The Hydrogen Sonata

She raised one eyebrow. “Do you now?” The “we” the ship was referring to would be either Contact section, or Special Circumstances. Exactly who would become clear shortly, she didn’t doubt.

The avatar nodded. “If you’d be so kind.”

“Why?”

“He might have some information it would be useful to know.”

“He’s been alive for nearly ten millennia; I’m sure he has a lot of information it would be useful to know.”

“No doubt. But this is probably something quite specific.”

“What?”

“Not sure, but somehow relating to the shortly forthcoming Sublimation of the Gzilt.”

This was news to her. She’d been Stored, this time, over four hundred years earlier, when, as far as she could recall, the Gzilt had seemed no more likely to go for Subliming than the Culture itself.

“That the best you’ve got?”

“More detail?” YC asked.

“More detail.”

“You insist?”

“I do.”

The ship told her about the intercepted message from the Zihdren-Remnanter and subsequent developments.

Tefwe thought. “Do we have a view on or interest in whether the Gzilt Sublime or not?”

“No.”

“Take me through the levels.”

“Culture as a whole; no — their business. Contact; not really — opinions differ, mildly. Some temporary local upset to be expected, in the short term especially relating to Scavengers, but all part of the process. SC; no stated interest. Probably some difference of opinion but nobody expressing. Not even a grumble of discussion let alone action. And things are otherwise quiet, so lack of interest not a result of distraction, temporary or otherwise.”

“So this isn’t an SC thing?”

“Not directly, though elements usually associated are cooperating. Specifically, a fast ship will be made available; whatever’s closest to wherever you say you need to go. Other ships at your disposal if necessary should serial uploading and embodiment be required. Simming as unlikely to become an SC focus. Probably.”

“So why are we bothering?”

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case it turns out to be something we should have bothered about. Always try to avoid setting up future opportunities for kicking yourself.” The YC smiled apologetically. “Very small thing attached to very momentous thing. One point three trillion people heading into the big Enfold in less than twenty days from now, but if the Zihdren-Remnanter news about the Book of Truth gets out, that might change things. And maybe it should change things. But either way, it would be good to know the truth. Even if we discover the truth, we don’t have to volunteer it, and even if we discover the truth, don’t volunteer it but are asked to provide it, we still don’t have to — though that’d be harder to justify. The point is, if we are asked and we haven’t even bothered to look, we look bad, and if we are asked and decide to tell what we know, we want to be confident what we’re able to offer really is the truth, or as close as we could reasonably get to it.”

“How many new faces know the old guy’s not a figment?”

“Just one beyond reasonable doubt; the GSV Contents May Differ. There was no leak as such; the ship just did some inspired digging and was owed favours by the right mix of craft. Though the others in the handling group will have been briefed there’s a possibility.”

“The ITG?”

“No. Fresh group. Nobody’s heard from the Interesting Times Gang all the while you’ve been Stored.”

“How remiss.”

“As well as waking you with the suggestion you might care to return to the fray, I’ve been asked to enquire if you know of any other ships that might have helped Mr QiRia over the years. Aside from the Warm, Considering, which we know about.”

“The only other one I remember was called the Smile Tolerantly, an ancient GCU, but the last I heard it was about to become Eccentric or Sublime or do something equally unhelpful.”

“Thank you. So…”

“You will recall I said I wouldn’t go looking for QiRia unless it was something really important. Are you — they — deeming this to be?”

“Let’s say suggesting rather than deeming. But tell me: what are your feelings?”

“Mixed. I dare say I’ll do it, but I’m not terribly happy about it.”

Tefwe had never liked the idea of being fully downloaded into something remote who got to play at being you — who thought they were you. You stayed who you were but then the remote “you” became somebody different, over time. The two of you — or more — could be re-integrated, but it was, she thought, an intrinsically messy process of frankly dubious morality.

“Thank you,” the YC said, exhibiting relief. “May I transmit your mind-state now? There are various craft dotted throughout the galaxy, charged up, ready to roll. Rude to keep them waiting.”

“I want to be kept informed about what the remotes get up to,” she told it. Tefwe had been around Contact’s less salubrious outskirts in one form or another for so long she could remember when there hadn’t been anything called Special Circumstances, just a bunch of ships and others that acted like it, so she knew how to negotiate an agreement with a Mind acting as control such that she wouldn’t end up kicking herself.

“Agreed.”

“In full.”

“Agreed.”

“And a no-constraints chance to negotiate over subsequent re-integration, just me and it, or them.”

“Also agreed.”

“You’ll let me know which ship?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.” Tefwe sat back, thought. “All right,” she said. “I agree.”

“Done. Once again, thank you. Where do you want to head for?”

“Dibaldipen Orbital, Angemar’s Prime system.”

The YC looked blank for a moment, then said, “Ah, one of ours. We might be able to work through the O Hub. That’d be even quicker. We’ll see. Hub Minds can be reluctant to indulge this sort of thing without demanding to know everything there is to know. Do we have a full name for the guy? First thing a Hub Mind’s going to ask for.”

Tefwe smiled. “He’s so old full names hadn’t been invented when he was born, but if they had been he’d have been Tursensa Ngaroe Hgan QiRia dam Yutton. And he has used that name in the past. The far past.”

“Thank you. In any event, the nearest ship is an ex-Psychopath VFP. The Outstanding Contribution To The Historical Process. Just a few days away.” YC looked puzzled. “Dibaldipen. That’s where QiRia is?”

“I have no idea. But there’s a drone there that ought to know.”

“You think it’ll still be there?” YC asked, sounding a little sceptical. “It has been four hundred years.”

“It is retired and set in its ways. Gone native and to seed. I suspect it’ll be there.”

“So, if you’re really so old, tell me what you’ve learned over the years, over the millennia. What are the fruits of your wisdom?”

“They are remarkably few. I have managed to avoid learning too many lessons. That may be what keeps me alive.”

Cossont lay on her bed; the grey cube with QiRia’s mind-state inside it sat on a bedside shelf. It was only the second time she’d turned the cube on since returning home. She, the volupt and the elevenstring had just moved out of her mother’s house in M’yon into a place of her own, half the world away; she was starting to make new