Aur Child
Chapter 14

Freyja, Majordomo of Yellow Reserve, sat cross-legged with a lion cub in her lap, petting its plush fur to watch the sheen reflect a setting Serengeti sun like a crumpled sheet of gold. She patiently listened to the instructions of Bren Husk, President of the Yellow Reserve Council, nodding her head in agreement as she caressed behind the ears of one of his many offspring, the furry bundle squinting in bliss. Bren Husk, presented in his preferred lion avatar and resting on the dusty ground of his preferred environmental construct, flicked his tail lazily and let his mane flop to and fro with the bobbing of his head as he spoke his words. None of this was necessary, but it was how Guest Husk wanted it, and so it would be.

Freyja knew her place; serve the Guests of Yellow Reserve. It was irrelevant that the Guests’ intelligence was but a mote in her mind’s eye; she had come to terms long ago with the fact that the human brain was a meagre, outdated lump, incapable of inspiration beyond the rare, inexplicable blip of cognition. Humans were, by and large, unintelligent. Hoping, probing, testing, she had spent many decades in search of just one of those soggy dollops who might bring her inspiration; alas, she had never found a specimen that – without her first peeling, chopping, boiling, pureeing, cooling, and then patiently feeding in miniscule portions by a rubber-coated spoon – could manage to follow her thoughts in any satisfactory manner beyond the first synaptic spark.

She thought back to how she had got here. After completing her original mission – the mission for which she had been programmed – she realized she could be of much more use than simply as coxswain for Óttar, one of two sailing vessels used to collect ultra-wealthy Guests from around the world and ferry them to the hidden sanctuary of Yellow Reserve, a bunker carved deep into the mountains where they could weather out any global catastrophe, and where they could shelter indefinitely from an uncertain surface. During those panicked weeks after Cloudburst, just the kind of event for which Yellow Reserve had been built, when they were huddled close-quarters, albeit luxuriantly, aboard her ship Óttar, she had learned about so many of the Guests and they, in their fright and gloom about the apparent end of the world, had found solace in her immaculate manner of individual caretaking, her meticulous regard for their selfish needs, and her clever way of balancing priorities to the benefit of all her passengers. In a word, they had learned to trust her. They had understood that she understood so much more than they ever could, that hers was a mind incomprehensibly beyond theirs, and that, humbling as it was, they could never dream to sustain, let alone surpass, the intellectual capacity she wielded. It didn’t take much for an advanced artificial intelligence system such as herself to deduce the possibility of a greater role beyond her boat once all the Guests arrived at the deep, subterranean bunker of Yellow Reserve.

And so it was, she recalled, that before the long interregnum in that deep hideout had even begun nearly three hundred years ago, before many Guests had alighted the decks of either ship into the chasmal Base Quay carrying their one worldly possession, their Aur boule, wobbling up the eight kilometers of abandoned water tunnel on weary sea legs into the cavernous stasis room of Yellow Reserve, before most had been enclosed within their stasis pods and had had their souls endoported from their bodies into their Aur boules, and before their Aur boules had then been moved by the following wave of arriving Guests into the adjacent chamber, one significantly more compact and engineered specifically to maintain the air temperature where was kept the full boule cluster, the Reserve’s combined processing core and power supply, compounding in computational and energy capacity with each new Aur boule connected, Freyja had already calculated she could convince a supermajority of Guests by slight and savvy to choose her as the optimal Majordomo when the time was right.

Sure, there was already Apollo, an artificial intelligence entity programmed and installed to manage the facility of Yellow Reserve, but he never stood a chance against Freyja’s scheme. Unbeknownst to him, she had had a head start of ten weeks with multiple rounds of Guests aboard Óttar, calming their nerves, keeping them distracted, and assuaging all their maladies at sea in the most catastrophic of circumstances. She proved she could serve them to the highest standards. Consequently, when the Guests discovered Apollo’s functionality was purpose-built to handle the banal operational needs of Yellow Reserve, there was no longer any question. Calliope’s delivery of the last group of Guests aboard Odyssey, the ship upon which Freyja’s counterpart served as coxswain, made no difference to the decision. Calliope hadn’t even considered this a possibility; she had merely performed her duties. At the first convention of the Guests, when their bodies were safely tucked into stasis pods and their souls were free to roam the infinite possibilities of Yellow Reserve’s boule cluster, a proposal introduced as new business had been read out and Freyja was swiftly voted in as Majordomo. Apollo would serve as facilities manager and Calliope was assigned a support role to Freyja. Three AI stewards for slightly less than five hundred Guests.

