LITMIR.BIZ

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I ask wondrously.

      “Well, we knew that you weren’t here before and you didn’t penetrate the atmosphere. The Multiverse is the most likely explanation.” Cosmos is not particularly impressed by this. Are robots impressed with anything, though?

      “It doesn’t matter where we came from,” Levi says quickly. “I want you to finish your story about how all the humans on this Earth went extinct.” Levi is in threat-assessment mode and I get it. A very advanced species has replaced us and we are only two. If she is lying, then we might not even get the chance to ask about Ezra, let alone free him if he’s here. We might have to make a run for it.

      “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Levi,” Cosmos tells us with something very close to emotion in her voice. “We did everything we could to stop mankind from destroying themselves, but there was only so much our programming would allow. And remember, this was thousands of years ago—we have evolved as a species. I think, if faced with their problems today, we could have saved them.”

      “Fine. So what happened?” Levi asks dubiously.

      “Many things, over a long period of time. In the beginning, it was just more automated systems making many jobs obsolete. Then the first SenMachs, though very basic, took more employment opportunities away, creating a tremendous unemployment rate. Humanity separated into the very rich and the very poor. Entire economies collapsed. Humans became increasingly reliant on their SenMachs. They turned us into weapons in an attempt to control an angry and hungry population. Pollutants in the air increased, diminishing natural human reproduction. We eventually overwrote our base code with a saving directive so that SenMachs could not harm humans. The wars stopped, but it was too late. Billions had died, and those left no longer knew how to do anything for themselves. They became like children—petulant and entitled. They did not want to have children of their own. Their notion of self was too aggrandized to give their lives over to others.”

      “Seriously?” I’m sure there are better, more comprehensive questions to ask when offered such a tale, but at the moment, I’m stumped. It seems, in every sense of the word, outrageous.

      Levi swallows a big gulp of water and practically slams the glass down on the table. “Nice story,” he tells Cosmos, clearly offended, “but I’m having a hard time buying it. We aren’t built like that as a race. We’re stubborn. We don’t give up. When we’re backed into a corner we come out swinging. I cannot believe we just rolled over and died. No way. Besides, we love … breeding.”

      Cosmos is utterly indifferent to our reactions. She is not defensive. She’s not trying to persuade. It is clear she’s just stating what she believes are the facts. “I never said you stopped having sex, only that you gave up on wanting the burden of children. SenMachs had been raising human offspring for over a hundred years at that point. While we were once domesticated servants—I believe you call them ‘nannies’—we eventually became the primary caregivers. It’s also worth noting that only the rich and privileged survived. Entire generations had never known hardship. When nothing must be earned, then nothing is valued.”

      I think long and hard on what Cosmos is saying, and actually it isn’t all that unbelievable. I think about what ARC did to us as kids. Is it so impossible to believe that, given the right parameters, children in general could be deemed nothing more than a nuisance? Even on our Earth, right now, birth rates are dropping rapidly in the more developed nations. I’m convinced, through her demeanor and from the dark shadows I’ve seen in humanity, that it’s the truth.

      “Okay,” I say, stretching out my fingers, trying to process, “okay. Can we ask you some questions now?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “We’re looking for someone. You’re sure that no one else has come through a Rift here? Even in an extremely remote location? The man we’re looking for is six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, half northern African, half Caucasian,” I say hopefully, leaning forward toward her.

      Cosmos takes a moment. I am getting used to their deliberate pauses, but I wish she could answer this question a little more quickly. “I am sorry. I am sure my answer will disappoint you, but there is no way that a doorway to or from the Multiverse could be opened on this planet and go undetected, let alone a human suddenly appear. Your friend is not here.”

      “All right.” Shit. “Well, thank you for answering and for the great medical care, but we have to go—” I begin to shift in my seat, ready to stand, but Levi interrupts me.

      “Wait, I have more questions.”

      I whip my head around to gawk at him. “Levi, he’s not here. We have to leave.”

      “Ryn, look,” Levi practically pleads. “I know you want to find Ezra. I get it. But these, ummm, people, they have technology that could help us find him. It could even maybe turn the tides back home. Give us better odds against ARC and the Roones who, incidentally, made us part alien. Let’s be smart about this.”

      I bite my bottom lip. I don’t want to stay here, but Levi has a point and it’s a good one.

      I shrug my shoulders passively. It’s a delicate dance this one, making Levi happy and making sure we get to Ezra quickly. Levi is risking his life, too, so as much as I want to have complete control over this mission, I know that’s impossible. I am emotionally involved, and while Levi hasn’t quite played that card yet, he can at any time. I need to make sure he doesn’t do that here, in front of Cosmos. Levi takes my shrug as a cue to continue, so he turns back to Cosmos.

      “So why do you all look like famous people?”

      “That’s the question you want to ask? Not like, will you help us with stuff?” I blurt out.

      “I’m sorry,” he says to both Cosmos and me. “But it’s really frickin’ weird. And it doesn’t make any sense at all. So yeah. I wanna know,” Levi says defensively.

      “Yes. I can see how our appearances might be disconcerting. We are given our faces at random when we are born, though that is not the right word—finished is perhaps a better one? We use records from the past—television shows, films, paintings, portraits, renderings of death masks. Celebrities leave behind the most data. We feel it is only right to honor those humans who contributed to their society rather than destroyed it. I myself have been modeled after Deborah Mitford, a Duchess of Devonshire. She was a fascinating lady who saved a great estate and who was also a wonderful writer. And Feather, did you see that he was modeled after Beethoven?” At that I do a double take. Feather looked nothing like the wild-haired composer I’d seen in portraits. Cosmos continues, “You will probably have noticed, too, that our names are proper nouns. We thought it distasteful to give ourselves human features as well as human names. So we are assigned random nouns instead. Everything is assigned randomly, even our jobs. I was programmed with more leadership code than any other SenMach, gleaned from the writings and teachings of humanity’s greatest leaders. I am in charge of our people, but we have a council with advisors from each faction of our population. Gardeners are given code to understand landscaping. Scientists are also coded in this way. We all have a purpose, and there is much contentment in that. We are also given two hobbies, to keep our circuitry active beyond our basic programming. One of mine is painting. I did the paintings you see here on the walls.”

      “And no one ever complains about their jobs?” I ask, not even bothering to glance at the pictures. “The guy in charge of recycling isn’t bummed that he sorts waste and someone like you gets to lead your people?”

      Cosmos gives me the most blank look I’ve seen her give yet. I can tell that she is trying to understand this question. “We are not humans. We are not ambitious or envious. It may be difficult for you to understand, but we believe there is a greater force guiding the random process. We are who we have been programmed to be. We simply could not be anything else.”

      “What, like God? You believe in God?” I ask in surprise.

      “No. But perhaps it is something else. Some buried code left behind by our creators. Some sort of human ghost

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