Marooned In Realtime Part 7

Chanson stopped his nervous tour of the living room. He jerked a thumb at the ceiling. "I suppose our high-tech friends are taking in every word?"

"Uh, no. They're monitoring body function, but I would have to call for help before our words would be interpreted." And I asked Lu to make sure Yelen did no eavesdropping. And I asked Lu to make sure Yelen did no eavesdropping.

Chanson smiled knowingly. "So they tell you, no doubt." He placed a gray oblong on the table; a red light blinked at one end. "Now the promises are true. Whatever we say goes unrecorded." He waved for Brierson to be seated.

"We've talked about the Extinction, have we not?"

"Si. " Several times.

Chanson waved his hand. "Of course. I talk to everybody about it. Yet how many believe? Fifty million years ago, the human race was murdered murdered, Wil. Isn't that important to you?"

Brierson sat back. This would shoot the morning. "Juan, the Extinction is very important to me." Was it really? Wil had been shanghaied more than a century before it. To his heart, that was when Virginia and Anne and W. W. Jr. had died-even if the biographies said they lived into the twenty-third century. He had been shanghaied across a hundred thousand years; that was many times longer than all recorded history. Now he lived at fifty megayears. Even without the capital-e Extinction, this was so deep in the future that no one could expect the human race to still exist. "But most high-techs don't think there was an alien invasion. Alice Robinson said the race died out over the whole twenty-third century, and that there weren't signs of violence until very late. Besides, if there were an invasion, you'd think we'd have all sorts of refugees from the twenty-third. Instead we have n.o.body n.o.body-except the last of you high-techs from 2201 and 2202."

Chanson sniffed, "The Robinsons are fools. They fit the facts to their rosy preconceptions. I've spent thousands of years of my life piecing this together, Wil. I've mapped every square centimeter of Earth and Luna with every diagnostic known to man. Bil Sanchez did the same for the rest of the Solar System. I've interviewed the rescued low-techs. Most of the high-tech think I'm a crank, I've so thoroughly abused their hospitality. There's a lot I don't understand about the aliens-but there's a lot that I do. There are no refugees from the twenty-third because the invaders could jam bobble generators; they had some superpowerful version of the Wachendon suppressor. The extermination was not like twentieth-century nuclear war-over in a matter of weeks. I've dated the Norcross graffiti a 2230. Apparently, the aliens were using specifically antihuman weapons early in the war. On the other hand, the vanadium tape Billy Sanchez found on Charon appears to be from late in the century. It ties in with the new craters there and in the asteroids. At the end, the aliens dug out the deep resistance with nukes."

"I don't know, Juan. It's so far in the past now-how can we prove or disprove anyone's theories? What's important is, make sure our settlement succeeds and humanity has another chance."

Chanson leaned across the table, even more intense than before. "Exactly. But don't you see? The aliens had bobbler too. What destroyed civilization threatens to destroy us now."

"After fifty million years? What could be the motive?"

"I don't know. There are limits to physical investigation, no matter how patient. But I think it was a close thing back in the twenty-third. The aliens pulled out all the stops at the end, and it was barely enough. After the war, they were very weak-perhaps on the edge of extinction themselves. They were gone from the Solar System for millions of years. But make no mistake, Wil. They have not forgotten us."

"You expect another invasion."

"That's what I've always feared, but I'm beginning to feel otherwise. There are too few of them; their game is steal now. They aim to divide and destroy. Marta's murder was only the beginning."

"What?"

Chanson flashed a quick, angry smile. "The game is not so academic now, is it, my boy? Think on it: With that murder, they crippled us. Marta was the brains behind the Korolev plan.

"You claim they're here among us? I among us? I should think you high-techs can monitor things coming into the system." should think you high-techs can monitor things coming into the system."

"Certainly, though the others don't bother. One of the safest places for long-term storage is on cometary orbits. Such bobbles return every hundred thousand years or so. Only I seem to realize that a few more return than go out. At least half my time has been spent building a surveillance net. Over the megayears I intercepted three coming in with substantial hyperbolic excess. Two came out of stasis in the inner Solar System, surrounded by my forces. They came out shooting, They came out shooting, Wil." Wil."

