Betrayals: Seven

Zero minus two hundred and twenty three years

  Ach! The flood of light that entered her eyes was so great it was actually painful.
  The elevator door opened onto a large marble hall, and through the wide windows at the far end glared the bright desert landscape. The rocky hills and scrubland dazzled in the brilliant illumination beating straight down from the luminaire directly overhead. No matter where you went in the Necklace worlds, the light came from directly above, although the distant companion star Prior A moved through the night sky like a searchlight, dimming the stars. Here on Elsirac ring the luminaire was very bright, baking the land to produce dry, extreme conditions.

  Every little world was managed to reproduce environments found on real, round planets at various locations around the galaxy. Elsirac was regulated to mimic the Mojave desert of Old Earth, with parts increased in temperature to approximate the fabulously hot xerogaian Sirtis desert of 18 Scorpii.

  Somewhere up here on the surface was the person who had invited Augusta to come to this place, her former lover Jek Varillista, although she wasn’t too keen on seeing him again. Still, there should be enough other people around at his grandfather’s inauguration. Enough to allow her, if she was lucky, to avoid any nasty scenes or embarrassments with Jek.

  She had not seen Jek in real life since she arrived on Elsirac, and had received only one brief vid message from him in her hotel room under the ring floor.

  “Hello, Augusta, you look marvellous, I hope you have forgiven me just a little bit for being such a baseline-headed idiot-“
Jek suddenly appeared, with two or three flunkies in tow.
  “Well, I’m here, anyway – ” Augusta began.
  “-and I hope you can see your way to covering Gramp’s Inauguration for the good people of Rendell, yes? Yes. Good. Well, the fact is, I must dash – ”
  “So you only wanted me to come to this gathering because I can give you a bit of free publicity, eh? You are just as manipulative as ever.“
  “I know, you still love me. Bye.”
Jek grinned broadly and walked away, his expensive clothes strobing and producing murmurs of disapproval.

  That was why she hated him- his overconfidence and pig-ignorance. Had it ever been interesting? Well, it had been mildly amusing to mix with the ruling families of the various Tribes of Elsirac.
But only briefly.

  By the time she understood the culture of the desert dwellers well enough she could see that Jek was not such a shining example after all. In fact he seemed to hold the strict baselinocentric ethos of the Tribes in contempt, and delighted in secretly using ultra-high tech, and also breaking the conventions in other petty ways.

  For instance he preferred not to dress in the tribal style, rejecting the simple desert clothing (that most other tribespeople wore) to dress expensively and elaborately. He sometimes appeared as a Penglai mandarin, or a Rendell surfer, or in a glowing suit from Ñadi. In fact quite a few of his associates dressed the same, a clique of self-centred idiots in her eyes. Augusta found that she came to sympathise with those conventional tribespersons who looked at him and his cronies with displeasure.

  It was both a cultural tradition and a sensible option on Elsirac to wear cool, loose fitting clothes and a hat of a particular style, with a narrow peak facing forward. This taboo was sensible considering the respectable ultraviolet radiation that poured down from the overhead lamp. Late in the twilight you could see the lamp directly, and observe the diabolo shape that ensured even illumination over the entire ring floor. But at noon it was far too bright to observe, and the top of your head quickly burned. 

  Where is my little friend? Augusta thought. The gregarious brushbot was socialising somewhere with the local robots. She was hoping that he would consent to become a hat for her in the baking sunshine; he provided excellent thermal control in most situations. 

  Since Augusta had become a woman, Max had been a little distant and reserved. He took some persuading to become headgear for her, or to be worn in other ways; he did not seem to bind so well with a human female, even though his own choice of `sex' was entirely arbitrary. Somehow Max seemed to think it was improper to crawl all over a human woman's head and body, despite their close relationship when Gus had been a man.
  Or perhaps I have changed; perhaps my body language has changed, she thought. Max is like a pet dog sometimes- he seems to respond better to a male personality. Robots are funny things; so like humans, sometimes, but they are a completely different species.
Ah, here he is now.

  "There you are, Augusta, aha! There you are. Allow me to I introduce Robots 'Hdfgroup' and 'Ddagroup'?”  Max was sweeping towards her followed by two large grey shapeless masses of programmable matter.

  ‘HELLO/HELLO,’ said the two modular robots, together. A single perfectly formed grey hand extended from one grey lump, and gently shook her own hand.

