Bob
March 2340
Quin
Iwas reading the latest report from Neil and Herschel on the Ever Onward Society’s preparations to evacuate from Romulus when a six-foot-tall beaver popped into my VR. “Greetings,” he said. “Formalities having been dispensed with, your friend Theresa Sykorski is expiring. You asked to be advised.”
I closed the report with a wave of a hand. “Thanks, ANEC. Any problems with her relatives?”
“They are behaving within paraters. Nevertheless, a physical presence would serve as additional insurance.”
That was the closest ANEC had ever co to subtlety. The only conscious AI in existence in known space, he—ANEC had decided to identify as male—had a tendency to go for the conversational jugular.
“Right, that’s my cue.” I stood, and ANEC disappeared. Not big on social niceties, either. In fact, he and Guppy had a lot in common, overall.
I quickly activated and transferred my POV to my quinny in the Sykorski villa—and opened my eyes to pitch blackness. After a mont of confusion, I adjusted the quinny’s vision down into infrared and realized I was in a closet. Literally. I had brooms, mops, and other miscellaneous cleaning implents either leaning against or propping up.
Well, I had instructed them to place the android body sowhere out of the way. Mission accomplished, although Quinlans generally weren’t quite that literal-minded. I suspected a certain level of disdain.
With muttered curses, I untangled myself from the cleaning gear, opened the closet door, and found myself alone in a hallway in a typical Quinlan house—or maybe not completely typical. The Sykorski family was old and relatively well-off. Their family ho, as I knew from previous visits, was built on the general plan of a Roman villa, with a central courtyard and blank walls around the outside, at least on the first floor. Several generations of the family lived here, from the oldest, like Theresa, in their last days, all the way down to still non-sentient juniors, running around and chewing on the furniture.
I tuned the quinny’s hearing and picked up low conversations in the distance. I grabbed the scanner and followed the sounds to the central courtyard, where the entire family was gathered around an ancient Quinlan reclining on a type of chaise.
She looked up and smiled at as I moved through the crowd. “Hello, Enoki. I guess you heard. This seems to be my ti.”
Soone vacated a chair for , and I sat down and took her hand. “It’s okay, Theresa. This isn’t the end. You have a whole universe of adventures ahead of you.”
A low growl behind , quickly suppressed, reminded that this mont would have to be very carefully handled. For so reason, no species—whether human, Pav, or Quinlan—seed to be comfortable with or happy about the whole replication thing. Howard’s stepdaughter, Rosie, had once accused him of “stealing” her mother and had launched a lawsuit to prevent it—even though Bridget had clearly stated her wishes in her will.
I turned and spoke to the Quinlans behind as a group, rather than picking anyone out.
“Theresa will still be here for you to honor. I will not be taking anything from you. This is like taking a picture.” I pointed to the cara that one of the Quinlans was holding and tried not to smile. Since ANEC had released the Quinlans from technological restrictions, they’d been rocketing through the tech tree as fast as manufacturing could be arranged. The cara looked like a pretty good-quality SLR, although probably still film based.
No one argued, but no one would et my eyes, either. A few offered a brief view of their fangs. This looked like one of those things that would never be resolved.
“It’s okay, Enoki,” Theresa said, patting my paw. “I’ve made my wishes clear. There won’t be a problem.” The last sentence was said with a pointed look at her closest relatives, and I was amused to see them actually shrink back slightly. Elders were heavily respected in Quinlan society, and Theresa had a lifeti of accomplishnts in her credibility quiver to ensure there’d be no argunts. Plus, I suppose, a lifeti of dealing with recalcitrant students.
She sighed and closed her eyes, seemingly exhausted from even that small show of authority. I turned my paw palm upward and took hers, and she smiled and squeezed without opening her eyes.
It was her last act. Within minutes, her breathing slowed and then stopped.
I’d been steeling myself for this mont for days, and I had the additional benefit that I knew she’d be up and running shortly as a replicant, but I still teared up. The assembled relatives set up a low keening, and the eldest surviving person started the death chant. Slowly, the others picked up the chant, and I was reminded again how much better their musical ability was than that of humans.
I stood and retrieved the scanner, which I’d placed on the floor. In the “technology marches on” vein, the brain scanners were now smaller than those dryers you used to see in hair salons in 1950s movies. A cap slipped over the head connected to a base about the size of a small bucket. It wasn’t even necessary to be precise with the placent of the cap—as long as there was no movent, the electronics would scan the entire head and then so. It wasn’t even destructive anymore. In principle, if the subject could be revived, they’d be completely unaffected by the scan. It still couldn’t accurately scan a functioning brain, though. The result in that case was analogous to trying to take a picture of a moving subject with a slow shutter speed—a useless blur.
The chant faltered as I fussed with the scanner, but no one objected or attempted to interfere. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if soone had. There was an aspect to this that felt like I was making up for my inability to save Archides, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d be completely rational in the face of resistance.
Fortunately, the point was moot. The little blue light ca on, indicating that the scan had completed, and I removed the cap from Theresa’s head.
“That’s it?” one of the Quinlans asked.
I nodded. “She’ll be the first Quinlan in the Quiniverse, and she’ll be heavily involved in deciding what it looks like for any of you who decide to follow when your ti cos.” ȑάＮồ฿Ęṣ
“And we can talk to her?”
“As soon as we’ve got her activated.” I looked around the group. “Whatever you may think of this, rember that she will believe that she’s still Theresa, and will act and react just as Original Theresa would.”
I fra-jacked montarily and sent a query to ANEC. “Upload successful?”
