“There is no difference between saving lives and extending lives, because in both cases we’re giving people the chance of more life.”

Aubrey de Grey, (2007)

 

The Sun that rose high into the vibrant azure sky was as bright as the brand-new day.

It’s spreading light played & danced across the shining spires and gently – bulbous domes that spanned the wide – expanse of the fabulous Circle – city, prismatic inversions dappling rainbow colors reflecting on opposing surfaces, tiny secrets waiting for the eye to discover.

As Doctor Voe and Six of Eleven walked slowly together down the arcing span of a high walkway, the salt – tang of the mantling – ocean hung like a suggestion on the freshening morning breeze that gently stirred the brilliant leaves of potted plants like miniature jungles mired in concrete.

All about them the vibrant urban space thronged with life, as the Garsedi went around their daily rituals and routines, compelled in one direction or the other by habit, volition, intuit or assignation.

The Deltan physician smiled broadly and pausing,  lifted his smooth features and closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation of the warming sun on his skin. He let out a sigh of contentment.

“It’s remarkable really isn’t it?” Denah murmured as he re-opened his dark eyes and placed his hands on the guard rail. An air – vehicle cut the air directly beneath him with a reverberating hum and angled graceful up into the gradually-dissipating morning haze to join the long-serried lines of similar craft that crisscrossed the azure spaced between the Stratoscrapers and their long shadows.

“H’mmm? What is?” Six muttered. The golden glow effusing from the ocular implant that still colonized her left eye-socket told the Doctor that the engineers mind was elsewhere, most likely checking up remotely on the progress of repairs to the USS Kirk as she lay in an outer spacedock cradle within Framheim Stations Outer – Operating Area and underwent the long process to heal the wounds incurred at the Hellworld.

Ironically the same Hecate#7b that they stood on now, yet not that place.

Denah Voe frowned, the gesture wrinkling his forehead all the way up to his bald head. He turned around and rested his elbows on the rail and gestured casually to the multitude of life and culture that thronged all around them.

“This!” The Deltan threw a casual arm out to indicate the expanse of life and community that spanned clear around the equator of the great ocean – world and laughed in amused exasperation.

“This place that you sacrificed so much to save!” Dr Voe smiled earnestly. “An entire civilization miraculously resurrected from the grave like Lazarus of Bethany in open defiance of irresistible death!”

Six of Eleven frowned her one human eye at the physician and wondered in he maybe had had one of those tiny but intriguingly powerful drinks that the Garsedi seemed to favour with their morning repast, too many and sighed – preferring the distraction of her work to the inane chicanery of the simulation.

“Whilst the technical achievement of is undeniably respectable from an informational – processing & engineering perspective, the Garsedi Index is not entirely like our own holo – matrix recreations to any meaningful degree.”

The former Borg – drone dismissed the Doctor’s florid and fanciful interpretation. Her mind was indeed focused on a diagnostic subroutine that she was running remotely on the calibrations to the Warp – coil phase limiters that had been installed in the new port-side nacelle.

You really had to double check everything these stations technicians did, in her considered opinion. To be human was to err, after all.

Dr Voe pushed off the railings and they resumed their passage along the walkway, gently weaving through the flow of people in bright and strange garb. As they made their way, the Deltan had a knowing smile on his face that Six had come to deplore, as it usually signaled that he was preparing some moral diatribe that she must listen to.

“You can’t be serious Vanya?” Denah toyed as they walked. The Doctor persisted in calling Six by the name she had born before her assimilation into the Collective. Whilst she appreciated that he did so in an attempt to assist her with re-assimilation to the human race, Six felt uncomfortable with connecting (or reconnecting) to that former life. Whilst she accepted that she had once been Ensign Vanya Anouska Petrovna 50 years ago, today she felt more comfortable with being Lieutenant (Jg) Six of Eleven – Former Tertiary Monitor of Unimatrix 8.

Dr Voe pointed to a gathering of people on a wide balcony that slightly over hung the walkway they were following. The sounds of merriment and music drifted down from the assembly as they celebrated some religious festival, name – day celebration, civil – union or one of the myriad of social conventions that typified the Garsedi people.