  Modular robots were designed and built by the people of Elsirac themselves, following a concept dating back to the Early Information Age- tiny microscale self-contained units connected together in various configurations, which formed the body of the machine. Over thousands of years of development by subsingularity human robotic engineers the modular bots had become almost infinitely variable and adaptable. Now they were as subtle and sophisticated as unascended human ingenuity could make them.

  There was in some ways an evolutionary progression from these grey lumpy robots to the transcendant hyperfog that the Keter neodolphins used for swimming in (and much more besides).

  It could be said that the microscale units of the modular robots were crude analogs of everyday utility fog. Utility foglets  were able to disguise their appearance and become essentially invisible and intangible, but they were so complex to design and understand that only an entity that had passed the first singularity barrier could create authentic utility fog. It was possible sometimes to obtain packages that allowed it to be used by ordinary humans for various purposes, but not to manufacture it.

  The next level up was ultratech hyperfog as used by the Keterists. This was hyperintelligent and self-perpetuating, but could not be created or controlled even by first Singularity beings without assistance, and so on.

  Augusta was aware of all this, and was also aware of the gentle grey hand shaking hers
. ~This damn modubot had better let go, (she sent to Max) ~or my hand will drop off~

  ‘WE GOING TO THE DEEP CLAVE TOMORROW / YOU GO INSIDE US / WE CARRY YOU / YES?’ said the robots together again. 
  They seem to share their consciousness in some fashion - but even added together they don’t quite make it to turingrade, Augusta thought.

  “Yes, if that is alright with you, kind sirs,” she said, finally getting her hand back.

  ‘FINE/WITH US / FINE.’ The two robots shuffled off together, in step, and went to stand in the bright daylight outside to collect energy.

  “Seem like nice chaps, Max. Been hitting the town together?” 

  “Don’t be deceived by their simple nature, Augusta, subturing grade robots are people too… their processing nodes are perfectly adequate for what they do, and you’ll be glad of it when it/they carry you into the Kadesh oven. They are classier examples of sentient spirit than your friend Varillista, that two faced-“
“Yeah, well, he’s not my favourite – er – acquaintance either.
"But this is a big occasion, and I don’t expect to have to talk to him for very long. Hopefully I can keep an objective view of the inauguration for any viewers that might be interested. I might even get one or two this time.”

  Augusta was idly watching the crowd for people she knew or recognised, using a mild and unreliable recognition enhancement routine.
  “Max, look over there, that woman. It’s Selenn something-“
  “SelennTiyy, the narrowcaster from Hellas ring. One of your fellow mediacrats.”
  “Hey, you could do it too; there are plenty of vec channels that need reporters. I’ll put a good word in for you if you like.”
  “Wonderful; the big time. Audiences in double figures.”
  “Selenn Tiyy, that’s it. I’ve met her back in ArGartha. She’s okay, a laugh. If she’s by herself perhaps we can sit together.”
  “She’s got a dormbot with her- perhaps she needs the muscle like you need me.”
“Of course, pet, I always tell you- you are my bodyguard and I’d be lost without you. Now be a dear and pm that dopey looking bot; ask him to tell Tiyy that I’m here.”
  “Done. I have not chosen to inform the fine fellow robot that you are a bigot, by the way.”
  “Thank you very much, robot Handy. I will have to visit the confess-a-mat again. Shh. Here they come.”

  Augusta and Selinn, once introduced by their respective symaiotes, found much in common and went into the great banqueting tent together. Over their heads the light coloured canvas was warm and bright, like second sky. 

  Two pitch black Tribe Varillista eligibles came and sat next to the two women reporters, and were most charming and polite. Auguste asked discrete questions about the Tribe and the politics, and received well crafted non-answers, but the desert man was interesting to her in many ways.

  A series of modubots stood motionless at intervals around the partly open walls of the huge tent, while already seated at the head table were the three heads of Tribe Varillista. In the centre were Xac, the grandfather and inauguree, his daughter/son the woman/father Gether, and the dissolute son Jac. Gether, the father, was currently female, a changee like Augusta.

Lesser members of the tribe were deployed on ether side, including Gether’s husband-

~ Who is he, Max? My software is giving me too many options.
~ Searching –aha! Zebediah Tlole.
~Thank you.

  A stout, electively middle-aged, bourgeois individual who now introduced the inauguree in a pompous voice;
“After one hundred and twenty wasted years, once again Elsinac has a Varillista as the Elector. The Lord Xac is pledged to clear away the mire of stagnation, sweep aside the cobwebs of inaction, and move forward into the infinite opportunities of the future.”

