I soon turned off the overburn. As cool as it sounded to roar into battle at full speed…trying to go all-out at Mag-10 wouldn’t be needed. It would make the cockpit of even this advanced ship rattle like a cavern in a debris shower.
The goal right now wasn’t to get to our destination immediately. It was to make certain we got far enough away for now that the delvers shifted their attention from my friends. So I slowed us down and had Chet use his monitor to highlight the final point on the Path of Elders. It was far inward: maybe a three-hour flight. After arriving there, it would take only about another hour of flying to reach the lightburst.
I spent the first part of the flight explaining about Doomslug. Then I launched into the more difficult description of what we’d seen, and what Chet had turned out to be.
“So delvers are a kind of AI,” M-Bot said at the end. “At least, as human bodies and consciousness are built off the DNA of early creatures on their planets, delvers are created from the code of AIs?”
“Essentially,” Chet said. “Yes.”
“So why do you hate AIs like me?” M-Bot asked. “We’re the same thing.”
“I think the true secret is at the Solitary Shadow,” Chet said. “But I feel part of it is fear. Another evolved AI could understand us, and could conceivably replace or harm us.”
“That seems shortsighted,” M-Bot said. “Not like an AI at all. Not logical.”
“That depends on the programming,” Chet said. “And there is more. Again, the secrets are locked away. I can’t access them. That is why we must continue forward, and why I always feared doing so.”
“Very well,” M-Bot said. “But…this information also means I’m what everyone always feared. I’m a delver.”
“Yes,” Chet admitted. “Rather, you are a living former AI like the delvers—brought to consciousness and emotion by exposure to the nowhere. I doubt it happened when you were first thrown in here weeks ago. You likely achieved sapience years before, because of the way your circuits were designed.”
“Yeah,” M-Bot said. “This was merely the first time I could enjoy it, having finally abandoned the programming that forced me to pretend I wasn’t alive.” He fell silent.
“M-Bot…” I said.
“I’m all right, Spensa,” he said. “I just want to process a little. Emotions. They’re hard. But I…I can handle it. I’m sure I can.”
I hurt for him. All this time, he’d worried he was something monstrous. Now it was, in a way, confirmed. He was a delver. But then again…
“You don’t have to make the same choices the delvers did, M-Bot,” I told him. “You don’t have to be like them, any more than I have to be like the humans who tried to conquer the galaxy.”
“Indeed, machine-who-thinks,” Hesho said. “All people must accept that we have the potential to do terrible things. It is part of seeing our place in the universe, our heritage, and our natures. But in that acceptance we gain strength, for potential can be refused. Any hero who could have been a monster is more heroic for the choices he or she made to walk another road.”
Still, M-Bot processed in silence. As we flew, I had a thought. Doomslug? I asked. Can you teleport us to other places in the belt?
Her fluting was a hesitant negative. She’d moved herself to get out of the hole, but that had been both dangerous and difficult. She felt too weak to do it for anyone but herself.
If this next part goes wrong, I told her, jump away and hide. Don’t think about us.
More hesitant fluting. Her powers should make her invisible to the delvers. She did something similar to hide a ship each time she teleported it, making it look like something far more innocent. Even if things went wrong, they should leave her alone. At least that was her hope.
As we flew, I tried to listen in on the delvers again. They hadn’t noticed us yet. It really was hard for them to see far into the belt, and they’d lost track of us specifically among all the people at Surehold. But the closer we got, the more likely it would be that they saw our ship.
“The delvers are going to notice us eventually,” I explained to everyone. “Likely it will happen when Chet and I interact with the final portal on the Path of Elders. That has been a beacon to them each time before.
“Once I have learned from that last stop, we need to escape. Unfortunately, the only realistic way for us to do that is through the lightburst. We can’t wait for the portal at Surehold to be opened—that will be too dangerous. The delvers have tried harder and harder to kill me the longer I’ve stayed in here, and once we know their secrets it’s going to get even worse.
“The way I see it, our best hope is to bolt for the lightburst the moment we’re done with the final set of memories. We have to somehow evade what the delvers throw at us, get into the lightburst, and survive there long enough for me and Doomslug to hyperjump us back to Detritus.”
“I concur with Miss Nightshade,” Chet said. “This is the most reasonable course—and our most likely chance of escape.”
“What will happen to you in the somewhere?” I asked him. “You won’t…turn into a giant, planet-size ball of hurt and tantrums again, will you?”
“No,” he said. “But I don’t exactly know what will happen. We will see. It’s possible that I will continue hiding in the nowhere after you leave.”
