“No,” said Ivan, “this is almost an evolved process. New forms of life are thriving in the RFS all the time. VNMs are abandoned to replicate here unchecked. The errors in progressive generations are not corrected by outside organizations, as they would be in the surveillance world. These venumbs are occurring more and more frequently. No one could have ever thought that VNMs would interact with plants.”
Julian let go of the creature and watched as it scuttled off.
Fiona looked at her watch. “Three more minutes until the plant re-forms. The signaling pulse must have a period of about five minutes thirty-three seconds.”
Her attitude annoyed Eva. “Weren’t you going to tell us what a Conway event is, Ivan?” she said in a loud voice.
“I was…”
“So, where do you live now, Eva?” interrupted Julian.
Ivan gave a shrug. “Excuse me, Eva, I have something I want to try.” He walked off from the group, stamping down the stone steps into the basement where the flower had grown. He was fiddling with the device he had taken from his tool kit.
“Be careful, Ivan!” she called. “They’ll be coming back soon. They will fill that basement with you in it.”
“I will be okay,” said Ivan.
Eva didn’t really blame him for abandoning her.
Julian was staring at her, and she felt some of the old embarrassment at being in company creeping back. She didn’t know what to say, so she answered his question.
“We live in Narkomfin 128. It’s a communal building about fifty kilometers from here.”
Julian tilted his head at that.
“What’s the matter?” asked Eva.
“Oh, nothing.”
“No it’s not. Why do you look like that?”
“No reason,” said Julian, “just silly rumors. Narkomfin 128 is quite well known, isn’t it? There are lot of handicapped people there, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” said Eva, “a lot of incurables. And then there are the elderly, and the alcoholics that don’t want to be cured, and the children with—”
“A lot of MTPH addicts, too, I hear.” For a moment Julian looked as if he was going to say something more, then he thought better of it and changed the subject. “We’re from Saolim. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’ve heard of it,” and at that she relaxed as she saw Ivan come stumping back up the steps.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“Yes.” He gazed blankly down into the dusty pit below.
“Here they come again,” said Fiona.
The tide had turned again. Already silver machines were scuttling back, tumbling down the walls of the basement, heading towards the site of the flower. Ivan wore that sulky look of hurt pride that Eva knew only too well.
“What have you done?” she whispered. Ivan didn’t reply, and Eva realized that she had the eyes of the group fixed upon her.
“Ivan builds robots,” she said, as if that explained everything. For a moment, she felt as if she had to justify his behavior, and maybe excuse him.
More and more VNMs flowed past. They noticed others that were wearing birch jackets.
“A Conway event,” said Ivan suddenly, and to no one in particular, “is named after John Conway’s game of life. In this game, cells operating according to a few simple rules can exhibit incredibly complex behavior. From the early days of their use, it has been noted that VNMs following rules insufficiently defined for their environment can