"The first thing you need to know is that the Keeper's not completely wrong," Yurikaw said as she tapped at the glass screen of her interdimensional iPad equivalent, gun and helmet set aside on Laura's kitchen counter. "Travel between worlds, dimensions, timelines, whatever you want to call them, is dangerous. Does your language have a word for colonization?"
"Yes. You just used it," Laura said.
"Actually, I didn't. I used the equivalent in my language. I just have very good translation technology -- external, not internal, but it does the job." Yurikaw tapped her earpiece and grinned. "But anyway, you have that concept. Apply it to entire worlds. Or imagine the worst... pandemics? Did that also translate?"
Laura nodded. Beside her, Aujae nearly managed to conceal a flinch. Laura squeezed her hand and wrote a mental reminder to ask about that later.
Yurikaw turned her tablet to face Laura, displaying an image of emaciated corpses covered in weeping, pus-filled sores. "Imagine over ninety percent of a whole world's population wiped out by another world's equivalent of a childhood irritant." She tapped the screen, changed the image to leprous-looking trees swathed in choking, rust-colored smog. "Imagine worlds strip-mined for resources until they were so polluted they couldn't support life anymore." Another tap, another image. "Imagine slavery" -- tap -- "genocide" -- tap -- "wars that span a dozen dimensions, half of whose inhabitants might not even understand why they're suddenly the site of another world's battles."
Yurikaw set the tablet down and stared across the kitchen table, like she was trying to make eye contact for emphasis. Laura met her gaze for a second, then let her attention drift to the other woman's chin and hands.
"Except you don't have to imagine any of that," Yurikaw said, gesturing toward her tablet, "because everything I've just mentioned has happened. The Keeper was built as a safeguard by some survivors of those wars. Its central directive is to keep humans, or our dimensional equivalents, from committing similar atrocities again."
"That sounds reasonable," Laura said. Aujae stifled another flinch, skin chilled and sweaty against Laura's palm and fingers, but she made no move to pull away. Laura pulled their joined hands over to rest on her thigh and asked, "Where did it go wrong?"
"When the Keeper concluded, perfectly logically, that the only foolproof way to prevent people from abusing interdimensional travel technology was to make sure nobody had that technology in the first place. And after a few failed attempts to convince people to ignore new discoveries, it concluded -- again, perfectly logically -- that the only foolproof way to make sure nobody had interdimensional travel technology was to kill anyone who came close to inventing it and destroy all their work. If that fails, it escalates until it deems the problem solved. Of course, the Keeper can't do any of this directly -- its programmers did build some failsafes into their creation -- but it can send agents as its hands. Hence your friend the assassin."
"Aujae has a name," Laura said sharply. "You should use it."
"You're right. She does. My apologies, Agent Guilaeo," Yurikaw said in a level, stripped-bare tone.
"Thank you," Laura said. She waited, but Yurikaw seemed occupied with staring at Aujae instead of continuing her explanation. "Um. So. That's the first thing -- that the Keeper isn't entirely wrong? What's the second?"
Yurikaw broke off her staring contest and picked up her tablet. "The second thing is that the Keeper has become as bad as what it's working to prevent. I said it escalates, if a surgical strike doesn't work. It doesn't have limits on that escalation. Ask Agent Guilaeo about some of her assignments. Ask her about the metropolis of Sivan -- or what used to be Sivan, before she glassed it and touched off a worldwide war."
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Equivalent Exchange
Date: 2018-05-01 09:09 pm (UTC)---------------
"The first thing you need to know is that the Keeper's not completely wrong," Yurikaw said as she tapped at the glass screen of her interdimensional iPad equivalent, gun and helmet set aside on Laura's kitchen counter. "Travel between worlds, dimensions, timelines, whatever you want to call them, is dangerous. Does your language have a word for colonization?"
"Yes. You just used it," Laura said.
"Actually, I didn't. I used the equivalent in my language. I just have very good translation technology -- external, not internal, but it does the job." Yurikaw tapped her earpiece and grinned. "But anyway, you have that concept. Apply it to entire worlds. Or imagine the worst... pandemics? Did that also translate?"
Laura nodded. Beside her, Aujae nearly managed to conceal a flinch. Laura squeezed her hand and wrote a mental reminder to ask about that later.
Yurikaw turned her tablet to face Laura, displaying an image of emaciated corpses covered in weeping, pus-filled sores. "Imagine over ninety percent of a whole world's population wiped out by another world's equivalent of a childhood irritant." She tapped the screen, changed the image to leprous-looking trees swathed in choking, rust-colored smog. "Imagine worlds strip-mined for resources until they were so polluted they couldn't support life anymore." Another tap, another image. "Imagine slavery" -- tap -- "genocide" -- tap -- "wars that span a dozen dimensions, half of whose inhabitants might not even understand why they're suddenly the site of another world's battles."
Yurikaw set the tablet down and stared across the kitchen table, like she was trying to make eye contact for emphasis. Laura met her gaze for a second, then let her attention drift to the other woman's chin and hands.
"Except you don't have to imagine any of that," Yurikaw said, gesturing toward her tablet, "because everything I've just mentioned has happened. The Keeper was built as a safeguard by some survivors of those wars. Its central directive is to keep humans, or our dimensional equivalents, from committing similar atrocities again."
"That sounds reasonable," Laura said. Aujae stifled another flinch, skin chilled and sweaty against Laura's palm and fingers, but she made no move to pull away. Laura pulled their joined hands over to rest on her thigh and asked, "Where did it go wrong?"
"When the Keeper concluded, perfectly logically, that the only foolproof way to prevent people from abusing interdimensional travel technology was to make sure nobody had that technology in the first place. And after a few failed attempts to convince people to ignore new discoveries, it concluded -- again, perfectly logically -- that the only foolproof way to make sure nobody had interdimensional travel technology was to kill anyone who came close to inventing it and destroy all their work. If that fails, it escalates until it deems the problem solved. Of course, the Keeper can't do any of this directly -- its programmers did build some failsafes into their creation -- but it can send agents as its hands. Hence your friend the assassin."
"Aujae has a name," Laura said sharply. "You should use it."
"You're right. She does. My apologies, Agent Guilaeo," Yurikaw said in a level, stripped-bare tone.
"Accepted, Agent Madranashkiyug," Aujae said, equally flat.
"Thank you," Laura said. She waited, but Yurikaw seemed occupied with staring at Aujae instead of continuing her explanation. "Um. So. That's the first thing -- that the Keeper isn't entirely wrong? What's the second?"
Yurikaw broke off her staring contest and picked up her tablet. "The second thing is that the Keeper has become as bad as what it's working to prevent. I said it escalates, if a surgical strike doesn't work. It doesn't have limits on that escalation. Ask Agent Guilaeo about some of her assignments. Ask her about the metropolis of Sivan -- or what used to be Sivan, before she glassed it and touched off a worldwide war."
Under the table, Aujae let go of Laura's hand.