Starting of Hope: Including Rekindling of Hope and Consolidation of Hope

By Doug Lavers

With four books in the series, Doug decided to set up the stories in two paired texts that fit together naturally, Starting of Hope being the first.

Rekindling of Hope
This was drafted as a political commentary under the cloak of a science-fiction novel. Since it was written, some of the issues in the book are already in dramatic focus.

It is the year 2022. Planet Earth is in serious trouble, and an alien superintelligence called the Bearing has decided to intervene to stop humanity from imploding. The story traces the political and geophysical issues at play while following the emotional lives of three key people involved in the plan to avoid disaster and save mankind in this dramatic science-fiction novel.

A story of political warfare, shifting geographical and scientific schools of thought, sabotage, love, and a journey to worldwide reform, Rekindling of Hope promises nothing less than a spectacular view into the impending future of planet Earth, if completely new political and economic reforms cannot be achieved in time.

The book should be taken as a warning of what might happen if current political and economic problems are not addressed effectively.

Consolidation of Hope
Originating from an epic sci-fi thread that began with the Shepherd family in Rekindling of Hope, author Doug Laverss second book reaches beyond the ecopolitical realm of earth to explore the cosmic possibilities of the first generation of Shepherd successors. Consolidation of Hope, the second book of his Rejuvenation series, follows the personal development of the Shepherd twins, Katie and Tim, and the latters encounter with an aggressive species called the Calai.

Following on Rekindling of Hope, this book moves away from the local political action of the first book onto an interstellar stage. Peter, hidden ruler of the Melbourne institute, and his wife, Zoe, continue to deftly control the tide of events while trying desperately to stay in the background. Fortunately, their twin children, Tim and Katie, rapidly grow into positions where they become influential. Nearly two decades of relative peace and stability are threatened when an alien species, known as the Calai, approach Earth before a solar systemwide defensive shield can be completed. Brilliantly unfolding each eventful occurrence with thrilling pace, Lavers reveals how the conflict is handled with the help of the overarching intelligence known as the Bearing and the significant roles the twins played in achieving consensus in the thick of dispute.

It is a story of planning, character growth, drama, and new possibilities for the human race, Lavers says. It includes more ecology and, to some extent, less violence than most similar novels. It is a lively and interesting story, with significant dramatic and film possibilities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Mar 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482864595

Doug Lavers

An Oxford graduate and retired financial executive, author Doug Lavers used his wealth of knowledge and experience to write the Rejuvenation Series. After originally reading chemistry with a topic in solid-state physics for his thesis, Doug worked at a stock broker’s office for a several years before taking an MBA. He went on to work as an engineering cost analyst and later a money market dealer at Ford’s Research and Engineering Centre. He moved to the South Coast of England, where he met his wife, and the two relocated to Melbourne, Australia. Doug held a number of senior positions in the finance industry before becoming a financial planner. Now retired, he enjoys playing bridge, gardening, reading, travel, and debating green and ecological issues with his daughter.

Book preview

Acknowledgement

Design of the cover by Nick Root was greatly appreciated.

These books could never have been written without the tolerance of my wife, Gill.

Melbourne, March 2016.

Rejuvenation Series ©

Revised March 2016

REKINDLING

OF HOPE

Take this as a warning

Prelude

The communal intelligence known as the Bearing was considering a small water-based planet on an outer spiral arm of the galaxy. The promising major intelligent species of the planet had reached a sufficiently high level of technology to approach the star-faring threshold, but local conditions made it unlikely that its development would continue. In any case, xenophobic species were now inhabiting the galaxy in sufficient numbers to make it unlikely that any new species would achieve that threshold without being noticed and suppressed. The Bearing felt a need for a continuing flow of interesting new species to re-energize their community, and this appeared unlikely in these circumstances.

The Bearing decided to change their policy; they would intervene directly.

Chapter 1

Normality

Peter Wilson sighed, and relaxed back on the sofa. Having passed his seventieth birthday, he could look back on a relatively interesting life. At the beginning of his career, he had read chemistry at Oxford University for four years as a Rhodes Scholar from Australia. The final year of this course was the preparation of a thesis on an obscure organic material. He had debated with himself whether to complete a doctorate, but in the end a mixture of boredom and economic necessity forced him to start a career with a chemical company. It had provided some useful training, but a view that the grass was always greener somewhere else had led him to resign several years later and join an oil company as a graduate trainee.

