*Chapter Three: A-bide*
"You didn't have to humiliate her."
"She was willing to let me die."
"You could have handled that more gracefully."
"She was /willing/ to let me /die/."
"Still-"
"Joe - if I die, I'm /not/ coming back. ... Most likely. There's just one of me running around. Citizens of the Nine Nations may consider getting killed to be only a little worse than getting punched in the face. When my life's at risk, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep it."
"She was just-"
"If you really want to help, you can ask the spirits if I can collect my replacement overseer at the university, or if I need to wait here for her. Or him. Or - whatever. If you're not going to help, I could really use some uninterrupted time to work on this optical comm system."
"Is that really more important than dealing with a Faith Keeper who's mad at you?"
"If she tries pushing the issue, I have a taser cane, among other ways to deal with her. If I miss a flaw in the comm protocols because I keep getting /distracted/, there isn't a large open-source community to point the flaw out to me - and if I get this wrong, then the whole thing is going to be hacked by whatever deleted most of the Berserker, and any of our A.I. friends connected to the system will be killed, and any other devices connected to it will become dangerous - which might include the Bun-bots and Munchkin. So /yes/, this is important."
"How could mirrors and lights kill Clara?"
"Ever hear of a 'side-channel attack'?"
"I'm guessing it has nothing to do with sneaking down an enemy village's ditch."
"Nope. And there's also social engineering of whatever, or whoever, is tilting the mirrors, and rubber-hose cryptanalysis, and a few other things. If I remember everything I think I do about online security from before I died, I /may/ be able to put together a system that avoids enough of the obvious flaws to be usable as a personal comm system, between, say, me, Clara, and the robo-factory. Maybe Brantford, too, if any of your people want to join in. But even then, I wouldn't trust it for anything I wanted to keep private. I know just enough about cryptography to know that I don't have the mathematical chops to deploy a bug-free encryption algorithm, let alone come up with a new one. So I'm going to have to reluctantly rely on a bit of security through obscurity to cover whatever mistakes I'm going to end up making."
"I may not understand much of what you just said. I /do/ understand that White Snake is influential. The spirits might actually listen to her and do something... more extreme."
"Munchkin is on internal, recycled air. If they want me to leave, they just have to give the word. I'll be unhappy to be separated from Clara and the university if that happens - but if I happen to finish getting this comm system worked out before then, then I can put it into place on my way out and still be able to stay in touch with her."
"Can't you just... talk to her? If she did something wrong, I'm sure she'll apologize if you ask nicely enough."
"Joe - politeness and apologies need a certain foundation to work. In my culture, that foundation includes taking reasonable precautions to avoid /killing/ the other person through negligence. From a purely utilitarian standpoint, any benefit that might arise from interacting with her is far overshadowed by the potential negatives, which she has shown no indication of being willing to change. If she wants to apologize, there's nothing stopping her from doing it right now."
"There's her pride. If you go to her, instead of making her come to you, she'd probably be much more willing to do something she thinks is shameful."
"She should be ashamed. I don't know why you're pushing for this so hard-"
"She's a /Faith Keeper/."
"- and I don't care if she's a Pope right now. You're behaving absolutely nothing like Joe One, for whose sake I was willing to treat you as being close to."
"He still hasn't come back from his trip."
"Then I should probably finish what I'm doing here, so I can go check where we agreed he could leave a message for me to see if anything's there from him - and if not, to go looking for him. /He/ deserves that much from me. /You/ are arguing with me that I need to be polite to someone who knowingly, unnecessarily put my life at risk. Am I going to have to go to the rear trailer to get enough peace and quiet to get this done?"
Joe Three stared at me, ears flattened, for a long moment, then turned around and exited Munchkin. I sighed, and turned back to the screen, trying to adapt what I remembered of UUCP's bang paths to be used with the variant of Morse code used for the Toledo Free Press's alphabet. I grumbled to myself, unhappy that it would take at least half an hour to get back into a decent flow state - half an hour in which I'd just be refamiliarizing myself with the problems, loading up all the various items into my memory instead of really /thinking/ about them.
