We see you, food. Your time is not yet. Move aside.
“Well, blow me down. Food, am I?” I was so flummoxed that it took me almost a half-second to come up with a response. It occurred to me during that time that I shouldn’t react too quickly. If they thought I was biological, so much the better.
“We are not attempting to block you. This unit is obviously too small for that. We are trying to communicate.”
To what purpose? To beg for mercy? An interesting idea, mercy. We
learned it from the cybernetic unit that we captured. We have no such
concept.
“Do you have a concept of exchange of information?”
If it benefits us.
Well, that was something, anyway. Based on Hal’s experience, I had a couple of minutes before they were close enough to zap the drone. Assuming they were going to do so, which I figured was a pretty safe bet.
“Why are you stripping systems?”
For resources and food. Is this not obvious?
“Yes, but why not just colonize the star systems?”
Another concept that we learned from the captured unit. Colonization
requires splitting the hive. Splitting the hive means a new Prime. A new
Prime and another hive means war. This does not benefit us. Better to
simply collect resources so that the hive can grow.
Oooookaaaaaay. A picture was forming—something insect-like. Prime was probably some equivalent to a queen.
I noted that they were coming up past the position of one of the stealth
drones. These units were equipped with the new four-light-hour ultra-low-power SUDDAR units. I hoped to get a scan without alerting them.
“Can Primes not cooperate?”
Sub-Primes can be controlled, but not over interstellar distances. We
know you are using this dialog to probe for information. This amuses us.
The scurrying of food as it evades the inevitable end is perhaps for us what
you mean by “art.”
Okay, that was just sick.
“We seek information. Sometimes even if there is no benefit.”
That makes no sense.
“The beings at Zeta Tucanae. You obliterated them.”
They were food. And they would have tried to prevent the harvesting.
“Is there no way we can co-exist? The universe is a large place.”
That also makes no sense. You are food. It is not the purpose of food to
co-exist.
We will, in time, make our way to your Sol and your Epsilon Eridani.
We have seen your radio beacons. Food always thus announces itself.
Oh, wow. Fermi paradox, resolved.
I checked my system status and noted that my drone was probably thirty seconds away from getting zapped. I decided to try and time the SUDDAR
scan to coincide with that, in hopes that the zap might either command all their attention, or blind their systems for a few moments.
“You are building what we would call a Dyson Sphere. Is this for your population?”
Yes. The construct will allow up to five hundred million times the livable
area. We will not run out of space within the lifetime of the Prime.
“And afterwards?”
Irrelevant. That is the concern of the next Prime.
“Isn’t overpopulation a concern? Overcrowding?”
There can never be too many of us. There can only be not enough food.
At that moment, the stealth drone detected the outgoing zap. The Others’
spokesman hadn’t even bothered with a throwaway line or anything. I was absurdly irritated. You’d think I’d deserve at least “Hasta la vista.”
Per instructions, the stealth drone did a quick series of snapshot scans of the Others’ vessels.
Then the zap arrived, and the communications drone exploded on cue. I
noted, from the point of view of the stealth drone, that a squad of Others immediately took off in the direction that the communication drone’s directional antenna had been transmitting. Served them right. Let ’em waste time casting around.
I sat back and stared into space. This was big. This was going to need a moot for sure.
56. Descendants
Bob
January 2183
Delta Eridani
Buster grunted as he released the arrow. It flew dead true and buried itself in the target. Archimedes whooped from the sidelines, and Buster’s little brother and sister yelled insults. Another universality, apparently.
Buster turned to his opponent, Arnold’s son, and waggled his ears. Donald looked distinctly uncomfortable, but wasn’t going to back down in front of the entire hexghi.
Donald released the arrow. It hit the edge of the target. Not a kill shot, but certainly crippling, if it had hit a live target. Arnold shrugged and yelled something supportive.
I took a moment to smile at the number of new faces that had grown up over the last few years. Child mortality had dropped significantly with the reduction in the gorilloid threat, and the Deltan population was up to over eleven hundred.
Archimedes’ family had grown as well. Three children, and a fourth on the way. I was finally beginning to get an idea of the lifespan of the Deltans.
Moses had died a few years ago, at somewhere between sixty and seventy Earth-years old. About the same or maybe even a little better than humans, given the environment.
It was a bittersweet time for me. The council had never relented in their decision to banish me. Archimedes brought it up a couple of times, but was shut down hard. His position as the tribe’s premiere tool maker protected him to a certain extent, but I finally told him to drop it. I didn’t want any backlash against his family.
Stories of The Bawbe still abounded, but I noticed that they were now being embellished. In particular, my reputation seemed to be suffering. The tone sounded a little more like Loki or Lucifer, these days. Would I end up as the devil in some far-future religious myth?
I sighed. The risks of godhood, I guess.
I sent a quick text to ask Marvin if he’d be joining today’s scrub game, and got an affirmative.
57. Moot
Bill
October 2204
Epsilon Eridani
I held the air-horn over my head and pressed the button twice. And received the usual round of boos. Gotta love tradition.
The catcalls were short-lived, though, more of a formality. The word had gotten out, and the Bobs were all business today. Even the pre-meeting session had been quiet, with a growling undertone.
“First, before we get to the main event, I’d like to introduce our newest long-range champion…” I gestured to a nearby Bob. “Bruce is from Calvin and Goku’s first cohort. He is calling in from 11 Leonis Minoris, and holds the record at thirty-seven light years from Earth. Sorry, Mario.”