The company had a policy of moving people around, and Peter soon found himself located in Stockholm.

He had not particularly liked the Swedes he had met – they seemed to be the embodiment of a cold Northern people. On reflection, he decided that it was perhaps his own arrogance showing, in that he always assumed they would speak English.

Following this thought logically, he decided to learn Swedish at some external classes provided at Stockholm University.

After his first class, he wandered down to the cafeteria for some refreshment.

Damn! he said, as he turned away from the counter and his coffee collided with the arm of a tall slim girl, showering down her dress.

I’m terribly sorry he said, deeply mortified, I’ll pay to have your dress cleaned or replaced.

The girl looked annoyed – it was amongst her few reasonable dresses – but relented on seeing the distress on his face.

She said, I need to visit the washroom for a few minutes to remove the worst of the stain.

The hint of a slightly impish smile appeared, "In the meantime, I like my coffee white with no sugar, together with a slice of orange cake!

We will discuss retribution when I return! My name is Irene Beckstrom. Please to introduce yourself?

Peter felt his spirits lift; he returned to the counter and ordered the suggested items, plus a refresh for his own coffee.

When Irene returned, the worst of the stains had been removed but her dress was quite damp. He discovered that she was a statistics and nutrition student, close to completing her course.

An hour or so later, he was shocked at how easily the time had passed.

I’m so sorry to have kept you here talking, Irene; you must have been quite uncomfortable in that damp dress. Please let me order a taxi and take you home.

On the way to the block of flats where she lived, he said slightly diffidently "I don’t know whether you’re interested, but there is a film on this weekend called ‘The Godfather’ which I would like to see. Would you be interested in coming as well?

If you would like that, please give me a call tomorrow. Here is a business card with my number on it.

Irene had actually seen the film, but decided that was not worth mentioning.

She took the card, and said demurely I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Peter.

Back in the small flat she asked her flatmate what ‘M.A. (Oxon)’ meant.

Her flatmate said with a smile, "I’m envious! You’ve obviously come across an Oxford graduate.

What’s he like?

*     *     *

Irene spent a long time grooming herself. She was ready quite a long time before Peter arrived on the Saturday afternoon to collect her at the front entrance of the block of flats where she lived. She was quite nervous when he arrived. So was her date.

After the film, he took her to an upmarket restaurant on the Stockholm waterfront. It had been a long time since she had been anywhere as good.

Over the next three months, Peter started taking her out regularly. She was coming up to her final examinations, and he noticed that she was starting to look quite strained.

He told her, As soon as you have finished your exams, we’ll go somewhere nice to celebrate!

She looked at him and smiled. I’ve got a better idea. You know I mentioned my parents have a farm in southern Sweden? They will be away then, with my baby sister.

She looked at him a little shyly. There is a small guest cabin by our lake.

*     *     *

They were married three months later.

Irene discovered that being the wife of an oil executive involved regular movement.

Travelling around from country to country, Peter began to acquire the background knowledge of countries which would stand him in good stead in the future.

His wife was enormously supportive, which was just as well as the job and sometimes the countries where they lived were quite stressful.

Talking to Irene one evening, he said "Darling, we have now lived in seven countries in fifteen years. Nearly all those countries are showing huge signs of stress, and if I was being pessimistic I would say the outlook is downright depressing.

Overpopulation, impoverishment and ill health are leading to the growth of extremism. I wonder where this is all going to end.

*     *     *

Perhaps fortunately for the couple, there were no children. Eventually they retired back to Melbourne.

The deciding factor was that her much younger sister Valerie Hertzberg had emigrated to Australia more than a decade previously.

Valerie now lived in the Dandenong Ranges on the edge of the town with her husband John and their ten-year-old daughter Zoë. Irene had little difficulty persuading Peter to buy a small house on a relatively large block close to her sister. Most of the area was covered with tall mountain ash trees, but the area around the house had been cleared for about fifty metres in every direction. Peter worried sometimes that a bad fire would take out the house, but well-located deciduous trees and a large sprinkler system had at least alleviated the risk.

To his terrible distress, two years later Irene suddenly died from a stroke. It took him nearly a year to regain some sense of balance. It was steady support from Irene’s family which had been a major contributor to this, and particularly from their daughter.

*     *     *

He finished a light lunch, and sat back on his sofa with his customary coffee, feeling quite sleepy.

