Absorption (21 page)

Then the Federalist Worlds had reached Roundhouse. As they had done on previous worlds, they offered membership. Because of their economic status, their payment was only token. Institutions were forged and treaties signed. If civil war broke out on that world again, Space Force ships would return to punish the aggressor. Technological aid and trade were offered as well, but the planet was in a trap. The richest could afford off world technology, making it very hard to rebuild intermediate technologies that were stepping stones to the top.

Oceanian nanotechnology seemingly offered an answer for this, but the ugly scars that lay under the surface hadn’t healed. Some opposed its use entirely, including the Octoids whose brains were radically different from human, and feared they would suffer in the long term from a system that excluded them. War broke out again, and ancient horrors were avenged with new ones. When the Space Force returned, peace was restored. Yet to kill all the leaders on both sides involved in war crimes, along with the civilians who had enthusiastically supported their government, would have started the war anew. Many crimes were blamed on the hive mind, although those who joined had sometimes expressed their intentions even before doing so.

The Federalist Worlds and the Space Marines were portrayed in glowing terms, and the author seemed to have something against his own world. The Space Force in particular was shown with complete fairness. Still something bothered Brett. The book blamed Oceania for what had occurred. The author was aware of the idea that the overmind somehow controlled humans as pawns, and even spoke sympathetically of the reasons for it, but didn’t think it worth the bother of refuting.

Brett stopped reading. His stomach rumbled. It had to be too early for dinner, but it wasn’t. He had almost finished the first section, after which various factors were explored in more detail.

Ariel had heard his stomach growl. “I take it the spirit is willing, but the flesh is stronger?”

Mildly stung by the macerated quote, Brett shook his head. “Nobody but us intellectuals here. I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from all this and dragging you out to dinner.”

Knowing Ariel must be getting hungry as well he said, “Let’s have some intellectual conversation instead. Have you read this?”

His hand waved towards the book before him.

Ariel replied, “As a matter of fact I have. The author is allergic to nannies, and somewhat embittered about the difficulty of living in our society as a result.”

Brett hadn’t wondered about the man’s attitude, but as soon as Ariel spoke he knew her words were true. He also knew where he could go to do more research, but the basic facts were undisputed.

Perhaps that had been the inspiration that had enabled the man to transcend his cultural background. Brett continued before Ariel could change the subject by suggesting the historian was unreasonably biased. “The only thing he doesn’t do is explore the possibility that Alexander became more powerful than the people who had created him.”

The Roundhouse overmind had named itself Alexander. Brett now understood the cover of his book, and appreciated the irony of symbolizing the Roundhouse overmind by its ancient namesake, and making it the ‘son’ of the sea goddess used to symbolize the Oceanian overmind.

Ariel shrugged. “If you keep reading that you’ll learn more about how the system on Roundhouse worked. But you already know something about Oceania. Most of an overmind consists of the brains that make it up, and they have to work hard to maintain it. People may do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do defending something they consider greater than themselves, but they’re still responsible for what they do. Our technology is a tool that enables them to work together.”

It seemed so obviously true that for a moment Brett wondered how he could ever have suspected otherwise.

For a moment.

How much did he really know, apart from what the Oceanians had taught him? If there was a trick, it was subtle. On any controversial issue he learned about via the overmind, he always knew there were different sides, and where he could learn more about them all. The very fact that he felt so trusting was itself suspicious.

Brett wanted to resist the waves of paranoia rolling into his brain, but he wasn’t quite sure it was paranoia. He only had one question: how could all this be done to him without Ariel knowing?

He didn’t want to believe the blindingly obvious answer that came to him, but the fact that he had never considered it even briefly was damning. He had been so eager to think of Ariel as a victim of the supermind, because he was attracted to her, and because of his feelings about Michael. If she had helped entrap him, was it knowing or unknowing?

“Brett, what’s wrong?”

Would a verbal explanation be the specific feedback they needed to understand what was passing though his brain – and how to ‘fix’ it? From his mouth to her brain, processed by the nanotech mind, would transmit (what?) to his brain directly. He wasn’t quite certain enough to speak the words that would wound or shatter Ariel’s trust forever.

“Ariel, I have to go.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not… feeling well.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

He damned well didn’t need an Oceanian doctor. He couldn’t claim he would see a military doctor, since she knew most of their staff had been withdrawn. “I just need to lie down a bit in my own bed.”

He added the last phrase so she wouldn’t offer an invitation which would have been very welcome even an hour ago.

“Let me walk you home then.”

The embassy was only a couple of blocks away from the tube station, but he certainly would have made the same offer if the situation were reversed.

“No, I need to be alone.”

He got up and walked away from the expression of bewilderment and hurt on her face. Either Ariel was an amazing actress, or she didn’t know what he was thinking.

The short trip back to the embassy got him physically away from Ariel, but it didn’t get him away from the nanomachines in his bloodstream, or even distance in any meaningful sense from the supermind to which they connected him. Suddenly Brett ripped the cap off his head. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? Maybe because he was so upset? Maybe.

The virtual conference room was designed to be secure. Ship to surface communications were encrypted. More important from Brett’s point of view, his Oceanian equipment should be unable to transmit in and out. As Brett unclipped the Oceanian computer from his side, a simpler solution occurred to him. He decided not to smash the machine just yet though. He tossed the box and cap in a corner, as far from him as possible.

