All These Worlds (Bobiverse #3)

I paused to stretch, then pulled a tent flap aside and peeked outside. Wow. Good day to stay indoors. The rain, in drops almost as big as marbles in this heavy atmosphere, came in more horizontally than otherwise.

These tropical storms were surprisingly rare in this part of Eden, fortunately. I wondered how the Deltans would have handled them before my introduction of tents. Probably huddled under blankets made from skins. I remembered that storm they’d endured during the exodus from the old village. That hadn’t been as bad as this, but it had still put me onto the tent idea.

I glanced around the village. No one was in sight, not surprisingly. Behind me, I heard stirring.

“Are you going to keep that thing open forever? You’re letting the cold in.”

I grunted and released the flap. Belinda wasn’t big on cold.

I returned to my spot, lay down, and put my hands behind my head. Archimedes was awake, turning a piece of flint in his hands. I could see that it was the spear-head from Fred’s spear.

Archimedes looked in my direction. “I’ve got an idea for getting the flint teaching thing going.” He waved the spear-head like a wand. “It’s worth it if it ends the fighting.”

“Sure, Archimedes. I’ve got your back, whatever you want to do.”

“Good. I’ll have to make a half-dozen or so spear-heads and knife blades, first. Belinda won’t let me work inside, so I hope this storm ends soon.”

“My bones tell me it’ll clear up around noon.” I twisted my ears in amusement, and Archimedes returned the expression.

I had earned a reputation as an accurate forecaster of weather, crediting aches in my bones for being able to feel the change. In fact, I simply looked down from orbit at the prevailing weather patterns. Sure, it was cheating. So what?



The storm blew itself out by early afternoon, so we headed out to Archimedes’ favorite flint-working spot. I was impressed by the amount of flint flakes lying discarded on the ground. Someone pushed them into a pile occasionally, when they started to become an irritant, so there was an even larger heap of flakes a few feet away. Children would often pick through the pile, looking for flakes that could be made into arrow-heads. Archimedes didn’t mind—he made more than enough product to trade for everything he and his family could want.

Archimedes endured a coughing fit as he sat down. He still hadn’t completely recovered from the kidnapping. I waited, ready to go back for water if he needed it.

Over the course of the afternoon, Archimedes roughed out a dozen blanks. I took the opportunity to go on a quick hunting trip, during which I checked surveillance for any Caerleon activity. I found nothing, which led me to hope that the incident had cooled any desire by the other village to take us on again.

I dropped off a turkey-equivalent with Belinda, received a smile in return, and returned to Archimedes’ work area.

“I’ll be a few days getting these ready, Robert,” he said to me as I sat down. “Then we have to figure out how to offer them without getting killed.”

“Sooner the better, buddy. I’ll talk to Donald.”

Archimedes resumed his work, and I settled back to enjoy the sunshine.





Resurrection



Howard

October 2220

HIP 14101

I reached out, for the umpteenth time, to flip the switch. And pulled my hand back, yet again. Oh, my freakin’ God, what was wrong with me? I had Bridget’s scan—finally, after months of court battles. I had a matrix and a ship built for her. Her VR was set up, her firewall was set up, I had accounts set up for her on BobNet…

What the hell?

In desperation, I sent a text off to Bill. Am I doing the right thing?

The answer came back almost immediately. Oh, hell, no.

Well, nothing like a little bit of support from your friends. Chuckling, I flipped the switch.

Bridget appeared in the middle of my VR—twenty-eight years old, thick red hair, dimples, lab coat—just like the first day I’d met her.

I stared, slack-jawed. I couldn’t help it. I was completely, utterly, frozen.

Bridget turned a full circle, then smiled uncertainly at me. “Howard?”

I wordlessly got up, rushed to her, and wrapped her in my arms. She hugged me, put her head on my shoulder, and we simply existed, for what could have been forever.

Finally, she stepped back and looked at me searchingly. “I guess this means I’m dead?”

“Original Bridget is dead. You are very much alive.”

“Okay, Howard, I’ll toe the official line. I know you’ve always been sensitive about the difference.”

“It’s important to get an image of yourself as a unique person, Bridge. You aren’t just a copy. You’re you, and you’ll become more you as time goes on.”

I took her hand and led her to the couch. I had copied the couch from her apartment, in the hope that it would reassure her. She looked at it and chuckled, no doubt fully aware of my intent.

“We’ve got hundreds of Bobs now. Every one of us is different. Some are a little different, some are a lot. There’s no feeling of us just being ‘Bob clones’. And you aren’t just a ‘Bridget clone’.”

Bridget’s lips pressed together for a moment. Then she looked me in the eyes. “Got it. If I believe my Catholic upbringing, Original Bridget is now in either Heaven or Hell. You know the Catholic Church was never able to come up with a coherent policy on replicants, right?”

I chuckled. “They didn’t have a whole lot of time, before Armageddon distracted everyone.”

Bridget blew out a deep breath and looked around. “What happened to the beach?”

“I can bring that back if you want. But this is my normal indoor VR. I’ve kind of settled on the default Bob library slash living room.”

“Could we, please? I never actually experienced the ocean shore in real life on Earth.”

I nodded, and the VR changed to my tropical paradise. A warm breeze ruffled our clothing, gulls squawked in the distance, and Jeeves stood at attention with a couple of drinks with little umbrellas.

Bridget giggled. She looked around, sighed, then patted the couch. “This could probably go.”

“Your wish is my command.”

The couch was replaced with a couple of comfortable lawn chairs—not the plasticky ones with cross-ways straps, but the good ones, with a fitted cushion. No geese here to worry about.

Bridget lay back in the chair and took a deep breath. “Okay, this is not bad. I might still have a panic attack at some point, but then maybe not. So, let’s bring me up to date. I died?”

“Yes.” I hesitated, looking at her. “Heart failure. You hadn’t told me that you’d changed your will. Apparently it was a surprise to a lot of people.”

She looked at me intently. “How did it go over with the children?”

I rolled my eyes. “Good thing you set aside that defense fund. I’ve got all the court documents and such, still. You can look them over whenever you want. Suffice it to say, though, that we are no longer on speaking terms.”

Bridget looked down with an expression of deep sadness. “I guess I’m probably not going to be their favorite person, either. Nevertheless, I should make the attempt.”

“Start with Howie.”