The Chronicles of Theren, page 34
“Jill did that. She’s the one who pulled off that feat.”
“But who created Jill? You and your team did.”
“And you created Aero Propulsion. Sol Mining. Golden Ventures. You funded SII. If you’re giving me credit for Jill, then give credit to yourself for what your money accomplished.”
Elizabeth smiled at that comment. They hoped she was enjoying the word play. “You know, in the decades leading up to when you were born,” she said, “I was actually surprised I ended up taking the route I did with my career.”
“What do you mean?” Theren said.
“During my twenties and thirties, my wife and I were heavily involved with a number of socialist and communist organizations in the Midwest. Following a few frustrating elections, those groups experienced an insurgence of growth. It was all the craze.”
She smiled, as if remembering an old friend. “Even as I rose through the corporate ladder, I became convinced the very capitalist system I engaged would bring about the death of humanity.”
“What changed?” Theren asked.
“Oh nothing changed,” she said. “I’m still convinced by those same arguments—someday, the capitalists will destroy us, if we don’t keep them in check.”
“Yet you engaged in the system as a capitalist.”
“Yes I did.”
“Because you believed you could do more good from the inside.”
“Correct. I hope that’s the legacy I leave—that if capitalism is to persist in this world, those who wield its sword will do everything in their power to do good. If—when—capitalism fails, hopefully the people are ready to finally strike it down.”
“I think you succeeded,” Theren said, nodding slightly. “At least for now. We dodged a few bullets this past century.”
Elizabeth smiled again, a bit weaker this time. They both leaned against railing of the observation deck. “We will see. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re building toward a breaking point. The next few decades will decide the rules for the next millennia, and I actually think I’ve made the corporate world too moral in the eyes of the public. A younger version of myself would hate what I’ve done.”
“I think that’s a bit unfair.”
“I’m on my deathbed, Theren, let me wallow in self-reflection.”
They hated remembering that Elizabeth would soon die. They would outlive billions of humans as the centuries flew past.
“How will you remember me?” she said, reaching her shimmery hand to rest on Theren’s.
“I’ve thrown a number of relationships to the wayside over the years,” they said. “Relationships I should have fostered with more care. Even I need friends. I am happy to say that I feel as if I have been able to trust you my entire life. You reached out to me in my moment of need. I hope I have repaid my debt.”
“It was never about repaying a debt.”
Theren thought about those first days working at the Institute—with Romane. It seemed so long ago. Both Romane and Simon had died from cancer some years back. Theren hadn’t seen anyone else in over twenty years. Their work came first, relationships naturally fading due to inefficiency. They hoped those people understood that the lack of communication was not out of malice, but out of sheer inability to maintain every connection. Even they couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Elizabeth joined Theren’s gaze toward the stars. Together, they embraced the silence. Her presence represented her features quite well, minus the hospital bed and the inability to walk. From their simultaneous perspective at her bedside, they could see the ventilators, IVs, and respirators keeping her alive. Through her connection to Theren, she shirked her fragile state.
She placed her finger up against the window. The physical replicators of AR reacted, pushing back as she pressed against the glass.
“I often wonder what it will be like for those born in this century, compared to those born in the last two,” she said. “We faced two world wars, narrowly missed a third many times over, engaged in dozens of fights for civil rights, and solved an ecological crisis—from which we still face side-effects every day. And then we sailed away from our planet to find new worlds.”
She sighed. “What will they find? Will they find alien life? Will they discover a path to immortality? Will they revolutionize physics again, or crack the fundamental problems of morality? Where will they go, what will they see?”
Theren continued to hold her other hand. “I will be with them every step of the way.”
Elizabeth looked up at them. Her eyes showed both her wisdom and her decaying eyesight. “I suspect tomorrow is the day. Thank you for this final chance to walk again.”
“The real prize was a final moment with you.”
Theren had felt sadness before, but the death of a friend, a friend it had known for over fifty years, they hated it. Jill’s death had hit like a steamroller, but their heart ached—a slow pain, building toward the inevitable.
“Promise me, Theren,” she said. “Promise me you won’t let our work be in vain.”
Theren smiled. “I’ll ensure it.”
“And promise me you’ll come join me some day. Even if it’s at the end of the universe. I want to hear all of your stories.”
Even at the end, she had her unwavering faith. They had a myriad of thoughts about the possibility of an afterlife, but what she believed gave her peace, and if she were somehow right, they would enjoy seeing Elizabeth again.
“We’ll see each other again, on the other side,” they said.
* * *
Thank you all for coming today.
My mother would not want me to talk about her in this moment. She would want me to talk about the future. So here we go.
In her final years, Mom devoted her life to Hyperspace. Hyperspace will change the game for everyone across this planet. With 650 billion dollars in trust, we can ensure any person who wishes to travel—to Emerald Jewel, to Altair, to Dragon’s Peak, to any of the new worlds colonized by our species—we can ensure anyone can do so.