  The grand old man stood up.
  “Greetings, Friends! Gzeut, Soldidos! Hola, emegi ! Well, I am elected now. I’d like to thank you all for getting me back into the hot seat, brothers and sisters. Now get drunk and fuck each other.”
The gathering of hundreds of Varillista family and friends roared their approval. This was evidently a traditional Tribal toast, not to be taken too literally… nevertheless, some people were getting stuck into the first part of the exhortation already.

  Augusta did not respond, but could feel the eligible glance at her. What was his name again? Oh, yes, Desmo. 
  “That is an interesting pattern your skin is making,” Desmo was saying, leaning forward to inspect her bare arms. “What is it called?”
  “This is a design called Damascene, it comes from the Umma shell, and originally from Old Earth. I downloaded it for the occasion, but I see your culture has little in common with the Umma.”
  “It is a beautiful pattern. And are you wearing it all over –“
  “Yes, I expect you will be asking me to show it to you next.”
  “It had crossed my-“

  Desmo broke off, and glanced toward the head table. Jak was looking in their direction, with the faintly abstracted gaze of someone communicating via the local net.

  The perhaps not-so-eligible Desmo was staring down at his shoes now. “I shall see you again tomorrow, whereby the fact that I shall be accompanying you and the other media to the Deep Clave. I must now bid you tseusk, adieu.”
  “Yes, of course, see you later – “ but he was gone. The peculiar turn of phrase he used stuck in Augusta’s mind.

  She was sure it was similar to the way Jak spoke, the same strange mistakes and hesitations…as a product of electronic tachydidactic learning, the heir to the Varillista family Jak was well prepared for a life of leadership. Somehow, underneath it all, he managed to remain ignorant and stupid. Augusta had taken just over a tenday to find this out, during their brief and irritating affair the year before.

  The young eligible that Selinn was engrossed with suddenly sat bolt upright, made excuses and left.
   “Well, that was short and sweet, Augusta. Didn’t he like my pheromones?”
  “No, don’t worry, he’s just been given his orders by the little prince over there. Junior doesn’t was any fraternising with the media.”
  “Pity, a bit of fraternising certainly brings in the viewers.”


  The next morning, as the overhead luminaire was still glowing pink, the party that was going to the Deep Clave assembled in the middle of the oasis. Fifty mediapersons milled around, waiting for the promised caravan, including the dormbot 78erek that accompanied Selinn everywhere. 78erek was not after all her symaiote but a close associate and business partner; Augusta and Max gradually discovered that the bot was far from dopey. They both had been led to judge the dormbot incorrectly by his cultural strangeness and unfamiliar behaviour patterns. The Dormbots were a clade of robot that came from distant Merrion itself, the commercial heart of the most competitive empire in human space. Although exotic, 78erek was no fool. 

  The heat from the luminaire began to beat down on their heads. Max positioned himself to shade Augusta's head, after the fashion of a burnoose hood. He was not a heavy robot, and the 0.8 gee made him somewhat less of a burden, but long ago Augusta Gienah had elected to increase the strength in her neck to accommodate the weight. 

  "Well, here comes the caravan at last," Selinn indicated the road to spinward. A small number of camels were accompanied by several Elsirac tribespeople and a vast grey multilegged creature, which seemed to take forever to arrive. Close up the monster was obviously formed from a vast number of modubots, and several wide openings allowed access to the comfortable interior.

  The procession set off across the rocky desert, with dust rising up from the sandcrawler bot's hundred legs and settling inside the passenger compartments. Selinn began to sneeze repeatedly.

  "Ahh, fuck- if I lose any implants, I'll – CHOO – sue the bastards!"

  Gently the modubots drew down slatted blinds that kept out most of the dust, and cut down the glare from the world outside. In fact after a while it was pleasant enough inside the crawler. It would be two long days in the undulating belly of the artificial beast before they reached the Deep Clave. Augusta utilised the time to interview Gether, the woman/father of Jak, about Elsirac politics. She had met the chieftain/ess during her brief involvement with the young reprobate.

