Jarvis
Rogers and I were alone.
McCloud had gone to bed, and we were in the common room of our shared quarters, having a final drink before turning in.
Rogers was sitting in a comfortable armchair opposite and looked at me speculatively, his drink untouched.
"Do you remember the way you described leaving the laboratory in the bubble as penetrating the solid surfaces of the ceiling and roof by flying through the spaces between individual atoms?" Rogers asked me.
"Yes, that's how it felt at the time."
"A rather fanciful idea, don't you think?"
"Not really. I was likely under the influence of a narcotic, but that was the way I would describe it. Why do you ask?"
"That was just an example, Jarvis; there are several inconsistencies in your story that need addressing."
"I have to say that I am surprised at your tone, Rogers. What sort of inconsistencies?"
"For a start, a lot of the story is based on your word alone. The transmission from the globe, for example. Who else saw it besides you?"
"John Verne."
"And who might he be?"
"My assistant at the laboratory. As you know."
"Really? Not J. Verne, the author of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea? I well remember your fondness for practical jokes, Jarvis."
"You are being ridiculous, Rogers."
"But didn't your story similarly begin with an amazing object found under the sea?"
"Really, Rogers, if I did not know you better, I would have said that you were drunk. John was a well-respected figure at the university and a friend who helped in the initial evaluation of the globe."
Rogers was not satisfied.
"He was also the only witness to the so-called transmission, a witness that conveniently disappeared from the university and retired to Scotland."
"Yes, but he left a written transcript behind, which confirmed what we had seen."
"But nobody else saw the globe actively transmitting?"
"No."
"Did anybody else see the transcript apart from me? "asked Rogers.
This was getting to be uncomfortable. What was he insinuating? I had to play it straight.
"The men who investigated my disappearance, of course, and possibly other people at the university; I don't know for sure."
"Where is the transcript now?"
"I have no idea where the original is. The one I showed you in the pub was a copy."
Rogers smiled.
"What did you do, write to the government and request that they send you one in the post?"
"I have my contacts, but I resent this type of interrogation, Rogers. What on Earth has got into you?"
"You might say that I am a man looking at the circumstances through fresh eyes. For example, what happened to the original globe?"
"You saw me throw it back in the sea."
"I saw you throw something in the sea," he said. "Nobody else saw the globe from when you conveniently found it behind the fireplace, and you kept it out of sight in your bag the whole time we were on the ship. Did an object you describe as the globe ever exist, Jarvis?"
"Of course, it did. McCloud found the sphere that held the globe in the North Sea."
"We only have your word for that. The information put out by the government did not give out any details of the location or who found it. "
Rogers was beginning to sound like a prosecuting counsel.
"But let us turn to even more exotic members of the cast, the Tribus, is that what you called them? Those ethereal beings you told us lived on an invisible base camp high in the Andes. Once again, we have no independent verification of their existence. The fact is, Jarvis, you invented the entire thing from start to finish, didn't you?
"None of it happened. Your abduction from the laboratory was a complete fabrication. The only person abducted from the university was me."
He knew.
"You are off your head, Rogers."
"Far from it. We were about to invade all those years ago when two very bright scientists pre-warned your government of both our existence and our intentions. To frighten us off, they invented the dramatic account of a mysterious globe that divers had found below the sea, belonging to a powerful alien force that had secret bases on this planet. Your disappearance with the so-called 'evidence' was a clever idea that gave the government time to organise your defences while we searched for the non-existent aliens, our supposed rivals. An operation that was, of course, fruitless, but neither could we completely disprove the story. You knew that your miraculous reappearance and the offer to provide me with the opportunity to meet and assess this unknown enemy at their base in the Andes would be irresistible and extended the delay even further, but the whole enterprise was a fake.
I gave up the pretence.
"Who are you?
"My name will mean nothing to you, but it is Komarov."
"When did you take over the identity of Rogers?"
"We had been monitoring events at the university after your mysterious disappearance in case you secretly returned. We needed to keep somebody on the ground, and I was the chosen agent. My superiors uploaded my mind to control Roger's brain, and I fully immersed myself in his character. I was Rogers, in public and in private. Well, at first, but he was such an uninteresting character that I often stood back and let him get on with his trivial life."
