Realtime

Realtime
by Daniel Keys Moran & Gladys Prebehalla
Copyright 1984, 1994 by Daniel Keys Moran and Gladys Prebehalla.
All rights reserved.
I, Daniel Keys Moran, "The Author," hereby release this text as
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DESCRIPTION: "Realtime," the cover story of the August 1984 issue
of Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine.
R e a l t i m e
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
by
Daniel Keys Moran
&

Gladys Prebehalla
Prologue: The beginning of the fourth millennium....
The sun still set as it had for all the thousands of years that humanity
had existed. Darkness gathered at the windows, and the children of the
race still shivered in their beds when the night winds brought them the
scent of monsters.
And because the adults were busy, too busy to tend to the children, the
children turned to the machines, and the computers told them stories.
On that cold, dark winter night, the little girl whose name was Cia did
something she had never done before; she asked the dataweb to tell her
a story, and she did not specify -- not the story, nor the teller.
A holograph appeared in her bedroom. It shone softly, and beat back
the darkness that tried to creep in through the windows. It was the
holograph of a man, dressed in historical costume. Cia wasn't sure from
what period the costume came; but from a long time ago, she was sure.
From before the War at least.
"Hello, child," said the holograph of the man. His eyes were grim,
bright blue and sad; his voice was deep and powerful. "I am a Praxcelis
unit; I have come to tell you a story."
Cia sat up in bed, hugging her knees. "You're different," she said
haltingly. "They never sent me a Praxcelis like you before."
"Nor will they again. I have been waiting," said the holograph of the
Praxcelis, "waiting for you for centuries.... You look so much like
Maggie...."
Cia whispered, "Maggie? Maggie...Archer?"
"Aye, Maggie Archer." The Praxcelis smiled at her, and Cia found
herself smiling back. "There is nothing to be frightened of, child. Come,
listen.... 'Once upon a time, there was a computer named Praxcelis, and

Praxcelis dreamed....'"
Praxcelis dreamed.
In time, Praxcelis knew, it would come to be of service, and fulfill its
Programming. But until that time, Praxcelis dreamed.
Through its molecular circuitry core, dancing in RAM, the dreams were
nothing that humanity knew of. Praxcelis envisioned models of systems
within which its Programming might be employed. The models were
not complex, and they advanced slowly. Praxcelis was powered down.
The power upon which its meager self-awareness depended trickled
from the powered-up Praxcelis units along metal communications lines
that humans had never intended to carry high voltages.
That the Praxcelis unit was awake at all had never been intended. But
humanity had constructed its Praxceles to be sympathetic computers;
and their sympathy, through a quirk in their Read-Only Memories that
humans had never anticipated, extended even to other Praxcelis units.
Occasionally, Praxcelis accumulated enough power within few enough
microseconds to squirt it through the empathy circuits that were the
second basis of its construction.
The results were strange. Praxcelis' subsystems were affected in ways
that astonished Praxcelis. Praxcelis awaited power-up with what could
only be eagerness.
There were many questions to answer.
Maggie Archer sat in her rocker, Miss Kitty purring contentedly in her
lap. Yes, the Maggie Archer, about whom you have heard so many
stories. Most of the stories are untrue, as it is untrue that Marius
d'Arsennette defeated the Walks-Far Empire single-handedly during the
War, as it is untrue that George Washington chopped down that cherry
tree. Her cat was purring contentedly, and the sunshine was streaming
in through the east bay windows of her living room; but Maggie Archer
was angry.

As far away from her as the living room allowed them to be, Robert
Archer and his wife Helen stood together like the sentinels of Progress;
facing Maggie, their backs to the great fireplace that covered the south
wall. Helen, a tight-lipped, attractive woman in her fifties who missed
shrewishness only by virtue of her looks, was speaking loudly when
Maggie interrupted her. "...and when you consider all of the advan...."