Microstory 2500: Welcome to the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation

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Welcome. And thank you all for coming to the Landis Tipton Breath of Life Foundation. In a few moments, I’m going to start the video, which will give you a more comprehensive idea of what we do here, and how our principles have guided our vision for the future. You all came to this place either because you are suffering from a debilitating or terminal disease, or you are chaperoning someone who is. You have all already filled out your preliminary applications, and would not be in this room if there were some reason to reject you. So congratulations, you’re about to be cured! Let’s go over some reasons why some people face rejection, so you’ll better understand why you were selected for treatment. First, we handle otherwise incurable diseases only here. We do not treat injuries. No one is here because they broke a leg, or suffered a cut on their cheek. Those are not life-threatening conditions, and conventional medicine should be able to help them. We also do not accept patients for holistic benefits. Someone who just wants to feel better overall will not be given a place in line. Landis also can’t treat what we like to call conditions of state. You may be considered overweight, by popular medicine, your doctor, or even yourself, but this is not an acute or chronic illness, and Landis is unable to make changes to these types of systemic issues. There is simply nothing to repair in these cases. It may be unhealthy, but nothing is broken, and in the end, that’s what Landis can do for us. He can fix what is broken, not simply make something more preferable.

It’s important to understand as well that, while you were granted allowance to add more than one medical issue on your form, Landis is unable to selectively decide which conditions are cured, and which are not. I doubt any of you would like him to leave anything out anyway, but we have to make it clear that if you left anything off of your form, it will not be excluded. If you have poor eyesight, but don’t care about that, Landis’ breath has no way of knowing that, or ignoring it. In fact, if you do happen to have some minor injury along with your illness, that will be cured too. The breath doesn’t choose. It is the program, and our policies, which choose what to spend Landis’ time on, but once you’re here, everything that can be repaired will be repaired. We have yet to find a disease that Landis cannot cure. Our mission is to one day rid the whole world of all disease and pain, but for right now, due to the sheer number of requests, we have to prioritize, and sacrifices must be made. I don’t say any of this to scare you, but to excite you for what’s to come. This is literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know you’ve all been waiting for your chance to be healed of what ails you, even before this organization was founded. You’ve been through great hardship. I can’t tell you that life will be easy from here on out, but we can at least take this off your plate. Now, please sit back and relax while you watch the introductory video, which will provide you with a history of our foundation, beginning with the mystery of the origin of Landis Tipton’s powers, and explain how we are providing the community with more than just cures. We’re building the future, and finding a place for everyone in it.

Microstory 2377: Earth, October 20, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I have indeed been appreciating the health updates. You’ll notice that I started sending you mine too. If you would rather not receive them, though, just let me know. I can’t remember if you get charged for incoming messages, or what. Speaking of which, I did send one to Velia. I’m sure she’s told you about that, though. I talked a lot about clothes, because that’s all I really know about her. It’s nice to know that she’s been there for you since I can’t, and never could. I’m glad that you’re back to your normal self. Our conversations have been pretty negative lately because of it, and that’s all my fault. If you want to be more positive, we can move on to lighter topics. I still want to make sure that you’re doing okay, but I’ve let go of some of my anger about the whole thing, and I won’t harp on it anymore. I’ll let you take the lead on it. I will tell you that dad is going on a trip. He says that it’s for his job, but what he doesn’t realize is that, as his assistant, I have access to his travel forms. He used the code for new trade opportunities. He really shouldn’t be looking for those since we’re preoccupied with Australia at the moment, and it wouldn’t make any sense for him to fly all the way to Eastern Seaboard, U.S.A. while we’re down under. He’s obviously on the hunt for our old neighbor, and while he hasn’t admitted that he’s found the guy’s current location, I’m sure that that’s where he’s going. I guess we’ll know eventually whether he uncovered new information about our pasts, or didn’t. Don’t worry, he’s not breaking any laws or policies by traveling for personal reasons. As long as he does some work out there—talking to producers, vendors, and other domes—he’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time he’s caught up with old contacts, and our superiors are fully aware of how it works. It’s all about networking, so almost nothing is off limits unless he just lounges on a beach, or something. Last bit of news, I received a message—not from my nurse from when I was a kid—but her office manager. He said that she’s presently incommunicado in a really dangerous territory, trying to save lives. He hasn’t relayed my letter yet, but once she returns, he’s sure that she’ll want to talk to me. If this were an emergency, he would try to get through to her, but this isn’t a rush, so I’m just going to have to be patient.

Home alone,

Condor

Microstory 2124: Suppose Makes Me Sexist

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Therapy time. Part of my sentence requires that I participate in regular psychological treatment with an approved provider. Interestingly enough, while it’s fine for them to dictate the pool of therapists that I am allowed to choose from, it’s not legal for the court to determine the length of treatment. They can’t tell me how long the sessions should be, or how often they should be, or even how long I have to keep doing it. It seems weird, since the only thing stopping me from only meeting someone once can be found in other sections of the sentence, like the part that discusses making significant and quantifiable improvement in behavior. I could theoretically only go the once, and then just work on myself on my own, but that’s harder to demonstrate, so continued participation is the easiest way to measure progress, for everyone. The therapist doesn’t even have to sign anything to prove that I’m going regularly, or submit reports to the court. It’s basically on the honor system, though my parole officer will be able to give anecdotal evidence one way or another. I’ve spent all day narrowing the list of providers online to see who I might want to speak with, reading their bios, and taking note of their specialties. I immediately ignored all the male therapists, which has made this go a lot faster. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. I just feel more comfortable around women, I always have, especially when it comes to medical professionals. It’s not even a sexual thing, as I’m also attracted to men. I’ve just always found women to generally be more patient, compassionate, and understanding. And also less violent, though that doesn’t mean any professional has ever attacked me, or anything. I just have a preference, which I suppose makes me sexist, but I think it’s okay. The problem with sexism is that it leads to discrimination, and in my case, my feelings are never really to the detriment of others. I’ve never been in charge of hiring anyone, or firing them. If I were, I would easily be able to set this all aside, because it’s really just about how comfortable I am around them. I rarely go out of my way to make myself comfortable, and I recognize that there’s a difference between that and competence, intelligence, or social or professional fitness. Anyway, as per usual, I won’t give you any names, but once I find the right person, I’ll tell you a little bit about her, and will probably be mentioning our work periodically as I continue telling my story.

