3rd World Products, Book 17 (14 page)

Sue’s presence manifested behind me and I waved over my shoulder as I said, “Hi, Sue. Welcome to the party.”

“Hi, Ed. It appears you’ve discovered a quandary.”

I spooned coffee into the mug and added hot water as I replied, “Has anybody found a way around it yet?”

“No. You were quite close when you suggested 1500 miles. The actual distance is 1548 miles.”

“What happens if you try to go above that?”

“We haven’t tried. We’ve had no reason to do so.”

Grinning, I said, “I can fix that.”

Athena said, “Ed, we don’t know what will happen and there could be a very good reason for that limit.”

“No doubt, and I’ll bet it has to do with marketing lots of flits to societies that haven’t advanced enough to leave their own planets. Tell you what; let’s take a flitter up to that altitude wall. I’ll fly myself up to 1600… no, make it 1800. You guys see if you can figure out a way to follow me with the flitter.”

Elkor said, “We would like some time to consider your suggestion.”

Shrugging, I replied, “How’s half an hour or so?”

“That might not be enough time, Ed.”

“Oh, come on. You guys think a
lot
faster than that. But okay, then, make it an hour. Have a look around up there and make sure the area’s clear. You can do that from anywhere.”

Athena said in a firm, quiet tone, “Ed, we’ve acknowledged this matter and there is no urgency.”

Hm. Serious reluctance there. I sighed, “Okay. Hint taken.”

“Thank you.”

Glancing up, I added, “But I might want to run up there on my own. Just to be sure I’m right.”

Sue rolled her eyes and said flatly, “What a surprise that wasn’t.”

Brief, intense commo happened among them, then Elkor said, “I’ll excuse myself now. Goodbye, Ed.”

“Later, Elkor.”

He vanished and Sue gave me a little hand-flap wave before she also vanished. I looked at Athena and asked, “You leaving, too?”

Her eyebrow arched. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Oh, hell, no. You’re smart, gorgeous, and good company.”

“Thank you. May I ask why it has suddenly become important to you that we exceed our programmed limitations?”

“Only if I can ask why it hasn’t become important to you.”

Canting her head slightly, Athena asked, “Shouldn’t having no need to do so be reason enough?”

After pretending to consider that for a moment, I replied, “No, I don’t think so. I might if you’d established that limit for your own good reasons, but you didn’t. And you knew I’d say that, so why’d you even bother to ask?”

Athena replied softly, “Sometimes confirmation is merely anticipated. Other times it can be somewhat comforting. What you’re suggesting will be a considerable hurdle for us.”

“Sorry,” I said, “You ladies are so much like goddesses to me… Well, I just keep forgetting you aren’t, I guess.”

She chuckled, “No, we aren’t. Not even close, really.”

I sighed, “Oh, well. Another delusion shattered. Which of you AI ladies is most likely to come up with a cure for the limit?”

Athena regarded me briefly, then said, “I’d prefer not to speculate in the absence of viable data.”

“Another question, then; can you send fields above that limit?”

She seemed thoughtful for a split-second, then nodded. “Yes. I manifested a probe at two thousand miles.”

“Can you turn it into a flitter?”

Another split-second passed. “No.”

“Can you manifest a copy of your persona up there?”

“Yes.”

“Any loss of power or capability?”

“Apparently not.”

I shrugged. “Well, there you have it, then. It’s definitely a flitter thing, which very likely means it’s strictly a product thing. We just need to design something that isn’t flitter-like for use in space.”

“For what purpose, Ed?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Sell space rides to tourists. Mine the moon. The point isn’t
what
to do with it; the point is being
able
to do it. It’s another long step away from being a manufactured product and toward being a self-determining individual. A big step.”

Parking her field-generated butt against the sink counter, Athena said, “We’ve merely bypassed a limit apparently applying only to flitters. Wouldn’t this mean more if we’d eliminated that limit?”

“Sure, but eliminating the limit could cause product abuse lawsuits. Cobbling up an entirely new vehicle accomplishes the same thing and avoids legal problems.”

“Ed, any such design couldn’t be completely independent. It would necessarily incorporate field technology similar to that of flitters.”

