We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 4: Chapter 15: Functional Testing

Book 4: Chapter 15: Functional Testing

Bob

May 2334

Quin

The cargo drone settled carefully onto the very dead lawn. Or lawn-like flora, anyway. Whatever the plant once was, it had been used by the Quinlans as a lawn-equivalent. I glanced sideways at Bridget’s manny, an action made easy by the Quinlan form’s very mobile and independently movable eyes. The resulting double-image was hard for human minds to handle, but I was figuring out how to pay attention to one eye and ignore the other. It was something the Quinlans did easily and routinely, so it would probably be noticeable if the people in our group never did it. Like a human who never moved his eyes but only swiveled his head.

Bridget turned and smiled at me as the cargo bay doors started to open. Actually, she performed a beak-rubbing motion, which was the Quinlan equivalent. As had been standard procedure since my days on Eden, the manny operating system converted human expressions into native equivalents so that we never had to worry about the actual action. Language was handled in a similar manner, so we spoke and heard English, including colloquialisms. The O/S also chose English name equivalents for local proper names, and kept track of which substitutions were used.

The cargo doors finished opening, and we stepped out onto the surface of Quin. Bridget did a slow and probably unnecessary three-sixty, carefully examining the environment. “No obvious damage in this area. Any deaths here would have had to be from less obvious methods—radiation possibly, or biological. I don’t know if there will be anything to dissect.” She glanced at the drone hovering by her shoulder. Part scout, part beast of burden, part courier, it currently held her medical tools in its small hold.

The city, for city it was, had been built on the shore of a large, slow-flowing river. Instead of a maze of streets, the metropolis was crisscrossed by canals. The infrastructure had been set up so that the river flow turned over the contents of the canals, but with a mild current. That also meant that a design based on right angles would be suboptimal. The actual shape was more like slightly rounded diamonds, with the long axis along the direction of flow. Even if nothing else had been different, it would have made for a more elegant, less utilitarian design than the typical Earth city.

But in addition, the Quinlans seemed to enjoy embellishment for its own sake. Buildings were rarely just simple solid rectangles. We saw cantilevered terraces, elevated walkways between buildings, and even buildings with deliberately engineered gaps through their middles, like the dragon gates in some Hong Kong skyscrapers. Although I doubted feng shui was involved.

And the windows. Quinlans used both placement of windows and color tints to make the side of every building a piece of art. Like giant stained glass murals.

“That they did.”

We walked past one building, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. The facade around the entrance had been sculpted into what might be some kind of fairy-tale scene. Unless they actually had a species of giant rodent with a mouth that big … I wasn’t sure if I’d want to bring my children to see this montage. But then I reminded myself that people used to read Grimm’s fairy tales to children.

We walked along a path that ran beside a canal. We could see half-submerged boats and barges in several places. It was likely that the Quinlans used rivers like humans used roads. I wondered idly what rush hour must have been like. Would they use transit? Or would it even be a concept if you could swim like an otter?

The buildings we passed were multistory, but not the high-rise monsters that many Earth cities contained. I didn’t see anything over about six stories or so. Perhaps the Quinlans didn’t like heights. Or maybe they just didn’t see the point.

The most notable feature, though, was the amount of square footage set aside for green space. Every building had a terrace in front of it, and most canals had a treed path running along one side or the other. All brown and dead now. But it would have been beautiful before … just before.

We finally turned and headed back to the building on whose front lawn we’d landed. We had picked it deliberately, after an aerial survey, as the most likely place to find governmental stuff. It had a certain look of officialdom that seemed to transcend species barriers. A combination of pompous self-importance combined with lack of artistic touch or any kind of individuality, perhaps. Or I might be overthinking it.

Getting into the building wouldn’t have been a problem in any case for android muscles or roamer plasma cutters, but fortunately the front doors weren’t locked. We gazed around the large lobby and spotted a directory.

“Hmm, definitely governmental,” I said, perusing the listing, while the heads-up popped up translations. Licenses, statistics, taxes, all the usual things that seemed to infest civilizations everywhere.

“I’m most interested in finding corpses. Emergency Management sounds like something that would be staffed right up until the end. Fourth floor.”

Bridget pointed to a solid looking door near the elevators. We checked the door, and sure enough, it was locked.

“If this is a set of stairs,” I said, “as it appears to be—oof!” The door bent and sprung off its hinges as we gave a concerted push in unison—android muscles, remember—to reveal stairs going up and down. “Yep. And locked at ground level, just as they would be on Earth. So we can assume a similar level of distrust in Quinlan society.”

