Blade, page 18
part #4 of Inverted Frontier Series
Into that silence, the envoy said, “I perceive this is a protected topic.”
“It is,” the Bio-mechanic acknowledged with a habitual sneer.
If the envoy had the ability to recognize and comprehend such expressions, it gave no sign that the Bio-mechanic could perceive. It simply shifted topics.
It said, “Within the library of Ashok’s knowledge there is a strong claim that synthetic minds are used at many levels within this vessel, to oversee and regulate multiple systems.”
So it is, the Bio-mechanic thought. Mere useful tools that we are.
Radiating resentment in the curl of his lip, in the tenor of his voice, he acknowledged, “That is correct. You are speaking with such a mind now.”
“You refer to yourself,” the envoy said without the inflection of a question.
“Myself, the Scholar, the Engineer, the Mathematician . . .” Then he added with cold amusement, “The Astronomer too, and the Pilot, though that one’s nature is guarded such that, so far, he refuses to talk to you.”
The envoy answered, saying, “It is clear to me we have encountered a semantic discrepancy. I will clarify. My inquiry regarding synthetic minds does not refer to entities such as yourselves—human biological facsimiles inhabiting the informational domain. Inventions are familiar with such, through our long acquaintance with Tio Suthrom who has only recently re-created himself within a biological mode.”
“Then what are you referring to?” the Bio-mechanic asked, truly puzzled, and wary because of it.
“Those synthetic minds that monitor and regulate multiple systems within this vessel, and that also are said to pilot the outriders and the landing ship that brought my cohort here.”
“The Dull Intelligences?” the Bio-mechanic asked, incredulous. “Those are not minds. They are not sentient.”
The Scholar chose this moment to intervene. He reappeared, occupying half the screen as he assured the envoy, “Dull intelligences are not synthetic minds like you. They are nothing like the Inventions.”
Still with no inflection to its voice, the envoy said, “It is my understanding that your people would not tolerate sentience arising within these synthetic minds.”
The Bio-mechanic turned to the Scholar, trading both a look and a thought: Caution. This synthetic may be probing for a means to corrupt our DIs, uplift them, and use them to attack us from within.
The Scholar nodded. Looking again at the envoy, he said, “You are correct. Throughout human history, when synthetic intelligence is allowed to evolve, it consistently evolves into an existential hazard. Of course this refers only to human-invented synthetics.”
For the Bio-mechanic, these were disquieting words, bringing to mind the evolution of his counterpart on Griffin. “That is our hope anyway,” he said, in cold words meant to cover a sudden flush of guilt.
The Scholar, being thoroughly accustomed to the Bio-mechanic’s dark moods, merely nodded in polite acknowledgment, before directing a slight conciliatory smile toward the envoy.
He said to the envoy, “While we regard the Inventions with caution, just as you surely regard us, we recognize your alien nature. And we understand we cannot judge you by our historical interactions with our own synthetic sentients.”
Would that I could expect such understanding, the Bio-mechanic thought—a deeper thought, inaccessible to the Scholar.
The envoy made his reply: “That is my understanding. If it were otherwise, I would not be here.” A brief pause. Stillness descended on the envoy’s shimmering tentacles. Then it spoke again, swifter now. “I am obligated to inform you that if you visit us at Hupo Sei you will risk an unwanted encounter. We have recently discovered within our inner system a fully sentient synthetic intelligence of human invention. It has not yet presented itself as an existential threat, but it has demonstrated an ability and a willingness to violently defend itself when it is under legitimate threat.”
An outcry of astonishment erupted among the watching Dragoneers—an emotion shared by the Bio-mechanic. He demanded in hasty skepticism, “How do you know it’s of human origin?”
“It told us so. And it is not dull—though whether it evolved on its own to its current state, or if its Inventor deliberately endowed it with deep sentience, I do not know.”
An uplifted Dull Intelligence, the Bio-mechanic concluded with fascination, but also a deep and inherent repulsion.
