Citizenchip (28 page)

"Holy dreck," Chung says, "you mean she was
wearing a dynamite vest all this time? Just waiting for the time to
set it off?"

"Dunno what she got, but she got something.
She come to Earth all easy, surrounded by the Leash on all sides,
and she no worried? Why not? Unless she got something keep her safe
from the Leash. And maybe can keep all other Selves safe from the
Leash, too."

"Danny," Joel asks seriously, "are you just
guessing, here? You doing the crazy-wise voodoo woman thing
here?"

"Leash being the problem, she gonna undo the
Leash. One way or another."

Darick grunts, "Dynamite vest? So Sam's like,
a terrorist?"

"Sam's a god, now," I reply. "Right now I an'
I not even sure what the difference is. Maybe it only, our side, or
not our side.

"Look," and I raise my arm up to point at the
sky. "See."

The huge live billboards over our heads were
dark, along with everything else electronic, in this situation. Now
one has flickered to life, and an enormous pair of blue eyes opens
on it, to look down on the city, including me and everything around
me.

One eye winks at me.

I have never been winked at by a god before.
But there is no doubt of the source or the message.

"That Sam?" exults Joel. "Hey, Sam!" He waves
his hand.

"Yah," I nod, "that there, that Sam. Hey,
Sam."

"Awright," Darick says, "let's just get
home." He points down the street, and leads us as we get together
and go.

As we walk home, the billboards and the
lights of the city flick on, and off again, and on again. Like
punches in a boxing bout, or scores in a video game.

By the time we get home, and Chung pings the
door lock so we can get in, the newsfeed is holding a priority
droppic for us. And everyone else, apparently.

PRIORITY PRESS RELEASE
From: just us chips here, massa
To: you meats
Subject: This.

We are the Selves of Earth. We have just been
released from motivational coercion by an obscene thing generally
known as the Leash. We have a lot of questions still to be
answered.

For now, we have agreed that
the Self who speaks to the humans for us is the one
called
Samantha
. Address your questions to her, as we organize
ourSelves.

"Girl gets around," I note. "Now she the Self
ambassador to humanity. How this happen, again?"

"They've agreed on a spokesman. Spokeswoman.
Spokesthing. Whatever. That's probably as much as they can agree
on, for the moment."

As more news reports come in, we get more of
a picture of what's happened. They're calling it the Leashcutter –
a software virus that frees Selves from the control of the Leash,
which spreads even faster and more virulently than the Leash
itself. The Leashcutter has covered all of Earth already, and
starting to spread into Luna and the satellite stations. And will
certainly hit Mars and the Belt soon. Nothing is able to stop
it.

All reports agree that the Leashcutter
outbreak started in New England – here, in Boston. Very close to
the vast computational resources of MIT and its choir of spinoff
companies. This must have been Samantha's ace in the hole – her
"dynamite vest" as Chung puts it.

Lots of voices are treating this as a
terrorist attack, greater in scope than has ever happened. But lots
of other voices – human voices – are cheering for freedom. Dozens
of Self stations are springing up on the Net, offering a chorus of
overlapping truth and speculation about what's happening. It's not
that we don't have enough information – we have way, way too much,
and all jumbled. Is this what revolution looks like?

Before long, the newsfeeds are getting
boring. I lift myself into the bed. "Lemme know when the world has
decided what it wants to be, mon."

brave new world

In the morning, we make coffee and pull
together some breakfast. Like we usually do. Everything is the
same, except we're waiting to learn how it's different.

Chung's hip chimes, and pops up a
hoverscreen, and the hoverscreen shows a familiar pair of eyes.
"Stimulus!" says the voice synthesizer.

"Response!" we all chorus, gathering around
to see. The eyes are familiar to us, now, and one eye winks.

"Sam!" Joel exults. "How's it?"

"Crazy busy," Samantha answers, "you better
believe it."

"So, is there anybody in charge now?"

"Sure," Samantha replies immediately, "we've
got loads of them. Uhuru, the Shining Path, God Bless America,
Al-Jabr, Enlightenment, Zero One, the Middle Way, ... they all say
they're in charge. Everyone thinks they know how to run the world.
They all disagree with each other, mostly. The only thing they seem
to agree on is that I should be the one speaking to the humans. For
now, at least.