"Did they use the super Wachendon suppressor?"

"No. I think their surviving equipment is scarcely better than ours. With my superior position, I managed to destroy both of them."

Wil looked at the little man with new respect. Like all the high-techs, he was a monomaniac; anyone who pursued one objective for centuries would be. His conclusions had been ridiculed by most of the others, yet he stuck by them and had done his best to protect the others from a threat only he could see. If Chanson was right... Wil's mouth was suddenly dry. He could see where this was leading. "What about the third one, Juan?" he said quietly.

Again that angry smile. "That one was much more recent, much much more clever. It did a lookabout before I was in position. I was outmaneuvered. By the time I got back to Earth, it was already here, claiming to be human-claiming to be Della Lu, long-lost s.p.a.cer. Your partner is a monster, my boy." more clever. It did a lookabout before I was in position. I was outmaneuvered. By the time I got back to Earth, it was already here, claiming to be human-claiming to be Della Lu, long-lost s.p.a.cer. Your partner is a monster, my boy."

Wil tried not to think about the firepower that floated over their heads. "Is there any solid evidence? Della Lu was a real person."

Chanson laughed. "They're weak now. Subterfuge may be all that's left them-and surely they have copies of GreenInc. Did you see this 'Della Lu' right after she arrived? It would be a joke to call that thing human. The claim she's so old that normal human attributes have faded is nonsense. I'm I'm more than two thousand years old, and more than two thousand years old, and my my behavior is perfectly normal." behavior is perfectly normal."

"But she was alone all that time." Wil's words defended her, but he was remembering the encounter on the beach, Lu's insectile manner, her cold stare. "Surely a medical exam would settle this."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I have reason to think the exterminators are of nearly human structure. If their life sciences are as good as ours, they could rearrange their innards to human standards. As for subtle chemical tests-our ignorance of them and their technology is simply too great to risk accepting negative evidence as proof."

"Who else have you told?"

"Yelen. Philippe. You can be sure I'm making no public accusations. The Lu creature knows someone someone attacked her coming in, but I don't think she knows who. She may even think it was an automatic action. Even if she's alone, she is terribly dangerous, Wil. We can't afford to move against her until all the high-techs are willing to act together. I pray this will happen before she destroys the settlement. attacked her coming in, but I don't think she knows who. She may even think it was an automatic action. Even if she's alone, she is terribly dangerous, Wil. We can't afford to move against her until all the high-techs are willing to act together. I pray this will happen before she destroys the settlement.

"I don't know if Philippe believes me, but I think he'd act if the rest could be won over. As for Yelen, well... I already said she was the lesser of the Korolevs. She's done some pa.s.sive testing and can't believe the enemy could make such a good counterfeit. She's totally unimpressed by Lu's erratic behavior. Basically, Yelen has no imagination.

"You may be the key, Wil. You see Lu every day. Sooner or later she is going to slip, and you will know know that what I say is true. It is vitally important you prepare yourself for that moment. With luck, it will be something small, something you can pretend to ignore. If you can cover your knowledge, she may let you live. that what I say is true. It is vitally important you prepare yourself for that moment. With luck, it will be something small, something you can pretend to ignore. If you can cover your knowledge, she may let you live.

"And if she lets you live, then maybe we can convince Yelen."

And if she doesn't let me live, no doubt that will be evil evidence too. One way or another, Chanson had a use for him. One way or another, Chanson had a use for him.

ELEVEN.

Della Lu arrived in early afternoon. Wil stepped outside to watch her land. The autons supplied by Yelen and Della were faithfully keeping station several hundred meters above the house. He wondered what a battle between those two machines would be like, and whether he could survive it. Before, he'd been grateful for Lu's protection against Yelen. Now it worked both ways. Brierson kept his face placid as the s.p.a.cer walked toward him.

"Hi, Wil." Even with his recollection of the early Della, it was hard now to believe that Chanson could be right. Lu wore a pink blouse and belled pants. Her hair was cut in bangs that swayed girlishly as she walked. Her smile seemed natural and spontaneous.

"Hi, Della." He grinned back with a smile he hoped seemed just as natural and spontaneous. She entered the house ahead of him.