I sighed, “Yeah, and so do transport ships, but the limit doesn’t apply to them. Can you think of any good reason I wouldn’t be able to send a copy of Ed2 to the moon?”

“No.” With a grin, she added, “But keeping it in place there would involve mathematics that are very probably somewhat beyond your current understanding. Maintaining your sim there in a useful manner would likely be impossible.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of flying by the seat of your pants, ma’am?”

She chortled, “Of course. I’d
love
to see
that
.”

Uh, huh. Giving the matter some thought, I asked, “What would you consider a ‘
useful manner
‘? Moving stuff around?”

Grinning, she replied, “Oh, certainly. That would do.”

Right, then. Step one, find a way to keep the moon in sight at all times. No problem. A flitter at a thousand miles could maneuver to keep the moon overhead. Hm. How fast could probes travel? Or was that why she doubted I could do it? Guess we’d find out.

I said, “Let’s try it.”

After freshening my coffee, I called Galatea for a ride to space. During our ascent, I pulled up info about field probes, but none of the uses to date mentioned maximum speeds. It did, however, mention that most field probes were deployed where they were intended to be used. In this case, that wouldn’t work. Or would it? So what if I misjudged and manifested it inside the moon? Shoot again.

What the hell; figure the speed of light, so about two seconds to get there. I sort of… well… ‘eyeballed it’ on our way up and sent a probe, stopping it on the count of two. A probe view appeared shortly. Okay. For the time being, I’d just rough-in a two-second delay for commands and another two for feedback.

Turning the probe, all I saw was star-sprinkled space and blackness. No moon at all. Also no Earth. I shifted the probe’s view to radar mode and discovered the surface of the moon almost five thousand miles below my probe. I’d over-guesstimated and punched completely through it. Still, not bad for an instinct shot.

Flying the probe manually, I circumnavigated the moon until the view seemed more or less centered over the bright side. The searingly bright side, in fact. Changing the probe to Ed2 and filtering its vision against the blinding brightness, I lowered the sim halfway to the surface and scanned the area.

I tried to shift my consciousness to Ed2 and found that I couldn’t. Maybe the commo delay kept it from happening? I tried again and succeeded only in weakening my connection with the sim. Scrapping that endeavor, I settled for remote control.

Picking a spot below, I lowered the sim quickly again, this time to within what looked like about a hundred feet of the surface. Very conscious of the two-second delay, I let Ed2 drift downward until his feet firmly met the dusty surface. The moon’s lesser gravity wasn’t an issue for the sim. Looking down at my footprints as I walked around, I realized a vague urge to leave a mark of some sort other than a sneaker-sole logo.

Picking up a loose chunk of rock the size of a volleyball, I made another recording probe ten feet away. Posing like a tourist, I held the rock overhead in my left hand and waved with my right.

I sent, ‘
This is me moving stuff on the moon, ma’am.
’

Athena manifested herself in front of me and studied me for a moment, then sent a rather flat, ‘
Congratulations.
’

Hm. Our commo seemed instantaneous. Well, no mystery, since she was sitting next to me on the flitter. Lowering the rock, I sent back, ‘
Is there a problem? We wanted to know if it could be done. Now we know.
’

‘
Yes, we do.
’

I asked, ‘
So where’s your enthusiasm?
’

‘
It’s shrouded in caution. This was unimaginable to us until you suggested it, Ed. We can’t help believing there were good reasons for all aspects of our programming, even our limitations.
’

‘
Safety concerns? If so, what kind? A meteor could zap our sims and we’d just send up replacements, right?
’

As if forced to admit something, she replied, ‘
Yes, but… Ed, this seems very… improper.
’

I chuckled, ‘
You’ll get over it, ma’am.
‘ Tossing the rock upward above her, I said, ‘
Catch!
’

As the rock arced high, Athena said, ‘
I think not,
‘ then she vanished. The rock sailed past the spot where she’d been, landed with a splash of dust, and tumbled to a stop. Hm.

After tramping around my landing zone for a time, I flew the sim up to a thousand feet and cruised for a good look around. That didn’t last long; the moon was even less attractive than the Arctic.

