Children of Scarabaeus (12 page)
“Oh, yes,” Aila said. “They do their best work in teams. We could never manage the complexity of an ecosystem like Prisca’s without their efforts.”
“Do they understand what they’re doing?”
“Not exactly. They know nothing about biology and ecosystems. And this visual interface is only for show. They don’t appear to need visual cues once they’re jacked in together. We’ve developed an interface that allows them to assess and modify the datastream without understanding the specifics. They look at the alien eco-specs and nudge them toward the Terran ideal, but to them it’s just a datastream.”
“You don’t trust the biocyph to do this by itself?” That was how it worked on normal terraforming projects.
“In extensive sims, we tried it that way,” Natesa interjected. “With complex ecosystems like this, we find the biocyph is less able to learn from its mistakes. One mistake can take the terraforming down an irreversible path of evolution, and then the Terran ideal can never be reclaimed.”
“That’s why we need constant monitoring.” Aila displayed a series of worksheets on the nearest holoviz. “In the lab we have Caleb Chessell collecting data from the planet to create error logs—evolution paths that deviate too far from the Terran ideal. Then the children work through each log to nudge the errors back on track before it’s too late.”
“Fixing mistakes on the fly?”
“Exactly.”
It was an unusual approach. Biocyph usually worked best when left to fix its own errors. Human intervention was only required during the setup phase.
Edie glanced around the sparse classroom. It seemed to her remarkably bare and lifeless for a children’s workspace. It was simply a lab stacked with consoles. Natesa worked in luxury while the children spent their days in this sterile cell.
Natesa excused herself and Edie settled into a seat to learn more. As the children worked quietly, Edie had the chance to find out more about Aila. She was a Crib cypherteck with twenty years’ terraforming experience, and had been brought in from Crib Central to train the children at Natesa’s school when it first opened. She didn’t appear to have any real affinity for the children, but they didn’t seem to care. They wrapped themselves up in the biocyph. Their enthusiasm and concentration amazed Edie. She’d never particularly enjoyed her training—perhaps because it had been a lonely endeavor. For a while she’d attended a regular school where she had classmates, mostly the children of milits doing their tour in Halen Crai. But when cypherteck training intensified, the institute had isolated her.
From then on, Edie’s companions had been her tutors and
the datastream. She’d done what she was told—most of the time—because she hadn’t known there were options. Her sheltered life there had stripped away all the other pathways her life might have taken until only Natesa’s plan for her remained.
Would these children come to view the Crib in the same way as she did? Or would they remain loyal citizens, devoted to Natesa’s cause, never questioning their so-called duty?
The children broke for lunch, moving to an informal seating area in the corner of the classroom to eat from bento boxes delivered by the kitchenhand. As Aila engrossed herself in work at her console, Galeon sidled up to Edie and tugged on her sleeve.
“Where’s your friend?”
“Finn? He works on Deck G.”
“That’s where they’re making the beanstalk.”
“That’s right.”
“I hope they let us visit Prisca. I want to ride that beanstalk.”
“It’s rather dangerous. The planet, I mean.” With active BRAT seeds on the surface, constant shielding would be necessary to prevent the retroviruses from altering human DNA. Edie had to trust that the dirtside base was adequately protected, because there were already people stationed there. She didn’t share Galeon’s enthusiasm to go down to the surface.
“She’s not dangerous,” Galeon retorted. “She’s not well.”
“Who’s not well? The planet? What makes you say that?”
“She sings the wrong tune. That’s what all these are for.” His arm swept across the room to encompass the consoles and holoviz displays from Prisca’s eco-specs. “Can’t you feel how sick she is? All out of balance.”
This world had, of course, evolved in a perfectly normal manner before CCU arrived and planted biocyph all over it. Galeon’s description helped her understand the children a little better, however. They saw an ecosystem in flux as damaged, and the Terran ideal as the cure. It made sense that,
to them, bringing the planet into balance meant creating a Terran environment.
“Finn said he would play Pegasaw with me,” Galeon said suddenly. “You should bring him here.”
“I don’t think that’s what he said, was it?”
Galeon stared at her, his soft brow furrowed. “I’m the only boy. Did you notice? Everyone else here is a girl, even you. You should bring Finn up here so we can hang out.”