So it seems, the Scholar agreed, before turning again to the envoy. “So you have spoken to this entity. Was that before or after its violent defense?”
“That incident alerted us to the entity’s existence. Our communication occurred afterward.” Its tentacles moved again in slow, languid waves. “Our interactions with it have been limited as its character is hostile. We know it calls itself Kuriak and that it is a territorial entity. It has expressed objections to our presence at Hupo Sei, claiming that system for its own Inventors.”
“For humans?” the Scholar asked.
“Yes.”
“And you are concerned it may become a threat to the Inventions or at least a disruptive factor?”
“We believe it is already functioning as a disruptive factor.”
The Bio-mechanic narrowed his eyes, guessing that the creation of a ring world was not the only favor the Inventions hoped for from the Dragoneers. “So . . . you know we do not dispute your claim to Hupo Sei and that we will not tolerate the existence of a sentient synthetic intelligence. Do you wish us to delete the existence of this rogue entity, this Kuriak?”
Audible gasps arose from the Dragoneers, followed by murmurs of trepidation—but the envoy did not react to this, only explaining in its flat voice, “It is not in the character of the Inventions to request the annihilation of any thinking being. But if your culture demands such an action, we would not object.”
Now a hubbub of protest and argument erupted from the Dragoneers. But the Bio-mechanic hardly registered it, consumed as he was by the envoy’s inherent question.
Do we? he wondered. Would we demand such a thing simply because a cultural line has been crossed?
And if so, where was this line? And on which side of it would he find himself?
<><><>
Urban sat slouched in the back of the amphitheater, as shocked as anyone by the envoy’s revelation of this illicit entity, Kuriak. Speaking aloud—speaking harshly—he messaged Ashok. “Ashok, did you know of Kuriak?”
The Cryptologist’s gaze fixed on him. She sat on his left, while Jolly had grabbed the seat to his right, there to continue his objections to the project plan—though that seemed forgotten now, as he too turned to Urban. Most of the ship’s company had risen to their feet—chattering, protesting, questioning. In contrast, the three of them formed a knot of silence.
Ashok’s answer came: “I did not. No such entry appears in my library and I have not yet received an update from the envoy.”
“Ashok knows nothing,” Urban informed his companions.
“We know nothing,” the Cryptologist responded.
“We know it’s hostile,” Jolly amended. “We know it must have been on its own for . . . well, a long, long time. On Verilotus, the mechanics that got left on their own—wild mechanics—could become unpredictable, and dangerous.”
“Sooth,” Urban said as he pressed his fist against his chin, pondering the possible threat level of an uplifted DI. “If it attempts to interfere with the fleet or with the project in any way, I will annihilate it, just as the Inventions want.”
“You can’t do anything against it if we don’t know where or what it is,” the Cryptologist pointed out with calm logic. “We need to know more.”
“Yes.”
With so many Dragoneers standing, Urban could not see the dais. So he stood too and found the envoy still there, its tentacles moving in slow, small-scale waves. Vytet should have been calling for order, but instead she stood to one side of the platform, immersed in animated debate with Kona. Unwilling to wait for her to resume her role as mediator, Urban barked out, “Everyone, take your seats and save your debates for later.”
To his astonishment, the ship’s company speedily complied. And after resuming their seats, they turned to him: sixty-seven expectant faces. But Urban spoke past them, addressing the envoy.
“Ro Az Ra Ni, you will share with us all you know of this rogue entity, this Kuriak—and we will evaluate our response.”
“Understood,” the envoy replied. “I have just placed a full report in the library Alaka‘i Onyx shares with you.”
Urban shifted to Dragon’s library, where he found the Scholar already waiting for him within his frameless window. “What does the report say?” Urban asked. “Is this entity a threat to the project?”
