“Isn't that the point?” a member of the other group said.
“Maybe. But we used to be more.” The deck and gave the other Quinlan a hard look and stalked off. I glanced from the retreating back to the speaker.
The seated Quinlan grinned up at me. “Oldsters are determined to pine for our lost destiny, but this is a good life. What's the point?”
“You mean Quinn?” Bridget asked.
He nodded in reply. “I’m Kar, by the way. This is Malin, Atik, and Tee.” This produced a brief flurry of introductions before Kar continued on what sounded like a speech he had made many times before.
“I have literally never met anyone who was Scattered. Know why? Because most people aren't idiots. From what I learned in school, this is paradise.”
“Or a zoo,” Tee interjected.
“With no gawkers, Tee. I think you need a better metaphor. Meanwhile, there's lots of fish. The weather is predictable. The water is clean. And other than the occasional border dispute, there's no war. As fates go, it doesn't suck.”
This was definitely looking like a well-worn argument, and I was prepared to just sit back and listen, but Bridget wasn't going to be so passive.
“What about the Resistance?”
Kar laughed. Even Tee did a Quinlan eye-roll.
“Oldsters playing at warrior,” Kar said. “There’s nothing to resist. Crew barely exist, not that you'd notice, and if there is a Scattering, not that I have any personal knowledge, mind you, you just wake up and it's done.” He made a negating motion with his hand. “What are they fighting for, anyway? Chase fish, bask in the sun, swim until you're tired, sleep. That's all you need.”
“This guy’s a hippie…” Bill said over the intercom. Than to Kar: “Except for the part about making a family and children.”
“Sure, but do we need towns for even that?” Kar swept his eyes over his audience. “Everything in town is stuff you can get for free. Or stuff you only need because townies say you have to have it. We could get rid of tyrants entirely, and no one would suffer.”
“It would make it pretty hard for us to trade our goods.”
We looked up. It was the same deckhand, come around again in his cycle of chores.
“Slightly different things from upriver or downriver that people want only because they been told it's desirable or better.” Kar was warming to his subject, and still seemed to be in a well-worn groove. I watched his friends as he in the deckhand traded barbs. They didn’t seem surprised or especially concerned about his comments. If anything, their expressions indicated agreement, to the extent they cared at all. The argument soon died down, as the deckhand wasn't being paid to stand around - a fact made loudly clear by someone who was probably the captain. He moved off to his next assignment, and Kar laid back to catch some rays.
“That's interesting,” Bridget said over the intercom as we closed our eyes and pretended to doze. “And not entirely unexpected. Civilization and technology are methods of controlling the environment to increase your chances of survival, but what if you’re so well adapted that you don't need civilization at all? Or don't need it anymore?”
“Heaven's River is idyllic,” Bill replied. “Are you saying it's perhaps too much so?”
“Yes. The Quinlans were probably well adapted to their environment on Quinn. And this environment was designed with their preferences in mind, so it's even more idea. So there really isn't any kind of selection pressure anymore.”
“And you think this is deliberate?”
“I don’t know, Bill. I don't think so. The problem is that if it continues, the Quinlans could lose their remaining knowledge, then their culture, then ultimately their intelligence.”
“Excuse me?” I said, aghast.
“Brains are expensive, Bob. They are for humans, and they are for Pav, and they are for Quinlans. 20 to 25% of daily calories go to keeping us cogitating. Now, assume a Quinlan comes along with a smaller brain maybe only needing 15%? That Quinlan has an advantage in reproduction, and keeping itself fed, and so on. Without any reason to privilege intelligent Quinlans, the new breed could take over within a dozen generations. Let that kinda stepwise mutation happened a few times, and the Quinlan race would be just another set of animals.”
“The Administrator cannot have had that in mind.”
“I agree, which is why I think it's probably an unintended consequence. And possibly one that hasn't occurred to anyone yet.”
Dammit. I was here to get Bender, that was all. But could I just walk away from this? Would end up being ‘The Bob’ all over again?
As the old Pacinoism goes, the more I try to get out, the more they keep pulling me in.
26. Tensions Rise
Bill
July 2334
Virt
We’d left the Mannies napping so we could get some work done in virt. The AMI would alert me of something required my attention. Meanwhile, I had a backlog of items that had accumulated.
I reviewed the list in front of me and frowned. The data window should times and places of attempted logins to SCUT relay stations and autofactories. In every case, the login ID used in the attempt had been the old common ID used in all equipment, back when all the Bobs were on the same page.
Garfield had been reading over my shoulder. “I suppose it's mathematically possible it could be someone other than Starfleet.”
“It's mathematically possible you might spontaneously burst into flames,” I replied, turning to them. “I'm not betting on it though.”
“Well, we’re in virt, but I get the point.” Garfield walked over to his La-Z-Boy, picked up Spike, and sat down with the cat in his lap. “So, Starfleet is trying something.”
“Where something is undefined, but probably not good.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Already done it, Gar. I’ve accessed every single piece of equipment in the Bobiverse, tested the logins, and changed them. I've sent encrypted emails to the putative owners with instructions to change
