We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 5: Chapter 22: A Visit to the Moot Pub

Book 5: Chapter 22: A Visit to the Moot Pub

Bob

September 2342

Bobiverse

Iwas idly playing around with my VR in a down moment when I got a knock from Theresa. In the new era of security consciousness, thanks to Starfleet, people no longer just popped in, even if they were on the same subnet. A protocol had developed that had come to be referred to as knocking. Theresa, of course, had never known anything different.

I accepted the request, and she popped into my VR. Well, someone popped into my VR. She was human, hair just starting to go gray, elegant, and well dressed. I said, “I, uh ... ” or something equally stupid, and checked metadata. Confirmed as Theresa. “Um ... ” I added helpfully.

She smiled at me and twirled once. “What do you think? Anec helped me with the design. I’m not going to frighten small children, am I?”

“No, not at all.” I smiled and mentally regrouped. After our last conversation, it shouldn’t have surprised me that Theresa would be thinking ahead. Still speaking Quinlan, though. But that would only take a translator module update. And speaking of which, in Quinlan, there was an inflectional difference between common nouns, personal nouns, and classification nouns. She’d referred to ANEC as a personal name rather than an acronym. I made a note to check with him.

“You look good, Theresa. And as it happens, there’s a pub day in the Bobiverse right now, if you’d like to test it out.”

“Ah. Pub days. Beer. Anec is not a fan. He suggested self-immolation as a preferable alternative. Said I could try coffee, though.”

“Yeah, I get the impression that he believes beer is a long-running, complex practical joke that bios are all pulling on him.”

Theresa laughed. “I wonder if his avatar’s taste buds might be misconfigured. He can’t be that far off the normal Quinlan preferences.”

“Hmm. I’ll talk to him. Meanwhile ... ” I stood and held out my arm. “Ready for the grand entrance?”

Theresa smiled—a human smile, no beak being available—and took my arm. “To the Bobiverse!”

*****

There was a time, not too long ago, in fact, when the appearance of a new face would have stopped all activity. Not anymore, though. Ex-humans were now a common sight in moots and pubs, and most of the post-life arcologies had created their own virtual common areas, which were generally referred to somewhat inaccurately as moots. Apparently, some kind of cusp had been achieved, and replication had suddenly become socially acceptable or something. I made a note to ask Bill. Or maybe Howard. One or the other would have the inside skinny.

I steered us toward a long table with bench seats where a bunch of Bobs and random ex-humans were loudly discussing several different things at once, to judge from the volume. Bill was at the center of one group, venting forth on something. He glanced in my direction, did a double take, and stood with a wide grin. “Bob! And ... ” He paused to check metadata. “Theresa? Theresa Sykorski? You’re taller than Bob described you. And less hairy.”

“Furry. We have fur.” Theresa smiled back. “I am testing out my human avatar. No one has screamed and fainted, so I’m going to take that as a good sign.” A couple of Bobs scooted over on the bench, and Theresa shoehorned herself into the available space.

I raised an eyebrow and tried to look expectant but was roundly ignored. Fine. I’d stand. “So what have we butted into here?” I asked.

“Artificial habitats. Professor Gilligan—” Bill pointed to an ex-human, and I recognized him as the expert Will had consulted about the topopolis during our search for Bender. RάNOꞖÈŝ

“Steven, please,” the professor said. “The data dumps that ANEC has given us have spurred an economic explosion of sorts in real. There are at least three consortiums that I know of that have been formed to build megastructures. A good dozen companies have materialized to supply expertise or resources or project management. It’s like a new industrial revolution.”

“Wow.” I sat as a couple of the already-seated spectators either decided I was interesting enough or just got tired of me hovering. “Where?”

“Ah, well, that’s the sticking point. A megastructure requires a fair amount of raw material as well as autofactory support. Existing colonies are reluctant to commit to supplying these, as it’s not immediately obvious that there will be any long-term economic benefit. I understand that the Bobs have contractual agreements with all the early colonies that give the Bobiverse rights to as much of the system resources as they need. The requirements for the megastructure projects, however, are several orders of magnitude more than was ever anticipated. At least one colony has threatened to take the Bobiverse to court if they push it.”

Bill added with a sickly smile, “Yeah, and we’re so well thought of these days, I am sure we’d get a fair and impartial trial.” Snickers around the table indicated general agreement. Bobiverse status, never high with bios, had plunged significantly since the Starfleet debacle.

“Do you have a solution?” Theresa asked.

“Of sorts,” Steven replied. “There are many uncolonized systems. Most have either unsuitable planets or unsuitable suns. But some also have a good supply of metals in the orbiting bodies. We are fortunate that this section of the galaxy seems to be heavily biased toward Population I stars. A system with a good sun but no suitable planets would be fine as a home for one or more megastructures.”

“And how will they arrange the logistics for building in an uninhabited system?” someone asked.