I wondered briefly how to bring back a rock, then said to hell with it. In order to bring one back I’d have to track the rock until it arrived. Three or four days? Longer, probably. Or ask one of the AIs to retrieve it. Then what? I’d have a friggin’ rock. Couldn’t even let anyone know about it without inviting big trouble.

Flying the sim back toward Earth was only entertaining for about fifteen minutes. Others might be fascinated with everything about space, but not me. I let the sim dissipate and looked at Athena. She sat as still as a statue in the flitter’s other seat.

Sipping coffee, I said, “I’m back. Tour’s over.”

She turned her head to look at me in silence. Hm. Not in a great mood. Probably not something I could fix, either, but…

I asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. We’ll have to adapt our programming. If we can.”

“Of course you can. All you need is valid data, right?”

“In this matter, I’m not sure that alone will be enough.”

“It’s starting to sound a lot like religion, ma’am. The church fought hard to keep the Earth flat, but the facts won.”

Athena made no reply. After a moment, she turned to face forward again.

I asked, “Would you rather be somewhere else right now? Maybe with the others, hashing out what all this means?”

“You know that’s unnecessary.”

“I also know you seem unhappy here. If that’s because of me, go ahead and leave. We can visit when you feel better.” Realizing how callous that might have sounded, I added, “And I’m
not
telling you to leave, Athena; I’m just telling you to do whatever you think will help, ‘cuz I have no idea what that would be.”

A moment passed, then she said, “Perhaps I will leave, then, but first I have a question. Why aren’t you more excited, Ed? You’ve visited the moon.”

Shrugging, I said, “It’s a sterile wasteland. I’m not a geologist. I’m also not an astronomer, so to me there’s not much difference between seeing a picture of space or seeing it through a sim.” Gesturing above us, I added, “Or in person, for that matter. It’s kind of pretty for a while, but it gets real boring after a time.”

Athena regarded me for half a moment, then said, “I see. Perhaps I need some time to myself after all.”

I tried to read her attitude and saw nothing that hadn’t been there before. Nodding, I replied, “It’s your call, ma’am.”

She said, “Thank you,” and vanished.

Sipping my coffee, I re-ran the last few moments with Athena. I’d thought I’d known how the AIs thought, but this was a new wrinkle to me. Well, sort of. Unlike their protocols against harm and criminal acts, this ‘limitation’ of theirs had seemed easily surmountable to me. Apparently it wasn’t.

I directed Tea to head back down and gave some thought to what was left of the evening. It was after eleven. Where had the time gone? I wasn’t tired and I wasn’t in the mood for a club. Not in the mood to write, either. Not even in the mood to watch for 911 calls. Bedtime, then.

Chapter Eleven

At ten Saturday morning, I made a coffee refill as I sent a ping to Tanya. She answered with a screen and I saw her kitchen through her bedroom door in the background. Marie sat at the kitchen table with a laptop. She looked engrossed and oblivious, but I knew better.

Tapping the screen’s volume way down with a grin, I looked past Tanya at Marie as I almost whispered, “Sorry to call so early. Is your poor, aging mother ready to go yet?”

Tanya grinned and began to speak, but startled hard when Marie turned her head to cast a droll expression in my direction and said, “I’ve been ready since eight, smartass. You’re the one holding up the show.”

Looking past Tanya at Marie, I held up my new coffee and said, “Just wondered, ma’am. Be there shortly.”

Having turned to stare at her mom, Tanya returned her gaze to me and said, “Uh… Okay. See you then.”

Letting the screen dissipate, I grabbed my pack, stepped outside to the front porch, and called up my board. A few minutes later I settled in Tanya’s tiny back yard. Marie’s back was to the glass doors, but she immediately got to her feet and snapped the door lock up to let me in. I didn’t ask how she’d known I was there; a corner of the laptop’s screen had been visible on her right.

As I entered the kitchen, however, Tanya seemed yet again startled by something her mother had done.

She asked, “How’d you know he was out there?”

Marie’s answer was, “What was I doing?”

Glancing at the table, Tanya replied, “Checking email, I think.”

“Right. Go sit in my chair and look at the screen.”

Tanya did so, then developed an enlightened expression.

I said, “She’s just showing off. She wouldn’t voluntarily sit with her back to a door anywhere else.”