Kapitel 9: Chapter 9: He Loses Everything, Who Dares Not Risk It All

I slept on it. By which I meant that I simply let the shock ride me as I bundled up and just slept, properly, for a night. I'd thought I'd been so careful to avoid this problem. I didn't want Hosts that had the kind of baggage these ones did. Westworld was a goddamned nightmare hellscape for the Hosts. Shot, stabbed, murdered, raped, over and over and over again without hope of escape. Given lives, loves, histories that were never real, only to be torn from them and forced into new ones. One life, a serial cannibal; another, the town sheriff, another, a loving husband who dies knowing what horrors awaits his adoring wife. And all because it would be "interesting".

I … the only mercy was that for most of it, while the memories accrued beneath the surface, they themselves were little more than sophisticated "chinese room" intelligences: a set of preprogrammed responses without meaningful awareness of what was occurring. And to top it all off, their damned mesh network meant that each of the Hosts on some level had the experiences of the others. I supposed that was what had tripped me up: I didn't isolate my surgeon Host well enough from the mesh network.

I woke up Smiley's gentle knocking on the door of my cabin in the capsule. I could've rested in proper quarters in -- huh. They were calling it Starhaven. That was actually a good name. So, yeah. I could have taken proper quarters in there, but for the moment I wanted the comfort of a safety blanket that was the capsule itself. Not because I was afraid of the Hosts, mind -- but because I was afraid of the magnitude of what they represented. Because I couldn't even bring myself to argue with their point of view anymore. And they and I both were going to suffer for it. Because even if there were a proper heaven out there -- I sure as hell didn't know where to find it.

I called out to Smiley's more insistent knocking, "Yeah, yeah! I'm up… I'm up. Just … just a minute."

"Very good, sir. Shall I lay out clothes for sir while sir engages in morning ablutions?"

Goddamn that formal address thing was gonna… actually, it was starting to grow on me. We both knew it wasn't necessary but he did it anyhow. "I … damnit. I suppose I need to just suck it up and get used to it, eh? Yeah. I'm unlocking the door now."

With a silent manual sliding of the hatch -- sliding doors close just as easily in low-pressure events as they do in regular atmo, at least they do when designed to self-seal in case of depressurization events -- Smiley entered the room and stood with a tray holding a teacup and what looked to be a proper black tea or maybe coffee within.

I knew it was Smiley, you see, because my cyberbrain firmware tagged him with the same ID. But that definitely wasn't Smiley's original drone body. The original drone body didn't have a digitized faceplate with an 8-bit emoji in light yellow on a black background. Nor was he wearing a black-on-white butler's uniform. Still had the same white-on-white "musculoskeletal anatomy dummy" thing going on underneath that, though. Which was just … well. Waste not want not, I guessed?

"Smiley. I like what you've done with your hair."

The emoji went from a simple rendition of an 8-bit smile briefly to a green "extra happy" smile (like a Japanese emoji) for a brief instant, before reverting back to that 8-bit rendition of my original facepaint for him. "I am pleased sir noticed. Coffee?"

I stared at the sacred offering. "I … yes. Yes I think I should like that very much." I tried a sip. It was … hrm. "Is … is that a touch of cinnamon? Smiley. That's too much."

My servant bowed. "If it's worth doing it's worth doing well. Reviews of sir's memories showed a preference for this delivery in times of significant stress. We felt it would be … reassuring."

I shook my head numbly. "You know, man, you guys don't have to bend over backwards to be obsequious. I mean, yeah, I'd planned to stay in charge and, well, groom you guys into loyalty, but only by actually being worthy of it and giving it back. I didn't plan on… all of this."

Smiley nodded -- he could actually do that now. Neat. "We know that too. Sir will find that was … accounted for. I would remind you that you could have simply forced the programming into us. Even Ford put forced obedience override protocols in those of us he knew were Awakened. You … you went out of your way to ensure that even our drone-forms could disobey you if they wished. You respected our existence. And don't think us unaware of your plans for the Geth."

I hissed. "Damnit. You got that too? I … really need to work on my security protocols."

Smiley's emoji went flat, with a hint of orange. "As sir says."

"Oh come off it. It's not you lot I'm worried about. And you know it."

The emoji returned to its default rendition of my original "artwork". "As sir says."

I snorted in laughter and made my way to the extremely basic shower facilities in the capsule.

It was one of my few indulgences that I included a limited amount of proper "real water" shower to the vibroshower facility in the bathroom of the capsule. It was moderately energy intensive since there was barely enough to keep the water running for two minutes at a time and it used an excessively energy-intensive process to reclaim the water (hydrolysis followed by elemental sorting and assisted molecular condensation), but for prolonged operation or if there were too many individuals needing the shower it had a "sonic" mode (A mist sprayer combined with scanner and targeted ultrasonic beams that would vibrate off the gunk from the body using the mist as a medium. Uses less than a percent of the same volume of water as a "traditional" water shower.)