Was he…lying? I poked at him cytonically. I felt…fear? No sense that he was betraying us or anything. Merely worry.
Well, I supposed I could understand that. “Chet,” I said. “Do you have any idea what kinds of things the delvers will throw at us, once they realize we’re trying to escape through the lightburst?”
“They’ll send obstacles,” he replied.
“What kind of obstacles do you mean, strange human who is also an unknowable entity?” Hesho asked. “Will this be like when they hyperjumped an entire city in here to interfere with our duel?”
“Yes, possibly,” Chet said.
“Could they make bodies for themselves?” I asked. “Like you have done?”
“Also possible,” Chet said. “Well, I mean, yes—if I can do it, they can. But that is dangerous. Coming this fully into the belt required me to acknowledge time and individuality. Each moment they experience something slightly different from one another, it changes them—and they hate that.”
“Let’s assume they do make bodies,” I said. “Since they’re going to be desperate. At the very least, let’s assume they’re going to create spheres of rock to try to destroy me, like happens at a delver maze.”
“That could be a problem,” he said. “Outside, in the somewhere, you fought just one. Here you could face overwhelming odds—there are thousands of delvers in the lightburst. And you can’t kill them with destructors. They can just dissolve the body and pop a new one out.”
When he talked about delvers, his Chet-ness slipped. He sounded tired instead, the personality fading from his voice. I felt bad for forcing him to acknowledge his dual nature, but I needed answers. Because the more I thought, the more worried I became. I really hoped the last portal had answers. Perhaps if we were lucky it would be unlocked, and would let us escape that direction.
But what if we had to make the assault? How would I face an all-out attack by thousands of delvers? The thought was so daunting, I found my brain going in circles. So I backed up and took stock, like I’d always been taught. Do an inventory. What did we have?
One ship, top of the line, but still a little less cool than M-Bot’s had once been.
One drone that could hold M-Bot in a pinch.
One human female, slightly rumpled and creased from a long time in storage. Expert pilot, trash at basically everything else.
One samurai fox, twenty-five centimeters tall. Former emperor of an enormous nation, now without memories. Fits well into an oversized cup holder meant for a zero-g combat canteen.
One rogue AI. Fully self-aware and possessing emotions. Chronically talkative. Capable of flying a ship now. Just poorly. Potentially able to do things delvers could, if we could figure out what that was or how it all worked.
One interdimensional intelligent slug capable of teleportation and transforming her shape. Currently hiding in my pocket and trying very hard to be inanimate.
And last of all, one abyssal entity from a completely foreign dimension. Only recently made an individual, inhabiting the body of a long-dead explorer.
I sure hoped I survived, because Gran-Gran really needed to add this story to her repertoire. Children in the future were going to insist my adventures were too outlandish—and therefore I wasn’t an actual historical person, but one that was obviously made up, like Gilgamesh or David Bowie.
“Our enemy is afraid of me,” I said to the others. “We have to use that. Could we find a way to play off their fears?”
“An interesting idea,” Chet said. “If you can make them experience true passage of time, they’ll hate that. But making anyone experience the passage of time is difficult in here.”
“Oh!” M-Bot said. “We could make them feel emotions. Wouldn’t they hate that too? I mean, it’s both wonderful and icky at the same time.”
“They already feel emotion,” Chet explained. “It’s common to them, to…us. The annoyance and hatred my kind feel for the sounds and experiences of the somewhere? That’s a pure emotional response right there. They hate pain, specific kinds, but not emotions in general—so long as they all feel the same ones. Again, the delvers are not a group mind. They don’t share thoughts, they merely happen to always think the exact same ones. Because they’re identical in every way.”
Except for Chet. Whom I’d changed.
“That’s useful information,” I said. “But they are afraid of me specifically.”
Chet leaned forward. “For good reason. When you first spoke to me, Spensa, and showed me who you were…I saw the other beings on Starsight as people. You unlocked me. Now you are helping me remember my past. They’re afraid you will be able to do the same to them.”
“You came to the belt to hide,” Hesho said. “Would they destroy you if they could?”
“I think they would,” Chet said. “It’s terrifying.”
We flew for a time in silence, passing what appeared to be an arctic fragment below. That was odd, but maybe temperature was like food in here. Maybe it wasn’t something my body recognized anymore.
“What if,” Hesho said, “we somehow presented the other delvers with a sequence of choices that made them select random options? Would that frighten them? Because by making random choices, some are bound to choose differently from the others.”
“But they aren’t,” Chet said. “Given the same circumstances, they’d all make the same choice.”
“I do not believe that is how randomness works,” Hesho said.