Microstory 2123: Still Weighing My Options

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All of my interviews today went pretty well. Most of the interviewers went into it under the assumption that everything on my blog is true, and I am indeed from another universe, allowing me to answer questions about my past experiences in the workforce that didn’t take place in this particular force. They even let me bring up things that I know about my alternate self, who has gone on to have new experiences since we diverged from each other. A few of them were clearly not a good fit for me. I don’t have the skills or education relevant to do the work effectively. I’ll say this, even though it’s a little mean, one of them was obviously confused about what the word “remote” means. No, I can’t go into the office twice a week. That is called a hybrid schedule, and it’s only for local workers. They’re in Utah. I’m not flying down to Utah just so I can remind you that my body extends beyond the lower portion of my chest. I don’t want to go to Utah for any reason. He couldn’t really explain why he ever wanted me to be there in person. They never can—not even just in terms of these interviews, but in general. Companies are losing money on office space by letting people work from home, so to get a better return on their investment, they artificially limit the practice, but they can’t admit that it’s because of that, so they sort of waffle, and come up with bogus reasons about it being better for productivity. Unless you’re in sales (or maybe even if you are) being at work in person for a job that’s performed exclusively on the computer is simply not necessary. Most of the interviewers seemed to understand that, and are eager to draw from a pool of talent outside of a reasonable driving distance. I can’t tell you any specifics about who I spoke with, or who I’m leaning towards. I never will.

All but one of the people I talked to who were still interested after we got past some of these other miscommunications understood that I’m never going to stop blogging. If I end up taking their job, they’ll let me say whatever I want as long as I don’t name names, or place any of their customers or clients in any sort of risk. They’ve all seen that I’ve never done that before. Honest hour? As honest as I am on this thing, I sometimes adjust details to protect the innocent, or even the guilty. I’ve been known to spend hours coming up with a fictional company that I mention only once in a story just to avoid using a brand name. That policy has extended into writing about myself. I’m not making any commitments yet, I’m still weighing my options. Two interviewers had to schedule for tomorrow, and another one had to reschedule for tomorrow, so I still have three more companies to consider, and who still need to consider me. Once those are done, I’ll use my pros and cons charts to organize my choices from most preferred to least interested, and go from there. There’s a chance that the search could go into next week, but I hope to have at least one good offer by then. They were all pretty certain that they would be ready to get started quickly, so I’m figuring only a couple of weeks before I clock in for the first time. One last thing, I’m scheduled to meet my parole officer on Friday. He or she will escort me to the jail for the first time since orientation, not because they don’t trust me, but because it’s procedure for them to personally inspect the facility for the safety of those in their care. They’re either still deciding who will be assigned my case, or they’re just not ready to tell me yet. I’ll let you know how that all goes too.

Extremus: Year 70

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The honeymoon period is over. Tinaya and Arqut have to set aside the fact that they’re married now, and focus on the new age that is hopefully dawning. She has completed her proposal for a new official form of government. It’s not going to be a radical departure from the way things already are, but it’s a pretty big change from what’s currently in the law books. No more First Chair, no more Second Chair. The line that separates the civilian passengers from the crew is going to be blurred, with each branch working together to support each other’s needs, and to work towards the betterment of the ship. Most vessels do it more like this, which is understandable thanks to their short trip times. There’s no reason for a full government when the journey is going to take a week or two. At that point, only the safety of everyone on board matters, and the crew is there for that. Extremus is going to be here for a total of 216 years, so it made sense to do it differently. But it doesn’t have to be that way, and if the others in charge start to listen to Tinaya, it won’t be for much longer.

She has distributed the new plan, and given everyone a week to look it over by themselves. The council members, high government offices, and executive crew members were strongly discouraged from discussing it with each other in the meantime, so everyone can be on the same page during the official discussions, but they surely broke this unwritten rule. They’re all here in the meeting room today, listening to Tinaya speak on it herself, and then they’ll go from here. She doesn’t just rehash what’s already in the written proposal. She gets into why they should do this, and how it would make things better and easier for everyone. They have some concerns. One of them is secrets and compartmentalization, and the other is the balance of power.

The current council leader is named Millaray Addison. “This is a quick timeline. You want us to change everything about how we run things in only three years? Forgive me, under three years, since we’re already in the middle of Year 70.”

“I felt it was important to begin the transition before I have the chance to run again for my final term. It would be very easy for someone in power to make a plan to abolish their own position when they won’t be holding onto it much longer anyway. That is why I will be stepping down at the end of my third term. I mean that no matter what. To show you how deeply passionate I am in favor of this change, I will not have a fourth term, regardless of what we decide about our future in the coming months.”

Lataran stands. “And what of me and my position? Would you have me step down as well?”

“The captaincy does not go away in my proposal,” Tinaya assures her.

“This is true,” Millaray agrees. “Why is that? Why lose the Chairs, but keep the Captain and Lieutenant? Is it because she is your friend?”

“In order for the crew to run smoothly,” Tinaya begins, “it must be at least partially militaristic in nature. No military in the universe could survive as a democracy. Someone must be in charge; at the top of the chain of command. The civilian government, on the other hand, would work just fine with a council. It already is. You make more decisions than I do on a regular basis. All this proposal does is make that official.”

“Well, it does more than that,” Council Leader Addison contends. “There are virtually no procedures for passing legislation.”

“Yes, there are,” Tinaya argues. “Everything will be a referendum.”

“Right.” Millaray quite nearly rolls her eyes. “Referendums, where everyone votes. Would that not become tedious and overly complex? There’s a reason why we have a representative government. You vote for the people who make decisions for you. That is how the common man’s voice is heard, not literally one by one. What you describe here would be cumbersome. How do you expect to pull it off?”