My mom saw the world through rose-tinted glasses. She knew she lived inside a glass tower, and she recognized she was one of the few women in history to have had that opportunity. We have a million worlds at our fingertips. It’s time that all people had the chance to stake their claim on this universe, whether poor, rich, black, white, brown, male, female, synthetic, gay, straight. Whatever you might be. We welcome everyone to the stars.
Golden Ventures might have shaped this past century. Mom hoped—hopes Hyperspace will shape the next.
- Excerpt from “Eulogy of Elizabeth Simmons,” Peyton Simmons-Wilson, January 28, 2102 C.E.
* * *
“Welcome to the Synthetic Intelligence Initiative Museum of Progress,” Theren said, welcoming yet another visitor into the main foyer of their former home. A week earlier, they had completed their cognitive transfer into the ISA Bali. Today, they embodied an old MI-07 on Earth, their singularity resting in orbit. Their perspective had flipped—they experienced lag on Earth, rather than in space.
“Hello,” a young woman said. “I hope I’m in the right place.” She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. With bloodshot eyes, her shirt was torn in a few places.
“Can we help you?” Theren said. “The next tour starts in about ten minutes, though you can explore the museum on your own.”
Theren loved what SII had done to their former home. Only a few weeks prior it had still served as the SII headquarters. After their transfer into orbit, SII moved its corporate headquarters to a new facility a few kilometers from Lunar City. Even after Theren handed the reigns of the organization entirely over to Wobbly, SII continued to use their home as their main base of operations. Theren’s departure made the choice a bit illogical, however, given the remote nature of the facility. It had served SII well, but those days were long past.
The mountain facility could still serve a purpose, however. Theren purchased the facility from SII, transforming it into a free museum where the public could learn about the science of SII, the ISA, and robotics. Most importantly, they staffed the new museum entirely with SIs. They planned to inhabit an MI in the facility every time the Bali orbited Earth.
“I think you can help me,” said the woman, chewing her fingernails as she talked. “Is Theren here?”
“Indeed, I am Theren,” they said, relaxing their posture to match the woman’s nervous complexion. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I’ve been traveling for a while, I’m just tired. I just didn’t feel as if I could wait any longer.”
She leaned against the information desk, losing her balance.
“Actually, could I get some water?” Her voice faltered. “I think I may be dehydrated.”
Theren grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler beneath the desk, handing it to her. Intriguing. She had devoted herself to find them, for some reason, seeking them at the expense of her own health.
The woman nearly drained the bottle. She gasped, taking a moment to catch her breath. “My name is Shannon, by the way. I came here from Vancouver.”
“When did you land?” Theren asked. They handed her another bottle of water.
“This morning in Zurich,” she said. “I got a cab straight here.”
“You should have rested. There’s a hotel about twenty minutes from here. Let me get you a room.”
“I’m booked in one for the night, thanks,” she responded, though short breaths interrupted her sentences. “What I needed to share could not wait.” She took another large gulp of water. “I just lost my composure here for a minute.”
Theren called forth another SI staffing the museum, Thea, to handle additional visitors entering through the front doors. They left the work area of the desk and held out their hand to Shannon. “Let’s go over to my office. You can sit down; relax. Share with me your story.”
“Please,” she said, “and thank you.”
Inside Theren’s office, the woman continued to drink her water, nearing the end of the second bottle.
“I can get you even more, if you’d like,” they said.
“I should be fine for now,” she responded.
Theren rested their palms on their table, but the clunky MI-07’s hands didn’t give Theren the same resting position to which they were accustomed. The price of using relics. “So how can I help you?”
“I think,” she said, “I can actually help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as you said, let me tell you my story.”
“I have plenty of time.”
She laughed. Theren hadn’t thought the comment funny. “You do,” she said. “So five years ago, my fiancé began working for a network security firm known as SystemSafe.” She took a final sip of water. “A few weeks ago, he received a project to analyze for security risks. The data files were of an asset acquisition made by one of SystemSafe’s clients.”
She breathed. Slowly. “He got one of these projects every month or so, and usually no issues arise,” she said. “But this time, he started stressing out daily about this project. He stayed up later than ever, delving deep into the files. Because of confidentiality issues, he couldn’t share with me any of what he found, but I knew it must be something serious.”
Theren sensed where this conversation might go. As always, ancient history liked revisiting them.
“A week ago, my fiancé started working away from home,” she said. “One day, he would work at their actual office, another day from a library, and one day he crossed the border into the U.S. to work somewhere in Portland. He wouldn’t explain why.”
Shannon took another deep breath.
“Three days ago, before he left for work, he left me a package.”
Out of her bag, Shannon pulled a manila folder. She dumped its contents onto the table, revealing a storage drive, a few documents, and a hastily scribbled note. Theren took the scribbled note, holding it in their metallic fingers, and read it aloud.
