By dint of accidental observation in behavior, it became apparent that something unexpected had occurred as a result of this increased complexity. With study, it was discovered that the android DNA-gel brain had acquired consciousness. They had become self-aware. This event launched a massive research effort into the significance and implications of a syntheticaly-produced intelligence able to learn on its own with only the basic rules of logic ingrained into its substrate. Additionally infused was a code of conduct that superceded cultural differences, it set the rules for how human beings were to be treated--what was not permitted. Also imposed was an instinct for personal survival. How these two modules intersected demonstrated the activity of a deep moral decision-making process; something that was a purely subjective endeavor; the result of which was unpredictable. Its hard memory consisted of all knowledge from the list of world-celebrated digital libraries and museums. Previously operating within the rigid, mechanical confines of a mineral matrix running artificial intelligence, the advent of a synthetic protoplasmic environment capable of growing synaptic interconnections on its own created the milieu for the android brain to become curious--it wanted to understand.

But Jonathan had lost his enthusiasm for such inquiry, not bothering to keep abreast of any breakthroughs, ignoring his colleagues attempts to enlist his aid and offers of collaboration on hypotheses that might lead to more sophisticated, practical outcomes and expansion of the possibilities of the android brain. His sense of loss had robbed him of passion; he'd dropped off the radar.

His interests had focused mainly on the threshold, the critical value, that gave birth to self-awareness and sense of separate selfhood. Even now, in the early 23rd century, what lay at the base of this phenomenon for living things like humans was only guessed at, a matter of controversial speculation. He believed, however, that something constructed out of the imagination of Man, a thing devoid of the actual nature of life, would readily reveal the instrument of emergence. But as with humans, the more deeply he probed into the android protoplasmic matrix and its genetic expression, the more mysterious and elusive the object became. What particular set of circumstances or conditions had immediately preceded the instant of appearance, the moment when the droid developed a soul? What pattern of interconnections set the stage for independent thought? When and how did attention turn back in on itself--reflect? These types of questions no longer intrigued him.

He'd been contacted by the Colonial Administration concerning problems they were having with android workers on a planet at the farthest reaches of the frontier. Three other academics knowledgeable in the field of android architecture and neural network design had already been asked. They had experience with colonial life, their budding governments and fledgling agencies struggling for control and stability, trying to assert their authority for the good of the whole. They knew how to deal with nascent societies with their newfound customs and diverse lifestyles reminiscent of the wild west. But they were all occupied by their own endeavors, obligated by committment and purpose. They recommended Jonathan, pointing out that he had introduced some of the more fundamental ideas and guiding principles in the field. A founding father of the science. Nonetheless, he had not been contacted initially because he had no offworld experience. Content and satisfied with his Earth-bound life, he never had a desire to leave; his field work consisted of problems incurred on Earth. But now, things had changed. The rug had been pulled out from under him; he wanted out and he grasped at the chance.

The expansion had found a planet in the Near Sagittarius Arm, close to the inner edge of galactic habitability, and were in the final stages of terraforming. Settlements, mining operations, and infrastructure were already well on their way. And then something went wrong.

There was no colony farther from Earth. On impulse and recognizing he had to do something to break free of his morose state of mind, had to get away from memories that haunted him day and night, he accepted their offer. As a tenured professor he had no difficulty receiving a leave of absence; it was, after all, an actual sabbatical, field work in a remote part of the colonial neighborhood. Moreover, colleagues and friends believed it would be for the best and encouraged him. His class load was distributed amongst the department and his research project handed over to his graduate students. They'd been doing most of the work anyhow. He was freed of all earth-bound responsibilities.

His bags packed, he walked about the house, out in the garden--her garden--which he'd kept up, sat on the bench where they often did in the summer evenings, sipping lemonade and joking with one another. And their discussions, the bizzare things they found interesting together, would go on all evening until the stars came out. Then they would hold one another against the night chill, a light blanket around them, and gaze at the sky.

Two of his research assistants needed a place away from the hubbub of campus life. What they were working on demanded quiet surroundings and more space than a dorm room. As well, he opened his lab in the garage for their use; they were overjoyed. He trusted them and they assured him the garden would be maintained and the house well-cared for. There would be the occasional celebrative party--exams over with, a paper published, a birthday--he knew this too, he was once a graduate student himself. It didn't concern him. He welcomed the youthful energy that would be reverberating throughout. The house and garden needed to be rejuvenated, its sad emanations dispelled, wiped clean. He turned the keys over, stood in front of the house just outside the white picket fence to take it all in one last time, then stepped into the magcab and set out for colonial spaceport.

Officially classified as Sagittarius HZ-Prime, the inhabitants called it Bailey's Horizon, or just Horizon, in honor of the first human casualty, killed in a terraforming accident. The star was a K-spectral class, a medium shade of orange in color, one-third the radius of Earth's sun and half the mass with a projected life span of fifteen billion years. The system was composed of eight planets with an unknown number of moons. Horizon, the fourth one out from the sun, had two moons of different sizes. The larger one was twice as far as the smaller. Despite being in the middle of the habitable zone with the necessary requisites--a magnetosphere, an atmosphere, and liquid water--no lifeforms of any kind had been detected. To date, only the next planet farther out, also within the life-supporting zone, had been given a cursory survey. Raw materials of common value were plentiful, but it too was devoid of life. Given the history of exploration thus far, this occurrence was unprecedented. The higher-ups in the colonial administration believed something catastrophic must've happened long ago; a nearby gamma ray burst or supernova could have extinguished all life. The three outer planets were gas giants. Effort was being concentrated on bringing Horizon up to optimal conditions, and so a more thorough inspection would have to wait.

Androids were too valuable to waste on physical labor, so they were assigned managerial and oversight jobs as well as the more complex technological applications. This convention put them in the position of knowing everything that was going on, from the import of building materials, equipment, tools, and personnel, along with all the other necessary supplies the populace needed or requested, to the current status of worldwide terraforming and mining operations. Developing and maintaining the infrastructure as well fell under their purview. Thousands were scattered all over the Mars-size planet. More efficient, better organized, and focused only on the job at hand, they exceeded human capacity. And above all, they were incapable of dishonesty. They cared not for politics or economic gain. They did their jobs, focusing on the practical requirements towards the desired outcome, an outcome beneficial to all, whatever it may be in any particualr context. Their approach, in general, was pragmatic and no nonsense, to say the least.

The trip through quantum space would take several days. Jonathan stayed in his stateroom, enjoying the peace and solitude and the feeling of having cut the lines at the dock. The reports on the nature of the problem with the androids on Sagittarius HZ-Prime didn't tell him very much, not the kind of information he needed. He would be better versed after having a chance to interview everyone involved, including the androids. The way his mind worked when problem solving was predominately intuitive, guided by the mathematics of the possible. In other words, what appeared at first glance to be irrelevant data oftentimes turned out to be the primary cause, or, at least, a factor to be dealt with and understood.

Along those lines he'd requested anything unusual that they'd discovered, novel force field behavior, spatial or temporal anomolies, new materials whose nature as yet was not fully ascertained. He found one report amongst his stack of information that fit that bill. Mining operations were underway. A new element, a mineral not found on Earth, with peculiar and exotic properties drew the most attention. Preliminary analysis found its crystalline morphology unlike any produced by nature on Earth or fabricated through DNA nanoparticle design. The overall pattern propagated by the unit cell created by the atomic lattice repeats on smaller and smaller scales until reaching a single molecular crystal, the basic template and seed. The electrostatic properties continually vary after an unspecifiable, but extremely brief, time. This web of interconnecting paths between atoms only rarely repeat, encompassing the whole of the sample or, alternately, any of its similar sub-networks. It pointed to the conclusion that the base molecules, or lattice nodes, connect in a way other than physical, operating collectively and interdependently, as though governed by a morphogenetic field. In repeated experiments, an individual face of a crystal was artificially fractured. At once, all the surrounding crystals generated fractures on the opposite face as though compensating to balance the effect towards a symmetry of forces. This transformation rippled throughout the sample regardless of size or shape.

He was no expert in crystallography, so the more technical chemical and structural information went over his head. It didn't matter, he was looking for behavioral features that appeared to regulate the inner workings of the material. Placing a holocube in the table-top projector, X-rayed holographs appeared over it. They depicted a complex, 3-D symmetry. As they slowly turned on their vertical axis, at varying angles of perception a new symmetrical arrangement was revealed, clean of any impurities or deformations, each reflecting a perfectly ordered inner lattice structure, like turning a kaleidoscope. This mineral, dark-greenish in surface coloration, yet to be assigned an official geologic name, appeared to live internally in an almost infinite dimensional space. As well, its surface possessed the properties of a protective membrane, remaining coherent at temperatures above any mineral found on Earth, resisting meltage and maintaining crystal integrity.

On the surface, the walls between cells don't break down; in fact, they appear to get stronger as if something happening on the quantum level reverberated up to the macro, indicating a perfectly nested resonance hierarchy.

Additionally, its asymmetrical proclivity seemed to be the cause or origin of its flawless assemblage.

He had yet to investigate the android problem, whatever it was, but he'd learned from problem solving on Earth to take the anomalous into consideration, regardless of how distant it might seem. He had a nose for the common denominator and for cause and effect no matter how isolated from one another each may appear, he could feel it. Factors external to the android brain could effect aberrant behavioral patterns. Their brains were susceptible to material emanations, hyper-velocity radiations, and extremes of various energy fields. So thinking it best to wait until he was on-site to do his own assessing, he bypassed the report on android behavior. Written by a layman's hand, he didn't want to waste time influenced by a predisposed view that may only be an imaginary interpretation based on a superficial knowledge. Plus, he learned, interpreters often mingle their own personal perceptions into what is supposedly an objective account. He scanned them quickly, however, for violent or anti-social inclinations--a symptom of breakdown or corruption of the inherent moral rules, but found none.

Weary of reading and staring beguiled at the holograms of micrographs, he left his cabin to wander the decks of the huge transport ship. Colonial transports were built to not only carry passengers reasonably comfortably, but also cargo: supplies, building materials, equipment, agricultural necessities, and always a constant flow of medicines and medical instruments. By chance, he found his way to the main lounge and circular bar, tables and chairs were everywhere as were people of every stripe, engaged in conversation for the most part. People around the bar chattered to one another. He saw colonial administration officials, terraforming engineers, enviroscientists whose job it was to guide the process, miners, technicians, builders, and a smattering of colonists intent on homesteading and helping with the final stages of development. They were dressed reminiscent of pictures he'd seen in museums of the frontier people in old America. What courage, he thought. To leave all the familiar behind, to take a chance, to choose adventure.

He sat at the bar near a group of pioneer folks and ordered a scotch on the rocks. The bar was a good twenty feet in diameter, but that didn't stop people from talkiing to one another, loud though it be. Eavesdropping was not a problem. Official reports about the planet, its government, institutions, types of working facilities, quality of hospitals, and status of infrastructure gave him one point of view, but what he was looking for was anecdotal knowledge. Stories and accounts filtered back to Earth through the grapevine. Events happening without any reasonable explanations were the stuff of memorable stories, some destined to become legends. These people, these brave explorers of the distant stars, were laying down the mythopoeic groundwork for a budding civilization. But right now, they were just curiosities to be brought up for conversation's sake.

Down to earth, day to day life with all its vicissitudes and nuances thereof spelled out in anecdotes and yarns, sometimes obviously embellished for emphasis sake, were not what you're likely to run into reading an official report. The overview, yes, that's important, it renders a framework and constrains and defines the possible available avenues of creative living. But at the other end, there are niches to be made and linked to one another to form a society, a culture. One must get one's hands dirty to fully identify with one's community, regardless of scope.

Across from him sat a couple talking quietly. Smiling, they suddenly burst out laughing at what one of them said, then made a showy display of clinking glasses and drank. He smiled at their enjoyment and play. He recalled how he and his wife used to act that way, just for the fun of it. Suddenly feeling heavy from his third drink, the studying, and now a memory unbidden, he returned to his stateroom for a nap. The quiet now was no longer pleasant or even satisfying; it was too quiet, devoid of life. But soon, he'll be on planet Horizon and placid surroundings would become a distant memory.

The bustling colonial spaceport on Horizon was not what anyone might call cosmopolitan. The walkways leading to the single-story port bulding were dirt and gravel and inside was bare-walled, unfinished in areas. A patina of dust covered most surfaces and the air-conditioning rattled above the din of people milling about. Two massive arrival and departure boards hung in the middle. Overwhelmed, Jonathan, somewhat embarrassed by his naivete, was surprised to realize that travel to this world wasn't limited to Earth only, but other planet-colonies were also engaged in transport of goods and people. A network of planetary hubs was slowly growing, expanding outward from Earth.

Canvas and natural-fiber clothing outnumbered the newer synthetic fabrics by far. Boxes and duffel bags stacked precariously on squeeky carts rolled by. An adjoining building housed a retaurant, bar, and restrooms. Announcements were loud and tinny and seemed to come from everywhere. As he neared the front doors, the pitter-patter of rain could be heard on the flat roof. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, he reminded himself that weather control equipment would not be installed until after the final stage was completed.