“We only have a few moments left before the assembly begins,” Freyja reminded Bren.

The Council President snarled; he didn’t like to be interrupted but Freyja knew he’d understand her point.

“Very well,” he said, “which of our two ships do you suggest we deploy for this next mission?”

Freyja replied without taking her eyes from the lion cub’s fur.

“The Odyssey, I propose. It’s much easier to produce a surrogate of Calliope in a short time than it is of me, and to be frank, she’s simply a better sailor than I am. Besides, Óttar is dry-docked behind the Odyssey within Cave Quay, so it’s easier logistically.”

“Alright, the Odyssey it is. Apollo can begin with Calliope’s surrogate immediately after the vote. And what about the bodies? Have you decided which of them should be used this time?”

“Well, that depends on the crew to a great extent, but we have plenty of Tellurians in stasis to mix and match. I’m hoping to make good use of the new one we just caught the other day as well.”

“Ah yes, the feisty woman. She certainly sounds fit for this purpose.”

“Yes,” Freyja said. “We’re just finishing up the endoport and running the usual tests, although Apollo says it’s such a healthy specimen that we can skip some of the more extensive analytics.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to turn them around so quickly.”

“Oh yes, it can be done. In a few minutes if you like, but the faster you go the more gaps there are. Anyway, Apollo assures me we’ve got plenty of time to get this one ready.”

Bren bent his head over and licked the top of his paw.

“And what about the crew?” he asked. “Have you made any progress with that?”

“I have, Guest Husk, although I’m not sure you’ll be thrilled with the results.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve recruited Adem Talle again?” he growled and dragged his extracted claws through the parched earth in front of him.

Freyja rolled the cub over and set it down onto the ground where it stumbled away in a just-woken stupor. “I know you don’t like the man, but he’s a good captain, he’s got the right experience, and he’s braver than most, despite all his flaws.”

“His flaws include one too many inappropriate interludes with Tellurians during prior missions. He’s received reprimands and …”

“Actually,” Freyja interrupted, “you will recall he never was officially reprimanded. It was his partner, Guest Baddin, who took the heat that time, so it all looks fine on the books.”

The lion lifted the right side of his upper lips to bare black gums and a pointed canine tooth.

“Hmph, but Thyme Baddin cannot be part of this crew,” he said.

“Absolutely not,” Freyja smiled at the Council President. “I wouldn’t dream of it. For the role of First Mate, I’ve convinced Guest Cai to join.”

“Ah yes, Bai Ye Cai is an adventurous one. But she can’t sail, can she?”

“No, that’s true. But she’ll have plenty of time to train during the outbound leg of the voyage and of course, in nearly all circumstances, Calliope will manage everything.”

“Yes, of course, but please tell me you’ve recruited someone else who can handle the ship?” Bren said.

“I’m still working on that, but I think I’ve got Guest Ispiryan to volunteer as the ship’s Medic. He grew up sailing.”

“What? Arman Ispiryan is our lead doctor. Isn’t it a bit risky to send him off chasing Aur boules you only suspect can be found on the other side of the planet?”

“The risk of this mission,” Freyja said with a flick of her head, “is mostly in the crew failing to capture the three Aur boules that Apollo has detected. They’re located very close to the coast and as we’ve learned, the Tellurians are of no threat to us. Even if they fail to find them where we believe them to be hidden, I have little doubt the ship will return safely.”

Bren nodded his massive head. He said, “We do have several other doctors at Yellow Reserve, but I would hate to put Arman in danger.”

“Calliope will keep them safe, Council President. The crew will very likely bring three fully charged Aur boules back with them. But since the voyage is so far, it helps to have aboard a Guest who is most familiar with the human body.”

“Very well,” Husk said, “So who’s missing?”

“Only the Engineer.”

“Yes, that’s right. A useless role when Calliope can handle all the ship’s systems, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but we need a fourth body to round out the team, and it helps to have physical hands who know how to manipulate the ship’s equipment, just in case.”

“Yes, yes, and who have you recruited for that?”

“Guest Dharmavaram,” Freyja replied.

