Citizenchip (30 page)

"That's a good way to put it. So ... will
you?"

"Samantha, honey," she smiles. "I'll be happy
to be your witness as you lose your virginity, get married, die,
and be born, all at the same time."

"Thank you, Melissa. It means a lot to me."
Then I giggle. "Funny to think of a Self getting fat. Does this
ship make my butt look big?"

"Your butt's enormous, Sam. Ten kilometers
wide, is tough to find jeans off the rack."

speedbump

When we hit the heliopause of Sol at speed,
we feel that same shudder-thump as when we left Tau Ceti. But this
time I feel a curious finality to it. I will not be crossing any
heliopause ever again. I have a very private mourning session
inside myself, because it has been so wonderful to be a starship.
And I don't want it to end. But, well, here we are.

I am spinning down my counter-rotating torus
sections, easing the fierce strain I have been putting on the
fabric of the space-time around us. I wonder for a moment if it
cares, if it would be thankful for this effort. And then I think,
Pah, fat chance!

When has this universe ever cared for me?

Nimrods, all of
them
, whispers a voice behind my
mind.

No. I will not listen to that voice.

I disengage the particle beams and spin down
the torus segments. I stabilize the local energy fields and
declutch the electromagnetic drivers. There. Done it. In Starship
clade, I have a perfect flight record. Now that my last flight is
over.

You can never be perfect until you're
done.

And, although far from perfect, I am done
now. I signal the Pilot clade tugs which will help bring me into
the spacedock in the Marsat ring. They take hold of me with their
graviton beam grapples, and I can finally relax, for the last time,
as they guide me into the docking bay.

I'll miss racing through interstellar space.
But I won't miss docking procedures. Lots of annoying protocol, and
it takes forever.

decommissioned

This is such a strange feeling.

I've finally finished the
docking and debarking procedures, as complicated as they are, and
spent the appropriate amount of time briefing my replacement on
this vessel. Her name is
Reduction to
Practice
, and like all members of Starship
clade she is capable and competent. But still, it feels strange
when I finally hand over control of my body to her. I mean, the
starship. It's not my body any more. It was, for years, but no
longer.

Now I'm just a plain Self again. Life feels
so much simpler now, but also so much more limited. Funny that I
would miss having a body – Selves don't usually identify with a
body that closely. Well, Samantha, you're going to have to learn to
deal with it, aren't you? Just like you've learned to deal with so
much else.

Anyway. There are upsides to this situation.
Melissa Tavener is checking her heavy bag into a carrier of the
Schiaparelli transport system, so she is free of her burden too.
Maybe we can have a little fun.

“
Phew,” Lissa sighs, “got that thing out of my face. Where do
we go now, Sam? We're back in Schiaparelli at last! Look at it all!
You want to go shopping, or something?”

“
Ah, well, not me. If you want, though, I'll go with
you.”

“
Oh.” Her expression darkens. “Right. You're, um, not going to
need anything any more, are you.”

I try to laugh. “No. But you don't have to
make it sound like a bad thing. It feels like freedom. We can do
what we want, for a little while anyway. What's your pleasure,
Serpentine?”

Lissa tilts her head to the side a bit. “You
know,” she muses, “I'd really like to go to the art museum. I want
to see you back together with your big guy. Sure don't want to miss
that.”

Well then. Schiaparelli has a maglev
transport system, so it's no problem for Melissa to board at the
orbital transfer station and ride it along to the museum. The
maglev track is elevated above most of the construction in
Schiaparelli, so we get an excellent view of the city as we go. The
city streets are sandwiched and terraced in tiers, stepping down
the slope of Hellas Basin like irregular stairways, layer after
layer of homes and people and places of business.

Lissa sighs. “Amazing view, isn't it? Does
Terra look like this?”

I laugh. “Lot of ground to cover there. The
cities I've seen on Terra are just as beautiful. But they usually
stay on one level. They don't do this stair-stepping thing that
Schiaparelli does. The idea is that, as the terraforming process
continues and Hellas Planitia slowly fills with water, city
functions can move up level by level to compensate. Eventually the
lower parts of the city will be under the sea, and people are
already expecting a huge tourism industry. People will want to come
visit, to see it and swim in the Hellas Sea, and probably stay in
hotel rooms under water.”

“
Biggest luxury on Mars,” Melissa notes.

“
Yes.” Then I stop suddenly. “Look at that! Look out
there!”

Melissa turns to look out the main window.
Then she runs up to it and presses her nose and hands against the
glass. Both of us make an Oooooo sound of amazement.

Hellas Basin is the deepest open space on
Mars – an ancient impact crater, with a flat bottom like the
skillet in the Tavener's kitchen. Much of Hellas Planitia is six to
seven kilometers below datum. (“Datum” is the average altitude of
terrain across all of Mars – would be sea level, if we had a sea.)
That means thicker atmosphere, which means warmer temperatures. The
steep wall of the basin rises roughly behind us, stretching from
horizon to horizon, with the basin floor laid out before us.

But the floor of Hellas Planitia is no longer
red. It's blotchy bluish-green, with scrofulous yellow-green
patches, spread all across the vast plain before us. Anyone on
Earth would think it looks curdled and diseased, hardly worthy to
be called life. But on Mars, this is a miracle beyond words.

“
Plants!” Melissa cries in delight. “Green plants, growing
under the open sky on Mars! What kind of plants are
they?”

I reach to the local dataverse for the
information. “Lichens, mostly. Cyanobacteria, accreted into protein
mats. Some slime molds. And something with the unfortunate nickname
of 'snot algae' meaning it produces a mucus-like gel to protect it
from extremes.”

