Instead of the envy and jealousy he would have felt on Earth, Eric received only compliments and good wishes from his associates when he was promoted to supervisor in charge of all computer-related activities on Eden. Eric enjoyed it because he was able to spend more time with Jeeter Sa-Nos-Tee. He was on a first-name basis with most of the population of Snake by now, and as he felt more and more at home among the Edenites, his hitherto reclusive personality expanded like a flower in the sun.
Like most secrets in small communities, the secret of Eric’s and Lisa’s origins could not be kept hidden for long. Revelation bore out the truth of Councilwoman Madras’s claim. No one gave a damn. Lisa grew close to an agri specialist before she learned that Aelita Marcensky was an artison like herself.
As the months passed, Eric relaxed more and more, though he still couldn’t completely convince himself that they were safe. There was always the fear that the authorities might send a suicide team through to ensure that the Syrax plan, gone astray or not, could not harm the colony.
He carefully scrutinized each new group of arrivals alongside Jeeter, but evidently the authorities had been satisfied with his defection. Eric still lived, but the Syrax had failed in their attempt to steal the secret of the GATE, and the prosaic Colligatarch should count that a sufficient success. In any case, there were no kamikazes among the newcomers, and none of them mentioned Eric’s or Lisa’s history to the Council. There would be no point to it, since the deceived Edenites would hardly jump to do WOSA’s dirty work.
"Tell me something, Jeeter,” Eric asked him as they performed minor surgery on part of the GATE circuitry one day, “do you think many people would go back to Earth if they were given the opportunity?”
Jeeter slid out from beneath the console he was working on, pushed back his red headband, and looked thoughtful. “I don’t think so, Eric. Independence is worth a lot. This planet may not be the promised land, but the society we’ve been able to develop here is a thousand years ahead of Earth’s. There are only two clinical psychologists and no psychiatrists to serve everyone on Eden, and they spend a lot of their time skiing. No, I don’t know anyone who’d go back to that cauldron of tribalism and petty personal rivalry and crime. Life here is tough, but at least it’s sane. And there’s no Colligatarch to ‘suggest’ how we’re to run our lives.”
Eric nodded. “The Earth couldn’t function anymore without the Colligatarch. Population’s too big and unstable.”
“Well here it’s sensible and stable. I’ve read a lot about this Colligatarch. It runs everything, doesn’t it?”
“Not exactly. It has no real power. It just advises.”
“Uh-huh.” Jeeter was nodding knowingly, a rueful smile on his face. “And like everything else, I suppose it ‘advised’ an embryonic WOSA to set up the lie about paradise worlds that lured my grandparents and everyone else through the GATE.”
“I don’t see how the deception could have been arranged without the machine’s connivance,” Eric agreed.
“I didn’t know that it was possible to design a duplicitous machine.”
“The Colligatarch’s much more than a machine,” Eric explained. “It possesses consciousness along with extraordinary computational abilities. It’s tied into every major computer ganglion on the planet.”
“No, most of us wouldn’t care to live with something like that watching over us, no matter how beneficent its motives.”
“That’s why I’ve been wondering about your local computer setup. It strikes me as pretty sophisticated for a population of seventy-five thousand.”
“It has to be, to help us cope with our ‘paradise,’” Jeeter pointed out.
“Does it? You know what I’ve been thinking? That within another fifty years or less you’re going to receive some innocuous-looking program that, once inserted into the local system, will turn it into a smaller analog version of the Colligatarch.”
Jeeter’s expression darkened. It was the first time Eric had ever seen him really upset. “Now, why would it want to do that?”
“To extend its reach to the colonies. Remember that the machine had to have been in on the deception from the beginning. Subsequently it helped in the expansion and design of all colony facilities. It passes on what supplies you’re to receive, how many specialists in what fields. I’m frankly surprised it hasn’t sent an operative piece of itself through to be integrated into our network already. It’s only a matter of time.”
Jeeter sat up. “We have to inform the Council. At least we can be on our guard from now on. We can scan each program package as it comes through.”
“You think that’ll be enough? The Colligatarch and WOSA have been fooling the colonists for a hundred and fifty years. You think they won’t be capable of fooling you in the future?”
“Well then, you’ll be able to detect it. You’re the best we have, Eric.”
“Thanks, but what happens fifty years down the road? Programming and procedures on Earth may have advanced so much by then that not even I will be able to see through the deceptive techniques.”
“Something has to be done. The settlers here wouldn’t stand for that kind of control. It’s one of the things they came here hoping to get away from.”
“They won’t have any choice in the matter,” Eric said grimly. “Once the Colligatarch’s electronic satrap takes control of the local system, you’ll never be able to dig it out. Eden will be forced to deal with Colligatarch-generated ‘suggestions’ whether it wants to or not.” He grinned humorlessly. “Besides, what’s the harm in that? The Colligatarch only wants to make life better for you. That’s all it’s programmed to do. Making decisions will become so much easier.”
“We like making our own decisions, as you know. Our computer network is useful, sure. So are plows and hydroelectric generators, but they’re all nothing more than tools. We don’t need a machine making decisions for us, even under the polite guise of suggestions. I know the history. Sure, it’s made life on Earth easier, but after a while everything’s left up to the machine. We don’t want our own brains to atrophy.
“We don’t need a Colligatarch here. We’re not subject to Earth’s periodic threats of war, or mass starvation, or epidemics. We’ll just have to watch the deliveries as close as we can.”
“There’s something else that might be done,” Eric murmured. His attention was focused on something off in the distance. Jeeter let him concentrate on his thoughts for several minutes before interrupting the silence.
“What? Some kind of advanced alarm procedure we can build on to the network?”
“No. I can’t outthink or out-anticipate the Colligatarch. It will slip itself into our system no matter how carefully we try to prepare. It may already have begun to do so.”
“Then we’re helpless, short of throwing away our entire network and scrapping everything new that comes through from Earth.”
“Not necessarily. You see, I know where paradise is,” he said quietly.
Jeeter said nothing. Conversation at several other tables died as the eavesdroppers no longer were able to conceal their interest. Eric didn’t suggest that they leave. Everyone would know sooner or later.
“Oh, you mean Garden,” Jeeter finally said.
“I doubt it. Garden’s probably much like Eden. It wouldn’t make sense for WOSA to send half the colonists to a rough world like Eden and the other half to the promised land.”
“Why not? We certainly wouldn’t know the difference.”
“No, but the psychological profiles and task requirements of all colonists are the same. Different profiles and skills would be demanded if differing worlds were being settled. I think anyone with access to a list of such items for the past century or so could figure out neither Eden nor Garden is what it’s advertised to be. I think the population of Garden’s no better off than we are here.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about, Eric?”
“You know what I am.”
“Sure.” Jeeter appeared embarrassed that his friend had thought it necessary to mention the matter. “You’re an artison built by an alien race, the Syrax. So what? To me and everyone else on Eden, you’re just another citizen. More gifted than most, no less human than most. We don’t give a damn if you were produced in a womb, a test tube, or some kind of alien pressure cooker.”