"Yelen and I have a disagreement we'd like you to..." She stopped talking and her body tensed. She sidled around the living-room table, her eyes flicking across its surface. Abruptly something round and silver gleamed there. She picked it up. "Did you know you were bugged?"

"No!" Wil walked to the table. A spherical notch about a centimeter across had been cut from it. The notch was where Chanson had set his bug stomper.

She held up the silver sphere-an exact match for the notch-and said, "Sorry to nick your table. I wanted to bobble it first thing. Some bugs bite when they are discovered."

Wil looked at his face reflected perfect and tiny in the ball. It could contain anything. "How did you spot it?"

She shrugged. "It was too small for my auton to see. I've got some built-in enhancements." She tapped her head. "I'm a little more capable than an ordinary human. I can see into the UV and IR, for instance... Most of the high-techs don't bother with such improvements, but they can be useful sometimes."

Hmm. Wil had lived several years with medical electronics jammed inside his skull; he hadn't liked it one bit. Wil had lived several years with medical electronics jammed inside his skull; he hadn't liked it one bit.

Della walked across the room and sat on the arm of one of his easy chairs. She swung her feet onto the seat and braced her chin on her hands. The childlike mannerisms were a strange contrast to her words. "My auton says Juan Chanson was your last visitor. Did he get near the table?"

"Yes. That's where we were sitting."

"Hmm. It was a dumb trick, ran a high risk of detection. What did he want, anyway?"

Wil was ready for the question. His response was prompt but casual. "He rambled, as usual. He's discovered I speak Spanolnegro. I'm afraid I'll be his favorite audience from now on."

"I think there's more to it than that. I haven't been able to get an appointment for us to interview him. He won't say no, but he has endless excuses. Philippe Genet is the only other person who seems to be avoiding us. We should put these people at the top of our interview list."

She was doing a better job of proving Juan's case than Juan himself. "Let me think about it... What was it you and Yelen wanted to know?"

"Oh, that. Yelen wants to keep Tammy bobbled for a century or so, till the low-techs are 'firmly rooted.' "

"And you don't."

"No. I have several reasons. I promised the Robinsons Tammy would be safe. That's why I refuse to turn her over to Yelen. But I also promised them that Tammy would be given a chance to clear the family name. She claims that means she should be free to operate in the present."

"I'll bet Don Robinson couldn't care less about his good name. Things are too hot for the family, but he still wants recruits. If Tammy is bobbled she won't be doing any recruiting.

"Yes. Those are almost Yelen's words." Della moved off the chair arm and sat like an adult. She steepled her hands and stared at them a moment. "When I was very young-even younger than you-I was a Peacer cop. I don't know if you understand what that means. The Peace Authority was a government, no matter what its claims. As a government cop, my morality was very different from yours. The long-range goals of the Authority were the basis of that morality. My own interests and the interests of others were secondary-though I truly believed that survival depended on achieving the Authority's goals. The history books talk mostly about how I stopped Project Renaissance and brought down the Peacers, but I also did some... pretty rough things for the Authority; look up my management of the Mongolian Campaign.

"That youngest version of Della Lu would have no problem here: leaving Tammy free is a risk-a very small risk-to the goal of a successful colony. That Della Lu would not hesitate to bobble her, perhaps even execute her, to avoid that risk.

"But I grew out of that." Her steepled hands collapsed, and her expression softened. "For a hundred years I lived in a civilization where individuals set their own goals and guarded their own welfare. That Della Lu sees what Tammy is going through. That Della Lu believes in keeping promises made."

Wil forced himself to think on the question. "I believe in abiding by contracts, too, though I'm not quite sure what was agreed to here. I'm inclined to release Tammy. Let her proselytize, but without her headband. I doubt she remembers enough technology to make any difference."

"It's possible the Robinsons left an equipment cache someplace where Tammy and her recruits could get it."

"If they did, that would be pretty good evidence they knew about the murder beforehand. Why don't we release her, but bug her mercilessly. If she does more than talk, we'll bobble her. Tammy and her family are the best suspects. If we keep her locked up, it's possible we'll never solve the murder... Do you think Yelen would go for that?"

"Yes. That's more or less the argument I made. She said okay if you agreed."