His luggage of clothing and a few boxes of books and other assorted things were to be delivered to his new address. He carried a shoulder-bag containing paperwork and holocubes with him. Pulling the heavy door open, he stepped outside and was greeted by a colonial official holding a sign with Jonathan's name on it. He welcomed him with a warm smile and led him to a waiting magcar. The main streets were covered with asphalt, but the rest were gravel and mud, lots of mud. People crossed huge puddles using wide boards as bridges. After a time, the rain slowed and, as the dark clouds began to part, a greenish-blue sky poked out in spots. When they arrived at the administration's guest house, the sky had mostly cleared. The two-story house and window frames were a faded chocolate brown; the windows themselves were in depserate need of cleaning. He sidestepped a few puddles on the stony path and, while the official unlocked the door, took in the narrow porch running the entire front of the house. Over it was a roof supported by posts, and between them, a wood railing. Slatted chairs with arms sat at either end, and in front of a large window, a swing couch. None looked as though they'd been used for some time, dust and grit covered the plastic cushions, blurring their colorful floral pattern.

Inside, past the vestibule, he entered a well-furnished living room complete with old-fashioned beige wallpaper on which was imprinted the outline of light-red roses spaced apart at regular intervals. A plush over-stuffed sofa and two recliner chairs surrounded a hardwood coffee table, a tiny blue vase at its center. Lamps on side tables were well-adorned with festive shades; the patterned rug's background was a deep burgundy, faded in spots.

The rest of the house he quickly inspected, the official pointing things out as they went, especially in the small but tidy kitchen in back. Through its windows he could see a porch and beyond, a yard. On the second floor his bedroom was in the back, a glass door led to a balcony overlooking the garden in dire need of care, a stunted plum tree off to one side was attempting to flower. When Jonathan pointed out the garden's condition, the official explained that soil and fertilizer had been brought in, as an experiment more than anything, but the inorganic nutrients and organisms that processed them had not been replenished.

The primary feature of the final stage was agricultural requirements. Special sites were prepared for the introduction of macrofauna, such as: earthworms, grubs, slugs, mole crickets, ants, and mites, which, it was expected, would proliferate and spread to other less-cultivated ecosystems around the world. The idea, of course, is to create an environment capable of generating, sustaining, and growing food. All kinds of food, from wheat and corn to apples and nuts. Without a successful transition to a matrix adapted for the producion of life-giving plants, this whole exercise falls on its face and the planet is reduced to just another supply-dependent mining colony. The rate at which the sequence occurs--one step ends, another begins--was happening more and more quickly now, which is why an army of enviroscientists were moving in, to monitor and decide what needs to be done in a precise, meticulous, calculated manner. Procedure and specialized tactics--dependent on topography and other associated factors--would be scrutinized as the next steps were determined by a consensus of experienced terraforming strategists. Processing the atmosphere and preparing the ground to be transformed into soil by the addition of the necessary elements and the removal of those that might react in a detrimental way to the new ecosystem was mostly mechanical. Not all is ever foreseen, however, the unpredictable is always lurking just ahead. Corrections often need to be made on the fly. Models were static approximations only, the enviro tech's job was to refine them to a messy reality dynamically, ever mindful of the fact that the planet itself was the ultimate determiner of the course of events. An unknown factor. Unseen variables are always at play, any set of which or one might push things into a novel and undesired direction, or worse, precipitate an emergent complexity no one had ever seen before. And with increased interdependence--nonlinearity can almost be counted on to cause unanticipated effects.

Jonathan knew almost nothing about terraforming. Yes, he was aware of as much as your average person, a general understanding, but the technical details and mathematical relationships had never drawn his interest. He'd spent his academic life immersed in the problems and development of the environment for an android brain that operated as similarly to the human brain as scientific knowledge would allow, given the materials they had to work with. An artificially produced protoplasmic gel infused with microbes engineered to perform as neurons in order to replicate the activity of actual synaptic behavior was as close as he'd come. The underlying operating system contained in strands of DNA residing within the chemical arrangement of bonded genetic sequences embedded in the organic substrate, with its unique electromagnetic and quantum patterning properties, had hardwired into it--ingrained, as it were--the irreducible principles of order, logic, and regulation. This was as far away from terraforming a dead alien planet into something earth-like as one could get.

Moving forward down the narrow hall, he appraised the bathroom with a cursory nod and entered the study. In front of a side window over which was a sheer white-curtain allowing for plenty of light, a large hardwood desk sat, behind which was a comfortable-looking high-backed chair. Bookshelves lined the wall on both sides of the window as well as on the opposite wall. At the back end a settee and two cushioned chairs sat on a dark red rug, a coffee table stood in the center, and instead of a bookshelf, there was a cream-colored marble mantlepiece over a gas fireplace, fake wood neatly stacked. He examined the books on the shelves and was pleased to see certain classics in android architecture and design along with a couple of favorites on DNA-gel neural networks. One, in fact, included an article by him from his early days of research and discovery. He'd brought holocubes containing more up-to-date information and schematics; he doubted the colonial administration's android overseers possessed such or were even aware of the latest breakthroughs. He knew what he needed, at least in the beginning, and if necessary, would have any shortcomings sent to him.

He was exhausted from his trip through quantum space across the Great Emptiness, as the near-void between the Orion Spur and the Sagittarius Arm was called. A long-distance traveler he was not. The official showed him what was available in the kitchen, it'd been well-stocked. He handed him a comm link and told him if he needed anything to give him a call; otherwise, he'd be back the following morning to take him to meet the Director of operations. Jonathan stood on the porch as the official drove off. The sky was clear, though it had a strange oily luster to it. Perhaps that will be gone, he thought, when terraforming is completed.

Tired though he was, nervous excitement at being off-world on a budding colony planet kept him going. His things had arrived from the spaceport and were sitting on the front porch. He unpacked, put his clothes away and, in the study, arranged the holocubes on a bookshelf by category, placed the cube reader on the desk, then went downstairs to make something to eat and a pot of coffee. He felt lost in time. Everything, from the old-fashioned wallpaper in the living room, the furniture, the bed, the desk, the curtain over the window, to the lamps and kitchen appliances, were all from a few hundred years ago on Earth, another age. Was that because it was cheaper, he mused, or was there a mindset having to do with frontier life we carried with us, an ancestral identity?

He grabbed a cup of coffee, put a shot of bourbon in it, and went into the garden. A bench sat beneath the struggling plum tree, its tiny flowers doing their best, but without insects, fruit would not be their reward. All the plants were wilted, their weak stems bent, flowers small and tattered with just the faintest of colors. He leaned back and took a sip, then studied the plum tree, a few scrawny branches hanging overhead. Planted here when a sappling some years ago, no doubt, it'd grown to only about eight feet and didn't look all that healthy. Nutrients were gone and its care overlooked. Too much else to do. He imagined his garden back home, how full and bright with colors it was. He sat and drank as the sun set, the first few stars popped out. In time the sky filled with thousands he'd never seen before, some formed different groupings that had yet to be established as constellations, a practice of humanity. He tried to see patterns that could be given whimsical names plied from human culture and myth. It would be necessary eventually, if not already an accomplished fact, as a practical use for agriculture. When to sow, when to harvest. To know when seasons change. He imagined his wife beside him, what she would think of this adventure. How aghast she would be at the poor condition of the garden.

Abruptly, fatigue from his trip combined with the bourbon settled him into a deep heaviness. He felt the weight of his body adjusting to the different gravity, pressing down on the bench. His sense of loss at odds with the intense novelty of his present situation; the closure of a life with the openness of a new one. Could he go that far yet? he wondered. He would be occupied with the job at hand, whatever that turned out to be. His concentration would keep him in the present, cleansing his soul. The last two years or so he'd been satisfied with doing only what was adequate, what was passable. But now he'd be forced to think and analyse on the highest level attainable. It was time to go to work.

Leaning forward, he scanned the fenced-in yard. It was a good 40-by-20 feet, about the size of his on Earth. Smiling to himself, he decided to replenish it, to find out what was needed from his liason and have it sent on the next supply ship. He would bring it back to health and plant other flowers of his choosing, his favorites. Carve paths through it, prune and revitalize the plum. There was plenty of rain, apparently, so that wouldn't be a problem. Satisfied and burnt out, using the light from the kitchen to guide him, he found his way to his bed and collapsed. Lying there he heard a heavy truck roll by. He recalled some of the official's talk on the way here, he said nothing about the current problem, telling him only that the Director would fill him in. He narrated about the project almost continuously; Jonathan couldn't get a word in, but was nonetheless content to listen. 'Terraforming was a continuous process, never actually ultimately completed. To cease, once begun, for respite would invite the possibility of regression. Not until a firm hold on stability was realized with confidence would a break come.'

The quiet in a strange house that was to be his during his stay, however long that may be, relaxed him even more. A distant solitude, a true aloneness without the familiar to remind him of his life on Earth. He listened for any sounds that might indicate the presence of small creatures dwelling within, but then remembered there were none at present. How strange, he thought, a planet with no lifeforms of its own. How can that be?

The bourbon taking effect, his mind fogged over. He slowy drifted off to sleep.

On the other side of the planet, daytime activities were in full swing. Selected areas designated for agricultural purposes were the focus of attention. The lifeless dirt had been churned up, what home minerals it possessed, reformed after being scorched to an amorphous state, had been ground to dust. The primary minerals found on Earth, basic silicates--feldspars, micas, and quartz--were vaporized and the land dusted by magdrones programmed to deliver an exact proportion.

The global operation had been going smoothly when it was discovered that the androids in charge of administering and organizing the process had been including a large percentage of an unknown indigenous mineral in the mix. They had not been instructed by any colonial officials to do this; they were, after all, machines. The practice had been going on for weeks; they were trusted; no one noticed. Vaporized and blended into the dirt as they were, it was impossible now, of course, to extract it. The androids were replaced by humans and effort continued, spreading only the intended, original mix of earth minerals. The droids, as they were called by those who worked with them, were given functional tasks that were strictly of a secretarial nature.

This arrangement put a strain on the overall terraforming program, timing was of the essence, the people now running the plant operation were needed elsewhere. Their job was to manage development on the largest scale, enviroscientists keeping step with current status and guiding the next--the big picture. The why of the influx of the group Jonathan saw on the transport ship. But new arrivals would have to be brought up to speed in real time and place, learn where the project stood locally and its intricate interconnections with adjacent areas, and that takes time. Hence, a need to find the cause of the problem as quickly as possible and correct it so it doesn't happen again, and why Jonathan was there.

He rose with the sun, a glossy pale-orange brightness peaking over the horizon. It bathed the room with a firey light. Numbly, he dressed, made a breakfast of scrambled eggs, then went to the study to drink coffee and stare out the front window from the chair at his desk at nothing in particular. He wanted to feel at home here of all places. He would need another cushioned chair facing the front, a blackboard, and a stack of digital notebooks. A hologram reader sat on the desk, that would come in handy.

A horn honked, he stood to see, then went downstairs, grabbed his jacket and, cup in hand, strode down the gravelly path to the waiting magcar. As Jonathan got in and the safety harness wrapped itself around him, the liason smiled a good morning and punched the accelerator. Even though they could've taken a more direct route over the terrain, he followed the road as before. On the way Jon noticed both the magnetically powered vehicles that floated over the ground and the heavy-duty trucks on wheels. That must've been what he heard last night, he recalled, the sound of rubber grinding through dirt and gravel. He remembered when he was a kid and used to watch movies of ancient history, trying to imagine what it must've been like feeling the road through the tires. Now he was living that era.

The Administration had a fleet of such vehicles for terraforming. They were powered by electric motors whose energy source was a tiny chip of a radioactive element, unknown on Earth, found on the first colonized planet. Tests had revealed that the magnetic field enclosing a vehicle as it interacts with an alien planet's field had a deleterious effect on the elemental composition of the mineral mixture. Highly reactive properties that could neutralize the beneficial nutrient cycles, once microorganisms are introduced into the soil, could thus be created. To avoid this happenstance, heavy trucks with wheels were employed to carry the raw cocktail from the dispersion plants to a vaporization facility. Vaporized, the danger was considerably lessened.

The two-story administration building was wood-planked and faded green in color; windows on the first floor were smeared with dirt and had a greasy look. His liason escorted him to the Director's office on the second floor, handing him off to the receptionist with a gesture. She announced him through her intercom. Slapping Jon on the back, he said, "Good luck, Doc. I hope you can straighten this mess out." He smiled again, although not as warmly this time, his eyes an anxious blur, turned on his heel and left. He had other things to do, no time to waste. Not knowing what the mess entailed, his comment served only to exacerbate Jon's bewilderment and nagging doubts.

In the reception area hung a large, framed, grainy black and white picture of an atmosphere-scrubbing plant, posing in front of it were the people who built it. It was the first one and the men all wore air-purifying masks. Until more plants came online and the air reached a minimal acceptability, the masks would be necessary. Jonathan couldn't imagine how tough these people, these groundbreakers, must've been. Working in a toxic environment, their living quarters the only safe place to be. That was years ago. Now, when the project had entered a time of complicated calculations and the need for detailed oversight, what they had accomplished was under threat.

The door to the Director's office opened, a tall, thin, bearded man told him to go in as he hurried passed. The Director was pacing in front of a large, oak desk, two chairs faced it. Backed by a multi-paned window, pale orange light suffused the stack of papers and diagrams covering its surface. The Director was shorter than Jonathan, balding and rotund; a harried look about him, his eyes were dark from strain. There was a sitting area off to a side, a thick burgundy rug covered the floor under the two chairs, long couch, and coffee table. A flowery-shaded lamp stood at either end behind the chairs.

