From the top of Baker Street one could see the large dome being set up for lantern show. At Festival the interior would be darkened, and thousands of lanterns strung out in clusters to form a spectacular show. Cai and Jafar, a wife and husband of mine, helped the artisans make the lanterns each year. Superb craftsmanship, from what everyone tells me; thin bamboo strips woven together and covered with silk fabrics.
I only got the briefest of glances, though, as Kauppinen led the way down a half-spiral stone staircase beside an ivy-covered stone wall and into a secluded garden that dated back to the San Long, or Three Dragons, Period four centuries ago. Lord Kauppinen gestured for me to sit on the stone bench, but she stood some distance off as a delegation approached. The dozen petitioners were dressed in the most garish outfits, and escorted by a trio of vec Regulators gleaming brilliantly gun-metal blue in the sunlight. (The AI vecs with their robotic bodies made excellent Regulators.) The delegation’s spokesman, a short and dark Hindic, frowned at Lord Kauppinen. “This is the Singularity Intelligence?”
“I am,” Kauppinen replied. “You are the Xing from He Xian, come to petition for immigration status.”
I’d never heard of He Xian. A quick database query informed me that it was in a neighboring empire.
“Yes, that is correct. Our Overlord has cast us out.” He waited for a response, but all Kauppinen did was cock an eyebrow. After a bit, the man added, “Your Magnificence.”
The eyebrow came down. “I am aware of your situation, and of the problems that beset He Xian. You Xing are hedonists, and have continually ignored your Lord’s warnings to curb your appetites. Your Lord has declared that e will choose twenty or thirty billion citizens at random and force them into a virtual reality while chopping up the vacated bodies for fertilizer to feed the remaining trillions of citizens. Either that, or you must emigrate. You chose the latter option.”
“That is true, Your Magnificence. Most of the Xing chose the pleasures of the virtual reality, but to our faction — to us purists — it is a cheat. How can there be pleasure of the body without the body? Therefore, several billion of us have chosen to come here, to Huang De.”
“Where you intend to continue your filthy habits, no doubt. We don’t have room for you, unless you enter the virtual reality.”
“Your Magnificence! We have rights as sentient beings — ”
“In this star system, my colleagues and I are the governing body, and we decide what rights are yours.”
A dozen voices uttered protests. At a glance from Lord Kauppinen one of the vecs’ voices boomed out. “SILENCE!!!”
The petitioners became suddenly quiet. “You are wasteful people,” Kauppinen scolded. “You treat your environment as a looter’s prize, and turn your resources into garbage dumps so massive that the nanofacs can’t process the raw material into new toys fast enough. Your excesses are legendary, you breed like the vermin you are, and you waste resources as if tomorrow didn’t exist. But now tomorrow has arrived, and you cannot continue as before. You must give up your bodies and go into the virtual reality.”
“Never!” the leader cried out. “It is against our principles.”
“Then be damned. Your petition for immigration status is denied. The Regulators will escort you back aboard your ship. We will send a wormhole courier to He Xian to inform your Overlord of our decision.”
Kauppinen turned her back on the delegation, and the vec Regulators ushered the angry and protesting foreigners away.
“We have our own hedonists, Your Excellency,” I said.
“Yes, but never so many, and not so wasteful. Their Overlord has indulged them far too much, and produced such stupid and selfish children.”
I let the matter drop. Who was I to question a Post-Singularity Intelligence? Besides, such a being was better able to understand all the ramifications of the situation better than a mere modosophont. They say that numbers don’t lie, and it wouldn’t take much effort to calculate the impact these Xing would have on our society. Where the Post-Singularity Intelligences differed from us lay in their ability not only to see into the future — to carry the calculations to the limit — but to understand the need for appropriate action based on what the numbers predicted, and then to formulate the necessary policies. We baseline hu are too short-sighted for long-range thinking on that scale. Which, obviously, is why we no longer held the reigns of government.
We moved on to the street called the Harmonious Way, continuing to window shop. At the end of the row sat a Regulator kiosk, and beyond that a once-vacant lot. Robots no bigger than my hand were scurrying about in the lot constructing a garden that was part biological and part mechanical. Kauppinen stopped to say hello to the vec supervising the construction. “How are you today, Percy?”
“Hello, Lemmikki. It’s almost Festival, and you promised you’d have an answer for me by then.”
“Has it been a year, then? Well, it’s a very difficult decision, and I’ve been flip-flopping back and forth on it. Unfortunately, I’m sixty percent sure I will have to decline your proposal of marriage.”
The vec didn’t respond. It’s shoulders seemed to droop.
“I know you’re disappointed, but if we went ahead people would say that you married me just to acquire status. I don’t want people bad-mouthing you.”
“Thank you, Lemmikki. I am honored that you at least considered the proposal.”
“Not at all. I am honored that you asked.” She gestured at the robot workers. “Something for the Visitation Festival?”
“Not really. I purchased the land-use rights and intend to construct a garden of mathematical contemplation. Hey, did you hear what happened to the Chalk Girl?”
“Yes.” Well, of course. The angelnet guarantees that the Transapients know everything that goes on.
“A real weird, that,” Percy remarked.
“What happened to the Chalk Girl?” I asked. It had to be something other than her perpetual arrest record.
“Forgive me,” Kauppinen said. “Cristobol Ng, Sir Percival.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Ng. Well. The Hermit came out of her cave and down through Boh-Town on the way to the Agora. And she came upon the Chalk Girl doing a mural on the side of a building. Well, The Hermit scolded the Chalk Girl for vandalizing, and Chalky ignored her. So The Hermit beat the crap out of her. Very unladylike.”
“The angelnet had paramedics standing by,” Kauppinen said. “But none of the Regulators was about to interrupt or restrain a Transapient whatever e’s doing. I had a talk with The Hermit, and this shouldn’t happen again.”
I swallowed hard. “A Transapient beat someone up?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t believe the fine I had to levy against The Hermit on top of the compensation awarded to the Chalk Girl. Quite the scandal.”
“Oh, it’s all settled, then,” Percy said. “I hadn’t heard that part of it.”
“I haven’t heard any of this news,” I said. “When did this happen?”
“About fifteen minutes ago, real-time.”