Charles Sheffield - Tomorrow and Tomorrow

“How many have been resurrected?”

She grimaced. “I knew you would ask me that. The cryowombs still hold close to fifty thousand people. Fewer than five hundred of those have been revivified. None but you has been resurrected in the past twenty-five thousand years. You and Melissa Bierly are the only people to have entered the cryowombs twice, and been resurrected twice.”

“Melissa. What happened to Melissa?” Drake saw again those sapphire eyes, blazing with madness.

“She was resurrected.”

“Was she insane?”

“Once, she was. But she is cured.”

“She’s alive ?”

“Very much alive. Still superhuman smart and healthy and intelligent, only now she’s happy and no longer suicidal.”

“You met Melissa?”

“Certainly.” Ana smiled at Drake, with an expression that he read as totally loving. “You have your obsessions, Drake, you must permit me mine. I sought Melissa out originally, just because she knew you. We have talked about you, many times. She forms part of the expedition to Rigel Calorans. More than that—”

Drake interrupted: “But I thought that resurrection had become trivial, for anyone who was properly frozen. Why have so few been revived?”

“Resurrection is trivial. The problem isn’t technological; it’s emotional and ethical. If I revive a cryocorpse, what are my responsibilities toward that person? What are my emotional commitments? Although everyone recognizes that their ancestors are here, those are remote ancestors. Think of your own time. Would you, if you could, have resurrected Hammurabi, or Augustus Caesar — even if you were a distant descendant? They would have been lost in your world of telephones and automobiles and computers. Yet they were exceptional people, not like most of the cryocorpses. Do you know the prime criterion that decided who was preserved in the cryowombs?”

Drake nodded glumly. “I can guess, from what the people at Second Chance told me. Money.”

“Exactly. It took money to be frozen, and much more to maintain the condition over the centuries. You are an anomaly, Drake. I read all I could find about you, and I know that money didn’t interest you. You acquired plenty, but only so you could be frozen. What you did was very smart. You learned things that people of the future would want to know. What you had in your head was true wealth. But wealth as you knew it no longer exists…

“You have a powerful imagination, Drake. Imagine this. Imagine resurrecting somebody who proves to be a money-hungry fanatic — someone who was once very rich, expects to be rich now, and hopes to receive special

treatment simply because of that. Such people almost surely know nothing of interest to us. How could they be anything but miserable today?”

“You’re saying it’s becoming less and less likely that someone will be resurrected. So why are the cryowombs maintained?”

“What else can we do with them?” Ana shook her head in frustration. “The people in the wombs are legally dead, but because they can be resurrected we cannot think of them as dead. So what do we do? We do nothing, and pass the problem to our descendants.”

She was sitting in the pilot’s seat of a two-person ship, and now she stabbed at the control panel. “Don’t give us too much credit, Drake,” she said, as they lifted from Pluto’s craggy surface. “People haven’t changed at all. When it comes to making tough decisions, we’re no better now than we were in your time.”

People haven’t changed. Perhaps not, but other things certainly had. The evidence that Ana was both right and wrong began to appear as the ship cruised closer to the Sun. It was her idea to introduce Drake to the new solar system in a practical way, by visiting or passing close to every planet and major moon, then heading out for the remoter and less familiar region of the Oort Cloud. It had been Drake’s idea to use the small two-person ship, and leave their Servitors behind on Pluto until they returned.

Ana had also preferred a leisurely tour, one that would give them time to talk and Drake time to adjust. On their two-day journey to Neptune he decided that he was going to need all of it. Ana had stated that people had not changed. But what were people?

He had called for information about Neptune, and now he was staring at the three-dimensional image in the ship’s display. It showed a large silvery superspider, fourteen multijointed legs emerging from a smooth central ovoid. The object was described as an “inhabitant of Neptune.”

“What does it mean, ‘inhabitant’?” He turned for the fiftieth time to Ana for assistance. “That suggests I’m looking at something intelligent, something that lives on Neptune. I thought that was impossible.”

After the first few hours, he had stopped puzzling over the mysteries of language. Another sea change in communications technology had occurred since Par Leon’s and Trismon Morel’s time. The old languages, filled with their magical resonances of old times and beauties, still existed; but a new language, pruned of ambiguities and redundancies, had been created.

It was much preferred for factual transfers of information, and he and Ana were using it now. Misunderstanding in the new language, according to Ana, was almost impossible.

Maybe. But Drake, approaching communication with a context that was thirty thousand years out of date, suspected that he was coming perilously close.

“That’s a Neptune dweller all right.” Ana did not share his misgivings or confusion. “Of course, it’s not an organic form — we may have evolved organic forms by now that can survive on Neptune, but I don’t know what they are. That’s an inorganic form, and it operates deep enough in the Neptune atmosphere to be buoyant and mobile.”

“But it says there, male human .”

“Correct. That means it’s a fully human male intelligence, downloaded to a brain of inorganic form. If it were anything different, it would say ‘human-modified,’ or ‘human-augmented.’ ”

“How can you say a downloaded intelligence is human? That thing is nothing like a human.”

“That argument ended a long time ago. Or let’s just say, people gave up on it. Can you define a human? I know I can’t. It says it’s human, that Neptune dweller. That’s good enough for me.”

“But what happened to the original human being?”

“I don’t know. I expect he’s around somewhere close by — on the big moon, Triton, more than likely. Neptune has been developed in a very natural way. There are colonies of humans and machines on Triton, and even a few on Nereid, though that doesn’t have much to offer. The planet hardly needs human intelligence at all. There are plenty of Von Neumanns.” She laughed at the look on Drake’s face. “No, I don’t mean the downloaded person. He died before cryocorpses. Von Neumanns are just self-reproducing machines.”

“How many of them are on Neptune?”

“Millions? Billions? I have no idea. I doubt if anyone does, since they’re self-reproducing. They’re mining volatiles and collecting the rare heavier elements, and they manage very well on their own. The human Neptunians are not there for supervision. They have other reasons: to satisfy their curiosity, to experiment with extreme forms, or to maintain some privacy.”

Neptune has been developed in a very natural way. Drake, peering down through endless kilometers of hydrogen and helium atmosphere smudged with icy methane clouds, could see no evidence of development; but according to Ana and the ship’s information service, Neptune beneath those cloud layers swarmed with the spin-offs of human activity, with machines capable of independent activity like humans, and with humans that seemed more like machines.