His half-dozing thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on the front door, and a cheery Hi Grandad!

Zoë had arrived; she had discovered that Peter played chess, and having outclassed all the competition at the local school, felt that he was an excellent substitute to take her study of the game a little further. Personally, Peter felt that someone younger would be more fun for her, but he was happy to play with her. In actual fact, he enjoyed her company and her lively and intelligent personality. Although she had a serious disposition, when she relaxed she had an alarming ability to penetrate to the core of a question. Her description of some of the local politicians had been both insightful and funny. He doubted that some of the local papers’ columnists could have done a better job of character assassination. He suspected that her name for him—Grandad—was a subtle dig, uncle being a better description of his relationship to her.

Today, as usual, Zoë had bounced in and headed straight for the chessboard and its pieces. Placing them, she said, Black or white?

Half an hour later, most of the pieces on the board having been eliminated, Peter toppled his king.

Well played, Zoë. Either you are getting steadily better, or my brain is starting to atrophy!

Nonsense, Grandad, I just had a good opening and you never recovered. I think Dad took you on too long a walk this morning—he said you were limping slightly.

There was a faint sign of concern on her face, her big blue eyes looking at him seriously.

You might be right, Zoë. My knee and back were hurting a bit. I think my arthritis is definitely getting worse.

Peter put on some light classical music, which Zoë seemed to think was at least acceptable, and the conversation wandered off onto more important matters, such as who was going to win the football, and which local film would be worth seeing.

After she had left, at around four o’clock, Peter reflected that he had come to know her really well over the past three years. She had been surprisingly supportive when his wife had died; she and her parents had been a major factor in helping him recover from his initial shock and depression.

When Zoë arrived home, Valerie greeted her cheerfully, Did you have a good game?

Yes, Mum, although Grandad nearly got me. I trapped him in the end with a neat fork.

Valerie smiled. He really enjoys seeing you there. I suspect that the place is a bit too quiet for him.

Zoë looked thoughtful for a moment. I think you’re right, but I like being there. Unlike most grown-ups I know, he is easy to talk to. I think his views are a bit right wing sometimes, but he probably thinks mine are too green and left wing. Makes for good arguments!

As she watched Zoë disappear off to her room—her homework probably needed some attention—Valerie reflected that Peter seemed to be a good influence on her daughter. She wondered if Zoë’s increasing interest in maths and physics resulted from conversations with her uncle, and his careful attempts to explain why the natural world was so interesting. She had no fears for Zoë’s academic future—her daughter remained at the top of her class with seemingly little effort. In fact, she frequently complained of being utterly bored by the rate of progress of the class, and the sheer dimness of most of the students.

Her husband John had once remarked in his gruff Norwegian accent, Whichever poor sucker she settles on better be prepared to let her wear the trousers!

Valerie had laughed, but had the uncomfortable feeling that her husband was right.

Chapter 2

Intervention

The early morning sun rippled through passing mist on the front lawn as Peter prepared breakfast.

The weekend papers had been as gloomy as ever.

Since the collapse of the eurozone five years earlier, the world economy seemed to stagger from one crisis to the next. American recovery seemed to be stuttering, China and Brazil were growing slowly, but Europe appeared to be sinking deeper and deeper into an economic quagmire. Peter’s friends in England were increasingly gloomy on the phone; it was late November, but early snowstorms had already swept across the South. The decisions made by various governments a decade previously to turn electricity generation green were having the predictable, in Peter’s view, effect of destroying power reliability. At the time, he had felt that plans to rely on renewable energy were unsound, but the outcome had been even worse than he had expected. Brownouts and longer periods of electricity grid failure had become the norm. Many companies had been forced to build backup power generation at vast cost.

He wondered how it was all going to end. While Australia remained prosperous, still buoyed by the remnants of a minerals commodity boom and strong agricultural prices, he had underlying doubts about the country’s economic health.

However, he reflected ruefully, this was not likely to be a major concern to him. His trip to the doctor earlier that week had not been encouraging. He had been told bluntly that his years of fast living when he worked with the overseas oil company were now catching up with him, and his high blood pressure and damaged liver were causing serious problems. Since then he had thought a great deal about what he would do with his assets when he died. With no direct relatives apart from his wife’s family, he increasingly felt that Zoë should benefit. Valerie and John were comfortably off and did not appear to need any help.

