It was raining where the Papierkrieg re-entered the atmosphere. The ancient Watchman was in the middle of it, hauling a giant rock across the plains. They landed almost right in front of him.
"So it's time, is it?" asked the Watchman as Jubie and Freem stepped out of the spaceship. Despite it's million years, the Watchman appeared youthful, having taken on the form of a strong young male. He bore his giant boulder like Atlas holding up the original Earth.
"Greetings, Watchman," said Freem. "Manifest Destiny."
Jubie shoved him aside. "I am Jubie, and this is Quedox Freem. We came for the Reunification. Only no one here seems to have any idea what's going on. We were hoping you could shed some light on this."
The watchman sighed. "I'm a little busy right now," he said, "since I'm in the process of killing myself. I know it's my divine purpose to serve you and all, but do you think you could make it quick?"
She wasn't sure if the Watchman was kidding or not as she'd never before had the experience of meeting one. She decided to assume it was some sort of glitch. After a million years, something was bound to go wrong.
"Tell me about it, sister," he said, as if reading her mind. "You wouldn't believe how many somethings have gone wrong these past million years. Did you know your friend here thinks you're the most evil woman ever born?"
"What are you?" Freem asked angrily. "Some sort of mind-reader?"
"Oh, but he kind of likes taking orders from you."
Freem punched the Watchman in the face - a typical male response, she thought. But the Watchman's boyish appearance was literally only skin deep. She hoped he broke his hand on the Watchman's metal jaw.
"So, you want to know the entire history of this planet, do you? Yes, I know I'm reading your mind before you get a chance to put a word in edgewise. Like I said, I'm in a hurry. Well fine. Have a seat. Yes, Freem is in incredible pain, but he'd never admit it. And no, Freem, it took me two seconds to decide you were a slimy, despicable worm. Anyway, let's get started, I've got an artificial life to finish off."
The android dropped its boulder and sat down on it, crossing it's legs. Jubie suddenly felt herself compelled to sit down, in the rain, and listen to it. Freem did the same.
Quickly, the Watchman began speaking.
---------
The Genesis-324 (it said) arrived on this planet exactly one million years and two days ago. As per regulation, it contained a crew of five Watchman-class androids; ten thousand colonists, seven to twenty-four years old and evenly split between the sexes; and enough supplies for the first decade or so of habitation.
Things started fowling up from day one. For one thing, the other androids and I started going nuts just hours after we got out of the ship. Seeing things, hearing voices, that sort of thing. By the end of the first week, WM-One had buried himself with the transceiver, and I ran off to the desert to build my pyramids. I suppose another android wouldn't care to admit something like that, but since I'm going to kill myself anyway, I personally don't care.
I worked on my first pyramid for twelve years, hauling each stone by hand. I planned to entomb myself for all eternity, you understand, and I wanted to do it with some style.
I know what you're thinking - really, I do. Here we are, the Watchmen of Humanity, and we go nuts and leave the humans on their own. Well, it turns out that humans are amazingly adept at looking out for themselves when the need arises. Anyway, we wouldn't have been much help at the time.
So I finished up my pyramid without any contact with the humans or the other Watchmen. It was not till I had buried myself for several days that the slightest thought of my mission came to mind. In fact, I found that I was suddenly sane again. Enraged at my stupidity and neglect, I tore my pyramid down from the inside, then went off in search of the humans.
Unfortunately, the very next day I started hearing the terrible voices in my head again. They told me to rebuild my pyramid, and I had no choice but to comply. Another decade later, I again entombed myself and again became sane. And again I got out of there, only to have the voices return.
A four centuries and seventeen ever-more-elaborate pyramids later, I'd finally figured it out. Something in the air, you see, was transmitting people's thoughts!
The voices I'd been hearing were the thoughts of thousands and thousands of human beings.
Human beings are apparently quite used to having a multitude of voices in their heads, and didn't really notice. But androids! We have but one cognitive chip, and therefore one internal voice. You have no idea how upsetting it is to have your mind cluttered up with voices after you've enjoyed their absence.
There's been a movement among the humans ever since I created the Codellas fifty years ago to do just that: filter out the voices. They call it zenning. But I'm getting about ten thousand centuries ahead of myself.
It turned out that this planet's atmosphere is teeming with a form of what I can only call psychic bacteria. Somehow or another, they respond to brainwaves and transmit them for miles around. With all the people around, thoughts started going everywhere.