Then again - I realized that I might be able to spend half an hour doing something else, which could provide significant future time savings.
"Boomer? Where'd I put my thinking cap?"
--
"Bunny!"
"Hm?"
"Take off the hat."
"Busy."
Joe stepped right between me and my workspace. "Take off the hat."
"Is it important?"
"It's important to /me/. Take off the hat."
"Fine, fine, let me just finish up-"
"Take off the hat /now/."
I rolled my eyes to myself a little and flicked the power switch. "There. I'm perfectly-" I paused a moment. "-capable of getting right back to you. 'Scuze me." I hurried to the washroom.
A few moments later, I rejoined Joe. "What's up?"
"You've been sitting there for six hours."
"And?"
"You've been /sitting/ there for /six/ hours."
I shrugged. "I set the timer for eight, at most. And Boomer had instructions if the timer didn't work. And the Bun-bots. And Munchkin."
"What if something had gone wrong? Aren't you always talking about how precious your brain is? You should have told us what you were doing before you touched that thing!"
"For some reason, I've become much less concerned about letting somebody veto my ideas after the first person appointed to that task was /willing/ to let me /die/."
We stared at each other for a long moment, then I turned away to hit the kitchen for more water.
After a few moments, Joe asked, "What are you doing that's so important you're willing to risk your own brain?"
"The particular thing I was doing was probably less important than improving how well my own brain works. Boomer and I think we've narrowed down the numbers so that I can get into a flow state at will - that's something not even my most treasured programming idols could pull off, no matter how much caffeine and Doritos they had."
"Did it work? Did you flow out anything useful?"
"That's not quite the terminology, but since I understand you, I don't care. I think I accomplished a good deal, yes." She waved a hand at the virtual workspace covering the wall, silently asking me to elaborate. "It's simple enough to just set up a line of heliographs run by Bun-bots to relay messages from one end to another. But if things get any more complicated than that - if I want to have a mobile heliograph on Munchkin, if I want to expand the network beyond a simple line, then even just keeping an up-to-date map of how to route messages can get complicated. And if I want to play Brinian "Postman", and set things up so that relay stations can be run by people with pencils instead of robots, then that puts a severe constraint on possible solutions. So I borrowed some ideas about mesh networking I'd read about, a thought from decentralized BitTorrent transfers, a few tidbits Boomer knows about route-testing ant packets... oh, yeah, and I have to layer it all on top of human-interpretable Morse instead of true binary."
"How many more hours do you need to finish that?"
"Oh, /that/ I finished up in the first half hour or so. Munchkin's software suite has a great developer environment, and Boomer is fantastic at turning pseudo-code into actual algorithms. The next while I spent trying to come up with any alternate approaches that might be more secure, and trying to come up with ways to harden the system against attack. Which led me to physical security, to protect the relays from actual physical attack. Which led me to the Munchkin's design suite for the robo-factory. I've now got a design for a relay station with a hundred-foot tower, that can be taken down by one person in half an hour, packed into half of one of Munchkin's containers, and set back up again. With paths for upgrading, depending on the availability at the robo-factory of parts for solar panels, wind turbines, batteries, air conditioners and heaters, complete air and food recycling systems, electric fencing, infrared lights, and so on. Given some estimates about what the factory's got, I'm probably going to need to dig up some selenium if I want to build a dozen or more stations with the whole schmear from scratch."
"And /that/ took up the six hours?"
"No, then I called up Munchkin's geophysical maps, and started picking likely locations to drop off the stations at, when I discovered a map layer that included old survey points, when that meant using theodolites that needed a similar sort of line-of-sight as heliographs would, without even needing as tall of a tower as I've got plans-"
She held up a hand, and I let myself get cut off. "Fine. I get it. You've been doing useful stuff. Stuff you think is useful."