Brett sat down in the metal chair and took a deep breath. He had examined Oceanian technology on Roundhouse, and while they were a notch or two beyond the Federalist Worlds in some respects, there was no reason to imagine they could destroy the blockade whenever they took a fancy. Brett wouldn’t attribute layers and layers of secret knowledge to them, with even the technology Brett had examined as a simplistic blind. So he’d assume that the nannies couldn’t communicate more than a couple of inches outside his skull.

Which left only what had been conditioned into him during the months he’d carelessly used the cap and booster to worry about.

Brett took another deep breath. He decided to track down the source of his concern. ‘They’ controlled his brain well enough to delude him that Oceanian technology alone couldn’t explain what happened on Roundhouse, but not well enough to prevent his sudden realization, or somehow head if off. Possible, but it seemed less likely as he calmed down.

Was there another explanation for his reaction? Lydia and her bionic eye had made a lasting impression on him as a Lieutenant, but it was more than that. The Federalist Worlds had indeed been part of the war crimes trials and reconciliation commissions on Roundhouse. If what he had read was really true, Brett had been misled by his own government, at least by implication. Of course the information couldn’t be made public lest the war be restarted, but Brett’s work was directly related, and he could have been informed.

Of course he might have been conditioned… but that way madness lay. If his brain was no longer his own, there was no sense worrying about it.

There wasn’t anybody in this solar system Brett trusted more than Colonel Barr. The ship would be overhead right now. Even better, he was already in the virtual conference room. Probably Barr wouldn’t be, but it shouldn’t matter too much.

In a few moments Brett saw a conference room with a round table. Barr was slightly higher than he should have been, probably because he was at his desk instead of in a virtual conference room.

“Sorry to call you without an appointment, Colonel.”

At least Barr wasn’t one of those who experienced disorientation from using VR glasses without the paraphernalia of a virtual conference room.

“No problem, Major. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been doing some open source intelligence work, trying to pick up clues about the nanomachines they might not want to teach me. I was studying the history of Roundhouse. I found a book that seemed likely to be free of propaganda, the author held Oceania responsible for what happened there. He insinuated that the war crimes trials made Alexander sound like more of an independent entity than he was, and less like a composite of the people who made him up. He implied this was done because so many important people were involved in the war crimes, giving them all what they deserved would have started the war again.”

Barr looked as if he were about to speak, but Brett swallowed and continued. He was having trouble putting this into words, and if he stopped he wouldn’t know quite how to start again. “At first it seemed obviously true, given what I’ve learned about the nanomachines. Then I started to realize how much I’d grown into the habit of accepting what they told me. Now I feel like I’m going crazy, I’m not sure if I can trust my own brain or not. If anything’s been classified secret I’m sure there’s a damned good reason, but I just need to know this.”

The Colonel frowned, and wrinkled his brow. “There are some things I have specific orders not to discuss.”

Brett replied, “Sir, under the circumstances could you try and speak directly to Senator Peterson? I don’t see how this information could have military applications, even if they got it from my mind.”

“I – I do have specific orders from him. I’m sorry Brett.”

“I understand Colonel,” Brett told him coldly, and broke the link.

So now there were two possibilities. There was a good strategic reason why what the Federalist Worlds knew about Roundhouse should be kept secret – or Brett had been misled by his superiors to foster his suspicion of Oceanian technology.

The idea that his brain had been so tampered with that he saw no holes in the idea that now seemed obvious made him feel ill, as if there were alien things inside him. He hadn’t thought of the nannies that way for quite awhile. The idea that his experiences on Roundhouse had been used to manipulate him by his own government was almost as bad, but he needed to know, or at least talk to someone he could trust.

There was nobody he could trust available to talk to him, nobody except the Ambassador. Brett’s stomach was empty but the thought of food made him queasy. It was a little late, but Williams would probably still be in his office.

Brett closed the door to the VR conference room. He had no desire to talk to Williams, but it was better than being alone, he felt as if he were going crazy. He remembered his earlier visit this morning, so much more optimistic.

His current knock was much more subdued. After he had settled in the chair in front of Williams’ desk, he wasn’t sure how to start. He really didn’t want to talk to Williams, but there was no one else.

Brett swallowed. “They’ve done stuff to my brain. How much I don’t know.”

The Ambassador’s eyes widened. “How certain are you?”

“I was supposed to start learning how to use the nannies for verbal knowledge.”

“What happened?”

Brett shook his head. “It seemed great at first. They can’t just download information into your brain, but you read a lot faster, experience better comprehension, remember a lot more.”

“But?”

“I found myself believing a little too easily.”

Williams leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “What do you mean? You must have doubts about something, or you wouldn’t be so agitated.”

Brett sat for a few moments, collecting his thoughts and putting them in order. “I was reading about Alexander, and led to conclude that the supermind is pretty much the sum of the people who make it up, and imagining an independent being was controlling them makes little sense. It seemed to fit very well with what I was reading, and what I’ve learned about how the technology works.”

“So they have enough control over your mind to prevent you from seeing flaws in this conclusion, but not enough to prevent you from deciding you were being manipulated?”

“It sounds funny when you put it that way,” Brett admitted.

Brett slumped back again. “Why was I so easily convinced? It felt like I was reading a book, only faster, and with better retention and understanding. If related knowledge came to me, I knew whose opinion it was and where I could read more about it. So it seemed.”