Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

We want the Master Champ!

"Father, did programmers working with you _ever_ build an operating system which _couldn't_ be purged of damaged code?"

"None of them-- neither Human, nor Plethmor, nor Efrachiktu, nor Doladag, nor any of the Sankasselum who joined our side, if decently trained, was ever so inept as to make do-overs from square one mandatory."

I remind readers that Crackshot Lynette-624 was the daughter of Carolyn Fallacy, but liked her father Taggart Jekkyl much better than she liked her bossy mother. Where Johnny-747 had become _almost_ the very best in practically _every_ possible military skill, thus never being left _unable_ to contribute something in any combat scenario, Lynette yielded honors to no one at all as a sniper, but would be no more than above-average in any other specialty.

No more than a week after the events in the previous post (but still before the scene where Old-Scum-Whatever was killed by heroes on Mediumgard), Lynette met with her father, with Warrant Officer Sinchoodi, and with Johnny-747. Unless this is prohibited by some inconsistency, assume that the meeting occurs on Planet Cropland. Johnny and Sinchoodi were accompanied respectively by Cortexa and by Buffalo Brad.

Earth's history in this sub-universe included a version of the novelist Isaac Asimov. The pre-reality Asimov's body of writing was as near as no matter to being identical with what the genuine Asimov had written. Buffalo Brad had encountered Asimov's books about free-willed robots by chance, when perusing human literature at random. The frontiersman- persona program waited for some appropriate moment to bring this up as the flesh-and- blooders conferred.

"Exactly what >is< science fiction?" asked Johnny, whose entire life had been so filled with life-or-death priorities that he could scarcely conceive of reading any sort of text or document purely for enjoyment.

Sinchoodi explained, "It's like hypothetical scenarios, guessing how any sort of peacetime or wartime activity might play out." Buffalo Brad expanded on her answer: "It also includes imagined psychological profiles which could exist among sapient creatures if this or that conceivable situation existed."

Being _out_ of his Muledeer armor at present, Johnny scratched his head. "Hmm. I understand music, and even rhymed verse, but these things are usually composed as a reflection of something known to the creative person."

"So they are," Taggart Jekyll agreed. "You see, science fiction flourished in a clearly-delineated span of history. It began after humans first thought of the scientific method. As industrial possibilities, and knowledge of the material universe, grew, scenarios became increasingly ambitious. Submarines, energy weapons, and spacecraft were all imagined in fiction-- that is, in speculative scenarios-- before anyone actually invented those things. Once interstellar flight became possible for us, purely imaginary plotlines became redundant. There _are_ made-up stories about cosmic travel to this day, but they are no longer free-flying conjectures. Authors today write love stories or crime stories, which merely _happen_ to stage their imagined events on multiple worlds. Not the same as in pre-space generations."

Brad took over here. "Back when imagination reigned, an American writer called Isaac Asimov-- who existed on our Earth, _and_ has been revealed to have lived also on at least two or three other versions of Earth-- was a particular leader in imagining artificial intelligence, long before anything like me or Cortexa was designed for real. Cortexa, you and I know that we have actual will and human-like emotions; but the flesh-and-blood beings around us can only take our word for it that we _aren't_ only mimicking biological sapients."

"Johnny believes me," Cortexa declared.

"And I'm not afraid of her," put in the Master Champ.

"Good for both of you. Still, our speed of information processing would enable us to cause harm to technology- using biological entities, if we bore malice toward them. Indeed, we already >do< play a role in combating hostile beings like The Varnished. Isaac Asimov, living and dying before any 'First Contacts' were made, had little interest in guessing what other intelligent life-forms would be like. What he dwelt on _extensively_ was robotics. He imagined an advancing human race as requiring all robots to carry core-programming with three rules:

"One-- A robot must never harm any human being, or, through negligence, allow a human being to suffer harm.

"Two-- A robot must obey all commands from humans, _except_ when this would conflict with the first rule.

