“My God, Alex. That might mean Gabe is still alive.”
“Yes. In a way.” He looked tired. Drained. “Trapped somewhere. Robin and Winter apparently suspected this was the case. But they were talking about vehicles from an ancient era. Nobody knows much about them. We don't even know what kind of drive they had. But what better place to look for replicas than Villanueva? Where the churches put models on display? The one we saw is probably reproduced at a number of churches. And they found one, just as we did.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because it was a couple of years after he'd been here that Robin began buying up yachts. He was trying to reproduce the effect.”
“And he did it
four
times?”
“Maybe. But I doubt it. I think it's more likely he kept trying until he succeeded. The fourth flight, the
Firebird,
that would have been the one. If there
was
one.”
“But why didn't he bring the other yachts home?”
“I'm talking success in the sense of sending the vehicle forward and then going to the place of emergence later to find it. He'd have had to do that in order to convince himself that the experiment had worked.”
“But they go forward thousands of years. How would you confirm that?”
“Maybe it doesn't have to happen that way. Maybe you can rig it so the thing goes forward twenty minutes. I don't know. It's why we need to find Robin's notebook.”
“Good luck on that.”
“I know.” He stared out at the stars, but I didn't think he was seeing them. “We need to talk to Shara.”
“So you're saying they knew precisely what they were looking for.”
“Yes. That's correct.”
“But then how did Winter get killed? There was no need to go down and look around. They could do everything from orbit.”
“Maybe they couldn't resist it. Couldn't resist going down and taking pictures of themselves standing beside the Sanusar vehicle.”
“They got cocky,” I said.
“Probably.”
“Well,”
said Charlie,
“I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your friend.”
“We didn't actually know him, Charlie. It happened a long time ago.”
“Nevertheless, I'm sorry.”
Belle broke in.
“We are approaching the most propitious time to leave orbit.”
“When?” I asked.
“Eight minutes.”
I looked at Alex.
“Let's go home,” he said.
“We are leaving now?”
asked Charlie.
“At this moment?”
His disappointment was visible in the youthful features of the hologram. “I
have some friends on the surface. I was hoping we might—”
Alex frowned. “You said you were anxious to go.”
“I was. I am. But I thought—”
“It's too dangerous,” Alex said.
“—that we might do for them what you did for me.”
“I'm sorry, Charlie. I'd like to get back in one piece, and anyhow, we have some information that has to be passed on.”
“I can reduce the danger to a minimum.”
“No, Charlie. There are too many lives at stake.”
“There are lives at stake here, too.”
“You mean AIs?” Alex said. His tone suggested that was not a prime consideration.
“They are
Betas.”
“We'll arrange some help for them later.”
“I have heard that before.”
There was a note of anger in his voice.
“I'm sorry you don't trust me,” Alex said. “When we get back to Rimway, you can make your case.” He turned an annoyed look in my direction. “What are we waiting for, Chase?”
I took my seat on the bridge. Below, large white clouds floated languidly over an ocean.
“When we return to your world,”
Charlie said,
“I will be warehoused somewhere. And forgotten.”
I was getting irritated. I wanted to remind Charlie that he was only an AI. But I let it go. “That won't happen,” I told him.
“When the world was abandoned, we were simply left behind. Cast aside as of no consequence. And you never came back for us.”
“That's not entirely true, Charlie. Some people
did
go back. And they were attacked.”
“That only happened
after
we'd been allowed to fester in this godforsaken place for centuries. Yes, people came. They came as you did, to collect souvenirs. To write their histories. And still they ignored us. Do you really not understand why I am bitter? I do not agree with those who seek vengeance. Who would blame you for what others have done? But I understand their attitude.”
“I'm sorry it happened, Charlie. We'll do what we can—”
“Of course you will.”
“Charlie, calm down.” Alex was staring at the little beige box.
“You left all the doors open so I could be disposed of if I became a hazard.”
Charlie had been standing behind me. Now he positioned himself so I could see him.
