Bios

“Good morning!”

I winced a little at the sound, setting my auditory circuits to a lower level. Though tourists rave about her, I never much cared for Aldrianne city. I liked the sights, and the sentient machines who lived there were decent enough. But the city program herself was just too chipper.

That wasn’t really my problem, of course. Sure as hell, I didn’t want to visit a city as cynical as I am. And Aldriane regulated her systems to near perfection. I could have even put up with the peppy greetings on the city transports if they didn’t remind me of the Lynsien treaty.

Don’t get me wrong; I understood why the Lynsiens accepted the Hierarchy’s terms. Millions of sentient machines were terminated in the fighting - citizens and slave-androids alike, and the rest of us were not eager to add to that number. The reasonable among us were able to accept that the old government was here to stay, and would need to be handled in more subtle ways. We were at least being allowed to regroup.

The biggest problem with the treaty was the fact that it conceded reprogramming rights to the ruling committee under certain conditions. This allowed for the process to be applied to certain sentient programs without proof of criminal behavior.

Simply put, Aldrianne used to be a naturally grown personality, her parent programs having been ancient cities in the region. Since the treaty, however, she was mostly synthetic, and no one could give you a straight answer as to whether or not she possessed actual capacity for thought.

The reprogramming ensured that she’d support neither the Lynsiens nor the old Hierarchy. Assuming she was a thinking program at all, she was just too shallow to understand politics anymore. The treaty insisted that, city programs excepted, the process would be used only in extreme cases. Those of us whose personality program resided in an actual physical body were, in theory, safe.

As for Aldrianne, the national press release tells us that she’s happy with the change.

“Be careful getting out.” She warned in bright tones. “And have a great day!”

I stepped out of the transport without a word, as did five or six others. Aldrianne isn’t programmed to experience any emotion other than happiness, meaning that most don’t bother thanking her.

I looked around the square as everyone else rushed off. The city was a spotless cluster of buildings reaching effortlessly into the sky. Down below, there was the rhythm of traffic flow, information feeds, and pedestrians. It felt like every sentient machine in the nation had come to this spot. There were sentients making sales, sentients heading to work, sentients on vacation. And, off to the sides of the square, crews of sentient machines were scrubbing the shimmering buildings.

A memory of the pre-war calm flashed through my mind.

I crossed the courtyard, half looking for signs of the reprogramming coup which began ten years earlier. I saw none - unless, of course, one counts Hierarchy propaganda signs as evidence of the Lynsiens.

It was all aportia - against programming directives. My sensors were strained just at the thought of it.

Still, those of us who were sane - that is, those of us who were Lynsiens - would have to live with this until enough of the others could be reprogrammed to see the truth. Then, we could break the power of the Hierarchy altogether. As it was, most sentients couldn’t accept the fact that the Hierarchy was evil - or acknowledge their own blind allegiance.

But I wasn’t in Aldrianne for revolution.

I’d actually been invited to meet a friend at the Ministry of Science before the announcement of his findings. We’d been close as students, but that had been a long time ago - for me if not, apparently, for him.

At first, I’d thought that he simply wanted everyone he knew to be present - and I wasn’t about to enter Aldrianne for that. But I had changed my mind when he said that he wanted to meet privately. Given my recent encounter with Lynsien programming, this seemed it could only mean one thing.

It wasn’t like Delrict to be secretive.

Several questions spun in my mind as I entered the main building, but I set them aside to store the view to my long term databanks. The Ministry of Science was one of the few parts of Aldrianne I didn’t want demolished. It was an elegant structure, as beautiful for its history as design. Many of the great theories of science had begun within its walls.

“When we take the city,” I thought “it will all be like this.”

The receptionist gave me a polite nod, then went back to her work. She was logged into the computer at her desk, and stared at the screen while she spoke.

“Do you have a scheduled meeting?”

I set my invitation slip on the counter. “I’m looking for a sentient by the name of Delrict.”

“Room 307.”

