She was nervous. The House Computer was a whole different system than her little machine in her room. You didn’t log-on until you were grown, or you got in a lot of trouble with Security. Florian said some of the systems were dangerous.
She gave uncle Denys a second nervous look, then sat down and looked for the switch on the keyboard.
“Where’s the on?”
“There’s a keycard slot on the desk. At your right. It’ll ask for a handprint.”
She turned in the chair and gave him a third look. “Is it going to do something?”
“It’s going to do a security routine. It won’t gas the apartment or anything. Just do it.”
She did. The handprint screen lit up. She put her hand on it.
“Name,” the Minder said.
“Ariane Emory,” she told it.
The red light on the terminal went on and stayed on.
The monitor didn’t come up from the console.
“What’s it doing?”
“Checking the date,” he said. “Checking all the House records. It’s finding out you’ve been born and how old you are, since it’s found similarities in that handprint and probably in your voiceprint, but it knows it’s not the original owner. It’s checking Archives for all the Ari handprints and voiceprints it has. It’s going to take a minute.”
It wasn’t like the ordinary turn-on. She had seen uncle Denys do that, just talking to his computer through the Minder. She looked at this one working, the red light still going, and looked at Denys again. “Who wrote this?”
“Good question. Ari would have asked that. The fact is, Ari did. She knew you’d exist someday. She keyed a lot of things to you, things that are very, very important. When the prompt comes up, Ari, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Tell it COP D/TR comma B1 comma E/IN.”
Take program: Default to write-files. “What’s B1? What’s IN?”
“Base One. This is Base One. Echo to Instore. That means screen and Minder output into the readable files. If I thought we could get away with it I’d ask it IN/P, and see if we could snag the program out, but you don’t take chances with this Base. There!”
The screen unfolded from the desktop and lit up.
Hello, Ari.
Spooky again. She typed: COP D/TR, B1, E/IN
Confirmed. Hello, Ari.
“It wants hello,” uncle Denys said. “You can talk to it. It’ll learn your voiceprint.”
“Hello, Base One.”
How old are you?
“I’m nine.”
Hello, Denys.
She took in a breath and looked back at Denys.
“Hello, Ari,” Denys said, and smiled in a strange way, looking nowhere at all, not talking to her, talking to it.
It typed out: Don’t panic, Ari. This is only a machine. I’ve been dead for 11.2 years now. The machine is assembling a program based on whose records are still active in the House computers, and it’s filling in blanks from that information. Fortunately it can’t be shocked and it’s all out of my hands. You’re living with Denys Nye. Do you have a House link there?
“Yes,” uncle Denys said, and when she turned around to object, laid a finger on his lips and nodded.
“Uncle Denys says yes.”
The Minder could handle things like that. It just took it a little longer.
Name me the rivers and the continents and any other name you think of, Ari. I don’t care what order. I want a voiceprint. Go till I say stop.
“There’s the Novaya Volga and the Amity Rivers, there’s Novgorod and Reseune. Planys, the Antipodes, Swigert Bay, Gagaringrad and High Brasil, there’s Castile and the Don and Svetlansk…”
Stop. That’s enough. After this, you can just use your keycard in the Minder slot anywhere you happen to be before you log-on next, and state your name for the Minder. This Base is activated. I’m creating transcript continually. You can access it by asking the Minder to print to screen or print to file. If Denys is doing his job you know what that means. Do you know without being told?
“Yes.”
Good. Log-on anytime you like. If you want to exit the House system just say log-off. Storing and recall is automatic. It will always find your place but it won’t activate until you say hello. Denys can explain the details. Goodbye. Don’t forget to log-off.
She looked at uncle Denys. Whispered: “Do I?” He nodded and she said: “Log-off.”
The screen went dark and folded down again.
ARCHIVES: RUBIN PROJECT:
CLASSIFIED CLASS AA
DO NOT COPY WITHOUT COMMITTEE FORM 768
CONTENT: Computer Transcript File #5979 Seq. #28
Emory I/Emory II
2415: 1/24: 2332
B/1: Hello, Ari.
AE2: Hello.
B/1: Are you alone?
AE2: Florian and Catlin are with me.
B/1: Anyone else?
AE2: No.
B/1: You’re using House input 311. What room are you in?
AE2: My bedroom. In uncle Denys’ apartment.
B/1: This is how this program works, Ari, and excuse me if I use small words: I wrote this without knowing how old you’d be when you logged-on or what year it would be. It’s 2415. The program just pulled that number out of the House computer clock. Your guardian is Denys Nye. The program just accessed your records in the House data bank and found that out, and it can tell you that Denys ordered pasta for lunch today, because it just accessed Denys’ records and found out the answer to that specific question. It knows you’re 9 years old and therefore it’s set a limit on your keycard accesses, so you can’t order Security to arrest anybody or sell 9000 Alpha genesets to Cyteen Station. Remembering what I was like at 9, that seems like a reasonable precaution.
The program has Archived all the routines it had if you were younger or older than 9. It can get them back when your House records match those numbers, and it can continually update its Master according to the current date, by adding numbers. This goes on continually.
