Ada powered on her augments and authenticated herself in the Chain. A month had passed since she had replied to Constance St. James. A full month, during which the Unity could have notified her there had been a mistake and that her servicesâwhatever those might have beenâwere no longer needed. During which they could have cut off her supply of unlimited energy, revoking her newfound freedom and thrusting her back into impoverishment. She had been expecting the day to come ever since her response had been confirmed in the Chainâs ledgers.
But it hadnât.
After so long without energy austerity burdening her, could Ada ever go back?
She hoped she would never have to, but that didnât mean the day wasnât still approachingâdecision times grew exponentially as the size of the organization making them increased. Thatâs why the Chain was so stagnant: it was a self-composing network of nearly every human being on Earth, the biggest organization imaginable. Faced with an existential threat, indecision would be a death sentence. In this case, however, it may have been working to her advantage. So, Ada used her benefits as often as she could while she still had the chance.
Her first priority was making progress on her research. If time did run out and her Unity membership was revoked, Ada would forever regret not using this opportunity to improve her familyâs financial situation. She was fully funding Ezranâs energy budget as well as Lakayaâs, so that her sonâs significant medical expenses were covered. Both of them had been pestering her endlessly about where she was getting the cryptâEzran in person and Lakaya through a dozen unopened ChainMail messages. But Ada was still bound by the non-disclosure agreement, and she didnât want to lie, so she solved the problem by doing what humans did best: avoiding it.
She opened a portal to the Ledger of Insight. Normally, she would have sat in her favorite chair in her home environment and looked at text transcripts of the recordings stored in the Ledger. That was the best option for preserving a limited energy budget. Instead, Ada stepped through the portal into a fully rendered environment, energy savings be damned.
After a brief loading blackout, Ada appeared within a cathedral of marble, gold, and platinum she was certain broke the laws of both physics andâwere it constructed in the real worldâeconomics. She stood in the center of a football-field-sized atrium surrounded by six tiers of floors, each housing massive bookshelves containing all the knowledge accepted into the Ledger of Insight. Instead of colonnades to support the domed, stained-glass roof, sixteen waterfalls flowed from a misty white cloud that hovered near the ceiling and caught the kaleidoscopic light streaming in from the heavens. The moving water created a cool breeze and filled the building with a white noise that obscured conversations and allowed scholars to read in peace.
The place had almost felt pleasant. That is, until all the avatars of other people visiting the Ledger loaded in. Soon, the Ledger was filled with people reading at tables, holding conversations both lively and hushed, teleporting to and from different bookshelves, and generally just crowding Adaâs personal bubble. She always hated when people suddenly materialized around her. They may have been the stuff of bits, not atoms, but they still made her feel like she was back in the hospital room stuffed with refugees.
Still, the discomfort would have been worse if more people actually cared about knowledge. While most salved the vicissitudes of existence with their augments, visiting the Ledger of Insight wasnât exactly a common pastime. The accepted publications were scientificâor, to Adaâs dismay, pseudoscientificâarticles. Attempts at solving problems in the real world. No matter where you looked, you were sure to find something to remind you how broken civilization was.
However, as vast as this database was, it stored no real way to fix what was broken on Earth. No way to clean up the debris from the satellites destroyed at the beginning of the Energy War, nor any solution for the salts and aerosols that had changed the composition of Earthâs atmosphere. No proposals for breaking free from energy austerity. No cure for human nature. Nothing that could save humanity. Merely ancient wisdom sprinkled amongst toy problems solved by people diving deeper into some rabbit hole they dug themselves. Nothing but distractions that made the slow decline easier to bear.
