Nothing? she asks. Not even the extinction of a species?
Network pauses for a moment. Ah, it says. Here we go.
Well, I mean, that doesn’t exactly seem like a success to me, she says. Not exactly a flawless record.
How so?
How so? she says, astounded. I have to explain to the mind of the galaxy why a species living is better than a species dying?
Please do.
Her frustration grows. Seriously? she says. You can’t come up with a system where stuff like that, I don’t know…doesn’t happen? That’s beyond you?
You have a better system in mind, do you?
Yeah, she says. That’s it, that’s the better system. A system where species don’t get exterminated. And while we’re at it, how about this sub-legal thing? I mean, this is just off the top of my head, but I’ve got a friend who—
And now Network laughs. It’s not a sound, it’s a feeling. All around her mind, she can feel its amusement. With anticipation that cannot be expressed in mere words, it says, I breathlessly await the alternative system you are preparing to propose.
I mean, I don’t have all the details—
Network laughs again. It’s true, it says. There are some improvements My galaxy-sized mind has been pondering for several million years or so. Some real conundrums, you understand, in a variety of areas. But here you are, with the solution! How wonderful! Oh, don’t make Me wait; do tell Me what your stunted pinprick of a mind has come up with.
Look, she says, with as much force as she can possibly gather. I don’t have to have an alternative to point out problems.
Well, that’s certainly true, says Network. Only if you want to, say, accomplish something useful.
She wants very badly to stay silent, but she is unable. It’s difficult when there is such a fine line between thinking and saying. I’m just saying it has to exist, she thinks.
The next blast comes complete with a set of emotions far too positive to be genuine. What insight! cries Network. What wisdom! What a powerful and concise summary of a concept I could not possibly have considered in all my half-billion years! In fact now that you mention it, I am humbled to realize that a near-infinite number of alternatives exist! Oh, how fortunate that you are here. But wait! Perhaps that’s not what you meant? No, I think perhaps what you are really saying is this: that even though the largest mind in the galaxy has built a system that has stood for more time than you can conceive of, even though in each blink of your eyes—you remember what it was like to have eyes, don’t you?—that gigantic mind has accomplished more than you could ever hope to understand, let alone appreciate, let alone accomplish yourself—
She sighs, somewhere in her virtual mind. This is, without a doubt, the most excruciating conversation she has ever been a part of. Fine, she says, finding it far easier to concede than to debate. So if I’m so flawed and you’re so perfect, then why—
Then why are you here?
Do you just…hate the ends of sentences, or what?
Your sentences, yes. More generally, I hate wasting time. More generally still, I hate time itself. But we’ll get to that.
Okay, fine, she says. Continue your awesome monologue. Say what you need to say. Blow my tiny little mind. I’ll just be here. Drifting. In this…eternal darkness, or whatever.
I have said enough. Now, I demonstrate.
Finally, some action. Demonstrate what?
This.
And then her mind explodes.
Roche is ecstatic, but you would never know it from the outside.
He stands in the quaint little android boutique, half his body currently made up of as-yet-unpurchased merchandise, his intelligence core nearly buzzing with exhilaration. He is probably actually brushing the underside of mania, which in the past has always resulted in bad decisions. But do you know what? Bring them on.
This life has stretched on far too long, he thinks.
We may not have long to wait, says a return thought from Phil, his helper intelligence. In Roche’s vision, a small highlight appears on the arboretum on the other side of the bridge. This could be the end.
A real live Human, marvels Roche, for the fiftieth time. He gazes at the arboretum as well. If we survive this adventure, I shall be sorely disappointed.
A juvenile tier three, two mis-tiered Network minds, and a Human, all on the same ship, says Phil. It’s either a wild coincidence or the setup for a joke.
Roche was just thinking the same thing himself. Of course, in more than a manner of speaking, Phil is himself. He’s a helper intelligence—or was—but over the years and the deaths he’s become integrated with Roche’s own mind. Externally, they are Roche the android, he pronouns, et cetera. Internally, well…things are a bit more complicated.
You’d better focus on the sale, says Phil. I’ll watch the arboretum.
[So you’re saying these will do eighty kilometers per hour?] Roche says, shifting his sensors from the arboretum to his own image in the reflection field next to him. His new legs are quite fetching. They’re not his, exactly, but they are currently attached to him and therefore feel like his. Internally, he thanks the last version of Roche/Phil for having the foresight to use all standard components in his current body, because the connection is frictionless.
[In a standard F environment, sure], says the proprietor of the shop, an imposing intelligence who seems to be made mostly of legs xerself. Xe has a two-dimensional screen for a face, which is currently pulling double duty as a Network display.
Roche examines the legs with every sense he possesses. These are luxury racers, their central joints folding backward from his current pair. They gleam gold and black, and his aural sensors pick up absolutely no noise as they extend and retract. They are, in a word, gorgeous. [You know], he says to the proprietor. [I was thinking of leaving legs behind entirely. I finally earned my grav license not long ago and, well, walking just doesn’t have the appeal it once did.]
[Well, sir], says the proprietor’s face, [then you’ll be glad to learn that these legs have grav attachments. Of course they are not exactly cheap, but…you seem like an android who appreciates quality.] The attached emotions are mainly variants on sincerity.
Xe’s excited, says Phil, drawing Roche’s attention to one of the proprietor’s many limbs. It trembles, just enough for Roche’s sensors to notice.
I thought you were watching the arboretum.
I am. Starting now.
[Legs with grav attachments?] Roche gasps, in apparent wonder, as if he’s never heard of such a thing, as if the attachments in question are not slowly rotating in a display case mere meters away.