"I'd like to think the two are the same."
"But while you've been doing that, White Snake has been telling the council that you kicked her out for no good reason."
"Did she mention the embolism thing?"
"She said you /claimed/ you were in danger, just as an excuse to kick her out."
"Did she mention that when I claimed I was in danger, she didn't even consider holding Bear Joe back for a second, just to find out whether or not it was true?"
"That didn't come up, no."
"Then your council should just drop her in a pool so your spirits can read her memory, and tell them what really happened."
"That's - not how we do things."
"What did you say before - well, one of you Joes - the spirits want you to be able to solve your own problems?"
"... That's close enough an answer that anything more exact would distract us. The point is, she's convinced the council to say that either you let her back in to watch you, or... well, or else. I think you leaving is the easiest 'else'."
"Can I go speak to the council in my own defense?"
"White Snake pointed out that since you're not a member of any of the Nine Nations, you can only talk with them as an outsider, who they don't have to listen to if they don't want. And she convinced them that they don't want to."
"Hm. Tricky. The council - it's a council of all nine nations, but each nation still has its own council for its own affairs, right?"
"That's right. Are you going to ask to be adopted into a nation?"
"I might not need to. Can you arrange a meeting with whatever senior people of one nation are available?"
--
When Joe left to do that, I looked back at the various virtual windows spread around Munchkin's walls. Now that I wasn't hyper-focused on the tasks at hand, I was looking at things from a different perspective. And one thing that struck me was that while I'd designed in a few flagpoles for the stations, I hadn't come up with a unifying symbol for them all yet.
The Canadian flag was the obvious choice - but I ruled it out, since Parliament, the courts, and all the rest of the apparatus of state was gone. Another possibility was the royal flag, but according to the old protocols, that was supposed to be flown on buildings or vehicles I was personally occupying. Not to mention, it was a horribly over-complicated piece of vexillology, containing symbols from European nations I was unlikely to ever get in contact with, let alone ever visit.
In my view, flags needed to be distinctive from a distance, representative of whatever they were representing, and simple enough for a schoolchild to be able to draw a recognizable version of. The old Canadian flag was nearly ideal in all three; the maple leaf was a bit tricky to get to look right, but even badly-rendered versions were recognizable. European tricolors were also good examples, except that I wasn't a republic founded by people who might have to tear their flag into unrecognizable pieces of cloth if their basement meetings were ever stormed. I called up images of a variety of Canadian symbols, official and otherwise, and idly started playing with them.
After a few moments, I took the Canadian coat of arms, and started getting rid of pieces of it. In short order, all I was left with was the triple-stalked maple leaves from the bottom, and the crown from the top. Something niggled at me about that. I replaced the crown with a simpler version, the same red as the leaves; that seemed closer to whatever was on the tip of my brain. After a few tweaks that didn't help, I took a Canadian flag, and replaced the single leaf with the crown and leaves.
"Boomer - I could swear I've seen this before, except I don't recognize it. Does it match anything in your databases?"
"Yes. It is a close match to one of the submitted designs considered for Canada's flag in the nineteen sixties, and was shown as such on a 'Heritage minute' interstitial video in the nineteen nineties-"
"/That's/ it. Was it ever actually used for anything?"
"To my knowledge, it has no official status anywhere."
"Well, it does now. Or some version, at least. Have you got the short in memory, or that flag?"
--
"Thank you for allowing me to take up some of your valuable time."
"No trouble," said the chief, sitting across from me. He continued, "You're the most interesting gossip today. And I'm curious what you wanted to talk about."
"I am curious, too. When I heard the names of the nine nations, I recognized the first six from the Iroquois League of the time I am most familiar with, and the next two as near neighbours of theirs. But the Quebecois didn't fit that pattern."