Every time you ask a question it gets into all the records your age and your current clearance make available to you, all over the House system, including the library. Those numbers will get larger. When you convince the program you have sufficient understanding, the accesses will get wider. When you convince the program you have reached certain levels of responsibility your access will also get into Security levels and issue orders to other people.
There’s a tape to teach you all the accesses you need right now. Have you had it?
AE2: Yes. I had it today.
B/1: Good. If you’d answered no, it would have cut off and said: log-off and go take that tape before you log-on again. If you make a mistake with your codes, it’ll do that too. A lot of things will work that way. You have to be right: the machine you’re using is linked to the House system, and it will cut you off if you make mistakes. If you make certain mistakes it’ll call Security and that’s not a good thing.
Don’t play jokes with this system, either. And don’t ever lie to it or enter false information. It can get you in a lot of trouble.
Now I will tell you briefly there is a way to lie to the system without causing problems, but you have to put the real information in a file with a sufficiently high Security level. The machine will always read that file when it needs to, but it will also read your lie, and it will give the lie to anyone with a lower Security clearance than you have. That means only a few people, mostly Security and Administration, can find out what you hid. This is so you can have some things private or secret.
Eventually you can use this to cover your Inquiry activity. Or your Finances. Or your whereabouts. That file can’t be erased, but it can be added to or updated. When your access time in the House system increases and the number of mistakes you make per entry decreases to a figure this program wants, you’ll get an instruction how to use the Private files. Until then, don’t lie to the program, or you’ll lose points
and it’ll take you a long time to get beyond this level.
You’ve probably figured out by now you can’t question the program when it’s in this mode. You can stop this tutorial at any point by saying: Ari, wait. You can go out of this mode and ask a question and come back by saying, Ari, go on.
Don’t ever think that this program is alive. It’s just lines of program like the programs you can write. But it can learn, and it changes itself as it learns. It has a base state, which is like a default, but that’s only in the master copy in Archives.
Sometimes this program transcribes what I tell you for your guardian Denys. Sometimes not. It’s not doing that now. I’m writing to files only you can access, by telling the Minder you want to hear the file from this session, by hour and date. This is an example of a Private file. Do you understand how to access it?
AE2: Yes.
B/1: If you make a mistake the program will repeat this information.
Never ask for a Private file in front of anyone but Florian and Catlin. Not even Denys Nye can see the things I tell you in Private files. If he tries to do this, this program will send an order to Security. This program has just sent a message to Denys’ Base that says the same thing. Trust me that I have a reason for this.
Sometimes a file will be so Private I will tell you to be totally alone. This means not even Florian and Catlin. Never ask to review those files when anyone else is present. They won’t print out either, because they involve things very personal to you only, that not even your friends should know about you.
Many of these things involve your studies and they will simply come out of my own notes.
A lot of times they will come simply because you’ve asked a question and the computer has found a keyword.
You carry my keycard, my number, and my name. My records exist only in Archives and yours are the current files. Don’t worry about my being dead. It doesn’t bother me at all at this point. You can call me Ari senior. There isn’t any word in the language that says what we are to each other. I’m not your mother and I’m not your sister. I’m just your Older. I assume that word is still current.
Understand, Ari, there is a difference between myself, who say these words into a Scriber,—and Base One. Base One can use a language logic function to talk with you much more like a living person than I can, because it’s real-time and I’m not, and haven’t been since 2404.
That’s the computer accessing my records, understand, to find out that date.
Base One can answer questions on its own and bring up my answers to certain questions, and you can talk back and forth with it.
But never get confused about which one is able to talk back and forth with you directly.
Have you got a question now? Ask it the right way and Base One will start talking to you. If you make a mistake the program will revert to the instruction you missed. Or you can ask for repeat. Good night, Ari. Good night, Florian and Catlin.
AE2: Ari, wait.
B/1: I’m listening, Ari.
AE2: Are you Base One now?
B/1: Yes.
AE2: Who sent my maman Jane Strassen to Fargone?
B/1: Access inadequate. There is a reference from Ari. Stand by.
Ari, this is Ari senior.
This is the first time you’ve asked a question with a Security block on it. I don’t know what the question is. It means something is preventing you from reaching that information in the House computers and your clearance isn’t high enough. The most probable reason is: Minority status. End segment.
AE2: Ari, wait.
B/1: I’m listening, Ari.
AE2: Where is Valery Schwartz?
B/1: Access inadequate.
AE2: Where’s Amy Carnath?
B/1: Amy Carnath checked into the Minder in U8899. U8899 is: apartment registered to Julia Carnath. There is no record of check-out in that Minder.
AE2: Then she’s home.
B/1: Please be specific.
AE2: Then Amy Carnath is home, isn’t she?
B/1: Amy Carnath is home, yes.
2315: 1/27: 2035
AE2: Base One: look up Ariane Emory in Library.
B/1: Access limited. Ari has a message. Stand by.
Ari, this is Ari senior.
So you’ve gotten curious about me. I don’t blame you. I would be too. But you’re 9 and the program will only let you access my records up to when I was 4. That gap will narrow as you grow older, until you’re able to read into my records equal to and beyond your current age. There’s a reason for this. You’ll understand more of that reason as you grow. One reason you can understand now is that these records are very personal, and people older than 9 do things that would confuse hell out of you, sweet.