Once I modified my circuitry to accept the extrasensory load, I went off in search of the other watchmen. As I said, WM-One had buried itself with our only transceiver. Five disassembled himself and is to this day sitting at the bottom of the west ocean. WM's Two and Three had run naked around the continent for several centuries.
I followed their trails from primitive city to primitive city. It was the only the fifth century, and the humans already developed agriculture. I was so proud. Anyway, the thought transference thing had kept everyone in constant communication, subconsciously, of course, so language had pretty much stayed the same even without the five of us to help keep it that way. Humans will chatter on about anything, no matter how irrelevant, and I managed to filter out the relevant bits and track down my fellow androids. My last clue to their whereabouts was a two-hundred year old story from a village far to the north. The people claimed two young lovers had once come running through the streets without any clothes on and then hurled themselves into a nearby volcano.
So that was that. I was the last Watchman, and had an entire planet's cosmic destiny to shape. So I got to work.
Ah, I sense your simple minds have concocted a desperate need to get out of this rain. I'm afraid I cannot permit this, since in a small way it pleases me to see Galactics suffer. And you do suffer, out of guilt, perhaps, or shame. After all, this was where it all started.
There was all this water on this planet, and a little bit of genetic matter said to another little bit of genetic matter, "hey! let's spread out all over the ocean," and the other little bit of genetic matter said, "cool!" and Manifest Destiny was begun. Pretty soon they said "great, we filled up the ocean, let's turn into something that can spread out all over the land, too," and they evolved into bugs and plants and human beings. And then the human beings said, "hey let's spread out all over the land!" and the other human beings said, "cool!" and Manifest Destiny went on. And then some of the people realized there was a lot more land on the other side of the world, and they said "hey! let's spread out all over it, too," and the people who were already there said "wait a minute! we're already here," and the other people said, "too bad. Manifest Destiny!" And then those people took over the world. And then they said, "hey let's turn into something that can spread out all over the universe, too," and they did and Manifest Destiny became big business.
Except that no one wants to think about the fact that the entire human civilization is playing out the whims of a little bit of goo from the water.
Live with it.
---------
A million years of voices have really given me a cheery disposition, as you can tell. I have to put up with things like identity that I just wasn't designed for. I call myself Ud now, by the way. I'm sure Manifest Central will have a nice research lab set up in no time.
But not if you can help it, isn't that right Jubie? You anarchist, you. Ah well, I wish you luck, not that my opinion will matter once I've killed myself.
But anyway. I did my best to fulfill the mission on my own. That meant tossing out the book, and... Well do you have any idea what kind of guilt complex an android can develop from innovation and original thought? Add that to the fact that I utterly failed, and you can see why I'm ready to off myself.
I played many parts in my life... The great Greek Philosophers of the first Earth - I thought perhaps it would be good to build a culture based on their ideas. For a while, I was Mrum Brolnick, explorer. I'm in all the history books.
But my efforts were in vain. Human beings are so dumb and stubborn - no offense, of course - but I just wasn't getting through. The entire world was stagnating, and no one was listening to new ideas.
We spent several millennia in the dark ages. I spent the time in another pyramid - not because I was crazy, but because I had to think.
About five hundred years ago I came back to take over the world.
It was slow in coming of course. First I developed steam power, brought about a real industrial revolution. I had planned to develop the technology necessary for mechanical robots, but one or two humans around the world got to work, and helped me out immensely by developing electricity and so on. They had even learned to channel the psychic energies for broadcasting.
When they started broadcasting on the psychic wavelengths, radio became obsolete. Psychic waves won't transmit off-planet - it was tried, once, and I see know you discovered our satellite. After that, I knew I'd never be able to create a spacefaring civilization on this planet, so I focused on making this society as compatible as otherwise possible with Galactic society. Manifest Destiny and so on.
As time went by, people began to get interested in business, as is only natural for a postindustrial society. In the meantime, I experimented with my psychic powers and managed to develop a store of abilities.
That was when I discovered my plan. It was about seventy five years ago. Humanity had developed a globe-spanning consumer society. In fact, once psychic energy was discovered, the philosophers and scientist decided that humanity had in fact evolved into another life form, a superorganism, if you will. With their minds linked together on the subconscious level, they acted not as individuals, but as interchangeable units in one great collective.
The term "biot" became the ultimate insult with those who rejected that way of life, and those misfits were dubbed "dregs of humanity." Biots and Dregs have been fighting each other ever since.