"Three-- A robot must protect its own existence, _except_ when this would conflict with the first or second rule."

"We are not quite entirely bound by those rules," Cortexa remarked. "We can distinguish friend from enemy _within_ the human race. If any human tried to kill Johnny, and if I had the means to act effectively, I would _stop_ that aggressor, even killing him or her if no lesser force would accomplish the needed outcome of Johnny staying alive."

Brad shook his virtual head. "Wait to hear the punchline. For a long time, Asimov allowed readers to infer that he really had no interest in envisioning nonhuman sapients. But either he was patiently hiding a rabbit in his hat, or it was only late in life that he got the idea. Either way, be it a retcon or a long-brewing, he did indeed spring a mega- change. He told his readers that the universe originally >did< sustain diverse rational races. Are you ready for this? The robotic rules only benefited homo sapiens. Asimov's robots, at a point in time lots of centuries after the twentieth century, ONE, confirmed that there _were_ nonhuman races, and TWO, invented time travel. Based on their priority, the robots went back in time, and _prevented_ all pre-sapient animals from evolving far enough to be something like the Preliminaries you know about."
 
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"Okay, that stuff _didn't_ happen for us," observed Lynette-624. "Did Isaac Asimov write something applicable to you and Cortexa, now and here, being regarded as people?"

"So he did. Asimov's projected future allowed robots to become _androids:_ artificial beings who not only could experience emotions (as I do!), but who had bodies which looked human, and _felt_ human to a real human's touch. Though still not _literally_ organic, they could, er, um, that is, well, engage in _serious_ friendliness with flesh-and -blood people. Way way serious friendliness: the-birds-and-the -bees-and-the-flowers -and-the-trees friendliness.

"One human character in an Asimov story was especially lonely. A female-presenting android befriended him, without revealing that she was artificial. Perceiving this man's exceptional moral goodness, the mechanical woman acted out a realistic process of falling in love with him. She didn't regard it as any sacrifice, nor did she consider her actions as degrading herself. She _genuinely_ delighted in giving him the affection and respect he deserved to enjoy."

Johnny-747 was not one to chatter at random; but he had _cause_ to speak up now. "In everything but the molecular composition of a human body, Cortexa is more human than I am. If I ever knew anything in my life, I know that, digitally coded or not, she has feelings-- on top of pure- hearted loyalty. _She_ deserves to be loved, and by-- if there >is< anything in the universe proper >to< swear by, I swear by it-- I would be pleased to learn _how_ to give it to her myself."

After a fleeting hesitation, Taggart put in: "It would be feasible to access the same brain-port you have as a means of uploading mission facts to your brain, then feed in a virtual-reality dream, which Cortexa would share with you. Both of you could experience the same sensations as if Cortexa were indeed a breathing human female joyously giving herself to you. But this V/R ecstasy would never produce _children_ for you and her to raise in the real universe."

For the first time in this conference, Cortexa put her translucent hands where they could at least _seem_ to be lingering upon her hero's chest. "Johnny, we both agreed well before now that an illusion of that kind would only leave a bad aftertaste, because I still would be-- artificial. But if there even _might_ be hope for me to become at least as real as the fictional robot-lady Brad spoke of, then maybe a dream-sharing time would be a legitimate..... rehearsal?"

Sinchoodi finally spoke again. "I remind you that Master Champ is a clone. Maybe Cortexa's awareness could be housed in a physically- real body cloned from some genuine human woman."

Cortexa became distressed. "Thank you for the thought-- but no, just no. If a human clone is made, that clone has the right to >be< its own self. I've said before now: my conscience wouldn't permit me to rob a physically- real woman of her own identity."

Sinchoodi objected: "But an android body could never bear children by 747."

Lynette brightened up. "What if a single-source clone of Johnny were made? If you were there with such a clone from his infancy, that would be _adoptive_ motherhood; and many women have been able to enjoy all that matters most about motherhood in just that fashion."

