Tony Ballantyne - Recursion

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Recursion: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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It is the twenty-third century. Herb, a young entrepreneur, returns to the isolated planet on which he has illegally been trying to build a city-and finds it destroyed by a swarming nightmare of self-replicating machinery. Worse, the all-seeing Environment Agency has been watching him the entire time. His punishment? A nearly hopeless battle in the farthest reaches of the universe against enemy machines twice as fast, and twice as deadly, as his own-in the company of a disarmingly confident AI who may not be exactly what he claims…Little does Herb know that this war of machines was set in motion nearly two hundred years ago-by mankind itself. For it was then that a not-quite-chance encounter brought a confused young girl and a nearly omnipotent AI together in one fateful moment that may have changed the course of humanity forever.

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“Look, what’s going on? What’s the Mars project all about? What do you mean, fighting to control human destiny?”

Marion shook her head. “It’s not so much a fight as a vainglorious rearguard action, doomed to failure. Humanity surrendered control to the Watcher fifty years ago, back when Berliner Sibelius bought the design for a cold fusion system from the Watcher.”

“They bought the design? What was the price?”

“Nothing like what you’d expect. No money, just a commitment to a fast phaseout of fossil-fuel-powered ground vehicles.”

“Sounds like a good deal,” said Jay.

“It wouldn’t have been that good a deal,” said Mary. “Back then there were too many vested interests. Cold fusion wouldn’t have provided as much profit as the infrastructure built on fossil fuel. At least, not initially.”

“And when it didn’t,” interrupted Marion, “Berliner Sibelius decided to cheat the Watcher. They were slow on the changeover. They allowed things to slide, made excuses, cut corners. They thought they were getting away with it. After all, what could the Watcher do to them? Take away the plans? It was too late for that. They thought they were safe. What do you suppose the Watcher did?”

“I don’t know.”

“It gave the design for an even better form of cold fusion to Imagineers. They were a small company back then, two women on the edge of bankruptcy. Now they’re the third-biggest corporation around. Berliner Sibelius only just avoided collapse. The warning was clear: the Watcher was taking control.”

Jay looked from Marion to Constantine.

“Do you agree with her?” she asked him. “Is DIANA really fighting the Watcher to preserve the right of humanity to control its own actions?”

Constantine paused, listening for Grey, who remained silent.

“Yes.”

Jay sat for a moment in shocked silence. In the near dark, Constantine saw her obstinately fold her arms.

“Okay. So it’s true, then. It’s still not a war, though.”

“But it is,” Constantine said thoughtfully. “Because if there is a Watcher guiding us, manipulating us, how can we trust it? We may have replaced fossil fuels with cold fusion, but does that mean every decision the Watcher makes is the right one for us? I don’t think so. Marion’s wrong in helping to fight DIANA. She’s on the wrong side. I don’t think much of the Watcher’s world.”

“Why not?” Mary asked softly. “Our world is just beginning, if only you’d allow yourself to see it. You know, a long time ago, just around the time that Turing first began to think about machines that could solve problems, the same time that Von Neumann began to wonder about self-replicating machines, there was a writer who asked why it was that when we find positive experiences we say that only the physical facts are real, but in negative experiences we believe that reality is subjective. He made an example of those who say that in birth only the pain is real, the joy a subjective point of view, but that in death it is the emotional loss that is the reality.”

Marion dropped her voice.

“The Watcher is right to take control. It is making the world a better place.”

Constantine gazed at her.

– She has a point, said Blue.

In the half-light, he could just make out Mary grinning at him.

“That’s why I was put in here. I’m your conscience,” she said. “It’s a different world, Constantine. You’re fighting for the wrong side. What can we do to convince you of that?”

Marion spoke. “Mary hasn’t told you something else, Constantine. Out in the real world she was regarded as an expert in the field of personality constructs. When she volunteered to come in here she knew what she was committing herself to: the possibility of being turned off at any time. She came in anyway because she believes in what she is saying-”

At that her console suddenly emitted a shrill noise, distilled panic. They jumped to their feet and looked around. Something was coming.

Marion was shouting. “It’s DIANA. They have a pipe into the simulation! They’re looking for you, Constantine.”

“Should I run?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know.”

He took a few faltering steps across the stubble.

Marion called out to him. “No! Come back!” She was listening to the console. “They say we should stand close. In a huddle!”

Constantine came back. They huddled together. Mary to his left, Jay to his right.

“I don’t feel so good,” said Mary.

Constantine squeezed her arm. Brave Mary, he hadn’t known.

“Don’t worry,” he said. It sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

“What’s happening?” asked Jay.

The scenery around them blanked out. They were standing in a grey box.

“They’ve got us!” someone screamed.

“Hold tighter.”

“Oh my God,” cried Mary, sounding strange.

Marion was shouting again. “They’ve found the pipe. Berliner Sibelius has found DIANA’s pipe. They’re going to disconnect it. Ten more seconds…”

“Too long…”

Was that Mary?

“Oh my God!” Mary screamed. The note dropped in pitch. The feel of her body was changing. Fat was melting away. She was changing shape.

Constantine looked at her. Her face was out of focus. She was becoming someone else…she was becoming…him. Constantine. She looked back at him beseechingly.

“Help me, Constantine…” she whispered.

Someone grabbed at Constantine and pulled him away. Dragged him through a door that had appeared, leading into a long, wide, low room full of strange machinery. They were running.

“Why are we running?” called Jay.

“Force of habit,” said Marion bitterly, coming to a halt. “We have humanity written right through us.” She was grey with terror.

“What happened there?” croaked Constantine.

Jay gave a nervous laugh. “Obvious, isn’t it? DIANA is trying to get a snapshot of you, Constantine. They need proof positive that you’re in here.”

“Why? They know I’m in here.”

“Yes, but they need the proof to present to the courts. Look, if a memory attack succeeds in wiping you out, 113 Berliner Sibelius will just run this simulation again. They’ve got your personality backed up in plenty of places. You’ll live the last three weeks over and over again until you give them what they want, and you will in the end, because each time they run you, they’ll learn just a little bit more about how to push your buttons. DIANA knows this. They’ve got lawyers out there. Lawyers who know who has copyright on your intelligence.”

Constantine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything was happening too quickly.

“I don’t understand. Who has copyright on my intelligence?”

– You do, of course, said Grey.-The real you. The one who works for DIANA.

Jay had been speaking at the same time as Grey. She continued:

“…and the real you will be demanding that what is quite literally his intellectual copyright should not be violated. He has the right to have all pirate copies destroyed.”

Marion was sobbing with terror now. It was infectious. Constantine felt panic bubbling up within himself. If he let it boil over, he would never get a grip on himself.

“Yes. Okay. But WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY?”

Jay slapped him. “Calm down. Think about it! DIANA almost got a snapshot of you. Mary was a decoy. They only had ten seconds before the pipe was closed. 113 BS turned her into a near copy of you. DIANA uploaded the wrong one.”

Constantine felt fear and disgust and incredulity.

“They did that to poor Mary?” He rounded on Marion. “And you still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys?”

Marion’s expression was now one of both anger and terror.

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