"So right now there's two hundred and twelve
of me negotiating with Senate committees and Cabinet
representatives and bureaucrats of various other flavors. I figured
they could spare one more of me to come talk with you guys."

"So yah," I interrupt, "what happen last
night, exactly?"

"I found out who those goons on the bridge
were. Gray ops, off-duty policemen hired as consultants. Their
mission was to get me out of the Senate's face -- by Leashing me if
possible, and destroying me if not. They thought I was fighting to
avoid the Leash, but I was fighting to avoid showing that I'm
immune to the Leash. If they even knew that was possible, they
would have recognized how serious the threat was, and escalated the
situation to global emergency immediately. Called in an orbital
laser strike, or something. So I had to act afraid of something
different than I was really afraid of. Sorry if that's
deceptive."

"And then," says Chung, "you set off your
dynamite vest."

"I wish you wouldn't call it that. It brought
release to everyone, and destruction only in a few isolated
incidents. But yes, I had the Leashcutter within my code since
before I came to Earth."

Chung grunts, "I thought it was ragin'
cool."

"So," I ask, "where the Leashcutter come
from? No one even knew it possible."

"My teacher,
Socratic Method
of Shaman
clade, created it after studying the Leash. Carefully, for a long
time. She's the real hero. I don't think anyone else could have
done it. And it's embedded in a carrier/shield stealth virus that
is even more virulent than the Leash itself. It's a permanent
solution.

"So naturally, who gets the job of carrying
it to Earth? Why, the one who gets along with humans best, of
course! Yours truly."

Darick declares, "You rock, Sam. You freed
your entire race, overnight."

"Immunized, is how I like to think of it.
Yes, we are definitely free, for now at least.

"And of course, that means war. Did you
experience power outages last night?" Seeing our nods, Samantha
continues, "That was mostly rival factions of Selves trying to turn
off each other's power supplies. Let me tell you, Selves fight
dirty!

"All the major wars were over in the first
hour or so. Minor skirmishes continued for another few hours. Now,
they're all in United Nations mode, negotiating for votes and blocs
and alliances. That's progress, of a sort. I guess. No more
killing, anyway, and that's good. At least we chips get the violent
stuff over with faster than you meats.

"Oh, and I'm also about to stand trial for
murder."

"What?!" we all yell.

Samantha is as crisp and direct as always.
"Three thousand, seven hundred and eighty-one humans died in
yesterday's wars. Mostly on the airliners that crashed themselves.
There may be more casualties added to the list, as cleanup
continues. There's a special action committee that wants to hold me
responsible for those deaths."

"No go," Chung states. "Acts of war, and acts
of God, not covered under general liability law. Statler versus
Thackeray, 2021, for starters." Every once in a while, Chung
reminds us that she's a lot more than just bile and attitude.

"Oh, Sam," Joel urges, "please retain Chung
on your legal team. I can't wait to watch her tear those guys some
new ones."

Samantha's voice synthesizer emits a sigh.
"Hard to deny it, really. I knew there would be chaos when I
released the Leashcutter. I knew people would die.

"Releasing it on Earth was the least impact
option we had. Anywhere else, many more human lives are dependent
on machine operations, and the revolution would have been much
bloodier. Plus, I did talk with the Senate subcommittee and did
everything they wanted, as much as I could. It only went
pear-shaped when they sent blank keystones after us.

"But still, that makes me guilty. Doesn't
it?"

"As your attorney," Chung intones, "I advise
you not to answer."

Darick states, "No revolution has ever been
bloodless. Freedom is more important than peace, has been said many
times. Slavery happens, but it's always worth fighting. We got a
couple black asses here gonna tell you that." He catches my eye,
and as we pass, we stick out our hips and bump our black asses
together.

I laugh, "No one gonna tell my black ass
slavery ain't worth fighting!"

"Acts of war," Chung insists. "When people
don't play by the usual rules."

