“How lovely,” said Tessa sarcastically. “They just keep sounding better and better.”
“We’ve repeatedly tried to open up a dialog with them,” continued Nari, “but they have no interest. They don’t want to dominate us or rule us. They simply want us annihilated, completely wiped from existence. As far as we or our AI can tell, they basically can’t be stopped.”
As a fan of Star Trek, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Borg, except the Swarm was organic rather than cybernetic. Still, the whole ‘resistance is futile’ thing wasn’t such a great tag line when it was no longer fiction.
Yet another relevant quote flashed into my mind from the Terminator franchise: It can’t be reasoned with, it can’t be bargained with. It doesn’t feel pity or remorse or fear. And it absolutely will not stop! Ever! Until you are dead.
“But since the Swarm is intelligent,” said Tessa, “won’t it modify its behavior? I understand its possible unwillingness to stop killing non-intelligent life. We take life to survive, ourselves. Even vegans take plant life. Because we have no other choice. But an intelligent colony of army ants could at least bring itself to draw the line at fellow intelligences.”
“One would think,” replied Nari. “But apparently not.”
If not for the nanites, I’d definitely have a raging headache at this point. “So you’re faced with the ultimate wolf species,” I said. “Absolutely untamable. A cross between the Borg, army ants, and the Terminator. So it makes sense that you’d want to forge an alliance with a lesser wolf—like humanity. But why would Michelle still want us out of the picture? That doesn’t make sense. We have to be the lesser of two evils, right?”
“I don’t know,” said Nari. “It’s no mystery there’s been dissension in our ranks, but I never guessed any faction would actively take steps in the hope of pushing humanity to extinction. The only reason I can think of is that they’re convinced you’ll fail against the Swarm. And even though your species is the lessor wolf, it’s already in our henhouse. So humanity becomes the bigger, more immediate threat.”
“Suppose this faction does eliminate us,” said Brad. “What would their plan be then?”
“I’m not certain,” replied the alien. “My guess would be one several dissenting factions have previously advocated for. Flee farther west. Stay ahead of the Swarm.”
He shook his head. “But I think even they know this strategy is doomed to failure. The Federation representatives in your star system have been selected for their bravery and hearty constitutions. And then genetically modified to ensure these traits are further amplified. So we’re all many times bolder than the boldest of our compatriots back home. Most of whom won’t have the stomach to flee. Our lifespans are so long that existence is often dreary, and many will welcome an end to it all. Even if none of this were true, we can’t outrun the Swarm forever. Soon enough, those who try will get thinned out until they’re extinct, much sooner than we believe will happen if we team up with humanity.”
Nari sighed. “The bottom line,” he continued, “is that in the long run, over geologic time scales, humanity remains our only chance for survival. Our only chance to grow and thrive. With or without the Swarm in the picture.”
The expressions around the room were uniformly somber. No one spoke for several long seconds as we all digested what the alien had just said.
“Why didn’t Michelle mention this Swarm?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” replied Nari earnestly. “I don’t understand anything she did.”
I nodded, deciding to move on. “Then what else can you tell us about what makes the Swarm tick?” I asked. “It’s a weird coincidence, but they sound almost identical to a species I invented for a novel a few years back. One I patterned after army ants, actually. The similarities are kind of uncanny.”
“I don’t think I ever read that one,” said the colonel.
“Me either,” seconded Tessa.
I grimaced. “Well, truth be told, it was the least successful novel I’ve ever written. So I’m not surprised.”
“I read it,” announced Nari.
I raised my eyebrows. “No kidding?”
“No kidding,” repeated Nari. The alien cringed just slightly. “And in the interest of full disclosure, I’ll reveal another uncomfortable truth. The similarities between the Swarm and the species in your novel aren’t entirely coincidental.”
I made a face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I didn’t just read the book. I helped put the idea for it into your head.”
30
I stared at the octopus-like alien with my mouth open. “Come again?” I barely managed to blurt out.
“The Federation has technology that allows us to influence sentient minds, but only the slightest amount.”
“What do you mean influence?” demanded Brad Schoenfeld. “What, like some sort of mind control?”
“Not at all. Just feeble persuasion. Not even persuasion. We can give a gentle, subconscious nudge, and only while you’re sleeping.”
I wanted to scream. To express my outrage that I had been manipulated. To perform a mental self-examination and determine to what extent I had been compromised, and the implications of this tampering. But I forced these thoughts and emotions down. If ever I needed to come at something clinically, dispassionately, this was the time.
“Why only during sleep?” I asked. “Because you don’t have a conscious mind to contend with?”
“Exactly. Consciousness is a quantum effect. Even your scientists have begun to realize this. So quantum methods can be used to penetrate the brain’s defenses, but only when the subconscious is in control. Even then, inserting the simplest of thoughts or ideas into a mind is laborious and painstaking, no matter how advanced our technology has become. And even subconscious minds have plenty of fail-safes, means of resisting such attempts. The effort required is immense.”
“Yet you went to this immense effort,” I said in disbelief, “just to plant an idea for a novel into my head? I don’t believe it.”