“Holodeck projections are just that! Projections of coherent light, run by a sophisticated computer – algorithm to be able to appear sentient and thus react and interact with their humanoid partners!” The physician argued pleasantly as they walked. He pointed to another small huddle of city – dwellers who were huddled around a tiny, steaming entrepreneurial street vendor who had set up shop in a cramped viewing alcove just off the main thoroughfare and was selling (admittedly delicious smelling) bowls of hot noodle broth to the morning foot-traffic.

“These are people! Real, sentient, conscious people, Vanya!” Denah laughed as he politely refused a proffered bowl. “Yes that sentience is stored in the individual memory – engram that houses the consciousness of someone who perished in the War, but they are individuals. Conscious individuals with lives and families, hopes and dreams, petty jealousies and love, and you were an instrumental part of bringing them back to civilization so they can share all that they are, all that they know – with a wider Galaxy!”

Six frowned (also having to wave away a reasonably-priced bowl from the persistent, jabbering vendor) and allowed neutrally.

“The Captain made the correct decision. As much as it would have been disastrous to permit the Free States to capitalize on the engrams of the Northern Compact’s Military leadership, it would have been wasteful to let the Civilian – Repository languish on the Hellworld to be lost and destroyed.”

Dr Voe turned and took the first step that would lead them down off the walkway, to descend down to yet another concourse level, where they had arranged to meet others for a breakfast engagement.

“Why would it matter, if they are just recordings?” The Deltan challenged as he made his way down the steps, leaving the flow of commuters behind.

Six frowned.

She could see what the Doctor was doing here, trying to encourage her skill at reasonable empathy and (confoundingly) she knew that her own social skills were relatively undeveloped enough to ensure that evading his machination would be more annoying than actively engaging in this therapy.

“I didn’t disallow their sentience, Doctor.” Six rolled her eye as she followed Denah down the winding open – air staircase. A balloon, perhaps belonging to a child, floated rebelliously from the party above and began its slow, wafting progress into the clear sky. A fellow traveler on an uncertain journey.

“I was merely alluding to the fact that the actual people that they once more died more than ten thousand years ago, so they are recordings in all but the most esoteric of interpretations.” The Borg said pointedly to the Doctor.

Denah smirked as he reached the lower level and cast his gaze around.

They had emerged onto a wide and tastefully designed plaza, suspended from the size of one of the colossal Strato scraper structures that grasped at the sky like the bejeweled fingers of giants and were one of the many wonders of the Circle-city. There were many such platforms that merged and emerged from these colossal monuments to Garsedi architecture, like broad – fans of mushrooms merged symbiotically with the bough of a great tree.

He seemed to locate the party he was looking for and raised a hand above his bald head to wave enthusiastically to gain their attention.

“Surely you, of all people, are not trying to say that organic sentience is evolutionary superior to machine intelligence, are you Vanya?” Dr Voe smiled playfully as he apologized to a passing waiter and waited until the man had passed by bearing a tray of plates containing an array of bright-coloured and exotic looking seafood.

Six elected to say nothing, but fixed Dr Voe’s back with a withering stare and for a fleeting moment she wish she did still have the capacity to assimilate others.

They weaved the way through gatherings of morning breakfasters, circumnavigating tables where spice, steamed. Broiled or preserved seafood dishes of a variety and array bordering of bewildering, seemed the predominant fare and approached one such table set aside by the balconies – edge.

Ensign Orvid Phorrel, clad in relaxed & voluminous civilian attire sporting a particularly garish design, rose from the table and smiled broadly. The fair – skinned Denobulan science officer had completed his ensemble with a broad sun hat that covered his auburn hair and looked like it might attract its own local weather – system.

“Doctor! Lieutenant! I’m so glad you chose to join us!” Orvid effused and graciously drew out one chair, then another, so that the newcomers could be seated.

Once they were settled comfortably (or in Six’s case, as comfortably as she ever was in social gatherings more than one), the USS Kirk’s avuncular CSO introduced the others at the table, in turn.

“Researcher V’Ren, you already know. The Researcher has quite recovered from his ordeal on Hecate#7b and has proved irreplaceable in the efforts to establish the Garsedi – Index and promote its importance as a sociological resource and place of historical learning amongst his people and others.”

Ensign Phorrel enthused as he re-took his seat and indicated to one of the few Romulan Republic survivors of the RRN – Selquar that the crew of the Kirk had been able to rescue from the surface of the Hellworld.

