Spin State - Chris Moriarty [182]
“What do you mean?” Li asked, as the oddness of what Cohen had said about Alba struck her. “What do you mean you thought we’d had it? You can’t . . . you have backups, don’t you?”
“In theory.”
“But I thought—”
“Of course I have backups. But so far, only four full sentients have actually had their critical systems go down. None of the backups worked for any of them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Li asked, cringing at the self-justifying edge in her voice. “Why didn’t I know about it? I’ve never heard of an AI dying.”
“It’s not dying exactly. They just . . . they’re not themselves anymore. There’s no there there. If that makes any sense.”
“I would never have asked for your help if I’d known that.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t know, isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing good about it, Cohen.”
He twitched impatiently. “Don’t waste my time wallowing in guilt because I’m doing what I want to do. It’s beneath you.”
He’d left the pack of cigarettes lying on the grating between them, and Li pulled out a second one, lit it, and took a shaky drag. “What about the mine?” she asked, knowing already what the answer would be. “What happens when we have to get you into the glory hole?”
“Same thing. I download the criticals and anything else we can store off-line. That’s what Ramirez is setting up.”
“Sweet Mary,” Li said. “I know what you told Korchow but . . . you’re not really going to download everything onto some home-brewed Freetown system, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“What the hell for? Why trust them? How do you know they won’t . . .” She couldn’t finish the thought.
“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes locked on her face. “But I’m the only one who can give them what they’re looking for. And as long as that’s the case, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to trust them. Besides.” He smiled. “I like their plans. They’re ambitious and idealistic.”
“They’re crazy!”
“That’s not so obvious,” Cohen said, his voice as level as if he weren’t talking about the people who were going to hold his life in their hands a few days from now. “There’s no arguing with the fact that someone or something has taken over the field AI. And Cartwright’s convinced me that he has, if not total control, at least significant influence over whoever or whatever it is.”
“What if it’s the Consortium controlling the field AI, Cohen? They won’t cut you any slack, you’ve told me as much.”
“It’s not them,” Cohen said. He sounded bemused, dreamy. “I felt it when Cartwright was showing me what he’s done. It’s . . . I don’t know what it is. But I want to know.” He shook off whatever daydream had caught him. “Besides, Leo’s bunch is doing good work. They’re building their network to last. And to work in the mine, too. I’ve never seen so much sheathing go into one system.”
“How much sheathing they’re using isn’t the point—”
“No, it’s not. The point is what I was trying to tell you before your little crisis of conscience. When you were out there and I didn’t think we were going to get to you in time, I realized I might wake up in a few days and not know anything about what had happened except that we left for Alba together . . . and you never came back. And I’ll tell you, Catherine, though God knows I ought to know better by now than to even think about telling you such things, it made me not want to wake up.”
She didn’t answer.
“I can’t go back to before you,” he said. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. But I can’t stand on the threshold waiting for you to make up your mind either. Not forever. I know that’s not what you want me to tell you, but it’s true. You’re breaking my heart. Or whatever you want to call it.” He looked away, and when he spoke again he sounded almost embarrassed. “And I think you’re throwing away something you shouldn’t.”
Li’s face felt cold, her hands and feet numb, as if all the blood had been drained from her body. The rain was falling harder now, pooling at the edges of the geodesic panels and sheeting down the dome’s curve like tears. She watched it fall and