Chapter 4
“Evolution“
“Looking still more remotely to the future, we may predict that, owing to the continued and steady increase of the larger groups, a multitude of smaller groups will become utterly extinct, and leave no modified descendants; and consequently that of the species living at any one period, extremely few will transmit descendants to a remote futurity.”
Charles Darwin
On the Origin of Species
U.N. Quantum Corps Base
Table Top Mountain, Idaho, USA
June 5, 2049
0630 hours
Johnny Winger stepped aside as a trio of packbots trundled across the grassy quadrangle toward the western end of the mesa. The bots were part of a crew unloading two lifters at the base’s South pad, shipping in supplies to continue reactivating the base at Table Top.
“Better watch your step, Lieutenant,” said Major Kraft. “There’s still a hell of a lot of gear we’ve got to move back in to get this place going. We’ll have lifters and cargotracs here for the next week, maybe more, while we get up and running.”
Winger saw another pair of lifters circling the west end of the field, maneuvering for a touchdown at Lift Pad North. “Any problems getting through the dust?”
Kraft led Winger across the quadrangle, toward the base chapel on the other side of the BQ complex. “We’re getting current met reports every half hour. So far, we’ve been able to get around the worst effects. And it doesn’t hurt that BioShield has assigned a formation of bots to keep our skies clean; they’ve been chewing a hole in the dust clouds for several weeks now, trying to help us expedite the reactivation of the base. By the way, that came from CINCQUANT himself. We’re a top priority for the Corps, even with all the other re-mediation work going on.”
Winger watched the latest lifters maneuver like giant bumblebees toward a landing at the north pads. The morning skies over the Buffalo range were dim and blood red with early dawnlight. The northern hemisphere had sustained as much as a 15% darkening of its normal daylight in the weeks after the asteroid impacts. Mean temperatures had dropped during daylight hours almost three degrees. Already, the early summer aspen and birch trees along the slopes of the Buffalo Valley were dying off…subdued palettes of brown and rust instead of their usual riot of red and yellow.
“I’m glad I could get ANAD involved in the clean-up, Major. Gives him something to do.”
“If we can trust him,” Kraft said.
Winger thought that a bit harsh. “It’s true he’s gone through some changes lately, Major…we all have. I like to think of it as evolution. At least we know Sergeant Glance didn’t do any more damage.”
Kraft wasn’t convinced. “Toward what exactly, Winger? Evolution toward what? All our assaults on Red Hammer’s quantum generators have damaged him…that’s what has happened. He’s all bollixed up, completely cuckoo, if you ask me. We ought to scrap the lot of them---the whole Symbiosis Project too—and just start over. Now look what’s happened…all these bugs have gotten permission to leave containment. CINCQUANT’s order stinks. They’re just floating around freely like pollen. What’s next: are we going to start marrying them? Have nanokids?”
They finally made the base chapel and joined a gathering of officers and troopers in full dress black and gold milling about outside.
Winger spotted Sheila Reaves and Lucy Hiroshi beside a small statuary garden. Hiroshi was just recently recovered from her injuries in the borehole collapse on Hicks-Newman. He went over. Kraft headed into the chapel.
Reaves was somber. “It’s a sad day, Lieutenant. Doc Frost is going to be missed.”
“Amen to that.” To Hiroshi, he added: “When are you released back to active duty?”
Hiroshi’s facial scars had almost completely healed, thanks to the nanoderm patches. “Med says I can return next week…partial duty for two weeks, then another checkup. I’m telling you, I was going stir crazy in that swarm field…all those bots picking and probing at me all hours of the day and night. And I’m getting antsy sitting around my quarters, you know? A trooper can only take so many training vids and sims.”
“At ease, Sergeant. I need you back whole and healthy before I put you on the front lines. Either of you seen Doc Frost II today? I want to see him…it…them…whatever, for myself.”
Reaves nodded toward the chapel entrance. “Inside, back of the sanctuary.” She shuddered slightly. “It is a pretty good sim of the Doc, for a swarm, but it still creeps me out.”