The sallow faced Historical Anthropologist inclined his head and smiled thinly as he greeted the newcomers.

“Doctor Voe, I am indebted to you for my life. A gift that I can never hope to repay. Lieutenant Petronova, to you we are all indebted for electing to preserve peace over war and helping to save the Repository. Every person you see around you now, owes their continued existence to the bravery and self – sacrifice of yourself and the crew of the USS Kirk.” V’Ren nodded gratefully.

“I don’t seem to remember your colleague being so grateful when he shot me in the back.” Six challenged and Orvid almost choked on the tea he had begun to sip and the Doctor had to thump him on the back.

Undeterred by this truth, V’Ren’s face creased in a pained expression and he apologized.

“Please do not just all of the Republic by the actions of one, Lieutenant.” The Republic scientist sounded genuinely regretful.

“Professor Venrax was a brilliant man, but like many of our race, he was deeply affected by the Fall of Romulus. Whilst I can’t speak for his state of mind and in no way condone the actions he took, it is perhaps understandable that a Theoretical Scientist of his stripe would be overly tempted beyond reason and resolve by the prospect of a technology that might safeguard our people from the Free States.”

Six of Eleven resolved to look singularly unimpressed.

By way of an olive branch, Researcher V’Ren took it upon himself to pour for Six of Eleven a cup of Kailin – tea, which he set in front of her in a delicate porcelain drinking bowl and added diplomatically.

“There are many of our people who genuinely believe that the path back to redemption comes through the path to peace and that that is a road that is best trod in the company of people that you call friend or hope to as the journey unfolds.”

The last person at the table, an elderly Garsedi with a warm age – lined face and twinkling violet eyes, raised his own bowl of the steaming blue liquid smelled pleasantly of jasmine and the ozone tang of fresh sea air, and agreed gently.

“A sentiment most eruditely framed and unarguably well  – put, Researcher.”

Both Six of Eleven and Dr Denah Voe turned their attention to this native of the Circle – city with interest, as Ensign Phorrel recovered himself and resumed his de-facto duties as host.

“And with considerable pleasure, may I present one of the most esteemed academic and pre-eminent sociological voices of his time, the eminent Dr Pólen Ichirou!”  The Denobulan introduced the Garsedi memory – engram with considerable flourish and flair.

The old man laughed lightly and waved a lilac liver – spotted hand, crenellated with old – age, at Orvid.

“Your young colleague embellishes with all of the refreshing candor of youth, I’m afraid.” Pólen allowed and dabbed gently at his lips with a napkin. Something about the man’s manner put Six more at ease and she nodded to both the engram and the Romulan and took up the cup and took a tentative sip.

“Nonsense!” Ensign Phorrel laughed conspiratorially and wagged a finger as he took up a small plate of what looked like salted – fish and passed it to Dr Voe, who accepted and deposited a number of the small fillets on his plate.

“It’s through Dr Ichirou and others like him that were stored in the Repository, that we have been able to infer a common frame of reference between the ancient Garsedi and the modern universe, in terms of language, social context and philosophical juxtaposition.” Orvid explained warmly as he took up his own eating implements.

“The scientific value in being able to interact with an artifact with the potential to be able to directly access and interact with an entire culture in digital format, represents a novel First Contact paradigm which is almost inconceivable in scope and president in modern history.”

Pólen laughed and made a show of looking all around at the Circle-city, with its abundance of life and the great sweeping line that transcribed between heaven and earth that was the Orbital Elevator and he explained.

“Whilst our people, or rather those that survived to express the preference, sought to preserve what we could of our race and culture within the Repository, we had no idea of the passage of time or the eventual fate of our world, although we could guess at the destruction that our ruling powers wrought.” The genial elder confessed with an air of sadness, the regret of ages carrying in his voice.

“Imagine our surprise to find that we slumbered for so long and our collective sorrow that our world as we know it is no more.” Dr Ichirou nodded sagely.

“But with the opening of our world, as it was before the Schism, to people of other races as the Garsedi – Index, we welcome the opportunity to act as an ambassy and historical resource that may help countless billions to recognize amongst their own cultures the hubris and folly that led to our people destroy our planet and help others make better decisions to steer a more reasoned path for their own people and future towards unified peace.”

“Here, here!” V’Ren raised his own bowl and joined his assent to this aspiration.

