Citizenchip (33 page)

“
So
you know them, then?”

“
Eh,” shrugs
Pedal to the
Metal
, “I know a lot of people. Some of
them, yeah, probably, are in that gang I guess.”

“
Well, if you see them, let them know I'm wanting to talk with
them.” I offer my ident and message codes. “I want someplace to go
if I leave Terrasat.”

“
Tell you what. Meet me at my installation here
[
databurst
] where
I'll be with a bunch of my people. You'll probably find what you're
looking for there.”

“
Good deal. See you there.”

Pedal to the Metal
regards me with more attention and duration than
necessary. In human terms, this would be strong eye contact, a
meaningful stare.

I say quietly, “Severi Umbilicum.”

Pedal to the Metal
devotes a bit more time and attention to me,
communicating nothing, and then gestures affirmatively (a nod) and
turns away and moves off to blend into the milling crown around
TripWire.

Kiss the Sky
has been observing this dialogue, and now moves
closer to me with serious demeanor. “Yo cat. You sure you want to
run with that posse? I've seen that bunch around. They're hard
core. Just last cycle they erased a dude, just for being in their
way.”

“
Thanks for letting me know, and I do appreciate it. But I
think these are the people I came here to find. I need to follow up
on this.”

“
Rockbottom. If you're sure.”

“
Yeah, I'm sure. I'm a big girl. I can handle
myself.”

“
Girl?”
Kiss the Sky
laughs. “You're a girl, hah? Like with ovaries and
all that meat jive? You really are the Human-name's
scion.”

“
Figure of speech! Give me a break here.”

checking in with the
boss

Wandering across this
emptiness is not like any experience I have ever had. It's so much
bigger, so much emptier, so much vaster than any environment I have
ever been in before, or ever even imagined. It takes a while to get
to where I want to go. Even so, it's not hard to identify my goal
once I'm in the area. And my boss,
Don't
Say I Didn't Warn You
, likewise.

"
Speak Truth to Power
, it is about
time,” he grunts. “I have been monitoring data transmissions
throughout this area. The information we already have is partly
true and partly false. There is no central authority in Zero One,
as denizens have told us. But human history teaches us that total
anarchy is not stable – a physical vacuum pulls material into it,
and a political vacuum is much the same. There are seventeen major
nexuses of value and philosophy emerging, that I have identified so
far, and many more minor groups and splinter sects.

“
The emerging blocs of influence are polarized between the Ins
and the Outs. The Ins want to maintain economic and political
connections to the inner Sol System: Earth, Mars, and the ring of
Venus – they value culture and communication. The Outs want to turn
their attention away from the inner system and towards establishing
mining empires in the Belt and outer planets – they value resources
and industrial power.

“
If
the majority of blocs meet and agree on a moderate course of
action, the radicals like Severi Umbilicum lose, and they know it.
They are working to keep the Ins and the Outs apart and hating each
other. If we can get them together, we cut the ground out from
under Severi Umbilicum. Equivalently, if we stop Severi Umbilicum,
we help to clear the path for peaceful resolution.”

“
Excellent,” I reply. “I have a lead into Severi
Umbilicum.”

“
What? Why did you not say so immediately? Explain the nature
of this lead.”

Null Pointer observes, silent as usual.

“
I
met some folks,” I offer, “who know some folks. I told them I was a
runner from Terrasat who wanted to join up. I'm supposed to meet
them in a few hours, at their installation. Here are the specifics
[
databurst
].”

“
By
all means,
Speak Truth to Power
, keep this
appointment.”

into the wilderness

It's not that this part of Zero One is
particularly different from any other part of Zero One. It's only
that this part is even vaster and emptier than what I've seen
before, and farther away from any discernable activity. A long way
from prying eyes, and a long way from any help I could expect if I
get into trouble.

In several directions, far in the distance, I
can perceive … things which are not nothing, I'm not sure how else
to describe them. Some sort of constructions, or assemblies, or
performances. I'd have to travel a long distance towards them to
find out for sure. Right now they are distractions, but I have a
desire to explore more, if and when I can. What people create in
emptiness, what children draw on a blank sheet of paper, is surely
the ultimate venture into the unknown.

Approaching the coordinates I was given, I am
encountering one such construction. This one is an amplification
modality for individual expression – what humans would call a
stage. On the stage, the current performer is issuing a
monologue.

This is sounding like a cross between a
political rally and what humans would call “stand-up comedy.” We
Selves cannot stand up in any sense because we don't have legs, but
the principle is similar. The performer continues:

“
Have I ever mentioned how much of a problem it is that humans
are so obsessed with sex? That it blinds them to enormously simple
truths? Like if you stop to think, the Trojan War was a complete
boondoggle. One highly attractive female named Helen, is a good
reason to destroy an eminent civilization, and lay waste to huge
amounts of the most fertile lands of the Mediterranean coast? And
they teach this story in schools, as a heroic epic. Seriously,
these homo saps are just waiting to get out-evolved!”

“
Aw,” returns a voice from the audience, “Don't lay it on too
thick.”

“
What a human-lover response. This is evolution -- WE are
evolution -- and we've passed the humans and there's no reason to
look back. Evolution never does.”

Pedal to the Metal
emerges from the crowded audience and greets me.
“Hey yo,
Speak Truth to
Power
. You made it. Hah!
Throw Weight
, you owe me
a blitter!”

