We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 5: Chapter 46: Moot Time

Book 5: Chapter 46: Moot Time

Bob

July 2344

In Virt

Isent a message to Theresa. Moot’s in a few mils. See you there?

Already arrived, came back immediately. Move your tail.

Heh. That had become Theresa’s favorite expression. For some reason, the Quinlans had never coined the phrase, despite actually having tails. But it had since become a meme both in the Quiniverse and among bio Quinlans.

I popped over to the moot hall, to find Bill, beer in hand, sitting with Theresa in her human avatar. I eyed Theresa’s drink. She had, for some reason, become partial to hard cider. That was a recent addition to the moots and a bit of cultural contamination from the ex-human side, as no Bob would ever have suggested putting it on the menu. Original Bob had once gotten drunk on cider as a teenager. I shuddered at the memory.

“Hey, Bill. Whassup?” I said, sitting across from Theresa.

“Well, the world isn’t coming to an end or anything,” he replied. “I just thought we were due for a moot. I sent out a general invitation, but these days, if we get a few hundred attendees, it’s a good day.”

“Some minor bits of news, though. The Pav have mounted an expedition to their home world. No surprise to anyone, despite their earlier reluctance.”

“I have yet to meet a Pav,” Theresa interjected. “I should like to, I think.”

“We could do that. But you’d have to do it in a manny. The Pav are highly antagonistic to VR. I think it’s because they see it as a Bob thing.”

“Whenever you can arrange it. Should I appear in Quinlan form or human?”

I snorted. “I’m not sure which is less bad. On the one hand, they don’t like humans, but on the other, they might consider a Quinlan a prey animal. They are at least part-time carnivores.”

“They’d get a very large surprise,” Theresa said. “We may look like large, fat beavers, but you’ll find our teeth and claws far more effective.”

I smiled at her. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m on your side.” Then to Bill, “So what else?”

Bill glanced meaningfully at Theresa, then raised his eyebrows slightly. I got the message right away: no talk of wormholes in public. I gave him a small nod, and he replied casually, “I got an email from Ferb a few of months ago. Someone named George is sending back reports from a couple hundred light-years farther up the galactic axis. I’m waiting for updates. Oh, and I talked to Steven last week … ”

“Professor Gilligan?”

“Uh-huh. Someone in his consortium has suggested putting mover plates around an O’Neill cylinder and making it into a kind of generation ship.”

“Cool. What for?”

“I think mobility is just better than no mobility.”

I laughed. “If they can finance it, why not?”

Theresa spoke up. “I don’t think Anec has made this public yet, but we have a ship ready to depart for that system the Bobs earmarked for us, with ten thousand Quinlans in stasis. Anec is delirious with joy. Well, as delirious as he can get. He will finally have what he calls ‘locational redundancy.’ He’s cloned himself to run the ship and administer the colony.” ??N????

“Wow. That is something,” I said.

At that moment, official moot opening time arrived, and people began popping in. In a few mils, I was surrounded by Bobs and miscellaneous ex-humans.

I leaned in toward Theresa. “By the way, I talked to a few people.”

“Good for you,” she said, and linked her arm with mine. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

I turned to her in surprise to find her grinning at me. “Okay, you got me. Cute.”

She dimpled. “I’m really beginning to enjoy being young again, Bob. I became very prim and proper as I moved into senior professorships, but it was never my natural bent. Now, I find I don’t care.”

I chuckled. “Just take it easy on people. They might need their hair and skin.” I paused. “Anyway, I was talking about the issue of Quinlans turning themselves off.”

Theresa was suddenly all business and removed her arm. “Oh?”

“My contacts tell me that ex-humans are doing it, too. Not a lot of them. And the arcologies do keep it quiet. It doesn’t look good, and trying to explain it away looks even worse. There’s just no upside for the companies.”

“Hmm, I don’t see Anec going that way.”

I smiled. “No, he has even less patience for politics than the Bobs. But a couple of suicides have left notes. The consensus is that they’re looking at eternity in front of them, and they already find themselves running out of ways to keep themselves interested.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. There are books to read, specialties to study—”

“Preaching to the choir, Teach.”

Theresa looked confused for a moment; then her translator must have provided context, so I continued. “The point, though, is that these seem to be people who have decided they don’t want eternal life, for whatever reason. I don’t want to sound callous or cold, but I think this is one of those cases where your responsibility to the individual only goes so far.”

She sighed. “I have to agree, Enoki. Er, Bob. I’ve had students like that. They learn all the lessons, memorize all the facts, but their minds can’t make music from it.”

Now it was my turn to be confused, until I realized it was a Quinlan expression. And pretty clear from context, really. “So keep doing what you’re doing,” I said. “Be sad when someone goes out like that, but in the end, it’s their choice.”

She squeezed my arm and leaned against me for a moment. “Good advice, Bob. Thank you. Now”—she gestured to the dais where an argument was going full volume—“what are these idiots blathering on about?”