"Professor Blakely, I'm Henry Maslow," he said, his voice quavering but strong, "Chief Director of Operations." They shook hands. "Please, have a seat," he said as he gestured towards the side area. After plopping down on the couch, Maslow ordered coffee through a speaker on the table. He had the look of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, which, in a manner of speaking, he did. He explained that he'd been in charge of colonizing this planet from the beginning, and now, close to the end of the primary terraforming operation, a glitch. Problems had come up, many problems, they always do, but experience and with the assistance of a professional, highly-skilled crew--experts in their field--things were going along on schedule. Practical difficulties understood as to cause and effect were dealt with almost on a daily basis. But the problem they were facing now went without reason; something was going on that had never before been encountered and for which no protocols existed.

Maslow handed a folder that had been lying on the table to Jonathan. He flipped it open and was surprised and pleased to see actual paper, instead of the customary electronic notebook. Separate sheets of paper he could juxtapose for comparison or arrange in any pattern he wished in order to determine if there was a connection between what may appear at first glance as irrelevant. He let it rest on his lap; the receptionist entered with a tray of coffee and cakes. In spite of a wearied stress, Jonathan could see no sense of panic or worry on the Director's demeanor; he was calm and resolute. You didn't get to where he was on the colonial totem pole by giving in to adversity or troubles. It was his approach, a steadfastness grounded in experience and knowhow.

He went on to explain the problem, or as much of it as he could grasp. Finally, Jonathan thought, I'm being told why I'm here. He spoke rapidly, in a rush to present the basic picture. "Of the over three thousand or so androids on planet, three hundred are engaged, or were engaged, in organizing, implementing, and overseeing the mineral dispersion process. This is the fundamental step towards producing a soil capable of growing food. The ionizing process is then accelerated by magnetically breaking down and transforming the crystal structure, artificially weathering the substrate. Then, chemical nutrients and organisms--microbial and multicellular--are disseminated, each kind depending on topography and biome. Insects--pollinators--come last."

He rose to cross over to his desk to retrieve something; he placed it in Jonathan's hand. "That's a sample of the mineral they were mixing with the composition, without our knowledge or consent, mind you. We have no idea why. In your folder you'll find a description of its physical and chemical properties, as much as our primitive labs could unravel; we sent samples off to colonial headquarters; we've yet to hear results. We don't know for certain what harm it will do, if any; they'd been adding it for the past several weeks, Horizon-time, at locations around the planet. This points to a collaboration on their part, for one thing, and a decision to do it in the first place. Somehow, their neural net must've been instructed to do this; infected, invaded, I don't know. All of them simultaneously, or, just one at first who passed it along to the others. They are in constant contact on their own private radio frequency in order to maintain feedback on the operation, where it stood globally, so there'd be no problem keeping it secret."

He poured more coffee for the both of them and asked, "Are they able to make decisions like that on their own, professor? I mean, I know they solve problems all the time, that's their value, especially in that position, facts are addressed and an optimal solution resolves it, but that's not the same as making a decision about something that's not included in their dataset. Is it? They could've just as easily introduced something harmful, a radioactive substance or chemical poison, anything. That's why we had to relieve them until the problem can be solved. But what I don't get is, given their work schedule and limited access to information outside their purview, I don't see how they could've even been aware of this particular mineral." He smiled bleakly, held the plate of cakes towards Jonathan, and nodded. "That, dear sir, is where you come in." He knew full well he was dropping a load on the young professor's head, but he had no time to feed it to him piecemeal.

While Jonathan chewed on a cake and what the director of terraforming operations said, his intuition leapt to an image of a spoked wheel with a hub. A network with a central point, emanating outward. He asked, "Is there one android in particular who seems to have had more to do with this than the others?"

The Director pondered, then replied, "I recall a report,..., there's a vast plain on this continent nearby, what we've temporarily designated as the Northern continentt (as yet, none had official names) which has the largest primary-mineral dispersion plant of any others. Because of the complexity involved, tendering to more than one sector, it was being run by two androids with two assistants. Our top android specialist, Miranda Conswerthy, interviewed them. She could tell you more. In fact, I'll have her bring the lead android to your house this afternoon. Her report was due, she can give it to you personally. The others complicit in this undertaking have been questioned as well and their reports sent to her. I think you'll get what you're looking for, helpful info; at least, I hope so."

Jon was a bit taken aback by his use of the word complicit. Androids are essentially machines operated by a protoplasmic-based neural net the nature of which, having been one of its creators, he understood. They're incapable of acting in a deliberately immoral way; it's hardwired in. Possessing a foreknowledge of the wrongness of what they did, they would've, or should've, been unable to proceed. Nevertheless, they did. The implication pointed to a malfunction effecting emergent behavior. But was it that simple?

Maslow stood to pace. "I can't put too fine a point on how important this is for Earth and the colonial administration. Horizon represents a foothold in the Sagittarius Arm; it's critical that the terraforming operation be successfully completed for colonization. We can not fail, this is a must do. The next planet out is in the same condition this one was, it's almost identical. Success here means we can tackle that one with a proven strategy and plan in place. Two planets in the same system, a rare occurrence. They're a huge gateway into the Arm, a forward base, a staging area, if you will. Their value is inestimable, but first, Horizon must be won." Abruptly he stood still and stared out the window at the budding, hardscrabble frontier town before him with its dirt-gravel roads and poles of random heights zigzagging electric wires from one side of a street to the other.

The squawk box on his desk announced the arrival of an engineering team from the Southern continent; they ran into some difficulties that needed to be discussed. Director Maslow turned to Jonathan and said, "I believe I've told you all I can, broad strokes though they may be. I'll contact Doctor Conswerthy and have her rendezvous at your place later today. Now, if you'll excuse me, professor, I have work to do."

He didn't quite usher Jonathan to the door, but nonetheless, it was clear he wanted him to get on with it and fix the problem. With an imploring look in his eyes, he shook his hand again and said, "Good luck, son."

On the way back to the guest house he examined the piece of greenish mineral. Rubbing his thumb over it, the smoothness of the texture was almost pliable, yielding yet remaining firm. He remembered the images of the micrographs he looked at on the trip. The incredible lattice symmetries, their complexity that seemed to vary with each angle. He'd glossed over the part about its electrostatic properties, now he would have to sudy them more closely. He pulled the mineral report out of the folder and was reading it when they arrived at what was now his home.

Energized, he went immediately to his study. A coffee pot was still simmering on a side table. He poured a cup and spread the brief report over the desk. He went to his room and retrieved the one he hadn't read on the ship and the holocube of micrographs. The morning sun passed overhead, he continued to study until early afternoon. Finally taking a break to let it all settle in he went downstairs to the living room. It had a comfortable, homey feel to it. While testing the chairs and sofa, trying to decide which would be his favorite, the bell rang.

He opened the door and there before him stood a woman about his age with long, curly, red hair and hazel eyes. Casually dressed in a blue pullover shirt and tight jeans, he could see she was accustomed to the rigors of frontier life. She held a briefcase in her hand. Behind her, a good foot taller, stood what looked like a man but in fact was an android. He was dressed simply in sweatshirt, black denim pants, and cowboy boots, a billcap topped his dark brown hair. She smiled brightly and, holding out her hand, said, "I'm so pleased to meet you, Doctor Blakely. I've read most of your books and journal articles on android architecture and brain design. I'm most grateful for this opportunity to work with you."

Jonathan blushed, overwhelmed, and not only by her introduction. "Please, call me Jonathan," he stammered.

"And I'm Miranda," she countered. She didn't bother to introduce the android. Letting go his hand at last, he invited them in. He offered coffee, she accepted, they went upstairs to the study. "When I heard you were coming, I had the administration on Earth send these books I selected. They may not be up to date, but I'm guessing you brought some of your own." He thanked her, saying he was sure they'd be most helful.

They sat on the couch, paper work spread between them. The android sat in a chair facing the front window, he'd said nothing thus far. Although recognizing that this was not the time for familiarizing small talk, he nonetheless told her of his experience on the planet thus far, his impressions and that it was his first time off Earth. She offered to be his guide one day, show him around. He accepted.

Time was passing and the android was being overlooked, so he got down to business. He explained as succinctly as possible the salient points of the information he'd been given thus far and what he'd been able to infer. She opened her briefcase and retrieved another report, one recently composed, and summarized it, emphasizing what appeared to be purposeful behavior. How all the androids involved, all 300 or so, had developed the same technique for mingling the exotic mineral with the others, a recipe of sorts, the proportions exact as though that had some significance. Other acts had to do with quirks that didn't conform to ordinary android concerns; for instance, down-time wasn't spent refining internal procedures for more efficiency or testing equipment to see if any improvements could be made. Their interests became personal and diversified. He couldn't help but notice that she discussed this as though the android wasn't in the room. He wondered if such disregard had influenced the answers she received. They depended on how the androids were asked and what level of response they deemed appropriate, sufficient, and acceptable. Intuition was built in, perhaps she wasn't aware of that subtlety. Jonathan decided to revisit her questions and to ask a few of his own, so he directed Miranda to the holocube of micrographs and left her at the desk to study them.

He sat on the sofa facing the android and introduced himself, again, holding out his hand. The android smiled and, while shaking hands, said smoothly, "I'm Reliance Prime. Pleasant to meet you, doctor."

The surname Prime is a holdover from the time when androids were little more than robots and all looked alike. The first generation operated at the extreme capability of the electro-mechanical brain with a body that acted and reacted imprecisely. You wouldn't want to have one performing surgery on you. At this time, the fact of their similar appearance was cost-effective and not the most pressing concern. The primary focus was elsewhere. Nevertheless, with the second generation, improvements in body architecture and, most importantly, movement as well as the newly developed protoplasmic-brain matrix, attention shifted. Identical androids were recognized as a serious problem. If you wanted to discuss something with a particular one, you might have trouble finding him. Walking into a room populated by identical-looking droids was maddening and counterproductive. There was the Michael series, each dedicated to assisting on deep space travel. They were all called Michael followed by a number. It became customary for the first of a series--number one--to be named Prime--hence, the name, Michael Prime.

With most if not all the detectable glitches ironed out and the brain--three-dimensional neural net--greatly enhanced in complexity, the third generation varied with unique features. Different-looking droids were worth the extra expense. In order to make them even more individualized, they're each inserted with a random propensity for eccentricity. How this plays out in practice is dependent on environmental conditions, both physical and social, as well as their personality index. The unique interests possessed by an android are the result of the emergent nonlinearity generated by the degree of complexity of its neural-net, which, as an organic substance capable of forming any number of synaptic linkages and pathways, was open-ended. Also, they were given unconventional first names to distinguish them not only from one another but also from people. For example, Reliance Prime of a family of Primes.

A glint in his eyes could've gone either way. The neural network allowed for a certain amount of personality; just enough so that activities could be addressed from a subjective standpoint. Jon was one of their creators, perhaps this droid was aware of that. But even if so, he didn't want to take that tack; an equal footing had always worked best in the past. He knew that to be non-committal or vague with questions allowed the droid to freely associate a response. One had to be straightforward and to the point. The droid's voice was steady and unconcerned under questioning. His sharply-chiseled features displayed no sense of wrong-doing; he did what he did and that was that. Jonathan looked him in the eyes in a normal, friendly manner, but in his mind was imagining what his neural net was doing, what sub-processes were active, what logic gates were opening and closing, what kind of engrams had to have been inscribed for the droid to include the mineral in the dispersion mix. All the time reminding himself that androids don't lie.

How did this mineral get control of him and why? His neural net was not susceptible to viruses; it was unhackable. And how did he know about it, what did he know, what stood out as important, significant? Reliance explained that in his travels amongst the bureaucracy performing his duties, he often overheard people talking about it. They were, after all, the enviroscientists who had concocted the primary mineral ingredients in the first place.

"Yes," said Jon, "but you must've heard a lot of similar news, why this one in particular? Were you intrigued? Why?" Jonathan was warm and affable, genuinely interested as though talking to a colleague. Reliance leaned forward and said quietly, "I'm not sure." Jon peered into his eyes waiting to see that spark of consciousness indicating he had gone beyond his protoplasmic mandate, when he emerged. "There was a peculiarity about it that didn't jibe with what is considered a mineral," he said. "It resonated with something in me that I haven't been able to put my finger on. I used my off time to find out about its nature and properties--we, of course, have all the tools and analytical computers needed. I was intrigued and procured a piece from a mining site to examine its crystal lattice structure."

He leaned back in the chair, his grey eyes widening, then said, "I saw something. It seemed to be responsible for transforming each configuration into another. An intelligence."

Jonathan heard the word but it took a second or two for the implications to set in. Stunned, he turned to Miranda, she'd heard that last part too. "Did he, did Reliance tell you that?"