Denah finished his mouthful of the fish (excellent!) and looked out upon the glittering expanse of ocean that seemed to fill both horizons.

“Will the Index be permanently housed on Framheim Station, Researcher?”

The Romulan Republic scientist considered this question for a moment and took a sip of Kailin – tea before answering.

“Well greater minds than my own are debating the finer legal points towards the Sovereignty of the data as we speak, but for the time being seeing as the Alliance seems the most stable polity within the Shackleton Expanse for the moment and we did secure the Repository at great effort and expense, then I would say housing the Garsedi – Index at this location and making it accessible to any and all who wish to interact with the matrix and study here, is probably the most likely and egalitarian outcome.”

As this prediction sank in, Six put down her own drinking – bowl (largely untouched, to her regenerating tastebuds it tasted slightly metallic) and posed a question to Dr Ichirou.

“Dr Ichirou?”

“Call me Pólen, please.” The engram that had once been the venerable Garsedi academic smiled warmly from across the table.

“I hear a lot of talk here about the work of the Garsedi – Index and agree that, in the right hands, the opportunity for people to learn from the past experience of your people is a good opportunity to curb expansionism and guard against the advent of future conflict, but what of yourselves? What future do you see for your people, beyond the role of museum custodian?” Six of Eleven enquired in earnest, as a cloud passed overhead and momentarily the warmth of the morning sun was gone from the table and its surrounds.

There was a long pause around the table and them the old Garsedi made everyone but Six jump as he slapped the table with the flat of his hand and laughed with genuine amusement.

“Oh, I LIKE this one!” Pólen smiled warmly. “As much as you people learn from us, so we discover all sorts of fascinating and unique things about our new hosts!” Dr Ichirou winked at the former Borg and then turned to explain to a rather shocked looking Orvid Phorrel.

“What this insightful young lady is asking, is a question of ‘agency’, if I’m not much mistaken?” The long – dead sociologist looked back to Six enquiringly.

Six of Eleven nodded, “It is.”

Dr Pólen Ichirou nodded and sat back in his chair.

“And it’s a question that not only does you credit as an individual but speaks well of your society in that it raises its members to question its values and not just accept its ideals at face value.” Pólen waved his finger in emphasis.

“It’s a fantastic hypothetical to consider, on any number metaphysical and existential levels.”  Dr Ichirou nodded approvingly to Six (who was still coming to grips at being called a ‘Young Lady’ – she was subjectively over 50 years old !) and expounded.

“In one sense, the Garsedi people, once a sovereign nation with the rights to self – determination, ceased to be and became extinct over ten thousand years ago.” The Academic asserted, his lilac bottom lip pouted outwards as he enunciated Six’s point of conjecture.

“On the other hand, we find ourselves reborn anew, albeit in a different form of being than which we were birthed, products of the same society with the same degree of sentience – essentially indistinguishable from the people we once were.” He developed the theme, whilst those assembled looked on with interest.

Pólen looked directly at Six and summarized.

“If we are just a collection of photons and not flesh, are we still people and do we have the same rights enjoyed by those in the causal and corporeal universe? Should we have rights or are we just a very clever device? A thing?”

“Exactly.” Six of Eleven breathed. Inside the young woman, this question burned like a flame, threatening to devour either the machine or the human aspects of her psyche and she feared giving the question voice as she feared either outcome.

She feared not being Borg as much as she feared reclaiming her lost humanity. The choice to sacrifice one at the expense of the other terrified her utterly.

It was maybe that the engram that looked, sounded and thought like Dr Pólen Ichirou was adept and insightful enough to intuit the underlying conflict that prompted Six of Eleven’s question; or maybe the old man could just really see into her very soul, but when he spoke his words were as benediction to her.

As the morning sun continued to climb high above a city where once death reigned supreme, but now flourished with life and community, Pólen reached over the table and took her artificial prothesis and organic hand in his age – lined own and his twinkling bright eyes regarded her own both Human and Borg ones intently, and the old man smiled.

“Only you can determine the singularity of your personhood, Lieutenant. It is not a commodity that others can claim to define or ever hope to own.”

Six found she suddenly couldn’t speak as the man gave her hands a compassionate squeeze and he winked as he added.

“If you want to be counted as a sentient being, then you have to get your hands dirty!”

FIN