CHAPTER II - "The Delete Button"

A Chapter by P_F_COGAN

A FUTURISTIC SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY.

The Delete Button

     Good morning, and welcome. I'm not used to visitors. I'm impressed
you were able to find me. I guess it's obvious why. You certainly planned
your trip well; isn't this the closest Uranus gets to Earth during the year?

     You are the first people to visit, though, since the Builders left
us--left me--here. I hope the air and the heat are acceptable. I've kept
them circulating through the station, even though I don't need them. This
station used to be a rest stop of sorts, before the Builders converted it for
all of--for me. It was a small post for ships to stop and refuel if necessary,
with a small clinic, a place to eat, and of course the atmosphere controls.

     The Builders stripped a lot of it before they transferred my files into its
main computers and left me as a kind of a caretaker. We and the Builders
worked up some environments to live in, virtual versions of places on Earth
and other planets that the Builders recreated from their own records. I don't
have a physical body, but I can visit places no human has ever seen.

     So you would like to hear about the Tunnel? You came all the way out
here for that? It must be quite a documentary you are preparing.   Yes, I
worked on the Tunnel; I was among the first humans the Builders hired
to help with it. Before I died, of course.

     You can see the Tunnel from here, you know. It's visible for a few
hours at a time when the station is at the right point in orbit. It looks
like a long glowing line, with the light shifting all along the spectrum.

     The Tunnel. It started out with a bang. Not a large bang in the big
scheme of things--at the time I think they said something like four or
five Hiroshima explosions--but large enough to catch the attention of
some earth-bound astronomers. A flash of light, white, fast, and bright,
just past the orbit of Uranus.   You've probably seen the pictures and
reenactments hundreds of times.

     What? Did I ever consent to being brought back?

     I don't remember. After the accident the Builders rejuvenated me
as a virtual copy of myself. I wasn't really in a position to comment.
I heard that happened a bit on Earth, People leaving instructions that
they be uploaded, before it was banned.

The laws negated those agreements, though, didn't they? I've
heard about the deletions, of course.

     So after that first explosion came a second a few hours later,
hundreds of kilometers from the first. Another brilliant flash briefly
lit the solar system.

     Then, after the explosions people found the probes. The first
pictures were grainy and dark; more patterns of lighter and darker
squares than a real image. Still, you could see their general shape:
two large mirrored tear drops, laying sideways to the solar system.
They hung in space, denying a long list of physical laws, each with
brilliant sparkling light at the tapered end of the tear drop. The light
was intense, bright but no larger than your fist.

     My death? Well, the Builders brought me back because they
felt responsible, I suppose. They rejuvenated everyone they could
after the explosion.   What? Yes, they knew that certain governments
on Earth had made creating a virtual persona illegal. They knew.
We were a long way from Earth at the time.

     Shall I continue? Those mysterious tear drops sat in space,
defying every natural force in our Solar System. They were obviously
mechanical. Obviously artificial. This silent, irrefutable evidence of
alien life sunk into the general populace, and it had a predictable
effect. People panicked.

     What I find really funny about it now, looking back, was how
pointless it all was. The demonstrations, the new religions, all of that.
We were like ants when someone kicks their hill over: we scurried
about, with a lot of energy but little direction or result.

     Ants. I haven't seen an ant in decades. Cockroaches, sure.
Cockroaches manage to show up everywhere. But no ants.

     Eventually we calmed down.   Like those same ants, we returned
more or less to our old routines. The big tear drops, of course,
continued to hang there, their tips sparkling in the dark of space.

     Then the Builders blew the holes open. Right at the tips of those
floating tear drops they tore open space-time, rending two unnoticed
wormholes into gates that would become big enough--literally--to
drive freighters through.

     And the Builders did come through. Have you seen the pictures?
Incredible. They came through with ships, materials, tools. We called
them all Builders, as if the aliens were all the same, but they weren't.
Some had tentacles, some had arms and legs; some had fur, a few had
translucent skin. Humans started to look kind of bland after working
there awhile. The Builders had teams at each end, and they started
working toward each other to connect the two wormholes and create an
intergalactic short cut.

     When the Builders sent the messages and ships offering jobs, I
signed up immediately. I couldn't understand why everyone didn't apply.
Why would you not want the chance to help build something like that?
The wages were unimportant to me, as unbelievable as they were.
I just wanted to be a part of this alien construction project, to see
for myself what the Builders could do.

     You gentlemen look tired. Not bored, I hope. You've had a long
trip, and I probably have not told you anything that you've not read in
history books. We can continue tomorrow, if you like.

     Feel free to explore the station, such as it is.   It has some
accommodations and a basic medical station, plus some stores of food,
if you need them. Nothing is specifically tailored to human bodies, but
the Builders told me it is all serviceable.

#

     Good morning. I hope you slept well. Would you like to hear about
the accident today?

     I died. Funny, it doesn't seem that important anymore. The
accident happened over 20 years ago, and now it just seems like one of
the many events in one's life, like graduation, or marriage. Maybe having
children. I'm sure the anti-upload groups, plus whoever is enforcing the
laws on Earth, must disagree, but I feel like the same person I was
before I died.

     The accident happened while we were completing one of the hoops.
They weren't powered up, of course; drones would bring sections over
one by one, and we bound them together. It seemed a lot like welding,
but I'm sure the physics of it were much more complicated.

