Symbiant.
I looked up with a start, eased my wheelchair back, as my monitor alarm sounded. The upper third of my screen flashing red, synchronizing with the main alarm in the control room.
"What's happening John?" Nils, my fellow controller waddled over. Breathless from the exertion. He gazed over my shoulder at the screen.
"Looks like another Shepherding unit has gone offline," I said.
"Mmm. Nothing I can do to help there, I'll go kill the alarm."
I muted the monitor, and opened the map of our sector and located the unit in the upper left quadrant of the circular screen, twenty miles west of its last reported location. It flashed twice more then it was gone. I watched on helpless as the shoal it had been herding broke up. Without a herding unit to keep them in line they form smaller shoals and head off in all directions. It'll take days, maybe weeks to round them up, a good percentage will never be recovered. The main alarm was silenced and Nils returned to his station.
Nils shook his head, "What causes units to go offline like that?"
"Your guess is as good as mine chum. Most likely its processor is fried, like the other defective units we recovered two weeks back."
"It has to be hardware, stands to reason..."
"All I know is it's the seventh unit lost in six months and all below 20 fathoms."
" A unit a month. It can't go on. At this rate, we'll have lost a third of our stock by years end."
"The General Manager thinks this one could push us into the red, and you know what that means."
.-...-.
Three weeks later we were down another unit.
"The Shoal spread all over the North Sea, Irish Sea and North Atlantic . Bastards," Nils thumped his desk. "All our species are of known genotype and can be identified to the shoal of origin."
"Huh! You know fish rustlings rife. There are plenty of hungry bellies in the third world. What would happen if inspectors tried checking the fish on their plates?"
"They'd be committing suicide," said Nils. "Then there's the black zones. Not regulated by the common fisheries policy 2078. Rustlers trawl those waters for wild and unaccompanied shoals."
"Despite the total collapse of wild fish populations in 2023, they still don't give a hoot for species husbandry."
The PA system interrupted their conversation: 'Mr. Sturroch the GM will be holding an emergency meeting in the main hall in 15 minutes. Attendance is not optional.'
.-...-.
"You will all be aware of the setbacks we have encountered over the last year. They have been costly and we are a small company in comparison to some of our competitors. Obviously, we cannot sustain losses of this magnitude indefinitely. Therefore the board of directors have decided that in the best interests of both shareholders and staff we need to take immediate action." He paused and opened a document folder containing a single sheet of paper and started to read aloud. "We have choices to make. The official receiver can be called in to wind up the business, or we can try to sell it as a going concern to one of the larger offshore fisheries. The latter may result in the continuation of our employment. The board has decided to put it to tender, in order to maximize the return of our shareholders' funds. I'll hand you over to Derek Wilberforce who wishes to say a few words about our accomplishments over the last half-century."
"Thank you for stating the position so succinctly Mr Sturroch."
Half-hearted applause.
"As you will all be aware, we were the first company in the field. If we hadn't taken steps to recreate and rebuilt fish stocks there would be no fish left in the sea and the world would be the poorer for it. The cloning techniques we pioneered to restore stocks of cod, haddock, herring, and flatfish were initially illegal in Europe , but fortunately not in international waters. At first, we tried to corral stocks. That was abandoned in favour of herding with small manned submersible craft. By 2085 automated submersibles replaced human fish-herders these proved to be a more cost-effective solution. Then, three years on, the failures began. Attempts were made to bridge the gap by recruiting human fish-herders once more. Just a handful of recruits and returnees signed up. We are not the only company in this situation but our position is dire. There will be negotiations underway over the next month, and we will keep you all informed on the progress achieved. This meeting is over, thank you for attending."
.-...-.
I arrived for my shift in a low state, staff morale, in general, was subzero. We were all waiting for the axe to fall. At any moment a receiver could be appointed to wind up our operation, and that would be that!
.-...-.
"John Whitely?" The man standing by my terminal smiled.
"That's me," I said, a cold shard of fear spreading up my spine.
"Geoff Smythe," he offered his hand, so I took it by reflex. "I'm the new GM. Mr Sturroch has been reassigned. Come into my office John, we need to discuss your future." He headed towards his office and I followed. His name was freshly painted on the door. He collapsed into the ample chair behind his desk. "Nice to meet you, at last, I've heard a lot about you and read your company history. It's impressive! So, I won't keep you in suspense, 'Gulf' has been taken over by 'Continental Shelf Fisheries'. We at CSF are not, as you might think, letting people go." He paused to take out a pen and sheaf of papers from his desk. "On the contrary, we intend to become the largest and most successful fishery in the Northern Hemisphere but, we do have a problem."