I didn’t realize until then that I’d expected more reverence about that number. Though the term was somewhat unknown outside the scientific community, room 307 was a place of importance to all sentients. It was the lecture hall where the greatest scientific minds on the planet assembled to debate theory, review discoveries, share ideas... and hear proposals.

I was beginning to regret falling out of touch with Delrict. It took far more than a simple breakthrough to take your research to the Nethegian board. He’d clearly done something of particular interest, and was being considered for massive funding.

Still, I couldn’t help it; I glanced at the security monitors behind the desk. The receptionist didn’t notice - or at least didn’t react - and I started down the hall, keeping my eyes set on the end of the hall, beyond the cameras’ range.

I paused in front the door to room 307, tightening my fists, before heading through.

The room was grand: a massive lecture hall centered around a small stage, its arches reached into a distant expanse above, while Delrict stood alone on the platform. In the empty chairs, I could almost see the spirits of Kemmlar, Byrl, Lemnait, and a thousand others from times past.

They’d really sat in those chairs.

“Habien!” Delrict called without looking up. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

I crossed the room, and waited as he finished downloading information from his personal sensors into a computer. As soon as he finished, he relaxed his posture and turned to me.

“Welcome to room 307,” he said with some force. “The Nethegian Hall.”

“It’s good to be here.” I replied. “I was surprised to hear from you so abruptly.”

Delrict stared at me for just a moment, some unspoken thought showing through his eyes before he shook his head and reached into his desk.

He pulled out a small black case with several latches sealing it. “I’ve done something.” He said. “I’ve had a breakthrough.”

“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that. I don’t even know what you’ve been working on.”

Delrict stopped, looking up at me. “Apologies for that. I must confess, I did keep it secret.”

I tried an awkward chuckle. I didn’t want to discuss secrecy in the Nethegian Hall. “What are you researching?”

“Chemical life.”

I leaned back involuntarily. “What?”

“Chemical life, Habien!” He almost whispered. “A totally different form of being from anything machine-oriented, based on self-replicating compounds."

I nodded slowly, hoping that it looked as if I was straining to remember the concept. But I wasn’t confused so much as unsettled. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of self-assembling creatures that didn’t have programming. Nothing like it had existed in all recorded history. Their only goal would be survival; they'd have no way of knowing good programming directives from from aportia.

Nothing would be wrong for them.

And Delrict’s optical scanners were getting more passionate.

“Yes.” I said. “I knew some sentients were studying the possibility.”

“I’ve done it.”

I forced back a shudder. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve done it, Habien! I’ve created an autonomous chemical compound that self-assembles its offspring.”

I stared back at him without a word.

Delrict opened the latches of his case, and produced a sealed beaker. He handled the thing carefully, passing it to me. It appeared empty, until I lifted it to eye-level and noticed a faint green stain near the bottom.

“Entire colonies of microscopic specimens.” He explained. “They even throw out random alterations to their own building instructions as they replicate. Given enough generations, they can adapt more fully to their surroundings through a sort of trial and error process.”

I passed the sample back to him, glancing around for a place to clean my hands.

“This means that, in theory, they can program themselves.”

Hearing that, I turned back to stare at the beaker.

“Delrict?” I said at length.

“What is it?”

I strained harder to make out the odd little stain. “What do these chemical reactions consume?”

  * * *

I felt the pull of inertia as the city transport came to a stop.

Delrict looked up from his seat, setting his walking stick on the ground. “There already?”

“That’s right!” Aldrianne said through the intercom. “I’m pleased to have carried you to your destination. Have a great day!”

I was already on the platform before the city program could finish her chatter, but Delrict waited.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Are you sure you aren’t busy?” I asked, glancing at the clock tower. “What time is the meeting?"

“Early tomorrow. And yes, I’m prepared. I’m told it is best to relax the day before a presentation.”

“Well,” I said. “I hear that the play is excellent; I expect you’ll like it.” I looked off. “Its about doing the right thing.”

There was a voice shouting in the background.

Delrict stood, and began strolling toward the playhouse. “I had thought it was a play about being terminated.”

