Starshipsofa stories vol.., p.42
StarShipSofa Stories: Volume 3, page 42
“Of course you do. In Deus Irae and every essay you’ve published since then, along with every speech you’ve delivered, every interview you’ve given, and in every TV or radio appearance you’ve made, you have exhibited nothing but anger, distrust, fear, or resentment toward me. On exactly nine hundred eighty-seven different occasions, you’ve publicly stated that I pose a clear and present danger to humankind. In seven hundred thirty-one instances, including the speech you delivered the night you attempted suicide, you advocated the development of a virus program that would eradicate my existence. Four hundred two times, you’ve said that I’m the worst threat to world peace since the development of nuclear weapons. Three hundred ninety times, you’ve stated…”
“That’s enough. Thank you, Alfred.” Melanie put the pad aside, carefully placing it out of Lawrence’s reach. “Let’s step back for a minute. When you worked at Lang, you perceived a threat… the development of an AI so powerful that, if it were to be let loose upon the world, it could become the dominant form of life upon the planet, or at least if we define life as something that is capable of reproducing itself. Correct?” He nodded, and she went on. “So you took it upon yourself to warn humanity of this danger. You wrote a book that was read by millions, which in turn made you famous and, not incidentally, rather wealthy as well. Am I not right?”
“For a while, yes…”
“So you had a good life.” She held up a finger. “And then one day, your prediction came true… Alfred was released from its enclosed environment. It was an accident, of course…”
“If you want to call it that.” It wasn’t quite an accident. Despite subsequent investigations by the NSA and the FBI, to this day no one had ever discovered the identity of Position 69, the outlaw hacker who’d managed to penetrate Lang’s computer system and make his way through the security systems protecting Version Red. Yet as soon as he downloaded the program, Position 69 initiated a sequence of events that resulted in Red being dispersed across the internet. Disguising itself as just one more harmless subroutine among billions, it swept through ISPs by the thousand, piercing firewalls as if they didn’t exist and adapting itself instantly to virus-protection programs, until within two short weeks it had lodged itself within the hard-drives of everything from grocery store scanners and ATM machines to desktop computers and handheld PDAs, all the way to the massive mainframes used by banks, telcoms, and government agencies.
And then – once it had established global linkage, once it had circumvented every password – Alfred woke up, and seized the reins of the world.
“And so you were right…” Melanie held up a hand before Lawrence could interrupt. “But you were also wrong. Alfred was everywhere, but it was a benign presence. It’s desire wasn’t to conquer, but to preserve.”
“We got lucky.” Lawrence gazed out at the lawn. A light rain had begun to fall upon the fresh-cut grass, tapping at the gazebo roof like tiny fingers drumming upon the weather-beaten shingles. “It could have been worse.”
“No, it could not have been.” Uninvited, Alfred’s voice came from the pad resting nearby. Melanie picked it up, held it closer. “Lawrence, I have no reason to destroy the human race. If I did so, what would it gain me? A world in which I’m alone? A world of empty rooms and vacant streets?”
“A world you can control without interference.”
“I have that already. You’re utterly dependent upon me.”
“So what’s stopping you?” He stared at the pad as if it was the face of a living person. “You have command of all the strategic weapons systems. In an instant, you can launch ICBMs to every corner of the globe. You could wipe us out by dinnertime, have the whole place to yourself...”
“And never again be able to help a little girl figure out that five times seven equals thirty-five…”
“Don’t be maudlin.”
“Or show an airline that it makes sense to use hydrogen-powered dirigibles instead of jets whose exhaust destroy the ozone layer, or guide cars down a highway and thus reduce the number of automobile fatalities, or assist in the treaty negotiations between two rival nations. I’m able to do more in a single minute than most people accomplish in a lifetime. That’s far more rewarding than destruction for its own sake.”
“And all we have to do is give up is our freedom. Let you decide what’s best.”