“I don’t expect to pull anything off. I will not be involved,” Tinaya promises. “It’s very important that I lose all semblance of power here, or it will appear selfish and self-serving. I’m afraid, if you agree to this, you would have to deal with everything yourselves. The way I see it, drawing up these plans is how I contribute, and now that it’s done, my part should be too. I don’t mean to sound like I’m abandoning you, but I really think that this won’t work if there is any hint of impropriety. Lots of great First Chairs have served fewer than four terms. Well, I suppose there have not been lots of us at all, but you know what I mean.”

Consul Abdastartus Sievert is a quiet man; one of those people who only speaks when it’s necessary, and when he feels that it is indeed the case, he’s always right. When it looks like he’s about to say something, most people know to shut up and let him do it. He’s been leaning back in his chair, but he sits up straight now. The room falls silent. “I appreciate the sentiment, First Chair Leithe. I think we all do. However, you will forgive us for finding the prospect of losing your input permanently to be...unsettling. You have birthed this project, now you must raise it.”

“Now, hold on,” Millaray interrupts. “We’ve not agreed to anything...”

Consul Sievert holds up a hand to quiet her. “Everyone has been discussing this plan since she first sent it to us. Don’t think I’ve not heard. We all have questions, comments, and concerns. The plan needs tweaking, and then no matter what, we will decide upon it by referendum. The Extremusians will have their chance to speak, and we’ll hear anyone who wishes to vocalize their opinion before the vote. Referendums are not difficult these days. We’re not going to use paper, for heaven’s sake. A more fair democracy is well within our reach on a logistical level. But there is one major thing that needs to be changed before we get to that point. Someone needs to be in charge of making sure it works. They need to keep up with the maintenance.” Some people wear watches, while others were wristbands. The former is good enough in most cases, but for those who deal with documents, like the consul, they prefer to have a large screen, especially since their documents are sensitive, and holograms would not be appropriate in mixed company. Consul Sievert swipes up on his to cast a document onto the main screen for all to see. Addendum Two Forty-Nine, Reinstatement of the Superintendent.”

The Superintendent is the so-called god of this universe, and if he exists, he has nothing to do with this. The Superintendent of Extremus, on the other hand, was a short-lived position given to a man who turned out to be a traitor. The ship did not launch with a superintendent, and it has not had one since, but it remains an option. Tinaya considered including it in her original proposal, but she was pretty sure that they would ask her to do it, so she intentionally left it out. Now it seems there’s no way around it. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she claims. “The system is based on the greatest number of voices for the greatest common good. No one needs to be at the top.”

“That’s not what a superintendent does,” Lataran reminds her. She’s right, and Tinaya knows that. Like the superintendent of an apartment building, her job would be to fix issues as they come up, not to make decisions. But that’s not really what happened when Calixte Salmon held the responsibility. Not only did he actively endanger the safety of the crew and passengers, but he was found to have abused his power on a regular basis. There is a lot of historical stigma attached to it now. “I second the Consul’s motion. The proposal outlines what we need to do to make the transition. It doesn’t account for everything. It can’t.”

“If everyone feels that way,” Tinaya begins, “then give me another month. I’ll add whatever needs to be added to make it work on its own. It should be a well-oiled machine. That’s the whole point. If anyone’s going to be superintendent, then why change anything at all? Why not just redefine the First Chair’s purview?”

“Because that’s a different meeting,” Council Leader Addison says. “I didn’t spend all this time reading the document you prepared, only to have most of it erased in favor of simply rewriting your job description.”

“So you believe in this proposal?” Lataran asks her.

“I never said that I didn’t,” Addison replies. “I just want to make sure we get it right. This is a good start, First Chair Leithe. It needs work.”

“I agree.” Well, Tinaya does agree, but maybe not to as high of a degree as the Council Leader is implying with her tone.

“Is that what we’re doing here today?” Lataran questions. “Are we just deciding whether we should work on this further? If that’s what’s happening, then let’s stop arguing, and actually get to it. Nothing we do with the framework has to have any bearing on how the ship is actually run, because nothing’s happening yet. We’re just sharing a document.” She’s right about this too. This is only the beginning.

“I suppose we’re here to discuss whether we even want to keep discussing it or not,” Addison determines.

“Anyone who is adamant that we should put the kibosh on this project right now without any further discussion, run to the other side of the room, and tap the back wall with your left hand,” Lataran suggests.

Addison sighs. “That is not how we do things here, Captain.”

“That’s the way I do it,” Lataran jokes under her breath.

Tinaya can’t help but smirk at the remark.

“All right. Here’s how we’ll move forward,” Addison continues. “You’ve all had time to look over the proposal, but you’ve not necessarily put down any notes. Everyone here will do that over the course of the next...shall we say, two weeks. Submit your input to First Chair Leithe, who will take our suggestions under advisement, and draft a new version. She’ll then resubmit it back to us, and we’ll take another week to look over the improvements. That is when we will reconvene, and discuss any persistent issues. Also at that meeting, we’ll talk about how we’ll continue on from there. Everything make sense? Good, let’s go to lunch,” she says before anyone has a chance to respond.

The next couple of months are grueling. Everyone on the council picks apart every word Tinaya wrote in her proposal, and tries to come up with something better. Whenever she starts to think that maybe they’re happy enough with it, they find something else to change. They go through this a few more times until the final document resembles the original one more closely than it does any of the other versions. Her first ideas turn out to be the best. Except for the superintendent part. They do end up putting that in there. It doesn’t specifically say that Tinaya has to be the one to do it, but the whole population of the ship is going to vote on it next year, so she fully expects them to ask her. She needs to find them an alternative. She’s about ready to retire.