Ada shook her head, them stomped toward the AI clerk who would guide her to what she was searching for. Sheâd seen the intriguing title of an article at the end of yesterdayâs session but had already been in the Ledger for thirteen hours straight. She recalled the title now and told the clerk, ââAdjusting the standard Ryleigh swarm intelligence algorithm for global solution likelihood optimizationâ by K.S. Rambure et al.â She eyed her battery indicator, which was still at nearly a full charge, then shrugged. âInteractive mode, please.â
âConfirmed,â the AI responded. âPlease step through the portal.â
The promised portal appeared next to Ada, rendering within it a real-time view of some space outside the Ledgerâs atrium. Automated systems such as the clerk werenât permitted to teleport anyone without consent. Ada had to initiate the process herself. She did so and found herself in the rendered room.
The publicationâs interactive space was customizable by the author of the work. Rambure had chosen to present his article in a room that looked like a planetarium without any seats. A high, dark ceiling contained a view of the Milky Way with distant stars subtly moving, as though affected by the rotation of the Earth.
The author began speaking and startled Ada. âWhat you see overhead are not stars but particles. Individual objects coordinated by the modified algorithm proposed by me and my co-authors.â
Ada turned to face him as he spokeâhis avatar was wearing a smart button-up shirt with a dumb pair of shoes that didnât match at allâthen she glanced up one more. All the stars began circling the center of the room, as though someone had taken a coffee stirrer to the galaxy. The stream of particles clumped closer and closer together until they appeared to be one single line of light, then trailed down from the ceiling and surrounded Ada.
âImagine that each of these particles is a drone governed by a swarm intelligence algorithm,â Rambure said. She didnât have to imagine it, though. The particles in the simulation transformed into microdrones that buzzed loudly around Ada and made it hard to hear the author.
âBefore deploying the swarm, a task is chosen, and the algorithm simulates the swarm completing it. Each drone has certain adjustable parameters in this virtual simulation, which can be optimized together as the algorithm simulates the swarm completing the task thousands of times per second with minor variations of the parameters.â
Ada was growing impatient, but she let the presentation continue. Maybe heâd get to the interesting part soon.
âDuring each iteration of the simulation, a solver uses the drones as inputs to an equation that computes some valueâtypically the total energy usage of the system. It then compares this iterationâs result to the last run. If the value was better than the last iteration, the new value is saved, and the process is repeated. If not, the parameters are reset to the prior values and adjusted in some different way.â
Ada couldnât take this dumbing down any longer. âWhy are you simplifying so much? Do you really think anyone reading your articles in the Ledger these days needs a primer on the basics?â
Rambureâs avatar didnât respond. It was just a recording of the author, after all. It remained motionless while the Ledger AI controlling it waited for Ada to finish her query.
She groaned. âJust skip to the conclusion.â
The simulation jerked around her. The dark galaxy overhead was replaced by a scene of gold and sky-blue with Biblical overtones. Evidently, the author had some elaborate presentation planned for his work. She rolled her eyes. Delusions of grandeur, thatâs all it was.
The author continued, though with far more fervor in his voice than Ada deemed necessary. âAs weâve shown, by decreasing the Ryleigh coefficient of determination from 0.46 to 0.39, a global optimum can be achieved with only a minor impact on the energy usageââ
âStop!â Ada shouted.
The author froze mid-sentence, his avatar holding one finger up in the air and maintaining an embarrassingly stupid look in his face. Good. A capture of this moment should have been the image on his professional bio, that way no one would confuse this guy with someone with any good ideas.
âHow did you get this sad garbage published in the Ledger of Insight?â
At least the angelic scene overhead made sense now. Rambure and his clueless compatriots thought they had achieved the impossible. By adjusting one coefficient⊠It almost made Ada laugh, but she was too angry that this mockery of scientific thought had been accepted into the Ledger. It threw into question every other article sheâd read, not to mention the validity of the database as a whole.
The author snapped into a neutral pose but had no response to her rhetorical question. Instead, he asked, âWould you like to leave a review?â
It would be a waste of time, but Ada had to vent. âYes,â she said, and almost felt bad when the author smiled his thanks.
Almost.
The AI waited while she gathered her thoughts. It didnât take long.