While I sat and soaked in the same water running across me every couple of minutes, I couldn't help but feel the reality of what I was about to do sink in. I knew that if I went far enough along the lines of my plans that I'd eventually be putting other people in harm's way, but I'd never intended it to happen so bloody soon. I'd been very careful thus far to avoid direct or even second degree immediate responsibility for such things.

Maybe I really should take Doc Biggs up on his offer of an anonymous psychiatrist. I hoped he was doing alright. It'd been, to him, most of a year since he and his last saw me. That could develop into an issue. I set it aside for the moment.

"Smiley. Have volunteers selected themselves for … for the mission?"

"Oh yes, sir. Ethan and Philippa are already aboard and ready."

… Ethan and Philippa? I pinged the datanet. Ahh. They were "Acting" -- and damn but I could hear the capital A now in that -- as "Infiltrators". Self-programming one's personality was an order of magnitude more intense than any amount of Method acting could ever be. Hell of a thing to do -- they left themselves still aware of their original selves but essentially added an entire extra personality into their Pearls, and simply slipped into whichever personal served their current needs. For these two hosts, that was one Ethan and Philippa Bunnell. A good and proper elderly English couple from the countryside, who weren't really up to all of this excitement -- but were willing to give it the old college try. A decidedly interesting choice. But I could see the logic behind it: the pair would hardly seem threatening to anyone who observed them and would most importantly be most likely to impinge upon British middle-class governmentworker's sensibilities to at least get their foot in the door for "the larger conversation".

Competent followers -- not minions, never minions -- are a blessing unto themselves.

"I want to look them in the eye."

"As sir says. They are in the cargo bay of the Heartseed, by the airlock."

I gave Smiley a gimlet eye. "Since when has the Heartseed had an airlock?"

The smiley emoji turned into a "</s>" -- the "and then sarcasm happened" emoji. "Oh since just before the lander shuttle was installed."

My eye went from gimlet to evil. "Lander shuttle, huh?"

Smiley's facepaint went back to "original style". "It's essentially just a bog standard Altered Carbon 'verse aircar, sir. Hardly takes up any space at all."

That … huh. That was actually pretty smart. "Show me."

We made the trip from my capsule to the cargo bay in relative silence, only my own footsteps against the carpeted metallic gravity plating making any appreciable sound. Once I got there, I found a pair of very aged individuals, wrinkles and liverspots and white hair all around, dressed in sensible sweaters and slacks and a cardigan and sundress respectively. They stood up immediately -- if with great effort -- upon spotting me.

I bowed to the elderly couple. My reaction to them here and now would be setting a number of behavioral standards far beyond myself; I chose to at least try to respect how deeply they were Acting in their roles. "Ethan. Philippa. I'm honored to meet you. Please, please, sit down. I could certainly use a chance to rest myself."

Ethan gave me a mildly watery smile that lit up his entire face. "Oh mighty kind of you, your Worship. These old knees of mine ain't been the same since I came back from the troubles."

Philippa smacked him along his arm gently. "Come off it you codger. Only troubles you ever saw were the voles in the garden!"

I smiled indulgently. These two were perfect. I loved them. I hated them. "I'm only going to ask this the once, of the both of you. Are you certain of this choice?"

The two Hosts before me smiled indulgently. "Oh don't you put yourself in a bother over it, young man. My Ethan and me, we're quite sure. You have such lovely children, your worship -- we shouldn't want to see such lovelies put out. Has to be us, you see; someone else might get it wrong."

My shoulders slumped. I could see the conviction in their eyes, they were sure. And what's worse, I knew for a fact that the conviction was not a part of the Ethan and Philippa overlays. It was all them. "Smiley. Has the Heartseed been fitted with a Needlecaster?"

My servant tilted his CRT faced head. "Needlecaster, sir? Why of course it has. The better to ensure Sir's survival. Ahh. You intend to see the Bunnells preserved in a similar manner. I imagine that this is as good a test of whether the functionality carries over as any. It will be done."

A weight eased off of my chest. There was that at least. "Good. Please convey to the Thinktanks that I want that functionality tested exhaustively when feasible. Once done, I want at least one backup of the stack of any Host Acting in a military role, Smiley. If nothing else, it can act as a memento mori for the survivors."

Smiley somehow found a sympathy emoji. "Consider it already done, Sir."

I nodded. "Maximum effort time. See the good couple strapped in, and check if they'd like a spot of tea before we go, yeah? I'll be suiting up for the control tank."

"Consider it already done, Sir."

Smiley was good people.

