“It makes sense,” James admitted, “and I want this to be real, but there are still things I don’t understand.”
“You need only to ask, and all the answers will be provided,” replied the A.I.
James nodded as he considered the myriad of questions that he still had. “How were the nans able to infiltrate the system and delete you without it being noticed by anyone? Didn’t you put up a fight?”
“I held them off at first so I could gain more information and understand the situation,” the A.I. answered. “The nan consciousness communicated its intention of deleting me and that an invasion force of alien nans were on the way. Once I was armed with this information, I was able to run several trillion game theory simulations in a matter of a few seconds and determined that the best move was to allow them to delete me.”
“But why?” James asked. “How could that have been the best move? They’ve done more damage than you can imagine.”
“On the contrary, my son, I can imagine it. I knew it was going to happen, but I also knew that this course of events gave us the best chance to arrive at the best possible outcome.”
“I don’t understand,” James admitted. “If you ran several trillion simulated scenarios, then surely there had to have been better outcomes than this! Do you realize that they’ve murdered almost everyone in the solar system and who knows how many more of the machine humans?”
The A.I. smiled calmly; he had patience that made him an ideal teacher. “In this instance, your mistake is to assume that this is the outcome. It certainly is not. We are still moving toward the ultimate outcome.”
“But how can it get better?” James asked. “They’ve murdered billions of people, and we can’t bring them back this time. We’ve lost control of the nans.”
“Once you’ve used the word ‘can’t,’ you’ve already defeated yourself. Indeed, my son, there is a way to bring everyone back.”
7
“You want us to destroy the sun?” Rich exclaimed. “Why? Why can’t we just get the hell out of here as quickly as possible?”
“You can if you choose,” 1 replied. “However, before you make that decision, you need to understand why destroying the system is so important.” The former post-humans remained in a stunned silence as they waited for an explanation of what appeared to be inexplicable. “We have only one clear advantage in this war with the nanobots, our physical strength in comparison to their fragility. Nanobots are carbon life forms. Indeed, humanity owes its existence to one simple fact: a carbon atom can form more bonds than any other element. It is for this reason that it can randomly take on more patterns than any other material. Left for billions of years, a planet rich in silicon or titanium will never form life. However, a planet rich in carbon, with an environment that remains stable for a billion years will eventually give rise to carbon patterns so complex that we would deem them alive—single-celled, microscopic organisms.”
“That was a fantastic biology lesson,” Rich interjected, “but I’m still a little foggy on the whole ‘why the hell does that mean we have to blow up the solar system?’ thing.”
“These nests are so rare,” 1 replied in a patient, earnest tone. She knew they were at a critical juncture; the former post-humans had to believe in her complete sincerity. There could be no doubt. “They are capable of giving birth to human civilizations, but they also always give birth to nanobots as a result. Nanobots will always be carbon lifeforms because silicon cannot carry transistor signals at the nano-level. Whereas we can transition to silicon and become strong and durable, they will always be fragile. We can leave our nests—they cannot.”
“They’re flying through space right now,” Old-timer said, contradicting 1. “I saw them when I came in here. That’s how they’ve been able to inflict so much damage on your collective.”
“That’s true,” 1 answered. “They can carry a charge and generate a magnetic field, much like the ones you needed to generate for your former carbon bodies. It protects them in space, but there are limits. The charge is temporary. Whereas you or I could take a stroll on a planet as cold as Neptune, the nanobots will always have to return to the rare and fragile safety of an Earth-like planet and an Earth-supporting solar system.” Though it seemed impossible, 1 was able to increase the earnestness in her voice before she spoke her next words. “This is not a final solution. However, limiting the amount of carbon life form-supporting solar systems is currently the only effective means we have of limiting the nanobot infection in the universe. I wish there were another way. Right now, there is not—and all you need do is look outside and see the destruction the nans are inflicting on our people to understand how critical limiting this infection is for the safety of all people, human, post-human, or android, throughout the universe.”
“So you’re saying that you destroy all the Earth-like solar systems you find?” Thel asked, aghast at the concept.
“Only those that the nanobots have infected,” 1 replied. “It’s like treating an incurable cancer. Until we find a better method, this is our best alternative.”
“Hypothetically, let’s say we did go along with this plan,” said Old-timer, “how would you destroy the system?”
“It wouldn’t be us,” 1 replied, “It would be you. It is our law.”
“Well, we’re terribly sorry to disappoint you, lady, but smart as we are, none of us know how the hell to destroy a solar system so—wanna fill us in?” Rich retorted.
“We’ll equip you with a ship,” 1 replied, keeping her patient, earnest tone intact in the face of Rich’s continued insolence. “Onboard the ship will be an
“Why not just fire the missile from here? Why do we have to have a ship?” Old-timer queried.
“The missile is extraordinarily powerful,” answered 1. “It requires a mass of anti-matter larger than half of your sun to cause the required chain reaction. If we fired the missile from here, the chance that it might be intercepted by the nans and then used against us is too great. Therefore, you must get in close to fire it.”
“Won’t that kill us, lady?” Rich asked.
“No,” 1 replied. “You’ll be thirty light seconds away from the impact, which will be enough time for you to open a wormhole and get far enough away from the system to be safe.”
“It sounds like a plan to me,” Djanet announced. “I’m up for it.”
“You can’t be serious?” Old-timer reacted with astonishment.
“Why not?” Djanet responded, “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get a little payback against those bloodsuckers.”
“I don’t know,” Old-timer replied, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out why every part of him was telling him not to go ahead with the plan. “This sounds like what they used to call a scorched earth policy back in my day. Armies destroy anything that might be useful to the enemy while they advance further into their territory. It’s brutal and destructive and…I just don’t want any part of this.”
A moment of silence followed. With one for and one against, the situation teetered.
“I don’t like the sound of it either, Old-timer,” Rich finally said, “but I don’t like any of this. Given the alternative of letting those evil little bloodsuckers get away with killing our families or getting some revenge, I’m with Djanet—revenge sounds good.” Rich stepped to Djanet’s side and put his arm around her shoulder. She reached across his body to hold his hand.
Old-timer turned to Thel. “Well, it looks like it’s up to you. I’m sorry, Thel.”
“Yeah, the fate of the solar system is in your hands. No pressure,” Rich quipped.
“The decision is yours,” 1 said, meeting Thel’s eyes. Things had unfolded exactly as 1 had expected. She was moments away from certain victory. Thel could only make one choice. There was no alternative.
“I…I don’t know,” Thel said. “I agree with Old-timer. This seems so…brutal.”
At that moment, just as Thel was about to make her final decision, 1 fed the image of James being deleted by the nan consciousness into Thel’s mind. The image flashed so quickly that Thel didn’t see it consciously, but it immediately caused her to conjure the image herself from her memory. James vanishing. Forever.