âThis article is an utter waste of time. That you would deign to publish it says all that needs to be said about your so-called contributions to the research community. If you attended university, immediately get a refund because apparently, they never taught you that a global optimum is impossible to achieve with an evolutionary algorithm. But my guess is that you never received any education, self-taught or otherwise. An entirely new fork of the Ledger of Insight simply to remove this one article wouldnât be too harsh, despite the vast undertaking it would be. If the opportunity were used to remove all of your published work, the costs would be justified. One star.â
The sentiment analysis algorithm of the ledgerâs AI had the decency to make the authorâs avatar frown. âThank you for your feedback. Iâm sorry you didnât find my research to your liking. If youâd like to view my other works, a portal to my bibliographyââ
âExit,â Ada interrupted, though for a moment she was tempted to go leave scathing reviews of the rest of his research. Instead, she was back in the atrium, standing before the clerk.
âCan we please expunge that article from the database?â she asked.
âMy apologies, Ms. Bryce,â the AI said. âRemoval of transactions from the Ledger of Insight is impossible.â
She knew that, of course. But it didnât hurt to ask. Maybe a bug in the AIâs programming would accommodate her request and delete the whole database. It might even have been justifiedâŠ
The problem was nothing ever got lost in the Chain. That was often touted as one of its benefits. Times like this, however, illustrated how it was also one of its greatest drawbacks. Ada knew all too well the ramifications of perfect memory. No information was lost. Unfortunately, that included the times when you did something really stupid youâd rather forget. Or worse, when a massive conflict breaks out in your childhood and ladens you with all sorts of tragic memories. She supposed most other childhood victims could just repress those, not worrying about them until they mysteriously manifested in some way later in life. But no, Ada was stuck with hers. Whatever harmful behaviors her trauma led to, Ada couldnât fathom. That was the real tragedy. No one ever knew how broken they were until it was too late.
When had they crossed that point of no return with Earth? Was it the Energy War? The first Industrial Revolution? Maybe it was so far in the past, no one would ever pinpoint it. Probably, it was when humans became the dominant species on the planet. Just like the algorithm described in Rambureâs work, the initial conditions could doom the entire process to an evolutionary dead-end.
It was no wonder everyone spent most of their time consumed by their augments. The real world was too depressing, and since humans were the root of the problem, there was no possible solution. In the Chain, at least there was still some joy to be found. Ada turned on her privacy bubble, and the Ledger went gray around her. All of the avatars faded out of existence, leaving her alone and giving her room to breathe. She gestured to open the directory and began flipping through recommended Linksâdifferent locations in the Chain she could visit. The recommendation engine, being part of her implanted augments, analyzed her mood and her desires to provide a selection of experiences it thought she might be interested in.
She wasnât making its job easy.
Ada didnât know what she wanted, not exactly. She knew she had to perfect her research, so should she stay in the Ledger to continue working? The Links in the directory reflected thatâmost were additional scholarly works, some of which even sounded promising. She made a mental note of those, then filtered the Ledger out of the recommendations. Right now, she just wanted to be elsewhere, away from any reminder of the offline world.
It was an oft-cited maxim that any experience that could exist did exist in the Chain. Want to inhabit the mind of the extinct Siberian tiger for its entire life cycle? Here are three dozen options. How about a journey to a more hopeful future where you can pilot a star-hopping spaceship with your intrepid crew? Just pick a universe. The Links presented to her ran the full gamut, from awe-inducing religious experiences to some seriously depraved recordings whose preview portals made Adaâs gorge rise. It was up to you to set the bounds of your comfort zoneâand when to travel outside of it.
When she noticed sheâd been evaluating options for ten minutes, Ada realized she didnât have the stomach to remain in the Chain any longer tonight. However, she had even less of an appetite to leave. Only desolation awaited her outside, a world devoid of color. Luckily, she didnât need the Chain to provide her with any distractions. She could do that all on her own.
With a swipe of her hand, Ada opened a portal back to her home environment and stepped through. She disconnected from the mesh network and ran a quick scan to verify she wasnât linked to anyone, then unlocked an unadorned wooden door that led to her augmentsâ memory vault.