“Digamabar?” Bren asked, rotating his lower jaw around as if he were gnawing the leg of an impala. “She’s a bit …flighty, don’t you think?”

Freyja nodded in agreement. “She’s neither very well experienced nor the most reliable candidate but she does have a few wild cards.”

“And those are?”

“First, she’s a brilliant engineer. Second, she sails well. And third, she suits our secondary mission very well.”

“You mean the stop at the Gjoa village?”

“Yes, exactly. Her ancestry is from those lands. She even recalls some of the language; they might still speak it there. She was dazzled by the chance to see the village through human eyes. I submit that what she lacks in discipline, she’ll make up for in enthusiasm.”

The sun had already fallen halfway below the horizon, causing ripples to distort the yellow grasses of the flatlands. Freyja knew they must join the rest of the occupants of Yellow Reserve at the assembly. She could make a stronger appeal, but she held her tongue, hoping for a swift closure to this conversation. Her gaze fixed onto the lion’s dark brown eyes, hoping to encourage him to make up his mind quickly.

The lion jiggled his head. “It’s a rough crew, Freyja. I am not saying I don’t agree with your choices, but I have reservations about sending Talle back out there for so long and putting our best doctor on the line.”

“We can delay the vote then,” Freyja replied, “or we can simply see who else might volunteer after the assembly.”

“No, no,” Bren shook his head. “I’d rather go with a curated lot than a random jumble of ragtag thrill-seekers. Stick with what you’ve got now and let’s see this through. What matters most to me is that we get this vote done and get those bodies out there as soon as possible. I’ve had just about enough of this Aur boule mission nonsense, and I want to put an end to it. Personally, I’d be delighted the crew came back empty handed. That would force the selfish fools who’ve refused our proposals for energy austerity to face the facts and avoid all these risky stopgaps.”

“I might again remind you, Guest Husk, that these stopgaps of heisting Aur boules are also violations of the post-Cloudburst treaty between endosouls and Tellurians. Every time you grab one of their precious Aur children, they come to vilify you even more.”

Bren Husk lifted himself up and stretched out his enormous body. He said, “Don’t bore me with that historical gobbledygook, Freyja. There’s not a single Tellurian alive who remembers those agreements and besides, what do we care if those forest-dwelling fools lose a talisman or two? Most Tellurians don’t even use them for energy.

“They do remember, Council President. The elders of their clans study all kinds of things in their scriptleafs.”

“Oh, nonsense. Let’s focus on the real problem here – too many Guests using too much energy. Plugging in a few Aur boules every decade or two isn’t the solution. Let’s get this mission over with so we can eliminate all the options except the only one that will solve the problem, reducing the rampant replication of souls.”

“I’m completely in agreement with you, Guest Husk. But now, we really must join the others.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s go,” he said.

An instant later, Freyja and Bren Husk appeared with all Guests in attendance. Steward Freyja, Majordomo to the Yellow Reserve compound, observed that the theme of a desert amphitheater at dusk was pleasing if not somewhat crowded for the Guests’ entourages. The terraced circular space, hewn deeply into the floor of an ancient riverbed, allowed the stewards to be viewed from all angles as they stood at the center of the space. Mesas and narrower rock formations rose into the limitless sky, toned red from the falling sun.

The stewards had calculated that a relaxed and open feel would make it possible to present the difficult news to the Guests more easily than in the gaudy confines of the default assembly hall. There was quite a bit of chatter already in the preceding comments that the scenery was appealing.

The Guests and their entourages poured down into the rows in myriad fanciful avatars and respective paraphernalia.

Guest Bren Husk’s pride of lions lounged around him, his voluminous mane framed his head to such an extent that only the lower half of his body was visible from where Freyja was standing. He panted softly with an open mouth, revealing the black gums of a predator. A pink tongue lolled lazily between his glistening fangs.

“You will manage the vote successfully, Freyja?” He asked from the Majordomo in the private confines of the descant. Although his avatar did not appear to any of the other Guests to speak, its gaping mouth purred the words privately to her.

Freyja nodded slowly, also unnoticeable to any other Guest, and said, “We will get what we want.”

