David Brin - Existence

Many, mindful of current events, murmured about “those aliens”-the beings who were coming awake within their own strange sky-stone in America.

But far more frequent, and soon overriding all else, there arose a single interpretation of what several hundred women saw in that brief, holy glow.

Angels.

Hacker felt better after a shower and a meal. He even grabbed a little shut-eye, sleeping with the joymaker in his hand, so that its vibe-mode alarm would wake him after a couple of hours. When he roused, his vision seemed much sharper and his hands no longer felt as if they were covered by oven mitts.

A good thing, since there followed several hours’ work in the underwater center’s main laboratory, sitting at a lab bench, modifying the cable from his helmet that had tapped the sonic implant in his jaw-the same circuit he had used aboard the ill-fated rocket-converting it to link up with the archaic multiphone.

Dad would be proud of me. And Mom, too. I may be self-indulgent and overbearing. But no decadent hypocrite-brat! I understand the tech I use. And my people know that I can sling a soldering iron!

Through an open door, he glanced back at the pool, where members of the Tribe had taken up a game of water polo, calling fouls and shouting at each other as they batted a ball from one goal to the next, keeping score with raucous sonar clicks. One more behavior he figured you would not find among their wild cousins.

Hacker wondered about the “uplift” changes he had seen. Did they carry through from one generation to the next? Could this new genome spread among natural dolphins? And if so, might the project have already succeeded beyond its founders’ dreams? Or its detractors’ worst nightmare?

What if the work resumed, finishing what got started here? Would it enrich our lives to-let’s say-argue philosophy with a dolphin intellectual? Or to collaborate with a smart chimp, at work or at play? If other species speak and start creating new things, will they be treated as equals-as co-members of our civilization-or as the next discriminated class?

Hacker recalled some classics of literature, by H. G. Wells and Pierre Boulle and Cordwainer Smith, that portrayed this concept, but always in terms of slavery. In every case-and in all the clichéd movies-author and director showed cruel human masters getting their just desserts. A simple morality tale that always struck him as being less about hubris, and more about the penalty for being a bad parent.

But, what if “uplift” were done with the best of intentions, without any hint of oppression or cruelty, propelled by curiosity, diversity and even compassion? Wouldn’t there still be awful mistakes and unforeseen consequences? Some critics were probably right. For humans to attempt such a thing would be like an orphaned and abused teen trying to foster a feral child.

Are we good enough? Wise enough? Do we deserve such power?

It wasn’t the sort of question Hacker used to ask himself, even as recently as a month ago. In fact, he felt changed by his experience at sea.

At the same time, he realized-just asking the question was part of the answer.

Maybe it’ll work both ways. They say you only grow while helping others.

His father would have called that “romantic nonsense.” But Lacey wouldn’t, he felt pretty sure. Suddenly he wanted to talk to her, more than anything in the world.

That word flashed across the little screen, and he felt relief. Not only did some undersea cable still connect the habitat to the World Mesh, but the joymaker’s repeated pulses had managed to summon a soft-reconnection. All he would have to do is vocally ask for a connection to his mother. If his voiceprint had changed too much to handle the payment problem, well, then she could unleash some aissistant to take care of that detail from her end.

Yet, at the last moment, Hacker revised his priorities again.

I’ll call Lacey soon. She’s probably worried sick. But a few minutes won’t make much difference.

First, there are other urgent matters.

He was about to call his manager and broker-before they had a chance to declare him dead and start liquidating his commercial empire. But then Hacker stopped. Even that was doing stuff in the wrong order.

He looked back up the hall, where splashes could be seen, rising from the pool, and an occasional leaping gray form. The Tribe. The friends who had saved his life.

Hacker paused a second or two longer. Then he keyed the private access code for his attorney, hoping to get through, despite the lack of phone-ident.

After a lengthy ring, Gloria Harrigan answered, but at first she sounded brusque, distracted.

“Who the hell is this and could you call back later? The whole world is watching TV right now.”

He blinked in surprise at her non sequitur. The whole world was what ? He rapped his jaw, in case the implant had malfunctioned. Concentrating, Hacker spoke aloud. Even though he could not hear air-carried sounds, he could feel his larynx buzz and his mouth shaped sounds.

“Gloria-”

“Anyway, this hi-pri line is set aside for the search and rescue. So if it doesn’t have to do with-”

“Gloria…” He spoke carefully, as if trying to recall a disused skill. “You can call off the search… It’s me… Hacker Sander.”

There was a long pause. Then a shriek that carried up his mandible to resonate his skull.

“Hacker? Is that really you?”

He only got in two more words, before the shouting recommenced and would not stop for a while. Gloria kept punctuating joyful yells-calling others to gather around-with outright sobs. “This is goddam more important than any fucking aliens!” she hollered.

It had a strange effect on Hacker, almost making him feel remiss, embarrassed over having caused such emotion and inconvenience. Another novel sensation. I didn’t know anybody liked me that much, he mused.

At the same time, he also wondered.

Aliens?

Carrying the phone back to the dome’s atrium, he arrived in time to witness the water polo game conclude in a frothy finale. Dolphins pirouetted and squawked, either celebrating or protesting the score… as Gloria finally calmed enough to confirm that… yes… they now had his location pinned down… and help was on the way. About an hour… no, make that forty minutes, she revised in a hurried update, as a tourist minisub offered to divert from a nearby beach resort for a reasonable fee.

“That’s fine…,” Hacker said, though with a strange flurry of mixed feelings. “During that time, though… right after you phone my mother with the news… there’s something… I want you to do for me.”

He then gave Gloria the World Mesh codes for Project Uplift, and asked her to find out everything about it, including the current disposition of assets and technology-and how to contact the experts whose work had been interrupted here.

When Gloria asked him why, he started to reply.

“I think… I’ve got a new…”

Hacker stopped there, having almost said the word hobby. But suddenly he realized-he had never felt quite this way about anything before. Not even the exhilaration of playboy rocketry.

For the first time he burned with real ambition. Something that seemed worth fighting for.

In the pool, several members of the Tribe were now busy winding their precious net around the torso of the biggest male, preparing to go foraging again. Hacker overheard them gossiping as they worked, and chuckled when he understood one of their crude jokes. A good natured jibe at his expense.