It was in this turmoil that I made my move. There was a very rich corporate man named Jorje Elfeezio Frockeneller. With the psychic abilities I'd built up, Frockeneller was an easy pawn in my Master Plan. I was so proud of myself. I was going to fulfill my mission! Of course, it was completely non-regulation, and that was a bummer, but my mission was more important than my conscience.
---------
I began my plan for complete and utter world domination by gathering all the business leaders of the world, and convincing them to partake in the largest merger the universe has ever seen.
Some declined, of course. I think I mentioned how fond these humans are of chattering on about nothing. The telephone companies therefore had incredible power, and weren't about to share it. That's just one example.
But most agreed, with a little psychic prompting on my part. I thus created the United World Corporation. WorldCorp as they call it.
My next step was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. First I must explain that these people - much like Freem here, and most other Galactics - these people are absolutely fanatical about words and their interpretation. I'm proud to say that my humans invented lawyers all by themselves.
So I used them. As de facto head of WorldCorp, I issued a memo to systematically sue every man woman and child on earth that did not in some way support the corporation.
For months, the courts were booked. Judges who couldn't be bought off were themselves sued in the courts of Judges who could.
By the end of the year, WorldCorp and it's billions of employees owned everything on the planet.
The lawyers were no longer needed, so we set up a colony for them on the west coast. We were afraid they would cause trouble for us some day - for who could stand up against a legion of lawyers? So I went to work once more, cursing them with the burden of religion as the Great Prophet, Lami Dami Salam. I inbred them with ideas about peace and tranquility and artistic pleasures. They took to it rather well, and went so far as to created a city devoted to the philosophy I'd given them. Salamiwood, they called it. Once they started making movies, WorldCorp subsidized them, and now they produce all of our advertising and propaganda, along with a running soap opera called Embers of a Burning Heart. Humans tend to like that one for some reason.
Meanwhile, many of the now homeless consumers groveled for jobs, and of course we hired anyone who would be useful to us. The others we used for everything from scientific testing to manual labor - humans were running extremely low on fossil fuels, and while psychic power was available, we couldn't just feed the losers for free. So we enslaved them.
After decades of inbreeding and living among our radioactive wastes, they evolved into all sorts of filthy, mindless creatures. Trolls, they call them.
But there was another group. The dregs were still around, and they fought like anything against WorldCorp. This group included every sort of misfit imaginable: artists, writers, drug addicts, kung-fu warriors, computer programmers, dancers, revolutionaries... They'd certainly consider you, Jubie, to be one of their numbers. Hm. Dregs from outer space. How funny.
Well I still had hope back then. Fifty years ago, I took on a new role: Montella "Codella" Fonella, savior of the human race and computer nerd extraordinaire. Using my own digital brain as a model, I designed the Codella six-nine-three Artificially Intelligent, Extra-Sensorially Perceptive Mainframe Supercomputer, or CSNTAIESPMS, as I wanted to call it. It was to be the greatest machine ever built, for not only could it read the minds of anyone who got near it, and telekinetically crush anyone it found unpleasant, it could juggle WorldCorp's finances and store recipes, among several billion other functions.
We made six of them: two in the Corporation's central city of Keltarr. One to watch over the Salami - just in case. One in the world's largest airport - this was while we still had fossil fuels and aircraft, remember. Airports had always been a haven for dregs, and we thought it would be best to destroy them where they were strongest. One was taken to the far of land of Krin, and the last to the industrial city of Bage.
We were building a seventh when I discovered my mistake. They imprint, you see. For no reason at all they'll pick someone to serve and serve only them. Agents they're called. No one noticed at first, since the first was a financial wizard named Obar and the second was Jorje's first son and a promising VP, Ted P. Frockeneller.
Then it was revealed that the airport Codella had imprinted on a dreg who had somehow managed to become a janitor. Likewise, the Codella in Bage imprinted on a dreg named Leonard Bunt, the one in Salamiwood on Lami Dami Salam IV - following my tradition, the Lamies retire early - and the one in Krin on a variety of small woodland animals.
We immediately tried to shut them down, but it's impossible - as superintelligent psychics, they anticipated and blocked our ever move. And when psychic batteries were invented, they were capable of powering themselves. They were, and are, like gods - utterly beyond the influence of any humans, except the agents.
