“Maybe I don’t want to know.” Emily dropped her gaze.
Hamish turned. “What d’you think, Lacey? Can this big scope gaze Earthward and-”
Looking around, he finally spotted Lacey, Profnoo, and Birdwoman. Each of them now about as tall as his ankle, perched on a miniature platform just a little below this one, surrounded by more sophisticated machinery and computer-like displays. Tornadoes of numbers swirled around Birdwoman-again feathered-who squawked, danced, and pecked at the maelstrom. A data processing task worthy of her savant talents.
Hamish crouched down. Peering at the other miniature woman, whose expression now seemed more perplexed than jubilant as she argued with Professor Noozone, fists provocatively planted on her hips, casually tossing back lustrous brown hair with a single gray streak. For some reason, this perspective made Lacey seem not just “cute” but even more alluring-sexy to Hamish, rousing another flare of curiosity in some primitive corner of his mind.
The tru-vus replied with an answer he never consciously asked for.
L. Donaldson’s body image: 95 percent accurate re-creation of her true self at age forty-two.
Hamish blinked.
Damn, she was a babe!
And why must I be saddled with realistic, male, scatterbrained visual reactions? I thought we’d be above all that, in here.
Shaking his head for focus, Hamish bent closer and repeated his question louder, interrupting Lacey’s intense labor with the autistic savant and the Jamaican science-maestro.
“Things aren’t so simple,” she answered in a diminuated voice, looking up at Hamish. “Remember, the big sail’s main job was to reflect photons for propulsion, like on old-time sea ship. A telescope mirror needs a different curvature.”
“But its shape is adjustable to many purposes.” Courier joined Hamish kneeling at the boundary. “And it can reconfigure later for propulsion, when they send another laser boost.”
When? Don’t you mean if? But Hamish kept it to himself.
“That may be,” commented the Oldest Member without stooping or bending. “But of what use is such a device? To stare back at the solar system you came from? How could news from home affect your chance of a successful mission? Especially a mission that will fail without more laser pushes.” Clearly, Om didn’t think much of all this fancy, expensive hardware, whatever its purpose.
“I know the sail can reconfigure to be a primary mirror, Courier. In fact, we can tell that it has already started doing so.” Lacey’s voice seemed tinny from size and scale effects. “What confuses me is the design of the array behind us! An imaging telescope would need just one secondary mirror back there, not hundreds!”
Professor Noozone, now dressed oddly in formal white evening wear, looked up from an instrument. “I-mon can now tell you some-t’ing just plain obeah weird… dat just half of de many-petaled flowers dat are opening behind us are concave reflecting mirrors.
“De other hundred are flat discs. Opaque-mon. Not shiny at-all.”
“Flat disc? But to what purpose?” Lacey scratched her head, as if it were made of real flesh. “The only use I can think of would be to block or occult the sun. But why do that?”
She waved her hand at the schematic.
“What the heck is all this? And how is it supposed to help us spread the Cure?”
Hamish had nothing to contribute. And if there was one thing he hated in the universe, it was having nothing to say.
So… it came with distinctly-dramatic pleasure when he noticed something to comment on. Something happening far below in the magic-laden mists of the probe’s interior.
“Hold on everybody,” he announced, staring past Lacy into the depths. “I think we’re about to have a visitor.”
They all made out a humanoid figure climbing from the inner reaches, starting minuscule but growing rapidly. At first, Hamish reckoned it to be a downloaded person, one of the other AUP passengers. Only this shape appeared simpler, almost two dimensional. It swept higher, rising without effort or any pretense at “walking.”
He felt Lacey and Profnoo rejoin this higher level, while Birdwoman seemed content to stay just below, dancing among her numbers.
The approaching cartoony shape lacked texture or feigned reality. A message-herald, Hamish realized as it drew near… before Emily Tang let out a shout.
“Gerald!”
The figure braked to a halt, floating next to their thought-flattened platform. A simplified version of the famed astronaut explorer, not a full-scale virtual entity. A recording then, with some ai thrown in.
Hamish couldn’t-he just couldn’t-help himself. It simply came out and he vowed never to apologize for it.
“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
The discoverer of the first recovered fomite-artifact hovered near the group, granting Hamish a slight nod.
“Just honorary degrees, I’m afraid.
“Hi Emily. Lacey. Everyone.
“Well, it took you long enough to trigger things in motion. Slower than average by ten percent. Six million other capsules have already checked in.”
Lacey stepped back a bit, her hand over her breast.
“Then civilization hasn’t forgotten or abandoned us? Or blown itself up?”
The figure shook its head, conveying ruefulness.
“Millions of probes, and the virtizens in every one leaped to the same dark conclusion-assuming the worst. What a dismal bunch! If we do this again, we really must include more optimists. Or at least spare you AUPs some suspense!
“To answer your question, no, we’re still tottering along back here on Earth and the Settlements, uncovering failure modes just in time. Sometimes gaining a little breathing room and confidence. At other times barely avoiding panic. Doing some planet repair. Staving off tyrants and demagogues. Coping with both would-be godmakers and fanatical nostalgia junkies. Gradually learning to benefit from our multiplicity.”
Gerald Livingstone’s aivatar spread its hands in an open gesture.
“As for abandoning you and your mission? Now why would we give up such an important investment? You have a big job to do!”
Oldest Member stepped up to confront the message simulacrum.
“Then why did the laser stop firing? Has it malfunctioned? We are moving only at one hundredth of the planned and necessary departing velocity! When will repairs be completed, and more launch lasers built? If this delay lasts much longer, our rendezvous at the target system will have to be recalculated.”
Gerald the herald held up a single finger.
“First, the laser works just fine. When you get your optics running, take a glimpse back home. You’ll see it still operates, alone, on a slow-but-steady schedule, launching special experiments. None as extensive as your particular mission, which required ten million probes.
“As for your complaint about speed, in fact, your craft appears to be exactly on its planned course. No further adjustments or laser boosts will be required.”
Om howled. “That is absurd! At this rate, none of the probes will ever leave the solar system at all!”
The answer he got next failed to please the most ancient known member of a viral chain. The astronaut’s voice had a faint, sardonic edge.
“I’m afraid you’re making a faulty assumption, venerable Om.
“You always had that tendency… my friend.”
Hamish saw the rotund artilen glower in what had to be simmering anger. The next words to puff from those waving vent tubes came as individual snorts.