“Okay bawbe, I get it. So we just tell the gangs they can’t go to a new village?”
“Er, no, that won’t really do it. We don’t tell them anything at all. We start talking among ourselves about repopulating the other village sites, and doing it before the gangs get the same idea. And we talk loudly, and we do it where they might overhear.” I paused to let him consider what I was saying. “Get some of the council involved, to make it seem credible. Really, just pretend we’re actually thinking about something like that, and start making plans.”
“And this will work?” Archimedes shook his head. “I really wonder about your people.”
“Want to place a bet?”
Archimedes grinned and shook his head.
42. Business
Howard
March 2193
Vulcan
The Enniscorthy Distillery Company was doing well. I looked over the spreadsheet. We were just barely keeping up with orders. And we insisted on C.O.D., so no receivables issues.
After some discussion, we’d decided we needed a planetbound distillery, and we brought Stéphane in to set that up.
Bridget slapped the cover closed on her tablet, then set it on the desk. She worked her shoulder and spine a few times before leaning back in the chair.
Stéphane frowned in her direction. “Backache again? You should see the doctor.”
Bridget answered with a noncommittal smile, then looked towards my image on the phone. “I guess you don’t get backaches, right?”
“Not unless I want to. We Bobs try to keep things as realistic as possible, most of the time, though. I don’t need to let my muscles go stiff, but stretching them out feels good.”
She nodded, staring into space. “You’re effectively immortal, aren’t you? How old are you personally, Howard?”
“Well, I’ve only existed for eight years’ subjective time as Howard. But my memories go back to Original Bob’s earliest memories as a child, maybe around two years old. So I remember around twenty-nine years as Original Bob, then four years as Bob-1 before he built his first set of clones; four years as Riker; fifteen years as Charles, who was one of Riker’s first clones; and eight years since Charles cloned me. That’s subjective time, as I said. There’s a lot of relativistic time dilation in there. So, I’ve experienced sixty years of life.”
She made a face at me. “That sounds complicated. Do you share thoughts?”
“With the other Bobs? No. When a Bob is cloned, he wakes up with the same memories as his parent at the moment the backup was made. After that, though, we each go our own way.”
“Wow. I’m not sure I could handle that. Life is complicated enough.”
“Well, what about as an afterlife?” I smiled at her. “Original Bob had to die first, before he became a replicant. Not much future in death, I’m told.”
“On the other hand, your relatives stop calling.”
“We do have one non-Bob, you know. Henry Roberts is the Australian probe replicant.”
She made a moue of something, maybe disapproval. “Yeah, word is he’s not fully bolted down.”
“Mm, well, Henry had some issues with sensory deprivation early on. We know how to handle it now. Any new replicants would probably be fine.” I looked at her sideways. “You thinking of applying?”
“No, just curious.”
Stéphane added, one eyebrow arched, “Immortality sounds good, though.”
43. An Exchange of Words
Riker
March 2178
Sol
“Hello, Mr. Vickers.”
The man at the other end of the call looked briefly surprised, but recovered quickly. “Well, I’m impressed. There was some question about whether you’d ever manage to figure things out. I guess it was too much to hope for that you’d just destroy each other, instead.”
I smiled at him—the kind of smile a cat shows to a bird. Just teeth. “Uh huh. You’ve been a busy little beaver. We’ve determined that the attacks on Brazil were also your work. I assume the idea was to try to foment another war, maybe knock off a few more people. So those deaths are also on you.”
Vickers waved a hand dismissively. “They had the chance to go voluntarily. It’s our duty to help them along. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I doubt if you even care if anyone understands. My guess is, your ‘announcements’ are more about ego than any desire to help or inform.”
Vickers grinned at me. “Already descending to personal insults? I expected a little bit more from you.”
“You flatter yourself. This isn’t a duel of words. You aren’t important enough. I’m satisfying my curiosity, nothing more.” I carefully kept my face neutral. I didn’t want to give this guy any satisfaction. “And on that subject, this whole VEHEMENT thing seems more like a vehicle for you than a cause. People like you aren’t joiners, unless you think the organization can benefit you. So what’s your ultimate goal?”
A flash of anger crossed Vickers’ face. “If you must know, replicant, I’m your maker. I invented the replicant systems that you inhabit. The systems that FAITH stole without as much as a nod. You don’t deserve to exist, you shouldn’t be alive. VEHEMENT is a suitable tool for achieving that goal.”
“I doubt that the members of VEHEMENT will feel good about finding out they’ve been used.”
“Don’t be na?ve, replicant. They know I have my own motivations. They use me, I use them. Everyone gets what they want.”
“And what does Ambassador Gerrold get out of it?”
“Gerrold was working with me on the replicant systems in Australia. When you stole from me, you stole from him. He was a little more interested in the fiduciary rewards—typical small mind—but his hate is useful.”
I nodded. I had about everything I needed. Except the one last item. Permission.
“Homer committed suicide, you know. Couldn’t live with what you’d made him do.”
“Good. It’s no more than he, and all of you, deserve.”
Permission received.
“And the people you killed, in Brazil and elsewhere? Do you care about them?”
“I think I’ve already answered that question. Is there anything else that you wanted to say that might actually interest me? Before I continue the task of ending your existence? You can’t stop me, you know. You’re simply not good enough.” Vickers gave me a condescending smile.
“Hmm, well, before I called you, I stenciled your name on a ship-buster. It should be there in about twenty seconds. Let’s see if that’s good enough.”
Vickers shook his head, the smile never wavering. “And you’ll have missed. You’ll take out VEHEMENT headquarters, but not me.”
I cocked my head sideways. “Oh, you misunderstand. There’s a buster heading there, too. But the one I’m talking about is coming in on your position, fifty-five kilometers north and two kilometers east of the VEHEMENT base. Little red farmhouse, to all outside appearances.”