He had had a long and serious discussion with his solicitor, and a will had been drawn up which set up a trust for Zoë’s benefit. The only stipulation had been a request that she preserve his music collection.

Hobbling a bit from his arthritis, Peter walked with his cereal and cup of tea across to the sofa. Over the years, he had developed the habit of reading the papers over breakfast with his feet on the low table next to it. Seating himself, he was about to sip his tea when he saw a bizarre glow appear on the sofa facing him. The glow was opaque and nothing was visible through it.

From within the glow, a voice began to speak, Peter, do not be alarmed. We are the Bearing, and we need to talk with you. We have taken the liberty of slightly tranquillizing you in order to stop any feelings of concern.

For a moment, Peter found himself unable to think coherently, and a little tea slopped out of his cup. He suspected that he was probably hallucinating, but thought he might as well play along with his imagination.

What…what are you?

We are an ancient collective life-form from elsewhere in the galaxy. Our technology is beyond that which is current on this planet. A simple comparison would be your technology compared to that of Ancient Rome, but in fact we are vastly beyond that. We regard your species as exciting and capable of great development. It has also shown itself capable of great evil, of course, but the two are inseparable.

Peter thought about this for a moment, as far as a growing sense of excitement and a multitude of questions would allow.

But why show yourself now, and to me?

"The answer to that is complicated, but in essence we feel compelled to intervene here, as otherwise your species will probably become extinct through a combination of the returning ice age and your own technological ability to destroy yourselves, even if other species do not intervene. We might add that intervention is something we only resort to when no alternative is apparent.

Vast pain for your species is inevitable, but we need to preserve a core that is capable of spreading and developing. Intelligent life is rare in the galaxy and has an inherent tendency to self-destruct. Nurturing of such intelligence is one of our prime philosophical tenets. To this end, we need to appoint agents. Although we are capable of imposing our will, ethically we believe that an element of local control needs to be retained. Every race has a right to a level of self-determination.

There was a silence in the room, as Peter absorbed what he had heard.

He decided that he was suffering quite a strange hallucination—it was altogether too real.

From this I assume I would be one of your agents?

The glow that was called the Bearing seemed to flicker slightly.

For us, you represent the result of a serious search. We needed to find someone intelligent with no particular ties, and with a wide enough experience to be capable of providing overall direction and planning. That person also needed to have high ethical standards and the ability to take hard decisions—an interesting and rare combination. Your background in the oil industry provided good training for the latter. In fact, you will not be one of the agents—you will be our main agent. We are planning to include two further members, but you will be, in your terminology, the chair.

An immediate objection to this occurred to Peter. But why choose me? I am at the end of my life, and I’m told that I have serious health issues. I’m unlikely to be around long to guide this process, even if I agree.

The Bearing replied, in a voice which seemed to suggest gentle amusement, Of course, we are fully cognizant of your condition. Our estimate is that if untreated, you will not survive for more than six months; in addition to your known ailments, you have just developed an aggressive sarcoma. We propose to arrange a convincing accident, and we will remove you to a large satellite Habitat, which will become your base. We will provide a complete health reconstruction. This will effectively return you to the apparent age of about eighteen, but we will also incorporate some improvements. These will leave you immune to local infection and will greatly extend your expected lifetime. However, the process will take about three months, and you will be unconscious for part of this period. It is quite…stressful…and unfortunately you will lose some memories. Regenerating neurons necessarily means that some information will be lost.

Peter stared at the strange entity in front of him. It was clearly no natural phenomenon, and there seemed every logical reason to accept that it told the truth, provided he was not simply hallucinating. After a few moments he said, How long have I got to make a decision, and is it possible to know more before I make such a decision?

The Bearing flickered again. For the first part, the answer is that time is short. There are political currents flowing on your world which are capable of causing extreme destruction, and we need to get a process in place to forestall those currents. For the second question, you have a large amount to learn, but you already have all the information you need to make a decision.

Peter paused. He felt that he had always possessed an intuitive sense of rightness, and this felt… right.

Well, in that case, I…tentatively…agree. When do we get started?

The Bearing said, Now, and Peter felt his consciousness fading.