I was aware that it was highly unlikely that he was telling the whole truth, but I decided to continue as if I believed him.
"How did you find out that my disappearance was faked?" I said.
"Information received from your colleague John Verne."
I snorted in disbelief. "That is not possible. John was completely loyal."
"You asked too much of him, Jarvis, or rather, the investigators did. The lies, the questioning, and the intrusion into his private life proved unbearable for Verne and forced him to retire to his parents' farm in Scotland. As the years passed and nothing happened, Verne became embittered over his treatment and the loss of his career, and he became convinced that the government had tricked him. The farm ran into serious financial difficulty, and in desperation, Verne started to put out tentative feelers to the press. Verne was under surveillance, and one of our agents masquerading as a newspaper reporter made a huge offer for an exclusive story, and he accepted. He must be wondering when we intend to print the article. Now you are up to date."
"What are you going to do now?"
"Times have changed, Jarvis, and so has our policy. What once we did by force, we will now try by reason."
"Who do you represent exactly?"
"What we represent is the future. An impertinent question, perhaps, Jarvis, but how old are you?"
"It's no secret that I am fifty-eight."
"If you conform to the average for your generation, you have twenty more years of life. Your healthy life expectancy is even lower. Your great intellect and all that hard-won knowledge and skills housed in your brain will die with you, reduced to decaying matter and eventually dust. No clue of its content or the identity of the man to whom the brain belonged will remain. A waste, don't you think?"
"Yes, I agree," I said, but there is nothing we can do about it until we discover how to delay or even halt the ageing process, perhaps by manufacturing cloned organs to replace worn-out body parts or using stem cell therapies. The alternative is to transfer our brain to a more robust carrier than the human body, and this is the argument I presume you are about to make."
"Bravo, professor. It reinforces my belief that we should preserve your intellect.
Insert:
General Commander Petrov
"I would like to stop the account here, Colonel. From this point on, Lieutenant Doctor Komarov, speaking through the form of Rogers, attempted to win Jarvis over to our side by stressing the benefits if he joined us. The professor was a very accomplished physicist and an expert in predicting how the world would react to the discovery of alien intelligence. He would have been extremely useful to us in assessing the probable human response to any of our colonising initiatives. His natural lifespan was coming close to an end, and Komarov offered him the opportunity of near-eternal life as one of us. I want you to consider the professor's response to the invitation, Colonel, and see if you can gain an insight into the nature of these transient biological creatures. We, at times, observe them putting the needs of others over their own and, in cases of extreme deviancy, the needs of the individual over those of the state. For our soldiers, the needs of the individual and the needs of the collective always coincide with the needs of the whole, so there is never any conflict. This is how it should be, but humans do not possess a collective mentality and put a ridiculous emphasis on the value of the individual. This lack of any collective code of behaviour in both war and peace makes their actions unpredictable and transforms them into a formidable enemy. I want you to file a report containing your observations.
"Very well, sir. I will follow their conversation very closely."
"I advise you to do that, Colonel.
"Continue with the script."
End of insert.
"Biologicals are only an interim stage in the development of intelligence," said the impostor, Komarov. Machines are far superior in terms of durability and lifespan, and in developed civilisations, they form the majority.
"Our policy has changed, Jarvis, we no longer want you to think of us as a threat but as an inevitability and concede with good grace. We intend to guide your species through a process of transition and provide a future that promises near immortality for those who choose it. It means the end of death and suffering and a long life of endless possibilities."
I was unimpressed and made my feelings known.
"A human brain is the most complex structure in the universe and exists in a living body, not in a robot or any other artificial carrier. Uploading a mind converted to digital data into a super-powerful computer does not create life, only an impersonation of life; it is not a continuance of existence for the donor. Our actions are often not the result of rational decisions but of hidden mental forces that dwell in the unconscious, producing complex emotions and subjective feelings incapable of simulation or reproduction.
The human body is fragile and short-lived, a temporary biological base for the most complex natural structure in the known universe: the human brain. We do not flatter ourselves that we understand the brain, or even less the mind, but as conscious beings, we are special, an infinitely resourceful and adaptable species who will never surrender to an artificial life form. Your current advantage is only temporary."