    "For a thousand years, our families have found strength in our human condition. Not one Tribesperson has ascended in all that time. No Tribesperson wishes to abandon the sands of our heritage. We have always been Ordinaries in our hearts. The Powers of the Alliance have 
given us this wide desert to live in but we had to find for ourselves our own purpose and our own culture. We are ordinary, and this is the way we are meant to be.
  "Now the mood in the city beneath the sands is changing- the call of the sublime jewel worlds is reaching the ears of some of the people who walk in the dust. It was to the people who listen to that call, the Extraordinaries as they call themselves, that Lord Xac made his appeal when he set out to become the new Elector."

  At the Deep Clave, the heat was intense. The enormous sandcrawler took up position slightly upwind to block out the constant dustblow as the tribespeople and reporters disembarked and entered the oasis. 

  A great pool was shielded from the heat by a wide awning and even the camels were led into the shade. Light hanging fabric divided the shaded area into rooms and communal areas, with fountains in the innermost courtyard. 

  The Elector himself had not travelled to the deep desert; he was still having virtual meetings with representatives of other rings, and the cyberconference facilities here in the traditional tribal 
meeting place were limited. Gether and Jac were here to represent him, however, and so were a great many desert people from the lobbying groups and Extraordinary factions who were interested in gaining or extending their influence over the new regime.

  An excellent buffet was provided in the central courtyard, under the bright fabric shade that bellied down and rippled gently. A luxuriously moustached Varillista maitre named Alix, who was also a high-ranking tribal politician in the Ordinary party, was attending to the display and supply of food and drink. Alix seemed to know practically everyone. Augusta began to warm to this character, as she recorded his opinions for narrowcasting.

  "The first sons of the dust to live here in Elsirac had a wild and crazy time, before they realised they weren't going to die, ma’am. They ran around and fought and killed each other, went through backups galore. Gradually they realised they didn't have to rush around any more and do everything all at once. They had all the time in the Galaxy to get things done."
  "And I expect that made them put the old brakes on, eh?" Augusta said. "People discover that they can take time to enjoy themselves, when they realise what long life really means."
  "Put the brakes on? Hah, hah, hah."  The maitre laughed slowly, as if he, too, had all the time in the world.
  "Everything gradually slowed down and stopped! This oasis here was going to have a great white stone air-conditioned temple, but we have never yet gotten round to building it. The great chiefs and electors have always thought that if they ever actually achieve anything, they will have to start looking for something else to do."

  Augusta thought she might change the subject here, to give any viewers a little local flavour, and steer Alix gently away from politics. 
  "Many people admire your tents and shades, I’m sure you are very proud of them. They are elegant and idiosyncratic. Your people use patterns that have remained unchanged for thousands of years; some are thought to have been used on Old Earth by the Emperor Rudolf Valentino himself.There is no reason to change things if there is no need, after all, wouldn’t you say?"
  "Now you are talking like an Ordinary yourself, madam zar. Hah, hah. I don't suppose you really think like that at all. Most of the foreigners from the other rings know how conservative we Tribes of the eternal dust prefer to be, but I know we are not really typical of public opinion in the Progress Alliance."
Oh well, the maitre seems determined to be controversial, Augusta thought; might as well go with it.
  "But now the Extraordinaries have come along, pressing for development, change, excitement; what do you think about that?"
  "They think have been putting things off till tomorrow for too long. Tomorrow comes sooner than you expect when you live for hundreds of years, say the Extraordinaries. Some of them are looking at the deep future now, and just see years of what they call stagnation. Some of the Extraordinaries even want to embrace the Keterist position and turn into diamond and ruby ghosts."


  “Would you say then, that many people here would like to ascend in the near future?” Augusta thought she getting into the role of professional interviewer a little more easily now.” To become transapient, and live in virtual paradise? I am not an expert, of course, but somehow I imagine it is a difficult goal to achieve, and the people of Elsirac have always seemed, well, unadventurous to us outsiders."
  "There are people among us who have been listening to the ramblings of the so-called Blessed Fluke, and reckon ascension can be reached quickly and painlessly. The idea of living in a steady, changeless, reliable society doesn't suit every one, and they just get bored. Fine by me, let all the Extraordinaries clear off and live in heaven for all I care. It will be a long time before they get me inside a sapphire suit."
  "So it doesn't appeal to you?"
  "No, ma'am. Indeed, we have only just begun to find out what living a long life as a human can mean. I'm sure they could change me, mould me into a posthuman, but it wouldn't be me. Perhaps one day, when I've eaten every type of food -" Alix indicated the beautifully displayed buffet – "tried every drink, seen all the different colours of the rocks of the desert - I'll be ready."

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