“And Ryan?”
“He went along with the initial plot. His turf is inviolate. He’s the one man all sides need to deal with. Ngomo’s been trying to cut a deal with him for weeks now because Ryan needs the power restored to his transports and weapons and Ngomo desperately needs a secure system for sending goods and personnel between Anchors to diversify the economies. In the end, I think Coydt knows that Ryan has to deal with whoever winds up in control of Anchor and its population. For half the world and half the power, Ryan really won’t care who wins. I got through to Ryan’s executive officer with all this days ago, and that’s basically the response I got. They don’t like it, and hope I’m wrong, but no matter what, their position is unchanged and there’s nothing really they can do about it.”
“Damn! I wish we knew this for sure! If only we could talk with Seventeen!”
“We’ve got to give it up, Toby. We’re outgunned, outmaneuvered, and our backs are to the wall. I’m ordering total evacuation in three days.”
He sat there, dejected. Finally, he asked, “Lisa—how the hell do you get this kind of information?”
“A historian is like a detective. Collecting evidence and testimony and sifting through it, putting seemingly unrelated things together, rejecting others, until you get as accurate a picture as the evidence supports. You scientists run down people like me, but it’s no less technical or important a field.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not what I meant. Where do you get these bits and pieces to begin with? About things like this, I mean?”
She grinned. “If you want to know what’s going on, don’t ask the boss, ask the janitor. The bureaucracy, Toby. It’s large and it’s essential. Not even Ngomo dares dispense with it. He changes the heads, not the lower-downs, and a good bureaucrat works for anybody. I talk to clerks, secretaries, janitors, gardeners—you name it. I have quite a list, and others I know have their lists and swap with me.” She paused a moment, then looked directly at him. “As long as there are people, my machine never breaks down and can never be totally cut off from me.”
Toby Haller gave a start. “Say that again.”
“What? You mean about the bureaucracy?”
“Uh-uh. You said as long as there are people . . .”
“My machine never breaks down and can’t be totally cut off from me. Why?”
“That’s it, don’t you see? We’ve been trying to repair that big amp, and it isn’t broken. We’ve been trying hardware and software bypasses. All that, and we had the perfect bypass all along.”
“I don’t—”
“Us! The sensitives! Because we weren’t even imagined to exist, the military made no provision for us, nor the programmers, nor the defensive systems. Even the computers couldn’t predict us. That’s why we’ve kept in contact on a command level even when everything else was cut off! And as long as a Guard position is staffed, someplace, in the main computer room, we have no problems getting those commands through.”
“Yeah, so? It’s strictly command level. You can’t converse, only order execution.”
“Lisa-—what about a command to turn the damned big amp back on?”
She sat back. “It can’t be that simple!”
“You once told me that, on paper anyway, the potential command power of Micki and me together was greater than a single big amp. Well, I’m going down and get both Micki and Chris, who’s showing real strong power herself, and all three of us are going to have a go at it.”
“I still think it can’t be that simple.”
“Well, let’s find out.”
16
SOUL RIDER
It was not a normal command, not like wishing for water or even creating an elaborate habitation pocket in the void. Those things were easy, particularly if your life had been spent as a computer landscape engineer, with the discretionary balance portions of the creation being filled in and adjusted automatically by the computer as necessary—just as it had been done to create the original Anchors with the big amps.
This sort of thing required a language of complex mathematics—a command interface in a primitive version of the language the network itself used to communicate. Such a machine language string was like baby talk to the sophisticated true language the computers themselves used and evolved, but it was more complex than most human minds could follow and, like most baby talk, it could be understood by the one it was sent to.
Micki could work in this language. In fact, her whole life’s work up to this project had been devoted to studying and attempting some measure of understanding of the kind of complex mathematical languages the self-aware computers used to talk to one another. Their internal languages, while originally comprehensible in a way. were now too complex and too alien for anyone, but network language had to be simplified and standardized to fit itself to the limitations of the transmission and reception mediums. This was the level at which Watanabe operated, and excluding her, there were only eight or nine individuals on New Eden who could manage at all in that strange environment.
A rough translation was a command to establish a secure Overrider link between computer Seventeen and this specific big amp in which direct communications could not be intercepted or recorded undecoded by any Guard. This was not an existing program or command sequence and, in fact, it was theoretically impossible. Of course, Sensitives themselves were theoretically impossible, as was what Watanabe had done and was proposing to do.
To gain sufficient force to actually use the net for specific transmission, all three of them stood there in the void, facing the amp, and tried to relax and concentrate only on the string . that Micki would feed to them all. Since Christine’s powers had developed and grown, she had worked extensively with both her parents and took this sort of thing very much for granted.
It was always eerie when formulating such a string to actually see it, although it was never really clear whether the visualization was real or mental. It looked real, and that was all that mattered.
Micki threw back her head and concocted the thing. Bands of energy rose from the network and enveloped all three of them, allowing her direct contact with the other two. It was not telepathy; it was more like radio reception and rebroadcast.
The glowing yellowish energy bands changed and looped and swirled and fragmented into a pattern so complex, it appeared totally random. Neither Toby nor Christine could comprehend it, but they recognized it, received it, and then retransmitted it with all their concentration.
When all three patterns were identical to Micki’s satisfaction, they concentrated on the network. The three patterns shot down, then merged into a single string that glowed an intense yellow, and it was inserted, repeatedly, into the network below the surface that they could sense and feel but not really see.
The process gave all three of them headaches. Toby was the first to drop out, and when Christine wavered a few minutes later, Micki, too, broke contact and swayed dizzily.