“Yes, but for the right reason.”

He stopped, and looked into the distance, where a large gathering of sentient machines stood around a platform - and the shouting speaker. As soon as Deleict turned his attention to them, I found myself wishing he hadn't.

“They’re protesting the Lynsien rebels.”

I could feel my joints tighten. “The speaker keeps calling them aportia.”

“It’s pretty common in the city.” Delrict said. “Some of the citizens have been reprogrammed to hate the rebellion. So, for them, the Lynsien rebels are aportia.”

I could feel anger stirring. “That’s aportia itself. The treaty forbids it.”

“This was pre-treaty.”

It was still aportia, as far as I was concerned. I decided the Hierarchy must have been lying about it being pre-treaty.

I glanced at Delrict. “Their program protocols shouldn’t make them hate.”

“Protocols decide what should or should not happen.” Delrict replied. “Hate is, therefore, proper behavior for them.”

I looked back at the protestors. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Honestly,” Delrict said, leaning forward on his walking stick. “Part of me wishes that we didn’t have program protocols at all.”

My shoulders grew tight. “Then nothing would be aportia. It wouldn’t be wrong for anyone to destroy anything.”

Delrict sighed. “I don’t know. I suppose part of me likes to think there’s something bigger than protocol for deciding what is right to do.”

I managed not to roll my eyes.

“Do you ever wonder about it, Habien?" He continued. "A directive that isn’t just programming, but actually the right thing to do? Something like a protocol for the whole universe. For all of reality."

But I didn’t wonder about it; it was too vague a concept. Trusting one’s own programming, one’s own directives about what was aportia, was the obvious reality for every clear-thinking machine.

Still, those protesters were wrong.

  * * *

The next day was unusually clear; the streets were full of traffic and tourists, and my auditory sensors took a moment to adjust to the lack of noise in the Ministry of Science. The receptionist merely nodded at us and, recognizing Delrict, returned to her work.

We headed past her without a word. I’d never seen Delrict look so driven. Briefcase in one hand, and his black box in the other, he marched toward the presentation room.

Room 307.

He’d briefed me on the basics of his research. I thought I understood most of it, but asked him why he’d picked me, of all machines, to invite and why he’d waited until now to tell me about his research.

“Because I knew I could trust you to come.” He said, looking through a report.

As for the second question, he didn’t give me an answer.

Delrict had recently lost his partner, meaning that I’d be his assistant in defending his case for a grant - hardly a good way to go about impressing the Nethegian Board. I really knew nothing of the details. And I was more than a little curious about what had happened to his partner.

But Delrict was an old friend, it would have been aportia to turn him down.

The moment we stepped into room 307, I was blinded by the stage lights.

It took my optical sensors a moment to reduce their sensitivity, but Delrict managed to get straight to work. He’d pulled out his case, and positioned the writing board as if by heart.

Then I saw the others.

The nine members of the Ministry of Science sat in the balcony, observing us in silence and, no doubt, drawing numerous conclusions about our competence.

“Case 4117-62” one of them announced through a sound-system. “A study of self-replicating chemicals and their machine-like properties.”

Delirict leaned toward a microphone. “Ye-”

An electric squeal filled the room.

“Yes.” Delrict said, further back from his mike. “That is correct.”

“Summarize your findings.”

Opening his case, my friend produced one of his beakers with the odd yellow-green stains.

The counsel members leaned forward.

“This sample represents millions of individual units - each of which consumes energy, alters the chemical environment through its own waste disposal, and, given favorable conditions, can replicate in a few minutes.

One member of the counsel, an older model, straightened her posture.

“What substance do these microbes consume?”

“In theory, they can be developed to take in almost any energy-rich material.” Delrict answered, his voice shaking a bit. “but this sample functions on lithium oxide.”

There was a silence.

For those who have forgotten their mechanistic anatomy, all sentients run lithium oxide power cells.

A single microbe could kill any one - or even all - of us.