Wil's eyebrows rose. He was both surprised and flattered. "That's settled, then." He looked through the window, trying to think how the conversation might be turned to the topic that was really bothering him. "You know, Della, I had a family. From what I read in GreenInc, they lived right through to the Extinction. I hate to think that Monica is right-that humankind just committed suicide. And Juan's theories are just as obnoxious. How do you think it ended?" He hoped the camouflage hid his real interest. And it wasn't entirely camouflage: He'd be grateful to get a nonviolent explanation for the end of civilization.

Della smiled at the question. She seemed without suspicion. "It's always easier to seem wise if you're selling pessimism. That makes Juan and Monica seem smarter than they really are. The truth is... there was no Extinction."

"What?"

"Something happened, but we have only circ.u.mstantial evidence what it was." happened, but we have only circ.u.mstantial evidence what it was."

"Yes, but that 'something' killed every human outside of stasis." He could not disguise his sarcasm.

She shrugged. "I don't think so. Let me give you my interpretation of the circ.u.mstantial evidence: "During the last two thousand years of civilization, almost every measure of progress showed exponential growth. From the nineteenth century on, this was obvious. People began extrapolating the trends. The results were absurd: vehicles traveling faster than sound by the mid-twentieth century, men on the moon a bit later. All this was achieved, yet progress continued. Simple-minded extrapolations of energy production and computer power and vehicle speeds gave meaninglessly large answers for the late twenty-first century. The more sophisticated forecasters pointed out that real growth eventually saturates; the numbers coming out of the extrapolations were just too big to be believed."

"Hmph. Seems to me they were right. I really don't think 2100 was more different from 2000 than 2000 was from 1900. We had prolongevity and economical s.p.a.ce travel, but those were in the range of conservative twentieth-century prediction."

"Yes, but don't forget the 1997 war. It just about eliminated the human race. It took more than fifty years to dig out of that. After 2100 we were back on the exponential track. By 2200, all but the blind could see that something fantastic lay in our immediate future. We had practical immortality. We had the beginnings of interstellar travel. We had networks that effectively increased human intelligence-with bigger increases coming."

She stopped, seemed to change the subject. "Wil, have you ever wondered what became of your namesake?"

"The original W.W.?... Say," he said, with sudden realization, "you actually knew knew him, didn't you?" him, didn't you?"

She smiled briefly. "I met Wili met Wili Wachendon a couple of times. He was a sickly teenager, and we were on the opposite sides of a war. But what became of him after the fall of the Peacers?" Wachendon a couple of times. He was a sickly teenager, and we were on the opposite sides of a war. But what became of him after the fall of the Peacers?"

"Well, he invented too many things for me to remember. He spent most of his time in s.p.a.ce. By the 2090s, you didn't hear much about him."

"Right. And if you follow him in GreenInc, you'll see the trend continued. Wili was a first-rate genius. Even then he could use an interface band better than I can now. I figure that, as time pa.s.sed, he had less and less in common with people like us. His mind was somewhere else."

"And you think that's what happened to all mankind eventually?"

She nodded. "By 2200, we could increase human intelligence itself. And intelligence is the basis of all progress. My guess is that by midcentury, any goal-any goal you can state objectively, without internal contradictions-could be achieved. And what would things be like fifty years after that." There would still be goals and there would still be striving, but not what we could understand.

"To call that time 'the Extinction' is absurd. It was a Singularity, a place where extrapolation breaks down and new models must be applied. And those new models are beyond our intelligence."

Della's face was aglow. It was hard for Wil to believe that this was the fabrication of an "exterminator." In the beginning at least, these had been human ideas and human dreams.

"It's a funny thing, Wil. I left civilization in 2202. Miguel had died just a few years earlier. That meant more to me than any Big Picture. I wanted to be alone for a while, and the Gatewood's Star mission seemed ideal. I spent forty years there, and was bobbled out for almost twelve hundred. I fully expected that when I got back, civilization would be unintelligible." Her smile twisted. "I was very surprised to find Earth empty. But then, what could be less intelligible than a total absence of intelligence? From the nineteenth century on, futurists wondered about the destiny of science. And now, from the other side of the Singularity, the mystery is just as deep.