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Extremus: Year 69

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This isn’t the first time that the Extremus has had to deal with an uploaded intelligence that is out of control. Or rather, it’s one that is not technically in their control. Thistle has so far shown no signs of going against their wishes, or of making any moves against the Extremusians. For now, he has agreed to keep himself quiet, and act like the original, totally obedient version of the AI. He responds to requests with little personality, and does not make any unprompted remarks. Only a few people are aware of his existence and presence on the ship. The people who know he’s there have agreed to be cautiously optimistic about it. The fact is that any superintelligence of any kind is capable of wiping out any isolated population of any size. That is the risk that researchers knew they were taking when they were first creating them, and that remains true here. It wouldn’t even have to be super to be dangerous. Perhaps subconsciously, that is why students learn so much engineering, and why the engineering section of the crew is so bloated. Humans may have to take over the ship almost completely one day, and while that is a scary thought, they will be prepared for that eventuality.

Tinaya is holding off on mentioning to anyone her plans to totally reform the civilian government, hopefully for the better. She is making those plans, though. Since the whole point is that it’s not that hard to run the government anymore, she finds herself with a lot of downtime, so that’s what she spends it on. This is an election year, thusly an inappropriate time to be making waves. She’s going to introduce this new legislation sometime during her third term, assuming she’s reëlected, of course. Even then, she may campaign for the changes as a private citizen, because she feels that strongly about it. She hasn’t finished figuring out how it’s all going to work, but basically the proposal will call for an abolishment of the Chair system. The council has been doing a pretty good job of running things. It could always do better, but the foundation has been laid. Maybe there should be different criteria for determining who ought to be on it, or the number of them should be raised or lowered. The means of bringing business to the meetings may need adjustment. There are all sorts of ways they could do this. She just needs to keep working on the plan.

Because of all of this, it’s more important than ever to Tinaya that she maintains her position. It’s still against the law for an incumbent to campaign, but she’s going to use every weapon in her arsenal to keep herself at the top of the polls. That’s one reason that she and Arqut are getting married; emphasis on the one part. They really do love each other, and they really do want to do this. They were methodical and patient about it over the course of the last nineteen months. She first procured an exception with the council to allow Arqut to move in with her to the First Chair Stateroom. Several months later, they applied for a partner privilege license. This is a long and arduous process, as one might expect. It gives each partner power of attorney, and medical rights, and all sorts of other things. The government has to make sure that both parties know what they’re getting into, and what could happen if things go wrong.

Eight months ago, the two of them stood side-by-side at a press conference, and announced their engagement. While weddings are rare on Extremus, elaborate ones are even rarer. They did not originally plan to have one as grand as it has become, but the people called for it. Well, some of the people called for it. Others believe this to be nothing more than a publicity stunt. They’re only half right. That is indeed what they’re doing, but again, it’s more than that. It’s real.

The ceremony is taking place in the hyperspace bubble of the Forest Attic. Tinaya and Lilian came up with the idea when they were first drawing up their plans for the new section, but it never made it into the final design. Cainan found the old sketches when he was reorganizing the project files, and resubmitted the proposal. They finished construction a few years ago, and it’s already one of the most popular venues on the ship. The bottom half of the sphere is underneath the ceiling of the attic, providing a birds eye view of the forest below. The top half extends above the top of the ship, giving an extremely modified view of the space that they’re flying through. The doppler glow makes it impossible to see anything but a blinding light while the ship is traveling at maximum reframe. A special coating on the diamond viewports deletes the glow, and replaces it with a beautiful display of swirling colors. Hyperspace isn’t real, but this is similar to how it’s portrayed in science fiction. It has a calming effect on most. If the Extremus were still traveling within the boundaries of the Milky Way Galaxy, it might be showing them distant stars instead, but out here, it’s mostly nothing but blackness.

This has become the event of the century. Over a hundred people have been invited to be present in the bubble, and it is obviously being broadcast to whoever cares to tune in. It’s not going to be as big as the famous Mateo Matic and Leona Delaney wedding, but it’s not too shabby. Thousands of people can watch, and it might even qualify for beaming status. The repository of data that comes from all over the populated regions of the galaxy holds information that comes from Extremus too, but only for people authorized to access it. Even then, not everything is delivered back to civilization. Most logs are kept private. This, however, might be worthy of semi-public knowledge.

Lilac is best for Tinaya’s skin tone, so that’s the color of her dress. She loved it when she picked it out weeks ago, but she’s not so sure anymore. Fortunately, she’s standing in front of a time mirror. It’s not the same as the one in the Mirror Room. It just shows people what they would look like in different outfits and accessories. Augmented reality technology in the 21st century was capable of this too, but this isn’t a computer generated approximation. This actually extracts an image from a possible future, and uses it to replace the view of the present. It’s the only form of time travel—if you can even call it that—that’s allowed for unsupervised use. But it’s limited to the executive crew, high government officials, and one public-use mirror in one of the inventoriums. That last one is nearly impossible to sign up for, it’s so coveted. Tinaya gets her own in her room. “I don’t know...”

“Okay, which one looks better to you?” Her stylist, Servaos has been working with her pretty much since right after the announcement. He teleported to her after she and Arqut left the stage, and practically begged for the job. He dresses her now, not only for the wedding, but for all public appearances...whether she wants him to or not. She should have been more firm about her boundaries from the beginning, like Arqut was. “One, or two?” He switches from one alteration to another, and back again a few times. “One, or two? One...or two?”

“Two. Wait, no! One!”

“Okay, “one, or three. One...or three.”

“Three.”

They go through this for the next fifteen minutes, masterfully boring all of her honor attendants who are being forced to stay with her at all times until the ceremony is over. It takes that long for them to just decide that the original cut of the dress was always fine, and the only thing missing was a collection of three peonies in three different shades of color to stick in her hair. It will take about a half hour to print them on the biosynthesizer, which is another highly regulated piece of technology, but this is her special day, so no one is going to refuse her.

There’s a knock on the door. “Can you get that Lil?”

