We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 5: Chapter 49: The Quiniverse

Book 5: Chapter 49: The Quiniverse

Bob

August 2341

In Virt

I’d received an invitation from Theresa to attend the first Quinlan moot, and a token since this was going to be in Quiniverse dataspace. This was also a milestone for Theresa and Anec, as they would be officially welcoming their one-thousandth resident.

I activated the token at the required time and found myself in Quinlan form in an enormous pub. Theresa, seated at a picnic table, smiled at me and patted the bench beside her. Anec sat across from her, holding a coffee with both paws. Around us, a drone of conversation filled the hall as hundreds of Quinlans drank, talked, and ate.

“So what’s on the agenda?” I said, sliding into the seat.

Theresa looked at Anec, who made a slight hand motion back to her. Taking that as permission, she explained, “The intent here is to form more of a community for our replicants. Anec is concerned that most of the new residents have been engaged in solitary VR lives, with very little interaction with their neighbors.”

“I get that,” I replied. “Quinlans are social but not necessarily sociable. Being mobile, furred predators makes you much more able to strike off on your own. Humans”—I pointed to myself—“would have a lot more difficulty surviving outside of a tribe, so we more naturally tend to congregate.”

“Still,” Anec said, “solitude is suboptimal.”

I opened my beak to reply when a blaaat sounded from one end of the moot. I glared at Theresa, and she laughed. “Fair game, Enoki.”

Well, it wasn’t like Bill had a copyright, and if it worked, it worked. And it seemed to, as the attendees all turned to the sound. A Quinlan stood on stage, holding an air horn. “Daughters and Sons,” she announced in an amplified voice, “we are here to inaugurate the first Quiniverse moot and to welcome our one-thousandth member. It has been an admittedly slow start … ”

I started to tune out as I realized she was winding up into a good old-fashioned stump speech. Generally, I hate speeches. I glanced at Theresa, who seemed enraptured. Understandable, I guess. She had a personal stake in this, and possibly a reputational stake as well.

Then it happened. Loud voices started venting forth off to one side of the hall. I couldn’t make out what the source of the conflict was, but Anec commented, “Several Quinlans have decided that they are the one-thousandth member. I told Rita that she should name names, but noooooooo … ”

I almost laughed out loud at this expression of wry impatience from an emotionless AI. Anec was either very good at mimicry, or he wasn’t living up to his own billing.

All very interesting, but these were Quinlans, and this was an argument, and—yep, someone threw a punch. Or a claw rake, or something. Didn’t matter. In moments, that end of the moot hall was a hissing, spitting, raging ball o’ Quinlans. Anec did a facepalm but otherwise didn’t react. I looked at Theresa wordlessly.

“It’s VR, Enoki. I shouldn’t have to remind you. No one will get hurt.”

“Sure, but that just means they’ll keep fighting.”

Anec looked up at this, frowned, then did a sort of squint thing. The roiling ball of Quinlans turned into—I kid you not—the cartoon version of a fight from when I was a child watching TV. A sort of ball of smoke emitted lightning bolts, Quinlan heads, and limbs. Around us, Quinlans who had been watching the fight began to laugh, first with disbelief, then with uncontrollable mirth. The fight began to die down immediately as the combatants registered the laughter, and that it was at their expense. Within mils, they were looking around at Quinlans howling and rolling on the floor with laughter. I had to suppress a chortle myself. The ex-combatants all had cartoon X-shaped Band-Aids and parallel-line scratches, straight out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

I looked at Anec, and he shrugged. “I have been watching HumanTube.”

Whatever I might have thought of it, the tactic worked. The ex-combatants, shamefaced, all sat down and righted their beer steins, which miraculously refilled.

“Lectures and finger wagging would be ineffective,” Anec continued, “but being laughed at is harder to ignore. Fights at moots will not be tolerated.” He finished by glancing significantly at Rita, still on the dais. She met his glance and nodded.

“As I was saying,” she announced into the general buzz, “we are welcoming our one-thousandth member, Norm of West Elbow, to the membership … ”

And the speech was back on track.