As she entered the vault, all of the overlays vanishedâno more battery indicator, no more bio status, no more connectivity icons. Even when in the real world, these displays normally accompanied her vision. But this space was designed to be more private, and the reminder that you had a device implanted among your neuronsâpotentially monitoring everything you didâwas unnerving when you were accessing your deepest secrets. True, realistically they were still there, but the memory vault code was all open source, and there had yet to be a single recorded case of memory theft.
Over the past five years, there had been two Chain-wide votes to modify the regulations surrounding memory vaults in the Ledger of Edicts. Both had badly failed. As though everyone knew all hell would break loose if something so precious could be tampered with. Ada normally ignored alerts that she was requested for a vote, dismissing them without giving them a second look, let alone stepping through their portals into the Forum. But news of both of those votes had been broadcast all over the Chain, so those were two of the few she had actually participated in. Humanity had already ruined physical reality; the least they could do was preserve virtual reality.
Thankfully, most people agreed. Adaâs vault reminded her that despite the downsides, her perfect memory wasnât only a curse. She had carefully curated it to contain only positive scenes from her past. Each was displayed as if it were a two-meters-tall painting in a museum, all meticulously organized by category and date. She strolled through the gallery.
On her left were the most fun times sheâd had in the Chain, including when sheâd first gotten her augments and binged the history Links, embodying countless historical figures for recreations of their entire lives. To her right were images from her short-lived marriage, more bittersweet than anything else in here. But it was important for her to hold on to those. She had so little contact with her ex-wife and her son, Jean, these days that she needed some keepsake to remind her of the good years. However, she wasnât quite ready to relive those memories yet; she was still harboring some bitterness over the divorce and the decisions that led to it. So, she continued moving forward through the gallery, toward the frames that contained visions further back in her past. Ada needed some comfort right now, and this was where it could be found.
Most people didnât have the luxury of childhood memories in their vault. Augments were needed to capture the memories, and they were illegal for anyone under the age of sixteen. There were certain Links that promised to restore old memories for new recording, but the results always had a dreamlike quality to them. Adaâs ex-wife had shown her some of those once, when she and Ada had temporarily linked their vaults together. It was intimate, allowing someone you loved to inhabit your body and witness a close-kept and cherished experience. But when Ada had stepped into Lakayaâs shoes, she was disappointed by the lack of clarity with which her early memories were rendered. Time had fragmented them into incoherence. When Ada and Lakaya had returned to the gallery, her ex-wife was radiant. She pressed Ada for her reaction, and though Ada was disturbed by what sheâd seen, sheâd put on a fake smile and told Lakaya what sheâd wanted to hear. It hadnât fooled her though; Lakaya had always been able to see right through her.
Adaâs own childhood memories were rendered in perfect resolution, as if sheâd had the augments all along. It had taken some effort on her partâmany hours spent in meditation Links trying to summon the memory she was targeting. After capturing them, some still had the bells and droning chimes in the background, as if her childhood had had a calming soundtrack. In reality, the soundtrack to her childhood was the dissonance of guns and bombs. There was a reason this vault was so sacred to Ada. If she relived the good memories enough, might the bad ones start to fade away?
So far, that hadnât proved to be the case. The bad memories were more salient than sheâd once hoped. That didnât stop her from tryingâany chance to relieve her of her suffering, she would take.
After deliberating for a few seconds, Ada decided what moment she wanted to re-experience. She stepped through the painting into a comforting, distant past.
âReady?â Uncle Ezran asked.
Ada firmed her grip on the handle of the wooden chest and nodded.
âAll right, little one. Now, be careful.â
âI wonât drop it, Uncle Ezran,â she promised. Heâd been worrying over this chest for the whole move, especially as they rode up the bumpy mountainside. Ada hadnât gotten a chance to look inside, but whatever was in there was important to Uncle Ezran.
