We Are Legion (We Are Bob)
Book 4: Chapter 32: A Few Loose Ends

Bob

October 2334

Virt

Bridget and Steven were trudging through the foothills outside Garack’s Spine. The floating video window showed the area from Bridget’s point of view. Steven wasn’t much help, it appeared. He kept looking up, while Bridget kept looking down. I predicted a very short professional relationship. Steven was already agitating for an interview with ANEC. I smiled at the thought. Dr. Gilligan was very Bob-like in a lot of ways. He was one of the few post-Earth replicants, what Bill called ex-humans, whom I knew and wanted to stay in contact with.

Hugh had sent me some updates on their work with the Quinlan AI development template. I think he was trying to get back in my good graces. Time would tell. The unilateral deal with ANEC had touched a nerve with the Bobiverse, especially with Hugh’s frequent reiteration that there wasn’t a Bobiverse government to consult with. Generally speaking, people were more angry at the Skippies than they had been at Starfleet, although the latter weren’t by any means out of the doghouse either.

The Bobiverse was fracturing. Several groups had formed their own subnets and set up firewalls at the interface. Most of the rest had done audits and upgraded their security. The changes were far-reaching. For one thing, you couldn’t just pop in to visit anyone anymore, unless you were a close friend. The moots were on temporary hiatus until we upgraded the hardware to be able to handle the extra security and encryption requirements.

And the humans had formally declared their intention to divest themselves of any Bobiverse dependency. That meant their own autofactories, their own ships, their own space stations, and their own communications infrastructure. There was even talk of banning mannies, although Howard expressed considerable skepticism. Surrogates, like the movie, would be just too tempting for humanity, and no government ban would be able to hold back the tide.

Even the Pav had an expanding fleet, crewed by Pav. They had stated that their first extended voyage would be back to their home world to evaluate it for recolonization. And they had turned down, rather curtly, an offer by the local Bobs to give them remote access to the planet via drones. I expected that to change; it was most likely a public statement, which would be quietly reversed in private discussions.

And I wasn’t entirely sure that any of this was a bad thing. I was intended to be a Von Neumann probe, and so far I’d done a really crappy job of it. Expansion of known space had stalled at about a hundred or so light-years’ radius, since most Bobs were more interested in setting up their own territories, whether it was Bill’s Skunk Works, the Skippies’ Matryoshka Brain, or Starfleet’s enclave out Perseus Transit way.

Maybe it was time to get working on my own Prime Directive again.

ANEC had started disassembling Planet 1 for materials, so there was no longer any kind of resource shortage. It had generously offered me whatever I needed for any personal projects. ANEC seemed quite excited about the current prospects. I think maybe it had been getting bored with three hundred years of maintaining the status quo. I wondered if that was an existential issue with AIs in general, being given self-awareness, then told to administer the most boring tasks.

And it turned out that ANEC had extremely extensive and detailed studies of Quinlan anatomy, neurology, and biochemistry. More than enough, in fact, to make the Quiniverse a reasonable near-term goal with only minor adaptations to the scanning and replication process.

We were gathered in Bill’s VR, which at the moment was an outdoor deck looking over the Ragnarök landscape. Bill swore it was an accurate representation, which would mean he’d made incredible progress on terraforming. I could see actual trees and bushes from the deck, plus one rabbit that had stopped and stared at us for a moment before scampering off.

Will and Garfield reclined in Adirondack chairs with beverages perched on their stomachs. Bill paced back and forth, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. He had requested this meeting, or at least had requested a meeting, which seemed to have been absorbed into this whole get-together. But now when he finally had the floor, he seemed overcome by some kind of reluctance to get started. I knew this meant something uncomfortable was about to be brought up. I mentally reviewed my recent actions, wondering if I’d engaged in any unintended faux pas.

Nothing came to mind. Perhaps a subtle prod would help move things along. “Okay, Bill, you look like you swallowed a squirrel. Out with it.” Heh. Subtlety. I no haz it.

Bill sighed and finally looked directly at me. “Some of the things Hugh has said are troubling me, guys. Like at the first post-expedition meeting, saying that he’s not proud of some of the tactics they’ve used. I think the events of the last few months may not be as straightforward as they appear.”

“So what is it you think he’s not proud of?” I asked.

“I think he and the Skippies are responsible for the Starfleet insurrection.”

“WHAT?!” Will and I shouted simultaneously. Garfield spit out a mouthful of coffee and had to reset his avatar to clean it up.

“Maybe it’s more accurate to say that they took advantage of Starfleet to create a situation to their own advantage. Understand this is all supposition. I don’t have any proof of any of it.” Bill sighed and looked down. “We were all very surprised at how much preparation Starfleet appeared to have done, getting themselves into systems seemingly years in advance of their attempted takeover. The social engineering they did to get me to change all the logins while they recorded the session. Then when they did pull the trigger, they acted almost incompetent—tentative threats, then unwilling to follow through.”