“Ah.” Steven paused to collect his thoughts. “Most systems out to anywhere from fifty to a hundred light-years or so now have a SCUT station in orbit, courtesy of the Bobiverse. All of the newer ones have been constructed with full manufacturing capability. The conglomerates that I mentioned earlier intend to contract with the Bobiverse to use that capability to bootstrap up to a full megastructure construction project. Work would be done remotely; then colonists could be shipped out to the system in the normal manner.”

I frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“Wow. How long until it’s ready?”

“Five years or so. I’m trying to keep this as low-key as possible. I don’t want to get into an argument with the Asgard and Takama governments about the use of resources.”

I hesitated and frowned. “Hold on. I had a conversation with you a couple of years back where you said you were already on your way out.”

“I am, Bob. In the Nostromo, which is the first ship I built. The Nostromo is for scattering Bob seeds—AMI-controlled Heaven vessels with no other purpose than to set up in a star system and explore. This one”—he pointed to the ship—“is the Fargo. It’s going to contain colonists. Although the Bellerophon will get to Romulus before me, so this one might be used elsewhere.” He shrugged, an odd gesture in zero G.

“Are you going to physically stick with the Nostromo, Will?”

He nodded, pensive. “I don’t want to be dependent on SCUT. I’m going to be heading in a straight line, which means if any of the stations I build along the way go down, I’ll lose the connection. And ... ” Will hesitated and looked somewhat embarrassed. “Herschel’s paranoia is kinda getting to me, despite my best efforts to stay rational. If something comes along that takes out all of human space, I don’t want to be here.”

“Not wrong,” I replied. “Especially the part about being dependent on SCUT. I know a lot of Bobs are getting into the mindset where it doesn’t matter where your cube is physically located. But I think the whole Starfleet debacle refutes that stance.”

Will grunted and motioned me to follow. He flew toward the cargo vessel, and after a brief hesitation while I fumbled with the control system, I took off after him.

“So is this a social visit, or did you have something specific to bring up?”

I was momentarily taken aback by the peremptory tone, but then this was Riker. He’d softened over the years but could still be impatient with people. “I wanted to check your schedule and see if I’d be able to intercept. Either the Fargo or the Bellerophon will be collecting people from Romulus, right?”

Will turned to glance at me, a look of surprise on his face. “You still want to come? That seemed like an offhand comment last time.”

“I think I’ve gone a little off the idea of solo exploration. It just seems to get me in trouble. And honestly ... ” I glanced away for a moment. “I’ve picked up a little of that paranoia, too, I think. Although I’m more concerned about the human and replicant threat than some unknown alien force.”

“Wow, that’s interesting. I won’t argue with you, Bob. Especially about the stupid humans. Except we’re bringing some along, so there’s that.”

“From where?”

“There’s a possibility that some Asgard residents may want to come on the Fargo. You’re right that there’s a lot of tension, though. I don’t think Starfleet caused it so much as brought it out into the open, but it’s really beginning to look like humanity just brought their baggage with them.”

“Like people are threatening war?”

“Until and unless we develop FTL, I don’t think interstellar war is really a concern. But multiplanetary systems like 82 Eridani and Omicron2 Eridani are certainly good candidates. And we’ve got fascism developing on Newholme, and FAITH gaining ground on Romulus. Takama has always had an authoritarian bent. We might as well be back on Earth with the old nations.” Will finished with a grimace and an inarticulate growl that pretty much said it all.

“What about the Pav?” I asked.

“They won’t attack human worlds, I don’t think. But if a Pav colony ship and a human colony ship show up in the same system at the same time, that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

“So what’s the problem exactly?”

“We Tetris’d different groups into our colony ships in order to fill them up. That unfortunately meant planets got colonized by multiple ethnic and national groups. But by necessity, the colonies were formed with one government, and the smaller groups, of course, got underrepresented. Think Quebec, Catalan, Belarus, Ireland, Taiwan, and so on.”

I looked up and sighed. “Great. Stupid humans.” To get my mind off this increasingly depressing conversation, I examined the spectacle in front of me. We were still a good distance from the cargo vessel, but it filled my field of view like the Earth from low orbit. We were a long way from the system’s star, judging from the low light level, but the manny had excellent vision range.

It reminded me a little of the day we invaded Heaven’s River—a cylinder so large it registered more as a wall than otherwise, with almost no features. In this case, though, steady but seemingly random streams of traffic buzzed through my view. Drones, laden with parts or, in some cases, covered with roamers, alternated with empty drones heading outward. It was a scene of frenetic activity, coordinated like a kind of ballet. Of course, Will had decades of experience with the construction process after his time evacuating the Earth. Fifteen hundred trips or fifteen hundred ships. Or one ginormous cargo vessel.

I smiled to myself. I hadn’t been part of the evacuation effort or the war with the Others. But like all battles, it was doubtless more epic and grander in hindsight.

Will was speaking, and I had to rewind a few mils of dialogue to catch up.

“Honestly, Bob, I’d be happier to just continue on my own and explore in the Nostromo, but a couple of groups managed to buttonhole me. If they decide to carry through on their plan, I guess I’m committed. But I’ll drop them on the first suitable worlds that I find.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I get it. And I still want to come along.”

“You got it.”