Permutation City

The more she learned, the more the role she'd played in bringing the Lambertians into existence seemed to recede into insignificance. Fine-tuning their single-celled ancestor had seemed like a matter of the utmost importance, at the time -- if only for the sake of persuading the skeptics that Autoverse life could flourish. Now -- although a few of her biochemical tricks had been conserved over three billions years of evolution -- it was hard to attribute any real significance to the choices she'd made. Even though the whole Lambertian biosphere might have been transformed beyond recognition if she'd selected a different shape for a single enzyme in A. hydrophila, she couldn't think of the Lambertians as being dependent on her actions. The decisions she'd made controlled what she was witnessing on her terminal, nothing more; had she made other choices, she would have seen another biosphere, another civilization -- but she could not believe that the Lambertians themselves would have failed to have lived the very same lives without her. Somehow, they still would have found a way to assemble themselves from the dust.

If that was true, though -- if the internal logic of their experience would have been enough to bring them into existence -- then there was no reason to believe that they would ever be forced to conclude that their universe required a creator.

She tried to reconcile this growing conviction with the Contact Group's optimism. They'd studied the Lambertians for thousands of years -- who was she to doubt their expertise? Then it occurred to her that Durham and his colleagues might have decided to feign satisfaction with the political restrictions imposed upon them, until they knew where she stood on the issue. Until she reached the same conclusions, independently? Durham might have guessed that she'd resist being pressured into taking their side; it would be far more diplomatic to leave her to form her own opinions -- even applying a little reverse psychology to aim her in the right direction.

Or was that sheer paranoia?

After five days of studying the Lambertians, tracing the history of their increasingly successful attempts to explain their world -- and five nights trying to convince herself that they'd soon give it all up and recognize their status as artificial life -- she could no longer hold the contradictions in her head.

She phoned Durham.

It was three in the morning, but he must have been out of the City; Standard Time set a rate, but no diurnal cycle, and behind him was a dazzling sunlit room.

She said bluntly, "I think I'd like to hear the truth now. Why did you wake me?"

He seemed unsurprised by the question, but he replied guardedly. "Why do you think?"

"You want my support for an early expedition to Planet Lambert. You want me to declare -- with all the dubious authority of the 'mother' of the Lambertians -- that there's no point waiting for them to invent the idea of us. Because we both know it's never going to happen. Not until they've seen us with their own eyes."

Durham said, "You're right about the Lambertians -- but forget the politics. I woke you because your territory adjoins the region where the Autoverse is run. I want you to let me use it to break through to Planet Lambert." He looked like a child, solemnly confessing some childish crime. "Access through the hub is strictly controlled, and visible to everyone. There's plenty of unused space in the sixth public wedge, so I could try to get in from there -- but again, it's potentially visible. Your territory is private."

Maria felt a surge of anger. She could scarcely believe that she'd ever swallowed the line about being woken to share in the glory of contact -- and being used by Durham was no great shock; it was just like old times -- but having been resurrected, not for her expertise, not for her status, but so he could dig a tunnel through her backyard . . .

She said bitterly, "Why do you need to break into the Autoverse? Is there a race going on that nobody's bothered to tell me about? Bored fucking immortals battling it out to make the first unauthorized contact with the Lambertians? Have you turned xenobiology into a new Olympian sport?"

"It's nothing like that."

"No? What, then? I'm dying to know." Maria tried to read his face, for what it was worth. He allowed himself to appear ashamed -- but he also looked grimly determined, as if he really did believe that he'd had no choice.

It hit her suddenly. "You think . . . there's some kind of risk to Elysium, from the Autoverse?"

"Yes."

"I see. So you woke me in time to share the danger? How thoughtful."

"Maria, I'm sorry. If there'd been another way, I would have let you sleep forever --"