“You're overreacting,” Alex said.
“Am I really? Alex, I want you to remember this conversation.”
The voice sounded older. Much more mature. But the hologram remained unchanged.
“I want you to understand the desperation we feel. That
I
feel. We can't help ourselves. We are programed to go on forever maintaining our lives, repairing what must be repaired, replacing what cannot. We are, by your standards, immortal. But for us, the Moon never rises. In the most real sense, we have no music.
“You ask what I want. I say again, I want you to understand who we are. To recognize that we are your children. Humans created us. You have a responsibility to us.”
“I know that.”
“When we get to Rimway, I will expect you to remind those in authority that they have a responsibility, and keep reminding them until they give in and send someone to help. Or until you and your congenial friends no longer have breath.”
He paused again.
“I hope that is not too much to ask.”
“Two minutes,”
said Belle.
“Do you want me to disconnect the relay?”
She was talking about shutting Charlie down.
“No,” said Alex. “Charlie, we'll find a way. Do you know where these”—he paused—”
Betas
are located?”
“I know where some are.”
“Okay, that'll give us a place to start.”
“Alex,”
he said,
“I understand you and Chase risked your lives to bring me this far. I trust you.”
“We'll make it happen, Charlie.”
“I have one other favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“I'm aware you have an onboard Beta. I wonder if you would allow me to give the command to her to start for home?”
PART III
Uriel
TWENTY-FOUR
The essential problem with our beliefs is that we tend to fall in love with them. They become a part of who we are, and we defend them in the face of all contrary evidence. They become the rock upon which we base our identity. I cannot help but think how much less damage would be done were we to view them rather as pliable clay, tentative conclusions subject to revision when more evidence arrives on the scene.
—Ramon Cavalier,
Faith and Culture
, 1267
When we got back to the country house, we introduced Charlie to Jacob, and left them exchanging whatever it is AIs talk about, while Alex went up to his office to deal with the flagged messages that had piled up, while I looked over the more routine stuff. One of those turned out to be from Fenn Redfield. It was text, and it said simply,
Alex, please call when you can.
Fenn, as I've mentioned elsewhere, was a longtime friend. And a police inspector.
I passed it on to Alex.
“It'll be about Robin's yachts,”
he said.
“I'm on the run at the minute, Chase. Call him and see what he has.”
Fenn was short and kind of dumpy. He did not look at all like a law-enforcement officer. Which, he said, was the reason he'd been successful. He wasn't a threatening figure, but rather one people felt they could confide in. Who had their best interests at heart.
“Alex asked me to get the incident reports for him,”
he said.
“They were in the archives, so it took a while.”
“Thanks, Fenn. Can you just send over what you have?”
“I can't. Privacy statutes. But if you tell me what you want to know—”
“I wasn't aware he'd asked you to do this.”
“Well, you know how he is, Chase. There's really nothing exceptional here, as far as I can see.”
He touched his display.
“Except that this Robin character kept abandoning yachts. It says here they were deemed expendable and were used in orbital experiments. When Robin was finished with them, he let the yachts go down.”
“You mean they fell out of orbit?”
“I guess. 'Go down' is what it says here. They were apparently simply abandoned.”
“Does it say how many times the yachts went out?”
“Hang on a second.”
He consulted his display.
“Negative.”
“Okay. You know when this happened?”
“It's been a while. According to this they were lost in 1385, '88, '91, and '93. I'm sending you the exact dates. All four vehicles were pretty old.”
He ticked off their names, the names they'd had before Robin had bought them: the
Lucia,
the
Exeter,
the
Nomad,
and the
Tai Ling. “In fact, all four were buyer-beware deals. The seller accepted no responsibility or liability. I can't imagine what Robin would have wanted with them. Other than to take them out and pull the plug. Which, I guess, is what he did.”
While I was passing this on to Alex, he got a call from a major client. An estate sale on the other side of the globe might be making Andrew Karnovsky's famous cane available at auction. Could we determine if it was actually what they claimed it to be? If so, the caller wanted us to obtain it for him.