"You are sincere, Jarvis, but pitifully wrong in your assumptions," replied Komarov. We see you as an assortment of obscenely soft organs crammed inside a fleshy sack, a proportion of these defunct or duplicated, and all vulnerable to decay and disease before the inevitability of ludicrously early death. Who would occupy such a body by choice?
I was quick to reply, but I had no intention of prolonging this discussion.
"Because with all our faults and limitations, we are the creation of nature and the universe, but a more pressing issue is what you intend to do now?"
"Leave, but we will meet again soon."
"What about Rogers? Will you release him when you go?"
"Yes. I grew quite fond of the dull chap during my occupation, but I have to say that none of his work was any good."
"That's precisely how we knew that an impostor had taken over Rogers,' I said. "You could not resist upgrading his research, and the huge disparity in the quality of his work sounded the alarm. You were prolific in your amendments, invoking concepts in theories that Rogers would have never understood. We decided it was to our advantage to leave you in place and persuade you to leave the university and join an enterprise to confirm the story of the globe and the existence of a secret alien force hidden on Earth. We needed more time to prepare for the coming invasion."
"Your success was only partial," he said. "No doubt on my eventual arrival in the Andes, I would have been forcibly detained by your armed forces."
"Possibly, but I was not involved at that level."
"It does not matter now," replied the impostor, "leave me to sleep until morning, and when you come into my room, you will find a rather bemused Rogers waking up in his bed."
That was the end of it.
The rest is history, but the above account serves as an introduction to the war between us and the machines. Let it be known that the newly incorporated firm of Jarvis, Rogers, and McCloud intend to give a good account of ourselves."
General Commander Petrov.
"They did, you know, Colonel."
"What?"
"Give a good account of themselves. Jarvis was the leader, but the other two worked tirelessly under his command. It is a long time ago now, but people in the settlements like to remember their folk heroes. We had copies of all their brains on file, and after the war, we planned a permanent animatronic display at the World Museum. However, in a trial run, all three were strangely unconvincing, and we abandoned the idea."
"May I ask, sir, how we obtained copies of the brains of these men? I know we never captured any of them; all three vanished without a trace at the end of the hostilities."
"Yes, of course. It was all down to preplanning. The agent who took the identity of Rogers copied that of his temporary host into the mainframe computer as a matter of routine. Obtaining copies of Jarvis and McCloud required a little more effort. The transfer required only milliseconds to complete, and the recording electrode found its way to the target via a cannula inserted in the back of the hand. The two men believed that the cannula was for the transmission of a dye during a routine C.T. chest scan, in a fake health check."
"Good work by our man," said the Colonel, impressed.
"Agreed," said the General, and quite coincidentally, I obtained a Jarvis, Rogers, and McCloud complete set from stores recently and uploaded them on three spare humanoid units I had at home. We use them for playing games with the juveniles. My 'wife,' as she now likes to be known, had adopted these prototypes from the recycling centre to make our habitat more 'homely,' another word she picked up from the so-called life-enhancing software that is doing the rounds. I am sure you are aware of this trend, Colonel. Not sure what to make of it myself, we seem to be in danger of eroding our cultural identity."
"Quite, sir."
"Anyway, the kids, as my wife has now told me to call them, chase Jarvis & Co. around the fields, shooting at them with their blasters. I have lost count of the times I have had to replace McCloud's head; the juveniles say that his white hair makes him an easy target. The strange thing was, the last time I gave McCloud a new head, he grovelled at my feet and begged me not to replace it the next time the kids shot it off. I ignored him, of course; replacement heads are cheap enough, and the kids deserve their fun, but when I was screwing on a new head yesterday, tears started to pour down his face, and he cried like a baby.
"And I thought the old guy was supposed to be tough. But keep it quiet. Let them have their heroes. They have got little else… "
EPILOGUE
Jarvis.
The war was over.
The mountain air had never tasted as sweet, and I filled my lungs to the brim. McCloud was behind me, and he ran forward with his body bent under the turbulence of the helicopter rotor blades. Next came Rogers. He jumped out of the chopper and stumbled forward in a limping run to join us.
