Peter Watts: The Island

Darwin's an abstraction here, an irrelevant curiosity. This Island puts the lie to everything we were ever told about the machinery of life. Sun-powered, perfectly adapted, immortal, it won no struggle for survival: where are the predators, the competitors, the parasites? All of life around 428 is one vast continuum, one grand act of symbiosis. Nature here is not red in tooth and claw. Nature, out here, is the helping hand.

Lacking the capacity for violence, the Island has outlasted worlds. Unencumbered by technology, it has out-thought civilizations. It is intelligent beyond our measure, and —

— and it is benign . It must be. I grow more certain of that with each passing hour. How can it even conceive of an enemy?

I think of the things I called it, before I knew better. Meat balloon. Cyst . Looking back, those words verge on blasphemy. I will not use them again.

Besides, there's another word that would fit better, if the chimp has its way: Roadkill. And the longer I look, the more I fear that that hateful machine is right.

If the Island can defend itself, I sure as shit can't see how.

« Eriophora 's impossible, you know. Violates the laws of physics.»

We're in one of the social alcoves off the ventral notochord, taking a break from the library. I have decided to start again from first principles. Dix eyes me with an understandable mix of confusion and mistrust; my claim is almost too stupid to deny.

«It's true,» I assure him. «Takes way too much energy to accelerate a ship with Eri 's mass, especially at relativistic speeds. You'd need the energy output of a whole sun. People figured if we made it to the stars at all, we'd have to do it ships maybe the size of your thumb. Crew them with virtual personalities downloaded onto chips.»

That's too nonsensical even for Dix. « Wrong . Don't have mass, can't fall towards anything. Eri wouldn't even work if it was that small.»

«But suppose you can't displace any of that mass. No wormholes, no Higgs conduits, nothing to throw your gravitational field in the direction of travel. Your center of mass just sits there in, well, the center of your mass.»

A spastic Dixian head-shake. « Do have those things!»

«Sure we do. But for the longest time, we didn't know it.»

His foot taps an agitated tattoo on the deck.

«It's the history of the species,» I explain. «We think we've worked everything out, we think we've solved all the mysteries and then someone finds some niggling little data point that doesn't fit the paradigm. Every time we try to paper over the crack it gets bigger, and before you know it our whole worldview unravels. It's happened time and again. One day mass is a constraint; the next it's a requirement. The things we think we know — they change , Dix. And we have to change with them.»

«But —»

«The chimp can't change. The rules it's following are ten billion years old and it's got no fucking imagination and really that's not anyone's fault, that's just people who didn't know how else to keep the mission stable across deep time. They wanted to keep us on-track so they built something that couldn't go off it; but they also knew that things change , and that's why we're out here, Dix. To deal with things the chimp can't.»

«The alien,» Dix says.

«The alien.»

«Chimp deals with it just fine.»

«How? By killing it?»

«Not our fault it's in the way. It's no threat —»

«I don't care whether it's a threat or not! It's alive, and it's intelligent, and killing it just to expand some alien empire —»

« Human empire. Our empire.» Suddenly Dix's hands have stopped twitching. Suddenly he stands still as stone.

I snort. «What do you know about humans?»

« Am one.»

«You're a fucking trilobite. You ever see what comes out of those gates once they're online?»

«Mostly nothing. «He pauses, thinking back. «Couple of — ships once, maybe.»

«Well, I've seen a lot more than that, and believe me, if those things were ever human it was a passing phase. «

«But —»

«Dix —» I take a deep breath, try to get back on message. «Look, it's not your fault. You've been getting all your info from a moron stuck on a rail. But we're not doing this for Humanity, we're not doing it for Earth. Earth is gone , don't you understand that? The sun scorched it black a billion years after we left. Whatever we're working for, it — it won't even talk to us.»

«Yeah? Then why do this? Why not just, just quit ?»

He really doesn't know.

«We tried,» I say.

«And?»

«And your chimp shut off our life support.»

For once, he has nothing to say.

«It's a machine , Dix. Why can't you get that? It's programmed . It can't change.»

« We're machines, just built from different things. We change.»

«Yeah? Last time I checked, you were sucking so hard on that thing's tit you couldn't even kill your cortical link.»

«How I learn . No reason to change.»

«How about acting like a damn human once in a while? How about developing a little rapport with the folks who might have to save your miserable life next time you go EVA? That enough of a reason for you? Because I don't mind telling you, right now I don't trust you as far as I could throw the tac tank. I don't even know for sure who I'm talking to right now.»

« Not my fault. » For the first time I see something outside the usual gamut of fear, confusion, and simpleminded computation playing across his face. «That's you , that's all of you. You talk — sideways.Think sideways. You all do, and it hurts .» Something hardens in his face. «Didn't even need you online for this,» he growls. «Didn't want you. Could have managed the whole build myself, told Chimp I could do it —»

«But the chimp thought you should wake me up anyway, and you always roll over for the chimp, don't you? Because the chimp always knows best, the chimp's your boss , the chimp's your fucking god. Which is why I have to get out of bed to nursemaid some idiot savant who can't even answer a hail without being led by the nose.» Something clicks in the back of my mind but I'm on a roll. «You want a real role model? You want something to look up to? Forget the chimp. Forget the mission. Look out the forward scope, why don't you? Look at what your precious chimp wants to run over because it happens to be in the way. That thing is better than any of us. It's smarter, it's peaceful, it doesn't wish us any harm at —»

«How can you know that? Can't know that!»

«No, you can't know that, because you're fucking stunted . Any normal caveman would see it in a second, but you — »

«That's crazy,» Dix hisses at me. « You're crazy. You're bad .»

« I'm bad!» Some distant part of me hears the giddy squeak in my voice, the borderline hysteria.

«For the mission.» Dix turns his back and stalks away.

My hands are hurting. I look down, surprized: my fists are clenched so tightly that my nails cut into the flesh of my palms. It takes a real effort to open them again.

I almost remember how this feels. I used to feel this way all the time. Way back when everything mattered ; before passion faded to ritual, before rage cooled to disdain. Before Sunday Ahzmundin, eternity's warrior, settled for heaping insults on stunted children.