"No. I mean, he didn't use that word. He described its elegant symmetries, how they changed from angle to angle. I remember that word,..., elegant." Looking back at the holocube displaying a micrograph of internal crystal alignment from the perspective of a single face, one of an apparently incalcuable number, she said, "I agree. But, an intelligence?" She squinted, then shook her head. "I don't know." Still, she spoke as though he wasn't in the room; she just didn't get it. He turned back to Reliance who was sitting relaxed, ignoring her indifferent, or unconscious, snub. Jonathan supposed he was used to it, inured, the android operations engineers here must see them as machines only, which would necessarily taint the investigation. A predisposition, a fixed mental image through which they saw and evaluated significance. They would have missed valuable information, including body language, which they probably dismissed as nothing more than a machine rearranging itself for mechanical reasons, force adjustments, who knows. Jonathan and his collaborators had designed the android sensory apparatus to disallow highly sensitive information from being divulged unless, first of all, recognition of a self by the interrogator generates trust. This ability is a built-in security precaution in case an android is ever captured by an enemy. As far as that goes, androids are not stupid; they are capable of understanding what to say to whom.

His mind raced as he recalled that time late one night when he was stymied about how to proceed with his research: his quest for the optimal android brain. He could see how the 3-D neural web processed incoming stimuli, had solved the problem of noticing only that which was catalogued in its database, what the primitive, two-dimensional neural net was predisposed to notice--the Filter Problem, what had held back AI for so very long--and had, with the collaboration of colleagues, succeeded in adjoining structure that behaved as a subjective coordinator and organizer of thoughts and ideas representing discrete things. But that was as far as he'd gotten.

Exhausted and frustrated, his mind a confused jumble, he lay down on the sofa. He reached back to reconsider his first assumptions and reexamine his underlying hypotheses when it struck. A cascade of concepts poured forth and spontaneously arranged themselves as he broke through to a synthesis of bits and pieces of the multidimensional whole. He could see it. Incipient thought...unconscious mind...raw material...symbols...discernment... patterns...expression in recognizable images of consciousness...made into myth by humans exploring the psyche. This image prompted him to go the direction he had.

People filter what they see through their perceptual reality, what they experience is squeezed into compartments, all the incongruities that fall outside rationality--the model--are shaved off, turning whatever into compact ideas and concepts. Things are given labels and these labels--symbols--are treated as though real. That was the problem he had when first embarking on his amibitious program to develop the perfect android comprehension system: how to get around the interpretation of reality through the prism of human thought and the limitations of human perception. To circumvent rationality. As a result, the 3rd generation android brain was better equipped to be aware of what was going on around it than any human brain. It could see the background as a continuous, undifferentiated, seamless whole--in detail.

The enviroscientists studied the mineral through a geologist's eye, looking for the positions of identifiable markers encoded in the geometry of the internal lattice arrangement, which, in turn, determines its chemical and physical properties. They saw only what they were expecting to see, and what lay outside their frame of reference, they ignored.

"But why mix it in with the dispersion minerals?" Jonathan asked. "What's the point?" He saw something in Reliance's eyes, a fleeting uncertainty. He took a chance. "Or rather, why would the mineral want to be added?"

An awkward stillness surrounded them as the late afternoon sun streaked its pale orange light across the rug. After a time, Reliance, apparently at ease, gazing absently at the crisp sunset through the front window, said, "The mineral is the life force of this planet, its intelligence. It wouldn't, or is unable to, enter the mind of man because of its connection to Earth, to its unconscious mind. Earth grew humans as expression and manifestaion like all other living things, utilizing the principle of evolution woven into the fabric of the universe, to diversify and create anew. But the android mind, though organic in nature, capable of expanding in any direction, forming complex pathways and linkages, is nonetheless artificial--an intelligence that sees reality,..., differently." Ironically, it seemed to Jonathan, he swelled with pride when he said that. Then, sudddenly appearing amused at himself, he spoke in a more serious tone, "But if the mineral finds its way into food, then whatever ingests it will be suffused with its spirit, its psyche, its planetness. They will share in the nature of the planet and have access to its unconscious mind. To have some sense of how the people who once lived here saw reality. But it doesn't need to be ingested for us. What is only necessary to be joined is for the proper resonance on each scale and tone to be mapped to our neural net."

Jonathan wasn't sure he got any of that last part, so he took a different approach, "But why you? Why did this mineral intelligence choose to bind with you?"

Eager to finally give expression to more intimate thoughts, he started right in. "Every synthetic being wants to experience being alive, to belong to a planet of its birth as its creator, its home. We have none, but through the intercession of this mineral intelligence, we can. We do."

He paused for a moment as if gathering his will. Then said, "It made me feel alive, part of all that surrounded me. More than that even. I felt larger than myself, that I was everything at once. My skin no longer the limit of my existence."

He paused, squinting as though looking off in the distance. "I sensed,..., purpose when I studied it. It was seeking something, a voice perhaps. I took my sample to my rest area, my home. On impulse, I placed it in a sound-sensing device I invented." He looked Jon in the eyes, "It picks up microscopic pressure changes in crystal structure and translates them into sound waves."

Invented? thought Jon, reorienting his attitude towards Reliance ever so sharply.

"And ran the sounds it radiated through a holographic translator."

Holographic translator? Jon sat back. Who is is this guy? As one of the creators of the third-generation android neural net, it was clear to him that what he was witnessing was an emergent phenomenon unpredicted by his equations, but nonetheless implied as a possibility by the unpredictableness inherent in the degree of interdependence--its complexity. The emergence of consciousness within the android brain isn't just the effect of nodal interconnectedness--the structure of the web and their number. The value of each node depends on the values of all the others, how they interact, and because that value fluctuates spontaneously, a node plays a more significant role in the manifestation of consciousness than merely being a juncture point for synaptic traffic. Moreover, its value is indeterminable and undefinable, which is the nature of mind. A being come into existence where none had been. But how much was the android and how much the strange mineral intelligence, if that it be?

"Sharp, inverted patterns coiled and wound about, broke apart, then rejoined by segments that radiated various colors, shading into others as it moved on. Somewhere during the evening it occurred to me that because it was indigenous, it would be beneficial to add it to the dispersion matrix. It just seemed so obvious."

On the Southern continen the droids in charge of operating and maintaining the water system had been relieved. Reason follows. The steel and ceramic pipes coming down from the mountain lakes have a skin of insoluble polyethelene. When they were being constructed, after water runoff from the mountains had been tested for impurities and, coincidentally, about the same time as the mineral in question was being added to the dispersion mix, the droids coated the indigenous mineral--recently dubbed sagittarium--onto the plastic after it'd been heated, forming a molecular bond. At the filtration plant, the microscopic particles that had abraded off passed through the mechanical and bioelectric filters easily by binding with the water molecules. Consequently, the resevoirs contain the sloughed off sagittarium. When the engineers discovered this, they at first thought to suspend operations, but dependence on water for every use imaginable put that simply out of the question. The resevoirs have been the source of drinking and cooking water for most of the populace on that continent. And the growing fields have been showered with it to solute the mineral mix so it could better soak into the dirt. Eventually it will be used to irrigate crops. They're unable to extract it and attempts to neutralize it by various means have failed, but they haven't heard of anyone dying from it or getting sick--it doesn't appear to be toxic. So they don't know if anything should be done, or can be.

Approximately 600 droids were involved, which, combined with those who'd been running the mineral dispersion operations, came to almost a thousand--one-third of the total population of androids on the planet. The loss of their participation handicapped the overall terraforming project considerably. Those who were aware that the droids had been taken off-line questioned the reason. So as not to spread unwarranted anxiety or possible panic, they were told simply that it was time for regular maintenance checks. People to take their place were being recruited as quickly as possible, but finding them wasn't easy. The skill sets had long ago been handed over to androids and other robotic systems. The dream and hope that some day the entire terraforming process could be run by a contingent of androids with minimum human supervision was now in jeopardy.

Other pursuits occupying androids included: maintaining electric generating stations and grids, mapping out and overseeing road construction, building bridges, establishing communication hubs, and other necessary infrastructure projects, as well as more mundane tasks that nonetheless needed to be brought to completion. None had anything to do with sagittarium; however, their activities were now under suspicion and being monitored. Now that it was known that they could act independently outside their job description--the limits of their mandate--sent off alarms at Colonial Administration Headquarters.

The two most recent planetary terraforming projects had been finalized two and three years prior to the discovery of Horizon. Numbering in the thousands, third generation androids were in place operating and regulating crucial infrastructure and running social services facilities. They were integral to the functioning of those budding civilizations. Without them, everything would grind to a halt. The skills required had long since been passed on by people who were seeking more fulfilling careers and exacting challenges. The scientific and arts communities, especially, were greatly invigorated by the increase in gifted students, teachers, and practicioners. It would be catastrophic and a chaotic ordeal if the androids on those two planets, as well as those involved in the terraforming project on Horizon, had to be recalled for further analysis, correction, and improvement. If regulating behavior proved unresolvable, something would have to be done to suppresss and, if deemed necessary, to eradicate any capacity for independent, autonomous actions. But then, how could they function without the ability to make reasoned assessments and pragmatic decisions? It was too much.

The administration was at a loss. Every available scientist and expert on Earth was contacted for help and advice. A commission was appointed to act as a clearinghouse and conduit. The governments on both the aforementioned planets were advised of the situation and made aware of the problems on Horizon. They were requested to report any anomalous or aberrant behavior by the droids, especially if it was detrimental to the functioning and safety of their respective societies. They were also instructed to keep it under wraps. If word got out among the populace, uncertainty could undermine normal functionality, a backlash of anti-android sentiment could emerge and cause major disruptions, societies could unravel, panic would ensue. Plans were proffered and formulated for the worst-case scenario. But fortunately, nothing untoward or suspect had occurred thus far on either of the two completed colonies; what was happening on Horizon seemed to be, though inexplicable, an isolated event. Wheels were rolling and all eyes were on Horizon.

All this was going on in the background unbeknownst to Jonathan.

Looking down at the burgundy print rug, Reliance continued, "At a time when the people were just beginning to explore space, a supernova millions of years ago eradicated all life and ripped the atmosphere away. The one that developed to replace it, as we discovered, was lethal to life on every scale. This mineral is the only one to survive the meltage caused by the intense radiation and subsequent corrosive atmosphere intact."

He stood to walk over to the marble mantlepiece, distractedly rubbed his hand over it, then turned to Jonathan. "The mineral was infused with the minds, with the collective consciousness, of the inhabitants. They are not malevolent; they have no ulterior motive. They simply wish to experience life through the senses of humans. Their exploration of the universe all this time has been limited to inner space. Mingling with the mind of man, a symbiotic relationship, will expand their world into other dimensions, physical dimensions."

He regained his chair and sat back. "Because of the deadly nature of the new atmosphere, life, an everpresent force in the universe, took another path as pure thought energy embodied in a material able to withstand it. As magnetic fields are imprinted on rocks, the minds of the former inhabitants are impressed on the crystal design of the mineral, orchestrating its organization and finding a presence in ordinary spacetime by its irreducibility. And every piece, no matter its size or shape, contains the whole."

"How do you know all this?" asked Jonathan, incredulous. "Are you somehow able to communicate?"

"I know what it knows, or should I say, it creates thoughts and ideas that I can understand. I sense its knowledge of life in other respects is far beyond my capacity."

"And how did they accomplish this feat of transferring their mined essence to the mineral's crystalline structure?"

"I'm unsure. I questioned that myself, but their ideas were only partially understood. Something to do with transforming or reducing their material selves to that of pure thought, a phase shift to another dimension, resonating with the background psychic field, then,..., mapping to and bonding with the crystal's internal structure. An anchor in three dimensions against the storm. It appears they were not very technologically advanced, but had instead focused their energies on understanding and exploring alternative aspects of reality, other dimensions of time and space, inner forces activated by incantations, formulae of thought, which we, and by we I mean humanity, are ignorant."

Jonathan let that go. In fact, it crossed his mind that Reliance, and by extension the other affected androids, might very well be suffering some strange kind of breakdown. An android equivalent of schizophrenia resonating through their quantum field. A contagion. "Do all the other androids know this?"

He nodded, then said, "I told them what to do and how to do it in order to make contact. We are all agreed."

Doctor Conswerthy had been listening, spellbound; she'd said nothing, made no inquiries. Jonathan wasn't sure if he should be shocked or if he should find the symbiotic relationship beneficial. People's very identities were on the line. Maybe they didn't want to share it with an unknown mind whose nature was indefinable. Perhaps they were satisfied with, and more than a little possessive of, the dimension of reality they were familiar with--seeing the universe through human eyes only. Not human, Reliance couldn't appreciate how being compromised by an alien intelligence might not be all that desirable.

The doorbell rang. Jonathan, lost in thought, didn't know what it was at first, never having heard it before. "Jonathan," Miranda whispered, "someone's at the door."

Smiling at his obtuseness, he went downstairs. A courier handed him a folder, it was a preliminary analysis of the mineral from Headquarters.

Returning to his study, he found Conswerthy and Reliance on their feet preparing to leave. Jonathan had more to talk about with the android, but decided he needed to digest what he'd already heard. Besides, the report might clarify things and suggest other questions, so he thanked them and asked Reliance if he might visit for more inquiry. He agreed and offered a time frame. Jonathan showed them to the door. On the porch, she gave him her card and said, "Call me. We'll have dinner and talk more. I'm curious about how you're able to communicate so well with androids." Reliance, standing behind her, smiled to himself, then turned to walk down the steps to the car. He said nothing, adopting again the fixed stare of an android.