     The hoops are amazing. They are kilometers around, and when
energized they separate the interior of the tunnel from our solar system.
Their field is the Tunnel's rainbow glow. "Exotic matter" doesn't start
to describe this stuff. It was black, mostly; rough to touch with many-colored
specks embedded in it. They hauled the sections through the holes at
either end, made them at factories on the other side, and we put them
together. We were far enough along in construction that I could see the
last hoop from the other side, from the crew that was working its way toward
us. The two ends of the construction were close to each other by then, maybe
50 kilometers apart. I was on a crew of twelve with three humans. We had
worked there long enough that we didn't need the translators, as long as
everyone was using standard Builder. I couldn't speak very well--no human
really can--but I understood enough.

     The hoop was about three-quarters done. We were spread out along the
seam, joining two sections, when it split. They say they don't know how,
just one of those workplace accidents that happen, but it killed us all almost
instantly. I understand that the rejuvenation process normally deletes the
last set of memories, just out of consideration. They couldn't do that in my
case, though. I remember a flash of rainbow light, and burning. My entire
body burned. I can still smell it. Then, I woke up somewhere else. In a
hospital room. From their understanding of our world, or from whatever
memories they accessed, the Builders' medics constructed a version of a
clean hospital room for me. The Builders recovered enough to reconstruct
an uploaded version of me , but not everyone in the group was so lucky.

     What? Yes, I do consider myself fortunate. I certainly do not regret
what the Builders did. It was an accident, and they helped me recover.
Yes, I realize that the Builders rejuvenated me after uploading persona
was banned. Those were laws on Earth. Normally the Builders were
sensitive to jurisdiction questions, but not the prohibitions against uploading.
Those rules and the arguments seemed to amuse them more than anything.
For the Builders, uploading persona was part of their routine care for people.

     Well, it seems better than the alternative, doesn't it? I understand
some people on Earth don't agree; we've heard about the purges of
personalities following the anti-upload laws. It was starting even before
I left Earth, with the debates around the technology and the claims that
uploads were immoral and frightening. Since then, it sounds as if some
governments have been quite aggressive in enforcing the laws. And
some zealous religious groups, too. I guess you can see why we--I--have
set up residence so far out here.

     What about you gentlemen? You're from the United States, right?
Do you think I am a technological aberration, something without a soul
that deserves only destruction? You may consider me biased, but to
me it all seems like reactionary ignorance and irrational fear.

     I've seen other suns, did I mention that? At the opening ceremony,
when they powered up the hoops, the Builders let some of us join the crowd.
The openings had been relatively small before, only large enough to let the
constructions ships and small barges through. Then, with simultaneous
flashes at either end the openings expanded, and the hoops flared into
activity one by one. Our solar system outside of the rings disappeared
and another system became visible through the tunnel opening. A double
star system, one orange and one white. It was overwhelming.

     I'm sorry? No, I don't remember whether I consented to have the
Builders rejuvenate me. Didn't you ask me that already?

     Others? Like me, some were involved in accidents and the Builders
could revive them. One of the other people on my team, in fact. Some
people found their way here from Earth, too, as they fled the deletions in
the States and elsewhere. We all heard stories about the zealous hackers,
running down the uploads and purging memories. Even had a few attempts
here, remotely, but I have to admit they were pretty clumsy.

     No, I don't think I'll tell you whether anyone else is still here. I think
we have talked enough today. Maybe you should return to your ship now.

#

    Good morning. What are you doing out there? I really would prefer
that you don't attach anything to the station. Those look like explosives.

     I was afraid of this. You said you were here to learn about the Tunnel
and the Builders, but now it looks more like you're here to destroy me.
I have stories and information about the Tunnel, things countless people
would find interesting, I'm sure, and you want to wipe it out, in the name
of a law and a philosophy you have brought with you from a long way away.

     You're planning to kill me. I know it doesn't seem that way to you;
in your mind you're only shutting down an illegal program. I think,
I remember, I feel. You don't care, do you?

     Please stop. I am happy here. We are happy here. Yes, there are
others. I didn't say so before, to be cautious. We are not harming anyone.
We stay out of your way, we do not threaten or disturb anyone.
I appreciate the fear that we create. We just want to remain here.
Please stop. I need to protect my home and my friends. You're not
giving me a choice here.

#

   Good morning. What are you doing out there? I really would
prefer that you don't attach anything to the station. Those look like
explosives.

     So you are not here to learn about the Tunnel. You are here to
destroy me. I'm afraid that I will not let that happen. In fact, it won't
happen. Not now. You don't remember, but you already tried this.
I had to stop you. I'm sorry. I killed your friends yesterday. Quickly,
and I hope with little pain, but you really left me no choice.

     Yes, I'm sure it's hard for you to believe. I told you yesterday that
the Builders left some equipment here; they left enough for us to recreate
people in case of accidents. The virtual environments we can create
are pretty convincing, too.

     You asked whether I had considered deleting myself, if I saw myself as
an abomination. Now I have to ask you the same question, and to give you a
choice. I'm afraid I can't let you return to Earth--your very existence there
is illegal, after all--but you are welcome to stay here with us.

     Yes, we are a sizable community, and we would welcome you. Or, I can
delete you, in accordance with the laws you traveled so far to enforce.
Take your time deciding. There's no hurry.