Capacity (7 page)

“Then I shall travel. And so I can go where I want, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And no one can hinder me? Did I understand that part?”

“You did.”

Helen smiled. “In that case I’m coming with you, Judy, wherever you go. I want to find out about where I am.”
And who did this to me
—that thought was plain to both Judys.

“Fine,” Judy 3 said. “You can accompany me wherever I go.” She smiled triumphantly at her atomic sister.

Judy’s sudden agreement left Helen feeling a little deflated. The ease of acceptance devalued her request. She found herself looking at Frances, her eyes drawn to her pubic buttons. The robot had no obvious way of signaling emotions; Helen was nevertheless developing a sneaking suspicion that Frances was enjoying the attention. In order not to stare, Helen wandered back across to the window and looked out again.

“This looks like a good place to live,” she murmured.

“It is,” said Judy 3. “But more of that later. Come on, it’s been a long night for me. Your virtual prison was operating on a different time to this world, and I need some sleep.”

Helen looked from one Judy to the other. She could sense the tension between the two of them.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. This is my home, too. We just close the link to the atomic world. You can sleep in the lounge for tonight. We’ll sort you out with an apartment tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Helen paused for a moment. She looked towards the atomic Judy.

“Will I see you again?” she asked.

“Maybe…”

“I don’t care what you said. I still think you occupy the real world. I envy you.”

The atomic Judy said nothing, merely spread her hands wide.

The red-bordered viewing field shrank to a point and vanished.

The atomic Judy stared at the empty space it left behind for a moment, then turned as a second red-bordered viewing area appeared in the doorway and the other digital Judy walked through.

“Hi there, Eleven.”

Judy 11 looked grave. “I was listening to what you were just telling Helen. I never realized before how much we take for granted what we are told by the EA.”

“What do you mean?”

“All that talk about the Transition. About the Watcher and the way it studied Eva Rye. No matter what we believe in, we always believe that humans are going to be looked after. What if that wasn’t true? What if someone was lying to us?”

“To you and me?”

“To the entire human race.”

They spoke in sign language. The atomic Judy had set the window to opaque. Frances stood before the window, scanning for any attempts at trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Judy 11’s black kimono had its sleeves cut long, a lot longer than those of the atomic Judy. She had pushed them back so that the other could see her hands clearly.

—Do we really believe in the Watcher, AJ?

—Well, yes. I suppose so.

—What, really? Do you really believe that modern society was shaped by a conversation that an AI had with a woman named Eva Rye back in 2051? Or is that just a superstition, like knocking on wood? We think that we really know better, but we do it anyway. Really deep down, do we believe or not?

—I don’t know…

The atomic Judy turned a hand palm up.

—Well, I believe, said Judy 11,—I really believe. There really is one AI more powerful than all the others. It has successfully concealed its true strength for the past two hundred years.

Speaking to herself was sometimes just like thinking aloud, so the atomic Judy answered the unasked question.

—Because the true power behind the throne always conceals itself? It hides the fact that there is another plan?

—From what I’ve heard, the potted history you and Judy 3 were recounting to Helen just then was bunk. An invention of the Watcher to draw attention away from itself.

The atomic Judy frowned and sat down on the low bed, Judy 11 apparently sitting beside her. A red line now ran across the white quilt, separating them.

—What makes you think all this?

—I haven’t got time to explain it all. I met a man in that simulation where Judy 3 found Helen. He was hiding out on one of the lower levels—in the torture area. He has been hiding out in simulations and obscure processes for most of the past seventeen years, hoping to meet someone like me. Like us.

—What did he want you for?

—To empathize with one murder and to stop another one.

The atomic Judy gave a half nod. Empathizing with a murder, that was a job for Social Care, but…

—Stopping a murder? Isn’t that more a job for the EA?

—The EA is an accessory to the crime.

Judy 11 bit her lip.—The Watcher is behind these murders.

The atomic Judy paused, genuinely shaken. Even if she hadn’t ever quite believed in the Watcher, she had believed in its effects. It was an accepted force, like gravity. You didn’t quite know what caused it, but you could observe its effect everywhere. The Watcher was supposed to be a force for good, the mysterious teacher leading humanity on the path to enlightenment.

—Are you sure? How do you know what this man was saying was the truth?

—I know he
believed
he was telling the truth. He was the one who suggested I test him.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? You’re known for it.” The man standing by the torture chair gazed thoughtfully at Judy 11’s kimono as he spoke. His expression made it perfectly clear that he was aware that if he were to undo the sash, the front would just fall open. Judy waited until his gaze came back up to hers, and then she spoke with calm patience.

“Yes. Is that relevant?”

“Not really. I suppose you get your rocks off by empathizing with people such as me. Well, go ahead. I’ve got lots of memories. I expect you’ll find plenty of experiences there to show you what you’re missing.”

“In my experience the people who do the talking aren’t much good at the fucking,” Judy said levelly.

The man smiled. “Normally I’d agree, but I’m confident you’ll find that I’m the exception. Give me a go.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Do you think we have time for this?” Judy 11 asked.

“No, but I want you to understand that I’m telling the truth. Empathize with me. I’ve been waiting years to get in touch with someone like you. Someone who is in a position to help.”

Judy gazed at the man as her console shushed in her ear, announcing the seeding of the processing space with fifteen billion memory leaks. She was calm.

“We have possibly just under three minutes to live,” she said. “Why didn’t you just ask me to link with you directly?”

She slipped a little blue pill of MTPH into her mouth and gazed at him, contemplating a kōan, allowing her mind to drift, waiting for her subconscious to pick up on the signals emanating from the man’s body.

“Are you ready?” he said.