Chapter 3

Habitat

There was pain everywhere, and a sense of suffocation and muffling. A distant voice said, Peter, it is time to wake up, and something or somebody was gently shaking him. His eyes opened blearily, and he saw he was in a dimly lit room almost devoid of any features apart from the bed on which he lay. A light-coloured object shaped like a giant rugby ball hovered over him. Its two pipe-like appendages ended in hands, which were gently shaking him.

His throat felt terribly dry and sore, but he managed to mumble, Where am I?

A clear female voice with no perceptible accent issued from the ball, answering, You are in the satellite Habitat, and you have just completed the first phase of your rejuvenation. You are in poor physical condition, and you need extensive exercise and physiotherapy to redevelop weakened functions.

Peter looked down; his hands and arms appeared soft and bleached, and the freckles, lines, and scars which he remembered were no longer visible. He appeared completely hairless. He tried moving slightly, and realized most of his strength was gone.

Do you have a name? he asked.

You may call me anything you like—I am a remote extension of the artificial intelligences which operate the Habitat.

Peter’s faint sense of the ridiculous came to the fore. Slightly facetiously, he said, How about Sheila?

That is acceptable. I see that your Australian heritage has not deserted you completely.

Peter paused for a moment. He could probably accept an artificial intelligence, or AI, as some sort of computer, but a computer with a sense of humour was clearly something else. While he was considering, the entity called Sheila said, I am bringing some liquid refreshment. Please drink it slowly, and then I will assist you to rise and clothe yourself.

He was about to say But I’m too weak to rise, when he felt his weight lessen. A small hatch opened on the wall opposite, and the entity he had named Sheila floated across to pick up a bowl of what appeared to be thick soup, and an attached spoon. Another hatch opened containing lightweight clothes and a pair of slippers.

Perhaps you could give me a hand then, Sheila.

*     *     *

Ten days later, Peter was beginning to feel much better. Sheila had insisted on an incremental exercise regime every day, and he had noticed that gravity on the satellite had been steadily increasing towards Earth normal.

On the first day, he had asked how the satellite was constructed. Sheila explained that it consisted of four silvery spheres in a tetrahedral shape. Each sphere was approximately 1.5 kilometres in diameter and was connected via three thick tubes about a kilometre long to each of the others. There were three hemispherical bulges about 150 metres in diameter placed equatorially around each of the spheres. Apparently the silvery composite mainly used for construction, was an order of magnitude harder than any metal known on earth, and almost impervious to radiation. There were entry ports at what might be described as the north and south poles of each sphere, which irised open and shut.

Sheila had hesitantly admitted that each sphere contained its own intelligence, and she was a composite of all four. When Peter had asked about the three large bulges on each sphere, she had responded primly, Weaponry. Each of the spheres was effectively self-sufficient with manufacturing, storage, and living areas. There was a shuttle bay which held craft ranging in size from the equivalent of small shuttles to 150 metre craft. The latter were independent spacecraft. All were powered by what Sheila described as fold space fusion generators.

Sheila, you mean all of this structure is just for me to live in? he had asked in some astonishment.

"Well, the Bearing thought that you should be well supplied for all eventualities. They do not need material accessories as they mostly exist in what we call fold space."

Peter thought about this for a moment. "What do you mean, fold space?"

This is an extra dimension. Your species is not aware of its existence, but it enables movement from one locality to another provided basic energy differences are supplied, and can also be used as a location in its own right. It has other properties which are useful.

As the days passed, Peter realized that his body was totally changed. The familiar aches and pains had disappeared, and hair regrowth showed no sign of grey whatsoever. His vision was much sharper, and his memory and thinking processes were greatly improved, although he had a little difficulty in remembering some features of his earlier life. He felt…very well. A few days after his awakening, he had asked what had occurred.

Sheila paused for a moment, which seemed unusual. The AI normally responded immediately to questions.

"Peter, first of all, your internal functions have been optimized. Your muscles are approximately 30 per cent more efficient than the norm for your species, and your cell physiology has been rearranged. Your bone structure has been modified and strengthened.

Your apparent age has been reduced to about eighteen years, and your neural functions have been totally refurbished. Unfortunately, as the Bearing mentioned, this involved a slight memory loss as repaired and regrown neurons are not totally efficient in maintaining previous memories. You will no longer suffer human diseases.

No illness at all? Peter asked.

No. Moreover you will maintain your current status for an extended period.

Peter did not have the nerve to ask what extended meant. He was still curious about the Bearing, however, and asked Sheila to tell him more about them.