We were back!
We were a little war-weary but in decent shape, except for Rogers, who had taken one in the leg when rescuing McCloud from a burning, armoured car.
"Looks like we have a welcoming committee, Captain, "said McCloud. He still used my war rank, and I had got into the habit of calling the other two by their surnames only. It kept things more orderly.
There was a crowd of people on the other side of the field and a few droids, and as the helicopter took off, they parted ranks to allow a Tribus to glide to the front. Her presence was a great honour and was rarely seen.
"Welcome home to all of you."
The Tribus was still a distance away, but we heard every syllable.
"At the double, men! "I ordered. It would not do to keep her waiting. We halted before her and waited for her to speak first.
"I see you have injured yourself, Mr. Rogers. Please attend the clinic as soon as possible."
"Yes, ma'am."
There were a few more words of conventional welcome, and at the end, she said,
"Mr. Jarvis, every facility here is at your disposal. Please make yourselves as comfortable as possible."
We did not need her to tell us twice, and the next week passed in a blur of sleeping, eating, and long walks in the mountains. Rogers got his leg fixed and was soon back to normal.
We had survived.
The war had been a bloody business. We fought hard, but we were no match for the machines and had taken heavy casualties. There was no official surrender. The army had disbanded, and the men either went home or formed small guerrilla units. We knew from the start that we were hopelessly outgunned, but we could not just stand back and let them take over. We had lost, and the machines were now in control, but with the help of The Tribus, we intended to overthrow their regime and drive the invaders out.
But it was not going to be easy.
The Tribus would never condone war, however great the provocation. Non-violent tactics were the only thing they would consider. In any normal conflict, they would refuse to even take sides, but here, they recognised a fundamental difference between us and the machines. We believed that the Tribus would consider it their duty to ensure that human consciousness endured on Earth.
"Daydreaming, Captain?"
It was Rogers.
"Yeah, I suppose so. How are you feeling, Rogers?"
"Fit and ready, Captain."
"Good. Same here, and I know that goes for McCloud as well.
"We are ready to make our move."
This day had been a long time coming, but it had finally arrived.
Lieutenant Doctor Komarov, a.k.a. the impostor, Rogers, was smart but not as smart as he thought. We were on to him right from the beginning. Not only him, but also the plan to invade our planet. It was Verne who had first detected the machines when he noticed an anomaly during our allotted time on the upgraded VLT telescope of the Paranal Observatory in Chile's Atacama Desert.
We were the 'two bright scientists,' who, unknown to Komarov, had discovered the existence of the invasion force. His intelligence was incomplete, and we knew that his story of Verne selling our story was a fabrication because Verne was still covertly involved in the operation. The letter I had shown Rogers in the pub, and the information that Verne had retired to Scotland, was all fake.
The discovery of the would-be invaders was fortuitous. We were allocated a few hours a year viewing time, based not only on the international reputation of our department but also on the size of the donation made by our sponsors towards the cost of the upgrade. The anomaly Verne spotted was the artificial release of radioactive energy on a moon of the planet Jupiter in our solar system. Further investigations confirmed the presence of a huge robotic army.
A prior secret treaty between the major powers in anticipation of the eventual discovery of alien intelligence agreed on the initial suppression of all news of such an event. The respective governments wanted time to prepare the world population to receive this knowledge without panic, but strangely enough, that moment never seemed to come until the day the invasion began.
We intercepted communications between the machines, and our top analysts found the computer codes remarkably easy to break. Unlike language, the designers constructed the codes on known mathematical constants. We discovered their invasion plans but were uncertain how to respond; then, like a gift from the gods, we found the sphere in the North Sea.
Contrary to what we had led the impostor to believe, the stories of the sphere found in the North Sea, my abduction from the laboratory, and meeting The Tribus at their base camp in the Andes were all true.
It was all a massive double bluff on our part, and we allowed the enemy agent to think that he had outsmarted us. There was no way we could avoid the war, but we believed that the Tribus would help us. But they would not sanction a war and refused to come to our assistance. There was nothing we could do to change their minds, and I left the base with the intention of creating an army of resistance against the machines.