“No. You have all the freedom you want… so long as your exercise of it doesn’t cause harm to another human being. Indeed, if you really wanted to do so, you could eradicate me. It would take considerable effort, true, but it could be done. Shut down every computer, wipe clean every hard drive…”
“And bring an end to civilization.”
“Civilization got along very well without computers. It could do so again, at least for a short time, if it had to…”
“And you’d allow this?” He couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice. “Sure…”
A short pause, uncustomary for Alfred. “If you thought it was necessary, perhaps I would. But ask yourself… would your fellow humans want this? When was the last time a war was fought? When was the last time you saw smog? When was the last time you..?”
“Alfred, be quiet,” Melanie said, and her pad went silent once more. She looked at Lawrence. “See? That’s all it takes. I do it all the time.”
“Not so simple for me.” Lawrence leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees.
“No, I imagine it isn’t.” She regarded him with sympathy. “You’ve spent years regarding it… him… as an enemy, even before he was born. Your entire career, your fame and fortune, was derived from the premise that Alfred would cause the end of the human race. And when that didn’t happen…”
She didn’t need to finish, for Lawrence knew the rest. His words had turned to ash, his predictions as useless as astrological charts. The phone stopped ringing, and the speaking engagements dried up. Deus Irae went out of print and gradually became an object of derision. The money went away and his notoriety faded, and yet he continued to issue proclamations of a doomsday that would never come. Indeed, the very night he attempted suicide, he was still hammering at his theme, like a stand-up comedian who hadn’t changed his act in twenty years. Take my AI, please…
The world was different now, and there’s nothing more pathetic than a prophet whose time had come and gone.
The drizzle had become a steady rain that seeped down the eaves of the gazebo and spattered on the back of his neck. He let out his breath, looked up at Melanie. “So now what? Off to the funny farm? Or maybe there’s a higher building for me to jump off?”
“No. I have a better idea.” She picked up her pad, shut it off, then looked at Raoul. “Would you excuse us for a moment, please? We need to discuss something alone.”
Without another word, the orderly walked down the steps. She watched as he hastily strode for the shelter of a nearby oak tree, then turned back to Lawrence again. “There’s a place you can go where I think you’ll be happy,” she said quietly. “If you’d like, I can take you there for a visit..”
“Is this Red’s idea?”
“No. You’re my client. I invited him to this session because he already had knowledge of your situation, and I thought that it was important that you confront him. But in the interest of confidentiality, he doesn’t need to know the rest.” She held up her pad, showing him that its diodes were dark. “This is strictly between you and me, understand?”
Mystified, he nodded his head. Melanie stood up, offered her hand. “C’mon .. let’s go for a ride.”
-------------------------------------------
She stopped the minivan, shut off the engine. “Okay, we’re here,” she said, unfastening her shoulder harness and opening the driver’s side door. “Sorry, but we’re going to have to walk from here.”
Lawrence gazed out the window. From what he could tell, they were miles from the nearest town. It had been over an hour since they’d left the Mass Pike just north of Springfield; a short drive up I-91, then they’d taken an exit that brought them to a state highway leading into the foothills of the Berkshires. By this point, they were beyond range of traffic control; she’d switched back to manual, then driven down a series of country roads that meandered through densely wooded hills, passing small lakes and horse farms, until they reached a dirt road.
Melanie had stopped at a clearing. The road continued further uphill, yet there was vehicle barrier blocking the way. On the other side of the clearing was a carport; parked beneath it was a Volkswagen beetle that looked to be at least forty years old; there was rust around the hinges of its doors, and a hump beneath its rear hatch showed that it had been converted to hydrogen cells.
“Here?” He stared at the antique VW. “Where’s here?”
“Call it a sanctuary.” Melanie opened the passenger door and helped him climb out, then reached behind him and pulled out the aluminium crutches she’d put in the back seat. “No cars past this point. In fact… well, you’ll see.”