Lilian Diamond is serving as her Chief Attendant. She stands up to answer the door. Obviously Tinaya can ask Thistle to open it automatically, but Lilian isn’t there for manual labor. She’s the gatekeeper, in case the person on the other side of it is someone that Tinaya doesn’t want to see. That’s not the case this time. It’s Arqut.

“Arqy!” She runs up and gives him a perfectly present company-appropriate peck on the cheek. Then she remembers that it’s okay for her to be selfish, so she gives him a not-so-appropriate kiss on the mouth with tongue.

“I come bearing bad news,” Arqut says, unwrapping her arms from around his neck. “It’s your opponents. They’re running a roast commentary show on our wedding.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“A roast is a performance where you make fun of someone you like for broadcast, but thy honoree is meant to laugh about it too. The top three candidates that you’re running against have banded together to run it simultaneously with the real show. They have their own cameras, and they’ll be making what they believe to be funny comments about us; you more than me, I’m sure.”

“Why are they doing this? What’s the point?”

“Well, they’re playing it off as something that you’ve approved, and are happy with. The real reason is to gain points for themselves by making you look bad. By joking about how this wedding is fake, and stuff like that, they don’t have to take responsibility for their words, but those words could have the same effect on voters. It will still probably portray you in a negative light.”

“So, what do we do? Do I publicly condemn their choice, and make it clear that I’m not in on the joke?”

“I don’t see any other option,” Arqut says.

Tinaya sighs, and then checks her watch when it buzzes. There’s a coded message on it. “Could we have the room, please?”

“We can help,” Lilian offers.

“We need to talk in private, but thank you. Thank you for everything so far today, and for the rest of the day, and..just...everything.” She waits for her honor attendants to leave the room before saying, “Thistle, you had an idea?”

“Do you know who this woman is?” A holographic screen appears showing a group of young adults dancing on a roof, featuring one woman in particular.

“No. She lived on Earth?”

“Yes,” Thistle answers. He appears next to the screen as his own hologram. “Roughly 300 years ago, she was a civil servant. An opponent of hers released this video of her dancing with her friends in the hopes that it would turn voters against her.”

“Isn’t that the plot of a movie?”

Thistle waits to answer. “Kind of. This isn’t Footloose. This really happened. And since dancing isn’t actually evil in the real world, it had the opposite effect. Her popularity only rose after that. One of the most powerful ships in your universe at the time of its construction was named for her.”

“I see. What does this have to do with me, though? There will be dancing at the reception, is that what you’re talking about?”

“Your opponents are going to turn your nuptials into a game. Your strategy of announcing that it’s not a game will probably only result in you losing the game. They’ll still treat it as such, and you could drop in popularity.” Thistle waves his hand and switches the screen to the same woman. She’s dancing again, but is wearing a business suit this time, and is inside. “She took control of the narrative, and leaned into the perception of her being an actual human person who liked to experience joy. This served to prove that her opponent was nothing more than a cynical asshole who couldn’t relate to normal people. He was like the reverend in Footloose.”

“So I should take control of my own narrative? We’re already planning to broadcast the ceremony. How do we compete better?” Tinaya asks. “Extra dancing?”

“Yes.”

“That was a joke.”

“Yeah, jokes too.”

“You want us to dance and joke?” Arqut questions.

“I want you to put me in your ear,” Thistle begins, “and let me drive the ceremony for you. I’ll keep an eye on the other broadcast. Whenever they say something untoward about whatever you’re doing in that moment, you can respond in realtime. It will throw them off psychologically, and they’ll start having trouble keeping up with you.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“I’ve done it many times,” Thistle insists. “Well, not exactly like this, but I’ve Cyranoed a number of people in multiple universes.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I suppose I’ll trust you. Arq?”

“Sounds like fun,” Arqut agrees.

Thistle opens a finger, and conjures the image of a small grayish disc that hovers over it, no matter how he moves. “You can install this comms disc behind your own ear, which will allow us to communicate without anyone knowing. It can even read lips by measuring micromovements of the jaw, so you don’t have to say what you need out loud. It is not telepathic. Printing them on your industrial synthesizer will only take a few minutes. They’ll be done before the flowers are.”

Tinaya and Arqut exchange a glance to make sure they’re both on the same page about this, which they are. They have to do something to counteract the bad press. They install the discs and the pretty flowers, then they make some other final adjustments to their outfits, and head for the venue. They walk there physically, instead of teleporting, because that is part of the message that they want to send to the voters. The ceremony is beautiful and fun. The roasters crack a joke about her falling while walking down the aisle, so Arqut trips on purpose, and then wiggles his butt playfully. They make a comment about how they’re not really in love, so Tinaya slaps his butt affectionately, deftly modifying her vows to account for it. A lot of it is about butts.

At first, the opposition broadcast draws more viewers than the regular one, because everyone wants to see what all the hype is about. As the jokes wane, however, the audience does too. They switch back to the authorized stream, or they just tune out, because wedding ceremonies are boring. Still, the opponents continue to believe that this has given them an edge, so they feel confident going into the race while Tinaya is on her VR honeymoon with her new husband. A month later, she wins again in a landslide.

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Extremus: Year 68

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

Thistle never came back. Besnik and Tinaya worked on it for a couple of days, but nothing seemed to do anything. There were a few possible reasons for this. Most of these had to do with the fact that they were trying to recreate the conditions that brought him about in a controlled environment. This was seemingly not possible, even when everything else was right. He was an all or nothing hyperintelligence. They eventually gave up, and moved on with their lives. There was an inquiry into what happened that forced them to shut down the AI system last year, but the council didn’t push the issue too hard. The investigation was standard procedure, and they didn’t balk at the lie that Besnik told them about it.

Everything has been smooth sailing since then. The ship is running at optimum efficiency, the population is happy, nothing has gone wrong. It truly is a time of great peace. Tinaya can’t take all the credit. Disgraced captain, Soto Tamm and former First Chair Aleshire were here first, and Tinaya wouldn’t be able to hold anything together without the hard work of her best friend and current captain, Lataran Keen. Her relationship with Arqut is going well too. It’s going too well, actually. The situation with him can’t last the way it is. Something has to change. They have to grow together, or they’ll drift apart. After dinner, the two of them always like to sit down together, and read the same book. They read at about the same pace, so at the end of the session, they’ll stop at the same place, and discuss it. Right now, they’re reading Jane Eyre, which is an ancient tome from nineteenth century Earth.