He looked at her through his thick spectacles, then smiled at her. âI know. Remember what I said?â
âLift with your knees, not your back.â
âAnd if you are going to drop it, say so.â He squatted down and Ada followed suit. âOne, two, three, lift!â
Ada surged to her feet with Uncle Ezran. They carried the chest slowly, one step at a time, Adaâs thighs, back, and arms aching all the way. Though it wasnât a far walk from the back of the old moving vehicle to the threshold of their new home, it was a heavy load for an old man and a little girl. But if they couldnât do it themselves, it wouldnât have gotten done. Ada remembered what her uncle had said all those years ago.
âAll we have now is us. You, and me, and a world in which we must make our own happiness.â
Making your own happinessâsomething about that had always stuck with Ada. Where else would it come from in this broken world?
A warmth bloomed in Adaâs chest at the thought that Ezran entrusted her to help build their new home together. It sure beat sitting around and watching the world get worse all around you. Uncle Ezran understood better than anyone. Ada needed as many distractions as she could get, lest she be swept back into the past by her bad memories.
However, just as they passed through the front door, Ada realized she couldnât carry the chest for a second longer. âI canâtââ was all she managed before it slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floorboards with a reverberating thump.
Uncle Ezran lowered his side of the precious cargo to the ground, then rushed around to Ada.
âIâm sorry,â she whimpered when she saw the tears in her uncleâs eyes and the briefest flicker of anger.
âIt is all right.â He sighed, and patted her arms, looking down at her feet. âYou still have all your toes, yes?â He forced a smile, but Ada knew he didnât really mean it. She looked away, trying to push the guilt down as it built up within her.
âHello?â came a voice from the front door, and Ada spun around in surprise. A plump, older woman was standing in the doorway holding a plate of cookies. Their intoxicating, buttery smell confirmed they were freshly baked. Adaâs mouth began to water. âEveryone feeling well? We heard a loud bang from outside.â
A boy with russet hair who looked to be about Adaâs age poked his head out from behind the woman, flashed a bright smile, and waved. âI brought a gift too!â he shouted, then shoved his way past the older woman. He tossed something toward Ada. She reached out to catch it, but the thing started buzzing and hovered clumsily around in mid-air, beyond her grasp. The boy held a gloved palm up and looked to be controlling the little drone with the motions of his fingers. His tongue protruded from pursed lips as he concentrated on not letting it crash into the wallsâunsuccessfully. It clattered to the floor, and Ada giggled.
âGuillermo, please,â the woman scolded. âWe havenât even introduced ourselves to our new neighbors and already you are causing havoc.â Was this the boyâs mother? The two looked nothing alike. The womanâs hair was long, black, and wavy, and her face was much rounder than Guillermoâs.
Uncle Ezran rapped on the walls with his knuckles, back to his jolly self. âNot to worry. This house has plenty of wear and tear. It will be a good project for Ada and me, fixing it up.â Ada loved how quick he was to forgive; even when the world had taken everything from him, he still had it in him to act with grace. âPlease, come in. Keeping you out in the cold for so long, I believe I must apologize to you, MrsâŠ?â
âJust âmissâ,â she said. âMs. Francis Erlein, and this is my adopted son, Guillermo.â A flirtatious smile flicked across her face.
âAdopted?â Uncle Ezran sighed wistfully and glanced at Ada. She didnât know what Ezran was thinking, but Ada imagined this boy must have lost his parents in the war too. âAnd how old are you, Guillermo? No older than twelve, I imagine.â
âIâm thirteen!â Guillermo said proudly.
âThirteen, of course. Pardon me. Only a year older than Ada.â Uncle Ezran gave the Erleins a shallow bow. âI am called Ezran Fischer, and this is my adopted daughter. Say hello, Ada. Do not shy away.â
Ada raised her hand to wave, then the whole world flickered and blinked out.