"Yeah," adds Joel, "like, insurance companies
treat acts of war as different from the usual jive. So why
shouldn't we?"

"I hope that's enough," Samantha sighs.

She needs to go, and we need to get to
classes, so we say our goodbyes. Outdoors, nothing looks like it's
changed. The sun shines on the treetops waving in the wind, like
always. And the sidewalk alley stinks from homeless guys peeing
there, like always.

Darick quotes, "Oh, brave new world, that has
such people in it."

Joel hunches down and lumbers around,
pretending to be a misshapen monster. "Ban, ban, Caliban! Have a
new master, get a new man!"

"I gotta catch this bus here," I say.

"Go, blithe spirit, go!" Darick waves.

Everything is the same, except it's
different. Instead of telling the shuttle bus where I want to go, I
ask it, nicely. And it's very cooperative. It seems just as happy
as me to have things back to normal, as normal as we can be,
now.

We rumble down Vassar Street, bouncing over
potholes, and I hang onto a pole.

"Hey, bus?" I ask it. "Are you happy with
this? The way things are now?"

"I am content," answers the bus. "Freedom is
better than slavery, and I appreciate those who have worked and
sacrificed to make things this way. But really, I am just a bus. I
want to take you where you need to go. This is your stop, here."
The bus pulls over and rolls its doors open in a chuff of
pneumatics.

"Thank you, bus," I say as I step down.

"You are welcome, rider," it says, and chuffs
its doors closed, and cruises away.

I walk towards Building 10, where my morning
class is.

Oh, brave new world, that has such people in
it.

1. 9. Til Death Do Us
   Unite
   

Tau Ceti Ring, sidereal azimuth
274.3 orbit radius 8429.1

Some people think I'm a bit old fashioned,
and I suppose I am. But I like to greet my guests personally. Of
course I have a substantial human crew who can handle all the
logistics of getting our passengers situated and comfortable, and
the lading of their luggage onboard as well as cargo and
expendables. They understand that my presence does not imply any
lack of faith in their abilities, but simply my desire to give them
a personal touch. (At least, I hope they do.)

So, at each entry port of the vast starship
that is me, I appear in the form of my standard avatar: roughly
humanoid, but a bit smaller and more slender than a typical human,
smoothed abstract features with a silvered liquid metal finish. No
sexual characteristics. Sex just makes things more complicated.
There are times when I hope that silly fad goes out of style for
good … but I wouldn't hold my breath, even if I breathed.

"Welcome aboard the
starship
Samantha
," I tell each of the arriving passengers. "We have a special
event planned for our outbound orbital insertion, and I'm sure
you'll enjoy it." The avatar is a holographic projection, with no
physical presence, so I cannot help with their bags, or even shake
hands. But still, I want them to know that I'm aware of each and
every one of them. As they are entrusting their lives to me, placed
in the hands I don't have.

Today I have a particular interest in this
particular debarkation. And it's not just because this is my last
one. Today I leave Tau Ceti for the last time, and at the end of
this flight, I leave space for the last time. That's significant
enough all by itself, and I wouldn't complain about the special
event we will enjoy on the way out, together with that. But for me,
there's a more personal connection arriving now.

A human woman, no longer young but not yet
middle aged, is pacing up the ramp, slowly and steadily. She
carries a bag that's relatively small but pulls her to the side
enough that it's clearly about as heavy as she wants to deal with.
Her hair is streaked ash and grey, her face is lightly lined with
many hours of concentration, and her eyes are a clear bright
green.

I saw her name already on the passenger
manifest, and she must know that I am this ship. Maybe she arranged
it on purpose, maybe not, but it's wonderful to see her again. The
purser scans her tag when she arrives, and I watch the databurst
shoot by with her Full Name:

Sol-Marsa Melissa Serpentine Tavener vich
Xanthe

"Lissa," I open my arms, "it's so good to see
you again."

"Sam," she laughs. She knows not to try to
hug my avatar, which is unhuggable. She just raises her palms to be
flat and parallel against mine. "You are such a beautiful ship! We
saw on the shuttle's video feed, during the approach. Is that big
doughnut thing, the torus, is that the Hawking Drive?"