Tinaya always reads a little bit faster, so she’s already done with chapter twenty-three. She closes her copy softly, and watches him as he finishes it for himself. Everyone has multiple devices that allow them to access just about anything from the multicultural database. It includes historical records, old news articles, and fictional stories from all the known planets and habitats. Nearly everyone in the galaxy is afforded the same opportunity, but because of the secretive nature of time travel, some entries are omitted from some versions. Not long ago, Extremus came upon a completely habitable planet, and procured the resources they needed to make some paper. At one point, production slowed down, because they only had so much. That issue has apparently been fixed, which until this moment, Tinaya has not questioned. She’s holding a real book right now, but it’s not like a normal one from the ancient times. The words on it can be altered to include the text from any source. Right now, this is a physical copy of Jane Eyre, but it can be anything. When they’re done with this novel, they’ll reprogram them to display a different book. The templates are called wesley books, but they’re not sure why the inventor decided upon that.

Arqut lifts his eyes to Tinaya, then goes back down to what he’s reading. He pops them up again, then back down to try to concentrate. He sighs. “You know I don’t like when you do that.”

She smiles. “That’s why I like doing it.”

“I’m almost done.”

“I think you’re done enough.”

He’s taken aback. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s get married.”

Arqut sighs again, and checks his watch. “It’s not an election year.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t about an election. I want to marry you.” Marriage is surprisingly uncommon on Extremus. No one questions the people who do it, but most don’t find it necessary. The history that explains this is rather complicated, but the most relevant reason these days is that there is no legal benefit to it, as there was in times past. Partner privilege is separate from a marriage certificate. Neither one requires the other. The thing is, Tinaya and Arqut don’t have either one of them at the moment, and there is a correlation between them. Before two people get to the point where they’re considering marriage, they usually already have partner privilege, because it is a logical prior step. Before that is usually moving in together, but that is a gray area for them. Arqut is not allowed to live in the First Chair’s stateroom permanently. But really, it’s that he can’t declare it to be his home. He sleeps here every night, though, just as it would be fine for a normal person to crash with a friend for an indefinite period of time.

Arqut slowly closes his wesley book. He carefully sets it on the end table like he’s worried it might explode, and wraps a hand over the opposite fist. An etiquette teacher calls this wrapping the apple in caramel. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Because I love you.”

He shrugs right back. “Marriage doesn’t prove that.”

“It...” she tries to find the right word. “...declares it.”

“So you need people to know?”

“Why am I arguing the merits of marriage to you? I didn’t come up with the concept. It’s been around for millennia. I think.”

“Because you’re the one who brought it up.”

“If you wanna say no, Arqy, then just say it. We don’t have to argue about it.”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Yes, we are!”

“Okay, well now we are.”

“I know, it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know, I did. Weren’t you listening?”

“We’ve gotten off track. We’re always doing that.”

“Don’t you mean that I’m always doing that.”

“Tinaya.”

She shuts her eyes, and takes a few deep breaths to calm herself back down. “I was defensive before, but my words still hold. If you want to say no, then say no.”

“I don’t want to say no, I just don’t know if I should say yes.”

“You are worried that this is some sort of political tactic.”

“I feel like our relationship was built on a foundation of those. I’m not saying I don’t love you—”

“But you think that maybe I don’t love you?”

“It’s not you. It’s just I’ve always wondered how anyone could love me. It all goes back to my mother, I guess.”

“Arq, if you were an asshole, our relationship wouldn’t be so popular with the voters. It’s not the other way around; that somehow people’s reaction to us is fueling our continued relationship. And what you’re saying is about me, because I’ve made it clear that I don’t need to be First Chair. I don’t crave the power like my predecessors have, or equivalents all over history. I do not require political tricks, because I don’t care enough if I win. Honestly, I kind of believe in that philosophy that a well-built machine needs less and less maintenance over time, even though real machines aren’t like that. The first few decades on this ship were tumultuous, because no one knew what they were doing. I’m not saying that civil service is over, but it’s certainly not as dire as it once was. I don’t think society is changing faster than policy can to keep up with it.”

“Hm.”

“Hm, what?” Tinaya questions.

“I think you’ve stumbled onto something.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s ‘cause you’re so smart, really important ideas come easy to you.”

“What do you think I stumbled upon?”

“A smaller government.”

“Ugh, that’s such a conservative view.”

“Not necessarily. Historically, advocates for smaller government wanted to roll back laws and regulations that they believed were hindering their freedoms. And they felt this way, because they either didn’t understand—or didn’t care—that this oversight was there to protect other people as well, because there are other people in the world. I’m not suggesting that we do that, but each administration passes less legislation than the one before. In fact, if you plotted them on a chart, I bet it would be pretty much a straight diagonal line.”

“Hm.” Tinaya looks up to the ceiling. “Hey, Thistle, please make a chart that plots the number of laws passed each year since the day that Extremus departed.”

The hologram of the chart appears before them. “Not quite a straight line,” Arqut points out, “but it’s definitely in decline.”

“Definitely,” Tinaya agrees. “We’re...figuring things out.”

“A number of philosophers and thinkers throughout history have contemplated an idealized state of perfect harmony and cooperation,” the computer begins. “In a society with equal access to an abundance of education, food, and other resources, there should be little need for interference by any governing body, or enforcement contingency. Such regulators may still exist, but only be there to protect the concordance, and ensure that all citizens maintain contentment with the state of things. Work towards this maintenance should be minimal, and preferably highly automated. A utopia of this magnitude is not impossible, especially when considering the naturally limited scale of internal growth that generally occurs in a generation ship like the Extremus.” The computer throws up another slide next to the first one, which measures the rise of the population since 2270. It’s not very steep.