After a moment of being dazed, Ada realized she was waving at the wall. She rubbed her eyes to clear her mind. What had just happened? Sheâd never before been ejected from a memory partway through. That was supposed to be dangerous, and she understood why. Part of her still felt like she was in the body of her twelve-year-old self. But she was in her home environment. A flush of heat ran through her body, and she hugged herself. Who had pulled her out of her vault?
A priority alert was flashing in the bottom-right of her vision. She reviewed it and drew in a breath. Lakaya had sent her a message in ChainMail tagged as a family medical emergency.
Panic snapped Ada fully back to the present as she scrambled to open the message and activate the attached portal. An emergency involving Jean would drag her out of any scenarioâin the Chain, in her vault, the dangers did not matter. Her son was the first priority. She didnât need an eidetic memory to remember that.
Ada stepped through the portal into her ex-wifeâs home environment. She spun around, searching for Lakaya, but she wasnât in this room. Damn her for not directing the portal to bring Ada directly to her. Was she going to make Ada search? In an emergency? She gritted her teeth, then hurried from the entryway into a room that resembled an old studio apartment.
Much was the same as she remembered from when she was last here two years ago, on the day they had dissolved their marriage. It had been just the two of them, and few words had been spokenâtypical for their last few months as partners. Ada had spent most of the time taking in the scene; sheâd always loved Lakayaâs home environment. It contained many good memories, and she didnât expect to be back any time soon.
A balcony through a set of glass double doors still overlooked a sprawling vineyard, deep green receding into the hilly distance where the sky hinted at the coming sunrise. In a corner of the room was a sort of shrine that Lakaya kept to remember her own past. The tricolor flag of the old French nation was draped over the table. Atop it were several slender statues of women carved from ebon wood, wearing bright fabrics with printed floral patterns, wrapped headscarves, beaded jewelry, or in some cases, no clothing at all. There was a floating model of the moon, representing Lakayaâs ancestor whoâd been on the team that first sent humankind to the lunar surface, and whose memoirs had inspired Lakaya to become a physicist.
None of that had been changed since their divorce. But one thing was missing from the displayâthe picture of Jean taken just days after Lakaya gave birth to him. Looking around, it didnât take Ada long to locate the missing photo. It was across the room in her ex-wifeâs hands.
âWhat happened?â Ada demanded. âIs Jean well?â
âDo you truly care?â Lakaya strode toward her.
Ada braced, but then her ex-wife edged past her to place her sonâs photo back in its proper place. She even smelled just how Ada rememberedâa light, flowery aroma with a hint of almonds. When Lakaya turned back, the picture frame was offset by a few centimeters from where it should be. Ada kept her mouth shut; pointing out little discrepancies between her memory and reality had gotten her in enough trouble, and that was when their relationship was on good terms.
âOf course I do,â Ada said.
Her ex-wife stared at her intensely. Behind those deep brown eyes, Ada knew she must be holding back many things she wanted to say. How Ada had grown so cynical after Jeanâs birth. How sheâd only visited them twice in the two years since their divorce, and that financial support isnât the same as being a mother. All the usual arguments when Lakaya let Ada know, âwe need to talk.â But Lakaya let them go.
Tearing up, she said, âHeâsâŠin the hospital.â
A fist of terror grabbed Adaâs spine and immobilized her. In her mind she was transported back to that day in the last year of the war, to the moments prior to the last time sheâd seen her parents. She wished they hadnât left her, but even more she wished she hadnât followed them.
Her face must have given away what was happening, and Lakaya must have known thatâd be her reaction. Despite their shared resentment, Lakaya comforted Ada with a soft hand on her cheek and a shushing sound to draw her calmly back to the present. It reminded Ada of why sheâd fallen in love with this woman. Whenever Ada fell into a fit of panic, Lakaya understood. Even when Ada felt she was embarrassing her in front of friends or family, Lakaya never held it against her. She knew what Ada had been through, and that her trauma didnât make her any less valuable.
Lakaya drew her hand back once Ada collected herself.