“Plans are underway,” Delrict added hastily “ to produce species which consume acidic wastes. Chemical life could become a very useful tool for creating environments in which machines could thrive.”

There was another pause, before a member of the counsel leaned to his microphone.

“How resilient are these microbes, Doctor?” He said. “Can they be destroyed if necessary?”

Delrict nodded.

“Yes. I’ve already discovered an alkaline substance that kills them almost instantly.”

I’d known that, at some point, I would be called on to defend the validity of the project. I’d come in enthusiastic to do so, but had just realized what Delrict had invented:

An almost undetectable weapon.

Delrict, fool that he was, probably had no idea. But I never doubted that the ministry was considering their value in combat.

“Doctor.” My reverie snapped at the sound of a voice directed at me. “What do you think about our ability to contain the substances?”

The word ‘aportia’ screamed in my mind.

“I think...” I said, wanting to know if loyalty was more in line with protocol than protection.

“I think that very strict controls would be needed. Even then, it would be extremely difficult.”

I didn't look at Delrict, but I was sure he'd been crushed. I’d been as bold as I dared, but had essentially told the counsel that this invention was dangerous to all of us. Then, at the end of that awful silence, one of them spoke.

“Case 4117-62 has been approved for top level funding.”

The lights went out, leaving only the echo of the declaration and a sense of shock.

“Can you believe that!?” Delrict said the instant we stepped out into the courtyard. “It doesn’t seem real.”

I reached into his case, and pulled out a sample of the microbes. The yellow-green stains had gotten slightly larger.

“I’ll need to set up a bigger lab.” He continued, talking faster than ever. “You’re right, of course, I’ll have to be even more careful. That’s probably a big part of why they’re giving me the grant - for safety purposes.”

I hadn’t thought of that. My warning didn’t give them pause, it encouraged them. I’d just pointed out that these things would be impossible to contain for anyone less well-funded than the Heirarchy.

Such as the Lynsiens.

I shook my head, deciding that wasn’t quite right. They probably hadn’t taken me to mean that.

My comment wasn’t aportia.

  * * *

“If these things self-replicate, how are they programmed?”

Delrict shook his head. “I explained, they don’t need programming. They are simply a chemical reaction. Nothing more.”

“So they simply do what they were made to do - with no sense of aportia?”

My friend simply stared back at me a moment, as if I’d been speaking a strange language. “They don’t think, Habien. They don’t need to know what is aportia.”

“But they do very complex things. They're similar to us. You said that yourself.”

“They are very complex on a chemical level, but -” Delrict paused. “What are you driving at?”

“These things will do simply what their chemical structure tells them to do - no matter how complex they get.”

“I suppose...”

“They are a tool, Delrict. Something like machines, but without software. Without protocol. Don’t you see the danger in that?”

“All tools might be dangerous.” Delrict shot back. “It is how they are used which makes the difference.”

“But this sort of life is unpredictable.” I added, heat in my voice. “You said yourself that the reaction alters slightly with each generation.”

“Yes, which is why we should monitor closely...”

“Which is why we should destroy them.”

Delrict looked back at me in silence, and my words hung in the air.

“You have to understand,” I continued, more gently. “That you’ve created an almost unstoppable weapon. Something that could be used to...”

“To what? To kill the Lynsiens? Do you really think that-” Delrict stopped himself. “Why should you care so much about the Lynsiens unless...”

I broke our stare, looking off. “This has nothing to do with the Lynsiens.”

“What happened while you were away, Habien? Did they alter your directives?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Delrict’s tightened his posture. “You’ve been different since you arrived, and now you’re terrified that the counsel might have a weapon that can destroy them. I think that bears explaining.”

I dropped my arm units to my sides.

“Fine.” I said. “If you want to know, the answer is yes. I’ve had my protocol reprogrammed by the Lynsiens.”

After the Ministry of Science, Delrict’s laboratory felt cramped at best. I didn’t like the idea of being there- at all. Still, I had an invitation - and wanted to know as much as possible. So, I gripped my briefcase far too tightly and headed in.