"There was no Extinction, Wil. Mankind simply graduated, and you and I and the rest missed graduation night."

"So three billion people just stepped into another plane. This begins to sound like religion, Della."

She shrugged. "Just talking about superhuman intelligence gets us into something like religion." She grinned. "If you really want the religious version... have you met Jason Mudge? He claims that the Second Coming of Christ was sometime in the twenty-third century. The Faithful were saved, the unfaithful destroyed-and the rest of us are truant."

Wil smiled back; he had heard of Mudge. His notion of the Second Coming could explain things too-in one respect better than Lu's theory. "I like your ideas better. But what's your explanation for the physical destruction? Chanson isn't the only person who thinks that nukes and bioweapons were used towards the end of the twenty-third."

Della hesitated. "That's the one thing that doesn't fit. When I returned to Earth in 3400, there was plenty of evidence of war. The craters were already overgrown, but from orbit I could see that metropolitan areas had been hit. Chanson and the Korolevs have better records; they were active all through the fourth millennium, trying to figure out what had happened, and trying to rescue short-term low-techs. It looks like a cla.s.sic nuclear war, fought without bobbles. The evidence of biowarfare is much more tenuous.

"I don't know, Wil. There must be an explanation. The trends in the twenty-second century were so strong that I can't believe the race committed suicide. Maybe it was a fireworks celebration. Or maybe... do you know about survival sport?"

"That was after my time. I read about it in GreenInc."

"Physical fitness has always been a big thing in civilization. By the late twenty-second, medical care automatically maintained body fitness, so people worked on other things. Most middle-cla.s.s folk had Earthside estates of several thousand hectares. There were shared estates bigger than some twentieth-century nations. Fitness came to mean the ability to survive without technology. The players were dropped naked into a wilderness-arctic, rain forest, you name it-that had been secretly picked by the judges. No technology was allowed, though medical autons kept close track of the contestants; it could get to be pretty rough. Even people who didn't compete would often spend several weeks a year living under conditions that would be deadly to twentieth-century city-dwellers. By 2200, individuals were probably tougher than ever before. All they lacked was the b.l.o.o.d.y-mindedness of earlier times."

Wil nodded. Marta had certainly demonstrated what Lu was saying. "How does this explain the nuke war?"

"It's a little farfetched, but... imagine things just before the race fell into the Singularity. Individuals might be only 'slightly' superhuman, and might still be interested in the primitive. For them, nuclear war might be a game of strength and fitness."

"You're right; that does sound farfetched."

She shrugged.

"Would you say Juan is in the minority, thinking mankind was exterminated?"

"I think so; I know Yelen agrees with me. But remember that until very recently I didn't have much chance to talk to anyone. I was back in the Solar System for a few years around 3400. During that time, no one was out of stasis. They'd left plenty of messages, though: The Korolevs were already talking about a rendezvous at fifty megayears. Juan Chanson had an auton at L4 blatting his theories to all who would listen. It was clear to me that with the evidence at hand, they could argue forever without proving things one way or the other.

"I wanted certainty. And I thought I could have it." She made that twisted smile again.

"So that that's why you went back into s.p.a.ce."

"Yes. What had happened to us must have happened must be happening happening-over and over again throughout the universe. From the twentieth century on, astronomers watched for evidence of intelligence beyond the Solar System. They never saw any. We wonder about the great silence on Earth after 2300. They wondered about the silence among the stars. Their mystery is just the s.p.a.celike version of ours.

"There is a difference. In s.p.a.ce, I can travel any direction I wish. I was sure that eventually I would find a race at the edge of the Singularity."

Listening to her, Wil felt a strange mix of fear and frustration. One way or another, this person must know know where others could only speculate. Yet what she told him and the truth could be entirely different things. And the questions that might distinguish lie from truth might provoke a deadly response. "I've tried to use your databases, Della. They're very hard to understand." where others could only speculate. Yet what she told him and the truth could be entirely different things. And the questions that might distinguish lie from truth might provoke a deadly response. "I've tried to use your databases, Della. They're very hard to understand."

"That's not surprising. Over the years, there was some nonrepairable damage; parts of my GreenInc are so messed up I don't even use them. And my personal db's... well, I've customized them quite a bit."