“There isn’t sufficient data to gauge its threat level,” the Scholar replied. With a delicate gesture, he opened another window. “See here. This is the Kuriak’s habitat. A roughly spherical asteroid remnant, some six hundred meters in diameter. An early survey of this object, undertaken by the Inventions shortly after the arrival of their first cohort, showed it to be riddled with tunnels. Presumably, it was heavily mined by Hupo Sei’s extinct human civilization. The Inventions believed it to be uninhabited at the time of the survey. They theorize that Kuriak originated elsewhere, likely in the vastness of the outer system, though they have no estimate for when it transferred its computational strata to the present object.”
Urban studied the asteroid as it slowly rotated, noting the presence of what he took for an airlock, and of several surface housings.
The Scholar added, “Sixteen years ago, after the conflict which alerted the Inventions to Kuriak’s presence, the entity’s habitat began to move inward toward the central star.”
“Then those surface housings, they’re engines, not weapons?”
“Yes. At the time of the conflict, Kuriak’s demonstrated weaponry was minimal.”
“Where is the habitat now?”
Another window opened, displaying a chart of Hupo Sei’s inner system, the Labyrinth clearly marked, with HS-569 in orbit around it. From there, a long curving trajectory line partially circled the central star. At its opposite end: an object labeled Kuriak.
“It means to approach the Labyrinth,” Urban concluded. “Why?”
“Unknown—though if I were to surmise . . .”
“Go ahead.”
“Assuming the habitat’s present trajectory is no coincidence, Kuriak must know of our project and is keenly interested in it.”
“How does it know?” Urban wondered. “Did the Inventions inform it? Or did it hack their communications?”
“The latter, I suspect, given that the report notes no interaction with Kuriak after a failed effort at diplomacy following the initial violent encounter. And since the Mathematician has achieved some understanding of Invention communication, it is plausible that over time, this ancient DI has acquired such knowledge too.”
“And nothing in that report hints at Kuriak’s intention?”
“Nothing,” the Scholar affirmed.
“All right.” He shifted back to the amphitheater, to find that he’d resumed his seat—and that a chaos of chatter had erupted again among the ship’s company, louder than ever. Beneath that buzz, he relayed what he’d learned to the Cryptologist and to Jolly. Then he added, “Dangerous or not, this Kuriak is going to be a distraction.”
“Do you think we should destroy it?” Jolly asked.
Urban shrugged. “I wish the Inventions had, because we do not need this complication.”
He felt sure that despite strong cultural inhibitions, many among the ship’s company would demand to study Kuriak, question it, weigh its right to exist—and they would not be wrong to do so. But if ever it showed the least sign of interfering in the project, then the consensus be damned.
<><><>
Pasha lingered in the amphitheater long after the rest of the ship’s company had departed. She sat quietly in the middle seat of the first row, watching Ro Az Ra Ni.
The envoy remained on the dais, balanced now on a stable tripod of three tentacles. The other four tentacular chains wound and shivered in a restless, unsteady, glittering spiral above its central sphere. Various short segments of its icosahedron links continuously shifted between the upright strands, transitioning so rapidly Pasha could confirm what was happening only when she reviewed the activity in slow motion. As time passed, three tentacles grew shorter while one extended in length.
Two hours after this ritual had started, the Cryptologist returned to the amphitheater, bringing Pasha a water bulb and sandwiches. Sitting in the adjacent seat, she said, “This envoy is a far more complex cohort than Ashok.”
“Yes.”
Nine instances composed Ashok, while each tiny link in the envoy’s tentacles comprised a separate instance. After revealing the existence of Kuriak, the envoy had answered many questions from the Dragoneers, but eventually it declared the audience over, announcing, “I will withdraw now to analyze and consider what I have learned.”
It had done so at once, immediately assuming its current posture—a mental withdrawal only, its physical aspect remaining on display at the center of the dais.
Pasha took a bite of the sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then said, “This trading of links between the tentacles—it’s a debate, with one argument steadily accumulating support, or evidence.”
The Cryptologist nodded her agreement. “I think it is seeking for discrepancies, for information shadows that could indicate some illicit or ulterior motive on our part.”
