The Colonists (The Movement Trilogy) (25 page)

Yes, I did, Evelyn says. Varien says he's well.

Catrine falls back against her pillow. Good.
 

Who is he? This David.

It's a long story, Catrine says.
 

We have a few days yet, Evelyn says. Would talking make things worse?
 

I honestly don't know.

Tell me about her. About you and Tasneem. What was it like?

•
 
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•

She was beautiful, Catrine says. She didn't think so. She wasn't a classic beauty, with perfect features. She thought her nose was unlovable, that her eyes were too far apart. And she never knew what to do with her hair. She would just throw it up behind her head and forget about it.
 

How old was she when you met her? Evelyn asks.

Catrine thinks back. I think almost five hundred forty.
 

Jesus, Evelyn says. Could you tell? What was it like for her?
 

She looked as old as I look now, Catrine says. She was young, had been young of body forever.
 

Evelyn smiles. Can you imagine keeping a fit frame for five centuries? It's hard enough to work out for a couple of days straight. At least for me.

Right? Catrine says. But she looked young and healthy and alive every day I knew her. The only hint that things weren't right was her hair.
 

What do you mean?
 

Do you know much about Soma? Catrine asks.
 

Evelyn shakes her head.
 

Soma was the life-extension treatment that Tasneem underwent during the first space age.
 

On the space stations?
 

Yes, Catrine says. She and a couple of hundred other people had the treatment performed.
 

Evelyn says, So how come she's the only old-old-old person I've ever heard of?
 

Because she's the only one left, Catrine says. Soma killed everybody else.
 

What? How?

I don't know. I don't know if they ever figured it out. Just -- it turned a person's hair white, and then they would die. Simple as that.
 

Did Tasneem have white hair? Evelyn asks.

Not exactly. She had a single white stripe in her hair. She was proud of it. To her it meant that Soma had failed to get her. It was a survival scar. But -- Evelyn, that's why I asked about David.
 

Alright. Who is he?
 

Catrine says, Okay, this part might be hard to explain.

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Evelyn paces back and forth in the small compartment.
 

Let me make sure I understand this, she says. He was a brilliant scientist, but he was stupid enough to take a black-market extension treatment.
 

Amrita, Catrine says. Yes.

Right. Amrita. Okay. But he took it knowing it would kill him.

No, Catrine says. There was some small chance of success. He wasn't stupid.

Why didn't he just have the Soma treatment?
 

There were rules then, Catrine says. David didn't qualify.
 

Alright. So he dies. But through some magic --
 

It wasn't magic.

Through some
whatever
, he somehow managed to turn himself into a computer.

No, Catrine says. No. Not a computer.
 

That's the part I don't get. You're telling me that five hundred years ago he did something we can't even do now. Don't you think that if we could, we'd all live on some network so that we would never die?
 

Maybe, Catrine says. All I know is that David was far, far ahead of his time, and he managed to do it.
 

So now he lives on a piece of jewelry.

A databand.
 

A databand. Okay. I'm sorry, this is just so difficult to believe.
 

It's alright, Catrine says. I know.
 

So he lives on this band, and does what?
 

Whatever he wants.
 

I mean, he can't have sex. He doesn't have a body. Right? So that's out.

David doesn't need physical stimulation in any way. He's himself, but he's not a physical self.
 

So he does -- what?
 

Catrine says, David's essence is still there. He's a scientist, Evelyn. He's been working on something for several hundred years. And -- well, this part is just suspicion on my part, but I think that David's the reason Soma didn't kill Tasneem like the others.
 

What do you mean? Evelyn asks.

I think David found a way to stave off the Soma infection once it began, Catrine says. I think he stopped it from killing her. But I also think he's been actively stopping it from killing her ever since.
 

Jesus. So if Tasneem's dead --

Then either someone killed her, or someone took David away from her.
 

And the Soma infection finally got to her.

Maybe. I don't know. I need to see her, Catrine says, her eyes filling with tears again.

What about David? Evelyn asks. What if he's missing?
 

Then we have to do whatever it takes to find him, Evelyn. And I do mean whatever. If we have to blow up Mars this time, we do it.
 

Evelyn studies Catrine's face. You really mean that. Why?

Catrine takes a deep breath. Because David's going to save us all.

DAVID

David flexes within the databand, feeling for the first time the limitations of his home. Nearly five hundred years is one hell of a lifespan for a single device, but it's unprecedented for a device's data storage space to be so adequate for so long. He can almost imagine himself as a child who has lived his entire life inside of a box, and has only now, as he has grown taller and wider, begun to feel the walls closing about him.

When Varien wakes, David decides, he will put the boy to work solving his problem.
 

He is relieved that this is the most pressing problem remaining to be solved. With the return of Catrine, the
Maasi
has a first officer once again. And with David, a new captain. David had felt the reluctance of the crew to step into that hallowed position after Tasneem's death from Soma poisoning.

David is disappointed, after some research, to discover that he is not the first all-digital captain of a spacecraft. There are nearly sixteen A.I.-captained ships in the system. But none, so far as he can tell, are captained by a former, now digital, human being.
 

That is one first he is quite capable of owning.

Varien's sleep patterns become less regular, and David waits for the boy to awaken. Fourteen minutes later, the boy does, and David says, Good morning, Varien.

Varien's brain activity demonstrates a flare of annoyance, as he always does when David speaks to him first upon waking.
 

I apologize for annoying you, David says, but we have much to do today, and I'm afraid the first thing can't wait.
 

Fine, okay, Varien thinks. What is it?
 

I'm a fat little mollusk, David says, and I'm afraid I've finally outgrown my shell.