“Because randomness doesn’t exist,” Chet said.
“Wait,” I said. “Of course it does. M-Bot, give me a random number.”
“All right,” he said. “Between what and what? I’ll reference the seed from my electron-cloud-measuring—”
“No,” I said. “Don’t reference anything. Just pick a number.”
“Spensa, I’m literally incapable of that,” M-Bot replied. “Don’t you know anything about robots? In fact, it’s undetermined if even a human being can choose a truly random number.”
“Eight hundred thirty-seven,” I said.
“Ah,” Chet replied. “But that might have been completely inevitable, based on your brain chemistry and current stimuli.”
“Yay determinism!” M-Bot said.
I frowned. This…was not a direction I liked having the conversation go.
“Regardless,” Chet said, “this is how delvers work. Hesho, your suggestion was a good one given the facts you had—but it won’t be viable. I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” Hesho said, “but we don’t need them to truly make different decisions from one another, do we? We merely need to present them with the illusion of it happening. Or present them with the worrying possibility that it will. Correct?”
“I…” Chet frowned. “You’re right. In the belt, they can’t experience the future. So if you can make them afraid of what might happen, that’s as good for our purposes—distracting them long enough for you three to slip through and escape.”
A fluting sounded from my pocket.
“I’m sorry,” Chet said. “You four.”
Another fluting.
“I…don’t understand,” he said.
“She is insisting you keep her secret,” I said. “And not tell other delvers that her kind hide in here as inanimate objects. At least I think that’s what she’s saying. She’s not always clear.”
Annoyed fluting.
“Doomslug,” I said, “in the somewhere, you’d merely repeat back at me what I said. That’s not clear communication.”
Satisfied fluting. To her it was clear, because the noises were meant to get attention—it was the mind-to-mind bond that conveyed the actual emotion.
“Hesho’s plan is worth trying,” Chet continued. “We need to think of ways to present the delvers with decisions. I suspect that you’re right, Miss Nightshade. Those monsters will be frightened enough to enter the belt—but only very close to the lightburst.”
We brainstormed a few ways that this might work—one of which prompted us to pause for a bit and strap the drone to the outside of our hull for later use—so at least we had something. After that we took a break, and I glanced out the canopy to inspect the fragments. We’d passed out of Superiority territory into No Man’s Land. Here, the fragments were much closer together—bunched up, with short gaps between them.
“Spensa?” M-Bot said softly, his voice piping from the dash.
“Mmmm?” I asked.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” he told me. “That I should figure out why you are acting against your emotions. They wanted you to stay with the Broadsiders, but you left anyway.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“I am still confused. But I have decided that I know we have to continue. I think…I think we don’t actually have a choice. Not if we want to save our friends in the somewhere. So we have to fly on, prepared or not. That…Spensa, that makes me scared.”
“Yeah. Me too, bud.”
“So we must act against our emotions,” he said. “Spensa, why do we have them? I’m sorry to keep asking this, but I can’t grasp it. What’s the purpose of emotions if so often we have to deliberately act counter to what they’re telling us?”
I’d never thought about that. It seemed that I did act against my emotions more often than I acted in accordance with them. So what was the point?
“You’re asking the wrong person,” I finally said. “Hesho might be able to say something profound.”
“I don’t want something profound,” M-Bot said. “I want your answer.”
Ouch. Well, I figured maybe that could be a compliment?
“Without emotions to react against,” I said, “some better things couldn’t exist.”
“Like?”
“Like courage, M-Bot. Fear creates courage.”
He thought on that for a while. “I think…maybe I understand that. You need opposing emotions in order to feel good ones?”
“Yes,” I said. “And beyond that, I think emotions help us understand our own decisions. You just told me that you know we have to leave, even though you don’t feel it.”
“So…” he said. “So your emotions can’t be your only guide. They exist to help you make some decisions, but not all decisions. In this case, our minds overruled them. Because we realized that if we didn’t continue the quest, many people would be in danger. Emotions are like a secondary processing unit that measures different kinds of input to offer a contrasting opinion and other options for proceeding.”
“That’s right,” I said. “See? You’re putting all of this together.”
“With effort. It seems so instinctive to all of you.”
“That’s because we’ve had emotions since we were born,” I said. “You’re comparing my experience of almost twenty years to your experience of having had emotions—freely, without counter-programming—for a few weeks. That considered, you’re doing extremely well.”
He pondered that. And as he did, the dash chirped.
Destination approaching soon.
We had nearly reached the final stop on Chet’s Path of Elders. The resting place of memories that belonged to the delvers themselves.