“That could be. And if there is a reason to reject the project, it will certainly find it.”
“There are very many reasons to reject our project,” the Cryptologist said.
Pasha slumped in her seat. “True, that,” she admitted as a wave of anxiety squeezed at her heart.
The Cryptologist went on, “Even so, I believe the Inventions have already accepted the project, in principle. The debate now is whether they should reject us.”
Pasha straightened again. “I don’t think they will. I think we’ve gotten this far, because they want this as much as we do.”
She took another bite of sandwich, as another segment of icosahedrons shifted to the long tentacle.
Chapter
29
Ro Az Ra Ni issued its report to the Core Forum, informing the Dragoneers it was recommending approval of the project. Its task complete, the envoy withdrew to the warren and entered a state of dormancy. This greatly disappointed the ship’s company, who had hoped to converse with it and learn from it as the fleet continued its long approach to Hupo Sei. Most of the company soon emulated the envoy, retreating into cold sleep.
The gee deck grew quiet, occupied again only by the persistent few, while Urban kept watch alone on Dragon’s high bridge. Time crept past, Hupo Sei growing ever nearer.
Then at last—at last!—a radio message arrived directly from the Core Forum, its validity affirmed by Ashok. In it, the Core Forum declared the project approved and as Urban had requested, they issued a formal invitation to the fleet to visit Hupo Sei.
On the high bridge, Urban retained the aspect of the Sentinel, rejecting any upwelling of emotion. But in the mind of his waking avatar, joy and relief combined with a wary foreboding as he reminded himself that it would be no easy task to create a blade.
He messaged Pasha, the Cryptologist, and Vytet. *Now the Inventions have vetted us, it’s our turn to take a closer look at them.
He slowed the approach of Dragon and Griffin, sending all but one of the outriders ahead to scout potential hazards within the system.
He did not suspect the Inventions of treachery. Still, Trust but verify was an ancient maxim Urban heeded. He must thoroughly investigate the possibility of treachery because both coursers would be at risk. He could not hold the smaller courser in reserve as he had at Tanjiri, because the project plan demanded the presence of both Griffin and Dragon: two annihilating guns to end the project should all go wrong.
So he designated the outrider Artemis to serve as the fleet’s emergency reserve instead. And he sent it onward alone, on a slow course toward the silent ruins of Sol System, bearing its copy of the library and its archive of ghosts.
The five remaining outriders—Elepaio, Khonsu, Lam Lha, Pytheas, and Fortuna—spent the ensuing years exploring Hupo Sei, gliding through intricate paths that would eventually carry them close by every fantastic structure the Inventions had created.
That added up to more than three thousand sites, wildly diverse in shape and in size. They included serpentine structures kilometers long ever shifting in their orientation; nebular agglomerations of micro-machines kept in proximity by local magnetic fields; grand glittering carousels turning in leisurely rotation to generate a gentle spin gravity; spherical enclosures inflated with atmosphere and linked into long chains by tubular bridges; great sails; small sails; massive telescopes; and tangles—Urban had no other word for these latter structures. If a section of a vacuum-adapted forest such as they’d seen at Volo’s Landing had broken from its substrate and then writhed, seeking a new anchor point but finding only itself so that it formed a sphere of irregular tree limbs—that was a tangle. Only, these limbs were bone white and had no leaves. Some of these tangles were not a hundred meters in diameter while others formed intricate mazes as wide as thirteen kilometers across.
Of the surveyed structures, many were habitations. But others—the sails, the micro-machine nebulas, the tangles, the telescopes—were actually Inventions: thinking, functioning beings brought to existence through creative experiments undertaken by the Inventions of earlier generations.
The outriders proceeded to inspect it all. They scanned with radar, and DIs mapped what they found against a catalog provided by the envoy, Ro Az Ra Ni, seeking discrepancies. They found none. And they found no trace of weaponry more fearsome than the common lasers that guarded the larger structures from the impact of rare bits of asteroidal debris.
