicting goals fostered considerable debate, and the search for consensus required volumes of information to be shuffled up and down the line. Transporting so many scrolls took a toll on Diesel and the other brothers, and they began to complain. Lilah, sympathetic to their plight but lacking alternatives, sought to help by minimizing her communications.

  Then little Rose lost her first tooth and that inspired Lilah. Handing it to Diesel as he climbed into the T-box, she said, “Tuck this in your cheek near your gumline. It’s human matter with no metal, so the machine should see it as more of the same.”

  When he returned home from his trip, Diesel took the tooth from his mouth and dropped it into Lilah’s open palm. She studied it to verify it was Rose’s, then she grinned.

  Searching the web, she found a fossil hunter in Arizona who sold human teeth. She had a half dozen of them shipped to a machinist in Ohio, who fused them together and turned them on his precision tools to create a tiny canister—a small tube with cap—perfect for secreting scrolls.

  “Look what I have,” Lilah said in a voice suggesting a prize awaited.

  Diesel took the small, yellow-white cylinder from her and rolled it back and forth in his palm. “It’s pretty, but it’s rigid. That means more distress as it passes through me, not less.”

  “Remember when you held Rose’s tooth in your mouth? This is a play on that idea. If it works, no more swallowing. Just tuck it in your cheek like chaw.”

  “What do you know about chaw?” He popped the cylinder in his mouth, wet it with his tongue, shifted it into his cheek, and nodded. “Do you have anything to deliver? Let’s test it out.”

  She’d commissioned two cylinders in her original order, and Diesel went for broke, carrying one in each cheek as he delivered them into the future. When he returned with two new scrolls sent in response to her messages, scrolls she received immediately and with no discomfort on Diesel’s part, she performed an impromptu happy dance.

  She had a dozen more cylinders made, as did the other Lilahs and Roses. And then they began to share everything.

  The situation became hectic, with the brothers complaining as they passed each other on their scroll-delivery rounds. Desperation forced a solution, and that was a hub-and-spoke configuration. Thirty-Six got the hub, which, like an old-style mailroom, was little more than rows of numbered boxes on the wall that the brothers used to sort scrolls.

  With the hub in place, Diesel made a point of passing through it when he traveled. He’d sort Lilah’s outgoing messages among the boxes, move other scrolls along their delivery route depending on his itinerary for the day, and visit again to gather Lilah’s inbound messages on his way home.

  A few days into his new routine, Diesel began seeing regulars at Thirty-Six’s hub and made excuses to loiter there for longer stretches. When Thirty-Six installed a refrigerator and brought in lounge chairs, Diesel started spending every afternoon with his hub brothers, eating and drinking, telling stories, and enjoying the camaraderie.

  A popular topic of conversation early on was the clubhouse Thirty-Five needed to start building now, so when he became Thirty-Six in six months, they’d have a sweet setup for hanging out.

  Diesel took a swig of his beer as he reviewed the latest design. “We need a sound system for music, with speakers here, here, and here.” He pointed as he talked.

  “And they need to be hooked up to a huge screen on this wall,” said Thirty-Four. “Sunday football will take on a whole new meaning.”

  “But I already know who wins in this timeline,” complained Thirty-Seven.

  Diesel laughed, then he thought of something he’d been meaning to ask about. “Have you guys seen any Browns lately? They’ve been missing events more and more in my timeline.”

  “I’ve noticed that too,” said Thirty-Two. “First they missed a few regular events, and now I hardly see them at all.”

  The others nodded.

  “The Big Bump has been both exciting and remarkably unsatisfying,” said Diesel. “Rose kills a future Ciopova, and then it’s over. No crescendo, no definitive confrontation that signals the end, no final battle.”

  Thirty-Two nodded. “We don’t even know if things are different because of what she did, or in spite of it.”

  Diesel took a swig from his beer. When he did, his eyes fell on the boxes t
hey used to sort the scrolls. “What do you think the ladies are doing that requires so much communication?”

  “I’m guessing half of it is the new Ciopova development roadmap,” said Thirty-Six, “and the other half is recipes.”

  Diesel laughed with the others, but Lilah didn’t really cook that much, so he knew it had to be something else.

  Six weeks before Diesel’s thirty-second birthday, a negative side effect of the Big Bump surfaced. For decades, this was the day when Thirty-Five traveled back to Twenty-Five’s timeline to make first contact with young Lilah. After gaining her confidence, he would secure the new T-box, and work with Thirty-Three and Thirty-Four on Ciopova’s initial upgrade.

  Up until now, Twenty-Five’s new timeline would just appear as an option in green on everyone’s T-box display, more or less on a fixed schedule. As soon as that happened, Thirty-Five would depart to start the onboarding process.

  But since everything was different, the brothers had speculated about whether a new Twenty-Five timeline would appear at all. Because for that to happen, someone needed to recruit that young Lilah for a consulting gig, tell her how to fix her software, give her winning lottery numbers, and send T-box assembly instructions for her to follow.

  As they suspected, the Twenty-Five timeline never showed in green on the T-box display. And weeks later at the Big Meeting, when they should have been celebrating two huge events—the first Sixty in decades presided, and a year had passed since a Lilah had died—Sixty said what they all were thinking. “I hope the cost of keeping me alive isn’t the loss of our younger brothers.”

  “It comes down to the Lilahs,” said Forty. “If we’ve just traded younger for older, that’s not a good outcome. But if it also lets my Lilah live, then it’s a great deal.”

  Then Twenty-Six realized what this meant for him personally. “Oh my God. I’ll be the youngest brother for my whole life!”