Freedom TM

waste time feeling sorry for themselves.”
    Sebeck sighed. “What do you want from me, Riley? I’m here, aren’t I?”
    “Are you? Just ask yourself what drives people to join the Daemon’s network. Do you really think all these people are evil? They just want their lives to make sense. This network is helping them achieve that. The Daemon has no ideology. It’s simply what we make of it. It
will
maintain order, but what type of order is up to us. You have a chance to help create something good for future generations. If you’re looking for some sort of redemption, now is your chance. This quest of yours might do some good. So I suggest you pay attention and learn what I’m going to teach you. Because the sooner you do, the sooner you can stop hating dead people and rejoin the world of the living.”
    Sebeck stared at the table like a child who’d been scolded.
    Riley moved to the front of the room. “May I begin?”
    Sebeck nodded.
    “The shamanic interface is the mechanism for interacting with the darknet. It’s called the
shamanic
interface because it was designed to be comprehensible to all people on earth, regardless of technological level or cultural background.” She made a series of precise flourishes with her hands, leaving behind glowing lines in D-Space that formed an intricate pattern. As she finished, an unearthly, angelic voice sounded in the room, like a good spirit.
    Sebeck looked around him for the origin of the disembodied voice.
    Riley lowered her hands. “It was a hypersonic sound, Sergeant. Linked to a macro that I created based on somatic gestures. But my point is that it looks like magic. Even the most remote tribes in Papua New Guinea understand the concept of magic—and that certain rituals must be observed to invoke it. They believe in a spirit world where ancestors and supernatural beings watch over them. The shamanic interface simply connects high technology to that belief system, granting ‘powers’ and equipment as a reward for useful, organized activity.”
    Sebeck leaned back in his chair. “Useful to whom?”
    “Humanity, Sergeant. This is big-picture stuff. Repositories of human knowledge and technology are being designed and built by various curator factions around the world. The spec is simply that these repositories be durable, inspire awe, and be equipped with automated systems that can teach people useful knowledge to empower the more rational among the population so that they can achieve leadership positions. That way, should human civilization be lost in a region, this system could put locals back on a path to regain knowledge in a generation or two. It could also be useful in resisting a downward spiral to begin with.”
    Sebeck looked at the solid walls around them. He looked back at Riley quizzically.
    “Correct. Two-Rivers Hall will be a repository when it’s finished. That may take many decades.”
    “But doesn’t this just spread mysticism? Lies, essentially?”
    “You mean fairy tales? Yes, initially. But then, a lot of parents tell young children that there’s a Santa Claus. It’s easier than trying to explain the cultural significance of midwinter celebrations to a three-year-old. If false magic or a white lie about the god-monster in the mountain will get people to stop killing one another and learn, then the truth can wait. When the time is right, it can be replaced with a reverence for the scientific method.”
    “And
this
is why Sobol created the Daemon?”
    She shook her head. “No, this is why they call it the shamanic interface. Because it resembles sorcery—and might as well be to lowtech people. But unlike sorcery, it exists and conveys real power.”
    Riley raised her hands in front of her. “Now let’s teach you how to use it.”
    ______________
    Two days later Sebeck stood leaning against a railing on the edge of a terrace set atop Two-Rivers Hall—nine hundred feet abovethe desert floor. The view from atop the great monolith of stone was impressive, with mesas extending in a ragged line toward the horizon.
    The master plan for the construction on the valley floor was more apparent from up here, although Sebeck now knew how to interrogate the objects themselves in D-Space. He could see call-outs for faction members, and knew also how to zoom in on them or adjust the layers of D-Space in his field of view. Or send messages. But none of that interested him just now.
    He laid his chin on the aluminum railing and pondered the