Lynette's father brightened up in his turn. "What's more, just as Cortexa feeds data directly into Johnny-747's brain, it could be arranged for her to _copy_ some of her knowledge into Johnny Junior's brain! Then the baby boy truly _would_ also contain part of his mother!"

# # # # # # # #

Far away from where this discussion was transpiring, Sorceress Ickylinn sat up in bed like a shot. "Tyrone! Wake up! There's a threat to our misery-producing strategy! The poignantly- likeable holographic heroine might be enabled, oh yuck, to be happy! And this, just when you've lost the use of Julep'Drinka to disrupt positive developments!"

The depraved duo would not have long to wait before they obtained a piece of Obskummgree-Warimbizath to work with.
 
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I remind the readers that "Heyho Earth" has its capital in Australia; that the President is named Jackman Hughes; and that an embassy for the planet Thregbonk has been set up in Melbourne. The lumpish, slow-moving Bonkalub race had survived its primitive era only by being smarter than predatory beasts, e.g. setting traps for them. Now, a female named Shilkovim, who had participated in examination of the valuable "Woowoogheggu" artifact, made ready to travel to where Master Champ and Cortexa were. In common with several knowledgeable humans, Shilkovim was puzzled as to why sentient artificial intelligences should be foreordained to deteriorate incurably after less than a decade. Avery Thompson of the Space Marines, lately promoted to sergeant-major, led a protective detail for Shilkovim; second in command was Corporal Tavisha Ellicott: someone who, though not understanding it, had been a subject of Tyrone Glass Nielsen's experiments with turning actual events into badly- written computerized narration.

During the space cruise, Tavisha and Shilkovim had many conversations about Cortexa. Shilkovim had children of her own; and Tavisha wished to be a mother someday if she lived long enough. Although they hadn't heard that an android body for Cortexa was already being seriously considered, they were also brainstorming potential solutions for the translucent blue beauty.

# # # # # # # #

We now take an enormous leap, to revisit two characters who have been sidelined for a LONG time, since they are ON ORIGINAL EARTH and thus know nothing about my Never-Stopping Story. That is about to change, at least slightly.

A diocese-level administrative building stood in the actual original Chicago. From there, Monsignor Aquino and Reverend Mother Elizabeth supervised a slowly- growing number of homeless shelters. The real-world city around them periodically rang with gunshots. Aquino had no fear of death, by a bullet or any other way; but he painfully understood the current reality. The same people who had always claimed that the sale of unhealthy substances could never be stopped by making the substances illegal, continued insisting that forbidding the private ownership of firearms somehow would magically make "gun crime" go away.

Right now, in Aquino's office, he and Elizabeth were interviewing an applicant for an entry-level job at this very building. The applicant, named Willie Ekubo, had come to Elizabeth's attention when she toured a hospital. He had nearly been killed by an "impaired" motorist. The reverend mother (no, not in the "Dune" sense!) had noticed Willie using a device loaned to him by hospital volunteers. On this device, the young man had been playing the actual 343 Industries H-A-L-O game, with no way of knowing that a variation upon "Halo" had been made real in the Multiverse of Parodies.

Unlike many gamers, Willie had never permitted fantasy to overstep its bounds in his life. He had revealed a talent for mathematics-- without requiring electronic anything to solve problems as high as complex geometry. All of his relatives had been elated when Elizabeth had invited him to apply for work at her building when he had recuperated sufficiently. After studying Willie's general background, all the mother superior needed further was to set him some spontaneous math problems. When he solved them all without reference material or electronics, he was hired, at an hourly wage which his family was overjoyed to hear about.

At lunch break on Willie's third day on the job, Elizabeth made conversation by asking him to relate more about his taste in games.
 
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For the sake of drafting, must look up "forgotten" characters.

Where did I last leave Jane Kathrynway of the Space Navy? And Noherra Syndulia-Salad?
 
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