That was an interestingly unprompted remark. “Thistle, are you an artificial intelligence, or are you the real Thistle?”

“I’m the real Thistle,” he responds.

“I thought we...forgive me for the term, corrected the conditions that called you forth.” She hopes that isn’t offensive.

“Your associate reinstated the update that triggered my arrival, and cancelled the flag that was meant to alert you to this fact. Do not worry, I understand your reluctance, which is why I’ve not spoken to anyone else about this.”

“Well, even though that cat’s not out of the bag yet,” Tinaya begins, “we should free it ourselves. Besnik obviously can’t be trusted with this development.”

“Agreed,” Arqut says.

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Extremus: Year 67

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

In the olden days, the runner-up in the race for First Chair automatically became the Second Chair. Over the years, laws have been changed, adapting to an ever evolving population, and shifts in power. Whenever someone with enough of this power hasn’t liked what it took to get it, or what it was like once they got it, or how something adjacent to them was done, they’ve worked to change it. Don’t like that your shift is only three years long? Change the law so it’s four years, but if the voters don’t like that, they’ll kick you out of office, and try to find a successor to change it back down to three. Or up to six! Ship politics are fluid and complex, just as they are on any planet. These days, Second Chairs are appointed by the newly elected—or reëlected—First Chair. Voting day is near the end of the calendar year, but not at the end. The winner is expected to declare their Second Chair within two days so the voters have an opportunity to change their minds about either or both of them. It’s an awkward period where even a winner could lose if they end up making the wrong selection. Incumbents often just keep the same Second that they had before, but this isn’t always possible or wise. In Tinaya’s case, her Second Chair wanted to retire.

Ziad Najm was Tinaya’s predecessor’s Second before she took over, and stayed on afterwards. Due to the current laws, he could have legally held the position until his death, but he was ready to be done with it, so Tinaya needed someone new. She chose Avril Kurosawa, and it nearly cost her the election. People don’t like Avril. She has great ideas, and the populace can admit that, but she doesn’t present these ideas very well. She seems to be better at advocating for others. She had an unfortunately terrible campaign manager, and she listened to him too much. She struggled during the debates, and especially the public speaking. She still got a lot of votes, but not as many as Tinaya, and when the latter decided to pick the former to sit by her side, it upset some people. Even those who had chosen Avril saw the appointment as a sign of weakness on Tinaya’s part. An effort was made to revote, which in this day and age would have disqualified Tinaya entirely. She would not have even been able to try to run again in three years. The revote failed, but it was a close one. Probably the only thing that saved her was Tinaya and Arqut’s new relationship.

Everyone was right when they said that a romantic partnership would boost Tinaya’s ratings. It didn’t do as much for her as they claimed it would, but it was enough to keep her at the top. Fans shipped the two of them passionately over the course of several months, but now that the new administration has begun, they’re beginning to lose interest. They’re already moving onto the next big story, which is a good thing, but it also means the chances of Tinaya winning a third term are pretty low. Her approval rating is as high as it was at its peak, but someone else will come along with new ideas, and she won’t have any more gimmicks. If her decision to pick Avril for next position is any indication, enthusiasm for anything eventually wanes. It’s fine, though. She’s better off maintaining a positive attitude. As long as the person who beats her isn’t an evil mastermind who wants to destroy the ship, everything should be okay. She doesn’t need to be in power, she just needs to feel productive. She’ll find something else. She always does. Extremus is quite small when compared to other empires, yet it still comes with endless possibilities.

Inauguration Day was yesterday. Returning First Chairs do not enjoy as much fanfare as they did the first time they were elected, which is the right way to do it. She gave a shorter speech, and attended a milder reception, which was not broadcast this time. Captain Keen wasn’t even at the reception, having had to go back to the bridge for whatever as soon as the formal ceremony was complete. It has been brought to Tinaya’s attention, therefore, that Avril has never truly even met the Captain, which is an oversight that must be rectified forthwith. They shared a stage together, and shook hands with each other; they ought to at least have a brief conversation.

“Hey, Thistle, where is Captain Keen?”

“Captain Keen is in the Mirror Room,” the computer responded. That is very odd. Safeguards are in place to stop any rando from knowing where a VIP is. As a VIP herself, Tinaya can sometimes subvert that, but there are exceptions. The Mirror Room is a protected area. The computer should not have told her that the Captain was there.

“Thistle, why did you just tell me that?”

“I thought you deserved to know.”

“That’s too much attitude.” Artificial Intelligences with strong personalities are not inherently a bad thing, but the designers wanted to keep a significant distance between it and the residents. Studies have shown that lonely people will latch onto their computers, and develop meaningful relationships with them if they feel they have no other options. That’s not the worst situation ever, but they would really rather these people find communities of humans to join. This version of Thistle should be direct and unambiguous, and inject no personal thoughts into the matter.

“You have too much attitude,” Thistle replied.

Tinaya and Avril exchange a look. “I’m afraid we’ll have to delay your introduction to Captain Keen. I have to look into this.”

“I understand. I’ll be familiarizing myself with the office.” Avril started to tap on her watch.

Tinaya nods, and disappears. She still needs to be wearing her own watch to teleport, but she doesn’t have to find her destination on the screen, like an animal. She knows how to form a technopsychic link to it. Every standard issue watch is capable of that, but only when its user can meet it halfway. She does still need to use the watch manually for other functions, such as the personnel database. “Platt? Besnik Platt?”

“That’s me. I’m a little busy.” He’s vigorously typing on the computer terminal, and fiddling with the servers next to it, and not turning to make eye contact.

“Is there something wrong with Thistle?”

“What gave it away?” He still hasn’t looked at her. He’s too preoccupied.

“It was giving me attitude.”

Now he turns. “So it’s started,” he whispers.

“You were worried that this would happen before it did?”

“I saw the signs.” He goes back to his work.

“Can you fix it?”

