All These Worlds (Bobiverse #3)

*

Katsu Ito, leader of the Japanese enclave, was a Harvard-educated intellectual who had found himself in a position of power despite all his attempts to dodge the position. Or so he explained it, anyway. At the moment, he was hugging a coffee in Exodus-43’s common area. I’d printed up one of the androids from Howard’s plans and was sitting across the table, waiting for him to focus.

He looked up at me, eyes still not quite tracking. Bobbing his head slightly, he said, “You’re not a video. But you look like Riker. What the—?”

I smiled back at him. “Android, sir. Technology marches on. I’m Mack, the replicant who was assigned to escort the colony ships to 82 Eridani.”

Christie Campbell, the Vancouver Island enclave leader, was hugging a cup of chamomile tea. I spared a moment to be perplexed. The stasis pods didn’t freeze the subject. There was no reason to be cold, or to need to warm up. But when decanted, people almost universally wanted to hug something warm. Weird.

She peered at us with one eye, evidently in somewhat worse shape than Katsu. “I think the takeaway, Ser Ito, is that we have arrived and there are some decisions to make.”

“That is correct, Ser Campbell.” I nodded to her. “I’ve prepared summaries for you to read while you hug your warm-up drinks. We can talk in an hour or so.” I nodded again, got up, and left. I could have just switched off right in front of them, but I didn’t think that shoving my artificiality in their faces would be politically astute.

*

I came back an hour later, to find the two colony leaders in deep discussion. They looked up as I sat down.

“Have you come to any decisions?” I asked.

“I believe we have,” Ser Campbell replied. “The Canadian contingent will settle on Asgard. Your first recommendation for a site will be acceptable.” She turned her head and nodded to Mr. Ito, conceding the floor.

He wore a tight smile as he spoke. “We will settle the second planet, and we will accept your recommendation of a more northerly location where the ecosystem is less overwhelming. However, the name…”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Jotunheim? It sounds like someone sneezing.” He shook his head. “Unacceptable. We prefer Takama-ga-hara.”

I quickly referenced my libraries. It took less than five milliseconds to find the definition. “The dwelling place of the Kami. Nice. And perhaps appropriate. However, westerners will shorten it to Takama. Just sayin’.”

He grinned. “An acceptable risk.”

“Okay, done.” I returned the smile. “Jack will be pissed. His theme is kaput.”

*

Jack popped into my VR, invoked a La-Z-Boy, and plopped down on it. “Aagh! Friggin’ whiney, complainy, ungrateful hoo-mahns. We hates ‘em.”

“What now?”

“Turns out the jungles of Takama stink. And not just any old stink. The kind of stink that makes you wish you were back on Earth. Oh, and the gravity of Asgard is too high. Like that’s a surprise. But apparently it’s our fault, like we adjusted the gravity meter badly. And the sun is too bright, the clouds are too dark, the bugs are too buggy, the hills are too hilly…”

“You exaggerate.”

“Possibly. A bit.” Jack sat forward and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Remind me why we’re doing this?”

“Because we’re wonderful, caring people?”

“Speak for yourself.”

I grinned at him. “Actually Jack, it brings up a point. Dexter’s been getting great results on Vulcan and Romulus by concentrating on making the inhabitants as independent as possible. Things like giving them control over the printer groups, making sure they have their own cargo ships, and so on. Maybe we should move in that direction early.”

Jack shrugged. “That’s up to you more than anyone. The three of us will be leaving as soon as we’ve finished offloading the colonists. You’re the one who has to put up with them long-term.”

“Mm. Well, one step at a time.”

*

Ser Campbell was not amused. Okay, note to self, no attempts at levity in the future.

“Fine, Ser Campbell. Exactly what would you like me to do about the mosquitoes?”

“Mosquitoes have nothing on these flying vampires, Mr. Johansson. It would be nice if they fell over dead after biting someone, but apparently humans are biocompatible. There must be something that can be done to control them?”

Cupid bugs on Vulcan, Ickies on KKP, and Super Vampire Power Mosquitoes here. It would appear that the universe had certain themes that it liked to re-use. Wonderful. “You understand that if we clear them, there will ecological impacts?”

“I really don’t care. I have three bites myself that are keeping me awake at night, and I can state truthfully that I would happily take a hammer to each and every one of the little…pests.”

I had to admit, of all the things I didn’t miss about being biological, mosquitoes ranked very high. “Got it. All right, Ser Campbell. I think I can adapt Howard’s Cupid killers for something a little smaller.”

Ser Campbell nodded, apparently mollified. “I don’t suppose you can do anything about the gravity?” She gave me a small smile.

“Afraid not.” I chuckled. “Contrary to popular rumor, there isn’t actually a gravity meter.”

She sighed and nodded. “Ser Ito has described the odor of Takama well enough that I wouldn’t seriously consider suggesting to my citizens that we move. However, when Valhalla becomes available, we might experience a lot of emigration.”

“Mm, yeah, 0.8 gravity would be a significant relief. But that’s maybe fifty years away. Your children may be more satisfied with the status quo.”

Ser Campbell nodded without comment. We said our goodbyes and disconnected.

I checked the archives, and quickly found Howard’s plans for the Cupid bug killers. They could be scaled down for something more the size of a wasp. I sent the plans to the printer queue with a feeling akin to relief. One more item down.





Cities Attacked



Marcus September 2215

Poseidon “They’ve done it. They’ve actually gone and done it!” Vinnie waved his phone like a weapon as he stomped toward me. Vinnie was not physically imposing, but somehow he managed to look like an unstoppable juggernaut when in his angry marching mode.

“And by it, you mean…” Kal looked up from his tablet, where he’d been working on an engineering design for a new fish harvesting system.

A dozen of us sat or reclined on the ring of grass that formed the periphery of the flying city of Amhor. Most residents who could manage it performed their daily duties on lawn chairs or even on blankets. The air circulation systems were very carefully designed to keep the air temps down around a comfortable spring day in our domed environment—and it helped that fibrex didn’t trap infrared like traditional glass.