‘That’s what the freethinkers are for,’ Friland said. ‘And, to a lesser degree, the police such as yourself. All societies should include a mechanism for self-correction.’
‘You’re distracting me,’ Paula said. ‘Why the split with the New Immortals?’
‘Very well,’ Friland said. ‘I owe you of all people that explanation, if nothing else.’
‘How ironic for you, having to explain yourself to your creation.’
‘I’m not a Frankenstein, Investigator.’
‘Of course not. The split?’
‘Firstly, the prospect of a hive mind is one I resist. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t regard it as a human goal. Yet there is that danger. Svein knows that you need more than two bodies to guarantee life-continuity. The more you have, the higher the personality’s survival probability. There is no theoretical limit. He can possess hundreds, thousands of bodies. More still. Exponential growth rates are a favourite politician’s scare image, and I don’t like to use it, but something close to exponential expansion is a very real threat in this case. What happens to individual, normal, humans, if a New Immortal expands its nest of selves? An Immortal by his or her nature becomes focused on survival. That will trigger competition for resources, possibly as bad as it was in the twenty- first century before Ozzie and Nigel developed wormhole technology. Would the singulars survive? Would they be allowed to survive? And what about other nest Immortals? One route is merger. The universal monomind. Again, something I instinctively shy away from. Svein was not complimentary about what he perceives as my outdated reactionary thinking.’
‘That must have been painful for you.’
‘Quite. The other problem I have is the method which the New Immortals have chosen. It is not pure genetic evolution, which is our creed.’
‘Now you’ve really lost me.’
‘If you have children, Investigator, they will remain true to your nature. They will inherit the genetic and psychoneural profiling that make you the perfect law enforcement officer. We fixed the traits which make you what you are, they are dominant. Even if all our fabulous society should fall, if the wormholes are closed, the factories break down, electricity cease to flow; if the human race enters into a new age of barbarism — what the Foundation created will remain. Our heritage is written in our genes. When we define an advancement, we incorporate it in our DNA. It can never be lost. An equal science can remove it, but our advances would endure a dark age. Svein’s system will not. He shares his thoughts and memories with his other bodies via the unisphere. He needs OCtattoos and inserts to transmit and receive. He needs clone vats to grow new bodies. His is a cybernetic, technological, future. It is a very short step from what he wishes to become, and simply downloading your thoughts into a machine like today’s uniheads do with the SI. After all, a machine can be made far stronger than human flesh. This is not the route I wish the Foundation to go down. At the far end, it is not a human outcome which awaits.’
‘Surely that’s all contrary to the stasis of Huxley’s Haven?’
‘The Haven provides us with a proof of concept. We know we can match our genetic and societal requirements synergistically. That sets the stage for our next advances.’
‘Which are?’ she asked sharply.
‘Development along all fronts. Extreme longevity — ultimately self-rejuvenation. Increased intelligence. Huge disease resistance.’
‘Bigger. Stronger. Better,’ she murmured.
‘Yes. These advances are slowly seeping into the human genome. Parents have baseline procedures carried out on their embryos to give their offspring healthier physiques. Reprofiling is commonplace in rejuvenation tanks, at least for those who can afford it. We are a slow revolution, Paula. People find our long-term aims uncomfortable, but they continue to incorporate our immediate successes into their very selves. Given such development, society will inevitably adapt and evolve. Which is why I reject the obsessional goal of the New Immortals. I will happily continue my rejuvenation treatments every thirty years because they will ultimately be temporary. In four or five hundred years’ time, I will be beginning my senior lifespan, which will be measured in millennia. Can you imagine what kind of culture that will play host to?’
‘Even if I could, I obviously wouldn’t have a place in it. I’m just a halfway stage experiment, remember.’
‘Oh no, Paula, you’ve become much more than that. You’ve humbled us by showing how adaptive humanity is. You are an inspiration that we can all exceed our perceived limits.’
‘How very lovely for you,’ she said acerbically, and stood up.
Justin Friland looked up at her. ‘What will you do to Svein Moalem now you know what he is?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied truthfully. ‘I’m sure I’ll
He smiled sadly. ‘We’re not adversaries, Paula, not you and me.’
‘Not yet. Not quite. But keep on going the way you are, and we’ll wind up facing each other in court. The Senate has strict laws concerning genetic manipulation outside designated human parameters.’
‘I know. And I’m very tired of them, which is why we’re finally leaving altogether.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you going to Isolate another world?’
‘No, we don’t have to. The Commonwealth is desperate to make a success of Far Away; the Senate spent so much money getting there they have to justify it to the taxpayer. It’s a blank canvas of a world, thanks to the solar flare that eliminated its indigenous life. My remaining colleagues are moving there with me. The Senate’s authority and its laws are confined to one city; out in the wild we’ll be free of the petty regulations that restrict us here, and we can design a new biosphere environment to complement whatever enhancements we build into our bodies. The ultimate synergy, eh?’
‘That sounds like a project that will keep you occupied for a few decades.’
‘We would be honoured if you’d join us. You would be an enormously valuable asset to any community, Paula.’
‘Thank you, but no. I have work to do in this society.’ She started towards the door.
‘There could be tens of him by now,’ Friland called out after her. ‘You’ll never get them all.’
‘Nonetheless, he will face justice. You know that. That’s how you made me.’
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
The countryside outside Baransly was certainly a lot more hospitable in summer. A warm G-class star shone in a deep ocean-blue sky. High wispy clouds laced the horizon ahead as Paula walked down the narrow farm track that cut through the big fields, pushing her lightweight p-bike over the scattered stone. The air was thick and warm, heavy with the sugary scent of the fireflower vine. She knew the name now. It was the district’s main crop. In the summer’s warmth and humidity the rows of wire frames were transformed into long dunes of vivid crimson flowers with thick yellow stamen. Petals were already starting to crisp and brown at the edges as midsummer approached; in another month the fruit would ripen to fist-sized globes a dull purple in colour. The pulp was a local staple, equivalent to meatpotato; though the fruit could be crushed for oil as well.
She reached the concrete road at the end of the track, and straddled the p-bike. There was no traffic. She twisted the throttle, and set off towards Baransly’s outskirts, five miles ahead.
The city’s traffic management network was still functioning. It registered her p-bike as she crossed into the official city boundary. By now she was on Route Two, one of the main highways into the city, with the mid- afternoon traffic starting to build up around her. She told the network she wanted Lislie Road, and received a route authorization. Her vehicle licence had been accepted as current.
Lislie Road was in the middle of a pleasant residential suburb, with small dome-roofed houses grown out of air coral. Paula turned off the tree-shaded road itself onto the broad pavement, and started pedalling the p-bike. That way she was no longer monitored by the traffic network. She stopped outside number 62, and wheeled the p- bike up to the front door. It accepted the code she put in, and swung open for her.
Nelson Sheldon had paid Terrie Ority, the previous occupant, a handsome sum for his codes; just as he’d paid another Merioneth refugee for a bike licence. The preparations had taken over a month. Paula and Nelson had