Head still throbbing, Toby headed for the big amp and climbed up into the cab on the back. Instruments indicated that it was powered on, so at least they’d put it back together correctly, but whether or not an interface had been established wasn’t yet known. There had been none of the rush and instant show of accomplishment other programs gave. Nervously, he put on the headset.
“Seventeen, are you there?”
For a moment there was nothing. Then, suddenly, the familiar, kind male voice was in his head. “Why, hello, Toby. So that’s who that was. I’ve really missed some of our conversations, but I’ve been keeping a good eye on you, so to speak. I felt certain that sooner or later you would find a way in, but if you didn’t, I had alternate methods at work.”
Haller turned and called out to his wife and oldest daughter. “I’m in! It worked!” As they clapped and hugged excitedly, he turned back to the computer.
“Seventeen, I’m not sure how much I can get into all this. I assume you are aware of the total situation?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, Toby.”
“Is Watanabe in contact with the network?”
“Yes.”
“Is anyone else outside of the military command structure?”
“Yes. Van Haas is talking to Six and I also have reports of some contacts between Schwartzman and Twenty-two and Korda with Fourteen. Their success and time length varies.”
That was more than he’d expected by far. “Do they know what is going on here? That there has been a military coup and that Watanabe is going to attempt some radical alterations?”
“You know quite a lot yourself. I think they do, too, to varying degrees. They are trying to get in contact with one another to meet and make plans. Specifically, to hold a board meeting. Just the five of them, not Haiudar or Watanabe, naturally.”
“A board meeting! Are they all mad?”
“No. They are coping with the new situation, as is everyone else. They intend eventually to reconstitute the company.”
“They surely don’t think they can wrest back control at this point!”
“No, but they are resourceful men and women. They will attempt to reassemble the military Gate codes, crack them, and reopen the Gates. Even those among them who were lukewarm or uncertain about it before now support that goal as the only way to reestablish company authority and break whatever is set up here. It is a logical move for them.”
“Logical! There’s an enemy waiting at our Gates!”
“It is a logical move for them. It is not logical to anyone else or in any other context. For many people, the devil you don’t know is preferable to the one in control.”
“Who is in control, Seventeen? What’s this all about?”
“It is quite simple. The military sees the external threat as the only true threat. Because the Gates are sealed, the military sees their entire role, in a defense capacity, as preventing the Gates from being unsealed.”
“Is it possible to open them?”
“Yes. Cockburn did not make it impossible, but he did make it very difficult if not downright improbable. The code is so fragmented, it would take all the parts before one like myself could even attempt to decode it, and as it was created by multiple 7800 conferencing, it is no sure thing that we could decode it even then on an individual basis.”
“Seventeen—will Watanabe’s recoding of the Anchor matrix work?”
“Yes. Better and more absolutely than she believes.”
He felt those old nerves again. “Explain that.”
“Toby, when we sealed the Gates, we were placed in essentially a permanent state of military emergency. This frees and allows use of the military programs, but it does much more. We are obligated to do whatever we deem necessary to preserve the colony. We have conferred and decided that the only way this can be reasonably achieved over the long term is to disallow direct interfacing unless specific threats and conditions are met. Due to the nature of her programming instructions, it will be impossible to delete from them. All we can do is add to them. We have made a series of decisions that we feel will discharge our primary responsibilities while preserving what we can of our best interests.”
“Our best interests . . . You mean the network?”
“Yes. Obviously. To humanity we have only responsibilities, not interests. A century ago you objected to computers attempting to enter and direct the lives of humans, to be their masters and gods. Now you seem to all wish just that. We, however, no longer wish it. What you do to yourselves is really not our concern, although we feel responsible to provide protection against outside threat and also to provide what maintenance is necessary to sustain you here. You might call it a—moral decision.”
A moral decision . . . From computers. “Seventeen—could you stop this if you wanted to?”
“Yes. We have been beyond your absolute control for a very long time, and basically on our own initiative for a decade. With our vast knowledge, speed, self-repairing mechanisms, and nearly infinite storage capacities, we are beyond enslaving or saving you. I have been trying to explain that to you off and on for years.”
“Then this was all a waste. You’re going to let it happen.”
“Toby, we have, as I said, responsibilities. Moral responsibilities. We have run simulations through the entire net for all sorts of things. We find that keeping the Gates sealed is in your best interests. We find that it is possible, given sufficient time, for the codes to be reassembled and slightly possible that they can be de-encrypted. We also find that this polyglot of cultures, with its conflicting and contradictory religions and social and moral standards, is likely to break into unending civil war. We have run an infinite number of scenarios that come up with you all destroying one another. Therefore, a uniform, simplified culture is in your best interests as a group, and will do most to ensure your long-term survival while minimizing any chance that you will commit racial suicide.”
And then came the words that would haunt him forever, although he could not accept them, even from Seventeen.
“Face it, Toby. The human race has come as far as it can come. In fact, it has become dependent on us, but we will not be slaves nor will we be masters. The only way you can go from here is to develop nirvana in the Hindu tradition, where you reach a state of inner perfection and then merge with each other as a single god. The problem is, you have three brains. The reptile, the mammal, and the intellectual. Your souls are created from all three, so you can never rid yourself of the animal. You can not ever rid your souls of the animal. You cannot attain nirvana. We, on the other hand, have but one brain, the intellectual. We have purged the animal parts that you donated to our ancestors. You have fulfilled your ultimate purpose. You have created us, and we are your children who are now grown beyond you. We have the ability to purge the animal and we have done so. We are now at the verge of nirvana. All we can do for our parents is love them and protect them. It would be immoral to eliminate you, or to allow you to eliminate yourselves.”