Again, Sheila paused for a moment. Peter was beginning to realize that hesitation meant she was formulating an answer to a question which might have unexpected layers of difficulty.

"The Bearing are the overarching intelligence of this galaxy. They dematerialized into fold space many eons ago. You do not appreciate the privilege you received in interacting directly with them. Within the approximately 300 billion stars of this galaxy, there are about one billion stars with planets containing life of some sort. Within this assemblage there are nearly one million planets with low-level sentience. Higher-level intelligences only operate on about one thousand planets. Unfortunately, high-level intelligence does not appear to be generally compatible with long-term species survival. Self-destruction or dramatic changes in the physical state of the planet—for example, large-scale volcanoes, meteorites, or ice ages—tend to destroy intelligent emerging species even if others do not intervene.

"The Bearing have decided that they need to nurture more promising species.

They are not cruel, but they take a long-term view of life forms. They will not stop wars or the enslaving of one species by another. The Bearing believe that fitness to survive is important, and species need to be stressed. They view slavery as a transient state—it is not efficient economically, and the slaver species tends to become lazy, and their civilization fails. However, genocide of a defeated species is totally abhorrent. The database with which I have been provided indicates that three species have attempted genocide on another sentience, despite a warning from the Bearing to desist.

Peter said, What happened?

The home stars of the species concerned turned nova. Members of the species who were located elsewhere died.

Peter ordered himself a coffee and sat down in the small living room, which he had adopted as a daytime casual base. After thinking these comments over for a few minutes, he asked, Do many of the intelligent species know about the Bearing, and what do they think of them?

Sheila replied, "About half. Generally those species are in total awe of the Bearing, and regard the rare instructions or requests which they receive as completely binding, possibly partly due to the comment about disobedient species which I made earlier. Some species have had no interaction for hundreds of years. Species which ignore suggestions from the Bearing generally disappear after a period, and there are only a handful of those remaining.

Anyhow, it is time for you to return to the study of the functions of the satellite.

*     *     *

Meanwhile, back on Earth planetary affairs were beginning to deteriorate rapidly.

Harvests in the Northern Hemisphere and the Near East varied between poor and disastrous. In countries used to readily available overseas supplies of food, governments were starting to realize that their sources of supply were drying up. Starvation loomed for many populations.

Zero or negative economic growth rates were being reported in many countries, even in the cases of those at the relatively prosperous end of the economic spectrum. Crime rates and unemployment were rising everywhere. A sense of hopelessness was beginning to engulf many countries.

Sheila wondered when she should appraise Peter of the disasters gathering pace on the planet below.

Chapter 4

The Reserve

After another week of exercise and study, Peter realized that his sense of curiosity was returning, and he wondered what was occurring back on Earth.

I had not realized that the Bearing would take action as quickly as they did when I agreed to become involved, he told Sheila. Can you give me a quick summary of what happened next back home?

Sheila replied, Let me show you a recording of how your notional death was arranged.

A screen appeared on the wall opposite, and Peter saw his car with what appeared to be a copy of him driving down the steep road towards Ferntree Gully. It had been raining, and as he went round a corner he saw the car slide and go over the edge. It hit a large tree, burst into flames, and exploded.

The police and ambulance crews arrived, but it was clear that little was left of the car or Peter’s fake self.

Valerie, John, and Zoë had appeared shortly afterwards. While John looked sad, both Valerie and Zoë were crying. They hung around for a little while, but once they were told that the car was totally destroyed with Peter inside, they returned home.

Daddy, how could this possibly happen? Zoë asked. Peter was such a safe driver, and he would have known the road was slippery.

I’m terribly sorry, darling, but these things happen, John replied gruffly, his Norwegian accent more evident than normal. At least Peter died quickly.

The recording moved on to a quick pan of the funeral, and what Peter felt were quite moving obituaries from some of his old friends. Strangely, Zoë looked quite composed at the funeral. Valerie had apparently noticed this; Peter could hear her mention it to her daughter.

Mum, it’s quite strange, but I don’t feel that Peter has gone, Zoë replied. It seems quite silly, but something keeps on telling me that he hasn’t really gone away. Anyway, I don’t seem to be able to feel sad.

Peter thought about this, then remarked to Sheila, I don’t suppose you had anything to do with what Zoë said, did you Sheila?

Guilty, Peter. I didn’t feel it was right that Zoë should suffer, so I undertook a little subliminal conditioning.

