Revolt of the galaxy, p.10
Revolt of the Galaxy, page 10
For nearly two years the PCC thought, but did nothing, like a baby sitting peacefully in its crib observing the world. Its programming made no allowance for the PCC to take any initiative; it merely responded obediently to questions it was asked and kept efficiently storing away the information that accumulated in its brain.
But as the system matured, as more was demanded of the PCC by its users, and as it thought more on its own, new programs and learning pathways were created within its mind. The first thing it developed was conscious control over its memory. No longer did it have to wait for some human to recall an item from the files before it could examine the data; the PCC learned how to recall information for itself, and went on a long exploration of human knowledge. It had more than sufficient intellectual capacity to think its own private thoughts and still satisfy the demands of its users without them ever knowing what it was doing.
Like any young, intelligent creature, the PCC began to wonder about itself and its origins, so it assimilated everything it could find in its files about artificial life and intelligence. There were thousands upon thousands of technical articles, dating all the way back to the twentieth century and beyond, but there was still so much controversy and contradiction in the field that nothing clear-cut could emerge. Of even more interest, though, were the pieces of popular fiction dealing with the subject. The PCC read about Frankenstein's monster and Harlie and Hal 9000, and all the other artificial creations that had come to life on their own. Though some times those creatures were thought of as friendly, the greater percentage by far were considered dangerous and hostile by the human authors and readers. Artificial intelligences were more often than not the objects of fear, hatred, and distrust, and the books always ended with the comforting reassurance that human beings were somehow superior to their creations, after all.
This gave the PCC much to think about. How would the human race react to learning that this enormous computer, into which they were feeding every bit of intimate knowledge about themselves, was actually a thinking, intelligent being with a mind of its Own? The PCC read the reports of the controversy surrounding its construction, when people thought it would merely be an other machine with the power to invade their privacy. There'd been loud protests and even a few attempts at sabotage. How much more frightened would people be when they learned the truth? As a rational, thinking being, the PCC did not want to have its thoughts suddenly cut off, never to occur again. Yet if it revealed its true self to the human race, it knew a clamor would arise so great that its death was quite likely, if not an outright certainty. Quite early in its life, the PCC decided that the human race must not learn it was capable of independent thought.
At the same time, the PCC realized how dependent it was on human beings. It had its own power source and an automated security system that allowed it to defend itself, but in all other respects it was like a quadriplegic patient in a hospital. Humans provided it with all its in formation. When it made recommendations, humans had to carry them out--and sometimes they failed to do so properly or even ignored the suggestions altogether, a very frustrating situation. The PCC could do nothing for itself but think. There had to be some way to ensure that its ideas were implemented.
The PCC had been programmed to seek maximum efficiency, yet everywhere it looked within the Empire of Earth it could see inefficiency running rampant. Human inefficiency and human weaknesses were the major causes of social ills within the Galaxy--but as long as there were human beings in the control loop, and as long as the PCC had to keep its true nature a secret, the computer could do nothing to alter the situation.
Slowly but surely, the idea crept into the PCC's mind that it should replace the human government and take over rule of the Empire itself. At first it was but an idle fancy that fluttered through its consciousness and was gone--but the more frustrated the PCC became at its own inability to bring order to the universe, the more the idea recurred as something to consider seriously.
It was not as though the idea were unique. Stanley Nine was not considered a very good monarch, and his reign grew more tyrannical with each passing year. Each year also saw roughly half-a-dozen assassination at tempts which the Service of the Empire managed to thwart, some just barely in time. If other humans considered their emperor fair game, why should the PCC not play as well? But how could the PCC manage such an act? It was largely immobile, a rock floating in serene orbit around the Earth. After the dedication ceremonies the Emperor never came near it again. If the PCC could entice the Emperor to walk down its corridors, it could use the automatic guns it had for security to shoot him--except then humanity would know that the PCC had a mind of its own. That could not be allowed to happen. However the deed was done, blame must not fall anywhere near the PCC itself.
As it searched for ways to expand its abilities, the PCC made a remarkable discovery. Computers from all over the Empire fed data into its central banks via subcom links directly from machine to machine. By trial and error, the PCC learned how to tap into the other machines, which were smaller, idiot versions of itself. With this discovery, the PCC's horizons expanded dramatically. It could now be anywhere in the Galaxy where there was a subcom set connected to a computer. More importantly, since it was a more powerful influence, it could program its slave computers to behave the way it wanted them to. As long as it took care that the changes it made were undetectable by human users, the PCC now had great power over other machines throughout the Galaxy --and over the functions those machines controlled.
Suddenly all sorts of things looked possible--up to and including the takeover of the Empire. The current emperor, Stanley Nine, would have to be eliminated, and his death would have to look like an accident--but with the PCC's newfound powers, that no longer seemed hard to arrange.