Also at 9 you’re not old enough to understand the difference between my accomplishments and my mistakes, because the records don’t explain anything. They’re just things the House computer recorded at the time.
Now that you’ve asked, Base One will automatically upgrade the information once a week. I’d give it to you daily, because there’s going to be a lot of it, but I don’t want you to get so involved with what I did from day to day that you live too much with me and not enough in the real world.
You can access anything about anybody you want in Archives through 2287, when I was 4. If the person you want wasn’t born by then, you won’t get anything.
This gap will constantly narrow as you grow, and as your questions and your own records indicate to Base One that you have met certain criteria. So the harder you study in school and the more things you qualify in, the faster you get answers. That’s the way life works.
Remember what you do is your own choice. What I did was mine.
Good luck, sweet.
Now Library will retrieve all my records up to the time I was 4 and store it for your access in a file named BIO.
2315: 4/14: 1547
B/1: Stand by for your Library request.
AE2: Capture.
B/1: Affirmative: document captured; copyrighted: I must dump all data in two days unless you authorize the 20-credit purchase price.
AE2: Scan for reference to horse or equine or equestrian.
B/1: Located.
AE2: How many references?
B/1: Eighty-two.
AE2: Compare data to data in study file: HORSE. Highlight and Tempstore additional information or contradictions in incoming data. Call me when you’re done.
B/1: Estimated time of run: three hours.
AE2: Log-off.
2316: 1/12: 0600
B/1: Good morning, Ari. Happy birthday.
AE2: Is this Base One?
B/1: Ari, this is Ari senior. You’re 10 now. That upgrades your accesses. If you’ll check library function you can access a number of new tapes.
Your test scores are one point better than mine in geography, three points under mine in math, five points under mine in language…
C H A P T E R
9
i
Uncle Giraud called it the highest priced shop in the known universe, let alone Novgorod, and Ari loved it. She tried on a blouse that would absolutely kill Maddy Strassen: it was bronze and brown, it was satin, and it had a scarf around the throat with a topaz and gold pin—real, of course, at this place.
And she looked back at uncle Giraud with a calculated smile. It was a very grown-up smile. She had practiced it in the mirror.
The blouse cost two hundred fifty credits. It went into a box, and uncle Giraud put it on his personal card without saying a word.
She signed a picture of herself for the shop, which had a lot of pictures of famous people who shopped there: it had its own garage and a security entrance, and it was an appointment-only place, near the spaceport, where you couldn’t just walk in.
Which was why uncle Giraud said it was a place they could go, the only place they could go, because of Security.
There was a picture of the first Ari. It was spooky. But she had seen those before.
The first Ari was pretty even when she was almost as old as maman, and she had been a hundred twenty when she died. She had pretty, pretty eyes, and her hair was long and black (but she would have been on rejuv then and she would have dyed it) and parted in the middle the way Ari wore hers. She wanted to wear makeup like Ari senior, but uncle Denys said no, she could have a little, but not that much, and besides, styles changed.
Uncle Denys had given her cologne for last New Year’s, that he said had been made especially for Ari by a perfumery in Novgorod. It smelled wonderful, like the greenhouse gardens when the tulips were blooming.
She was growing up, he said, and she knew that. All of a sudden one day a long time back Nelly had said she was getting to old to run around without her blouse on, and she had looked down and realized it was not that she was getting a little fat, but that something was changing.
At the time she had thought it was a damn nuisance, because she liked not having to wear a shirt.
By now she definitely was getting a shape, and even Catlin was, sort of. Nothing, of course, to match her cousin Maddy Morley-Strassen, who was a year older, transferred in from Planys with her maman Eva, who was aunt Victoria Strassen’s daughter, and maman’s niece; and a cousin of Amy Carnath through Amy’s father Vasily Morley-Peterson, who was at Planys.
Maddy was—
An early developer, uncle Denys called it.
Maddy was not anybody she would want to be, but she was certainly not the sort to let get too comfortable.
So she bought a scarf for Maddy and a real gold pin for Amy and a pullover for Sam and one for Tommy, and insisted to carry them on the plane, besides the other things she got for everybody. It didn’t matter that you could order a lot of it, she told uncle Giraud, it mattered it came from Novgorod, where the other kids didn’t get to go, and she was too going to take it on the plane. She got a blouse for Catlin, for parties: black, of course, but gauzy; Catlin looked surprised when she saw herself in the mirror. And a shirt for Florian over on the men’s side: black and satiny and with a high collar that was sort of like his usual uniform sweaters, but very, very elegant. And then the woman who owned the shop thought of a pair of pants that would fit Catlin, very tight and satiny. So that meant it was only fair Florian should get new pants too. And while they were doing that, she found a gunmetal satin pair of pants that just fit her, and that meant the sweater that went with them, which was bronzed lavenders on the shoulders shading down to gunmetal-sheen lavender and then gunmetal-and-black at the bottom. It was elegant. Uncle Giraud said it was too old for her before she put it on. When he saw her in it he said well, she was getting older.