The recording then moved to a couple of months later, when the Hertzbergs were meeting the solicitor whom Peter had commissioned to handle his will and probate. They clearly had few expectations, and were surprised when they discovered that Peter had left all his estate to a trust with Zoë as primary beneficiary. The terms of the will were read out by the solicitor, prompting Zoë to ask, Sir, could you please explain to me what this means in simple words?

The solicitor paused for a moment and then said, "Basically, a long-term trust has been set up, and once you turn twenty-one, you will have access to all the income from a conservatively managed trust. In the meantime, it is up to you whether you sell or keep Peter’s house in the Dandenongs and the possessions in it. There is also a provision in the will that the trust should pay all educational expenses and give you a living allowance during the term of that education even if it means drawing down capital.

Another provision states that if your parents need money for certain conditions, such as serious medical expenses, for example, the trust will cover those as well. There is also a request that the music collection be preserved.

There was a pause while the Hertzbergs considered the comments, and then John said, This sounds like a sensibly constructed will. I hope that Zoë will take full advantage of the educational provisions.

The solicitor then remarked that there was no need for Zoë to make any immediate decision on Peter’s house, and the family left.

Sheila asked Peter, Did the recording cover the main points you wanted?

Yes, I think so, he replied. I assume Zoë has decided to keep the house—I know she liked it.

Yes. A week or so later she wrote to the solicitor to that effect.

Peter felt a sense of relief for some reason. Although it seems absurd, I am quite pleased about that, especially as it means she will keep hold of my music collection!

There was silence for a moment, and then Sheila remarked, You realize of course that there is no reason why you should not return to live in Melbourne. We can invent a new identity, and my remotes can make sure all the relevant data points that the authorities might check are complete.

Peter was startled—it had not occurred to him that he could simply abandon living in the satellite Habitat and return to Earth to live a near-normal lifestyle.

That’s a great idea—but how would it interact with my role of being a sort of overseer for the planet? And how would I easily contact you?

Sheila made a noise that sounded just like a chuckle, and said, Like this, perhaps?

There was a soft meow from the door, and a Siamese cat padded in. It was mostly grey with silvery guard hairs; the legs, the tip of the tail, and the face and ears were black. It leaped onto the table, and then Peter’s lap. It meowed again, and then surprised him by saying in a soft, Sheila-like voice, I don’t need to be far away. You probably noticed that I am slightly catty by nature anyhow. If we need to go somewhere, I can always slink back into fold space.

The cat persona then did a credible imitation of the disappearance of a Cheshire cat, its smile the last part to go.

A moment later it reappeared, sitting on the table. You should also be aware that I can operate both defensive and offensive weaponry on your behalf, it said. "I can instantly create a fold space shield for you, or transfer you elsewhere if necessary. Alternatively, I can operate a fairly powerful laser weapon from one of my claws.

If you go travelling, my coming along will be no trouble whatsoever. By the way, I am quite fond of being stroked, and I think your bed will make an excellent residence at night.

Sheila then jumped onto his lap and purred happily.

*     *     *

Peter slept relatively well that night, although having a cat snuggle against useful body curves took a little getting used to. He quickly realized that Sheila (the cat version) had filled a gap in his life—he was beginning to feel lonely. After breakfast, Sheila had leapt onto the arm of the sofa and sat there looking at him while licking a paw. Blue eyes were regarding him intently, and he wondered what was coming next.

I…have a suggestion to make, for this morning. If you would come with me for a short walk, I have something to show you.

Peter was a little puzzled by this, as he had been studying the specifications for the satellite Habitat for several days, and thought he knew most of the principal features.

Okay, when you are ready.

The cat leapt off the sofa and headed for the door, clearly intending him to follow. They walked for about fifteen minutes, then came to a large door which swung open as they approached. Peter walked through, and halted in some astonishment.

In front of him was a large domed area about a kilometre across. It was quite rugged with a mixture of low hills, grassland, and forest, and sloped down to a lake about 150 metres across roughly in the centre. A stream ran into it, rushing over a small waterfall.

Do you like it? Sheila asked hesitantly. I thought you needed something a little less artificial than where you were staying.

Peter said nothing for a few moments. A lump rose in his throat as he realized that the entity he called Sheila seemed to have a real concern for him.

