Free Permutation City by Greg Egan Page B

upper atmosphere with nanomachines which could monitor the temperature -- and supposedly do something about it."
     
    "Manufacture particles which reflected certain wavelengths of solar radiation -- and then disassemble them, as required."
     
    "In other words, cover the planet with a giant thermostatic blanket."
     
    "What's so terrible about that?"
     
    "You mean, apart from the sheer technocratic hubris? And apart from the fact that releasing any kind of replicator into the environment is -- still, thankfully -- illegal? It wouldn't have worked. There were complications nobody had predicted -- unstable mixing of air layers, wasn't it? -- which would have counteracted most of the effect."
     
    Maria said, "Exactly. But how would anyone have known that, if they hadn't run a proper simulation?"
     
    "Common sense. This whole idea of throwing technology at problems created by technology . . . "
     
    Maria felt her patience desert her. "What would you rather do? Be humble in the presence of nature, and hope you'll be rewarded for it? You think Mother Gaia is going to forgive us, and put everything right -- just as soon as we throw away our wicked computers and promise to stop trying to fix things ourselves?" Should have made that "Nanny Gaia."
     
    Aden scowled. "No -- but the only way to "fix things" is to have less impact on the planet, not more. Instead of thinking up these grandiose schemes to bludgeon everything into shape, we have to back off, leave it alone, give it a chance to heal."
     
    Maria was bemused. "It's too late for that. If that had started a hundred years ago . . . fine. Everything might have turned out differently. But it's not enough any more; too much damage has already been done. Tip-toeing through the debris, hoping all the systems we've fucked up will magically restore themselves -- and tip-toeing twice as carefully every time the population doubles -- just won't work. The whole planetary ecosystem is as much of an artifact, now, as . . . a city's microclimate. Believe me, I wish that wasn't the case, but it is -- and now that we've created an artificial world, intentionally or not, we'd better learn to control it. Because if we stand back and leave it all to chance, it's just going to collapse around us in some random fashion that isn't likely to be any better than our worst well-intentioned mistakes."
     
    Aden was horrified. "An artificial world? You honestly believe that?"
     
    "Yes."
     
    "Only because you spend so much time in Virtual Reality you don't know the difference anymore."
     
    Maria was indignant. "I hardly ever --" Then she stopped herself, realizing that he meant the Autoverse. She'd long ago given up trying to drum the distinction into his head.
     
    Aden said, "I'm sorry. That was a cheap shot." He made a gesture of retraction, a wave of the hand more impatient than apologetic. "Look,forget all this depressing ecoshit. I've got some good news, for a change. We're going to Seoul."
     
    Maria laughed. "Are we? Why?"
     
    "I've been offered a job. University Music Department."
     
    She looked at him sharply. "Thanks for telling me you'd applied."
     
    He shrugged it off lightly. "I didn't want to get your hopes up. Or mine. I only heard this afternoon; I can still hardly believe it. Composer-in-residence, for a year; a couple of hours a week teaching, the rest of the time I can do what I like: writing, performing, producing, whatever. And they throw in free accommodation. For two."
     
    "Just . . . hold it. A few hours' teaching? Then why do you have to go there in person?"
     
    "They want me, physically. It's a prestige thing. Every Mickey Mouse university can plug into the networks and bring in a dozen lecturers from around the world --"
     
    "That's not Mickey Mouse, it's efficient."
     
    "Cheap and efficient. This place doesn't want to be cheap. They want a piece of exotic cultural decoration. Stop laughing. Australia is flavor of the month in Seoul; it only happens once every