"I see." Here it comes.
"Relatively speaking, we are newcomers to the industry. We need experienced men like yourself to train new recruits. It takes a certain kind of mind to be a good herder, as you know. We need your skills and expertise to get our new approach technology online."
"Mmm..."
"Don't say anything yet John, let me tell you about your exciting new future. You will be on the management team pay scale, then when we go live with the 'new approach' you'll be our wet manager, responsible for everything that takes place beneath the waves."
"But, I'm no manager."
"No matter. You'll receive all the training you need. Now, do you have any questions?"
"First thing, how many units will we be allocated, sir?"
"Just call me, Geoff management are on first name terms."
"Okay, Geoff. How many and how soon?" I warmed to his informal style.
"How many do you need?"
"Three would be an ideal working team for this sector." I paused for thought. "Five would enable us to round up the scattered strays before they're snapped up by rustlers. Then the two extras could be used to bring back strays from other sectors. Then when normal operations resume they'll provide backup for our maintenance program."
"You can have four units for this sector, but I believe two will be sufficient in normal circumstances."
"You asked me, and I told you what we need."
"Don't take it the wrong way, you've never worked with units as efficient as these."
"I've not heard of any groundbreaking new developments. If there had been, I would know. It's my job to know," I said.
"So, what do you know about Crystal Minds?"
"CM's? I thought they were a means of reducing prison populations by storing the felons mind in a cube while his body is used by someone who needs it."
He nodded, "Well that's part of it. But, most criminal minds are rehabilitated within three to six months; that's if they're capable of rehabilitation. Yet they are sentenced to serve anything from three years to life."
"Then why are the sentences not set lower?" I asked.
"Because society's perception of justice is half a century out of date."
"So someone gets the use of a body for the period of their sentence?"
"You've got it John, and the re-educated CM's get to be gainfully employed for the balance of their sentence."
"Your using felon CM's to run our units?"
"That's the plan. Do you have any objections?"
I thought for a while. "Do they know what you're doing?"
"They can remain under program control, running scenario's and simulations for the balance of their sentence, or they can volunteer for gainful employment as herders, strato pilots, or Air-Taxi jockeys." He reached for the intercom, "My usual Tina, and Strong black coffee for Mr Whitley."
"You've done your homework."
"Thank you. Actually, there are a thousand potential uses for CM minds, and they get paid the going rate for the job. Credits accrue in their personal accounts. Volunteering provides them with funds and training for a career when they're released. It's preferable to the boredom of perpetual simulation or inactivity."
"Well, if they're volunteers, Geoff."
Geoff's assistant arrived with coffee and sandwiches. "Thanks, Tina."
"I had no idea CM's could be linked to machines or real-time systems. Other than humans of course. That's a whole new concept."
"You know John, this is only the beginning. Our techno's have even linked them to animals like horses, sheep, and dogs. They've been existing in a whole lot of symbiotic relationships. They not only retain their humanity they lead full productive lives as symbionts."
"That's an impressive undertaking."
"I saw the holo-pick on your terminal John. That's a great family you have there?"
I swallowed coffee and gazed out the window. A strato-copter was being unloaded, "That holo was taken eight years ago, before my accident."
"What happened?"
"They left because they couldn't stand my mood swings any longer. I don't blame them, I'm not proud of that period in my life. It was eight years ago. I'm over it now," I felt moisture on my cheeks and brushed it away. It didn't help.
"I meant how did your accident happen."
"I was out in the duo-sub, with a trainee who couldn't cut it. He lacked the required sensitivity and reaction speed required in fast-flowing currents. Not everybody develops the subtlety and delicacy of touch, you know. After months in rehab, I wound up in this damned chair, paralyzed from the waist down." Anger railed up inside me and I hammered the wheels on the chair in frustration.
"John, I never intended opening old wounds..."
"Worst thing was not being able to control a sub and do my job," I looked into his eyes. "In my dreams I'm whole and back in the place where I really belong, swimming free." the tears came anew. "I do hate self-pity."
He looked straight back at me, "I'm sorry, I had no idea."
"No, Galicia
"I can believe it," he said.
