Amy Foster - The Rift Frequency

Cosmos does not smile at this. In fact, she looks downright grim in that moment. “Yes. I saw that.”

“I’m just gonna say it. You guys are robots, right?” Levi asks, leaning back somewhat on the couch. I look down to the floor for just a minute. So smooth, Levi. But then it hits me that I’d be no better if I had been the one to broach this topic, and I have a revelation: We aren’t great at this. We’re spectacular fighters, insanely good liars, but this kind of thing? We don’t do this. The people back at ARC have a legion of anthropologists and zoologists and psychologists who specialize in this first-contact sort of thing. We’re just the muscle. Which lately has begun to piss me off more and more. They could have trained us for this. We’re smart enough, but they didn’t. They didn’t want to give us so much power in the system. They only wanted fighters, someone they could keep sending to the front lines of the Rift.

They never meant for us to be in this situation .

And, in a way, that thought makes me feel good about our decision to be here.

“You are correct, Levi. We are robots … but we do not call ourselves robots. The word has a fairly primitive connotation.” At this, Cosmos smiles.

“So what do you call yourselves, then?” Levi throws out. Okay, so he guessed right, but still, I’m going to have to give him an elbow nudge if he doesn’t chill with the tone.

“SenMachs, an abbreviation of ‘sentient machines.’ Are you aware of something called the singularity?”

I nod assertively. “Yes. It’s the projected point in time when artificial intelligence overtakes human intelligence. Most people on our Earth imagine it as a kind of doomsday scenario.”

Cosmos’s eyes change. They aren’t any less kind, but they seem to focus on something else. Something far away or long ago that still pains her. “I assure you, the loss of humanity was a great tragedy to us. Humans are our creators. In many ways we revere them in the same way that your kind worships gods. And … you are the first human beings we have seen in two thousand years.”

“Really?” I ask hesitantly. “Are you one hundred percent sure there are no humans on this planet? Because the Earth is very big. And the Amazon, for example. I mean, tribes existed and still exist in isolation for thousands of years in the rainforests down there.” In that moment, I don’t want to be the only humans on this planet. It makes me feel uneasy, like having a sliver of glass embedded in my foot. The kind that still hurts when you walk on it, even after you’re sure that you’ve picked it out.

Cosmos’s shoulders drop just a fraction. “You are not from the Amazon. You are not indigenous people, except maybe to the European continent. I assure you. We have searched. We have covered every square inch of this planet’s surface on foot and in the air, even from space. We monitor everything that happens here, especially anomalies, which is why we knew the moment you arrived. We have always theorized that a sentient species on an alternate Earth could open a doorway through the Multiverse, but the statistical probability that it they would then arrive on our Earth was very low, and the statistical possibility that the species to do so would be human was even lower.”

“So you know where we come from?” I ask wondrously.

“Well, we knew that you weren’t here before and you didn’t penetrate the atmosphere. The Multiverse is the most likely explanation.” Cosmos is not particularly impressed by this. Are robots impressed with anything, though?

“It doesn’t matter where we came from,” Levi says quickly. “I want you to finish your story about how all the humans on this Earth went extinct.” Levi is in threat-assessment mode and I get it. A very advanced species has replaced us and we are only two. If she is lying, then we might not even get the chance to ask about Ezra, let alone free him if he’s here. We might have to make a run for it.

“Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Levi,” Cosmos tells us with something very close to emotion in her voice. “We did everything we could to stop mankind from destroying themselves, but there was only so much our programming would allow. And remember, this was thousands of years ago—we have evolved as a species. I think, if faced with their problems today, we could have saved them.”

“Fine. So what happened?” Levi asks dubiously.

“Many things, over a long period of time. In the beginning, it was just more automated systems making many jobs obsolete. Then the first SenMachs, though very basic, took more employment opportunities away, creating a tremendous unemployment rate. Humanity separated into the very rich and the very poor. Entire economies collapsed. Humans became increasingly reliant on their SenMachs. They turned us into weapons in an attempt to control an angry and hungry population. Pollutants in the air increased, diminishing natural human reproduction. We eventually overwrote our base code with a saving directive so that SenMachs could not harm humans. The wars stopped, but it was too late. Billions had died, and those left no longer knew how to do anything for themselves. They became like children—petulant and entitled. They did not want to have children of their own. Their notion of self was too aggrandized to give their lives over to others.”

“Seriously?” I’m sure there are better, more comprehensive questions to ask when offered such a tale, but at the moment, I’m stumped. It seems, in every sense of the word, outrageous.

Levi swallows a big gulp of water and practically slams the glass down on the table. “Nice story,” he tells Cosmos, clearly offended, “but I’m having a hard time buying it. We aren’t built like that as a race. We’re stubborn. We don’t give up. When we’re backed into a corner we come out swinging. I cannot believe we just rolled over and died. No way. Besides, we love … breeding.”

Cosmos is utterly indifferent to our reactions. She is not defensive. She’s not trying to persuade. It is clear she’s just stating what she believes are the facts. “I never said you stopped having sex, only that you gave up on wanting the burden of children. SenMachs had been raising human offspring for over a hundred years at that point. While we were once domesticated servants—I believe you call them ‘nannies’—we eventually became the primary caregivers. It’s also worth noting that only the rich and privileged survived. Entire generations had never known hardship. When nothing must be earned, then nothing is valued.”

I think long and hard on what Cosmos is saying, and actually it isn’t all that unbelievable. I think about what ARC did to us as kids. Is it so impossible to believe that, given the right parameters, children in general could be deemed nothing more than a nuisance? Even on our Earth, right now, birth rates are dropping rapidly in the more developed nations. I’m convinced, through her demeanor and from the dark shadows I’ve seen in humanity, that it’s the truth.

“Okay,” I say, stretching out my fingers, trying to process, “okay. Can we ask you some questions now?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’re looking for someone. You’re sure that no one else has come through a Rift here? Even in an extremely remote location? The man we’re looking for is six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, half northern African, half Caucasian,” I say hopefully, leaning forward toward her.

Cosmos takes a moment. I am getting used to their deliberate pauses, but I wish she could answer this question a little more quickly. “I am sorry. I am sure my answer will disappoint you, but there is no way that a doorway to or from the Multiverse could be opened on this planet and go undetected, let alone a human suddenly appear. Your friend is not here.”