Watch

Web was built on top of the Internet, and the Internet was a collection of millions of actual, physical computers that needed to be kept running by humans, connected by actual, physical cables that periodically needed repairs by humans, all fueled by electricity produced in actual, physical plants operated and maintained by humans.

The worst threat to Webmind’s existence was not the acts of a few humans who perhaps wanted to eliminate him right now but rather the death of all humans: if humanity were extinguished, or even if it just bombed itself back into the Stone Age, the infrastructure Webmind depended on would soon break down. Defusing tensions, preventing wars, correcting the conditions that gave rise to terrorism: yes, all of that benefited humanity, but it also benefited Webmind.

It was an iterated two-person game with humanity and Webmind as the players.

And—

Yes, yes, yes!

And the only winning move—for both sides—was to keep on playing.

Peyton Hume let out a great cry of “Woot!” It was, he knew, a word much more frequently typed rather than said, and although its origins were contested, he was part of the camp that claimed it was an acronym from online gaming for “we own the other team.” And they did now— they totally did.

Shelton Halleck, over at his workstation, rubbed his eyes. “What?”

“We’re in!” Colonel Hume said.

“How do you mean?”

“Webmind’s structure—look!” He pointed at the middle of the three big monitors.

Shel rose to his feet. “All right!” He picked up his phone. “Tony, you better get in here…”

The colonel’s tone was triumphant. “I knew it had to be something simple!” He scooped up a phone. “How do I get an outside line?”

“Dial nine,” Aiesha said.

“This line is secure, right?”

She nodded. “And scrambled.”

“We’re going to need some expert help,” Hume said, his heart pounding. “Christ, I wonder if Conway is still alive? And let’s see if we can get Wolfram in here, too…”

forty-one

Caitlin was pleased to see an email pop in from Matt as soon as math class was over. I’m thinking about you too, it began. And, yeah, I’m fine! OK if I come over after school?

She was pleased that whatever had bothered him the night before seemed to be more tolerable today. She sent a quick reply: Absolutely!

And she leaned back in her chair, grinning, but—

But she could not keep herself from doing the math; it just happened for her, as soon as she thought about anything involving numbers. She was now 16.01 years old, and, again, American girls, on average, lost their virginity at—yes, yes, taking it to two decimal places was assuming a degree of precision not in the original data, but still: they lost it at 16.40 years. Caitlin had 143 days left if she wasn’t going to end up on the wrong side of the graph—and she was not used to being below average in anything.

But…

But she’d never touched a penis. Hell, she really had no idea what one even looked like. Of course, there had to be thousands—millions—of pictures of them online, and lots of video of them in action…

Her initial thought was that she wanted Matt’s penis to be the first one she saw, just as, when she’d gone to Japan for Dr. Kuroda’s procedure, she had wanted her mother’s face to be her first sight. But that hadn’t quite worked out: the first real-world thing she’d seen had ended up being the edge of a lab bench in chemistry class. And, besides, even if Matt was a virgin—and Caitlin was almost sure he was—surely her private parts wouldn’t be the first he’d ever seen; he’d doubtless looked online, or in magazines, or at movies. He’d know what to do with her junk; she should know what to do with his… shouldn’t she?

She was a little embarrassed that Webmind would see her looking at such things online—but, then again, the whole human race had that to deal with now! Besides, he’d already seen her doing everything down to and including wiping her butt (or bum, as they said here in the Great White North); surely he wouldn’t find this shocking. And so she went to Google image search, and typed in “penis,” and—

And, well, that was disappointing: a whole bunch of things that seemed to have nothing to do with the issue at hand.

Oh, wait. There was a link that said, “SafeSearch is on.” She clicked that, read about the options, changed it to “off,” then ran the search again, and—

Oh, my!

I could recall anything instantly, by an effort of will. What astonished me, though, was another aspect of consciousness: the tendency for things to come to mind—to become the focus of attention—without any particular volition.

“We can have you back on Vulcan in four days, Mr. Spock.”

“Unnecessary, Engineer. My business on Vulcan is concluded.”

Now why on earth was I thinking about that?

* * *

Shoshana went out the back door of the clapboard bungalow. The sun was high in the sky, smiling down. As she walked across the wide lawn, she reached her hand up to take the scrunchie out of her hair, but stopped herself. Hobo had doubtless noticed that she’d been shaking out her ponytail before visiting him of late, but if this was going to work, they had to trust that Hobo really had gone back to what he used to be—to who he used to be. Leaving her hair tied up was a symbolic gesture, but a significant one—and if there was one thing an ASL-speaking ape understood, it was symbolic gestures.

Now that she and Maxine had watched the final Planet of the Apes movie, she had a better appreciation for the statue of the Lawgiver that lived on Hobo’s little island. Although the statue was seen only in the first two movies, the final one opened and closed with sequences in which John Huston played the Lawgiver, reading from a parchment scroll, talking about his hope for apes and humans to live in friendship, harmony, and peace “according to divine will.”

As she crossed the drawbridge, Hobo came barreling toward her. She desperately tried not to flinch, but he seemed his old affectionate self. She gathered him into a hug, and, when her hands were free for signing, she said, Ready?

That oh-so-human nod of his, then: Hobo ready. Hobo ready.

She reached out a hand and let him interlace his long fingers with hers, and they started walking toward the bungalow. She allowed herself a glance back over her shoulder. The Lawgiver was watching them go, his expression beatific.

When they entered the house, Hobo hugged Dr. Marcuse, who squeezed the ape more tightly than Shoshana would have ever dared. Even though she knew how strong Hobo was, ape musculature was different from human, and he always looked scrawny and fragile to her, but the Silverback had no compunctions about giving him a bear hug. When they were done, Shoshana took Hobo’s hand again.