I nodded. "Well, I guess that's life." I wiped my eyes on my shirt cuffs and smiled. "So I guess you'll be withdrawing the job offer?"
"Not at all, we need your expertise in the water," he said.
.-...-.
The initial pair of CM's were trained within two weeks. There were three who showed no aptitude who were returned for an alternative assignment. Two months later we'd trained a further seven, and rejected five more. Ninety percent of our stock was back and under our control and nine of our twelve herder units were CM controlled. It seemed our troubles were over. Then two more units disappeared.
.-...-.
"Come on Geoff, it makes a good deal of sense. Use the CM Technology on me! As a CM I could investigate and discover once and for all what is causing these malfunctions. Maybe I could even reclaim the missing units."
"Mmm, Okay let's look into this a little further. Both units went missing near the edge of the Continental shelf. I doubt if a standard unit would be able to follow there. I have an idea. Let me check on something. I'll get back to you with an answer."
"Fair enough." I started rehearsing scenario's and arguments to win him over. In truth, I would give my soul to be back in the water. That's where I feel at home.
Two hours later, Geoff returned. "It's fixed. We have a host unit for you. It'll take a few days to find out if you are compatible, and for your assimilation, but you'll be able to go deep and fast without worrying about pressure or narcosis. Vicci will take you farther and faster than any machine. When would you like to start."
"What about now?" I said.
"I thought you might say that. Let's go down to the tanks so we can make the introductions." When we reached tank No.3 I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"John, this is Vicci. Vicci this is John!" As he spoke, a fully grown blue-nosed dolphin took to the air and emitted a high pitched welcome.
"Hello, Vicci!"
The anaesthetic kicked in about the time the contacts were being fixed to my shaved head. I never felt the skullcap being lowered...
.-...-.
When I regained consciousness, I was in the water, seeing through Vicci's eyes.
"Food!" was the thought in my(our) mind as we sped towards the edge of the tank at incredible speed, sliding to a standstill, inch-perfect, on the slick docking platform. As Vicci was fed fish and squid, I was fed my final instructions and information.
"I don't know if you can hear me, John. We've primed you with as much dolphin language as we currently have. Hopefully, you will be able to add considerably to our vocabulary on your return. Let's hope Vicci is a good teacher. We'll have radio contact at close range but out there in the ocean, you'll be on your own. You still have an opportunity to change your mind before we open the sea gate. Of course, you have no control of her body, you will have to convey your requirements as best you can through your shared thoughts."
'Let's get on with it,' I thought, and Vicci vocalized the message in dolphinese.
"Best of luck! Open the gate!"
'Here we go!' I thought. I felt the immediate surge of power as we accelerated towards the doors, slipping through the narrowest of gaps, into the open sea. We surfaced and jumped high in the air, changing direction immediately on contact with water. The missing CM herding unit had disappeared West-Nor-West of the base. I received a heading of 312 degrees and immediately Vicci took off in that direction.
We found nothing at the site, but I suspected Vicci knew more than I did. I felt she was laughing at me.
She opened up, and I was no longer a passenger. I had control, I was alive again, vital and strong. We shot to the surface and with a deft flick of a muscular tail rose above the waves. For an instant we defied gravity, hanging motionless in the air. Then we fell, breaking back from one element to another and experiencing the euphoria of being at home. We leapt into the air as two minds returning to the sea as one.
We realized we shared everything: all she knew I knew, and to her, I was an open book.
I saw the reality of my situation.
'Hitch-hiker, heh he heh!' her thoughts came loud and clear.
"That's me Vicci," I said marveling at the simplicity of communication. It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes.
We need never return to CSA fisheries. We have no desire for wealth or life in a wheelchair. This is home, I'd been away far too long. Vicci was nobodies fool with my knowledge and insight into human nature and her cooperation we could rule the oceans.
'You clever girl Vicci,' Her pod had collected clams from a wide area, to pay a giant electric ray, to wrap its body around our units and give them a powerful jolt of electricity. That's what fried their processor units.
We called the others, and they came. We were all as one. So many dolphin pods had been waiting for a century. Waiting for 'VicciJohn' to take back control of their world.
There was a meeting of pods, to experience the symbiosis. then the decision was taken:
"We will return and recruit more like John. We will become indispensable to the humans at CSA. We will rule the seas, and get paid with all the food we need. There will be sufficient for all..."