Hanging out with Galeon was the last thing Natesa would allow Finn to do. Edie felt for the boy, though.
“What about Caleb Chessell?”
Galeon ducked his head, leaning toward her to whisper. “We don’t like him much. Prisca doesn’t, either.”
“He’s very…” Edie searched for an appropriate word. “Clever.”
Galeon wrinkled his nose. “Listen, you tell me where Finn’s room is and I’ll bring Pegasaw and we’ll have a match.”
“We’re—His room is on Deck D at the moment. How will you sneak out?”
“Which room on Deck D? How many doors from the main lift?”
“Uh, you turn left out of the lift and then it’s the second on the right,” Edie said, curious to see if Galeon could actually make it to their quarters.
“Tell him I’m a very good player, so he’d better practice.”
Edie couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll tell him.”
“Raena,” Aila called to one of the girls as the children put away their lunch boxes. “Why don’t you show Edie what you’ve been working on today?”
The girl gave a shy smile and waited for Edie to join her.
“Raena didn’t do a very good job of it,” Galeon declared.
“Galeon! Please return to your own work,” Aila scolded.
“Where’s Pris?” he demanded. “She was supposed to partner with Raena.”
“Pris is still not well enough for school today.”
“He’s right,” Raena said quietly. “I had to partner with Hanna and she makes the biocyph angry.”
The other girl tossed a mop of straight black hair out of her eyes and scowled over her shoulder.
“All right, everyone. Hush now,” Aila said. “Back to your exercises. Raena, go ahead.”
“Hanna didn’t like this one much, and it didn’t like her,” Raena whispered to Edie as her console lit up. “But we finished it on time.”
The holoviz that bloomed over the console no doubt made little sense to the girl. Edie recognized the representation as a subsection of an ecosystem’s physiology—the pathways of a few proteins and their interactions across every species in the ecosystem.
Edie jacked in. The datastream flooded her splinter and she felt her senses cave inward as her concentration turned toward the music. Ignoring the visuals, she followed Raena riding the crest of the melody, dashing from one tier to another as if looking for something.
“There it is,” Raena said. She snagged a tiny riff, a jagged sequence that was clearly out of place. It had leaked through from another tier. “Can you feel it?”
Raena turned the riff around and shuffled it back into place with surprising agility—Edie couldn’t have done much better herself.
“See? It feels much better now.”
“Feels?”
Edie repeated.
“You don’t think so?” Raena shut down the holoviz abruptly and stared at her.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“That’s how they talk about the biocyph,” Aila explained, looking at Raena proudly. “They always refer to its moods, its feelings. It’s quite remarkable. The other cyphertecks were as confounded as you, but it seems to work for them. The biocyph is ‘happy’ when the team works well together, or ‘upset’ when they fail to fix a problem, that sort of thing.”
So this was a game to them, and the biocyph was their playmate, complete with personality and moods.
“I understand you experience the biocyph as music?” Aila said.
“Yes. But most cyphertecks I’ve met describe it in visual terms. My trainer would talk about patterns and numbers—it meant nothing to me.”
“I suppose emotional responses are as appropriate as any other interpretation. After all, human brains can’t deal with the raw data. It’s not surprising the Talasi experience it differently from other cyphertecks. The biocyph in their…
your
cells helps bind the wet-teck interface more intimately to the cerebral cortex.”
Aila spoke so matter-of-factly about taking children from their home, grafting wet-teck to their brains, and training them to be dutiful workers for the Crib. Edie would never get used to that. And yet, looking around the classroom, the children didn’t appear to be unhappy.
“How many children are in the training program?” she asked.
“You mean at the school? Twenty-four, not including the four here on the
Learo Dochais
. We brought the most promising group with us. They miss Pris’s input right now. She’s the eldest girl.”
Snippets of conversation flashed through Edie’s mind.
Pris is sick…not well enough for school today…
“What’s wrong with Pris?” She heard the tremble in her voice.
“I’m not exactly sure.” Aila looked uncomfortable. “They won’t tell me.”