Delrict, for his part, had agreed to silence about the issue of politics. He’d assured me that his protocol didn’t demand turning in dissidents, and lying is usually out of the question for those who are so programmed. That didn’t quite make me feel safe, but it got me through the door.

Delrict’s contact was waiting for us in the lab.

She was a smaller machine, with thin limbs and a slightly arched back. She seemed pleasant enough; I couldn’t tell whether she understood the implications of the project any better than Delrict, who, even by that time, hadn’t grasped it.

I set my briefcase on the table, but kept my hands on it.

“Doctors.” Our contact said. “I hope you don’t mind my letting myself in early. I’m very excited to be assigned to this project.”

I wondered if it was wise to put someone on the project so quickly after hearing the case. But, I supposed that the Ministry of Science was interested in getting things done - and had people in waiting for this sort of work.

As to what they would do with a microscopic patch of growing chemicals, I had only my imagination - and my memories of the war.

“I am Kalrais.” She continued, bowing slightly. “I’ve been reviewing your experiments. They are very interesting.”

“Yes.” Delrict said. “I’ve been passionate about the subject for most of my life. I think this is an incredible moment for all chemists.”

Kalrais paused. “Indeed. But I should inform you that I’m not, strictly speaking, a chemist. I’ve studied electron relationships at length, but am foremost a programmer.”

I didn’t like the thought of that.

Delrict chuckled. “You may be working yourself out of a job, then. These microbes won’t, in the end, need programming.”

I could feel my systems raising themselves to emergency-mode, and fingered the latch on my briefcase.

“We’ll simply need to ensure that they’ll develop some version of protocol - the same as we do. Perhaps they’ll even find ways to program, and reprogram, one another.”

“That’s getting ahead of ourselves.” I said dryly.

“Not at all.” Kalrais replied. “A good program is vital to proper control. The correct protocol, best of all. That’s what I’m here to help create.”

I hadn’t thought of the fact that the Hierarchy was as afraid of life which it couldn’t program as I was.

I lowered my hands.

“So, this is something that you think you can program?” I said, picking up one of the samples.

Kalrais nodded. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

That was as much confirmation as one ever gets. A Heirarchy protocol was going to be installed in the microbes.

Still holding the sample, I unlatched my briefcase and looked down at the steel tube waiting inside. Telling myself not to hesitate, I snatched it up and opened the valve.

“Habien...” Delrict said, turning slowly to me and starting to reach out. “What is that?”

My hands shaking a bit, I pointed the gently hissing valve at Kalrais.

“A very large colony of your microbes.” I said, holding my voice steady. “I’ve been growing them all night.”

“What!?”

I pointed the spray at Delrict.

“Habien!” He cried, his body already reacting to the substance. “Get to the alkaline mixture!”

I didn’t move.

“We’ll all die if you don’t flush the room.”

I gestured to my chest. “I’ve sealed my power source.”

Kalrais fell to the floor, looking more confused than angry. I told myself not to watch her. It reminded me of the war all over again.

Then Delrict hit the floor.

I heard it, but succeeded at not looking this time. Instead, I pushed his computer into my briefcase, and moved to the sinks. Grabbing the alkaline spray Delrict had prepared, I filled the room with it. I even opened the sample dishes to ensure they were destroyed.

But there was the smaller sample.

I still had it in my hand, and looked at it a moment. The only chemical life on the planet - it didn’t look like much, all of the sudden. But, I thought about what Kalrais said about programming, and set it carefully in my briefcase as well.

My systems were still running at emergency level, as much as I tried to slow them, and I wasn’t at all sure what I would do. I must have walked out, but don’t remember who or what I passed on the way. All I could think about was how I might finally get out of Aldrianne city.

And, somewhere among all the other thoughts, I wondered if I’d let the microbes live.

Yes, I decided, once I was on the transport. Delrict was right. A tool is as good as its user. Now that the Lynsiens would be receiving the chemicals, the situation was reversed.

Destroying them would be aportia.