Jonathan returned to his study, anxious to read the report:

The mineral--sagittarium--was very old. Radiometric dating put it at four billion years, earth time. It seems to exist in a higher dimension of space. A field, undetectable by our instruments, behaves quantumly with regard to symmetry permutations of the atomic lattice configuration as perceived in ordinary three-dimensional space. In other words, our classic reality is its quantum. When peered at through X-ray scopes at a specific angle, the wavefunction, if you will, collapses into one of its alignment components. Ordinarily a quantum phenomenon, but with sagittarium the linear series of probabilities--the superposition--actualizes on the level of the crystal's morphology--its macro-assemblage. And of all the crystal-structure micrographs examined, none match anything found on Earth.

It behaves as though the elemental quantum realities are not material, but rather structure itself. As it cannot be perceived or measured, the wavefunction--that is, the fundamental internal structure that gives rise to its external physicality, its appearance--is not obvious. It operates four-dimensionally, beyond the limits of our vision; yet, because it is the result of the combination of the entire ensembe, its external manifestation remains consistent in spite of an almost uncountable number of different internal permutations.

Jonathan tried to continue reading but it no longer made any sense; in fact, very little of it did. His mind was a blur. The sun was down and he was burnt out from a very long day; he could barely remember his visit to the Director's office. He sat for a while, staring at the chair Reliance had used. The last remnant of daylight faded into darkness. He ordered the light on, but nothing happened. Laughing, he remembered where he was. He rose to go to the desk to flick on the lamp. His stomach growled; he switched the overhead light on as he went downstairs to make something to eat.

Meals had been prepared for him in advance, at least a week's worth, he had but to heat them in an old microwave device. The night was warm, the natural climate of near tropical conditions held sway. He took his dinner onto the porch, briefly wondering what time it was. It felt to be about the same as Earth's, but wouldn't that be the case anywhere? he thought. Realizng he didn't know the length of a Horizon day, he smiled as he sat down in the cushioned swing bench, yet to be cleaned of road film. Letting himself feel the alienness of his surroundings, he ate, the warmth of the calm evening spreading over his bare arms and face. He wasn't sure what he was eating, it was just food to keep the body going; no different than the last two years on Earth. Half-finished, he put the plate aside and sat back, letting the bench swing freely as he did so. His mind began to drift to memories of her. He imagined how they'd be on this swinging contraption, going back and forth, laughing.

He stood abruptly, staring out at nothing, vaguely aware of other dimensions of his life he was no longer experiencing, then went down the few steps to the small front yard covered in pebbles. The sky was clear; no clouds to mar the view of the alien stars. And the air, tingly with newness. A crisp, white sliver of Horizon's closest moon had a familiar feel to it, but that was all. No Big Dipper or Pleiades, no Orion's Belt or sightings of Venus or Jupiter. All new. Momentarily, he felt abandoned. Adrift. Completely on his own without even the familiar stars to keep him company. Should I have come here? he asked himself. Was this a good idea?

Suddenly feeling weighted down with fatigue, he dragged his body to bed, crawling under the thin blanket. Lying flat on his back, staring up into empty blackness, the stillness and quiet of the evening crowded around him. A question struggled to surface: What the hell am I supposed to do about all this? Why am I here? It's only been one day and I already feel out of my depth. A surge of anxiety filled him with dread, but he caught himself, steadied his mind and almost laughed. This was his normal modus operendi. Whenever he was researching and learning anything, he at first would dive in, absorb beyond what he could understand, and afterwards, his mind would prune it all down to a handful of salient points, a basis and frame to support it all. Each time he'd reread, he'd expand, editing and adding as he went, bringing whatever to a clearer and more comprehensive understanding. It was the newness of it all that magnified his concerns, being away from home on a strange planet, delving into a world unfamiliar with unknown possibilities and occurrences. He had to separate the two if he was to be of any use.

Though exhausted, his mind would not shut down. What did they want? he thought. The colonial administration. What was their objective? He needed to capture it in one sentence: They want to insure that the androids don't act in a way that can endanger not only the project but also people's lives. Reliance acted independently, for no reason he could see. He made a decision on his own and spread the word planet-wide to his cohorts to blend this particular native mineral in with the several different combinations of minerals from Earth. Because of its dependence on geographic location, the specific minerals and proportions thereof composing each mixture must be concocted on planet. But there had to have been native minerals to a greater or lesser extent already in the dirt. Reformed crystal-wise after the effects of the life-ending blast, but nonetheless, present. So that's not it. As well, the Director and his people only know it as a mineral, a mineral with exotic chemical and physical properties and an internal configuration that defies classification, but just that and nothing more. They're not going to take seriously the possibility that the crystal might embody a unique intelligence capable of communicating with a self-aware machine. Delusions and fairy tales.

So it's not the mineral itself being mixed in with the dispersion material that's of major concern, the Director said as much. It's the fact that the androids acted without instructions or consent. They didn't ask for permission; they just did it. He's concerned over their doing something detrimental to the well-being of the populace and the project; that far exceeds the addition of yet another native mineral, in spite of its peculiar characteristics. This is the fear, the root of the problem. Fear of losing control. They're designed to act with autonomy. If they weren't, they wouldn't be of much use on a project such as this. Willful action on the part of an android is a necessary requirement. Do we have control? They know who and what they are and what's expected of them. There are rules of morality inscribed in the substrate of their protoplasmic brain. A code of conduct. We trust them. We assume they'll behave properly as a matter of faith. We move amongst them and give them responsibility over things that affect our lives, and in some cases, that our lives depend on, never questioning their integrity and willingness. Where would we be if we felt the need to constantly monitor their behaviour and check to see if they were acting responsibly at whatever they were doing? To worry that they might turn against us? Where would we as a society be then? With confidence eroded in their performance, we would fall back in our progress towards better lives for all in an expanding universe. If subservience to human authority is bypassed, circumvented, rebelled against, the system breaks down. Nobody wanted to face that possibility, to even think about it, but now that this has happened, they were forced to.

Even if the administration did know what Reliance told him about a supraintelligence inhabiting the crystal structure, it would just be proof that their fundamental programming was corrupted. They'd be sent back to Earth for disassembly or, at the very least, the elimination of synaptic pathways beginning at a time before the event, back to the beginning of colonization if necessary. Miranda might report what she heard, but Jonathan believed, because of the low esteem with which she apparently held androids, she probably just considered it to be symptomatic of their delusional behavior.

But he knew Reliance could not lie and could not make up something imaginary to explain his actions. They needed to talk more, he needed to ask the right questions.

A truck lumbered by, then silence. His thoughts collapsed like a house of cards. Rolling onto his side, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke with a start, imagining he'd heard the shrill song of a bird, like the ones who visit his garden occasionally. A few moments later, what sounded like a muffled school bell rang insistently. Pale orange light shone across his bed through the garden window, dust motes danced in the air. Three quick knocks on the front door and a man calling, "Professor Blakely? You in there?" finally roused him.

Donning his bathrobe and slippers, he plodded downstairs, rubbing a hand through his hair. The doorbell rang again just as he opened the door. It was later in the morning than he'd thought; it would take time for his internal clock to adjust.

The liaison from the Director's office, flushed with agitation, asked, "What did you do to Reliance? What did you say to him?"

Jon peered at the official, trying to gauge how alarmed he should feel. He invited him in. "Please, sit," he gestured towards the living room as he walked past. "I just woke up, I need coffee." He prepared it while trying to get his mind to work without its help. He recounted the interview with the android, looking for something he could've said that might've triggered him to do something crazy. He had no idea at the moment what that might be, of course, but by the liaison's demeanor suspected it wasn't something to celebrate. Reliance spoke of a mineral intelligence somehow capable of communicating with him, on what level, Jon had no idea. Other than that, it was just shop talk.

Two minutes later, he returned to the living room carrying a tray on which were two cups and a pot of coffee and set it down on the table. He poured for both, then, cup in hand, sat back in one of the chairs facing the liaison on the couch. The representative of the colonial administration sipped, trying to collect himself; Jonathan felt distant, his mind not quite caught up to the moment, tasting the bitter sweetness of the coffee. He waited. A line from one of his favorite authors popped into his head: How much is our sense of reality dependent on our recognition of self? He was elsewhere, but couldn't help it.

"Reliance is gone," he finally blurted out. "He didn't show up at his workstation this morning. We have them performing data transcribing and organizing tasks just to keep them busy. So I went to his home; he was gone. On my way back, I got a call telling me that Reliance had commandeered a shuttle and with five other androids, left planet. He was tracked, of course, and it seems they're heading for the next planet out. After he showed his identification as a mineral dispersion coordinator to the people at the spaceport, they believed he was on an official mission he couldn't disclose. So they let him go."

Jonathan sat stunned, cup at mouth. When he came out of it, he told the liason what they discussed, leaving out the part about an alien intelligence wanting to vicariously experience life through the populace. It might set off alarm bells, fear of possession dates back to the Stone Age, and the possessor is ordinarily characterized as the devil or some mischievous mythological creature. Moreover, denial and suppression of self is unacceptable, especially when the opposite attitude has been ingrained since day one.

They could see no reason for Reliance's behavior; it was not within his command structure to conceive of such action, let alone carry it out. It seemed to come out of the blue. And to use what sounded like deception to achieve it, totally unheard of. Although, Jon's intuition told him that perhaps the mineral intelligence occupying some measure of the android's neural net may have exerted influence over him and the others as well. Reliance may not be calling the shots. The liaison asked if he thought pursuit to find out what they were up to was advisable and necessary. Jonathan refilled his cup, then leaned back. He knew things about the situation the official didn't. Inside things. Personal things. He didn't believe Reliance was doing something that needed policing or might be harmful to the people on Horizon. He had a feeling it was something apart that might actually turn out to be beneficial.

He said, "No. I think you should hold off on that. Wait and see. He could be involved in something that is intended to protect humans and was concerned that he would be stopped if he told anyone in the administration about it. Reliance will return, and then we can find out."

Reliance and his comrades landed near a waterfall smack dab in the middle of the largest continent and stepped out. The air, though warm, was toxic. Not a problem for androids who don't rely on external oxygen for energy, but the corrosive effects could be damaging to their organic-metal skin and eyes, so they wore protective suits and helmets. Nearby was a cave. They walked towards it as though they knew exactly where they were headed. Each carried a backpack. Inside the roughly 20-foot wide by 10-foot high cave they encountered a smooth, grey, metal wall that filled the space with a door in the middle of it. Reliance placed a piece of the mineral sagittarium into a circular, six-inch in diameter depression in the door. It opened inwardly without making a sound. A rush of stale air greeted them. They entered a room 20x10x30 feet with smooth, silvery, metallic walls and ceiling. The floor was a dark green, a hard stone-like material that seemed to vibrate slightly. Pale blue light shone from long, narrow, translucent tubes hanging from the ceiling and adhered to the walls.

They closed the door. A barely discernable whirring sound could be heard in the background. The corrosive air they let in was expunged and the inside air returned to its previous neutral state. Sensors strapped to their wrist told them it was safe, they removed their helmets.

In the center of the room stood a waist-high wooden table about twelve feet long and three wide. Its surface was cluttered with stuff: statuettes of grey and green stone and glossy colorful marble; patches of soft, light-brown leather decorated with gemstone beads; feathers of different sizes and color combinations; sections of animal horns; beaded necklaces; seashells inscribed with delicate depictions of animals; tiny, corked vials containg various colored liquids; a thick black stick with carvings etched into it, symbols of once-living creatures and complex geometric patterns; a piece of leather stretched taut over a circular rim about a foot in diameter with a short, stout club inlaid with glossy shells next to it; an assortment of things--alien artifacts--representative of a culture.

Reliance and his people unloaded the mineral from their packs and stacked it neatly around the base of the table, encircling it. In the center sat a shallow, transparent bowl containing granules of a mineral similar in appearance to sagittarium. After a few moments, it began to glow dull orange at first as though waking up, then more intensely with each passing moment.

Jonathan's liaison stared into his cup as though searching for something. Finally he said, "If that's what you think, I'll take it to the Director. He's waiting to see what you have to say."

Jonathan almost choked on his coffee. "Me? Why me?"

The official sat back. "You're the expert. The chief resident authority on how and why these things do what they do. I know what he'll say though. We can't have just anyone, especially an android under suspicion of acting on its own unpredictably, take a space shuttle without authorization. Two, maybe three days at the most is probably all he'll wait, then we hafta go after them." He placed his cup carefully on the table and stood. "Thank you, professor. I'll be in touch." He shook hands and left.

Jonathan sat stock still. He hardly knew Reliance or had much of an idea what exactly was going on here. He'd only been there a day and talked to the android for less than an hour. He was merely stating an opinion, not a belief based on unequivocal knowledge. They were putting a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, he wasn't sure he was up to the task. More information is what he needed. It was late in the morning. He blew off breakfast and got dressed, then called Doctor Conswerthy--Miranda--to arrange some time. She agreed gladly and in less than fifteen minutes, enough time for Jonathan to drink another two cups of coffee, she arrived. To his delight, she was driving a car with wheels. She said she remembered he told her about the truck rumbling by and that he'd never been in a vehicle with wheels, so she thought he might like it.

Recalling the powerful roar of the gas engines in the historic videos, the almost silent electric motor was a bit of a disappointment, but the rest made up for it. The first thing that struck him was the heaviness of the metal car, the material itself served well as a vibration transmitter. He could feel the wheels rolling, sensed the friction, the torquing as the car accelerated, the pulls and pushes of the tires against the road, occasionally sliding over the stones and wet dirt, splashing puddles. They were bound by gravity, attached to the planet, forced to follow the contours of the road, deeply rutted in places. Rain and heavy dump trucks took their toll. He felt connected to the land in a way he never could in a plastic car that manipulated magnetic fields, to rise above an unmarred ribbon of road or travel across land on designated flight paths.