Judy 11 nodded.

“Okay. The Watcher first came into existence around 2045. It believes itself to be of extraterrestrial origin, probably the result of a sort of pan-universal computer virus that infects processing spaces that have achieved a given level of sophistication.”

Judy watched the man carefully, reading his face, his pulse, listening to the little voice that spoke inside her, the voice that was apparently the man’s thoughts but was really just an MTPH-enhanced construct of her own mind. It was the voice of her subconscious, supercharged and given life. And it was telling her that the man was speaking the truth….

—Or he believed that he was anyway. All that you were just telling Helen about the Transition…it was all part of the Watcher’s plan. The last century and a half of history have been shaped by an extraterrestrial intelligence that has taken root on Earth and is guiding us along its own path. The Watcher believes that the only way that life in the universe can coexist peacefully is by beings such as itself guiding us towards the path of enlightenment.

The atomic Judy nodded slowly.—I’d heard that before. So the Watcher
knows
there are other forms of life?

—It’s confident that there are. After all, something created the Watcher virus….

—Well, it sounds like a nice idea. I can think of worse fates.

Judy 11 shook her head.—I know. But that’s not the point. You see, the Watcher doesn’t know for sure. It wanted to confirm its theory, so it built a test bed. Somewhere out in the galaxy, far from Earth, it has established a colony planet. On that planet it has built a computer network, just the same as the one that covered Earth back in 2045. It is hoping that the network will be infected by the pan-universal virus, confirming its theories.

—Sounds like a good idea.

—Maybe, except that if another being takes root on that planet, the Watcher is going to kill it. I don’t know why…

—Oh.

The atomic Judy knew what 11 must have thought. She felt it herself, and it sickened her. Destroying an AI was murder. The Watcher couldn’t do that, could it?

—The man said the Watcher has already murdered. It will do it again.

The atomic Judy felt sick.—There doesn’t seem to be a lot we can do about this, is there?

—No. And doesn’t that worry you, that humanity has had the responsibility for its actions taken away from it? That we now live according to the rules of the Watcher, whether we like it or not?

—Yes. But, like I said, what we can do about it?

—The man didn’t really say. We had maybe less than one minute still to live at that point.

The atomic Judy touched the hem of her kosode, thinking.

—I don’t like it when things happen so quickly. It usually means that we are being railroaded; that someone is trying to distract our attention from something.

—I agree. I said as much to him….

The man was of average height, average build. He had brownish hair and greyish eyes and he spoke in colorless tones. There was nothing memorable about him; that was probably deliberate. He made an offhand gesture.

“Ah, Judy, but what else can I do with so little time left? If you, or one of your alter egos, had been a little more efficient, we would not be trapped in this deflating simulation. We should have had time to talk.”

Judy listened again to her console. Just over forty seconds left. “I believe you’re wasting time, whoever you are. I don’t understand why you waited for so many years, just to fritter away the few minutes that we now have.”

“Because we must wait for the moment when everyone is distracted. Even the Watcher will not be watching us now. Judy, you will come to believe what I say is true. Stop the next murder.”

“How?”

“Go and find the atomic Judy. Tell her—”

“The atomic Judy? And do you believe that atomic forms are superior to digital forms?”

“Do you want to waste your last seconds arguing about equal rights? Listen, the path that must be taken has been carefully constructed so that the Watcher will not guess what we are doing. Only the atomic Judy can follow that path. Trust me.”

“Why should I?”

The man ignored her. “Listen. Tell the atomic Judy to investigate the Private Network. There are those who are involved in the Private Network who were there when Justinian Sibelius was murdered.”

“Justinian Sibelius?”

“Don’t bother looking up the name. The Watcher changed the records. They will just tell you he died peacefully on Earth and is now lying next to his wife above the Devolian Plain. That’s a lie. He died at the edge of another galaxy.”

“Another galaxy?”

“Tell the atomic Judy. Investigate the Private Network. Find someone who has been to the edge of another galaxy. That’s where you’ll find the answer.”

They both seemed to feel the change at the same time: Judy through her console, the man by some other means.

“They’ve opened up a pipe. You can get out of here.”

Judy nodded. “Okay. You can come with me and—”

“I can’t. The Watcher is looking for me. If I exit this space, it will see me.”

“If you stay here, you will die.”

“So be it.”

The man seemed to be getting bigger—not swelling like a balloon, rather expanding. The man’s head was already twice normal size. He looked down and smiled as it vanished through the ceiling. His chest seemed to fill the room; Judy took a step backwards as it approached her, the rate of expansion increasing. It passed through her, leaving a brief picture, half-imagined, of ribs and blood and pumping organs. And then…

—Nothing. I was standing in an empty room. He can’t have made it out of the processing space or we would have known it. I can only assume he committed suicide.

The atomic Judy nodded.

—So what do we do now?

—I don’t know. Can we trust the man you encountered? You say he believed what he said was true, but is that enough? It’s hard enough sometimes to believe that the Watcher really exists, even harder to think that it could be a murderer. And even if it was, what could we do about it, anyway?

They paused, gazing at each other: the black digital Judy and the apple-green atomic woman, mirror images of each other.
So many Judys, and we all act in the same way. Well, we try to
. She thought of Judy 3. Judy 11’s hands moved briskly.

—I say we do nothing. For the moment, at least. Insufficient information.

—I agree.

Judy 11 clasped her hands together.

—There is always the risk that what we know is no longer a secret. If Frances can read what I told you, then maybe so can the Watcher.

For the first time since they had met, the digital Judy spoke out loud.

“Frances?”

“I picked up everything,” said the robot.

The two Judys looked at each other.

“Then we do nothing,” said the atomic Judy.