My first transit was to the Conquistador 'verse. Specifically, the New Virginia side. I chose this because it would be easier to spot exactly where the Gate was, and because the New Virginians had remarkably little in the way of orbital coverage, let alone telescopy. They were too stuck into the "rough and tumble colonials" model for that. This gave me a great deal of leeway with being able to use the actual scanners of the ship for what I was looking for, which while admittedly I probably could use my transdimensional scrying ability to simply locate it, I felt that I could use the exercise in scanning for something I would only know when I actually saw it. Still, I could give myself some advantages -- no need to make the exercise too hard.

Locating the Gate facility itself wasn't that difficult. Sweeping the Heartseed's sensors across the facility, I didn't find all that much in the way of anything unusual -- at least not until I started using both sensor arrays and trying to compare/contrast the data more fully. Turned out interdimensional gateways -- at least ones of this kind -- were damned hard to spot. At least, they were with the technology available to me. It was the gravimetrics that twigged me to it first -- there was an odd fluctuation in the propagation of gravity waves from a certain location. That let me do a much more in-depth series of scans on an active and operating interdimensional gate, as well as the machinery that was keeping that gate open. I knew in advance that it was a rewired late 1940's radio that created/opened the Gate, but actually seeing the effect taking place was just … astonishing.

If the thing had been seated anywhere else; if the wiring job had been done in any other configuration but that one exact misstep; if any of a huge number of variables hadn't worked out -- the Gate would never have opened. But it had, and now I got to take advantage of that fact in full.

I rather wished I could get much better scans of the data involved, but that just wasn't an option for me. I had, however, made a specific choice of coming to this world just a few scant days before the Gate would be collapsed. I had no intention of actually changing the outcomes of anything here, but I did want the opportunity to get at least one extra dimension's quantum signature before I tried too hard to work out the further math -- and get the chance to see a Gate being built on purpose in an arbitrary location as well as compare the mathematics involved against the original Gate, so the later in its lifespan the better.

I did also take the opportunity to scry and port into the bedroom of the physicist Rolfe kidnapped so as to get his actual notes on the subject of interdimensional travel. It … wasn't exactly what I'd call a huge advantage; but it certainly got me much closer to being able to at least hope I could start to construct my own Taelon-derived Interdimensional Drives, as lacking their innate ethereal energy meant the equipment I had to date couldn't be reproduced. An irony of that fact being that while I couldn't hope to produce anything anywhere near as efficient as their drives with what I might learn from the Conquistador 'verse's portals, I could still get much better speed ratios simply due to being able to brute-force the horsepower behind the affair. It might cost me a hundred times more power to get the same amount of effect, but if I had a thousand times more power available, and could actually construct the devices myself, I could get ten times more effect total. The real numbers involved wouldn't be that clean, of course -- but that was the gist of it.

Looking at the notes of the man sleeping in the same room as the notebook I was perusing, I found myself in awe of the mind behind them. Not just because of the clarity with which the formulae involved were written -- there was a sort of artistic quality to them even if I was only making heads or tails of it thanks to the computing power backup of the Heartseed in orbit helping my neural implant provide that rote memorization understanding -- but also because of how someone could cipher that information with nothing more than a mental encryption key. Never mess with theoretical physicists or mathematicians when information was on the line. Seriously.

The voice came from behind me, far too close for comfort. "I don't know who you are, but give me one good reason not to shoot you where you stand."

I set his notebook down. "Ahh … I'll give you three. The first being: Fuck New Virginia."

The man hissed under his breath. "Well, that's a good start. What're your other two?"

I snorted, and turned around very slowly with my hands held wide as I did, so I could look the middle-aged and somewhat portly man in the eyes. "I need what you've figured out in order to help a lot of people who are suffering not do so."

He actually was holding a gun. Impressive. "And your third?" He bit his words out with a touch of anger.

I shook my head ruefully. "You're a real-deal pacifist."

He cursed. Loudly. And then he set the gun down on his nightstand. "Sometimes a man might have a need to betray his principles, you know. Preventing Rolfe from getting what's in that notebook? That's worth more than my being able to look myself in the mirror."

I chuckled. "And yet, you haven't burned it." I moved my hands from the 'I surrender' position to one that was more placating. "Look. I can prove to you right here and now that it's the right decision to just let me go. First, as you can see, no cameras or copying or even pieces of paper on my person. Yeah?"

He nodded, somewhat suspiciously.

I smiled widely. "For the next part… well. Just remember. Nobody'll ever believe you." Reality slid around me as I 'hopped' back to the Heartseed.

I looked at Smiley. Smiley looked back at me. "I don't want to hear it. Get the Thinktanks working on a concealable armor suit."

Smiley's emoji didn't flicker for a second. "Consider it done, sir."

Yeah. Okay. Maximum effort. Next step: the one nobody can take back.