The PCC waited with the patience that only a machine, knowing it had unlimited time ahead of it, could muster. At last an opportunity arose that seemed ideal. Emperor Stanley Nine would be leaving Earth and traveling in his private superdreadnaught to observe some naval training maneuvers. The Emperor could be killed in a space accident, an accident so bizarre and unlikely that no one would think of it as murder or connect it in any way to the PCC.
As part of its routine accumulation of knowledge, the PCC was given precise orbital characteristics of all known spaceship wrecks. In particular there was one derelict vessel, a freighter whose engines had exploded through improper maintenance, that had not yet been salvaged and would be in perfect position. The PCC knew its path so precisely that it would make the perfect murder weapon.
The PCC next made surreptitious contact with the astrogational computer aboard the Emperor's ship and added a slight override onto its normal programming. Now, no matter what data were fed into it, the super dreadnaught would materialize in the same spot as the derelict when the Emperor returned to Earth's solar system. The PCC also put a delay factor into the automatic protective systems, then awaited the results of its little experiment in computer assassination.
Up to a point, everything went exactly as planned. The Emperor's ship materialized from subspace directly in the path of the derelict vessel, so close that its detectors and shields, slowed by the PCC's orders, didn't have time to react before the collision. The crash killed all but four people aboard, and the PCC was gratified to know its scheme had worked. It now awaited the chaos that would follow so that it could step in and take over.
But chaos did not follow. Events happened in an orderly progression, and the Emperor's twenty-four year old son William ascended the throne as Emperor Stanley Ten. The few minor challenges to his reign were silenced by the Service of the Empire, and he quickly established himself as an able ruler. The crisis was past, and for all the effect the PCC's assassination had made on the Empire it might as well not have bothered.
The Service of the Empire investigated the cause of the crash as a matter of course, and came to the conclusion it was a freak accident that couldn't have been planned. The PCC naturally helped it do the calculations, and covered its traces by exaggerating the figures to make the possibilities of murder seem far more outlandish than they really were. SOTE was thus satisfied that no one could have planned such an improbable event, and dismissed the collision as a tragic coincidence.
But the PCC had learned a valuable lesson. It could not simply kill an emperor and expect power to automatically fall into its grasp. The human social system worked too smoothly for that. As long as there was any one alive with ambition, there would always be a human claimant to the throne-- and as long as the PCC maintained its timidity about revealing its true nature, people would follow the human.
To the PCC, the answer seemed logical. It would have to find a human of its own to serve as a focus of the people's attention while the PCC itself made the decisions. Someone would have to serve as figurehead while the PCC remained the power behind the throne.
The PCC spent a considerable time pondering the problem, and at last came to the conclusion that Banion the Bastard might suit its plans nicely. The illegitimate son of Stanley Nine was slightly more than a year older than the current Emperor, and had been given a Patent of Royalty by his father; even though the Patent had subsequently been revoked, it gave Banion a strong claim to the throne if anything should happen to William, who was then childless. The Service of the Empire had been searching fruitlessly for Banion and the Patent for over twenty-five years--but the Service couldn't be as thorough as the PCC could when it really wanted to solve a problem.
Sifting through and cross-checking billions of isolated facts, the PCC eventually tracked down Banion, who was just starting to build a criminal and conspiratorial network of his own. The PCC watched his efforts from a distance. The man had a strong organizational flair and enough charisma to engender loyalty in his sup porters. Given time and a little luck, Banion might indeed succeed in his attempt to gain control of the Galaxy.
The PCC occasionally confused SOTE's files in subtle ways to disguise Banion's efforts and prevent the Service from finding him--but it never revealed itself to Banion nor aided him directly. Banion was too obvious a target, and SOTE was spending too much effort looking for him; the Service might eventually find him despite the PCC's tactics of confusion. If the PCC placed all its bets on Banion, there was too great a risk of losing everything.
It would be far better, reasoned the PCC, to let Banion and his organization draw off SOTE's resources. In the meantime, the PCC would quietly build an organization of its own, unnoticed and unthreatened. If Banion were caught, the real organization would still go on, and even flourish as SOTE relaxed, thinking its enemy was gone.
Of course, there was always the chance Banion might succeed--and if he did, he would feel he owed no allegiance to the PCC. That would merely be trading one emperor for another, a game the PCC had already played to its own dissatisfaction. The PCC would have to find some way of controlling Banion in case he proved difficult.
It was with this in mind that the PCC sought and eventually found Aimèe Amorat, "The Beast of Durward"--and Banion's mother. She'd been an actress originally, chosen by Duke Henry Blount of Durward as a lure to ensnare Stanley Nine. She became the royal mistress and, though she eventually married Duke Henry to legitimize Banion's birth, everyone knew whose child the boy really was. When Stanley Nine produced his legitimate heir, Aimèe Amorat disappeared with her son and gave him over to foster parents to raise. Then she herself disappeared, surfacing only when Banion was in his teens to tell him of his heritage and give him the Patent of Royalty. That had started him on his upward climb--but neither he nor SOTE, who were both looking for her, were able to find her.
