Tweet
almostz Data Angles Almostz at ureach.com
AI - Gaians, Morgan, Pirates
Irgy University irgy_ at hotmail.com
Hobbes Consciousness jcrocombe at aardvark.net.au
AI - Hive
Planet - Huge
Conditions - Unknown
Rules - All Victory Conditions, No Unity Survey, Flexible Starting Locations
"The primary colony pods are off, and safe." intoned the flat, emotionless voice from the speakers. The bridge erupted in shouts and applause. Nobody had thought they would make it. When the Unity started coming awake upon entering the Alpha Centauri system, it had been discovered that somebody had substituted cheap memory crystals in place of Six Sigma hardware. They said the bridge had looked like a Christmas tree. If Provost Steven hadn't requested being thawed early to continue his “special project”, the ship probably would have tumbled out of control with the first braking maneuver.
All looked at the reason for their success, the troika who had saved the mission. Provost Steven, dedicated researcher and maybe just a little bit obsessed. The rumors claimed that he had been forced to continue the research on the Unity, as it would have put him in prison on earth, volunteer subject not withstanding. The Vice Provost, Fedor Petrov, who had done the surgery on the “volunteer” was standing there also. People called him “Mengele Jr.” behind his back.
Then there was “the volunteer”, who had taken the name of Hobbes for some obscure reason. He’d chosen that new name when he underwent “The Procedure” as it was called now, some 20th century aficionados had called it being Borged. They looked at the data entry interfaces embedded in his head, and some of them shuddered thinking about how deeply they went into his brain. But without him to take over for the ship’s mainframes, they never could have entered orbit safely.
Finally there was Almostz, the genius programmer who had stayed on board with his team, now jokingly called the Data Angels after someone had commented that they were like Angels from heaven sent to save the ship. Almostz and his group had made it possible for Hobbes to interface with the few remaining systems that functioned. They’d taken a huge hit in the processing power; Hobbes had been trying to do the job of three mainframes! So much equipment had failed that they hadn’t been able to do a proper survey. They still got the main colony pods off safely, and now they were going down to join them, leaving the Unity in a rapidly decaying orbit.
“Everybody go to their assigned pods. We will have an orderly evacuation, there is no emergency,” continued Hobbes unemotional announcement. People streamed from the bridge to the six emergency escape pods. Provost Steven commented to Hobbes, “You’ve done well, son. We’ll see you on the planet and work on perfecting the subroutines in your hardware.” He patted Hobbes on the back, and strode confidently off the bridge.
“Well, at least I won’t have to listen to that jerk for a few hours,” muttered Almostz. “I don’t know which of them is worse, Provost Steven with his attitude or Nwabudike Morgan. I still think it was his industrial combine that sold us those bad data chips. I spent weeks trying to prove it. But too much data was corrupted or missing.” Almostz finished disconnecting Hobbes. He noticed that for the first time ever that Hobbes had a Mona-Lisa smile. “Hey, Ice-man, what’s so funny that you can crack a grin.”
“Our friend the Provost is in for a surprise. Do you remember those personnel files I asked you for a month ago, when we were choosing rosters for the landing pods so the loss of one wouldn’t cripple the colony?”
“Well, yes,” replied Almostz, puzzled. Each person had a backup of their personnel records on their wrist comps, and the Morgan-Haliburton combine couldn’t be bothered with low-margin items like that. They had all worked, of course.
“It appears that there will be seven colonies on the surface. I ran an analysis, and given the personalities involved a single colony was sure to fail, degenerating into violence, revolution, and counter-revolution. Aki Zeta-1, my fellow Cyborg, ran an independent analysis and agreed.” Hobbes finished as they strode down the hallway to the evacuation pods. Almostz looked startled, remembering how Aki Zeta-1 had been put in charge of all the colonization computing work while Hobbes flew the ship.
Almostz stopped, grabbing Hobbes arm. “Okay, what did you do! You wouldn’t be telling me this if the situation was hopeless. After three months of spending almost every waking hour in your company, I know you better than that.”
