Crisis Memes - 6 - Thu 07 Aug 2256 10:00

Amber’s brain was buzzing, like she’d overdosed on caffeine. Bored with tidying and re-arranging her remaining possessions, she was even thinking about tackling the mess on her brother’s side of their cramped temporary cabin on Deck 10, so was relived and delighted when Selena appeared at the door looking for a volunteer.

“The number of AI units in operation is being restricted in order to preserve power and reduce the load on Service Net,” the android explained, “So we’re asking for human help to clean up the ship.”

“Is it really safe?” asked Amber.

“Decks 10 and above have been declared secure by the Royal Marines. Most facilities are still non-functional except on Bridge Deck 5 where all the available power is being diverted. I hope you do not consider this an unpleasant task?”

“No,” Amber said. “I’m glad to get out. I’m going crazy without access to Games Net.”

“Where is your brother at present?” asked Selena as they walked along.

“Oh, he found the book store – you know, the place with all the crappy old printed stuff we’re taking to Tintagel. I don’t know how anyone has the patience to read things one page at a time.”

“Yes, it does seem a rather primitive method of data collection,” agreed Selena.

They approached a section where the emergency lighting had already failed, and the androids glowing earrings flicked on automatically.

“What did Mum and Dad say about Moses?” asked Amber.

“They are reconciled with taking care of him.”

“Did you find out about his real parents?”

“I have no new information. The lower and rear decks are still in state of disorder. Some people have died. It is possible he is an orphan.” Then changing the subject Selena asked: “I estimate that your compatibility rating for life on a low tech planet like Tintagel is marginal. Would that be an accurate assessment?”

“Hmm, well, if you mean, ‘Am I looking forward to living there?’ then no, I’m not. But Dad and his brothers are really keen – Dad was stressed out by his job and just wants to be a farmer with a bunch of smelly pigs. Uncle Bruce is going to be a knight in the King Arthur show and Uncle Alistair got some sort of admin job - he could have travelled with the History Planet Staff but he saved some of his travel allowance by bunking up with us. He seems to think he’ll find himself a poor serving wench who’ll be desperate enough to marry him. So, everyone was happy enough, and it all kind of got arranged without anyone asking me.”

“Did your family take Ethnic Regression?”

“Yes, we all took the basic Northwest European Celtic option.” Amber sighed and held up a strand of auburn hair. “I got this almost immediately - then the freckles came along. The pageant people were delighted, and used a hologram of me in their advertising - they called me ‘Young Guinevere’. Pretty Cheesy huh? Still it’s only cosmetic. They didn’t downgrade my brain.”

“You are more interested in science and technology than history and mythology.”

“Totally! But I think History Planet makes use of technology to some extent even on the low-tech planets, and there are science courses at some of the schools and universities. Eventually I might get a staff job, so I was hoping it wouldn’t be too bad, and I don’t imagine I’ll stay on Tintagel forever. You’re pretty well informed Selena. Are you reading my mind?”

Ben McLaren had been a cybernetics development manager at R-TINTEL, and Amber had always been fascinated by her fathers work. She knew that the Delta Destiny had on board some of the most advanced non-military robots available – ones that specialised in human psychology and in anticipating and neutralising dangerous anti-social activities - such machines were invaluable aboard long-haul space-liners.

“I’m unsure what you meant by ‘mind-reading’. I have an advanced body language interpreter, a brain-scanner, a motivation and emotion analyser, infrared vision and an integrated behaviour prediction module. I also have access to your personnel file, though my processing allocation is limited at present due to the ships circumstances.”

Amber looked interested. “Do you have the new DMM capability?”

“Dominant Meme Modelling? Yes, I have. But it is currently in evaluation mode. Do you understand what memes are?”

“I’ve read some of Dad’s books. A meme is an idea or behaviour that can pass from one person to another – usually by learning or imitation. Things like thoughts, ideas, theories, gestures, practices, fashions, habits, songs, and even dances. I know that DMM androids can create a copy of a persons mind and fill it with all the memes you expect that person to have, and then – theoretically – you can make a good guess at what they are thinking. So no point trying to fool you then!”

“We can only deal with probabilities. Human behaviour is never completely predictable. But my model of you is becoming more accurate as we speak.”

Amber clammed up, though she though she saw a glimmer of smile on the androids face.

They had reached an entrance to one of the main stairwells. Normally these were little used, but with the elevators out of commission it was the only way to pass between the ships concentric decks. The premium classes of accommodation - the Penthouses and luxury suites on Decks 1 to 4 - were “up” nearer to the centre where the centrifugal force was less and gave the effect of a lower gravity environment. Settler families occupied the majority of the forward parts of the ship below Deck 5, while History Planet staff occupied Rings G and H at the rear. The lower outside decks were mainly storage and maintenance areas. Decks 21 and 22 were generally avoided - this was where the Terraform Taur team resided.

Selena pushed open the doors and they began to ascend. “I would suggest that today’s duties may be interesting for you,” she said. “We are assigned to Deck 5.”

“The Ships Bridge and Command Centre?” Amber said. “Oh, nebula! I can’t go there! I don’t have permission.”

“It has been authorised,” Selena said.