interest on my part.
I glared at Marvin, ready with a sarcastic comment about the interruption, but I changed my mind when I saw his face. He looked distinctly freaked out, and Marvin tended to be level-headed. I set the video window to record and minimized it. “Okay, Marv, what’s up?”
With a flick of a finger, Marvin popped up an image in midair, showing an ancient set of bones. By this point, we were both experienced enough with all things Deltan to recognize parts of a Deltan skeleton. And this one had the bite and claw marks that I’d seen on some of Marvin’s other specimens.
“Looks like another victim of the mystery predator. What’s special about this one?”
“I found it less than a mile from Camelot.”
“Oh, son of a bitch.” If the range of this thing included the immediate area, and it was still around, I may have brought the Deltans back to be the main course. I remembered some comments that had been made when the Deltans first arrived at Camelot. In particular, one of the elders hadn’t been happy with the explanation that it was the gorilloids that had driven the Deltans out. Unfortunately, he’d only had vague memories to support his feeling.
I grabbed a drone and went looking for Moses or Archimedes. I found Archimedes first, fortunately not with Diana, and explained the situation to him.
“That’s not good,” he said. “If we were safer at the old site, and you brought us back here…”
“Yeah, I know, Archimedes. Don’t rub it in. On the plus side, we may have some lead time to prepare. But I need to find the elder who was making those comments.”
“Moses would know, I think.”
We found Moses with very little effort. He’d found and laid claim to a favorite lounging spot on the south side of the bluff, where he spent his afternoons sitting in the sun, relieving the pain of his stiff joints. I allowed myself a moment of sadness. Moses seemed to have entered that long slide into failing health that was all too common in the elderly. I went through the story again.
“It does sound familiar,” he said, thoughtfully. “That was Axler, I think.”
The translation routine was programmed to render Deltan names in human-
pronounceable sounds. It would tag that particular translation for permanent association with the name. “Sadly, he died three or four hands ago. I don’t think anyone else is even close to that old.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Archimedes, Moses, don’t say anything to anyone else about this. I don’t want to start a panic without more information.
Marvin and I will do some more investigations. I will also set some drones to a wide perimeter guard. If anyone sees them and asks, just tell them I’m doing a gorilloid count.”
The two nodded, both looking worried.
* * *
“But where have they gone?” Marvin scratched his head, staring at the globe.
“Look, maybe Deltans weren’t their primary prey. Maybe they discovered that Deltans were delicious and started hunting them preferentially. After the Deltans left, they would have just gone back to whatever they normally hunted.”
“Right, which is why I’ve expanded the search. But let’s face it, we’re talking about millions of square miles. A predator can have quite a range.” As he talked, Marvin was dividing the land area on the continent into segments. I could see from the metadata that he was assigning drones to each segment.
He sat back and stared at the results. After a few moments of consideration, he handed it off to Guppy for implementation and turned to face me.
“How are we for busters?”
I raised my eyebrows in alarm. “Damn. Good point. I haven’t been keeping up with production. Between the gorilloids all growing a collective brain, and us taking the printers off-schedule to build the extra exploration drones, we’re down to less than a dozen.”
Marvin grinned. “Welp. There goes the schedule again, I guess.”
12. Bob Calling
Bill
May 2171
Epsilon Eridani
[Incoming SCUT connection. New node]
Guppy made the announcement with the same fishy poker face that he would use to announce the end of the world. I looked up and grinned.
Garfield dropped the file he was working on and came running over. Only a handful of Bobs, so far, had received the SCUT plans that I’d been broadcasting and had built their own FTL transceiver. Each new connection was an event.
I held the moment as long as I could. Just as Garfield drew a breath to yell at me, I said to Guppy, “Play the incoming.”
“This is Bob calling. Bill, you actually cracked FTL communications? I’m impressed! ”
I did a fist pump, and then Garfield and I whooped and performed a high five—the nerd kind, where you miss.
Logically, Bob-1 was no more significant than any other Bob that received the SCUT plans, but this wasn’t a matter of logic. Bob-1 was like Odin the All-Father. He started the whole thing. For me it was special, since he’d cloned me. For any of the third-generation or later Bobs, it would be like legend walking among us.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from pulling the usual prank.
I popped into Bob’s VR without warning, coffee in hand. I noticed, as the VRs synced, that he’d been doing some enhancements of his own. The versions weren’t incompatible, but there would be video glitches. I’d have to upgrade him to my latest release so he would be fully compatible with BobNet.
“Holy—” Bob jerked in surprise, and Spike bolted from the desk she’d been sitting on.
I laughed. “Works every time. Hi Bob. Welcome to BobNet.”
Bob smiled at the implied tip of the hat. I took a millisecond to look around his VR. This appeared to be a planetary environment—a village of some kind. Some species of natives were going about their business. They were obviously intelligent, since they had spears and axes and stuff. They looked a little like walking bats with a dash of pig thrown in, by way of long snouts with flat nostrils. Their fur was short, generally gray, with brown overtones. Kind of ugly, really.
The level of detail was impressive, and I couldn’t remember any movie or book that featured creatures like this. I looked over at Bob, who was trying to suppress a smug grin—and failing badly.
With a jolt, I realized that this had to be real. Or at least a VR based on reality. This was First Contact.
Keeping my expression neutral, I turned in a circle to take in the full tableau. “Who are the neighbors?”
Bob, now grinning unabashedly, swept a hand around the virtual campground. “This is a recording of the Deltans’ village. I use this to experience their environment. Get a better feel for how they live.”
“Interesting. Have you made contact?”
There was a barking laugh from off to the side, and I looked over to see another Bob. I turned back to Bob-1 and was surprised to see he was blushing. That was better VR realism than my version supported. I decided I’d do a merge on the VR features before upgrading him.