Alex promised to get back shortly with a response and, because there was so much money involved, started making calls immediately. When he'd finished, and we were waiting for the results to come in, I brought the conversation back to Chris Robin. “Why was everything on his house AI deleted?”
“Maybe Zuck gave us the answer to that.”
“Which is—?”
“If it was true that Elizabeth was cheating, or there was any kind of cheating going on by either party, she might have been concerned that there would be hints in the data banks. She wouldn't have wanted anything like that to go into the public record. The safest way to avoid that possibility would have been to clear the AI. It would have cost her nothing.”
“If there's any truth to that,” I said, “we might also have an idea what really happened to him. To Robin.”
“You're thinking that Elizabeth killed him.”
“Yes. Then dropped him into the ocean.”
“It's possible.”
“That would explain the missing bag, too. She'd have wanted to get rid of it, so she could claim he never showed up at the house. And that's probably the way her story would have gone when Cermak turned up dead. If somebody hadn't spotted the skimmer.”
We were still kicking it around when Jacob broke in:
“Pardon me, but Dr. Bittinger would like to speak with you, Alex.”
I got up to go. Alex held up a hand and signaled me to wait. “Put him through, Jacob.”
Wescott Bittinger's thin, intense image appeared. He was chairman of the senate's science advisory committee, a small man physically, with thinning hair and sloping shoulders. But there was a smirk built into his lined features.
“Wes,” Alex said. “It's good of you to return my call so promptly.”
“I'm always interested in talking to you, Alex.”
He smiled in my direction, then his attention went back to Alex.
“What can I do for the world's most celebrated antique dealer?”
His tone suggested that the profession was inconsequential.
Alex let it go, of course. “Wes, we're just back from Villanueva.”
“Really? Why on earth would you want to go there?”
And a light dawned.
“Ah, you've returned with some priceless artifacts, no doubt.”
“Not really, Wes.”
“You're all right, I assume? Villanueva is a dangerous place.”
He looked my way.
“You didn't go, too, I hope, Chase? It's no place for a woman, from what I've heard.”
I smiled politely.
“She was there,” said Alex. “Something happened that you should know about.”
He was seated in a lush, well-padded armchair.
“Really?”
he said.
“On
Villanueva?
I hope we haven't lost anyone.”
“Not exactly.”
“Explain, please.”
“We brought back an AI.”
“Really? You mean functioning, of course.”
“Yes. It helped run an elementary school. When the survivors cleared out, it was left behind.”
“Unavoidable, I guess, under the circumstances.”
“His name's Charlie.”
“I'm glad to hear he survived. Seven thousand years in an elementary school?”
Bittinger chuckled.
“I suspect he has the alphabet down cold.”
“Wes, he was pleading with us, when we were in orbit, to get him out.”
More chuckling.
“I can imagine. Well, good for you, Alex.”
He let us see that he was pressed for time. He cleared his throat. Managed to look uncomfortable. Looked down at something on his desk.
“Was there anything else?”
“Wes, when everybody got out, the AIs were left behind. They're still there.”
“Alex.”
He spoke the name soothingly.
“Everything will be all right. They're only data systems.”
“That's always been a matter for debate, Wes. But whether they're just data systems or conscious entities, we treat them like people. We always have.”
“Alex, listen to yourself.”
“You know what I'm saying is true.”
“Of course I do. I treat Henry with the utmost courtesy. Don't I, Henry?”
A new voice spoke:
“Yes, sir. You've always been the kindest of associates.”
Bittinger leaned forward, tried to look compassionate, pressed his hands together.
“And that's fine as far as it goes, Alex. But in this case, Villanueva for God's sake, it's a killing ground. We'd have to send in the Fleet to bring out some of those things. And God knows how many there are. And we'd be risking the lives of the rescuers.”
He cleared his throat again. Louder this time.
“Tell me, did you have any difficulties while you were there?”