Varien registers confusion, and David remembers that the boy has never seen the sea, and has no idea what a mollusk is, or even a shell.

I'm sorry, David says. What I mean to say, in plain terms, is that the databand is rapidly running out of storage space, and I desperately need a new home before vital information starts getting overwritten.
 

Just don't overwrite anything, Varien thinks.

Completely out of my control, unfortunately, David says. And as you know, some of the information I hold is quite precious. Please don't make me risk it by delaying a solution.

Right, Varien thinks, his brain still a little cobwebby. Right. Okay. But can I pee first?
   

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The solution, as it happens, is simply to keep David jacked into the holotable on the loading deck. It is a strange place for the captain of a ship to reside, but David's options are quite restricted. The table, however, has sixteen internal drives that he browses, purges of any excess information, and begins creating duplicates and triplicates of his Asiel data within. He feels the constraints of the databand lift almost immediately.

The secondary benefit is that David is constantly visible to the crew, who, as it turns out, seem to quite like him. He had anticipated suspicion, but there is little of it. The crew seems to view him as a memento of their beloved Tasneem, and he is pleased to indulge their requests to relive memories that they had long forgotten.
 

David is, after all, in possession of Tasneem's history.
 

He wishes for the thousandth time that he had convinced her to back herself up onto a drive as he had done, but Tasneem had never made time for such a thing. He knew that deep inside, she wished to live within her own body for as long as she could, and that when the end came, she would welcome it.
 

Five hundred years, as it turned out, was an uncomfortably long time for a human being to live.
 

He had acclimated to it in his current state, but had the Amrita treatment worked for David all those centuries ago, he thought he might understand Tasneem's secret feelings better. He remembered what his face looked like, and he wasn't sure he would have enjoyed seeing it reflected back at him for a thousand years.
 

Varien comes to him late in the evening, carrying a worn notebook.
 

The audio cable in the holotable has proven impossible to replace, so David signs to Varien. The crew has, with varying measures of success, attempted to learn sign language to communicate with David. While he can hear them just fine, they still cannot hear him.

Your first draft? David signs.

Yeah, Varien says aloud. Want to hear it?
 

Of course, David signs. Go ahead.
 

I have to say, Varien says, that I'm feeling a little pressure here. You set an impressively high bar for this broadcast. I'm a little scared, and really not sure I'm up to this.

What high bar? David signs. All I said was that your message would end the war and bring peace to all mankind.
 

Ha, Varien says.
 

Please, David signs. Read.

Varien does, haltingly, and David listens carefully. When the boy finishes, David signs, It's a good start. Your imagery is strong, but it needs to be stronger. Perhaps what you lack is a first-hand knowledge of Earth, Varien. It meant so much to so many people. Your broadcast must capture it vividly.

Tell me about Earth, Varien says.
 

So David does.

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The
Maasi
's repairs take months, under Catrine's supervision. Everyone in the crew pitches in. Tarae and Ishy show everybody how to patch the hull, how to operate the torches, how to repressurize a room and identify hull fractures.
 

Evelyn has decided to stay with the ship as well, and, as it turns out, can cook a mean breakfast from limited ingredients. Even Oona is pleased, and cedes her role of ship's cook quite readily.
 

The ship bobs through the belt until it has been made whole again, and then David instructs Catrine to take them to the inner system. Get us close to Skyresh, he signs to her, and when she reports back to him three weeks later that the
Maasi
is in Mars orbit, quite close to Phobos, he tells her of the next order of business.
 

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•

Outside of the belt, the
Maasi
's broadcast capabilities are once again strong, and David feels as if the ship has found its voice again. He invites the crew to the loading deck, and they all gather around the holotable. David's image sits down, cross-legged, so that he is as close to them all as possible.
 

He signs to Tarae and asks her to translate for him, since some of the crew still struggles with the language.

David begins to sign.
 

Tasneem was a dear friend of mine for nearly all of her life, David signs. When I met her, she was a fresh-faced twelve-year-old girl, with eyes more thoughtful and bright than any I'd ever seen. I was twelve, so my sample set was admittedly very small, but even so, she stood out. We became friends, and remained friends until her death.
 

She was five hundred forty-seven years old when we lost her, he continues. Five hundred forty-seven. Only the men written about in the ancient bibles were reported to have lived longer, and, at least in my day, nobody believed that for a second. Tasneem, however, was the real thing. She was the only person who lived with Soma for so long. As you all know quite well, Soma patients all died within a year of receiving the treatment.
 

Tears slip down Tarae's face as she translates David's signs into words.
 

Nobody could figure out how Tasneem beat Soma, he signs. How did she live so long, when her contemporaries and fellow patients were dropping all around her? Most attributed her survival to strength of character, to her determination to live. And Tasneem demonstrated both, please make no mistake about that.
 

Tarae can barely translate what David signs next.

I'm the reason that Tasneem is dead, David signs.

Tarae's voice breaks, and Varien touches her shoulder and relieves her.
 

I'll continue translating, he says. Go on.

Soma could have been solved, David says. If it hadn't been banned, it could have been corrected. The tiniest of errors in its makeup contributed to its horrible failure. It was unlinking the genetic code that it was supposed to be extending. Now, for as long as you've known her, Tasneem has worn the databand that is plugged into this table right now. It's an extremely old artifact of our former lives, and one that I modified when -- well, when I was still a living, breathing person. This databand was originally a simple data-storage and communications device. I manipulated it a bit, and I've given thanks -- to whom, I have no idea -- for every day of the last five centuries that I did, because those modifications allowed me to stand in the gap. I've been holding Tasneem together since she took Soma. Even she didn't know it.