"I wish I could take time to defend my profession," Ramsey said. "We're not all sharks. But there's another question—a vital one. And the person at the center of that question is right here in this room."
Sellars saved them from a search for dark corners in the cornerless bubble. "We're talking about Orlando Gardiner, of course. This network is Orlando's home now. He can't live anywhere else."
Orlando shrugged. "Nobody's going to be pulling the plug, are they? Not for a while."
"But there's even more to it," Ramsey said. "Mr, Kunohara?"
Their host leaned forward, wearing one of his odd half-smiles. "All of you—well, almost all—were with me when the information life-forms were set free. Despite the objections of some of those present, by the way, I do think that was the only rational solution. Can you imagine the political and legal struggles to determine their fate if we had left it up to the people back in the real world?" He said it as scornfully as if he owed that place no allegiance at all. "Well, I have something else to tell you. Those creatures . . . a bad word . . . those beings are gone now, released from their so-strict confinement. But the evolutionary algorithms first generated by Sellars, the processes which helped create them, were not kept in such a secure way. Remember, the Other was not a discrete entity monitoring a network from some separate location—in some ways, the network was the Other's body. Any evolutionary biologist knows that cells which prove useful in one part of an evolving organism may eventually be put to use in other parts as well. And the evolution of both the Other and the Grail network itself has been rapid and not very well understood.
"For a long time I have been discovering examples here in my own simworld of unusual or even impossible mutations. The first appeared years ago, and thus had nothing to do with the more grotesque mutations forced by Dread. Initially I thought these things were just flaws in the programming, then later I put it down to Grail Brotherhood manipulations. Now I think differently. I believe that the Other put some of the same evolutionary aigontnms which helped shape its children into use in the network at large—or at least unknowingly allowed them to seep into the code."
"So there are like, too many mutants," Sam said. "Do you want Orlando to kill them? He's ho dzang at killing mutants."
Kunohara looked at her in horror. "Kill them? Don't you understand, child? This may not be the kind of evolutionary breakthrough that the information life represented—that life was hothoused, protected, even hastened toward more complex evolution—but it is still something rare and wonderful. In a sense, this entire network may almost be alive! Whether through slow change to the general matrix, the springing up of unusual forms, or even a deepening of the individuality of the virtual inhabitants, I suspect that the algorithms have already had an effect." He settled back, smiling again, clearly pleased with the prospect. "We have no idea what this network can become—all we know is that it is far more complex and vital than any mere virtual reality simulation."
"So," Martine said, "this is the crux."
"Exactly." Catur Ramsey nodded. "We all can guess both the good and bad that might come from this network. The good—a place like no other, almost a new universe for humankind to protect and explore and study. The bad—uncontrolled growth of pseudo-evolutionary information organisms. Possible contamination of the worldwide net. Who knows what else? Now, do you really, really want to put those potentialities into the hands of the same corporations that built it—and their lawyers?"
Renie broke the long, uncomfortable silence. "Since we couldn't bring ourselves to kill off the Other's children, you're obviously not going to suggest we blow up the entire network. But sending it off into space doesn't seem to fit the bill this time. So what's the alternative? You look like you have an alternative in mind,"
Sellars nodded. "We hide it."
"What?" Dumbfounded, Renie looked at !Xabbu, but to her astonishment he was smiling. She turned back to Sellars. "How in the hell can you hide it? Del Ray Chiume, just for one, has already been repeating what I told him about the network on every newsnet that can get a feed out of downtown Durban. There must be others, too—something this big won't just vanish. People are filing court cases already, for goodness' sake."
"And I am one of them," said Ramsey. "No, we can't pretend it doesn't exist."
"But what we show them won't necessarily be the real thing," Sellars explained. "Don't forget, I have a great deal of control over the network now. In fact, with enough processing power—power I'm sure the corporations and governments concerned will be happy to supply—I can reconstitute the entire network for them. But I don't even have to do that—I can just give them the code and let them do it themselves.
"However, that doesn't mean what they get will be the network we all experienced, especially if I sanitize their version first to remove anything that was not in the Grail Brotherhood's original code—that should make sure they don't get hold of any of the Other's mutated algorithms, which didn't exist until he found my experiments. Meanwhile, the true network can exist in careful isolation on the free-floating private web I've put together, based on the TreeHouse model. There are sympathetic parties who will support us. We can keep our network entirely separate."
"Separate, yes," said Martine, "but secret?"
"If we allow very few people to enter, I think we might be able to manage it. Remember, Otherland is not really a place, it's an idea—an idea that can be moved at a moment's notice if sufficient preparations have been made."
"And who would be allowed to enter this separate, secret place?" Martine asked.
"You, of course—all of you. And selected guests of our choice. That is why we call you founding members of the Otherland Preservation Trust. If you agree, that is. If you can imagine some better alternative, please tell me."
Renie listened to the others—all except !Xabbu—as they began to talk and argue, struggling to make sense of what had been said, but she wanted a more crucial question answered. "Why did you smile?" she asked !Xabbu. "Do you think this is a good idea?"
"Of course," he said. "The big and strong cannot help but draw attention to themselves—they will always battle each other. The small and silent will hide and survive."
"But do we have a right to do that?"
He shrugged, but he was stilt smiling. "Did the shining lights—the information life-forms, as that fellow Kunohara called them—did they have a right to make the stories of my people their own? Who knows, but the world is different because of it. Who do you trust, Renie? These people, our friends . . . our tribe . . . or people who have never been here and who have not fought together to survive, as we have?"
She nodded, but she was still troubled.
"What about you, Mr. Sellars?" she asked, stilling the last of the questioning voices. "I believe you are a good man. Do you feel comfortable taking on so much responsibility? You can call us a trust, but in the end it's you we will all be trusting. Because we don't have the power you have. You will be God in this new universe."
"Only for a while," he said. "Because I am working even now to put myself out of a job." He held up a gnarled hand. "Have you wondered why, with all the resources of the Otherland network, I haven't chosen a more attractive appearance? Because this is the real Patrick Sellars—burned, twisted, all but dead. Or it was, until I found a way to lose my crippled body. But I don't want to forget it. You won't see me manifesting as Jove, throwing thunderbolts." He grinned. "Please! I'd kill myself laughing. But it's a serious question, Renie, and the only real answer is . . . no, I don't trust myself with so much power, even if it is power over a universe very few people will ever know about. But I don't know anyone else I would trust with such singular power either. That's why I need you all to help me make decisions."