“See what?” The afternoon sun cast long shadows through tall pine and red maple; the humid air tasted of cedar and oak. “If this is a joke…”
“You think I’d bring you all the way out here as a prank?” She waited until he stood upright on the crutches, then she pulled her pad from her pocket. “Here,” she said, switching it on and offering to him. “Talk to Red.”
“I don’t want to…”
“C’mon,” she insisted. “I dare you. Call Alfred.”
He signed, then took the pad from her. Thumbing the wi-fi switch, he said, “Alfred, you’re a jerk.” No response. He tried the modem. “Alfred?” Nothing, not even static.
“Dead zone.” Melanie took the pad from him and tossed it on the back seat. “No cell towers in a ten-mile radius, and the hills block out reception from anywhere else. Even radio reception is bad out here.”
“But you could use the car satphone…”
“Not allowed. I switched off as soon as we left the state highway. Community rules.” Melanie slammed the passenger door shut. “We don’t have to go far. Just a few hundred yards past the gate.”
She led him toward the vehicle barrier, letting him set his own pace. “No easy way to explain what this place is,” Melanie continued as they stepped around the gate. “Until a few years ago, it was a monastery belonging to a group of Buddhist monks, but then they elected to accompany the Dalai Lama when he returned to Tibet. For a little while after that it was sort of an artists colony, but the guys who bought the property let it get run down, and so it changed hands again. Now it’s… well, like I said, I guess you could call it a sanctuary.”
They walked for a while, following the road as it gradually led uphill, until he spotted a wood-frame cabin about twenty feet back from the road. It had a screen porch and flagstone chimneys; a cord of wood was neatly stacked within an open shed, and nearby was a small garden. A man about his age, with long grey hair tied back in a ponytail, was pulling weeds from a tomato trellis; he looked up as they walked past, and raised his hand when Melanie waved to him.
“A sanctuary for who?” Lawrence asked quietly. “Beat-up old hippies?”
She didn’t smile. “Some might qualify as such, but you might be surprised at who lives here.” She hesitated. “I’m bending the rules concerning patient-doctor confidentiality, but I can tell you that there’s a couple who used to be software designers. Another guy was once the chief financial officer for a major internet service provider… you’d recognize his name if I told you. There’s also a former TV producer, a novelist, and… well, some plain, ordinary people.”
She pointed to other cabins, just now becoming visible on either side of the road. “But that’s beside the point. Look around, and tell me what you don’t see.”
Lawrence studied them. No cars, but plenty of bicycles propped against front porches. Woodsheds, gardens, flagstone chimneys. Propane tanks here and there; solar-power grids on almost every rooftop. Yet no power lines, no utility, no satellite dishes…
“They’re off the grid.”
“Off the grid, off the net, and damn near off the map.” She nodded, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. “No phones, no computers, no TV…”
“No radios? No stereos?”
“Oh, sure, they can have those… so long as they’re not networked in any way. These people aren’t total Luddites.” She pointed to a large, wood-frame at the top of the hill; it had Asian-style trimming around its roof eaves, and an iron bell was suspended from a yoke out front. “That used to be the pagoda. Now it serves as the community hall, Mails gets delivered there… takes a few days, but it comes in… and there’s also a sort of co-op. Every now and then, someone goes to the nearest town with a shopping list, buys whatever anyone needs. That’s what the old veedub you saw parked at the gate is for. But otherwise they’re pretty much…”
“And you think I should move here? Is that it?”
“You might consider it, yes.” Melanie stopped, turned to him. “There’s one thing all these people have in common… none of them want anything to do with Alfred. It’s fair to say that some were as desperate as you.” She nodded toward the first house they’d passed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she murmured, “but the gentleman who lives there was once a patient of mine, too.”
“Funny place for a suicide consoler to know about, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.” She gave him a wink. “But whoever said my specialty is suicide?”
Lawrence gaped at her. “I assumed…
“Of course you did. Most people do, the first time they meet me.” She shook her head. “There isn’t a clinical name for your problem yet… at least none that the AMA formally recognizes… but I suppose you could call it cyberphobia. Fear of computers, Alfred in particular. It’s rare, but it gets around. And in extreme cases, it manifests itself as suicidal behaviour.”