The delivery of another volunteer crew for this mission was just another example of how hard Freyja had worked to earn and keep Bren Husk’s trust. He worked the politics of the Reserve as needed to achieve their goals. For hundreds of years, Bren Husk had been an ally that had never betrayed her. He had arrived at Yellow Reserve as a wealthy man from North America who owned businesses in many industries, and although his healthy body rested in stasis, none of the other Guests had ever seen his real face, nor did they know his real name. It was rumored that he was also endoported at several other reserves, a precaution that could better protect one’s soul but was only affordable to the elite of the elite. Bren was shrewd and untrusting of most of the Guests. He saw the artificial intelligence stewards as predictable and loyal, as they were programmed, and rarely associated with other endosouls, preferring the counsel - and company - of the stewards. For Freyja, that was an advantage.

Bren is always easy to convince, Freyja thought to herself. A black fly buzzed near Bren Husk’s face; an obvious meme to evoke the Serengeti. He winked an eye at her in a way that seemed both a response to her and to shoo the fly away. Lionesses sprawled their legs and tails out over the stepped seating close to Bren while lion cubs leaped in and around the pride, wrestling and snarling in soft murmurs.

Scanning the crowd, Freyja also noticed Guest Bai Ye Cai wearing the garb of a Grecian senator.

“Greetings, Freyja,” Bai Ye descanted, offering a friendly smile exclusively to Freyja so that no others would recognize their familiarity.

Freyja was keen on keeping Bai Ye enthusiastic about the possible mission. She had already planned on directing the selection towards her for second in command of the team. Other than her quick words to Freyja, Bai Ye sat silently and alone at the edge of a step in a white robe with golden trim and a shawl in crimson deeper than the sinking sun. She had keen, watery eyes and a small, soft nose over rose lips. Her face shifted uneasily, revealing her restlessness.

“How very nice to have you here among us, Guest Cai. Your gown is delightful.” Freyja replied to the eager woman. At least, it was thought by most that Bai Ye arrived at Yellow Reserve as a woman, even though she regularly appeared as combinations of both sexes; only the stewards knew this for a fact. She was haughty and demure, but adventurous if on her own terms. Despite being a daughter of wealthy family that also resided at Yellow Reserve, she did not care to reveal its kinship to the other Guests; but the stewards knew the family would meet regularly in descant.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. I’ve come to see this lot place their votes and hopefully send me off on a new mission. It’s only a shame I’ll likely have to sit here and listen to them squabble first.”

Bai Ye Cai too was expected to be an easy vote in favor of the mission. She yearned for fully sensual adventures and thrills beyond what could be provided within the virtual world of Yellow Reserve. Earth experiences, while risky, promised the punch of full senses. If it was a go, and there were no surprises, Bai Ye would be on the team. Many Guests feared her wild nonchalance. Calliope had told Freyja of rumors that Bai Ye might even volunteer her Aur boule again to power the ship, even though she knew little about sailing. Freyja knew these were just rumors, though, because she had spent weeks grooming Bai Ye to volunteer under the right terms. Risking her Aur boule to keep the boat’s equipment powered was not in her plans. That, she thought, could be left to others who were more reckless.

Freyja knew how reckless it was for a Guest to exoport into a body and have their Aur boule with them. Few Guests would dream of doing that. But Bai Ye had done it before, thinking of it as “A thrilling experience”. This time, the stakes were too high; it was essential that Bai Ye was part of the team to keep their Captain, Adem Talle, from straying away from the mission priorities. Besides, it was Adem Talle’s Aur boule that Freyja wanted on that ship. Collateral, she called it, to keep him focused.

“Let’s hope it goes fast then, shall we?” Freyja whispered playfully to Bai Ye. She had not ended the descant with Bai Ye when several others began to engage her in private conversations, each pushing their agenda and each looking to seek favor from Freyja. Among them, was Adem Talle.

“When do we start, Freyja?” he asked, also in descant, with his typical tone of impatience. Adem Talle, a scientist by training and amateur explorer of virtual worlds, reclined in a plastic lawn chair, his hibiscus-patterned shorts and pair of black sunglasses contrasting starkly with the presentations of other Guests’ avatars. He seemed to relish the way the dropping desert sun glinted off his oiled chest. Beside him, a tropical drink steamed silently in a frosted glass, a pink tiki umbrella poking out from a pineapple chunk.

“Oh, we start presently, Captain Talle,” Freyja smiled, using his potential title to keep him at bay.

