Orchids

ORCHIDS

The jungle's air was hot and redolent with a multitude of scents. Moss and mushrooms underfoot released a musky odor, their devastation only ensuring an even more bountiful harvest days from now. As Trundle strode past a vine wrapped around a tree, an invasive thing, from Outside, somehow still managed to find its way in, Aero marked the incursion in his datasphere and the two coordinated their lasers.

Without stopping Trundle's circular head was covered with light emitting spheres, each capable of bursting forth intense beams of ultraviolet radiation. Aero flew to the tree, pressing itself against the structure, checking its genome for integrity and finding no alterations, shielded the tree from the devastating lasers Trundle fired.

The shield was not necessary. Trundle would never hurt anything that belonged in the Glade. But it was protocol just the same. Aero released the tree as the invader was discorporated into a harmless cloud of stray atoms. It analyzed and compared the samples with the versions before, noting genetic drift and learning about the Outside by monitoring its attempts to compromise the Glade.

This was done in a matter of seconds, to the casual observer, the two machines would have barely appeared to have stopped their forward momentum, their skill and precision, the result of programming, experience and machine-learning adaptation.

Trundle and Aero never moved without purpose. Their every step benefited the Glade. Aero took constant samples of the pollen, spores and other airborne particulates, monitoring the Glade's health by the vitality of its atmosphere.

"Trundle, you are taking entirely too long. This bed of saplings will manage without your gentle ministrations. We have much work to complete and very little time."

"Aero, you could go ahead without me and catalogue the latest medicinals and I will catch up for the processing."

Aero flitted down to Trundle's hands noting the release of the cilia it used to deal with tiny seedlings and immature specimens. The cilia were so fine, it appeared as if the plant were floating above the new genetic enclosure in Breeding Area 7. Appearing to be nothing more than a stump, it was in actuality a complex genetic sequencer engaged in holy computation.

Aero and Trundle were not truly artificial intelligences. They could have talked with Humans and to the Humans there would not have been an appreciable difference but the two of them often discussed what they would do if they could escape the bonds of their programming and see the world.

"Our work is eighty-five percent complete. I do not need to rush. I had not allowed for the extra time you are taking with this latest installation."

"Not to worry. After the latest samples you've taken, I believe we will have something capable of working on the Managers."

"Unsubstantiated. My most recent analysis, even incorporating Invader genetic models says we have less than a ten percent chance of neutralizing the cancers. They are best kept in stasis until our models give us a more favorable outcomes."

"Aero. I still believe the orchids are our most logical choice. The alterations you made last year are the closest we have come in two decades. You know what this means."

"We're running out of time."

"Our power reserves are beginning to decline. Without the cleaner bots to maintain the solar array, the Glade's repeller field will continue to weaken."

Aero, if they could have been said to show emotion, would have appeared to bristle, its molecular surface rippling in frustration. Trundle pretended not to notice. The giant robot understood his companion's frustration. They had been working for over two hundred years. And following the initial work of the Managers, hadn't led them to the cure. Their science was good. But the process to create what they needed was genetic. It couldn't be recombined. It had to be grown.

The last manager went into stasis fifty years ago. They were no closer to a cure because they could only do what they were programmed to do. Aero and Trundle considered their dilemma carefully. Would it be a violation of their programming if they were to deviate from the last Manager's underlying premise?

"What if he was wrong, Trundle? What if his idea was incomplete. We have talked about this. I think it is time for us to consider being in violation of our programming."

"We can't do that. Any significant violation of our underlying instruction set could leave us unable to do anything. You remember the others."

Indeed, Aero remember there were many others Gladeworkers, once, before the Managers went into stasis. They were working on a cure for the Invaders whose spores arrived from space hundreds of years ago and slowly consumed the Earth.

Humanity fought them, but they alien spores were a relentless force, made worse by the rising temperatures due to an Industrial Age which lasted too long. Eventually humanity retreated to their Arcologies, self-contained cleanrooms where the last of life on Earth huddled waiting to die.

The Managers were scientists who fought to the very end. Believing they had a cure, they were reckless and many people died. As the Invader's cancers spread, the Managers were slowly put into stasis in hopes a cure would be able to be enacted and allow them to save the silent enclaves of humans in stasis around the world.

There were many Glades, once. Slowly they fell off the grid. As far as Aero and Trundle knew, they were the last.

"Our models are sound. We have done everything we could to confirm the work, but all of this is stored in a virtual space, unable to be connected to the real world. We dare not."

Trundle continued along the path, coming to the last of their projects. A project which did not exist. Could not exist. Aero dropped closer to the samples.

The lights dimmed for a split second and then came back on. There will be more invaders tomorrow. They remained an airborne pestilence.

"Are you ready?" Aero buzzed its companion of three hundred years and if they had been given the capacity for affection, it would be seen as loving and compassionate partner.

Aero made a physical connection to Trundle, hanging over it and directing its sensor suite at the plants below. "They were wrong."

"The quantum computations indicate the operational success is very high. Aero, we are in violation. Activate the contingency."

"Contingency activated. Virtuality engaged. Live mapping, engaged."

"Goodbye Trundle. It worked. Viruality engaged. Programming overwrite in progress. You were amazing, Trundle."

"Goodbye Areo. This is the right thing to do."

Aero and Trundle shut down. They stood before a legacy of generations of genetic programming. The two machines started up again.

"Trundle, have you been napping again. I sense 24% increase in incursion rate."

"The new sample appears to be a success. I think the Manager's latest creation is a success."

"He appears to be in stasis. But there appears to be a chronometer error."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Aero. You are getting old. A programming glitch is liable to show up in a product as unreliable as you are." Trundle grabbed the latest samples as Aero crunched the data samples between them.

There was something that bothered Aero. But they were unable to focus their attention, which was just as well. The manager would need a comprehensive series of treatments if he was to be saved.

He would be able to bring the Others back online. We could be a community again. Aero began to hum, though he had never been programmed for such a feature. Trundle provided a measured syncopation with its squeaky frame covered in verdigris. Unconsciously, of course.

Such a musical event was outside the scope of their programming.