Recursion

Constantine gazed at her.

– She has a point, said Blue.

In the half-light, he could just make out Mary gri

“That’s why I was put in here. I’m your conscience,” she said. “It’s a different world, Constantine. You’re fighting for the wrong side. What can we do to convince you of that?”

Marion spoke. “Mary hasn’t told you something else, Constantine. Out in the real world she was regarded as an expert in the field of personality constructs. When she volunteered to come in here she knew what she was committing herself to: the possibility of being turned off at any time. She came in anyway because she believes in what she is saying-”

At that her console suddenly emitted a shrill noise, distilled panic. They jumped to their feet and looked around. Something was coming.

Marion was shouting. “It’s DIANA. They have a pipe into the simulation! They’re looking for you, Constantine.”

“Should I run?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know.”

He took a few faltering steps across the stubble.

Marion called out to him. “No! Come back!” She was listening to the console. “They say we should stand close. In a huddle!”

Constantine came back. They huddled together. Mary to his left, Jay to his right.

“I don’t feel so good,” said Mary.

Constantine squeezed her arm. Brave Mary, he hadn’t known.

“Don’t worry,” he said. It sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

“What’s happening?” asked Jay.

The scenery around them blanked out. They were standing in a grey box.

“They’ve got us!” someone screamed.

“Hold tighter.”

“Oh my God,” cried Mary, sounding strange.

Marion was shouting again. “They’ve found the pipe. Berliner Sibelius has found DIANA’s pipe. They’re going to disco

“Too long…”

Was that Mary?

“Oh my God!” Mary screamed. The note dropped in pitch. The feel of her body was changing. Fat was melting away. She was changing shape.

Constantine looked at her. Her face was out of focus. She was becoming someone else…she was becoming…him. Constantine. She looked back at him beseechingly.

“Help me, Constantine…” she whispered.

Someone grabbed at Constantine and pulled him away. Dragged him through a door that had appeared, leading into a long, wide, low room full of strange machinery. They were ru

“Why are we ru

“Force of habit,” said Marion bitterly, coming to a halt. “We have humanity written right through us.” She was grey with terror.

“What happened there?” croaked Constantine.

Jay gave a nervous laugh. “Obvious, isn’t it? DIANA is trying to get a snapshot of you, Constantine. They need proof positive that you’re in here.”

“Why? They know I’m in here.”

“Yes, but they need the proof to present to the courts. Look, if a memory attack succeeds in wiping you out, 113 Berliner Sibelius will just run this simulation again. They’ve got your personality backed up in plenty of places. You’ll live the last three weeks over and over again until you give them what they want, and you will in the end, because each time they run you, they’ll learn just a little bit more about how to push your buttons. DIANA knows this. They’ve got lawyers out there. Lawyers who know who has copyright on your intelligence.”

Constantine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything was happening too quickly.

“I don’t understand. Who has copyright on my intelligence?”

– You do, of course, said Grey.-The real you. The one who works for DIANA.

Jay had been speaking at the same time as Grey. She continued:

“…and the real you will be demanding that what is quite literally his intellectual copyright should not be violated. He has the right to have all pirate copies destroyed.”

Marion was sobbing with terror now. It was infectious. Constantine felt panic bubbling up within himself. If he let it boil over, he would never get a grip on himself.

“Yes. Okay. But WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY?”

Jay slapped him. “Calm down. Think about it! DIANA almost got a snapshot of you. Mary was a decoy. They only had ten seconds before the pipe was closed. 113 BS turned her into a near copy of you. DIANA uploaded the wrong one.”

Constantine felt fear and disgust and incredulity.

“They did that to poor Mary?” He rounded on Marion. “And you still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys?”

Marion’s expression was now one of both anger and terror.

“They did that to Mary. And as you haven’t figured it out, I’ll spell it out. They will do it to me next time. Then they’ll do it to Jay.”

She shuddered.

“And I tell you this. Despite the fact that they did that to poor Mary, despite the fact that they will do it to me, I think that they were right. I still say that 113 Berliner Sibelius are the good guys. Constantine, you’re fighting for the wrong side.”

They wandered aimlessly through the low, wide room they had escaped into. It reminded Constantine of a forest where someone had cut away the tops of the trees and then placed a roof on top. In every direction they could see irregular patterns of metallic trunks rising from floor to ceiling.

“Where are we?” he asked after some time.

“Deep beneath Stonebreak. The very roots of the city,” answered Marion. She was crying now.

Constantine felt as if he should apologize to her. “I want to say something, Marion. If I could, I’d tell you what you want to know to spare you this…”

– You’re a fool, said Grey.-Even if you could speak, how do you know this isn’t all a trick?

Marion merely looked at the floor.

“It makes no difference, anyway, Constantine,” said Jay. “DIANA will wipe you in the end, whether you’ve told them or not.”

“Not true,” said Marion. “Why would DIANA waste their time silencing you once you’ve told all? These attacks will be costing them. They wouldn’t believe that Berliner Sibelius would keep us alive afterward. Where would the profit be?”

“No,” Constantine said, “you don’t understand. I want to tell you. It’s just that I can’t. The Grey personality is stopping me.”

He spoke the words quickly before Grey could stop him. He heard a sudden yelp of a

– It makes no difference.

Marion looked at Constantine in amazement.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner? I’m sure we could do something…”

Her console pinged. She held it to her ear.

“Twenty-two minutes,” she said. “They can suppress the Grey personality, but they say it will take twenty-two minutes.”

The room shuddered, pixellated, and returned to normal.

They looked at each other. Another attack.

– Twenty-two minutes? Grey laughed.-You haven’t got that long.

“Yeah, so how can we trust 113 Berliner Sibelius?” asked Jay.

“Because they work for the Watcher,” said Marion.

“That’s not an argument,” said Constantine. “I still say we don’t know for sure that the Watcher exists. Where would it come from anyway?”

Jay stared at him.

“Don’t you know? I thought that was common knowledge.”

Marion gave a sigh of realization. “So that’s why they put you in here.”

Jay was now speaking.

“It’s common knowledge on any of the space stations.”

“Yes?”

Jay came out of her apparent trance and looked at Constantine.

“Did you know that we are constantly sca

“I know what you’re looking for,” said Marion. “Alien VNMs.”

“That’s right,” Jay said. “If we can build self-replicating machines, then why not other races? What better way to exploit the galaxy? There we are, a station built of metal and plastic; we must stand out like a small star to any VNMs hunting for raw material. We were built that way deliberately, if you ask me. The edge of human space is littered with space stations, all loaded with excess gold and uranium and anything else that might just appeal to the appetite of any hungry self-replicating machine that happens by.”