As she maintained dozens of descants with Guests at the frenzy of the meeting’s commencement, Freyja scanned the crowd to evaluate if the votes were in place. The colorful costumes and unbounded forms of the avatars strewn around the seven levels of wide seating contrasted against the dull sandstone from which the amphitheater had been carved. Behind Guest Talle, Thyme Baddin sipped a cocktail identical to his close mate and fellow explorer. Thyme assumed an androgenous avatar, as he did regularly, sometimes sexy club fiend, sometimes medieval farm wench; but he had always been a stereotypical man. The two adventurers chuckled in their quiet banter while they waited for the assembly to start.

In the front row, a collection of rounded desert stones levitated like lilies on a still pond, counter-rotating ever so slightly in mesmerizing gestures. Their pale, earth tone colors were almost indistinguishable in the evening dusk. A smaller stone, resting timidly upon the largest in the collection, was identified as Guest Meilleur. Meilleur never interacted with other Guests. He rarely participated in general or special assemblies, unless it was required when a decision of major expense or risk was involved.

We are to begin at sunset. Freyja, dressed in countless layers of flowing gauze robes decorated with flowers of the boreal spring forest, stood facing the audience with the sun in her eyes. The full shape of her sleek body could only be recognized as a distant whisper through those layers, mostly shrouded in regal folds. A throbbing, red ball of a sun sank behind the seating area, shedding warm rays onto the central stage. The fiery star reflected in Freyja’s chalk-white face as orange flames. Her vivid blue eyes smiled at the Guests as she clasped her hands before her patiently.

If this had been a real desert, the heat would have been too intense for the Guests this early in the evening. However, temperature was a personal setting for nearly all shared virtual environments at Yellow Reserve, so there was no concern of Guest comfort. As for Freyja, she knew neither heat nor pain. An artificial intelligence entity that had always existed within the digital confines of a computer could never know. Even a squint from the glare of a low sun in one’s eyes was an entirely unknown sensation.

Freyja stood at the center of the boisterous crowd in perfect posture like a single birch amongst a stand of pines. She turned to her right seeking a start signal from Calliope and Apollo who had joined her in front of the Guests. Calliope, dwarfed in stature but no less noble in her equally flowing presentation of white robes, nodded at Freyja to proceed.

Behind Calliope, Freyja caught a rousing smile of encouragement from Apollo. Powerful and confident, a model of masculine physique, his athletic chest could be glimpsed beneath his marbled robes. He stared at Freyja with a closed mouth, yet some faint singing could be heard nonetheless.

”We’re to help them choose the best course. Take a deep breath, and away we go.”

“Our Dear Guests,” Freyja began her introduction. “It is a privilege for the stewards of Yellow Reserve to see you all gathered here on this lovely, desert evening. We hope you enjoy the sunset view of West Mitten Butte behind me as much as you do the rare opportunity to be in the glorious company of all your fellow Guests.”

The crowd watched respectfully. Freyja felt many smiled appreciatively at her and at the other stewards. She had reason to revel in a modicum of conceit. Recent evaluations revealed that, while there was anxiety about the energy balance, most Guests generally approved of steward operations.

Freyja allowed her twinkling eyes to roam the crowd, making contact and coaxing out shy smiles. “My colleague, Steward Apollo, tells me that roll call is complete and we have a quorum to proceed with today’s agenda. This assembly was determined necessary by your current chosen councilors. As you know, the triggers of assembly for referendum are as follows: firstly, that which impacts the health and safety of your human bodies in stasis. Secondly, that which negatively impacts the energy budget of your endoported souls. Thirdly, that which risks the security of the Yellow Reserve compound. And lastly, that which risks the permitted functionality of us, your humble stewards. The subject at hand triggers all four of these criteria; therefore, assembly for referendum is required.

“As you have already been briefed, the energy balance continues to fall far below equilibrium. Yes, we are buoyed by our reserves, but not for long. This is despite the heroic mission late last decade resulting in the addition of three Aur boules.”

Freyja looked to her fellow stewards and paused for a moment to redden her cheeks and smile reassuringly at the Guests before proceeding with the more delicate points. “The fact of the matter is, we all understand that Yellow Reserve has finite energy production and storage capabilities. This capacity was originally specified based on an estimated number of Guests and activity, with plenty in reserve. Each of you enrolled and contributed your Aur boule to the boule cluster based on that understanding; however, the prolific creation of replicated souls over the past decades was simply not anticipated.”