“We ran a series of personality analysis followed up by a systems analysis of each possible Leader-type indivdual and what was necessary for success. We reprogrammed the autopilots on the heavy lifters and the emergency pods. There will be seven colonies, each with the optimal chance of success. I’m not completely sure in all cases who the leader will end up being, we had to compromise between leadership types and critical numbers. We couldn’t subdivide the colony too much. For example we put Miriam Godwinson and Sheng-Ji Yang on one lifter.” Almostz shuddered, both of them were fanatics that sent chills up his spine. “We place a 98% chance one of them will be dead within 24 hours of landing on Planet.” Almotz stared at him, startled at, well, the inhuman detachment.
“They don’t have to kill each other, they still have the choice. But they will, and whichever survives will eventually be a threat to the rest of humanity. Aki Zeta-1 and I couldn’t execute them, though. That would turn us into them. We left them their free will, and how they choose to exercise it is their choice.”
“And what does your ‘analysis’ say about me and the Provost?” Almotz replied with a sarcastic edge to his voice.
“You both have outstanding leadership potential. We tried as hard as we could not to let our dislike of the Provost color our judgment too much,” Hobbes finished, and Almostz saw that damnable little smile again. “But we did save one special present for the Provost, Aki Zeta-1 and I are still human.”
“Hmm?” Almostz replied, totally overwhelmed by these revelations.
Hobbes looked at him, and Almostz saw Hobbes break out in a grin. “No, but we took the truly recalcitrant, the disagreeable, and placed as many of them as we safely could, survial-wise, in his two escape pods. Somebody had to get them, and I suspect that they and the Provost were meant for each other. Those of us who saved the ship will be slightly disadvantaged compared to those who took the heavy lifters, but we also received some of the best personnel. The Provost got most of the lead scientists, you have the cream of our programmers, and my pods have some from both groups who want to see an alternative way of life. The Provost will not be ‘reprogramming’ me.”
Almostz glanced at his chronometer. “We’ll have to run so we don’t delay the launch. I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you,” he yelled as he took the branching hallway to what were now his people.
Hobbes looked at his departing compatriot. The programmers had always treated him and Aki Zeta-1 as humans, unlike the scientists who looked at them as guinea pigs. They hadn’t called Aki Zeta-1 the Bride of Frankenstein like much of the remaining crew. He yelled back, “May you live in interesting times,” as he sprinted down the corridor to his new life.
AI - Gaians, Morgan, Pirates
Irgy University irgy_ at hotmail.com
Hobbes Consciousness jcrocombe at aardvark.net.au
AI - Hive
Planet - Huge
Conditions - Unknown
Rules - All Victory Conditions, No Unity Survey, Flexible Starting Locations
"The primary colony pods are off, and safe." intoned the flat, emotionless voice from the speakers. The bridge erupted in shouts and applause. Nobody had thought they would make it. When the Unity started coming awake upon entering the Alpha Centauri system, it had been discovered that somebody had substituted cheap memory crystals in place of Six Sigma hardware. They said the bridge had looked like a Christmas tree. If Provost Steven hadn't requested being thawed early to continue his “special project”, the ship probably would have tumbled out of control with the first braking maneuver.
All looked at the reason for their success, the troika who had saved the mission. Provost Steven, dedicated researcher and maybe just a little bit obsessed. The rumors claimed that he had been forced to continue the research on the Unity, as it would have put him in prison on earth, volunteer subject not withstanding. The Vice Provost, Fedor Petrov, who had done the surgery on the “volunteer” was standing there also. People called him “Mengele Jr.” behind his back.
Then there was “the volunteer”, who had taken the name of Hobbes for some obscure reason. He’d chosen that new name when he underwent “The Procedure” as it was called now, some 20th century aficionados had called it being Borged. They looked at the data entry interfaces embedded in his head, and some of them shuddered thinking about how deeply they went into his brain. But without him to take over for the ship’s mainframes, they never could have entered orbit safely.
Finally there was Almostz, the genius programmer who had stayed on board with his team, now jokingly called the Data Angels after someone had commented that they were like Angels from heaven sent to save the ship. Almostz and his group had made it possible for Hobbes to interface with the few remaining systems that functioned. They’d taken a huge hit in the processing power; Hobbes had been trying to do the job of three mainframes! So much equipment had failed that they hadn’t been able to do a proper survey. They still got the main colony pods off safely, and now they were going down to join them, leaving the Unity in a rapidly decaying orbit.