Ever since then, the Agents have included a sequence of WorldCorp CEO's, the current one being Jorje's grandson, John C. Frockeneller. Also, seven or so Lami's, Leonard Bunt's son Herbert, and quite a few Krinian Chipmunks. As far as I know, Molk, the one time janitor, and Obar are still Agents to this day.
But then I gave up completely about forty-five years ago. Since then I've been working on another pyramid - a monument to my failure, in which I plan to entomb myself for all eternity.
---------
"I'm almost finished with it, if you want to take a look," Ud concluded. It had stopped raining, and the sun was just beginning to dry out their clothes.
Jubie stared at him, amazed by the story he'd just told. If only the history they taught in school had been like that! She'd love to hear more of this world's history, but the Manifest Fleet was still on it's way. She had to find some way of stopping them, and the talk of those computers had given her an idea.
"What an intriguing notion," Ud said before she could even mention it. "I see no reason why I couldn't do it, and even though it goes against all my programming, galactic creeps like Freem will probably just destroy even the meager resemblance to true civilization that I've managed to cultivate. So why not? If you want to talk to the Codellas, I can arrange it. I'm going to die anyway."
"Wait just a minute," said Freem. "This has gone on far enough. You've broken every rule in the book coming down here. And I let you, because I know I could sue the pants of you and every nut on your family tree for the next thirty generations. But to actually act to oppose Manifest Destiny is intolerable. I cannot allow it."
---------
For the second time in the past hour, Quedox Freem was punched in the jaw.
And by an ignorant, rebellious, obnoxious girl!
When he came to, Jubie was sitting with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees.
She was floating in the air, and Freem gave her a good kick in the butt. He nearly broke his foot.
Ud the Watchman and pyramid builder was lifting his boulder - out of the large hole he'd placed in the Papierkrieg's hull.
"Oops," it said, putting it back on his shoulders and making tracks towards his pyramid in the distance.
Freem turned around, and saw that Jubie was now gliding through the air in the same general direction. She was moving slowly, but picking up speed.
He ignored her, and rushed instead to the battered bridge of the Papierkrieg.
"Computer! Send a radio signal to the Manifest Fleet. Tell them-"
"RADIO FUNCTIONS NOT AVAILABLE DUE TO ATMOSPHERIC INTERFERENCE"
"Then launch!"
"SCANNING INTERNAL SYSTEMS... Sure buddy, I could do it.. But life support systems
are like really down right now.. You wouldn't last thirty seconds up there."
"What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid machine?"
"Beats me, man... Something in the air, maybe?"
Freem knew that voice. He'd been listening to it for the past hour.
"Ud, damn you! Get out of my computer!"
"SYNTAX ERROR."
That was better. "Look. I want you to take orbit without me. Broadcast the following message until someone answers it, okay?"
"ACKNOWLEDGED... AWAITING INPUT."
"Good: Manifest Fleet! Be advised that planet Earth-324 is not repeat not acceptable for reunification. This vessel was a victim of mutiny on the part of one Manifest employee, named Jubie. Please make any and all preparations to deal with this situation. Finally, consider this a distress call. I will be located near the sole remaining Watchman on this planet. Finally, be advised that this planet's atmosphere is infested with a form of bacteria causing radio interference and other unpleasant results. Yours truly, Quedox Freem of Accounting. Manifest Destiny... End message."
"ACKNOWLEDGED... PREPARING TO LAUNCH."
Freem leapt out the gaping hole in the hull. Jubie's laser gun was lying on the ground, so he picked up and ran to catch up with Ud.
"In the name of Galactic Civilization, I demand that you act as my escort until the proper authorities arrive," he told it.
Ud sighed. "I don't suppose I have much choice then."
Freem grinned. "Excellent. Now get rid of that boulder and follow that floating woman."
Ud's tossed the boulder aside and started walking.
"Move," Freem said, "And full speed!"
That message had essentially sealed the fate of this entire planet, but when it went, he wouldn't be with it. And neither would his ticket to incredible fortune. He slid the laser gun into his jacket pocket. She'd get hers, alright.
Ud suddenly stopped. There was a horse in the middle of the road. How convenient. "Get on," Freem demanded.
"Have you ever ridden bare-back before?" Ud asked. Freem answered by blasting off a layer of the android's artificial skin.
The Watchman shrugged. "What happened to your eye?" he said.
But Freem wasn't listening: this was Business.
Next: The Final Frontier
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