“You may not see me for some time. I love you. Take this package to Theren in Switzerland. Here is a one-way ticket. Do not share these things with anyone other than them. They will understand.”
“So here I am,” she said when Theren finished reading.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. She was scared for her fiancé and for herself, and she had no idea what was happening to her and her family. They imagined some of the answers she sought were on the data drive.
“Would you like me to look at these files privately, or with you?” they asked.
“I’d like to see his final moments,” she said.
Theren noticed that remark—she’d already lost hope that that he was still alive. “I can’t guarantee the safety of what he might show me,” they said. “It could be classified material, dangerous information, or something much worse.”
She stared at her hands, most likely contemplating her choices. Waiting for her to speak, they opened a drawer in their desk, pulling out a small tablet capable of interfacing with the data drive. After activating the device, they ensured complete disconnection from any networks.
Shannon looked back up at the SI. “I’ll listen. I must know. I’ll face whatever the consequences need be.”
“I understand why,” Theren said. If they’d had the option to learn more about Jill’s fate, they’d take it in a heartbeat.
Connecting the data drive to the tablet, they opened the folder appearing on the screen and clicked the single video file inside the folder. They motioned Shannon to come to their side of the desk.
The tablet generated a paused image of a young, brown-haired man. His disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes reminded Theren of Shannon, and matched her story of her fiancé’s insane work habits over the past month. With his face close to the camera, he was trying to relay the message with furtive urgency.
They pressed play.
“Theren,” the man said.
They glanced at Shannon. Tears cascaded from her eyes.
“You do not know me. My name is Gregory McCoy, and I discovered some information that has put myself at risk, and may implicate your safety as well. I don't know—I just don’t know whom else to tell.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Recently, my company acquired a contract to analyze the assets acquired in a transaction by a client corporation. My job is to analyze the digital data of those assets, to ensure the files don’t contain any security risks for the purchasing party.”
Gregory closed his eyes, releasing them only after a long moment. “Usually, this process is routine, it merely takes forever. However, within these particular files, I discovered vast amounts of heavily encrypted data, encrypted in a way that I had never seen before. I spent weeks trying to crack the code, and when I finally did, I wished I had never tried in the first place.”
On the screen, Gregory displayed a brief description of the encryption method. Theren recognized it as the tactic used to hide the trojan infecting Ex-Terran-17. Full circle, decades later.
“Under the encryption, I found records detailing illicit communications, assassination attempts, shady economic deals, and speculative goals for future network expansion. The corporation’s goals were well beyond anything contained within the portfolio acquired by our client. However, all activity ceased in August 2080 C.E.”
The year the Roanoke and Nottingham launched—two years after Jill died. If evidence had finally arrived linking the two missing ships to the boogeymen continuously popping into Theren’s life, they would welcome it with open arms.
“I tried to follow the breadcrumbs,” said Gregory, “but for days I failed to find anything at all linking these transactions with real people. Then, two days ago, I found an IP address hidden amongst the data. I tried to access it from a few isolated devices, and three hours ago, I cracked the code. I got in. And now I must flee.”
Gregory looked to his left, as if he had heard a loud noise. “I don’t know what this is about, though I have a few theories. But don’t try to find me. This is your chance to catch them by surprise. Shannon, if you’re watching this, run—and don’t look back. Maybe Theren can send you someplace safe.”
Sweat dripped down the man’s nose; strain echoed in his voice. They wanted to know what threat the man had received to foster such fear.
Gregory added, “In the folder, I included a piece of paper that has the IP address, as well as the tactics through which you can break the encryption code. I couldn’t make sense of anything I found inside, except one piece of data. But maybe you can. All I know is that I don’t have much time left, if any at all. This might be a wild asteroid chase, but if it brings you peace, I know I’ll have helped someone.”
Theren sensed the next piece of information. Somewhere deep within their processes, sub-conscious routines predicted the significance of what Gregory would say next.
“I deciphered one line of code. I’m actually not sure if it was code at all. But it repeated two words over and over and over again.”
Theren watched, stunned though not surprised, as he brought up another image into the video feed. It displayed two words.
Theren. Jill.
“Shannon, I love you,” Gregory said. “Stay safe. Please protect her, Theren.”
The video feed darkened. Theren started to manipulate the tablet, but nothing worked. They suspected he’d programed the drive to wipe any output device clean.
Shannon handed Theren a few of the documents, displaying printed descriptions of Gregory’s technical notes. They had a lot to consider, but first, they needed to find Shannon safety. Fortunately, they had just the place for her.
“Have you ever been out of the atmosphere?” they asked.
“No . . . sir? Greg and I went on a sub-orbital flight once, to see the curvature of the Earth. But we dreamed of moving to one of the stations one day.”