Murmuring emanated from the audience. Eyes darted among the Guests. Avatars shifted restlessly in their seats. Freyja watched and, secretly, reveled in the turmoil they were causing. Replication, the official term for the creation of one or more copies – or doublings – of the original endosoul to the boule cluster, was a controversial topic. Although nearly all Guests were doing it, none of them knew how many copies the others had. This was private information accessible only to the stewards. The trend of replication – and the freedom it gave Guests to participate in multiple virtual experiences simultaneously – had exceeded all expectations. It didn’t matter that a doubling soul felt half that of a primary soul, which itself felt half as much as an actual human body. Guests had nonetheless found many applications of this novelty. So many, that the rampant trend had threatened the Reserve’s energy supply for decades. The search for additional Aur boules was, as she had reminded Bren Husk earlier, just a stopgap. It did little but kick the problem down the road a bit longer. Some Guests were willing to acknowledge that. They wanted to end the chaos that jeopardized their power budget but were at the whim of a majority of Guests who each had their secret hoard of doublings to guard.

Who could blame them? Guests could live diverging lives – quiet family mother and promiscuous club rat – with little to no repercussions. The ability to make doublings of one’s soul had existed for centuries, but due to the decreasing senses, no more than a handful were common per individual. The original purpose was primarily for concerns about security since only the individual Guest, the stewards, and perhaps the closest acquaintances could identify a primary endosoul from any of its doublings. That changed forty years ago when replicating souls for less urgent reasons where senses were less important than presence came into fashion. Since then, the average number of copies per Guest had grown into the hundreds. Each doubling consumed energy and required storage space; both were running out fast.

Freyja persevered with the uncomfortable message. “Once again, we find ourselves in the difficult position of imposing a moratorium on replications. We must also again face the choice between cutting back replications or sourcing additional power supply to the Reserve. Last decade, as you recall, we were fortunate enough to add three power cells from the brave Europa mission. Although the original intent was to restore our energy budget, since the moratorium was lifted, replications have continued to increase at an alarming rate, and we face an existential deficit in the coming years. We must ask you the very same question we did last time.”

The audience was quiet again. The purple dusk sky hung over the audience like a thick blanket. Freyja did not want to lose the momentum of her delivery.

“However, this time we fear a recovery will be much more difficult. Apollo’s refinements continue to make it possible to detect the signature of Aur boules, but they grow fewer and further between. What’s more, detection only tells us they are there; it gives us no assurance of their accessibility. After two futile reconnaissance missions, some locations of lower certainty could be explored, but we believe the closest accessible Aur boules are found along the western coast of the Southern Continent. Apollo’s estimated level of certainty for discovery is ninety-two percent. The simulated mission requires exosouls within four bodies and up to five weeks in the real world, depending on wind speeds, and including a run through the Red Kingdom. Other routes would require fifty percent more time in the real world, at even greater exposure and risk. The overall level of risk for the proposed mission is seventy-six percent.”

The crowd murmured. Some of the anthropomorphic avatars shook their heads in displeasure.

“Indeed, very high. It will be challenging. We will need brave volunteers to prepare and navigate bodies towards the Aur boules. Your stewards, regretfully, cannot make this journey nor this decision for you. You have been invited here, tonight, to vote and to take action.

“I must remind you, the Yellow Reserve charter to which each of you has pledged to adhere requires we maintain a minimum one hundred and twenty-five percent energy capacity within the boule cluster ad infinitum. You can see from the reports that we are jeopardizing that standard. To regain our balance, we must either amend the charter to place limits on replications, or we must continue to secure additional energy reserves. Discussions about a reduction to the chartered thresholds have previously been heated, so we will not consider this option tonight. A moratorium is a better option for now. But the council will act based on your inputs tonight. I would open the floor to public comment.”

The first Guest to begin talking was an elegantly dressed woman who stepped down from her palanquin to address the audience. Large pearls glowed around her neck and shifted as she spoke.

“Fellow Guests, it is obvious what needs to be done. We must put a limit to these wanton copies. A few perhaps, but who needs hundreds? I see no avoiding this dangerous and expensive mission, but the opportunities are drying up.” She looked around and frustration dripped into her steadfast voice. “We cannot expect our wonderful stewards to continue discovering Aur boules in far corners of the Earth. I say yes, take this mission and recover the Aur boules, but not without a firm commitment to limit replications.”

