Blindsight

“He called me to his tent. He told me to watch.”

She regarded me from a face full of shadow. “You didn’t try to stop him?”

I couldn’t answer the accusation in her voice. “I just — observe,” I said weakly.

“I thought you were trying to stop him from—” She shook her head. “That’s why I thought he was attacking you.”

“You’re saying that wasn’t an act? You weren’t in on it?” I didn’t believe it.

But I could tell she did.

“I thought you were trying to protect them.” She snorted a soft, humorless laugh at her own mistake and looked away. “I guess I should have known better.”

She should have. She should have known that taking orders is one thing; taking sides would have done nothing but compromise my integrity.

And I should have been used to it by now.

I forged on. “It was some kind of object lesson. A, a tutorial. You can’t torture the nonsentient or something, and — and I heard you, Susan. It wasn’t news to you, it wasn’t news to anyone except me, and…”

And you hid it from me. You all did. You and your whole gang and Amanda too. You’ve been hashing this out for days and you went out of your way to cover it up.

How did I miss it? How did I miss it?

“Jukka told us not to discuss it with you,” Susan admitted.

“Why? This is exactly the kind of thing I’m out here for!”

“He said you’d — resist. Unless it was handled properly.”

“Handled — Susan, he assaulted me! You saw what he—”

“We didn’t know he was going to do that. None of us did.”

“And he did it why? To win an argument?”

“That’s what he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Probably.” After a moment she shrugged. “Who knows? He’s a vampire. He’s — opaque.”

“But his record — I mean, he’s, he’s never resorted to overt violence before—”

She shook her head. “Why should he? He doesn’t have to convince the rest of us of anything. We have to follow his orders regardless.”

“So do I,” I reminded her.

“He’s not trying to convince you, Siri.”

Ah.

I was only a conduit, after all. Sarasti hadn’t been making his case to me at all; he’d been making it through me, and—

—and he was planning for a second round. Why go to such extremes to present a case to Earth, if Earth was irrelevant? Sarasti didn’t expect the game to end out here. He expected Earth to do something in light of his — perspective.

“But what difference does it make?” I wondered aloud.

She just looked at me.

“Even if he’s right, how does it change anything? How does this—” I raised my repaired hand — “change anything? Scramblers are intelligent, whether they’re sentient or not. They’re a potential threat either way. We still don’t know. So what difference does it make? Why did he do this to me? How does it matter?”

Susan raised her face to Big Ben and didn’t answer.

Sascha returned her face to me, and tried to.

“It matters,” she said, “because it means we attacked them before Theseus launched. Before Firefall, even.”

“We attacked the—”

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t.” Sascha snorted softly. “If that isn’t the fucking funniest thing I’ve heard in my whole short life.”

She leaned forward, bright-eyed. “Imagine you’re a scrambler, and you encounter a human signal for the very first time.”

Her stare was almost predatory. I resisted the urge to back away.

“It should be so easy for you, Keeton. It should be the easiest gig you’ve ever had. Aren’t you the user interface, aren’t you the Chinese Room? Aren’t you the one who never has to look inside, never has to walk a mile in anyone’s shoes, because you figure everyone out from their surfaces?”

She stared at Ben’s dark smoldering disk. “Well, there’s your dream date. There’s a whole race of nothing but surfaces. There’s no inside to figure out. All the rules are right up front. So go to work, Siri Keeton. Make us proud.”

There was no contempt in Sascha’s voice, no disdain. There wasn’t even anger, not in her voice, not in her eyes.

There was pleading. There were tears.

“Imagine you’re a scrambler,” she whispered again, as they floated like tiny perfect beads before her face.

* * *

Imagine you’re a scrambler.

Imagine you have intellect but no insight, agendas but no awareness. Your circuitry hums with strategies for survival and persistence, flexible, intelligent, even technological — but no other circuitry monitors it. You can think of anything, yet are conscious of nothing.

You can’t imagine such a being, can you? The term being doesn’t even seem to apply, in some fundamental way you can’t quite put your finger on.

Try.