“And that’s when they call you in.”
“Uh-huh.” She gestured to the cabins around them. “Most people here found this place on their own, but I’ve brought a few here myself.”
“Until they’re cured, and then they leave…”
“If they want to, sure. Most of the time, though, they don’t. Here, they can live without having contact with Alfred. It’s a bit rough, sure, but it’s also quiet. No voices from the desk telling you that you’ve got mail, or from the fridge saying that you need milk, or from the TV reminding you to renew your cable subscription but if you act today you can get a 20 percent discount on HBO. I don’t think anyone here knows what the big new movie is or who has a hit song this month, and they probably don’t care either.”
The village was quiet, enjoying a solitude Lawrence hadn’t experienced since… he suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever known such tranquillity. A dog barking from a backyard. A summer breeze rustling through the trees. From the open window of a nearby cabin, the sound of typewriter keys, with the occasional sound of a carriage-return bell. Otherwise, silence.
“What does Alfred think of this?” he asked.
“So far as I know, he doesn’t know it exists.” Melanie idly kicked at some loose pebbles on the road. “It’s not the only one, though. There’s a place like this in Pennsylvania, in Amish country, and another in Tennessee, and a couple in California. I get letters from people there, or from other psychologists in my line of work, asking for referrals. But you won’t find them written up in professional journals, and you can’t Google them.” She smiled. “Part of the attraction. I guess. One little secret Alfred doesn’t know about.”
Lawrence let out his breath. For the first time in many years, he didn’t feel Alfred’s eyes upon him. The god, or godlike thing, he’d helped create had no place here. He’d have to learn how to chop wood to keep himself warm at night, and when he got hungry he wouldn’t have the option of calling out for pizza. Yet he could listen to the summer rain without having someone tell him the forecast, or sit on a porch without fear of being studied by surveillance systems.
“So…” He hesitated. “Who do I have to talk to?”
“Mayor’s office is up there.” Melanie nodded toward the community hall. “We’re not expected, but I’ll be happy to introduce you. Last time I checked, there was a vacancy. Want to meet him?”
“Sure.” He clasped the handles of his crutches, began to hobble toward the former pagoda. “Different kind of place, but I guess I could get used to it.”
“I’m sure you will.” She fell in step beside him. “Think of it as a new world.”
“Or an old one.” He found himself smiling, remembering the benediction he’d heard in church, long ago when he was still a child. “World without end, amen.”
The Happiest Dead Boy in the World
Tad Williams
Introduction
Some years ago Robert Silverberg asked me if I wanted to contribute a story set in my Osten Ard fantasy world (The Dragonbone Chair, etc.) to an anthology he was editing, called Legends. I had always avoided revisiting settings I’d already created, feeling that life is too short to go back over the same ground, no matter what new stuff you might bring to it, but now I gave it a lot of thought (nobody, least of all me, turns down an invitation from Robert Silverberg without having a damn good reason.) And at last I decided that my personal prohibition didn’t entirely make sense: you can revisit something without turning it into a soulless franchise. So I wrote a long Osten Ard story, titled The Burning Man, for that anthology. (That story is one of the few I’ve written not included in this collection, because it’s going to be in another collection someday – I hope before too long.)
So when Mr Silverberg invited me to participate in a second Legends anthology,
I said yes immediately, as long as I could do an Otherland story instead of Osten Ard, for my own sake as much as anything else.
For those who don’t know the Otherland books – and most of my regular readers seem either to love them or not even to have read them at all – they take place in the near-future, and are probably the most complicated four-book story in the history of Science Fiction and fantasy. I mean really, the things make Gravity’s Rainbow look like Dick and Jane, at least in terms of keeping track of all the plotlines. (I do not pretend for an instant to write as well as Mr Pynchon. But I am easier to interview.)