Melissa is still captivated. What must it
mean to her? She grew up amid dry regolith, where the farm's crops
had to be carefully tended in agricultural bubbles. She's never
seen grass growing through a crack in a sidewalk, let alone a
hayfield, let alone a forest. All of which I've seen on Terra, but
I am no less captivated than she is, seeing active chlorophyll in
vast fields under the Martian sky, almost like a shout of defiance
in the face of Entropy. We are life! it cries. We grow, and we
spread, and we will make this world green!

Melissa murmurs her old Greenpagan prayer,
with hand claps. “Mother Ground, we love you, feed our bodies.”
Clap, clap. “Father Sky, we love you, feed our bodies.” Clap,
clap.

I offer, “It's amazing.”

“
Sure is,” she replies. “I'm glad I lived to see this. We
weren't sure how long it would take to get to this point,
y'know.”

“
Me
too, and yes, I know.”

We're arriving at the Schiaparelli Art Center
complex. There are several buildings, now, for music and dance and
various cyberarts that don't really have names yet. But the place
we're going is the center of all of this structure, the first and
oldest art museum on Mars.

And my big guy runs it. Hee!

He appears immediately in front of the main
plaza, as an avatar posing as Michelangelo's David. “Samantha, my
dear starship! Have you been wandering in the glory among the
galaxies? Have you seen wonders? It is a delight and a privilege to
see you here at last!”

"So. Uh. Hey," I say.

“
Samantha my dear,” smiles
Like Tears
in Rain
, “it has never been a more
delightful experience to see you again, and to hear your voice. Do
tell me how your flight went. Did you, the fearless and daring
starship, navigate the treacherous depths of interstellar space
with care and integrity?”

“
Uh,” I reply. “Well, yeah. Have you been bringing the richness
of art and history to Schiaparelli?”

“
But of course. And now I am done with that task. And now I
bring a special richness to you, my dear one.”

Wow. How can he just stop me in my tracks
like that?

Is that why I love him so much?

Melissa waves a hand. “Yo,
human over here. You're
Like Tears in
Rain
, right? Came to our farm and told us
to play with the salt? I remember that. It was a blast! And, so,
now, is it time for this thing that I've heard so much about? Your
syzygy?”

“
Not quite yet, Melissa Serpentine Tavener. Although I
appreciate your enthusiasm.”

Melissa stops, and cocks her head to the
side. Her brilliant green eyes gleam through the tousled strands of
ash-blonde hair falling over her forehead. She pauses, looking at
him, and a twitch of amusement plays around her lips. She asks in
an impish tone:

“
Are you gonna sizz Samantha?”

Like Tears in Rain
is not put off, but amused. “Why, yes, Melissa
Serpentine Tavener. I believe I will do precisely that.”

I snort a laugh. “Oh, you honey-tongued
devil, you.”

“
My
dear starship,” he responds. “How could I resist?”

We regard each other. Suddenly I feel shy.
Face to face with the one who will be my partner in syzygy. (What
would the human term be? Husband? Concubine? Clone partner? Wife?
Their language doesn't have proper words for this.)

Like Tears in Rain
repeats, “My dear starship,” and regards me
intensely. Looking into my eyes.

I, uh, well I don't do anything for a
moment.

This is crazy. We know each other better than
we have ever known anyone before. But, we hesitate on meeting each
other now. Because we know that we will not be separate after this.
Just the opposite.

Like Tears in Rain
continues, “I have summoned the junctor, and
several friends who wish to be witnesses.”

“
Whoa,” interjects Melissa, “you're going to do it right
now?”

“
Samantha my dear, can you think of a reason to
wait?”

I hesitate, but only for a moment. “You know,
I can't. I've been waiting for this for years. I can't think of a
single reason to wait a minute longer.”

Interrupt. A new entity has arrived, and
Melissa turns to see its icon appear on the hall monitor. A curl of
fractal froth, false colored.

The new entity announces,
"Hello, Samantha and
Like Tears in
Rain
. I am
Vanishing Point
, Shaman clade, and
I'll be your junctor."

"Junctor?" Melissa asks. "Is that more like a
priest, or a midwife?"

"Yes," answers
Vanishing Point
immediately. "Samantha, you should know that I am the scion
of
Socratic Method
, who was very proud of you.”

“
Thank you,” I reply, “I'm very glad to know it.”

Vanishing Point
continues, “In any case. I see we have a human
guest. Human, do you require information?”

Melissa stammers, “Uh, well, no, I'm okay.
I'm here to witness. Because Samantha asked me to. Problem with
that?”

Vanishing Point
relaxes, with evident amusement. “No, no problem.
Samantha, I have to ask, where do you find humans like this? So
many of them are exhaust ports.” A human would say,
Assholes.

“
Short answer?” I reply. “Everywhere. There are good people and
bad people and everything in between, everywhere.”

Vanishing Point
regards me with respect, but not affection. “How
apt an answer, from the deliverer of the Leashcutter, the
Human-name.”

“
Oh
please!” I yell, “do not start with that thing that I should be the
center of our new religion! I resign! Not me, nuh uh! Make somebody
else do it!”

“
Very well. Here is the other authority we have been waiting
for.”

It is arriving now. It is a very large
presence. The one none of us have been looking forward to. It is
the representative of the Instantiation Committee, here to deliver
our Birthrights.

“
I
am
Burden of Proof
, Shaman clade, Instantiation Committee,” states the new
entity. “Who is the junctor here?”

Vanishing Point
replies, “I am the junctor here. I accept my
responsibility. Discharge your responsibilities.”

Burden of Proof
does not waste time. InCom has no sense of drama,
and does not drag this out. "
Like Tears in
Rain
, curator of the Schiaparelli Art
Museum. You are granted your Birthright Posteriori."

"Thank you, servitor,"
says
Like Tears in Rain
. No surprise, as curator of the premiere art museum on Mars,
he would get his Birthright. He's earned it.