Which left only the Tinker, Shikari, as a possibly useful ally. But its reaction to danger had already been demonstrated. It at once dispersed to individual components, and they flew away.
The curious thing was that the other three did not share Chan’s worries at all.
“We think that we have a satisfactory approach.” Shikari was finally speaking, slow and ponderous. “The Simulated Artefact lacks circadian rhythms and is indifferent to night or day. But our team is not. We Tinkers prefer to cluster by night, and Chan needs to become dormant. However, S’greela is naturally nocturnal, and like the Chassel-Rose she has excellent night vision. This, therefore, is our suggestion. Angel and S’greela should perform a night survey, seeking the Simmie. Human and self will remain here and rest. If there is no success in the search, then when daylight comes we will reverse the roles.”
The long blue-green fronds at the top of the Angel began to wave slowly in the air. Chan, ready to speak, paused. He had seen that motion before, when the Angel’s computer communicator was beginning its translation. Maybe even an Angel had some kind of body language.
“We agree,” said the translator’s mechanical voice. “However, we propose one difference. We believe that we now know the probable location of the Simulated Artefact. Therefore, the mission for Angel and Pipe-Rilla should be one of confirmation, not of search.”
“But how can you? — ” Chan stopped. The ferny fronds were still waving.
“We have completed the analysis of imaging radar records obtained during orbital survey,” went on the Angel. “There are two significant anomalies. One of them is our base. The other is almost certainly the Simulacrum. We request a brief pause, while we perform a confirming analysis. We have stored a copy of the ship’s data record.”
The Angel had answered Chan’s half-spoken question, plus another one about the ship’s records that he had thought but not even started to ask.
Telepathy? Even as the thought came, Chan rejected it. He remembered what Flammarion had told him during a Ceres briefing: “An Angel doesn’t normally think like a human, but not because it can’t. When an Angel wants to, it can put part of its brain into what we call ‘emulator mode.’ Then that piece can be instructed by the Angel to think like a human, or a Pipe-Rilla, or a Tinker of any number of components, or maybe like all three at once. And probably any other creature you care to name, maybe even like a Morgan Construct. And while all that’s going on, the Angel still performs logical analysis in its own way. Whatever that might be.” At that point Kubo Flammarion had seemed puzzled by his own words, and rugged at his uniform as though it had become too small for him.
During Chan’s moment of recollection, the Pipe-Rilla S’greela had unfolded its long, telescoping limbs and was reaching down to pick up the Angel. The Angel had objected to this the first time, protesting that it was quite capable of independent locomotion. But after two minutes of watching the Chassel-Rose’s lumbering progress, the other three had been unanimous. In any travel involving them, Angel would be carried.
Chan watched S’greela now as she easily picked up Angel’s pear-shaped bulk. More and more he was aware of the power in the thin, pipe-stem body. S’greela was gentle, but if she ever chose not to be she could swat Chan like a troublesome insect.
Shikari remained a few feet away from Chan. The Tinker did not speak as S’greela and Angel left in the air-car. It occurred to Chan that he was observing another data point. The others were very economical of words unless he became involved in the conversation; then human-style verbal padding was added for his benefit. They had realized that redundant words were part of human social interaction, as important to Chan as stroking to a Pipe-Rilla or clustering to a Tinker.
Chan stood up and moved across to sit by Shikari. After a few moments he felt the feathery touch of long, delicate antennae on his arms and legs. The Tinker Composite was quietly performing a partial disassembly and rebuilding. Thumb-sized components were leaving the far side of the great clump and re-attaching themselves close to Chan’s body. Within five minutes Shikari was molded solidly against Chan’s left side, touching him all the way from breast to ankles.
He turned his head and stared down at the purple-black vibrating mass. The contact was not at all unpleasant. In fact, that gentle thrumming touch against his skin began to feel surprisingly warm and reassuring. After a few more moments, free components who had not been part of the Tinker Composite when Chan sat down flew across and made additional connections. Soon Chan’s whole body, from feet to shoulders, was embedded in the largest purple swarm he had ever encountered.
He felt very relaxed now, but not sleepy. The pressure around him was just enough to be noticed. But the pilot’s words drifted back to Chan. If a Tinker chose to swarm on something as a means of restraint, it could be formidable. Shikari had its own way of neutralizing aggression.
He watched as a final few components flew in to attach themselves. “Do you feel different, when more units attach?”
There was an experimental whistle from the speaking funnel. “Of course.’
After a long silence, Chan realized that the Tinker had given its full answer. “I don’t mean more intelligent. I know that’s true. What I mean is, do you feel that you are a different individual when your size is increased so much?”
The Tinker was silent for an even longer period. “That is a difficult question.” Even its voice was slower and deeper in pitch. “We are also not sure that it is a meaningful one. We are what we are, at the moment. We cannot feel what we were or will be. We will answer your question with a question. Every second, according to information that we have received concerning humans, some of your brain cells die. Do you feel different when those units of intellect are removed from you?”
“It’s not the same. In the case of a human, every brain cell has been there since childhood. We do not add units.” (And brain cells are only a part of the story — should I tell Shikari how recently I achieved real use of my brain?) “We lose cells slowly. But to change, recombine, and add or subtract units, constantly and quickly, as you do … it is hard for me to comprehend how you retain the sense of a single identity during a time of major change.”
The Tinker rippled suddenly against Chan’s body. A cascade of about five hundred units flew away to settle on the ground as individual components.
“Like that, you mean?” There was a breathy rattle from the voice funnel, as though the Tinker was practicing a human laugh. “There is more than enough capacity for continuous thought, even when no more than five hundred components are present. Remember, each of the units that form us possesses nearly two million neurons.”
“That sounds like very few.”
“Few compared with a human, or a complete Composite. But compare one of our components with one of your honeybees. It has no more than seven thousand neurons, and yet it is capable of complex individual actions.”
There was another whir of tiny wings as the units came flying back to rejoin the mass around Chan’s body. The voice funnel wheezed, in a more successful attempt at a human sigh.
“We have far to go,” said Shikari, “before we can really understand each other. When first we encountered humans we marvelled at your strange structure. How could intelligence be delegated, to reside in some special chosen group of cells within your body? Within us, each component carries an equal amount of our intelligence. But now much of your thinking power lies here” — Chan felt a gentle pressure on his midriff — “or here.” The touch moved to the calf of his left leg. “What intelligence lies in these parts? What are the thoughts of an arm, or a lung? You will say, none. We cannot comprehend that. Yet we know it is true that a human can be reduced to less than half its size, lacking arms and legs, and have its intelligence continue unchanged!”