Hiroshi agreed. “It gives a lot of us the willies, Lieutenant. Who authorized that cloud of bugs to be here anyway…here, of all places?”
“CINCQUANT himself, “ Winger said. “Speaking of which—“
The Corps commander had just arrived in a convoy of crewtracs. The Teutonic Lion hoisted himself up to his full six-foot, eight-inch height, twisted his white moustache, tossed back his great mane of hair and glided into the chapel like royalty to his castle.
“Too bad we can’t make a swarm of him,” mouthed Hiroshi under her breath.
General Linx’s arrival seemed to be the signal for the rest of the crowd to begin filing into the chapel.
The memorial service for Dr. Irwin Frost had brought a large crowd and the chapel was packed. In the last row, a single visitor sat quiet and alone, reflective from all outward appearances, alone on the pew despite the press of the crowd. It was Doc II, the swarm facsimile of Frost that had emerged from the mortal remains of the doctor at autopsy.
Winger steered Reaves to an open spot on the other end of the pew. Hiroshi declined and went to a front pew, where she could be surrounded by other nanotroopers. Human nanotroopers, she said. At the chancel, there was no casket. Little remained of the real Doc after the Big Bang accident few weeks before. Only a few gaudy bouquets of flowers and small table covered with personal effects and memorabilia adorned the chancel. The table was filled with personal items from Frost’s life and a portrait of a much younger man than Johnny Winger had ever known.
As the crowd filled in, Winger studied Doc II out of the corner of his eye. Occasionally, he got a nudge in the ribs from Reaves.
“Stop staring, sir. You’re creeping me out.”
“Sorry.”
The swarm was at best an imperfect likeness of the departed doc, especially on close inspection. The crowd gave the spectral likeness of Frost a wide and wary berth, filling in the pews around like a river flowing past a boulder. From a distance of a few meters or more, the fuzzy indistinct edges couldn’t be seen and the likeness was more lifelike and compelling. Overall, Winger considered that the swarm was doing a credible job of maintaining structure; he found himself imagining the configs and effectors that the real Doc Frost must have designed to make the swarm function properly as a para-human.
Was this the future for ANAD-like systems? He himself had hacked out configs to sim human beings numerous times. Every last one of them had been a real hog for processor cycles. Had Doc Frost managed to create some new kind of algorithm?
It was a truism among atomgrabbers that nanobotic swarms preferred to maintain a looser, more natural swarm structure; such a formation was infinitely easier on the processor and config engine. But simulating human forms could be done and this swarm, thanks to years of tweaking from the real Doc Frost himself, seemed as lifelike as any he had ever encountered.
The real question was why?
The service lasted an hour…an upbeat celebration of the life and work of Dr. Irwin Frost. Mary Duncan, frail but still sharp-tongued, gave a moving eulogy.
When the service was over, Winger and Reaves huddled with Hiroshi and other nanotroopers outside the chapel.
“What say we head over to the mess hall,” Mighty Mite Barnes was saying. “The coffee’s stronger than jet fuel. And there’s enough doughnuts to build a second Table Top.”
“It was a nice quiet service,” Sheila Reaves decided. ??
?Seemed to have just the right tone: respectful, deferential, celebrating Doc’s accomplishments…all he has meant to the Corps.”
Hiroshi was the first to spot the Doc II swarm, all alone, now ‘gliding’ carefully out of the chapel door. “I suppose that’s one of Doc’s accomplishments too. I haven’t decided what to think about it…whether to be afraid or disgusted…or both.”
Winger went over to the swarm, which initially did not seem to detect his presence. It flowed across the grounds of the statuary garden for a few moments before stopping. It then re-gathered itself into a likeness of Doc Frost.
Winger knew from experience how hard it was to control swarm movement to maintain something like a human likeness. “Looks like you’re having problems keeping structure…maybe your controller needs tweaking. I could take a look, if you’d like.”
Doc II seemed to regard Winger and the other troopers with what could only be described as something between contempt and pity. Maybe it’s just the light, Winger decided. Control’s a little off and the reflection isn’t quite right.