Debatable Space

Harry

This is not my idea of battle. I’m strapped to a chair, my furred limbs in restraints, wires leading into my brain. In the world outside, warships are on their way to destroy and explode me. But I, meanwhile, will be in cyberspace, inhabiting a robot body, fighting on a world which is not my own, for a people who are not my own, in a cause which is not my own.

I signed up for this, apparently.

Curiously, I feel a surge of curiosity. What will it be like, I wonder, not to be me?

Not to be Loper?

To be, so very nearly, a proper human being?

Lena

As I prepare for battle, I relax by mulling over the principles of the Quantum Beacons and Heimdall. The mathematics is formidably hard, and to be honest, I have forgotten whatever I once knew. But the basic principle is:

(Are you getting this?) Of course.

The basic principle is: Matter cannot travel faster than the speed of light. Einstein proved it, and no one since has found a way around it. This constitutes an absolute limit on human progress. We cannot ever travel the other galaxies and stars, let alone traverse the Universe, or master the myriad worlds of creation. It takes too long to get there.

But, without wishing to brag, as the creator of Heimdall, or co-creator, or major inspirer of, or considerable influence on the development of – well anyway! regardless of what my actual role was; in the construction of Heimdall, we found a way to solve the conundrum. The twin-track colonisation of space. And it was a masterly solution. You see, we… You’ve explained all this.

Hush, Now, let me tell the story chronologically. After the first robot landfall on Hope, the other colony ships began to reach their destinations. And each colony was equipped with infinite energy resources thanks to the energy pumps; and remained in constant instant contact with Earth, thanks to Heimdall. The manipulation of quantum states means, as I have indeed explained before, but I’m recapping now for the benefit of the slower-witted among you; this manipulation allows for the instantaneous transmission of information. So in effect, we have a Universe in which distances are vast and onerous to travel; but in which email and phone communication are instant and effortless.

And thus, and so, the other planets were colonised by the colony ships. After Hope, there was Endurance, Enterprise, Beauty, Shiva, Mecca, Mayflower, New Earth, and a myriad other planets, since each new colony routinely built and launched its own new colony ships.

And in order to experience and help colonise these alien planets, a human based in the Earth system has to merely sign up for a tour of duty. The human’s body is placed in a flotation tank, and electrodes placed in the brain and on the skin and genitals. And, on the alien planet, a Doppelganger Robot is built with the ability to experience the full gamut of sensory data – sight, touch, hearing, pain. It thus becomes possible for a human being based on Earth to “live” on an alien planet by switching a single switch and inhabiting the DR body.

The question is, though: why? Why give up your life on Earth, with all its luxuries and pleasures, in order to endure life on a hellish alien planet?

Because it’s addictive. I was totally hooked on it. My years of mainlining Hope were the best and most enjoyable of my entire life. And so many other humans shared my excitement and addiction. A huge and tax-free salary for doing part-time DR work also helps to motivate the Earth populace to do their duty…

And thanks to my son the Cheo, it is these DRs who are the dominant citizens and, indeed, masters of all the occupied planets. And so, ultimately, it is Earth Humans who have all the power, all the control. So instead of a Universe of freely acting nation planets, as I had always envisaged, we have a host of slave planets, run by DRs, on behalf of Earth Humans.

I played my role in creating this corrupt network of space tyranny. I take no credit for that. For once, I ask for no credit. I merely, each morning, in those cruel minutes before my optimism of spirit kicks in, suffer and squirm in shame and bitter regret. For the way things are in this Universe of ours is wrong.

“Strap up, Lena.”

I realise we are about to launch our invasion. I look around at my army – six of us strapped into armchairs, with Kalen at the control console.

“Let’s kick some robot ass,” says Flanagan, with an attempt at rousingness.

“It was my turn to say that,” Jamie tells him bitterly.

Flanagan sighs, wearily.

“Let’s go,” he says.