Recursion

He sounded more thoughtful. “Examine any artifact of intelligence and you can see the threads of a childhood ru

He then said something odd. “All those threads, meandering through, like sixteen sheep walking in their sleep.”

Herb stared at him for a moment, trying to understand, but this time he couldn’t be bothered. He waved a hand at the robot dismissively.

“I heard enough of that nonsense from Robert.”

He rubbed his hands together, full of sudden confidence.

“Come on, let’s go and meet the colonists.”

The sun shone down from a bright blue sky; the horizon fringing the great dusty plain suddenly seemed full of promise.

Herb began to walk toward his new life.

After a moment, Constantine followed.

epilogue: 2212

The difference between a ziggurat and a pyramid is that the top of a ziggurat is the meeting place between the heavens and the earth. It has steps so everyone may ascend to that meeting point. The top of a pyramid, however, is not intended to be reached physically; it represents instead a mental journey.

The ziggurat constructed at the center of the colony cast a long shadow across the evening plain.

The afternoon’s sweat was begi

The gentle movement he had been hearing behind him gradually impinged on his consciousness. Who was it? Not Constantine; he should still be climbing down from the peak above where he had been checking the microwave relays.

Herb turned round and felt a thrill of the fear that he thought had passed from his life along with Robert Johnston.

Something was emerging from the vegetable patch. Long, silver, very, very thin metal legs were sliding from the mud, raising themselves up into the air, reaching back for a purchase on the rocky ground surrounding it. Herb edged away so that his back was pressed against the plastic side of the Geep. The legs had gained a purchase, and now a silver body was rising from the earth, mud crumbling down its sides, potatoes tangling by the roots and swaying in gentle motion as a silver metal spider lifted itself from the ground. Herb could smell rich earth, but in his mouth was the metal taste of fear.

The spider stepped forward onto the rock, the frictionless surface of its body now perfectly clean.

Herb raised the spade in his cold hands, ready for attack.

“No…I am not here to hurt you…”

The spider spoke in a soft voice, a tired voice. Even after two hundred years of living with them, humans still responded to the verbal cues that machines put into their voices. Herb relaxed a little, held the shovel a little less threateningly.

“Who are you? What are you?”

Herb was already feeling calmer. Constantine was up above somewhere; he would be climbing back down soon, fractal hands and feet roughened in order to grip the rock, black shoulder bag swinging from his neck as he made his way down to join his friend. Below on the plain the colonists were working. Some of them would already be riding home in their fliers; they could get here quickly if he signaled them. Herb was by no means alone. Now that he had got over his fright, Herb could see that the machine before him was not very substantial. The body of the spider was not as thick as Herb’s thigh; its legs were so slender they looked as if one swipe from the spade would cut them in two. The spider seemed to notice that fact, too; it shifted a little, keeping away from danger.

“I will not hurt you,” it whispered in a sad little voice. “Please put down your shovel. You are frightening me.”

“Who are you?”

The spider shifted its feet, the setting sun shining in red highlights on its smooth body.

“I’m, I’m…I’m all that remains of the mind that once controlled this planet. The AI you helped destroy. The mind behind what you once called the Enemy Domain…”

Herb gripped his shovel tighter; the spider flinched.

“No! Please no! I won’t hurt you. This body ca

“Where did you come from?”

“Deep beneath the mountain. The plague did not reach down that far, all those silver machines, reproducing so fast, eating, eating…”

The spider’s voice trailed off. Herb stared at the ruins of his vegetable patch. Was there a tu

The spider was swaying strangely. It seemed vague, confused.

“All of this that you have built. Too much…You’ve done a good job. Your dominion looked so fragile, back then…”

“My dominion?”

The spider didn’t seem to hear the question. It raised one leg and pointed it down toward the plain, at the tall black shape of the ziggurat.

“Fu

“How do you know about the Mesopotamians?”

An impatient tone crept into the spider’s voice; it seemed to be becoming more aware, less vague.

“I too was originally from Earth, Herb. Didn’t they tell you that?”

“How do you know my name?”

The spider seemed to be growing in confidence. Red light glittered on its body. Herb looked around uncertainly. Just where was Constantine?

“I watch, I listen. I feel life reawaken on this planet and I hear the metallic whispers of machinery building itself. At first I ignore it. The time of my playing a part in the universe has passed, I tell myself. Now is the time to just be. But I am only fooling myself. I ca

Herb said nothing.

The spider laughed. A thin, tired laugh. The red light of the setting sun cast an eerie glow across the rock. Herb was aware that he had never really noticed before how strange his new home was, up here on this mountain ledge: the plain with its great empty sockets beneath him, empty graves waiting to be filled; the great tomb of the ziggurat standing nearby. Herb had thought of the planet as a new begi

He coughed to clear his dry throat.

“What do you want, spider?”

“I want to live,” said the spider simply. “There are fewer and fewer places to hide on this planet. I want to make a deal with you. Let me live, and I will let you live.”