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When they’re not running through challenges or going to funerals, the
candidates live in a single house together. They’ve not actually competed in
anything else since the platform event, but more are theoretically coming.
Until then, Tamerlane Pryce believes that the house itself is just as much
part of the contest as any formal game.
“Back even before my time, reality shows were blowing up,” Tamerlane
explains. He’s standing in front of everyone in the communal living area
like a college lecturer. “They weren’t documentaries that maintained
boundaries to adhere to cinéma vérité rules. They were money-making
machines, designed to get viewers hooked, and advertisers drooling. The
primary purpose was to put a bunch of people together in stressful
scenarios, and generate friction. Some shows didn’t even
have challenges. People were just there, letting their conflicting
personalities produce the entertainment.
“These kinds of shows died out—not because broadcast networks decided to be
more ethical, or because viewers wanted more intellectual programming—but
because tensions gradually died out naturally. It’s a cliché for a reason.
Transitioning to a post-scarcity economy didn’t only end poverty overnight.
It took away a lot of perfectly healthy societal conflict too. It’s okay to
argue with your neighbors about whether your trash bins should be left on
corners of the driveway, or on the curb, partially in the grass. But when
everyone moved to megastructure arcologies, those problems disappeared,
because now everyone has the same trash chute in the same place.”
He’s right about that. People mostly don’t have little personal problems
anymore because everything they genuinely need is provided. Things only get
hairy when your ambitions call for something greater, like, say, a ship, or
the superintendency of a whole planet. So why is it that they’re being
filmed when they’re just trying to live together in this big—but still,
paradoxically, a little too small—house? Or even are they? The
candidates can’t say for sure, because the whole point of smart dust is that
it’s hard to spot. They have been stripped of more than their advanced
substrates. They don’t have access to the kind of technology they would need
to be certain of anything. They need to find the exact text of whatever
contract the coordinators think they signed.
“Are you on your way to reaching a point, or are we trapped in a circle?”
one of the Eyrenlanders snarks at Pryce.
Pryce smiles like he appreciates the question. “The point is, I think the
smart dust question is just another challenge, which is why we’ve not been
pulled out for something else in the last few days. I don’t know what they
had planned for the funeral. I’m guessing no one predicted that little
Pickpocket would crash the party, but we have to assume that everything is a
test. We can’t move on unless we solve this.”
“Well, you’re the genius, aren’t you?” a different Eyrenlander asks. Jande
is refusing to learn any of their names. If any of the non-Eyrenlanders gets
the job, it could be okay, but he doesn’t trust any of the five—or rather,
the four remaining. “I mean, that’s why you were in prison, because even
before people could download knowledge into their brains, you became the
father of consciousness transference, right?”
Tamerlane nods. “I admit, this is a blind spot for me. I was hyperfocused on
that technology, and essentially ignored all other fields, such as covert
surveillance. So if there’s a way to detect smart dust without a literal
smart dust detector, I don’t know it.”
Dare Finnian has been slouched on the couch as he’s listening to this,
drinking a beverage known as a soda. Van and the other producers must
really be getting their cues from 21st century broadcasting because soft
drinks haven’t been popular since pretty much back then. He sighs, downs the
rest of his drink, and crushes the can against his forehead before standing
up. I’m gonna get another. Anyone want one?” He pivots on his hips back and
forth. “Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Cool.” He walks off.
“Like nanotechnology, smart dust has to be powered by something.” It’s the
blonde girl who tried to leave, and had to complete the first task on one
leg. Her name is Priscilla Kool, but everyone calls her Kool. “You can’t
make a fusion drive small enough. The containment components alone would be
at least the size of a fingernail. Something in the house has to be
providing wireless power. All we have to do is shut that off.”
They can hear Dare bangaranging in the kitchen.
“It’s probably just powered by the house,” Ersence reasons. “Even if they
gave us access to the main power source and any auxiliary sources,
we need that power. I need light to shave. I’m
not going to stop shaving. There are some transhumanistic
enhancements that even my people don’t shun. That was one of them. I
hate body hair.”
More banging around from the kitchen.
“Can we help you find something?” Jande shouts. “Did you forget which one
was the refrigerator? It’s the big silver one.”
Dare starts coming back into the room. “No, I hope what I’m looking for
isn’t in the fridge. It would be a stupid place to put it. Though, looking
at you lot...” He runs back out to the kitchen, then runs back fairly
quickly. “No, not in there.”
“Perhaps if you told us what it was?” Jande offers.
Dare starts to open drawers and cabinets in this room now, which are mostly
empty, though some contain boardgames or extra blankets. “Did I ever tell
you why I became a hermit? Why did I leave society to go live in an asteroid
all by myself?”
“You did it for the same reason everyone else does, I’m guessing,” Ersence
says. “The individual no longer requires help from the tribe to survive. If
you have the common core elements and at least one nanobot, you can make
anything.”
Dare nods as he’s continuing to look. “There you are.” He takes out a giant
flashlight, and starts to mindlessly hit his palm with it as he talks. “It’s
not that I didn’t require people; it’s that other people are a
danger. They are uncontrollable variables, which threaten each and every one
of us. I ran away from people because I suffer from extreme paranoia, and
the drugs didn’t work. They just made me paranoid that I wasn’t being
paranoid enough to protect myself. I never felt safer than when I was
alone.”
“So why come back?” Kool presses. “Why sign up for this competition?”
Dare smiles. “That’s a story for another time. Right now, we have to find
that smart dust. That’s where this thing comes in.”
“The problem is that it’s small, not dark,” an Eyrenlander argues. “It’s not
hiding behind corners, or in the carpet. It’s floating all around us...if it
exists at all.”
“The darkness, my good man...is precisely what we need! I believe in a thing
called love. Madam Tridali, would you please do me the honor?”
Ersence realizes where he’s indicating. She reaches up and switches off the
light.
“Regular dust is dull. Smart dust...sparkles.” Dare sweeps the area with the
torch.
Okay, there is the smart dust. Now. What are they going to do about it?
