to Network!” revision 5600109c, intelligence Tier 1.8–2.5, F-type metaphors)
WELCOME TO THE COMMUNITY!
By now you have likely heard the term tier many times in discussions of the Network and its workings. Since an understanding of this concept is vital to all potential Citizen species, a quick primer follows below. As a rule of thumb, just remember that each tier multiplies the previous by twelve. For example, a two is approximately twelve times as intelligent as a one, a three is one hundred forty-four times a one, and so on.
For information on how your species was evaluated, please see the attached packet on [Intelligence Testing]. If you believe you are exceptional for your species, you may request a personal test through your species’ Network liaison.
Tier 1: Baseline. This tier contains pre-culture sentient beings who have developed abstract intra-species communication, tool use, and other markers detailed [here]. Ones enjoy special protection above wildlife, but they are not eligible for Network Citizenship and its accompanying rights and privileges.
Tier 1.8 (“Legal”): At this point, a species becomes eligible for Network Citizenship and all that comes with it. (Interestingly, the most common tier in the galaxy is a 1.79, as this is where most helper intelligences are manufactured.)
Tier 2: YOU ARE HERE. Unless artificially accelerated, most species progress through the twos during their first few thousand years of spaceflight.
Tier 3: At twelve times the intelligence of the previous tier, a three can accomplish by intuition what would take a two many hours of concentrated thought. In fact, a two’s first exposure to a three is often marked by intense fear or a sense of eeriness, as a three can easily make connections that do not occur to a lower mind.
Tier 4: This tier is typically achieved only by large group minds. A four is uncanny to a three, and godlike to a two. Though most lower minds have never conversed with a member of this tier, fours are far from rare. Group minds, in fact, appear to be nearly the rule as species advance.
Tier 5: Most planetary intelligences are fives. Typically such an intellect has members numbering in the billions, all in constant mental communication. The intellectual power of a five would be mind-boggling to a two, should the five condescend to speak with the two in the first place.
Tier 6+: You may be wondering: what is above the fives? The answer is: no one knows (or at least no one who’s saying). Though there have been major evidence-gathering efforts by lower intelligences, all have come up empty. Admittedly, this lack of evidence may be evidence itself. It is safe to say that if higher minds exist, any inquisitive lower minds are seeing exactly what those minds intend them to see.
So there you have it. Now you know enough to say hi!
“This area is closed for maintenance of its surveillance systems,” says the voice of Dock A. “Please return in fourteen minutes.”
Sarya stands with her back against a closed hatch, blinking in the light. It’s been a while since she’s been here, but it’s familiar enough once her eyes adjust. It’s always obvious which parts of Watertower Station are the oldest. They don’t have the smooth curves, sound-absorbing coatings, or—judging by the way her feet stick to the floor here—properly motivated cleaning crews. They are usually more cramped than the newer areas. Dock A, for example, is barely a hundred meters across and not even half that up to the buttressed ceiling. The double hatch that takes up the entire far wall is probably the same size as the ones in all the other docks, but here it looks gigantic.
These older areas are also more cluttered, and not necessarily because they lack crews. Usually the clutter is the crew. This maze of machinery stacked on this side of the dock is made of the oldest, cheapest, and/or lowest-tier drones. This is the absolute bottom layer of Watertower society. They lie dormant, waking just long enough to scan her, emit a message or two, and go to sleep again.
[Hello again, Sarya the Daughter.]
[Would you like something loaded or unloaded?]
[If you are waiting for the next ship to arrive, that won’t be for a while.]
But as far as real intelligence goes…the dock is empty.
Sarya’s boots squeak on the sticky floor, and the jingle of her utility suit rings like an alarm across the deserted dock. She’s been here before—many times, on her exploratory missions through the station—but she’s never seen it without intelligences rushing about their various