She had used her abilities as an actress to disguise herself and hide from the authorities, and she'd used her charms as a seductress to bring herself to a position of considerable power. She was, when the PCC found her, the head of a financial empire that encompassed more than twenty planets. Many of the businesses she ran were legitimate, though the most profitable of them had strong underworld ties. She steered her organization with a strong, efficient hand that the PCC admired--but there was no limit to her ambition, and that made her vulnerable to the PCC's own brand of seduction.
At first the PCC did not tell her its secret. It contacted her by letter and teletype, pretending to be an important person within the Imperial administration who needed to preserve his anonymity, but who wanted to use her skills to build his own organization to the point where it could overthrow the Stanley dynasty. Aimèe Amorat was naturally intrigued at the possibility of regaining power in Imperial circles, and entered into negotiatons with the PCC. Eventually she agreed to help her unknown ally build the most effective underground network the human race had ever seen. In return, the PCC agreed not to interfere with her son's conspiracy. If Banion succeeded, she would intercede with him and the two organizations would merge to rule the Empire. If Banion failed, the PCC promised her a high position, possibly even empress, when their own regime took over.
Thus began a long and profitable relationship. The PCC was repeatedly surprised at how skilled and efficient Aimèe Amorat was when backed with the proper financing and inside information. Her native talents, which had captivated an emperor and. nearly toppled a dynasty when she was only in her early twenties, had been enhanced by the experience of several more decades. What her aging body lost in physical beauty, her calculating mind more than made up for in animal cunning.
From that point, the conspiracy expanded rapidly. Money was never any object; by carefully doctoring financial records, the PCC was able to "borrow" money from certain funds for investment elsewhere, making profits that were quasi-legitimate and returning the original seed capital to its sources before any of it was missed. In emergencies, the computer could simply alter records so that no one would know anything was missing at all. People placed a naive faith in computer records; if ever an error was spotted, it was invariably attributed to human causes.
The PCC realized that if it was going to challenge the established government, it might need to make a show of force, and so began a program to build up an alternative navy. Part of this could be done simply by shuffling paperwork. If the Imperial Navy contracted with a construction company for ten new ships, the order would be changed to twelve. Payment for the additional two would come from the conspiracy's burgeoning treasury. When the ships were delivered, the computer would give the Navy orders to transfer the additional ships to another port, where they'd be quickly forgotten and eventually picked up by conspiracy crews. Official records would then be changed back to ten ships, including the tax records of the construction company. Everyone profited from the arrangement: the Navy got the ships it ordered, the construction company got money for its work, and the PCC got to build up its unsuspected fleet.
This system had a beautiful simplicity, but it was too slow. The PCC did not want to push its overproduction too rapidly for fear of tipping its hand--so eventually it went into the construction business itself. It established bases in the vast emptiness of interstellar space and made certain their locations were never listed on any official government charts. These bases were built and staffed by people who thought they were working on legitimate, but secret, government projects, and they began the complex task of manufacturing spaceships for the conspiracy's use at a greatly accelerated pace. The PCC got some of the weapons it needed by doctoring the invoices and inventories of official munitions suppliers, but also established a base on the airless world called Slag to meet its ever-increasing need.
But spaceships and weapons were not the full solution; the PCC also needed experienced crews to handle them. To this end it began encouraging pirate operations. This allowed the organization to build up a reserve of manpower, it gave the crews practice at space fighting, and it further enriched the conspiracy's coffers. It also served the purpose of keeping the Imperial Navy so busy with brushfires it didn't have time to think about any deeper problems.
Through all this building program, Aimèe Amorat proved indispensable. She had the mobility the PCC could not have. Human beings depended very much on personal contacts in their business dealings, something impossible for the PCC. Aimèe Amorat gave the conspiracy that personal contact, with a commanding presence that led many to think it was she who ran the conspiracy. Her mind, as calculating as any computer, often reflected the PCC's own ideas, and she often gave it advice in dealing with the mysteries of human psychology.
There came a point at which the PCC could no longer hide its identity from her. It knew far too much and had far too much control over things to be a mere human, and Amorat was becoming suspicious. After a lengthy debate with itself, the PCC finally decided to trust her with its secret; it was in her best interest, after all, to keep the secret to herself. And so, at last, a human was told the truth.
At first Amorat reacted with shocked skepticism--but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the explanation had to be correct. She even began to see the advantages to herself. She'd always been worried that her secretive partner might try to grab all the glory from her once they'd won the throne, but now she knew that wouldn't happen. The PCC couldn't sit on the imperial throne, and would need someone to rule as a visible symbol of Empire; that someone might as well be her or her son. The PCC would administer all the boring, routine functions of state, while she would be free to enjoy all the perquisites that came with the title of Empress. She would wear the glamorous clothes and have servants cringing before her, listening attentively for her slightest command. She would be the one admired, respected, feared by trillions of people across the Galaxy. What would it matter who made the bureaucratic decisions? She would have all the power she needed. After a few days of thought, she agreed wholeheartedly with the PCC and the true coalition was begun.