He nodded gravely. "After the War of the Two Serpents, much was lost, including most government. The Haudenosaunee were one of the only groups to maintain any sort of organization, even if it involved reviving many long disused customs. When living along the St. Lawrence River became untenable, what remained of the provincial government gathered up as many of the survivors as they could, and came upstream. We joined as the Ninth Nation."
I felt my ears perk up happily. "Then your current nation is a continuation of the province?"
"I suppose you could look at it that way."
"I choose to look at it that way."
"You are from la belle province?"
"I've only visited, never resided. However, there are certain details of the old Canadian federal and provincial system which I would like to take advantage of. One is that the position of 'Queen in right of Canada' isn't the only job of Canada's monarch - she is also 'Queen in right of Ontario', and of each and every other province, when dealing with matters related to provincial jurisdiction."
"I begin to see why we are here. What are you planning on offering in return for my acknowledgement?"
"In simple terms: Nothing."
"An interesting offer."
"I offer you nothing that I wouldn't offer anyway, whether you 'acknowledge' me or not. If someone else was Queen Regnant, I would be, at best, Heir Presumptive, until somebody with a better genealogy could be found. With no other Queen, and no other genealogies, I suppose that would make me Queen Presumptive, as a simple matter of fact. Acknowledgement doesn't enter into it."
"I think it rather does."
"Well, maybe it does. If you don't want my help with anything, then I'll do my best to stay out of your way, with or without acknowledgement. If there is something I can do, then let me know, and I'll do my best to help, with or without acknowledgement."
"I will keep that in mind. Is there anything else to discuss?"
"There is one thing. A certain individual has argued that I have no right to speak before the council, as I am not a member of any of the nine nations. However, the Queen of Canada is Canadian - and the same principle naturally applies to the Queen of Quebec. Thus, through a series of technicalities, it appears that je suis Québécois."
"You mean 'je suis québécoise'," he corrected me, pronouncing the final 's' sound I'd left out. "If you mean to take this seriously, you need to speak our language."
"I always knew my cereal box French would fail me one day..."
--
We were, once more, in the council's longhouse, facing that portion of the Grand Council who seemed to have been assigned to deal with my particular case. After the councillors had been going back and forth in one Iroquoian tongue or another for ten minutes, with no sign of involving me personally or even using a language I could understand, I whispered to Clerk-Bun to pass me a pencil and notebook.
Joe Three whispered, "What are you writing?"
Since whispering seemed permissible, I returned, "Ideas on how to get money to fund an inter-city heliograph network."
"What do you need money for?"
"I've already had two miracles, or close enough to them - getting woken up after dying, and finding that robo-factory in good working order. Expecting it to /stay/ in working order would be a third miracle, and I'm not going to rely on that happening."
Joe peered at the page I was open to. "Why write 'lottery' but cross it out?"
"I'm not comfortable taking advantage of people's irrational urges when gambling is involved, and there are other options."
"What's a 'Crown Corporation'?"
"A business owned by the government, technically in the name of the crown, but run separately from the government. Since the fall of civilization, I could argue that all businesses that required licensing by the government have technically reverted to the state, so I can probably resurrect CBC or Bell Canada, or even just the Post Office, as a commercial framework. I've always been fond of the HBC, but it isn't quite suited-"
Joe elbowed me, and I quieted down as I noticed all the councillors staring at us. Most were as stone-faced as usual, though White Snake could have been smirking, and the Quebecois chief had a more amused smile. The latter spoke, "In deference to the fact that the spirits cannot simply gift the subject of this meeting with knowledge of a language, I will speak in the tongue she understand best. After consulting with other members of my nation, we have decided to recognize that she qualifies at least as being a member of the Royal Family."
One of the others asked, "You are accepting her as your Queen?"
He shook his head. "We are still discussing that point. However, she is at least a princess, which makes her Quebecois, by our old laws and traditions, which we were guaranteed to be allowed to continue when we joined the Iroquois League."