We proceeded up three flights of stairs, the rise and run looking odd to me but feeling perfectly natural when I went down on all fours. Like the Pav, Quinlans seemed to prefer to be on their hind legs but would go quadrupedal when travelling any distance. I couldn’t shake the image of a fat river otter when watching the videos of them getting around.

We reached the fourth floor and walked down the hall, examining doors and information plaques. The manny O/S didn’t automatically translate written information, but our in-vision heads-up display showed a pop-up translation when desired.

We soon found the offices of Emergency Management. The door wasn’t locked. Presumably there had been traffic in and out right up until the end.

There was no working lighting, of course, but Quinlan eyes had a large effective range to allow for both above and below water operation. Our android eyes were even better and covered a larger portion of the visible and surrounding light spectrum.

“There,” Bridget breathed, and made her way between the desks. A single dried husk of a corpse sat at a desk, head still cradled in its arms, as if the victim had simply fallen asleep at their desk and never woken up. I hoped it had been that peaceful.

Bridget gestured to the drone, which had kept up with us all this time. It floated down to desk level and the cargo door popped open. Bridget reached in and began removing items. “You going to watch?”

“I, uh, I have to do this other thing, over there,” I said inanely, and retreated with my dignity in tatters. I’d seen my share of violence and death on Eden, but somehow the clinical, measured experience of an autopsy added a whole new level of yuck. The manny wouldn’t throw up, but I still experienced the mental reaction of any human non–medical professional.

I heard Bridget begin to mutter to herself, no doubt dictating notes. As it happened, I could make myself useful in the meantime. I examined the office, trying for an anthropologist’s viewpoint.

The desks were desk-like. How many ways are there to present a horizontal working surface? The chairs were more like backless bucket seats with a slot to accommodate the Quinlan butt and tail. Each desk sported something that had to be a phone system, including a handset. Physical buttons were absent—there was a black plate that had probably been a touch screen.

I started randomly opening drawers. Papers, writing implements, and desk accessories dominated. A couple of drawers contained what might be fossilized snacks. I turned off my olfactory sense, even though after all this time there was unlikely to be any residual odor.

It struck me that the interior of this building was surprisingly dry. I’d watched the TV series Life After People when I was still alive, and the show made the point again and again that things would fall apart quickly once people were gone. But everything here seemed to be in pretty good condition. Was that better construction? Or milder weather? Or perhaps a complete absence of bugs, molds, fungi, and so on? I couldn’t use Mario’s survey of the first Others’ victim species he’d discovered for comparison, because the Others had taken the time to knock most structures down and procure the rebar and other metal components.

I tapped on one of the windows. It wasn’t glass. Possibly transparent aluminum or something similar. But that would be one reason for the lack of deterioration. Popped and shattered glass windows were one of the first ways in for rampant nature.

I carried on with my wanderings as Bridget’s voice continued to record her findings. It brought back my ongoing argument with Bill about how aliens would think and behave. Granted, an energy being or silicon entity would have a different outlook on life, but a land animal with the concept of individuality could only do things so many different ways. Desks were flat surfaces for working. Phones were devices for communicating with others at a distance. Doors separated spaces; lights lit spaces. People, or whatever, needed a place to eat and a place to eliminate waste.

I snickered. Maybe a race based on horses would have a different take on that last item. Or cows. I glanced down, looking for cow pies or the equivalent. Nope.

“Bob? Done!” came Bridget’s call. I hurried back to where I’d left her, to find her packing up her equipment. On the desk was—I looked away quickly. Best not. I made a mental note to only peruse the text of her final report.

She saw my reaction and gave me a quick smile, as quickly gone. “There weren’t any surprises in the autopsy. Our deep SUDDAR scans really did catch pretty much everything important about the Heaven’s River inhabitants. I found the remains of a large viral load in the tissues, though. I’ve taken detailed scans and forwarded them to the Skippies. They tell me they can run a simulation if we get enough cellular and DNA detail. It’ll tell us what we have.”

“How long?”

“Day or two, they say.”

“Great. Meanwhile, we’ve found a good place to park the cargo drone when no one is running these androids. Unless you have some more spots you want to check out?”

Bridget shook her head. “Nah, most of our surveys can be visual and SUDDAR. The Skippies are running drones in a search pattern of their own design. They intend to eventually map the entire planet’s infrastructure in detail and put up a virtual globe.”

“Huh. They think big.”

“But it’s all intellectual exercises. They are deliberately avoiding anything that involves contact with biologicals. Or even, to a lesser extent, Bobs. I had a talk with Hugh while we were agreeing on details for analyzing the results of this outing. He’s a nice guy—not a jerk in any way—but kind of, I don’t know, disinterested or distracted. As if we’re keeping him from his video games but he’s too polite to point it out.”

