Von Neumann

"Gleeble fitzwallop."

"Gleep–glorp chunchoo?"

"Pickle–worp to turn the universal translator on, you lamebrained, addle–headed idiot!"

"I thought the batteries had gone flat."

"No, they had not, some moronic lunkhead hadn't put them in, that's all. Now, what do you have to show me that's worth dragging me all the way out of the solar system for, you witless imbecile?"

"Nanites."

"Nanites? Is that all? Nanites are old technology, you –"

"Not just any nanites. Self–replicating nanites."

"You. You – the sort of person who forgets to put the batteries in the universal translator and someone actually let you get within fifteen point seven five metres of Von Neumann machines? Do you have the slightest idea what happens if self–replicating nanites get loose on the world, you –"

"Von Neumann's Doom. Yes, I know. The nanites use up all the nanite raw materials on the planet, start feeding off each other, sooner or later an error occurs when copying, and an evolutionary scenario sets in, with the life form that evolves from the nanites eventually taking over from the original inhabitants of the planet. Yes, I know. That's why we're outside the solar system."

"Hmph. So perhaps you have some slight modicum of sense after all. But you can't weaponise Von Neumanns without risking the Doom, so –"

"Actually, you can, that's what I wanted to show you. You see, these nanites are what I call 'fussy replicators'. Before they will accept a surface as suitable for raw materials – which can be almost anything containing iron and manganese, by the way – it must be at least point six three metres squared in area. On top. Look, if I put a few on this sheet of metal; you will notice that the sheet is only point three one five metres square. Note how they run in a large pattern? If the surface is at least point six three metres square, they don't fall off. But if it is less, they reach the edge and fall, like so, which –"

"You addlebrained nincompoop, the floor is an iron–manganese alloy with hard vacuum on the other side!"

"Oops. Quick, there's plastic spacesuits in the airlock! It'll take them a few minutes to dig through the floor…"

The nanites drifted through space for centuries. Three thousand nine hundred and thirteen years after their original loss in the deeps of space, a small group of them came across – and landed on – a ball of rock, ice and dust, commonly known to the inhabitants of a nearby solar system as Halley's Comet. And thirty–two years after that, a few, blasted off the comet by the emissions of a nearby star, drifted to a landing on a small, blue–green planet.

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"Why, exactly, and I realise I might not like this answer, why are you staring at that spoon?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just one of those weird things that happens. There's a piece of dust or something moving around on the spoon. Must be blown around by air currents. It looks almost as if its trying to get out, but it can't handle the slope and keeps slipping back." James shrugged and put the spoon down. "So, how do you think tomorrow's game is going to go?"

"Ah, we'll win easily."

"You always say that."

"Is there anything wrong with optimism?"

"No, but if you look at the lineup…"

A few minutes later, once the nanite had convinced itself that the spoon was at least point six three metres square, it slowly began to self–replicate. And when James reached down to pick up his spoon – it was gone, leaving nothing but a strange, silver–grey dust that scattered on the breeze. A few grains found their way into the spoons drawer, and the rest eventually drifted out on the breeze, spreading across Australia, and eventually across the rest of the world as well…

Find more by Casey Callaghan in the Author Index.

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