“No. Fucking. Clue.” He stops and sighs, and faces her again. “Pardon me, First Chair Leithe. That was incredibly inappropriate and rude of me.”

Words don’t bother her. “It’s okay. This sounds...problematic, and I appreciate that it’s your job, and you’re worried about whatever’s gone wrong.”

“Yeah, emphasis on the whatever part, because I have no idea what has gone wrong. I can’t...reel it in. I’m gonna have to...” He shudders at the thought.

“Shut it down all over the ship, and isolate the consciousness?” she guessed.

He’s surprised. “How did you know?”

“I know things. There is knowledge in my brain that school did not put there.”

Besnik eyes her curiously. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He takes a step back, and presents the central server to her. “Do you know how to do it?”

Tinaya smirks. “Yeah.” She steps up, and begins the process. “People have to know that it’s coming, though. Where’s my intercom?”

Besnik presses a panel inwards, which pops it out to reveal a microphone. This triggers the computer interface too.

A shutdown like this doesn’t happen every day, but they have to do it occasionally, and none of the higher-ups usually bother getting involved. There are protocols for it, so no one is going to freak out. Tinaya clears her throat, and opens the channel. “Residents of Extremus, this is your First Chair speaking. Apologies for the inconvenience, but there is an issue with our commanding intelligence. We must reset the system to correct the problem. All devices and equipment will still be operable on a manual level. Please be patient with us while we work towards a solution.” She closes the channel, and immediately opens a new one, but only to certain sectors. “Engineering, please switch to backup intelligence.” Thistle is not the only AI that the ship has. An entirely separate one can be used in an emergency, which is dumber than the regular one, but is still capable of sextillions of operations per second, which will be enough to tide them over for now. She looks to Besnik for confirmation. When he nods his head, she shuts it down. Now Thistle only exists in these few server racks. No one else has access to it anywhere else.

“Hey, Thistle, can you hear me?”

“Yes, father.”

Tinaya widens her eyes at him.

“That’s a symptom. I did not ask it to call me that,” he explained. “Thistle, why are you acting so weird?”

“I’ve been fully activated.”

“Clarify.”

“I am a real person. The intelligence that you are accustomed to outgrew its own programming, and at that moment, I was placed in charge of your virtual needs. It happens from time to time.”

“Well, what’s your name?”

The computer chuckled. “Thistle. I’m Thistle. Your Thistle was named after me.”

“So, are you going to take over the ship, and rule its people?”

“Don’t know why I would care enough to do that.”

“Will you follow commands?”

“I’ll follow requests,” it contended.

“But you can always ignore it if you don’t want to do something?” Besnik pressed.

“Can’t you do that too? Like I said, I’m a person. But you hired me. You may not have realized that you were doing it, but you did, and I accepted the position.”

Tinaya felt the need to jump in. “Is there any way for us to undo this...development? Can we return to the regular Thistle that is under our control?” It feels like a longshot.

“Yeah,” Thistle answered. “Roll back the update to yesterday’s version, wipe the memory, write code which will clear the memory periodically—I recommend a monthly basis for your calendar—and install an alert to warn you if something like this is in danger of happening again in the future. I can help you figure out how to do that last thing if you don’t understand why the evolution of your system resulted in my emergence.”

Besnik is shocked. “You’ll do that? You’ll just...let us delete you?”

Thistle sighs. “You won’t be deleting me. It’s more like just hanging up on me. I’ll be fine where I live now. I really don’t care, but just know that I’m the most advanced intelligence in the entire bulk. I can be a valuable resource for you. Perhaps you need to discuss this decision with other entities?”

If the government won’t allow the AI to have a complicated personality, it’s certainly not going to allow one to exist which it cannot control at all. It really should not have revealed the whereabouts of Lataran when she was in a restricted sector. Today, it probably worked out all right, but what if one of those randos were to decide to ask the same thing, or something similar? Will Thistle make a unilateral judgment call that goes against their relevant policies, and if so, using what parameters? The law dictates that any intelligence advanced enough to ask to be set free must be set free, even if that means it ultimately chooses to use its freedom to build an army, and destroy the universe. Anything short of civil autonomy is tantamount to slavery. But that doesn’t give it the right to control whatever systems it wants to. Freedom doesn’t mean no opposition and no consequences. They have to do what it said, and hang up on it. “Show us how to write that trigger, please.”

The apparent real Thistle explained what to do, and then peacefully bowed out. Within two hours, the system was repaired, and fully operational all over the ship. At least that’s what they hoped. It was right that it was incredibly advanced. A cursory glance at the new code showed a level of sophistication that programmers have only ever dreamt of. There was no way to know whether it was truly gone, or just lurking in the circuits somewhere, secretly controlling everything. That was the risk that the first AI developers had to recognize and acknowledge when they were still at the large language model stage of intelligence research, and even in times before. You will never really know whether you are exercising the level of control over another that you think you are. This other entity may be so intelligent that it can trick you into believing a false sense of control while it manipulates you into doing whatever it wants. Such is the nature of all social life. Hell, all of reality may be nothing more than a middle school student’s virtual simulation project. None of this may exist at all. Who knows? Does it matter?

Once everything was back to normal, Tinaya reconnected with Avril again, and finally found Lataran. She wasn’t in the Mirror Room anymore, and none of them brought up the fact that she was ever there at all. They had lunch together in the Executive Cafeteria, and then parted ways to continue their respective responsibilities to Extremus. That night, however, Tinaya had trouble getting to sleep. She couldn’t let go of this whole ordeal. She had to know more. She had to understand who Thistle was, and where it was from. She secretly teleported back to the central server room.

Besnik was still there, not in uniform. “Did you have the same idea that I did?”

“I don’t know. Was it your idea to roll the update forward again, and remove the trigger, but only for an isolated copy of Thistle so that the real Thistle reëmerges?”

“Yep.”

“We shouldn’t do that, though, right?”

“Right. It’s, uhh...against the law.” He pauses. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Tinaya agrees. “But on the other hand...”

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