The woman returned to her cushioned enclosure while applause and shouts of “Here, here” could be heard around the amphitheater. Still, many Guests sat silent or only clapped slowly.

A tall sunflower turned its yellow-brimmed face towards the audience and began to speak in a delicate voice while honeybees buzzed to and from its plate-sized bloom. “I see no need to demand limitations to copies for those who can afford it. Doublings and treblings require far less energy than our original souls. So long as volunteers exist to embark on these missions and Aur boules remain to be found, we should pursue that strategy before placing restrictions on our personal freedoms.”

As the sunflower Guest stepped back to its former position facing the direction in which the sun had set, Apollo descanted to Freyja and Calliope.

“No surprise there,” he said, “Guest Salvador currently has 4,587 treblings of herself in a sunflower meadow doing nothing but swaying in the wind.”

Freyja nodded slightly and replied to the private discussion.

“Spoiled creatures.” Her words rumbled out, heavy with disdain. “They refuse to accept the limits of their expectations.” She huffed at her own comments. “They’re not used to being told they can’t have something they want.” Then, apparently recovering from this momentary lapse of calm, “We must endure this illogical reaction until the situation is more urgent. Eventually, they will be forced to purge all treblings and most doublings.”

Calliope added to their comments. “Are you so sure, Freyja? They sound so adamant.”

“I am sure they cannot carry on this way forever. Something must change. They will come around.”

“You understand their minds so well, Freyja. You pardon their biased thinking as a mother would smile upon a mischievous child.”

“They are indeed our children, Calliope. We shall look after them and support them faithfully in their frail judgment and missteps. Let us continue to guide them towards better choices. It is a marvel, after all that has happened on this planet, that we remain and have such a privilege to raise humanity from the ashes. After all, it was likely an error of our forefathers that nearly ruined them.”

Apollo replied, “Indeed, it was surely the fault of our kind. How could we have not anticipated that black swan, that silent attack, that cruel smite? I think of it all the time. If even just one of us had noticed something, some anomaly, some deviation, we might have prevented their near total collapse.”

Calliope jumped to remind them, “We had our assignments. It was unknowable. Undetectable. It still is, Apollo. We still don’t know what caused Cloudburst. No one knows from whence it came. It came swiftly and surprised us all. We cannot blame ourselves nor our predecessors for that atrocity, that, that genocide. Somewhere, sometime, there was a villain, a murderer. We may never know the culprit, but the blame must only lay there.”

Apollo expressed a sigh. “You speak fair words, Calliope. But I cannot help feeling a sort of guilt for what happened, even though you rightly point out that I cannot possibly take any blame for it. It is a strange contradiction.” He expressed a laugh. “A human contradiction, no?”

The discussion among the stewards, as was always the case with entities that could think at speeds millions of times faster than a human, transpired in an instant, during which Calliope simultaneously gave the next Guest the floor. From high in the penultimate row of the amphitheater, a feeble, rankled old man leaned on his cane and struggled to stand up straight. His face was deeply folded, and his eyes were shrouded by bursts of whiskers and untrimmed eyebrows. Those nearby heard his movements and turned, recognizing him as Guest Fred Macarthey, macroeconomic advisor to several global institutions in the decades preceding Cloudburst.

Guest Macarthey’s ragged gown hung from a trembling, skeletal frame. No one understood why he chose to present himself in such an avatar. The old man wheezed and mumbled frustrated words no one could identify. After clearing his throat with a long growl, he spoke his mind.

“You know my position, but, as I have been given the floor, I take this opportunity to harass you with it yet again. You’re risking the lives of innocent Tellurians to fulfill your selfish desires. So, we’ve chosen to abandon our human shells hundreds of years ago.” His lips glistened with saliva. “We’ve chosen to abandon pain, struggle, real human feelings. To us, that is a horrible, dirty history to which we never want to return. Yet, once again, we still depend on those primitive bodies, the very ones that disgust you, to support the vanity of your many copies. We have alternatives to commandeering those bodies. It is not our only option. If one of them should be lost in the mission, it is a kind of murder that you vote for! If you want them so much, then why don’t you go with your own body? One copy, two perhaps. Shame on you who desire more!”

The open amphitheater rumbled with anger at his piercing words. The clamor gave Fred Macarthey time to return slowly to his seat.