I nodded and sighed. “Yeah, Bridge, you’re not the first person to say that. We are living in an increasingly non-Bob universe.”

A text came in from Bill. You’ll want to test the mannies in water as well.

Ah. Fair enough. The envelope indicated it had gone to Bridget as well. She made a vague out there gesture. “Shall we take a dip in the canal?”

We looked down at the water. Given what I’d seen of the rest of the city, I was sure it would have been kept clean before. Now it had an oily surface sheen and far too much flotsam, although no actual trash. Still, it would do for testing, and it wasn’t like we could actually catch something. I grinned at Bridget, called, “Last one in …” and dove into the water.

I heard a splash behind me. There was a flicker as nictitating membranes covered my eyes, adjusting for the different refractive index. My vision was surprisingly good, considering the state of the water.

And the freedom! The manny O/S took care of the movement and reflexes, and I found myself swimming like an otter, curling and undulating through the water. A shape shot past me and slapped me on the head. I realized that Bridget had just laid down a challenge.

I accelerated after her, and she did a right-angle turn, heading straight down. She whipped around a submerged boat and pulled an abrupt reverse, speeding by me in the opposite direction.

Nice try, but no cigar. I just barely caught her tail with my front paw, but it was enough for tag. She turned and took up the chase.

We surfaced several times for air, even though the mannies didn’t really need it. The androids were designed to mimic the real thing, and that included an internal calculator to track when we should be running out of oxygen. We could ignore it, but in Quinlan company that would likely attract unwelcome attention.

Finally, Bridget shot out of the water and landed on her feet several yards from the edge of the canal, in a perfect penguin exit. I followed, staggering slightly as I landed.

“Bob doesn’t quite stick the landing,” she exclaimed. “The judges deduct half a point!”

“Half a point? I was robbed!” I responded, laughing.

We both sat down at the same time, curling ourselves on the dead non-grass.

“That was awesome,” Bridget said. “It’s almost like flying. Better, in some ways. And I know flying!”

“True. You’ve done enough of it. I think you hold the record for most species emulated, don’t you?”

She smiled at me. “I think Howard might actually have me by a couple. I’ll have to check. But anyway, this will be my first aquatic effort. Serious long-term one, I mean. The test with the dolphins on Poseidon was a, uh …”

She glared at me, knowing what was coming, and I said, deadpan, “Dry run.”

“I so hate that I see those coming now.” She started to lick her fur, then stopped with a jerk. “Oh, God. That’s gross.”

“Part of the Quinlan persona, Bridget,” I said, resisting the urge to groom myself as well. “Maybe we’ll turn that off for now and just let the maintenance roamers clean us off.”

“Works for me.” She glanced up as the cargo drone descended from the sky. It settled to the ground and we climbed in.

I placed myself on the rack beside her. “Okay, then. Let’s park this baby and go home.”

Bill flipped through the video window. “Looks pretty good. Couple of glitchy items, but those are all software. I’d say the androids are good to go.” He tapped the window. “Only one other concern, and that’s how the androids will handle vacuum. The new circulatory system might be subject to boiling under low pressure. Or worse, rupture.”

“No prob,” Bridget said. “Simple to test. Take one upstairs and open the cargo door. Contamination isn’t an issue in that scenario.”

“Good enough.” Bill turned to Garfield. “Can you take care of that?”

“Yessss, master.”

Bill snorted. “We can call in some Skippy help, if you prefer. Or your Gamer buddies.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Gives me a chance to use the android anyway.”

“On that subject,” Bridget interjected. “Will, if you want to practice using the androids on Quin, there’s lots of planet to explore, and I’m sure lots to learn yet.”

Will visibly brightened. “Hey, great idea. I can do that!”

“And go for a swim. It’s unbelievable!” I added.

“Are we good on the sociology front?” Bridget asked.

“The Skippies say they’ve extracted as much as they can from the current dataset. They’re spreading out as the spy drones move farther afield, but diminishing returns is probably rearing its ugly head. There’s not much more to learn from simple observation.” Bill closed the window. “The Gamers have the entrance tunnel all dug, and they’ve widened the hatch from the foyer to accommodate the mannies. There’s no indication that we’ve been detected so far.”

“Think about it,” Will said. “A billion miles of megastructure. How many cameras would you have to be monitoring to cover everything? And they’ve got mechanical sensors on equipment to detect most issues, so why bother? As long as we don’t break something, or turn something on, we’re golden.”

“Don’t break something.” I smiled. “An excellent motto for any age.”

“Do we have anything else outstanding, besides Garfield’s vacuum test?”

“Not really, Will. As soon as that’s done, we’re ready to start building the production models. Anyone want to make a speech?”

“We hate speeches,” said Garfield.

“Well, okay, then.”