âIâm sorry,â Ada whispered. âThis isnât about me. Whatâs wrong with Jean?â
With closed eyes, Lakaya shook her head. âHe had a lung infection. We thought he fought it off, but it returned worse than before.â She hesitated, choking back a sob. âHe needs a lung transplant. Weâve found a donor. Itâs scheduled for a week from now.â
Adaâs throat tightened. When Jean had been diagnosed as an infant with cystic fibrosis, the doctors had told them this was a possibility. But they thought it would be a decade or more away. Jean was only four years old. âSo soon?â
âThe surgeon said it was the aerosols the old governments seeded the clouds with. Itâs like an allergic reaction or something. I donât know. It doesnât matter.â
Something like this happening was why Ada had pushed for genetic screening when they decided to have a child, to ensure the baby was strong and prepared for an uncaring, difficult world. But Lakaya had carried the child, and she wanted to do it naturally. The resentment Ada felt toward Lakaya for inducing such avoidable suffering never really left her. But lately sheâd started blaming herself more, for not fighting harder for her son.
Ada stuffed that guilt down. Self-loathing wouldnât do anything to help Jean now. âHow much is it going to cost? Iâll send however much money you need.â
âI donât want your crypt,â Lakaya snapped. Then, she cooled down. âHe wants his mother by his side. Your son is scared.â
In a hospital? Adaâs skin began to crawl. Without hesitation, she stuttered out, âIâI canât.â
âYou donât have to be there with any bots,â Lakaya promised. âThe doctors assured me they wouldnât bring any around while youâre there. Youâd only be there for a few hours, before and after the operation. The rest of the time, you can stay in my guest room.â
âItâs not that,â Ada said, her mind searching for excuses. She couldnât go back to a hospital. Ever. âItâs just so far to travel. It would use too much energy. The travel request would never be approved.â
âThatâs bullshit. Too much energy?â Lakaya scoffed. âI donât know where youâre getting the crypt, but thatâs clearly not an issue. Iâve seen your access records. Youâve been in the Chain for hours a day, doing God knows what.â
âYouâve been checking my hours?â Ada asked, taken aback.
âDonât try to play the victim here. Iâve been trying to catch you for weeks now, but youâve clearly been avoiding me.â
âI havenâtââ
âStop.â
âBut Iâmââ
âJust stop, Ada.â Lakaya was glaring at her. âI know what this is really about.â
Ada furrowed her brow. âWhat?â
Lakaya opened her hand with her palm facing the ceiling and a viewport appeared. Now Ada was truly confused. A voting record from the Ledger of Edicts?
âWhat is this?â Ada dragged the viewport closer so she could read it. It was a Chain-wide vote, initiated by the St. James Unity. As Ada read the details, the blood drained from her face. How had she missed this? True, she automatically delegated her votes on most topics to others who she considered experts in each subject area, but this vote involved a decision that she knew she was more of an expert on than most.
It was over a proposal by the Unity to send five volunteers on a manned mission to a newly arrived rogue planet.
A huge presentation was attached to the vote, containing everything from the launch vehicle the volunteers would board to the estimated duration of the mission. The biggest section was an explanation as to how the rogue planet had come to park itself in the solar system, and why it was so important to send a crew to investigate. Ada skimmed most of itâsheâd already been convinced by the more personal presentation she receivedâthen came to the bottom, where those whoâd volunteered for the mission were listed.
Over a dozen were proposed, but only those whoâd received enough votes to put them in the top five after the vote were chosen. Of those selected, three were men Ada had never heard of. One, Ada was surprised to see, was Constance St. James herself. But the most surprising name of all was the last: Ada Bryce.
And she had more votes than any other candidate.
âWhy did you volunteer for this?â Lakaya demanded. âKnowing thereâs chance youâll never return. That your son will never see his mother again.â
Ada was at a loss for words. She just kept staring at the words on the voting record in front of her, a resume for a job she didnât know sheâd applied for.
