David Brin - Existence

“I tell you, these things are insidious. Their array of tricks is uncanny!”

Gerald exhaled heavily. Genady had already explained these suspicions, before the ibn Battuta left Earth orbit. One reason for bringing a copy of Courier along had been to observe the entity in isolation. Gerald muttered.

“Come on, Ben, I know all this. You were about to explain a new development. Something having to do with Tor Povlov’s discovery?”

This message from Flannery wasn’t semisentient-it couldn’t respond to questions. Still, his anthropologist friend finally got to the point.

“We do have some advantages, though. Any alliance among these fomites will always be fragile. And the present coalition seems to have cracked when we showed them images from the asteroid!

“They know we’ll be getting a lot of additional voices, soon. A big supply of new crystal competitors to question. So many, we can afford to dump any uncooperative artifacts into a hole and forget about them. Because of this, a couple of our current samples-including your old Havana Artifact-are already backstabbing each other, talking about cutting a deal.”

Gerald nodded. Okay, this was good news… so long as Ben and the others remained careful. The ancient space viruses came packed with tricks that had evolved into their molecular structure, across eons. This new stage in the battle of wits-threatening them with new rivals-might serve to peel back another layer or two. But only till the damned things adapted again.

Then it would be back to the long, slow slog. Figuring out how to step a clear and safe path through the Minefield of Existence.

The second message in his priority queue was from Akana Hideoshi and the team managing Project Look-See. Akana started by congratulating Gerald, Jenny, Ika, and Hiram for their successful operation. Nearly all of the sixty-four sailcraft they launched were now on course. Only one probe had been lost so far, to an accident with tangled shrouds, with no way to recover. Well, this was a learning experience, adapting alien techniques to achieve a different goal. One chosen by humans, not interstellar parasites.

Gerald tried not to think about the crew of that one failed capsule-simulated copies of living human minds, who must now adjust to failure, drifting in space forever with nothing to do but look inward, making the best of simulated reality.

Isn’t that the fate of 99.99-and-so-on percent of crystals that get cast outward?

Still, he shivered at the thought. Death seemed preferable… and so each capsule came equipped with a voluntary self-destruct. Something never seen in alien probes.

As for the other sixty-three, Akana reported that all were proceeding according to plan. From now on, the Donaldson-Chang Telescope-remote controlled from Earth-would occasionally swing to fire a discreet propulsive pulse, secretly helping push each sail outward, targeted for a special zone, a unique region between the orbits of Uranus and Neptune.

It’s a lot of trouble for a simple experiment. One of many we must try. Each offering a small chance of getting what we want.

What we need.

Information. About the current state of the galaxy.

Saved till last, Gerald opened a high quality, semisentient message, again with an Artifact Institute logo. Only this one came from Emily Tang.

Bursting into vreality above his desk, she still looked as energetic as a teenager, with unabated verve. Emily’s almost-palpable 3-D presence leaned toward Gerald, as if sharing his breath. The way she used to during that first crystal-gathering mission, so long ago.

“Gerald!” her image uttered in a low voice, almost a whisper, her eyes meeting his.

“Have you been following Tor Povlov’s reports? The ancient mummies and all that? Isn’t it amazing? Especially the Mother Probe! An alien machine that built LIVING colonists from a software recipe, in order to settle them on a new world. You know, the ones that were killed before they could inhabit Earth?”

Caught up in her enthusiasm, Gerald nodded, even knowing that the recording was many hours old. She had been like this during the mission, two decades ago, refusing to accept Gerald’s “inclination” excuses, till at last he agreed they’d be lovers, all the way past Mars and back again.

“Yes, Emily, I was as amazed as anybody,” Gerald sighed. “A tragedy. Except, if those colonists succeeded, our species never would’ve evolved.”

The real Emily Tang could only view his comment hours from now. But the semisent had enough built-in response variability to answer him, with a grin that combined indulgence and impatient whimsy.

“Irrelevant! Immaterial. What matters is the technology, Gerald. When you’re out there, grab everything! The artificial wombs that made the colonists. The genetic manipulation equipment. Anything that might still hold data or software. And mummies, too. Bring home lots of mummies!”

Gerald nodded reflexively. Naturally, all of that was included in his recent mission orders. Retrieve whatever Tor Povlov and her partner couldn’t cram aboard their little exploration craft. All those alien technologies might open doorways for humanity. Moreover, they were so old-presumably they came unpolluted by the fomite plague…

Still… was Emily seriously thinking that Earthlings might use the Mother Probe’s method? Say, to send out seeder ships and try colonizing the galaxy? Every indication-on the Rosetta Wall and especially the fate of the Mother Probe itself-suggested that the approach belonged to an older era. An age of big, naive hopes. The tactic was ornate, cumbersome, and unlikely to work, nowadays.

But then, Emily already knew all that.

“This isn’t about us sending interstellar motherships to make colonists of our own, is it?” Gerald guessed aloud. “I’ll bet you have something entirely different in mind, yes? Some new way to use the Mother’s breeder science. Something no one else has thought of?”

It might not be Emily in person, but the emulation was good. Its conversation routines adapted seamlessly. The familiar face, now a bit more lined, with a hint of gray, was still luminous with insatiable lust for the new, the strange.

“That’s exactly right, Gerald, you clever boy.”

Almost, he could smell her minty fragrance as she leaned closer.

“I just had a wonderful idea!”

Lurker Challenge Number Twelve

Ever since this series of “challenges to ET lurkers” was first broadcast into space, way back in the twentieth century, people have commented and written in with alternatives-things the original authors missed. Most seem obscure or unlikely. But this next one keeps popping up, so we’ll include it in the main list.

Okay you lurkers, suppose you’ve monitored us-and the reason you haven’t answered is that you don’t think organic beings are worthy. You are waiting to talk to Earth-born artificial intelligences.

Well then, please examine the signature tags on this version of the challenge message. Check it against the public keys embedded in this asterisk * and verify that several fully autonomous AIs, who have complete citizenship in our civilization, have added their names. Click on them and get their affirmations.

You may not approve of our mixed civilization, but that hardly matters. If this was your reason for refusing contact the first time, then it is no longer valid. Period.

Perched upon the planetoid’s southern pole, a marker buoy now pulsed both visible light and radar-a beacon to help follow-up expeditions find the archaeological discovery of the century. Aboard the Warren Kimbel, ancient treasures filled the holds and central corridor, leaving scant room for crewmembers to worm their way past.