Permutation City

"Because there might not have been any breakthrough. The only thing that's certain is that some of the wealthiest -- and best-informed -- Copies have decided that it's worth going into this . . . sanctuary. And I've got the chance to go with them."

Peer was silent for a while. Finally, he asked, "So are you moving -- or cloning yourself?"

"Cloning."

He could have concealed his relief, easily -- but he didn't. He said, "I'm glad. I would have missed you."

"And I'd have missed you. I want you to come with me."

"You want -- ?"

Kate leaned toward him. "Carter has said he'll include you -- and your baggage -- for another fifty percent. Clone yourself and come with me. I don't want to lose you -- either of me."

Peer felt a rush of excitement -- and fear. He took a snap-shot of the emotion, then said, "I don't know. I've never --"

"A second version, running on the most secure hardware on the planet. That's not surrendering to outside -- it's just finally gaining some true independence."

"Independence? What if these Copies get bored with Carter's city and decide to trash it -- trade it in for something new?"

Kate was unfazed. "That's not impossible. But there are no guarantees on the public networks, either. This way, at least you have a greater chance that one version will survive."

Peer tried to imagine it. "Stowaways. No communications. Just us, and whatever software we bring."

"You're Solipsist Nation, aren't you?"

"You know I am. But . . . I've never run a second version before. I don't know how I'll feel about that, after the split."

How who will feel about it?

Kate bent over and picked up his heart. "Having a second version won't bother you." She fixed her new gray eyes on him. "We're running at a slowdown of sixty-seven. Carter will be delivering his city to Durham, six real-time months from now. But who knows when Operation Butterfly will flat-line us again? So you don't have long to decide."

Peer continued to show Kate his body sitting in the chair, thinking it over, while in truth he rose to his feet and walked across the room, escaping her formidable gaze.

Who am I? Is this what I want?

He couldn't concentrate. He manually invoked a menu on one of the control screens, an array of a dozen identical images: a nineteenth-century anatomical drawing of the brain, with the surface divided into regions labeled with various emotions and skills. Each icon represented a package of mental parameters: snapshots of previous states of mind, or purely synthetic combinations.

Peer hit the icon named clarity.

In twelve short real-time years as a Copy, he'd tried to explore every possibility, map out every consequence of what he'd become. He'd transformed his surroundings, his body, his personality, his perceptions -- but he'd always owned the experience himself. The tricks he'd played on his memory had added, never erased -- and whatever changes he'd been through, there was always only one person, in the end, taking responsibility, picking up the pieces. One witness, unifying it all.

The truth was, the thought of finally surrendering that unity made him dizzy with fear. It was the last vestige of his delusion of humanity. The last big lie.

And as Daniel Lebesgue, founder of Solipsist Nation, had written: "My goal is to take everything which might be revered as quintessentially human . . . and grind it into dust."

He returned to his seated body, and said, "I'll do it."

Kate smiled, raised his beating heart to her lips, and gave it a long, lingering kiss.

6

(Rip, tie, cut toy man)

JUNE 2045

Paul woke without any confusion. He dressed and ate, trying to feel optimistic. He'd demonstrated his willingness to cooperate; now it was time to ask for something in return. He walked into the study, switched on the terminal, and called his own number. The djinn answered at once.

Paul said, "I'd like to talk to Elizabeth."

Squeak. "That's not possible."

"Not possible? Why don't you just ask her?"

Squeak. "I can't do that. She doesn't even know you exist."