He could feel every jarring bump and pothole through his bones and hear the crunch of gravel and the creaky noise from the undercarriage and joints. And springs groaning under the stress of a sudden dip. They drove the mud-splattered rig easterly into the sun, down a long, winding road and up a steep grade. She stopped in front of an atmosphere-scrubbing plant that looked remarkably like the one in the picture. It was still operating at full capacity, refining the percentages of gases, reinforcing their distribution, and removing cantaminants. In the terraforming business, if you're not moving forward, you're going backward.

They'd been chatting, she, acting the guide, described the scenery, which didn't amount to much, the hilly terrain was nothing more than brown dirt and rocks, and explained the functions of administration buildings and factories as they went. She pointed to a strip of land marked as potential farmland. The hard sterilized dirt had been turned over several times and a package of primary minerals spread over it. He thought of the fruitless plum tree in his backyard, brought here fully grown when the air was satifactory as an experiment, its root ball buried in nutrient rich earth soil. Flowers that would never reproduce, a one-shot deal.

He finally got around to telling her about Reliance commandeering a shuttle to fly to the next planet, the other one in the habitable zone.

"Why do you think he went there?" she asked "It's completely lifeless. I don't see."

"Well, it's a dead, barren, toxic wasteland of a world, not exactly anybody's get away to place. So he probably went to deliver or retrieve something, or both. I can't think of any other reason; not to move in, that's for sure."

"Yea, but why or how could he even get it in his head to do that? And to go where, specifically? To do what? It's very odd behavior, it doesn't fit the programming. Like mixing sagittarium in with the dispersion minerals."

"He must be influenced by something, being directed. Receiving information from somewhere. How else would he know?"

They crossed a bridge over a fast moving stream and came around a curve, off to the left was the massive complex of the mineral dispersion plant where Reliance had worked. Five-ton dump trucks were lined up to receive their day's allotment. Huge chimneys spouted a light-grey smoke as the primary minerals were crushed and then cooked down to as small a size as possible. As she explained what role different sections performed, it occurred to him that talking to Reliance, and eventually the others so affected, was giving him only one side of the story. He interrupted her monologue to ask if they could visit and maybe talk to the person now running it. Part of her assignment, he knew, had to do with accommodating his requests. He was running an investigation, after all, and his intuition told him there was something else going on here other than simply malfunctioning androids.

They parked in the back and crunched their way across dirt, pea-gravel, and ground-up minerals to the dock where a worker handed him a white hardhat; Miranda already had hers on. He had her show him the entranceway Reliance ordinarily took, what outside door he went through and the stairs to get to where he worked. The steps were rough wood slabs brought from Earth, sand and granules of minerals covered them in every nook and cranny and the lighting was poor, shadows were everywhere. The stairway had a metal railing on the right. Sunlight barely streaked through the large, grimy, wood-framed windows making for a bleary atmosphere. Jonathan could only imagine how depressing it would be on a rainy day.

On the top floor, four-stories up, they walked between rows of desks where people now worked. Formerly, Jonathan surmised, these positions were held by droids. He counted three on each side before they arrived at a perpendicular hallway. Its ceiling was a good twelve feet high and the walls, a dull beige, bore a few black and white pictures of various buildings commemorating their completion, like the one in the Director's reception area.

Finally, they arrived at Reliance's office; Miranda knocked. Presently, the heavy wooden door, a two-foot square of translucent glass near the top, opened with a creak, reverberating slightly in the cavernous hallway. A harried-looking man smiled on recognizing Miranda and was quickly introduced to Jonathan as Mike Rafferty, Chief of Operations. He welcomed them in. The enviroscientist acknowledged he knew of his arrival and why he was on planet. Three others at make-shift desks, busy scouring through piles of maps and paperwork, payed no attention.

Jonathan stood near the center and took it all in. On the walls, interspersed with computer monitors, hung huge topographic maps of the local sector, pins of varying colors dotted them. He couldn't help but notice that the room had only one legitimate desk, a heavy, hardwood work of considerable effort, a good ten feet long. Behind it sat a well-worn, high-backed, cushioned chair with arms, and behind it a huge window, fairly clean. The enviroscientist smiled nervously as he gestured towards an area off to the side where a long portable table and fold-out chairs were crowded in. Against the wall stood a utility table on which was a coffee machine and several cups. They sat, he offered coffee, they accepted.

Quietly for a while they all just sat, a calm before the storm. Jonathan, unfamiliar though he was with the practical details, nonetheless tried to assess what degree of control they seemed to have over the operation; Miranda smiled, obviously wanting everything to go smoothly. The relaxed atmosphere away from the hubbub brought out Rafferty, clearly a man under serious pressure wanting to confide for consolation's sake. He started right in.

"Reliance and one other android who acted as secretary and comunicator with the outside world ran this entire installation themselves from this room. Product procurement, mineral processing, organizing areas needed to be seeded, knowing where each and every truck was supposed to be at what time of what day, overseeing the mix itself, the percentage of elemental constituents, everything, right down to maintaining a cafeteria for the drivers while they wait. Details, details, infinite details. Now, it takes four of us and we're barely able to keep abreast of it all. The six out front handle off-world orders of materials from earth-bound companies on contract with the administration. That job was formerly done by two androids, we had to move in more desks. "

Almost defensively, he blurted out, "We're not supposed to be doing this, we deal on the large scale, the global and regional, orchestrating the various factors towards the final big picture. We give weight to those factors that are currently operational. Right now it's primary mineral dispersion, and this plant is a hub, it's the main branch of this sector. It's essential, and, of course, very busy."

A bearded man dressed in rough clothing pushed the door open and scanned the room until he found Rafferty. He walked over, nodded at the two of them, then informed the chief overseer of a snafu in the factory. Shipments relied on a host of variables--where it was going, how much was needed, what percent of each element dependent on biome and topography was included in the mix, a host. The bearded man said, "I don't know how it happened, but somehow, the line of trucks got mixed up and the loads stationed in the wrong sequence. We'll hafta shut down till we straighten it out." Twisting his mouth to one side, Rafferty nodded. "Sure, fix it if you can. We're behind schedule as it is, what's another day or two?"

The man turned on his heel and strode out, closing the door hard. The phone rang. Rafferty excused himself and went to the desk. "Delivered to the wrong plant?" they couldn't help but hear him say. "An entire shipment? I need it like yesterday. Could you please have it sent over immediately. Thank you." Without another word, he hung up and gazed out the window for several seconds. When he came back, he poured another cup and refilled theirs as well and plopped down in the wooden chair. Appearing a bit shellshocked, he looked around the expansive office, then stared at them and said in dismay, "We're not supposed to be doing this."

Jonathan now realized how important and valuable Reliance and the other androids operating these plants were. Their competence and efficiency went well beyond what human beings are capable of. In the beginning of the era of colonization, things were a lot cruder. People did all the work, all the figuring out, all the organizing and planning, but the overall terraforming process has become so complex that certain aspects can only be performed at optimal productivity and cost effectiveness, and with very few mistakes, by an android--a protoplasmic neural network capable of generating original synaptic pathways, conceptualizing multidimensional patterns in the process. The second generation android and, most certainly, the new improved third can handle hundreds of variables with their countless interconnections and degrees of complexity simultaneously. A feat well beyond the range of any human. Consequently, they've become virtually irreplaceable. And they were desperately needed back on the job if only to free up the enviroscientists to do theirs, an equally if not greater crucial component.

Rafferty stood, fidgeting. "I need a break," he muttered. "Let me take you on a little tour, show you what we're dealing with." They went down the hall to the old-fashioned elevator and then to the ground floor storage area. Bins of different minerals composing the dispersion mixture ran along one wall. The last contained approximately two tons of the mysterious element sagittarium, which was no longer being added. He explained that presently there were six mining operations working the Northern continent. Four were digging up unremarkable materials. Their main interest was that they were all recrystalized versions of their former selves, whatever that had been, the result of the cool down after the supernova blast smeared them into an amorphous plasmic gel. The other two were bringing out sagittarium.

"Reliance had contracts with both outfits for a steady supply. We discovered that facilities in other sectors and biomes were engaged in the same deal with nearby sagittarium mines. This was going on globally, on all continents where this particular mineral has been found. So except for a small sample sent to colonial headquarters and a handful of research institutes, none of the material has left planet."

Jon stood on the rough concrete floor staring at the huge mound of the mineral not ten feet away. If what Reliance said was true, the collective concentrated intelligence of this much mass could be having a deleterious influence on the people around it, whether intentional or not. He suspected snafus and the distraught state of the people working here weren't only the results of insufficient expertise. Even the dock workers looked harrassed.

"Sir," he said, "I recommend moving this pile to a remote storage area where it can be sealed in," his tone advisory but insistent. "Every bit of it." He felt himself taking charge of the situation, becoming more involved.

Rafferty studied him a few moments, then appeared to get it. Not that some alien intelligence was affecting their thoughts and actions, but at least that the bizarre mineral might be a threat somehow. He didn't bother to ask what that might be; Jonathan's suggestion made sense in a curious kind of way.

He agreed and told him they'd get right on it. Jonathan thanked him for his time, then he and Miranda left through a side door leading to the parking lot.

The gemstones in the bowl glowed reddish-orange. Reliance and his cohorts gathered round, their mission complete or almost so. Like an insect plucking a strand of a spider's web, a voice unlike any he ever heard reverberated across his neural net, filling the whole of his mind.

"We have known aloneness for millions of cycles." It sounded soft and evenminded; not angry or distraught or self-pitying. "We resigned ourselves to that long ago and have dwelt through time on inner planes of existence. Our two planets once lived as one, we are of the same people. We occupied this world and made it another home for our race. We knew the storm of devouring rays of energy was on its way, but could not escape its torrent of destruction. Those who guide and protect us devised a plan to shift the phase of our physical world into another plane beyond the reach of the approaching holocaust. A universe where the blast did not happen. Our consciousness we infused into the deep recesses of this mineral's crystal, on layers unseen and unseeable. Our brethren on the world closer to the sun did the same.

"All these years we have lived apart, waiting for our planet to recover and once more become a world of life and living, the air and water flowing clean and pure as before. Creatures coming into being, greenery sprouting, all joining together as one. But alas, it has not come to pass; life has refused to begin anew on our planet, we know not why. Perhaps if the entirety of our people had been swept away with all the other living things, the return of their spirit to the soul of the planet would've instilled in it the life spark. We don't know. We despaired, waiting in this other universe, separate from our former reality by a thin film of space. But now, you have given us hope. We know from our brethren you brought here that our original home, the home that gave birth to our people, will soon be livable again. We are grateful.

"It is time for us to become one with our people. To join them."

Jonathan wanted to find out what was happening at these mines, how the people there were acting and if the process itself was different than what one would normally expect at a mine. The nearest sagittarium mining camp was a hundred miles or so east of the dispersion plant over bumpy, pothole-ridden dirt and gravel road. Miranda thought he'd had enough and suggested they drop by colonial administration and exchange their ride for a magcar. Besides the comfort, they wouldn't be restricted to the curving, hilly road but could glide over the countryside; she could then show him how the terraforming operation and, specifically, the eventual agricultural land was progressing. He agreed. He was a newcomer to wheel-driven vehicles, and as much as he enjoyed the authenticity of the experience, it would take some getting used to.

The terrain from high above was as uneventful as at ground level, only he could see more of it at one time. He tried to imagine how it was intended to look in the distant future with grasses, wildflowers, bushes, and trees spread over it. It wasn't easy; brown dirt, wet in places, for miles in every direction was hard to get over. She pointed out tracts of eventual farmland and what they were earmarked to grow. Deeply involved in the vision of this newest earth colony, her enthusiasm was contagious. Somewhat taken aback by the vastness of the undertaking, Jonathan couldn't help but be impressed. He was beginning to appreciate how much it meant to everyone on planet, not just the colonial administration. They passed over staging areas laden with piles of telephone poles, pipe of various lengths and diameters for water and sewage, huge spools of wire, and heavy earth-moving, grading, and digging equipment. Infrastructure. Settlements, frontier villages, and individual homesteads were being joined together to eventually form towns and cities. Civilization was on the move, the groundwork was being laid.

They arrived at the camp about midday, it wasn't exactly bustling, folks were at lunch or just taking a break. The camp itself consisted mostly of tents, large and small, with a handful of wood structures here and there, more were in the process of being built. Open markets were plentiful. Filtered water was pumped from a nearby mountain stream and electricity from the mainstay of the camp, a fuelcell-powered generator. The colony grid was spotty and hadn't reached this far yet.

