Creations by William Mitchell

similar: no overt sign of resentment that twelve months’ work had just been overturned, but plenty of searching questions on the technical side which she fielded ably while Victor looked on, smiling with appreciation, as if watching his latest asset fulfil her potential.
    Oliver had been silent for almost the whole walkabout, saying little more than hello, even when he was introduced to the control and mechanical engineers he’d be working with. It only was when the five of them finished up at the canteen that he had anything more to say.
    “A machine which builds a copy of itself,” he said as they sat down at one of the tables. He spoke slowly, almost as if the words didn’t belong in the same sentence together. “Is that really what you’ve got us doing here?”
    “Yes, that’s the aim,” Victor said.
    Oliver shook his head as if in disbelief. “What a waste of time.”
    “Oliver, can you take us through your specific objections?” It was clear that Victor wanted to get Oliver’s views out in the open, and was doing his best to keep the discussion civilised, but the contempt emanating from Oliver for everything he’d heard wasunmistakable.
    “Okay, point number one: making them copy themselves. I’ve already made my position clear on this, so there’s little more I can say. Point number two: controlling them. You’re describing these things as behaving autonomously, yet you don’t have the faintest idea how you’re going to keep them where you want them. What’s to stop them just wandering off when you’re not looking?”
    “We know exactly how we’re going to do it,” Ross said. “We haven’t got to that part of the design yet, but that’s actually the easy bit.”
    “So what are you planning?” Max said.
    “A chain of short-range acoustic transmitters, all around the operating zone. We’ll need a few thousand of them but they’re easy to mass produce. We could start making them today if we wanted. We just build our machines so that whenever they pick up the signals they turn away from the barrier. It’s that easy.”
    Max hesitated, running what Ross had just said through his mind.
    “Max? What do you think about that?” Victor said. Max’s thoughts must have been showing on his face. Either that or Victor had read his mind. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can see the reasons for making them mobile, but the containment issue worries me.” He was having to be careful with his words, aware he was echoing what Oliver had said, but not wanting to seem like his ally. “We need to be absolutely sure we can keep them where we want them.”
    “We will be Max,” Victor said, “I can assure you.” He seemed eager to move on to a different subject. “So then, we know what these machines will look like, pretty much, and we’re starting to understand how they’ll work. The only other question is what we’re going to call them. I’m getting tired of all these ‘SRS’ designators we’ve used until now. Any fresh ideas?”
    “Factory ships?” Ross suggested. “Sail barges?”
    “Prospectors,” Safi said firmly. It was obviously an idea she’d brought with her.
    Victor repeated the word to himself a couple of times. “Yes, I like that. The old word for gold miners. Prospectors it is.”
    Oliver, however, just shook his head. “Can you people hear yourselves?” he said, looking round and smiling as if he was the only one who could see the joke. “Making up fancy names before you even know if you can do this.” He stood up from the table. “Look, if you want to get gold out of the sea, I’ll help you. But the sooner you realise this approach won’t work, the better it will be for all of us.” Then he left.
    “What was that all about?” Ross said once Oliver was gone.
    “I don’t think he understands where we’re coming from on this,” Safi said. “He’s convinced himself it’s impossible and nothing’s gonna shake him.”
    “So why come here?” Ross said.