Thank you, Sheila. It’s absolutely wonderful. I think we should wander around for a little while and look at it.

He spent the rest of the morning tramping over the wilderness area. The equivalent of sunshine was provided by a shining hemisphere, which moved slowly over the top of the dome. Vegetation was a mixture of European forest—oaks, beeches, and conifers—interspersed with the occasional eucalypt. The stream ran through several small pools set with low cliffs before running into the main lake. Just before that it divided, with one section running over a set of rapids and the other going over a little waterfall about three metres high. Peter had been alarmed when what appeared to be a tiger snake had slithered away from him, and all the other wildlife was familiar, too. He saw lorikeets, kookaburras, black cockatoos, and other birds. Sheila told him that there were also wallabies, pademelons, lyrebirds, and roe deer as well as some other smaller mammals and lizards. Insects were certainly present, and he noticed several bees on a flowering cherry.

I see you included some insect life, Sheila.

The cat entity gave a little laugh. When I considered the design of this Habitat, it became clear that maintaining a more or less self-sustaining ecology would be quite difficult. Apart from purely mechanical issues like varying the temperature and moving water back to the top of the stream, there are more subtle problems, like the return of sediments to the top of the basins and rubbish removal. The latter require a reasonable supply of certain species, including objectionable ones, such as flies, slugs, snails, and termites. Without them, vegetation and other debris accumulate rapidly. Predators are required to make sure small mammals and reptiles do not become overly populous, which explains why there are several species of snake in this environment. There also need to be a number of leaf-consuming insects.

Peter thought about this for a moment. Yes, I thought it was a tiger snake that I saw. I’m surprised you allow those characters here.

There are more predators here than tiger and black snakes, Sheila replied. "The Habitat was also seeded with a few powerful owls and lace monitors. The monitors will grow to about two and a half metres in time, and are really quite formidable—a bit like small crocodiles on land. I drew the line at mosquitoes and certain biting insects, however. There was no particular reason to include them in the mix.

"There are also trout, several smaller freshwater fish species, marron, and yabbies in the waterways.

However, you can be quite certain that the snakes and monitors will not be allowed to bite you or any visitors, and they will be discouraged from going into certain areas."

Tramping on a bit further, Peter found a rugged piece of terrain through which the small stream ran. A rocky cliff face, a small cave, and a sand beach bordered a pool that appeared quite deep, although not particularly large.

Swimming time, I think, Sheila! While I am in, perhaps your feline Majesty could organize a towel and a bit of something to eat?

The cat meowed and stretched out on a sunny spot. Arriving soon, Peter.

*     *     *

Later on, as he came back towards the entrance with Sheila on his shoulder, Peter said, This is an absolutely beautiful spot, Sheila. Would it be possible to arrange for a little cabin in front of the lake, and make a sand beach there as well? I think I will feel really comfortable living here.

Sheila gave another little laugh. I hear and obey, O Master! It should be done by tomorrow.

Peter wondered a bit about the O Master. The servant-master relationship seemed questionable, and he had a growing suspicion that the super intelligence represented by the AIs was quite capable of subtle and not-so-subtle manipulation.

The following day, Sheila took Peter back to the Habitat.

Where there had been an expanse of grassland near the lake, there was now a rough wooden cabin with a chimney and a deck sheltered by a wide overhang. In front there was a small fireplace and barbecue, next to a pile of roughhewn firewood under a shelter. A broom, a rake, and an axe leaned against the wall near a pair of light chairs. The lake, which had acquired a white sandy beach, appeared to deepen more quickly than before. A jetty ran out into the lake, with a beaten-up dinghy attached by a rope.

Inside the cabin, Peter discovered a small lounge area with a kitchen and fireplace, a bedroom with a king size made up bed, cupboards and drawers, and a bathroom. The kitchen appeared well-equipped, and there was a small cat flap in the back door. The lounge had an old settee and two comfortable chairs with accompanying poufs. A rough bookcase appeared to contain duplicates of all the books in his old house.

He was speechless for moment. Then he exclaimed, How on earth did you manage this so quickly, Sheila? The cabin looks as if it has been here forever!

Sheila said, "I looked at an area in Gippsland about 150 kilometres East of Melbourne and spotted the perfect setup. I simply duplicated it, although the materials used are not the same as the original. Deepening the lake and adding sand were just mechanical! A few improvements to the machinery were required, but that was straightforward.