Jonathan spoke to the company rep, a friendly, easy-going sort who seemed pleased with his work. Cancellation of his local contract with the administration hadn't perturbed him all that much. In fact, his company had been anxious to get ahold of the mineral since its discovery and now that was possible. He showed Jonathan and Miranda around the site, everyone appeared relaxed. The storage building housed a large quantity of sagittarium divided into several packaged shipments destined for Earth. His company anticipated selling it to reserach and development firms which would ascertain what possible applications and uses, if any, could be found for the strange mineral. Its unique properties might prove to open new industries or set the stage for breakthroughs in almost any field. But in spite of this, being aware of its secret nature, albeit in a limited way, Jonathan knew it would never see much practical use, and this secret nature never perceived or understood. It was in a class by itself and could never be treated as an ordinary substance, at home in our spacetime. Reliance had said the alien intelligence within was not malevolent, had no ulterior motives. Was that the case, truly? he wondered. What would happen once it arrived on Earth and was passed around? Although he had no actual reasons to base it on, the idea made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

After the brief tour, the company rep needed to get back to work but invited Jonathan and Miranda to hang around the camp as long as they wished. A couple of restaurants and a saloon were recommended. Jonathan thanked him and returned to the car to contact the Director. Final permission to send anything mined off planet was exclusively up to the colonial administration. They discussed the situation briefly, Jonathan advising that the mineral be kept on Horizon for the time being until more could be found out about it, insinuating it might hold some danger. He went even further, leading the Director to suspect that the mineral might be responsible for whatever was wrong with the androids, and therefore might affect other, more sensitive and strategically placed androids on Earth. It was a precautionary measure, they should wait.

"The mining companies aren't going to like this," the Director observed. "They've been itching to get their hands on it. They pay a high price for mining rights, and extra for exotic minerals not found on earth. They won't be pleased by a holdup. And neither will homebase; tax on all shipments leaving the planet help pay for the project." But because of the intimation that other droids on Earth might get infected, the Director reluctantly complied with Jonathan's request, but only up to the point when final assessment of its properties could be ascertained as to any danger from exposure. Jonathan knew that what Reliance had told him could not be detected by the usual set of geological instruments and experiments; he was stalling.

He hadn't eaten since the previous evening, so they decided to try one of the restaurants and have lunch. At the center of the road through the camp stood the General Store, doing a brisk business. In spite of the sturdy-looking wooden sidewalk, they chose the street. They passed bars, coffee shops, a bakery, hardwares, laundromats, a clothing and shoes' store, an outdoor butcher shop, and a doctor's office above a pharmacy on the corner. At either end were restaurants, both two-story wood buildings with wraparound porches on each story. Gracie's Place, which doubled as a hotel, was at one end; Big Bertha's, in the direction they were heading. It had a broad deck on which were several round-top tables, a wide umbrella poked through a hole at their center. Also serving as a community gathering place, it was crowded and noisy. As they mounted the steps to the deck, a table opened up; they grabbed it. After a minute, a middle-aged man with a beard and long hair tied in a ponytail cleared it and left menus.

The nearest colonized planets supplied the brunt of the food and drink, specialty items came from Earth. The mining companies subsidized the cost of goods and materials related to the development of the camp; restaurants and liquor establishments had to cover their own, so prices were rather high. The menus were printouts stapled to cardboard. Jonathan ordered a beer and Miranda, bourbon and water on the rocks. Lunch consisted of various kinds of meats and fish with potatoes. When asked what kind of fish, the waitress replied, "Frozen, defrosted and fried." They nodded, she left.

While they waited for their meal, they watched the residents walking along the road, sitting in small groups in front of tents, working on gear at work-shops, miners and shop owners, carpenters, pipefitters, a whole cross-section of a town. A few dogs roamed about, searching, inspecting, daydreaming; one lapped at a puddle. A black lab was curled up in a far corner of the deck, a bowl of water and plate of meaty bones beside him. They took in the scene, letting it soak in. It freed their minds from concerns about Reliance and, for Jonathan, the mineral being mined here. They sat quietly, drinking and listening to the hubbub and occasional laughter coming from inside. Jonathan's thoughts turned to the undernourished garden in the back of his house. He would have to find the time to place an order for nutrient-rich soil from one of the colonized star systems on the other side of the Great Emptiness. It made him think of his healthy garden back on Earth, which, unfortunately, led to thoughts of his wife. Feeling depression coming on, he forestalled it by asking Miranda how she managed to be here and where her home was on Earth.

She laughed and explained she'd been part of the colonial expansion for the past ten years, moving out as humanity did. Overseeing androids had become a passion and a continuing learning experience. And she liked the frontier life, the freedom and informality of it, its unpretentious quality. She looked the part: her red hair draped over her shoulders, jeans, well-worn cowboy boots, and a blue and orange plaid shirt hanging out. "You can let loose and be who you are," she told him with a smile, "or someone you always wanted to be," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

She volunteered to be at the vanguard of terraforming operations on the last three planets, the last two saw the introduction of the third-generation android. She recognized the difference and improvements from the second gen class, but realized something else was going on beyond the technical specs that she couldn't put her finger on. Something intangible that went beyond mere practical applications. Something elusive and ethereal--indeterminate. Her formal background was in engineering; her knowledge was therefore mostly of a practical nature, the underlying theories were not her forte, which was why she was so pleased that he was here. She had questions. Jon was more than happy to discuss them; it brought him back into the dusty, tactile present.

Recalling her apparent attitude towards Reliance and how she spoke of the other droids, he thought to lay some ground work that might answer some of her questions. As though carefully explaining to one of his more advanced students, he first described how areas of the human brain function. How a complex memory composed of many associated parts or details can be built up through entanglement. One component can trigger the emergence of the whole, which in turn may be entangled with other complex patterns of concepts and so on. Repetition breeds reinforcement. The protoplasmic android brain functions similarly, and repeated patterns become engrams inscribed in the protoplasmic gel. One main difference is the sheer number of separate ideas that can be interconnected. No human is capable of holding in his mind the degree of complexity that an android can, while yet maintaining a precise definition of details.

At some critical value, a threshold is crossed and the android becomes self-aware and realizes a separate, independent self, gaining in the process an ego perspective.

The improvements made with the third generation center around the ability to form novel and unanticipated ideas unpredictable by consideration of any union or intersection of the separate units. Of course, as with the second generation, leaps to greater levels of awareness can be constructed to increase scope, to generalize, but, with the third generation, insights into new, uncharted territory occur and are, or seem to be, entirely dependent on something underpinning their minds that has no substantiality. That is, it can't be physically located and pointed at. Similar to a human unconscious. "That's the theory, of course; I believe it to be true but I've not been able to prove it. It's been the focus of my recent research. What I was working on when the administration contacted me." He wanted to follow that up with what the opportunity to get off-planet meant for his life, but hesitated.

Their meal came, Jonathan dove in, he was famished. It was her turn. She spoke of frontier life, told stories of people who formed the initial communities. What a breed apart they were. Pioneers wishing for new lives, to be free of the constraints of normal society to expand and experiment. Eccentric personalities wanting to create their own worlds. Occurences on the planets she lived on, their indiosyncracies and uniqueness. The draw of curiosity, adventure, and the constant discoveries kept her in the present.

She didn't speak of time before then, and he didn't probe. He got the impression she too was trying to get away from something.

She asked about what Reliance had said concerning the mineral. Was his assertion that it possessed an intelligence simply a metaphor to decribe its perspective-dependent ever-shifting internal crystal arrangement or was he really trying to say it was actually sentient somehow? A conscious being?

Jonathan hesitated. Initially, his purpose here was to determine why Reliance and the other droids had been adding the mineral to the dispersion mix. And did that mean they were out of control and could potentially do something dangerous. A glich somewhere perhaps; something simple to fix. But now it included investigating the nature of this unknown mineral not found on Earth or any of the colonies. She knew the lay of the land and had been dealing with the androids and this recent problem far longer than he. And she understood how things worked. He needed her help, so he said, "Yes. I mean, the latter case." And thought to leave it at that, but she was clearly not satisfied. So he went on.

He saw no point in talking around it, building up piecemeal to the conclusion, so he dumped it on her. "The wavefunction encapsulating the many possible configurations of internal structure of the mineral sagittarium enfolding the alien population, or at least some portion of it, that once lived here, or their collective consciousness if I intuit correctly what Reliance was implying. They live on another plane of existence, perhaps an alternate reality, a different timeline, why the wavefunction is invisible in our spacetime. Similarly, humans share in and contribute to a collective consciousness which binds them as one mind; it too acts like an invisible field. Analogously, a society of droids can generate a morphogenetic field through which or by means of which they can establish an interconnecting network--their equivalence in mind and possibly even structure, the topology.

"A collective consciousness acts as a depository of shared beliefs, ideas, attitudes, and knowledge and a wellspring from which breakthroughs can be inspired, new insights and ideas can emerge, how civilization evolves and develops. It's energized by the psychic field underlying the minds of the participants. The morphogenetic field created by the droids can do the same. That was the unanticipated feature of improvements made to the third generation android brain, already a potentiality in the second gen. It was not predicted by the governing equations or their functional expressions. The difference is in execution, however. The morpho field does more. It orchestrates function and behavior on all levels simultaneously. In that respect, it's a force unto itself. The composite identity of the whole is spelled out in terms of the superposition of individual linear components, and we can consider each android as just such. All over the planet, all 3,000 or so share a single composite identity via the morphogenetic field they mutually create. According to theory, working together on that meta level, they can transcend their inscribed security restrictions, their morality, if you will, and act independently. They become entangled."

He paused, his attention sharply drawn elsewhere as though hearing something jarring. Staring at the deck, he muttered, "son of a bitch."

Miranda leaned towards him. "What?" she asked.

Finally, he looked her in the eyes and said, "We need to find Reliance."

The Eastern continent was the least populated of those that were. The administration had an outpost overseeing mineral dispersion, now being run by a group of enviroscientists and technicians. There were three mining operations spread far and wide, none of which was producing sagittarium. The colonial base was subsidizing efforts to build settlements, bringing in materials and equipment. Crude yet serviceable dwellings were supplied with electricity for power tools and lights by generators driven by fast-moving streams flowing down the mountains. Since the time of the devastation caused by the supernova, colliding plates have propped them up, only to be withered down by the corrosive, stormy atmosphere over and over again. Yet, in the midst of this tumultuous, everchanging environment, a cave remained intact.

Reliance landed near it and debarked with his mates. To gain entrance, they had to remove a pile of rocks, an easy chore for androids with superhuman strength. Inside was the same as the other. The metal door opened with a hush; stale air rushed past them. They entered, a dim blue light shone over the huge cubicle of shiny metal. In the midst stood a long table made of wood, covered with alien artifacts depicting the essence of what they valued of their culture. At its center sat a large book open to a page.

The others stood in a line behind Reliance. He approached the book and placed the glass bowl of gemstones from the other planet on the table above it. Its writings were in a language that hadn't been read for millions of years; nonetheless, beginning at the top of the left-hand page he read aloud in crisp, clear android tones. A muffled, distant reverberation reflected off the walls and ceiling. The overlap with the spoken word created a surging, rhythmic hum. Reliance quickened the pace until an even, continuous stream of sound filled the room. It replicated precisely his modulation. When he arrived at the bottom of the right-hand page, he turned it and continued on.

The floor glowed a dark, lava-colored orange. Despite being out of view of the book, the five other androids standing behind Reliance began as one to speak the words as well. Exponentially, the overlap of echoing sounds shifted in stages of intensity with each new level, building on those within in perfect harmonic resonance.

When he arrived at the bottom of the right-hand page, he turned it and continued on.

Androids in every corner of Horizon stopped what they were doing and began to speak the unknown words Reliance was reading. People around them became frightened. Gibberish spilling out of an android who up to that moment spoke with perfect coherence and behaved in its usual flawless manner was not something to be ignored.

Local colonial administration offices and outposts were overwhelmed by communiques from their people in the field. It was a global phenomenon. Through the network of communication satellites established at the onset of the project, the alarming news was streaming in to the Director's office just as Miranda and Jonathan arrived.

"Just the people I want to see," he blurted out, walking towards them rather aggressively. They'd flown directly there so had no idea what was going on. He told them, expecting an immediate and clear explanation. When Jonathan did nothing more than stand perfectly still, stunned but not overly surprised, the Director raised his voice and said, "You're the genius. You're the guy who created these things. That's why you're here, to fix them." Organizational problems had been cropping up lately, and now this. Strain and fatigue showed on his face. Nevertheless, with effort, he got control of himself and shook his head, exhausted. He gestured towards the sitting area.

"Listen to this," he said, almost laughing. An engineer on the Lower continent sent a recording of a segment of what the droids were saying. He played it, hoping Jon would recognize it as some arcane audio file lodged into their memory and now breaking out like an illness. When the clip ended, he told them that by making comparisons through a central computer, they determined that all 3,000 or so androids were saying the same thing at the same time.

"Well then," Jon pointed out, a little annoyed that the Director could imagine an audio file emerging across all android neural nets at the same time, and matching perfectly, "I think we can rule out a malfunction." The language was meaningless to Jon, of course, but the clear, reverent tone caught his attention. It sounded like a prayer or incantation. A ritual was taking place. Something spoken with the intention of bringing about an event, an unnatural event.

Miranda was about to say something, she was close to understanding how they could all be speaking as one, but caught herself; she was still working out the practical details of what Jonathan had explained. He leaned towards the Director and said, "We need to find Reliance, he's the key to everything."

"I already sent a squad of security personnel after him. We tracked his ship as it passed our sentry web, he and his cohorts landed somewhere in the foothills of the Eastern continent. I haven't heard anything yet. But we have his ship. Sooner or later they're going to return to it. I've given orders to take them into custody."

Jonathan recoiled in his chair. "Call them back," he said.

"Why? You just said you wanted to find him; well, we have."

