Existence

its seed spasm. Sending billions to the stars. By sparking competition among them, we managed to peel back some layers.

“But for years now, Genady and I grew suspicious. Our fomite-specimens were finding ways to communicate and connive behind our backs. Perhaps by embedding coded messages inside the technological blueprints they provided, or in cultural summaries of their ancient parent races. Even during the debates! Somehow, they must have negotiated agreements, setting aside rivalry and joining forces. Prodding and guiding us toward their own goal.”

Gerald nodded. Parasites did this in nature. Viruses and bacteria sometimes acted in concert, helping exploit weakness in a host’s immune system. Opportunism was a fact of organic life. It could be even more fiercely pragmatic when you add feral intelligence.

On most planets, the first space viroids that made it into the hands-or tentacles or pincers-of a young race would use simple imagery and “god” guidance to steer the sapients upward, toward achieving the desired technological capacity. Just enough to make more infectious envoys and spew them across the cosmos. If another local tribe also had a crystal seer of its own, war would likely ensue, till just one clan-and its oracle-remained. At the Artifact Institute, reconstructed histories of Earth and dozens of other worlds all showed this pattern. Apparently, humanity’s violent past wasn’t entirely its own fault.

But sometimes things went differently. When it made sense to do so, fomites could negotiate. Two might join forces against a third, sharing the civilization that resulted and arranging for the eventual “sneeze” to carry several lineages. That might work best when a race was wary and forewarned, as humanity was now.

“You saw last week’s sociometric models? Our best ais calculate we’ve been manipulated for much of the last decade, even as we coerced information out of them. One example is the do-gooder campaign to win ‘human rights for virtual entities,’ even for the artilens who reside inside the viral fomites. Lawsuits aimed at liberating all artilen entities from the Institute’s ‘concentration camp for aliens.’

“Can you imagine letting these things loose upon InterMesh? We’d lose all hope of containing the disease.”

Ben’s image shook its head.

“Now for the really bad news. We traced that whole ‘rights for ersatz aliens’ campaign to a seed- meme that was released five years ago by an old friend of ours. Courier of Caution!

“I know this may be a shock. After all, his people sent him out, along with millions of copies, in order to alert other races! And that aim was probably sincere. But we’ve now verified. His worldstone capsule contains embedded corruptions-viral code that’s woven into its very crystalline structure! Courier’s people thought they were dispatching clean ambassadors. But by adopting the fomites’ technology, they became partners in the infection.

“I tell you, these things are insidious. Their array of tricks is uncanny!”

Gerald exhaled heavily. Genady had already explained these suspicions, before the ibn Battuta left Earth orbit. One reason for bringing a copy of Courier along had been to observe the entity in isolation. Gerald muttered.

“Come on, Ben, I know all this. You were about to explain a new development. Something having to do with Tor Povlov’s discovery?”

This message from Flannery wasn’t semisentient-it couldn’t respond to questions. Still, his anthropologist friend finally got to the point.

“We do have some advantages, though. Any alliance among these fomites will always be fragile. And the present coalition seems to have cracked when we showed them images from the asteroid!

“They know we’ll be getting a lot of additional voices, soon. A big supply of new crystal competitors to question. So many, we can afford to dump any uncooperative artifacts into a hole and forget about them. Because of this, a couple of our current samples-including your old Havana Artifact-are already backstabbing each other, talking about cutting a deal.”

Gerald nodded. Okay, this was good news… so long as Ben and the others remained careful. The ancient space viruses came packed with tricks that had evolved into their molecular structure, across eons. This new stage in the battle of wits-threatening them with new rivals-might serve to peel back another layer or two. But only till the damned things adapted again.

Then it would be back to the long, slow slog. Figuring out how to step a clear and safe path through the Minefield of Existence.

* * *

The second message in his priority queue was from Akana Hideoshi and the team managing Project Look-See. Akana started by congratulating Gerald, Jenny, Ika, and Hiram for their successful operation. Nearly all of the sixty- four sailcraft they launched were now on course. Only one probe had been lost so far, to an accident with tangled shrouds, with no way to recover. Well, this was a learning experience, adapting alien techniques to achieve a different goal. One chosen by humans, not interstellar parasites.

Gerald tried not to think about the crew of that one failed capsule-simulated copies of living human minds, who must now adjust to failure, drifting in space forever with nothing to do but look inward, making the best of simulated reality.

Isn’t that the fate of 99.99-and-so-on percent of crystals that get cast outward?

Still, he shivered at the thought. Death seemed preferable… and so each capsule came equipped with a voluntary self-destruct. Something never seen in alien probes.

As for the other sixty-three, Akana reported that all were proceeding according to plan. From now on, the Donaldson-Chang Telescope-remote controlled from Earth-would occasionally swing to fire a discreet propulsive pulse, secretly helping push each sail outward, targeted for a special zone, a unique region between the orbits of Uranus and Neptune.

It’s a lot of trouble for a simple experiment. One of many we must try. Each offering a small chance of getting what we want.

What we need.

Information. About the current state of the galaxy.

* * *

Saved till last, Gerald opened a high quality, semisentient message, again with an Artifact Institute logo. Only this one came from Emily Tang.

Bursting into vreality above his desk, she still looked as energetic as a teenager, with unabated verve. Emily’s almost-palpable 3-D presence leaned toward Gerald, as if sharing his breath. The way she used to during that first crystal-gathering mission, so long ago.

“Gerald!” her image uttered in a low voice, almost a whisper, her eyes meeting his.

“Have you been following Tor Povlov’s reports? The ancient mummies and all that? Isn’t it amazing? Especially the Mother Probe! An alien machine that built LIVING colonists from a software recipe, in order to settle them on a new world. You know, the ones that were killed before they could inhabit Earth?”

Caught up in her enthusiasm, Gerald nodded, even knowing that the recording was many hours old. She had been like this during the mission, two decades ago, refusing to accept Gerald’s “inclination” excuses, till at last he agreed they’d be lovers, all the way past Mars and back again.

“Yes, Emily, I was as amazed as anybody,” Gerald sighed. “A tragedy. Except, if those colonists succeeded, our species never would’ve evolved.”

The real Emily Tang could only view his comment hours from now. But the semisent had enough built-in response variability to answer him, with a grin that combined indulgence and impatient whimsy.

“Irrelevant! Immaterial. What matters is the technology, Gerald. When you’re out there, grab everything! The artificial wombs that made the colonists. The genetic manipulation equipment. Anything that might