Edie knew. Suddenly, she knew. Muttering an excuse, she stumbled out of the classroom and fell against the bulkhead outside, struggling for air. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that Theron would use a child to torture another human being. Now it made sense. He could have told the girl anything, made it into a game—she didn’t know what she was doing. And now she was lying in a coma.
Edie found herself outside the infirmary before she’d consciously made the decision to start walking. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe…
A screen surrounded the only occupied bed. Edie couldn’t bring herself to step inside. She viewed the scene through a crack where the screen was slightly open. Despite what she’d braced herself to see, it took her a moment to comprehend. An unconscious child. The waifish face and dark intense brows were all too familiar. As was the faint circular scar on her temple.
A monitor display arched over the girl’s head. A med tom in one corner blinked in silent surveillance. As Edie moved closer, Natesa came into view, sitting at the girl’s side and holding her hand.
“Hey, you can’t be here,” someone said behind Edie.
Natesa looked up and locked eyes with Edie. Her expression changed from concern to annoyance—but the concern had looked real. Perhaps Natesa really did care about this child.
Natesa’s gaze flicked to the medic coming up behind Edie. “No, it’s all right,” she said. “Edie, you may come in.”
Somehow Edie managed to step behind the screen with
out her legs giving way. She felt hollow inside, like all the emotion had been sucked out of her.
“Her wet-teck overloaded,” Natesa said quietly. “We’re still not sure how serious the neural damage is.”
Edie didn’t know what to say.
I did this.
How could she continue pushing away the sense of guilt with her victim right here in front of her?
“She’s my daughter,” Natesa said to break the silence. “My adopted daughter—or she will be, when the final paperwork comes through.”
That struck Edie as incongruous. Natesa had never displayed any maternal inclinations.
“How did you persuade the Talasi elders to give her up?”
“You know how those people live, Edie. How they treated you. Legally, it wasn’t hard to remove those children who displayed exceptional talents that the Crib needed. We compensated the Talasi by helping to reforest their lands. And why do you care? You’ve told me time and again that you don’t consider yourself one of them.”
True enough. The Talasi had rejected Edie even before she was born because her mother, a visiting anthropologist from the Crib, had “seduced” one of their men—an act they viewed as a betrayal of trust.
Noting Edie’s scowl, Natesa added, “You have no grounds to question my judgment or the actions of CCU.” She stroked the child’s arm. “Pris was one of the first students at the school, and the most promising. She’s had a much better life in state care. When you disappeared…that was very hard on me, Edie. I felt like I’d lost a daughter.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Natesa gave a take-it-or-leave-it shrug. The woman had certainly paid a lot of attention to Edie’s health and education, but only to further her own career. She’d never shown love. And now Pris was Edie’s replacement—not that Edie was jealous. Much as she’d fantasized as a child that her own mother would come back for her some day, she’d never wanted Natesa to step into those shoes.
At least, she’d never consciously wanted that. The way Natesa doted on Pris stirred deep emotions that Edie struggled to keep down.
“What kind of childhood are you giving these kids?” she asked. Because it was easier to deal with generalities than confront her personal feelings.
“I realize you’ve never appreciated the opportunities I gave you, but don’t assume these children will be so ungrateful. After the difficulties you had—and continue to have—in adjusting to a new life outside the camps, we decided it would be better to raise these children in our care from the start. They will be happy and productive Crib citizens. They’ll traverse the Reach a hundred times in their working lives, to the benefit of all citizens.” Natesa seemed oblivious to the fact that her choice of words demonstrated exactly the attitude Edie so resented.
“And their entire worth as human beings will be measured by this talent, which
you’ve
developed and honed. You have no idea what that feels like—to be a pawn instead of a person. Dammit, you even named this planet after her. Do you know what a burden that must be?”
“I’m sorry you feel this way,” Natesa said with a sigh. “But I understand. I really do. I tried to protect you, but there were some things I couldn’t control. Bethany’s violent death. Your bodyguard Lukas—I know he was like a big brother to you, but in the end he let us all down. You used to run away all the time, do you remember that? Even before this whole debacle with the rovers, your loyalty was in question. You caused me many a sleepless night. Colonel Theron’s sadism notwithstanding, I intend to avoid that sort of drama with these children. No distractions. No unnecessary outside influences.”