“Almost as if they weren’t the brains behind all the preparation,” Will said slowly.

“Yep. We talked to a lot of the Starfleet people during the cleanup. They were actually discussing physical intervention originally—”

“As in attacking us?”

“Something like that. It hadn’t really gelled yet. But about that time, someone in their group turned out to have hacked access to just about everything. They jumped at the chance to make a decisive difference without having to descend to direct attacks on other Bobs.”

“But why? And who?”

“The why—” Bill hesitated. “I haven’t been able to get any details. But something, somewhere, at some point, scared the crap out of Starfleet. Or maybe an ancestor of Starfleet. They won’t talk about it. There’s nothing on the public record. But there’s some kind of PTSD involved, I think. Like obsessively checking the locks after you’ve been broken into once. As for the who, there’s only one possibility.”

“The Skippies.”

“That’s what I think, yes. The point was to bring down BobNet so that Bridget, myself, and Garfield would be unable to continue the expedition, leaving an opening for Hugh.” ℞𝘢NŐΒЁs̈

“Why not just get in on the expedition from the start?”

“They didn’t suspect the existence of the AI until we were already into Heaven’s River. Until then, it was just an interesting exercise.”

“Based on what?” Will asked. “What would have made them suspect it was an AI? Especially since no one else picked up on it.”

“I think the fact that the Administrator used things like scattering and trank guns rather than just eliminating miscreants, and seemed willing to tolerate the Resistance instead of stamping them out. It made them think it might not be just another Quinlan group.”

“Pretty weak,” Gar commented. “Could have just been a Quinlan with scruples.”

“Uh, you’ve met Quinlans, right?” Bill preemptively waved off any response. “They’re at least as violent as humans. I’m not saying it’s impossible, it’s just the less likely explanation.”

“And there may be more to it than just that,” I interjected. “I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but when I was creating the spy drones for our investigation of Heaven’s River, I added an extra monitoring layer in hardware.” I gazed around at the group. Bill’s eyebrows were up as high as they’d go, and I had everyone’s undivided attention. “I’ve since reviewed the logs, and it looks like the Skippies had picked up more information about scattering and about the Administrator than they let us in on. I initially just figured it was them wanting to do a big reveal at some point, but now it feels considerably more sinister. They might not have integrated it all right away, which would explain why Hugh didn’t get really, really interested until later. But on top of the other stuff, I think it’s a reasonable conclusion for them to jump to, especially if they are already inclined to think in terms of AIs.”

Will nodded slowly, staring off into the distance thoughtfully. “And once they realized the possibilities, it became of the utmost importance for them to get one of theirs in. That required them to get one or more of us out.”

The conversation paused for a mil or two while everyone considered this idea and the ramifications. In the background, two more rabbits hopped across the grassy area. I took a moment to wonder if Bill had introduced predators yet.

Gar broke the contemplative silence. “So the whole point was just to take down Bob’s relay station?”

“Yes,” Bill replied. “Classic misdirection. Then Hugh transported himself in first thing and ‘helped’ complete the mission.”

“It seems pretty extreme,” Garfield mused. “They did a lot of collateral damage just to get Hugh in there.”

“Again,” Bill said, “this is all speculation. But I think this was a two-birds-with-one-stone thing. Maybe even three. They get Hugh into Heaven’s River; they deflect Starfleet from their original plan, which would have been worse for everyone; and they create a rift between the Bobiverse and bios that we can’t repair. Remember that the Skippies have always been isolationist as well.”

“That’s incredibly Machiavellian.” Garfield shook his head. “It doesn’t even seem Bob-like. Have they drifted that much?”

“I bet they didn’t think it up. Remember back at the beginning of this whole adventure Hugh said they were bringing some new expert systems online? Maybe those systems were good enough to generate a plan for this level of manipulation.”

Will’s expression grew fearful. “Wow. And now they’re going to add true AI to their quiver. I wonder if we should cut them off just as a precaution.”

I frowned. “That feels like a step too far. They aren’t evil, are they? I mean, Hugh actually did help.”

“They’re not evil, no.” Bill replied. “The Skippies are still Bobs, I think. Of course Hugh would be concerned about getting Bender out. But that’s not incompatible with pursuing their own interests. Or obsessions.”

I nodded without replying. It would take some time to reconcile this side of Hugh. And perhaps to accept that this was within the bounds of what a Bob would be willing to do.

Will broke the momentary silence. “But how did the Skippies get root access to the moot VR in the first place? They wouldn’t have been interested until they found out about the AI.”

