I bit my tongue on all of that.
I said, “They’re people. Look at Calliope.”
“I can help you,” she said.
“It’s too late,” I said. “The Synarche and the Judiciary now officially know what’s been going on here. It’s out of my hands, Doc.”
“It’s not illegal,” she said.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But it is scandalous. Which is why you’ve kept it secret. Because I guarantee that public opinion will make sure it is illegal. Probably so fast it’ll happen before we manage to get this hospital fully retrofitted for gravity.”
“What about your reputation? About what you just said? About the hospital’s reputation?”
I pressed my virtual hands against my virtual eyes. It did nothing to relieve the very real headache. I was briefly very glad that I was not the rightminding specialist that was going to have to guide Zhiruo into understanding that what she had done was wrong, then guide her through the process of determining and completing the combination of restorative actions and service that might be required to make reparations for everything she had done. It wasn’t illegal—but I bet it would be before the Synarche’s General Council recessed again.
“I guess we both have some work to do,” I said. Zhiruo was somebody else’s problem now, and I didn’t feel bad about that at all. I just wanted to get away from her. Right now, though, I had to go put an ayatana on.
And find out what Helen wanted to borrow my exo for. If she was ready to tell.
CHAPTER 28
I ENTERED STARLIGHT’S PARK THROUGH A door that irised half-open and then stuck. I stepped high like a prancing pony, ducked my head, and jump-climbed through as quickly as possible, without touching the edges. I wanted to keep my torso intact, and all my limbs. I guess we were fortunate that Starlight seemed to be the only physical sentience since the Darboof who was affected by the meme. But then, Starlight was mostly made of wood, which could be interpreted as a construction material. And Starlight was almost completely integrated into the hospital’s physical… er… plant.
At least their brain wasn’t etchable crystal, like the poor Darboof. They could still think, and communicate.
I was rehearsing the conversation to come in my head. I wanted and I did not want to have it, both with equal fervor. Perhaps I should say that I was eager to have it over with.
Starlight was not doing well. Even before I approached the canopy, I could tell. The weight of crystallizing leaves dragged the great tree’s canopy down—or up, from the tree’s perspective, since Starlight grew roots-toward-the-hub in defiance of local standards of direction. Leaves needed light, and light was on the outside. It was irrelevant that weight was on the outside, too.
What concerned me the most were the places where boughs had cracked under the mass of all that silicon. Some big branches had already snapped, and either hung suspended by shreds of bark or lay scattered on the crystal underfoot.
I was wearing an ayatana for Starlight’s species. It was probably the most pleasant one I’ve ever worn, to be honest, although my body felt weird and squishy, respiration was extremely odd, and I was self-conscious of the whorfling noises I kept making with every breath in or out. I also had an overwhelming urge to wave my limbs in time with the breeze. Even though there wasn’t any.
I didn’t need the ayatana to tell me that the administrator was desperately ill.
The outer windows seemed to be holding up so far: no cracks or chips evident. They were durable, but I have lived as long as I have lived in part by never trusting the integrity of a damaged structure too far.
I triggered my hardsuit, except for the helmet, and waited while it grew around me. If the pressure dropped, it would finish the seal on its own. If another limb dropped from the tree and crushed me… well, my problems would be over. I decided to worry about that some other time. And if I died before I got around to worrying, there was already more important unfinished business on that to-do list anyway.
After a few moments, the administrator had not acknowledged me. Maybe it would help if I yelled.
Does it ever help if one yells?
“Starlight,” I said. “Are you there?”
The translated voice in my head, when it came, seemed creaky and slow. [Dr. Jens. How may we assist you?]
“It’s how I can help you,” I said. “I came to tell you that we’ve developed a treatment for afflicted AIs. Dr. Zhiruo was our test case, and she’s responding well. We are treating Afar and Linden next. If all goes well, you should have Linden back very soon.”
[Well done,] the tree chimed. [Please be aware that it is not yet safe to lift the quarantine.…]
Fine dust drifted over my head. I put my hand over my mouth and nose. Silicosis would be a quick way to needing a pair of vat-grown lungs my own self.
I knew that. I couldn’t lift the quarantine while this was going on. So now we had to cure this. But first, there was something I needed to report on.
Better done than danced around. “I know about the clones.”
A great sigh rustled over me. [Have you told anyone?]
“A Judiciary AI. The shipmind of I Rise From Ancestral Night. And put him in touch with Sally and with Dr. Zhiruo. I also told O’Mara. Steps will be taken. I imagine Dr. Zhiruo will be investigated and reassigned.”
And probably have her programming adjusted after an intensive course with an AI psychologist. I couldn’t imagine the Judiciary just… turning her loose to wreak similar havoc elsewhere.
[Good,] Starlight said. [And the saboteurs?]
“I found them,” I said. “Some of them. Not the entire… Look, I think