“Everybody go to their assigned pods. We will have an orderly evacuation, there is no emergency,” continued Hobbes unemotional announcement. People streamed from the bridge to the six emergency escape pods. Provost Steven commented to Hobbes, “You’ve done well, son. We’ll see you on the planet and work on perfecting the subroutines in your hardware.” He patted Hobbes on the back, and strode confidently off the bridge.
“Well, at least I won’t have to listen to that jerk for a few hours,” muttered Almostz. “I don’t know which of them is worse, Provost Steven with his attitude or Nwabudike Morgan. I still think it was his industrial combine that sold us those bad data chips. I spent weeks trying to prove it. But too much data was corrupted or missing.” Almostz finished disconnecting Hobbes. He noticed that for the first time ever that Hobbes had a Mona-Lisa smile. “Hey, Ice-man, what’s so funny that you can crack a grin.”
“Our friend the Provost is in for a surprise. Do you remember those personnel files I asked you for a month ago, when we were choosing rosters for the landing pods so the loss of one wouldn’t cripple the colony?”
“Well, yes,” replied Almostz, puzzled. Each person had a backup of their personnel records on their wrist comps, and the Morgan-Haliburton combine couldn’t be bothered with low-margin items like that. They had all worked, of course.
“It appears that there will be seven colonies on the surface. I ran an analysis, and given the personalities involved a single colony was sure to fail, degenerating into violence, revolution, and counter-revolution. Aki Zeta-1, my fellow Cyborg, ran an independent analysis and agreed.” Hobbes finished as they strode down the hallway to the evacuation pods. Almostz looked startled, remembering how Aki Zeta-1 had been put in charge of all the colonization computing work while Hobbes flew the ship.
Almostz stopped, grabbing Hobbes arm. “Okay, what did you do! You wouldn’t be telling me this if the situation was hopeless. After three months of spending almost every waking hour in your company, I know you better than that.”
“We ran a series of personality analysis followed up by a systems analysis of each possible Leader-type indivdual and what was necessary for success. We reprogrammed the autopilots on the heavy lifters and the emergency pods. There will be seven colonies, each with the optimal chance of success. I’m not completely sure in all cases who the leader will end up being, we had to compromise between leadership types and critical numbers. We couldn’t subdivide the colony too much. For example we put Miriam Godwinson and Sheng-Ji Yang on one lifter.” Almostz shuddered, both of them were fanatics that sent chills up his spine. “We place a 98% chance one of them will be dead within 24 hours of landing on Planet.” Almotz stared at him, startled at, well, the inhuman detachment.
“They don’t have to kill each other, they still have the choice. But they will, and whichever survives will eventually be a threat to the rest of humanity. Aki Zeta-1 and I couldn’t execute them, though. That would turn us into them. We left them their free will, and how they choose to exercise it is their choice.”
“And what does your ‘analysis’ say about me and the Provost?” Almotz replied with a sarcastic edge to his voice.
“You both have outstanding leadership potential. We tried as hard as we could not to let our dislike of the Provost color our judgment too much,” Hobbes finished, and Almostz saw that damnable little smile again. “But we did save one special present for the Provost, Aki Zeta-1 and I are still human.”
“Hmm?” Almostz replied, totally overwhelmed by these revelations.
Hobbes looked at him, and Almostz saw Hobbes break out in a grin. “No, but we took the truly recalcitrant, the disagreeable, and placed as many of them as we safely could, survial-wise, in his two escape pods. Somebody had to get them, and I suspect that they and the Provost were meant for each other. Those of us who saved the ship will be slightly disadvantaged compared to those who took the heavy lifters, but we also received some of the best personnel. The Provost got most of the lead scientists, you have the cream of our programmers, and my pods have some from both groups who want to see an alternative way of life. The Provost will not be ‘reprogramming’ me.”
Almostz glanced at his chronometer. “We’ll have to run so we don’t delay the launch. I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you,” he yelled as he took the branching hallway to what were now his people.
Hobbes looked at his departing compatriot. The programmers had always treated him and Aki Zeta-1 as humans, unlike the scientists who looked at them as guinea pigs. They hadn’t called Aki Zeta-1 the Bride of Frankenstein like much of the remaining crew. He yelled back, “May you live in interesting times,” as he sprinted down the corridor to his new life.
Comment