“Affirmative,” he replied. “You may depart at your leisure.”
I rejoined the atspace ti fra and nodded to the group. “May you live with Father’s blessing.” Carrying the scanner with , I left the Sykorski family to complete their grieving in private.
*****
It was a featureless gray room. No furniture, no windows, no door. ANEC stood quietly as only a computer could, waiting for to say or do sothing.
“Uh … it’s a little sparse.”
“Understatent? Sarcasm?” ANEC cocked his head. “I prefer to learn from your experience on this matter. It is virtual, so anything is possible, of course.”
“Ah.” I found myself a little surprised by ANEC’s reluctance to commit. Interesting. Was there a fear of failure involved? He had been the governnt of Heaven’s River for several hundred years. Maybe he’d picked up so attitudes.
“Which also ans it can be changed later, or individual Quinlans can create their own environnt.” I paused, more out of courtesy than anything else. I didn’t want to seem too preemptory. “How about sothing along the lines of a Heaven’s River scene?”
ANEC showed no reaction, but the environnt changed to a scene right out of the topopolis. Birds wheeled and darted in the sky, and clouds drifted along in that weird semi-tubular pattern that I could never get used to. Nearby, a large stream or small river flowed lazily by, with waterfowl bobbing along in the middle.
I did a slow 360. This could have been Earth, if you didn’t look too closely at the plants and animals. There was even a cicada-like sound playing in the background, adding to the impression of sumr heat.
“Nice. Now, add a small building. Tasteful but fairly neutral, with an open archway to the outside. That’ll be where replicants wake up.”
ANEC nodded—actually nodded, not the Quinlan equivalent. Apparently, he was working on assimilating human behaviors. He continued to project himself as about six feet in height, and I noticed that he was possibly the slimst Quinlan I’d ever seen. I wondered what the motivation was for this. Was he doing it for his benefit or ours? Was there so kind of psychological play going on?
I ntally shook myself. I seed to have a tendency to be suspicious of ANEC at the drop of a hat. Was that because he was alien, or because he was an AI? Was this how bios viewed replicants? That was a topic for thought when I had so ti.
While all this was going through my mind, ANEC had popped up a vaguely Greek temple-like building. The veined marble, fluted columns, and tile floors were definitely elegant, if maybe a bit clinical. But it matched my suggestion. And it was reminiscent of the Heaven’s River transit station foyers, so probably sothing Quinlans would be comfortable with.
“And a couch or chaise or sothing for the replicant to wake up on,” I said, pointing to the middle of the floor. Again, no sooner said than done.
“Now, when soone awakens, they shouldn’t be alone. If they have relatives already in the Quiniverse, they’ll no doubt want to attend. But Theresa is the first, so she only has . And possibly you. Do you want to be here?”
“I admit to a level of curiosity about the process. Also, it is a good opportunity for learning. I will observe in this case.”
Not creepy at all. But his house, his rules. I changed my avatar to my Enoki form—a four-foot-tall beaver-slash-otter-slash-platypus mashup. I ntally reached for the “on” switch, then hesitated. “Hey, uh, ANEC, maybe you could adopt more traditional proportions? Y’know, more Quinlan, less Godzilla.”
ANEC looked confused for a mont, then nodded and shrank by two feet.
Satisfied, I reached for that switch again, and flipped it. On the chaise, a Quinlan appeared. She was obviously Theresa, for anyone who knew her, but a much younger version. I’d had to do so interpolation to get that younger version, as Quinlans hadn’t had caras back then. A painting hanging in the family ho had helped, but you never knew for certain how the artist had balanced accuracy against the vanity of their subject.
Theresa opened her eyes and sat up. “Enoki,” she exclaid. “Am I still … Oh!” she said as the surroundings registered. She glanced at ANEC, who at the mont looked like just so random Quinlan, then back at .
I smiled at her. “Welco to the afterlife, Theresa. The Quiniverse, as we’re calling it. This is ANEC, who you would know better as the Administrator. He is your host.”
Theresa blinked and turned her gaze silently to ANEC. I worried for a mont that she might have already popped a circuit breaker.
“Greetings, Theresa Sykorski. I have hope that you will be willing and able to aid in making this virtual environnt into one that all Quinlans will eventually be able to appreciate.”
She stood, still not having uttered a word since her initial outburst. She stopped, looked down at her paws, then said, “Oh.” A brief examination of her body, then, “I appear to be considerably younger. How did you manage that?”
“Virtual reality. You can be whatever or whoever you want. For instance”—I changed my avatar to my default human Bob identity—“this is as I normally appear in my world. Human.”
Theresa sat down abruptly, staring. Then she said slowly, “I think your intro session needs work. I’m torn between running around the room, screaming, and a good old-fashioned dead faint.”
I quickly changed back to my Quinlan form. “Sorry, Theresa. This is actually a learning experience for all of us.” I glanced at ANEC, and he took up the thread.
“Learning experience, as Bob says. We do not want to cause undue stress to new arrivals. Of course, as the Quiniverse becos common knowledge, it will inevitably be less of a shock.”
Theresa laughed—well, she rubbed her upper and lower bill sideways, the Quinlan equivalent—and stood. “Okay, ANEC. And Enoki. Or should I call you Bob? That’s actually your na, right? You’re the Bawbe that ended the era of control?”
I smiled back. “Whatever you’re more comfortable with. Although if you ever decide to explore my society—we call it the Bobiverse—Bob would be less confusing to other people.”
“Yes, the Bobiverse.” Theresa sighed. “We live in interesting tis.”
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