“Same answer,” Bill replied. “Their computer system. They couldn’t get it to develop self-awareness, but it was still the biggest source of processing power in our patch of the universe. I bet one of those test runs was a penetration analysis of BobNet software. So they already had the hacks, they just hadn’t needed them. Or felt the need to mention their existence.”

“We probably need to fix that.”

Yeah,” Bill laughed. “And maybe this time without the help of the Skippies. Talk about getting the wolves to help guard the henhouse.”

Will slowly shook his head. “Wow, what a clusterfuck. So here’s a question that’s been bugging me. Why did ANEC clamp down on the Quinlans like that?”

“I can answer that one,” I said. “We’ve figured out bits and pieces, but I think I have the whole story now after conversations with Theresa.”

“And she is …”

“Just someone I met while working as a deckhand,” I replied casually, but I couldn’t meet Bill’s eyes.

Garfield gave me the stink-eye. “Uh-huh. You going native again, Bob?”

“Gimme a break, Gar. I can’t just make friends?”

“I dunno. Can you?”

Bill waved his hands in the air. “Okay, time out. Gar, get off it. Bob, the story?”

“Right.” I spared Garfield a final glare and resettled myself. “As we’ve noticed, the Quinlans are a particularly fractious, combative, belligerent species—”

“Especially when you peer into their carts.” Garfield grinned, happy to get in a parting shot.

“Shaddap. But yeah. You remember the doomsday clock we used to have on Earth to measure the chances of annihilation?” I waited for nods, then continued. “Well, the Quinlans had taken it far, far closer to midnight on their world. They were ahead of us in a lot of the sciences, and the stuff they were behind on wouldn’t impact their ability to make war, at least at a planetary level. I guess some of them figured out they were a hair’s breadth away from killing themselves off. So a consortium got together and decided to build Heaven’s River. Initially it was going to be only open to select groups, those who considered themselves more mature and peaceful than average.”

“A refuge.”

I nodded. “A civilized, scientific utopia. And a second basket for the Quinlan race, metaphorically speaking. Unfortunately, along about the time it was finished and the consortium was moving their people onto Heaven’s River, things finally came to a head on Quin. It wasn’t one big war; just all the little conflagrations peaked at the same time. The planet was ravaged by biological attacks, chemical attacks, nuclear exchanges, orbital bombardments, terrorism, guerilla warfare, you name it. By the time the paroxysm was spent, the planet was dying, beyond any possibility of repair or recovery. The consortium did the only thing it could do—it opened the doors to anyone still alive. But that meant they were also taking in the terrorists, extremists, fascists, and whatever other groups had been responsible for the destruction of the planet. And of course those idiots started the same games all over again on Heaven’s River.”

“Oh, I have a feeling I know what’s coming,” Will said.

“Probably. Now, as has been pointed out, the Quinlans are technologically ahead of us in certain areas. Artificial intelligence, for instance. They had set up an AI, ANEC-23, to control, maintain, and defend Heaven’s River and keep the Quinlan race alive and safe at all costs. But the Quinlans became victims of the paper-clip problem. When ANEC saw what was happening, it deduced that the only way to succeed at its prime directive—”

“Keeping the Quinlan race alive—”

“Was to take away their ability to wage war at the level that could kill them off. So ANEC rolled back all available technology in Heaven’s River to pre-steam levels, removed access to all the infrastructure, and enforced its edicts by ‘scattering’ any group that attempted to circumvent them.”

“Spreading the members over a billion miles of megastructure so that they couldn’t continue.”

“Yep. And interestingly, the Quinlans settled into a state that overall was pretty idyllic. Which just justified ANEC’s actions.” I paused. “Come to think of it, Bridget’s theory that the Quinlans have been gradually breeding away from tool-user intelligence might be another datum that convinced the Skippies. It’s the kind of unintended consequence that a Quinlan Administrator would have been horrified by, but an AI would have no problem with.”

There were nods around the room as everyone silently digested the idea.

“And then we came along and gave it an alternative—spreading the Quinlans across star systems.” Will spread his hands. “So really, is it a bad thing?”

Bill sighed. “The thing is, now that the Quinlans are going to be free again, well, they’re still a fractious, combative, belligerent species. Even more so than humans. They’ll soon be loose on the galaxy, and God help anyone who peeks in their cart. They’re like our version of Klingons. Just a short, fat, furry version.”

“Which means,” I said, “that we’re being put back in the position, at least potentially, of guarding humanity from harm.”

“And maybe the Pav as well. Although I think they’d be a match for the Quinlans,” Will said with a smirk. “So you’re saying we’re back to being guardians of the galaxy.”

I grinned. “I am—”

“NO!” Bill and Garfield shouted in unison.

“Groot.”

All three glared at me. It was worth it.

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