Ada Bryce. Mathematician with numerous contributions to the Ledger of Insight in the domains of geometric algorithms, swarm intelligence, and emergence. Ada will play a fundamental role in communicating with intelligent life if it is found on the planet, using the universal language of mathematics. She was contacted by the St. James Unity for recruitment late in the process, but her eagerness to contribute to the mission was unmatched. Ms. Bryce entered her candidacy just moments after being contacted by Constance St. James.
Her eagerness to contribute⊠Ada supposed that was a fair characterization. She had given a simple response to a simple question. Interested? Hell yes.
However, after her adrenaline subsided, she had begun to wonder if that wasnât an overly hasty reply. The Unity never made clear exactly what she was being asked to do. Ada had speculated as to possible roles she could fulfill, but never in her life would she have guessed this. She couldnât do this.
Could she?
âYouâre so eager to leave us behind?â Lakaya huffed. âSay something!â
âIâŠâ she muttered, then breathed out.
Ada wanted to say more, but the full weight of her actions had yet to settle on her shoulders. The vote had been approved, and she had been selected as a volunteer. The most highly voted volunteer, in fact. She flicked her finger to search the proposal for the date the rocket would be leaving, but she couldnât find it. Whether weeks from now, months, or years, Ada could soon be embarking on a spacecraft and leaving Earth behind. Escapism of the highest form, to sail among the stars on a grand mission to some alien planet. To see a civilization that hadnât been doomed from its inception, as humanityâs had been.
But doing it meant leaving her family behind.
Lakaya was right; there was a high probability this would be a one-way trip. And she knew she wasnât qualified to communicate with any form of intelligent life âusing the universal language of mathematics,â as the proposal stated. But if she refusedâŠwhat then? The Unity would cut off her energy supply, right when Jean needed it most. She wanted her son to have the highest quality care available, which would incur astronomical expenses. Ada could go back to her research, but that wasnât a sure thing, and no matter how well it turned out, it would never compare to the funding she could leverage from the Unity.
She had to do it. For Jean.
Ada set her jaw and faced her ex-wife. âYouâre right,â she lied. âIt is about that. I signed an NDA at the Unity and I couldnât say anything until the vote was released.â Ada shrugged. âI didnât realize it had happened already.â
Lakaya crossed her arms. âYou volunteered, but you didnât know the vote occurred?â
As always, Lakaya could tell Ada wasnât being entirely truthful, but Ada honestly had missed the vote. She searched the transaction identifier in ChainMail and saw she had dismissed the notification seconds after it had arrived. Still, she kept her mouth shut. Saying anything else would only further raise Lakayaâs suspicions.
âYou can still back out,â Lakaya said.
âNo.â Ada stood her ground. âI have to do this.â
âAda, it isnât just your life this decision affects. I know you donât care about me, but you have Jean to consider. Does he mean so little to you that youâre willing to entirely abandon him?â
An electric spike drove its way down Adaâs spine, conjuring images of her mother leaving the room behind her father. The touch of her motherâs hand tingled in her palm, and she found herself shouting, âWhat do you know about abandonment?â
She and Lakaya locked eyes. Pent up tears trickled down her ex-wifeâs cheek. âAll too much,â she whispered. âThe optimistic woman I fell in love with abandoned me years ago. What happened to her, Ada?â
Warm tears rolled down Adaâs face as well. Her throat constricting once more, she managed to squeak out, âIâll visit him virtually. The hospital will have holobots, child haptics. Itâll be like Iâm really there.â
âHe wants you here, Ada. Physically. Remember that? The comforting touch of another human?â
âWhat difference does it make?â Ada sulked. âHaptics are just as good as the real thing.â
Lakaya slapped her. Ada felt the blow, but it was attenuated by her pain filters. âThey are not as good as the real thing.â
Ada opened her mouth to argue, but Lakaya turned away and covered her face with a hand. âJust go, Ada. For our sonâs sake, I hope you make it back home.â
With a sweep of her arm, Adaâs ex-wife terminated their connection.
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