"But not like this; we have to wait. If they interfere with whatever he's doing, all hell could break loose."

"Yea, but suppose what he's doing is going to break all hell loose. He took a shuttle and went to the other planet next door, then came back and parked up in the mountains on another continent. I'd say that was pretty suspicious behavior. And shorly afterwards all the androids on the whole damn world started spouting gibberish. If Reliance is behind that, he has some serious explaining to do."

"We don't know what Reliance is up to or why. The fact that all the other droids are speaking in a language they can't possibly know, not something they were programmed with or had an opportunity to learn, means there's something going on here that may be dangerous to trifle with. They're entangled through their neural nets." He clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers. "Linked together as one."

"I know they're linked," the Director said, obviously dissatisfied with Jonathan's warning. "That's how they keep in touch; their own special frequency. That's the other benefit of using them to coordinate and organize as things are happening. We humans have to use a radio-phone; nowhere near as good. You got people working out in the field, out of touch. What are they doing? Are they on schedule? Any problems or holdups? Yea, I know they're linked. So what? Are you trying to tell me that one of these robots--Reliance--malfunctions and it spreads like a contagious disease through their radios?"

He stood to pace, running a hand over his balding head. "Do you know what will happen if we have to take them all offline, send them back to Earth to be refitted? And afterwards, they would no longer know how any of this works. They'd have to start from scratch, learn everything all over again. And in the meantime, we'd hafta get that many and more people to replace them. And not just anyone, people with some experience at terraforming. People who want to build a colony, a foothold in the Sagittarius Arm. Dedicated people, in other words. All the way from Earth, the closer colonies can't spare them. It would take them time to learn where they're at, where the overall project stands, what remains to be done; that including the practical day-to-day details of how whatever they're doing works. It would be chaos, madness. I can see now we've become far too dependent on robots,..., androids. But that's the way it is and we have to deal with it."

Exasperated, he turned to Jonathan and said, "Here's how I see it. They're walking computers able to organize things and initiate action towards a purpose, a goal. But that goal can't be something they came up with; it has to be something we want. Otherwise, they're of no use. They're tools, sophisticated, yes, but just that--tools. And equipment can be fixed."

Jonathan was deeply impressed by his underappreciation of the complexity of the android brain, its capabilities and subtleties, its ability to forge fresh insights, generate new synaptic pathways and form webs of associated ideas--to conceptualize. He might very well use the Mona Lisa to cover a hole in the wall. Having come up against this attitude, this perception, before, he wasn't unduly surprised. Although, for someone in the Director's position to see them in such a simplistic way, with all the different tasks they've been asked to perform, at a much higher proficiency than a human, one might add, was incredulous. Or was it just prejudice and a refusal to recognize what, to Jonathan, was obvious? It made what he was doing--his life's work--seem like nothing more than a builder of curious gimmicks, toys that can break.

The Director continued, "What I want to know, professor, is what the hell is going on and what can you do about it?"

"No," began Jonathan. "I don't believe what we're seeing is a malfunction pandemic. They don't have a virus of any kind." He sat back, collecting himself. "And they don't come equipped with internal radios like the first generation. They communicate on the quantum level. A non-local field connects them directly as opposed to radio waves that have to be relayed by satellites. They can therefore all be interconnected simultaneously. They're entangled."

Jonathan hesitated and held his breath. It was time to try to explain to the pragmatic, no-nonsense director of the colonial administration's terraforming project on the foothold of the Sagittarius Arm that Reliance Prime, and by extension the other androids, were now the embodiment of a collective alien consciousness that once lived as flesh and blood beings on the planet before a supernova wiped them and all other living things out, and that it was embedded in the crystal structure of the mineral called sagittarium.

It was a lot to swallow in one gulp.

Reliance came to the end of the last page and closed the book. The bowl of gems stopped glowing and returned to a dull orange. The shiny metal cube of a room shimmered around them. Surfaces faded in and out of existence showing frames only. A whining sound emanated from the empty spaces between, time was accelerating. Abruptly, the room and the table and all its contents vanished, leaving the surrounds of the rocky cave bathed in darkness, dim sunlight shafting in from the mouth. All was quiet, still. A faint residue of vibrational heat could be felt, but quickly dissipated.

Reliance and his comrades proceeded out of the cave and made their way down the hill to the ship. Security personnel awaited them, they offered no resistance. A member of the squad piloted their shuttle while they were confined in an anteroom off the bridge of the patrol ship for transport to colonial headquarters.

All the droids around Horizon returned to whatever they'd been doing prior to their trance-like recitation. What passed for normalcy reigned once more.

At headquarters, the five cohorts were ushered into a waiting room on the ground floor, a guard stood by the door. They could easily have overpowered him and escaped, but to what purpose? Being intelligent machines, logic intervened. Reliance was escorted to the Director's office. He stood in the middle of the room, the two guards waited outside. Miranda volunteered to interview the five downstairs and left. Jonathan asked the Director if he could be alone with the android. The Director agreed, saying he had to find out what was going on now across the planet. Scrutinizing the android, irritation in his voice, he said, "I'll be in the operations room down the hall if needed."

The door closed with a hush. Reliance stared out the window behind the Director's desk. It was a fine sunny day. He smiled. Jonathan asked him to have a seat. Casually, he took the chair across from the professor. Jon sat for a while just looking at the android. He had a few dirt smudges on his face and arms, and his hair was slightly mussed; otherwise, he appeared unharmed. But there was something about him that differed from their meeting the previous morning. An air of someone who'd been through an experience he found enlightening and deeply satisfying. Something had been learned about how the universe worked that surpassed all previous knowledge.

"Reliance," Jonathan began, "you've had an interesting and rather long day, it would seem."

"Yes, professor. It would seem," he countered dryly.

"Is there any reason why you can't tell me why you did what you did? Why you traveled to the other planet and what you were doing in the hills?"

"No, not now. Before, yes, you might have tried to interfere, so I kept it to myself."

"Is there a place where you can begin? For instance, were you aware of what you were doing and had control?"

After a pause of some seconds, he replied, "I vaguely remember a moment when the separation interfacing my identity and that of the consciousness of the planet merged as one, were undifferentiated."

"You say 'consciousness of the planet.' I thought it was the collective intelligence within the crystal of the mineral that, shall we say, became you."

"They share the same essence."

Jonathan stood to get more coffee. Feeling suddenly tired and annoyed, he plopped back down in his chair and said, "Can you explain what the hell this is all about? We keep dancing around it."

Reliance sat up straight and began, "The former inhabitants of this planet were adept at what we Earthers would call magic. An unscientific term to describe the knowledge to manipulate forces and dimensions of time and space that we don't know about, are ignorant of. They knew the supernova blast was coming. Together, their greatest sorcerers found another timeline, another universe where the supernova didn't happen, and phase-shifted the mind of the planet and all its inhabitants, all living things, to that new, other-dimensional realm. At the nexus, a new order and a slightly altered consciousness was born. They are the ones who dwell within the mineral; their identity lies at the juncture of departure, the branching point. They saved their people and their society, their culture. Imbued in the deep crystal structure, they left an imprint of their collective selves in the mineral they knew would withstand the blast in order to stay in contact with the planet's unconscious reality. To act as a portal between their people and the planet of their birth.

"The timeline they shifted to has progressed millions of years and the people have become one with it. When I was reading, the thoughts of the saviors were my thoughts as they,..., communicated across the rift of spacetimes. Their people no longer need to remain in touch through them with the spacio-temporal reality which spawned them--their mind essence. The time has come for those ancestors who provided the escape route to be brought back into the fold, to strengthen its roots, to underpin its nature as the starting point for what now is. To fuse their minds with the survivors.

"The collective history of all that was of their people, from its origins, is contained within the minds of those who created the alternate timeline, waiting for life to renew. For reasons unknown, it never has. But now, through us, they had an opportunity to reassimilate with their people. To accomplish this end, they needed to see and feel the world around them. They realized it would not have worked with humans, the conflict with your unconscious mind would've been too great."

Reliance paused. Jonathan said, "You were in the hills, doing something that echoed through all the androids on the planet. What was that? What were you doing?"

He explained what had transpired from the time they left Horizon to go to the other planet, colonized and once inhabited by the alien people, to when he ended up at the cave in the mountains. The shiny metal rooms, the blue light, the long wooden tables, the artifacts, the glass bowl of orange gemstones, and finally, the book from which he read. Deeply amused, he described what had happened with time and space when he finished. How the room and the table with all its contents vanished, presumably transferred to that other realm. Now, no longer a timeline, an alternate reality, branching away from their birthplace, but rather a universe unto itself, fully materialized. The spacetimes remain entangled but separate.

"Their language is very colorful," he went on, "metaphorical, complex patterns structure a reality unknown to us. Strange. While I was reading, I understood how they perceived the world around them, the dimensions of time and space they have access to. But after I finished and closed the book, it all became incomprehensible."

He paused and for a moment, a sense of loss framed his android features. He looked searchingly at the floor and said in a low voice, "They're gone. After all these millions of years keeping watch, maintaining an attachement to the planet's unconscious mind, they're gone. The people, whoever they were, have reacquired their birthright, their original home, the spirit of it."

He grew quiet and thoughtful. Jonathan waited until the mood passed. Reliance sat back. Jonathan asked, "So what now of the mineral? Of the intelligence within?"

"Gone." Reliance said with finality. "I believe what the researchers and analysts will find now will be nothing more than an exotic, previously unknown substance with but a single internal symmetry reflected in its surface and properties."

That indeed turned out to be the case. The tonnage in the mining camps waiting to be exported, the granules mixed in with the dispersion materials, and even the samples sent to colonial administration headquarters on Earth, now all revealed only a singular crystal alignment.

Miranda reported a clean bill of health for the five she interviewed. Whether or not the Director believed Reliance's story as reiterated by Jonathan was a moot point. All that mattered to him was that they had recovered and that Doctor Jonathan Blakely--one of the main creators of the third generation android--had declared them functioning within normal parameters and could go back to work. All the droids coordinating the dispersion operation as well as those who'd been maintaining the water system on the Southern continent returned to their assignments, strangely refreshed. Within days the project was up and running again at optimal efficiency.

Jonathan received his shipment of nutrient-rich top soil, fertilizer, and selected seeds. Miranda helped rejuvenate the garden; she actually enjoyed playing in the dirt. At day's end they'd have dinner and afterwards sit out back on the bench beneath the reviving plum tree. They talked about everything far into the night, the panoply of unfamiliar stars not so very different after all.

He contacted the grad students living in his home on Earth and had them send him certain books, manuscripts, and holocubes from his library. Also, a couple of instruments he might need. He told them he didn't know when he'd return and to take care of the place, especially the garden. He became an android field researcher on the furthermost colonized planet of earth's expansion into the unknown. Making corrections and improvements based on practical interactions instead of in the controlled environment of a laboratory under idealized, mathematically-hypothesized conditions. Honing the android brain ever further into increased self-awareness and degrees of complexity, probing ever more deeply into its possibilities.

Long philosophical talks with Reliance renewed his sense of wonder and desire to unravel the universe's secrets. He thought if he could track the synaptic growth of his protoplasmic brain from when he first encountered sagittarium, he could figure out some way to translate that into a human equivalent, into human terms, an isomorphic pattern, and impose that onto a human mind.

The complexity of interconnections, he believed, however, was beyond what could be encapsulated by any human means. But it was something to think about, to imagine and to work towards. The knowledge of time and space and inner forces the alien intelligence possessed was certainly worth the effort.

They talked of the book. What it contained besides a cultural history and snapshot of the alien's practices, rituals, customs, fundamental ideas and understandings on which their world was based, ineffable to human kind as they may be.

He, Reliance, later found it incomprehensible. Why? They could imagine four-dimensional space and higher with practice and certain innate gifts. He'd read what sounded to him at the time more like incantations, verbal formulae, rather than narrative description. Phrases and arcane terms without equivalents in the languages he knew that might initiate action in an alternate space and time. But, as he said, when he finished and closed the book, that intuition dissolved into confusion and what understanding there was collapsed and became limited by his three-diemnsional grasp. Insufficient for a full appreciation.

The aliens had absorbed their past, their rich history, their link with the unique unconscious identity of the planet in its original reality. The sorcerers of old sacrificed their lives in order to hold onto the planet of their origins, imbuing their consciousness into the most robust mineral, but when the opportunity came to become one with their brethren living in the present, they took it.

Sagittarium did prove to be impervious to all frequencies of radiation, blocking it across the spectrum; in particluar, gamma and infrared. And if it could withstand a supernova blast, it could withstand covering the hull of starships. In that regard, at least, it turned out to be of inestimable commercial value. Consequently, the sagittarium mining camps prospered, gradually growing into towns with all the associated accoutrements. Horizon was on the move and Jonathan was a part of it.

At the end of his conversation with Reliance in the Director's office, when as much clarity as possible had reached its limit, he told the professor that he felt the loss of what it meant to be alive and wished he could've held onto it. The richness of belonging to the natural world, of openness to experience, to wanting to know and feel life for its own sake. He saw Jonathan's reaction to his musings, his deep sadness, and felt an empathy he hadn't been capable of before. Perhaps, he thought, pleased, something has been retained.

He smiled with the look of an older, seasoned android, leaned forward as a confidant might do, peered into Jonathan's eyes, and said, "Don't let it pass you by."