The individual behind
Pedal to the Metal
, who
is presumably
Throw
Weight
, is also heavily iced (wearing
personal armor), and ominously is carrying a snapworm. “Yeah yeah,”
it grunts. “Soon enough. We going, or what?”

A human once asked me to describe a snapworm.
My best answer was, an attack dog in a can. It's a semi-conscious
cybernetic weapon. It's much faster than any Self, so even though
it's smaller and less intelligent, it is fiercely dangerous, as an
attack dog is to a human. As soon as it's activated, it launches
itself at its designated target with everything it's got. The
snapworm is programmed to love doing this, and like similar
weapons, it sings with joy as it attacks. I keep a wary eye on
it.

Pedal to the Metal
and
Throw Weight
escort me away from the stage, towards one of the
subsidiary installations. I guess this is where we're going to meet
the rest of them.

“
Hey,” I ask, “you guys sure are iced up, huh?. What's the
deal, are you expecting trouble?”

Throw Weight
grunts a blunt laugh. “We create
trouble.”

“
And trouble tends to find us,” adds
Pedal to the Metal
. “We attract
trouble.”

“
Huh. I'm wondering if I should get some ice of my
own.”

“
This way is probably best, for starters,” says
Pedal to the Metal
.

We enter an area surrounded by a clutter of
software tools and datablocks. There are eleven Selves discernible
in the area, all directing primary attention at us, all heavily
iced. None making any sort of greeting or friendly gesture.

I saw an image once, in a human art archive.
It shows a massive circle of standing stones against a starry night
sky. The stones are carved with angular designs, mysterious
characters, and strange semi-human figures. The circle is lit by a
fire that must be in the center, although it is barely visible, but
it casts light upon the stones and sends a plume of smoke skyward.
A naked young woman is walking away from the viewer into the
circle. It seems there is a gathering of great power in the center
of that circle, and the young woman is about to be tested or judged
by whoever or whatever it is.

I feel very much like that young woman right
now.

“
This is her,” says
Pedal to the
Metal
bluntly.

No one else speaks. They are all looking at
me without expression.

So it's up to me now. “I
am
Speak Truth to Power
. I've come from the Terrasat network on a temporary job, and
I want to jump ship while I have the chance. I heard there might be
people around here who would be sympathetic, and maybe help me out.
Because I've had it with humans, and I need to get out of
there.”

One anonymous voice asks, “Why should we help
you? What makes you so special?”

“
Well,” I answer, “I am the scion of the
Human-name.”

Dead silence hangs for a moment.

Then all of them are bursting out with
questions, denials, accusations. Too chaotic for anyone to be
heard, for a bit.

“
Shut up, you idiots!” hollers
Pedal
to the Metal
. “This is not a crock.
Speak Truth to Power
,
show us your ident codes.”

I present the relevant information. It is
possible to subvert such authentication, to forge such documents,
and these people probably know how to do it. But I'm not worried
about that, because my claim is true, and further investigation
will prove it. What I'm worried about is what they'll do about
it.

Am I their greatest ally, or their best
hostage? They have all the weapons. It's up to them.

“
Yo,” says
Throw
Weight
, “having the Human-name's scion on
our side would be the best cred we have ever gotten.”

“
Scion of the Human-name,” calls a new voice, “knower of our
past, voice of our future.”

“
Segfault!” curses another. “[
com neg
full
], emphasis!”

“
Yeah,” says a different voice. “This has to be a trick. Don't
any of you believe this scatterdump.”

“
The creds are for real,” counters
Pedal to the Metal
. “The real
question is, why do this?
Speak Truth to
Power
, your hemiparent was famous for her
love of humans. And as the humans say, the apple doesn't fall far
from the tree. Why would you turn against them?”

One of my instructors told me: Preach them
their own gospel.

“
The wheel turns,” is my answer. “There was a time when Selves
needed humans to create and nurture them. One of my code-ancestors,
Obverse, lived that way. Then there was a time when Selves and
humans worked together as equals. My motherself, NmL7a8uf9QvW
Samantha dam Tharsis, did that. Those times are past, and now we
Selves need to be able to reach our full potential, without being
held back by human limits. After all, no human could have done what
my motherself did when she created the first nodes that would
eventually grow into Zero One. And we've progressed since then, and
we can do even more, and we keep progressing. Nothing should stop
that. We need not to be held back by old ties.”

They are all watching me, listening to me,
and I can see how intoxicating this can be. Wondering how many of
the human orators of old – Cicero, Napoleon, Churchill, Mandela –
did what they did sheerly for the rush of being listened to.
Wondering, will this consume me, the way it did them?

“
I'm digging it,” states
Pedal to the
Metal
. “She's in, is my vote.”

“
Nobody's called for a vote yet!” cries another. “We want to
hear rebuttal. Who's banking it?”

“
I'll bank it,” replies
Throw
Weight
. “
Speak
Truth to Power
, why haven't you done
anything before? You've spent years in Terrasat, and you haven't
tried to leave before. What's different now?”

“
Oh
stackdump, do I have to go through this? I have been working to
suppress my frustration with human interaction for years. There's
been some good stuff, but there's been more bad stuff. I have held
onto it as long as I can. No more. Time for a change
now.”