“I've never bought into the idea that aliens will have indecipherable motives. Which makes it odd that you feel differently.” I smiled at Bill, to take the sting out of the comment. “Things like curiosity, greed, self-interest, self-preservation, anger, fear… all of these are pretty basic pro-survival tropisms.”
“Sure, but that doesn't make their behavior predictable from our point of view. For instance, a more herd or hive oriented species might not have greed, or not as much anyway. A more predatory species might consider biting you to be a reasonable response to a disagreement.”
“The Xin,” I said, grinning.
“Or Pav,” Bill responded. “Because of their large family structure, they certainly have a different take on life.”
“But it's comprehensible, isn’t it?” I argued. “We humans might not live that way, or want to, but we can understand the motivations of the Pav. Same with Xinthi or Klingons.”
“In this case, we think this might be a semi-aquatic species, like beavers or otters. How will that affect their attitudes?”
Bill shrugged without comment. I was really sure I was right, but we wouldn't know until we figured out how to get in.
I grinned at the traditional catcalls and jeers as Bill try to get control of the moot. I noted though, several pockets of Bobs that weren't participating in the ribaldry. This included a half dozen or so Bobs dressed up as Borg, as well as other groups are mostly still look like the original Bob. This reticence seemed uncharacteristic for Bobs, although I thought the Borg might be just trying to stay in character.
As I looked around, I realized that there was a certain amount of miscellaneous cosplay going. Nothing really out there - at least not yet, I admitted to myself. As replicative drift continued, I expected individuals would become bolder.
Bill seem to have sufficiently dampened the flames of rebellion, and he began to talk. Well, shout.
“Okay people, we have an update on the snarks. I think you'll find this all interesting. We’ll also be asking for help from anyone who cares to volunteer. There are some technical hurdles that could use some dog piling.” He waited for the anatomical suggestions from the audience to peter out, then turned and gestured to me.
I climbed the podium to more shouted suggestions, and grinned at the sea of faces. Those of you who were around for the others reveal will feel a bit of déjà vu, I think, but in this case we aren't at war, so that's a plus.” I waited for the razzing to subside. “So first, here's a native Snark.” I auto-piloted through the presentation of the megastructure residence while mentally reviewing the upcoming second part of my presentation. As usual, the Bobs were respectful and quiet when interesting information was being presented. Then came the second part.
I started with an overview of the topopolis, during which you could've heard a pin drop. I followed with close-up rotation scans, and ended with blueprints of the megastructure entrance mechanisms. As I finished, and my voice petered out, there was a moment of silence, an in-drawn collective breath, then… pandemonium.
Bill laughed out loud as he jumped up onto the podium. Nothing got Bobs excited like interesting new stuff. And nothing felt better than a bunch of excited enthusiastic Bobs. Even the Borg cosplayers were jumping up and down.
“So here's what we need,” I said, when the hubbub had died down. “We need a group to work on plans for getting into the megastructure without revealing ourselves. We need a group to work on android design for Snarks, based on the scans we have, to be improved on once we get close-up scans. We need a group to continue to scan the megastructure to see if there are variations in either engineering of the structure itself, or the placement, or technological level of the inhabitants, or any other variations you might find. It's a billion freaking miles of structure, so the more the merrier. And as an ongoing project, we’ll want people to help decipher the language and culture.”
And… more pandemonium.
I glanced surreptitiously at the group that Bill had identified as Starfleet. To a man, they were silent. With dour expressions on their faces.
“We’re in business,” Bill said. More volunteers than available positions. The Skippies have agreed to do language analysis, as you'd hoped. The hardware group that was working on giant robot spaceships has already dropped their project in favor of the android design. Interestingly, the Borg wanted in, too. I think there’s something about androids that tickles their fancy. And there’s a D&D obsessed group, calls themselves Gamers, that wants to work on the breaking in thing.”
“Why?” I asked, frowning.
“Don’t ask me. By about 20th gen or so, individual motivation stops being predictable, even when they're still mostly Bobs.”
“So, Starfleet didn't squawk.”
“I don't think they saw any point. Even if they could've gotten a word in edgewise, they wouldn’t have accomplished anything except getting themselves shouted down. But,” Bill hesitated, frowned, and gazed at me intently. “That doesn't mean they're just going to fold. Original Bob wouldn't have, so we have to keep our guard up.”
At that moment, Garfield popped into my library. “Hey Bill. Bob.” He signaled Jeeves for a coffee, grabbed Spike, and sat down with the cat in his lap. Spike, as usual, was purring before Garfield even started patting her. I couldn’t help smiling. Original Spike had been like that. The exact opposite of a standoffish snobby cat. I remembered all the times she would climb me as I sat at my computer, then drape herself across the back of my neck. I’d left that last habit out of the cat’s AI. It had literally been a bit of a pain in the neck.
Garfield was excited about something.
“What?” I said.
“Well, we've agreed we will have to be more careful than Jacques was about the drones. The Pav were truly 18th to 19th century equivalent. If they'd seen something, they would've just assumed it was