White Snake asked, "If she's part of your Nation, then what clan is she?"
"You know very well that she has not had time to learn the kinship system the rest of our Nation transitioned to, nor can the spirits assign her one as they do to the immigrants they absorb into Nations. Right now, she has no clan, or is her own clan."
One of the councilors snorted and said a word. The Quebecois man responded, "You say that as an insult and a joke - but a new 'Rabbit Clan' could work. However, her clan is not relevant today. I say she is of our nation. None of you can say she isn't. She can speak on her own behalf. Bunny, please step forward."
I stood, absently brushed my skirt smooth, and stepped closer to the ceremonial hearth. "Sirs. Ma'am." My sponsor nodded, so I continued. "I don't need to take up much of your time. I have no real objection to your previous decision, that you need to assign someone to watch over me to make sure I avoid making foolish and dangerous decisions. My objection is with the particular person who was assigned: White Snake. I could go into the details of my reasoning if you wish, but they're less important than my conclusion: I do not trust her. Or I trust her to act in ways that are unacceptable. If you wish to choose a different... advisor, one who is not so eager to see me dead, then I would be willing to accept them. If you insist that I must either accept White Snake or be banished, then I will leave. I consider it safer to be outside the Nine Nations, in the company of giant man-eating spiders and snakes and enormous kaiju, than I would be under her authority. Any counter-arguments which do not change my estimation of her willingness to engage in what I consider to be reckless endangerment are not likely to change my beliefs on this matter."
One of the neutral councillors asked, "Are you accusing her of trying to kill you?"
I shook my head. "No, I do not have enough verifiable, objective evidence to convince a jury. I do have enough to convince myself. I could go over the math of probability and levels of belief, but they pretty much add up to what I just said."
"Is that all you wish to say?"
"Well - I could also note my objections that only a member of one of the Nine Nations can file an appeal with the Grand Council. I'm very uncomfortable with the fact that if I hadn't realized my connection with the Quebecois, then you would have refused to listen to my objections, no matter how much merit was in the objections themselves. But that is probably better for another day's discussion."
"Actually," said the Quebecois chief, "it does bring up certain points I would like to address." He reverted back to Iroquoian, and at his brief wave, I sat back down.
Joe's bunny face looked pinched and unhappy, not a good look on a muzzle like hers. She whispered, "You /had/ to go with the Quebeckers?"
"No, but they were my first pick, and it worked out that I didn't have to try any others. Why?"
"You just gave him an excuse to pick up an old argument. We could be here for hours."
"They're not still separatists, threatening to secede again, are they?"
"No - they're, well... the League started with five Nations, each with a role in the Grand Council. Two of them would discuss an idea, then throw it over the fire to the other two, with the Oneida mediating. When the Tuscarora joined, they didn't become part of that - they're represented by their 'big brothers', the Oneida. When the other Nations joined, they each got a 'big brother', too. The Quebeckers want full equality with the first five Nations on the Grand Council, instead of technically being represented there by the Mohawk."
"... Ah. Want me to send Gofer-Bun to get you something to read?"
"No, I really should listen to this, even if it's not the full Council and it seems boring."
"Your call." I picked my notebook back up, and got back to noodling around with economics.
After a few minutes, I paused, blinked, thought harder for a moment, and barely managed to muffle a snort. I still got Joe's attention. "Idea?", she whispered.
"Kind of. I could argue that all major Canadian businesses, including Canadian subsidiaries of foreign conglomerates, have reverted to the government, which has reverted to the crown. And it occurs to me that back in the Munchkin, I have a fabric fabricator that can assemble outfits as fancy as I want. And I spent some time in a special kind of sleep, waiting to be woken up. And I've got a variety of animal companions, some of whom do tasks for me. And I just got confirmed as royal by an actual government."
I paused, and her forehead wrinkled. "I don't see how any of that connects."
"I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure I'm a Disney Princess."