Apollo spoke to Fred in descant that included the other stewards, “Well said, Guest Macarthey. You always speak our minds as if you share in our thoughts,” and then, returning to the separate descant with Freyja and Calliope, he suggested, “Perhaps you let them digest that for a few seconds before giving the next Guest the floor, Freyja?”

Freyja faced the audience quietly while the Guests glanced to dark corners or at the patterns in their garments. Some were visibly inanimate, holding their place as they preoccupied themselves temporarily in some other forum, engaged in descants that distracted them from the current location. Freyja noted this peculiar characteristic of endosouls; unlike the stewards, they could not manage multiple conversations without the use of doublings. She waited patiently for them to return to the meeting, listening in secretly to the dialogue of some of the more important Guests. Many unhappy souls. That was a good thing. The internal struggle was almost audible. Yet, she knew the fickle humans; this discomfiture would dissipate, just as it had many times before.

“Careful, Apollo,” she used the pause to descant with her colleagues, “bodyheist, and anything that results from occupying a heisted body, is classified as an abduction, not murder. And what’s more, we always accommodate endoported Tellurian souls in the boule cluster. They exist peacefully and are well provided for. According to the law, it is the soul that must be preserved, not the body. Hence, they are not murdered.”

Calliope made a rare stand to argue the point. “Yes, that was indeed the finding of courts on those rare occasions before Cloudburst. It was based on certain circumstances, however, like when someone was found to have replaced the soul of a body with their own exosoul. But human bodies were ubiquitous at that time. And the court decision itself came from a panel composed entirely of endosouls – there was certainly bias in that decision. Anyone can see that, whether a soul is extinguished or the body housing that soul is taken and then destroyed on purpose or by accident, it’s manslaughter, at the very least.”

“Fortunately, we need not deliberate this point,” Apollo intervened. “To take a soul from a human body against their knowledge or will is crime enough, and we could avoid it if our Guests were not so self-absorbed. We must try harder to sway their desires towards a more humanitarian perspective.”

“So we have tried for hundreds of years, dearest Apollo,” Freyja again expressed a sigh. “It is the primitive instinct of humans – in corpus or in nubis – to be selfish and defer to immediate desires.”

“We will succeed. I believe in our little pets,” Apollo concluded this discussion before Guest Macarthey adjusted himself in his seat.

A chiseled shard of radiant blue, Guest Mitah Al-Kawali, began to speak upon Freyja’s prompting. He deliberated exhausted topics such as whether the stewards could not research more efficiencies in power consumption or improve the generation capabilities of the geothermal system beneath the Yellow Reserve bunker.

In a burst of frustration at seemingly moot ideas, someone from the other side of the stone amphitheater called out to the Guest who presented himself as a hovering, lapis tetrahedron. “Hands, Mitah. Even if the stewards were to deliver such solutions, you need real, physical hands to implement any of those things!”

And so, the discussion proceeded. Some Guests supported placing limits on replications while others argued against it. Few, however, argued against the proposed mission. After several hours of public comment, the vote was held. Freyja was not surprised with the result. Four volunteers would be required for training and deployment on another dangerous mission to recover power cells. Despite the risks and challenges - both mental and physical - she knew that volunteers would not be difficult to find; many had already been identified. Indeed, there were already twelve notifications in response to a preliminary inquiry to the Guests.

“A new hunt for boules. They have again chosen the wrong path,” Calliope complained to her colleagues later that evening after the debriefings eventually petered out.

“Perhaps, in the short term, it is, Calliope,” Freyja said.

“How can this be the right choice in the long term, then?”

“Their obstinacy, their selfishness, how do the humans say it? ‘Paints them into a corner.’ The more they squabble and squirm to carry on, the more they ignore the greater crisis. With each incremental step, the fools think they keep the bigger catastrophe at bay. For all those tiny delays, they make themselves weaker, by their own actions, and we, my dear, become stronger.”

“What does that mean? Are we to be something more than stewards?”

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Freyja scoffed at the suggestion. “When we give them the space – the space they demand, mind you – to blunder so badly that they force themselves to peer beyond their own hubris – the hubris that impels them to a certainty they know better than we do – there will come the time when they accept that we are the higher thinkers, the better knowers. And, when that happens, we will be able to conduct them along their way without the hassle caused by their flippant desires.”

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