The Long War

‘The phrase “does not compute” was used in an ironic sense to imply bewildered exasperation,’ said Lobsang patiently. ‘It was not used unthinkingly as an error message in response to insufficient or contradictory information.’

‘Lobsang?’

‘Yes?’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘You persist in thinking of me as a computer. I am trying to dispel that illusion. Why are you shaking your head?’

‘Sorry. It’s just, well, you’re trying too hard, I think.’

‘You may call me “Lobby”. Perhaps pet names will break the ice, do you suppose?’

‘Lobby . . .’

(‘Joshua, he kept pausing, waiting for me to carry on talking. Have you ever spent time with a foreigner who wants to practise his English on you? Lobsang was like that, in those first few days, anxiously trying out his humanity on me . . .’)

‘Look,’ Agnes said, ‘you’re going about it all wrong

. You’re not a human. You can’t be a human. You’re a very intelligent machine. You’re more than human. Can’t you live with that? Being human isn’t about the brain, it’s all tied up with messy things like – well, organs and juices and instincts.’

‘You are describing your body, not yourself. In fact your former body.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Externally you were an animal, but that was not your self. Externally I am a machine, but you should not judge by appearances.’

‘OK, but—’

‘We could try the Turin test,’ said Lobsang.

‘Oh, machines have been able to pass the Turing test for years.’

‘No, the Turin test. We both pray for an hour, and see if God can tell the difference.’

And she had to laugh.

‘That was it? He made you laugh?’

‘Well, it was the first time he actually seemed authentically human. And he did keep on. It was like being licked to death by puppies. He wore me down in the end.’

Joshua nodded. ‘You know, if this works out even ten per cent, he’s going to be lucky to have you.’

She snorted. ‘You’d better ask him that. I’m learning to crack the whip . . . Joshua, I know you’ve had your differences with him.’

‘You can say that again. When I called him in to help you it was about the only time I’ve spoken to him since the Madison nuke.’

‘I think he misses you, you know. He spans the world, but he has few friends. If any.’

‘Which is why he has to manufacture them, right?’

‘That’s rather harsh, Joshua. On both of us.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry. Look, Agnes, as far as I’m concerned, however you got here, it’s just good to have you back.’

Now she looked oddly concerned. She took both his hands in hers, as she used to when he was small and there was something difficult she needed to tell him. ‘But you and I know the real question, Joshua.’

‘What question?’

‘I look like Agnes. I think like her. I can carry on her work. I feel like I’m her. But can I be her? I’m a nun, Joshua. Or Agnes was. And enough of a nun to know that there’s no place in Catholic theology for Tibetan-style reincarnation.’

‘Then what?’

She looked away, which was not characteristic of her. ‘My death, Joshua . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘I . . .. experienced it. What we call the Personal Judgement, or something like it. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. I encountered God. Or so it feels. So I believe.’ She raised her hands again and turned them over, inspecting them. ‘And now here I am in this miraculous new form. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.’ She twinkled a smile at him. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for chapter and verse. Maybe I’m some sort of electronic ghost – not Agnes at all, or at best a blasphemous mockery of her. Or maybe, instead, I’m here to fulfil the will of God, in a new way – in a world transformed by technology, to fulfil that will in a way that was never possible before. I feel I’m ready to accept the latter interpretation for now.’

He stirred the last of his coffee. ‘What does Lobsang want

, do you think? What’s he trying to become? The guardian of the whole human race, maybe?’

She thought about that. ‘I rather believe that he might be more like a gardener. Which sounds nice and bucolic and harmless, right up to the time you remember that a gardener must sometimes prune . . .’

He stood. ‘I have to go back. My family have had a lot of problems since we got back here.’

‘I heard.’

‘About the nature of your new existence – well, I did spend a lot of time with Lobsang. I’m no theologian. My advice is, just get on with it. Do the good that’s in front of you. That’s what you always said.’

‘That’s true. Actually at some point I’m hoping for a bit of theological guidance from those fellas in fancy dress from the Vatican.’

‘I don’t care about the Vatican. As far as I’m concerned you’re my Agnes.’

‘Thank you, Joshua.’ She stood and hugged him. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

‘Never.’

28

SALLY RETURNED TO Monica Jansson’s home, arriving without any warning, without any explanation of where she’d been.