The Whole World Is Broken
Page 6
“No! NO!” screamed the Ssythla, flailing wildly as Tench continued to craft the distortion. “We will go into the Dark together!”
The node of blackness within the Ssythla’s totem flared malignantly, and Tench abandoned his intricate distortion in an instant, focusing all his efforts on containing the reaction that was now underway. He quashed the Ssythla’s totem with brute force, rendering the creature unconscious and possibly comatose, but the effort came too late. A black mist began forming above him, faint at first but growing steadily stronger. Tench swore furiously and tried to put his fear aside as he feverishly began constructing a new glyph.
As he worked, the mist coalesced into a presence so dark that it hurt the eyes. It seemed to radiate darkness, casting shadowy gloom from horizon to horizon. Tench forced himself to ignore the sensation that the darkness was entering his lungs and stifling them.
The Ssythla jerked back to life, weeping joyfully at its master’s presence. “You came,” it cried. “You came to save me!”
A voice emanated from the blackness, like the scrape of a knife on living bone. “No,” the Entity whispered. “I came to avenge you.”
The Ssythla mewed in helpless terror as the Darksome Entity bore down upon it with the merest fraction of its terrible weight, methodically crushing it into a single point, which then vanished. Tench, continuing to refine his glyph, made no attempt to interfere.
When the Ssythla was no more, the Darksome Entity focused its attention on Tench, causing a cold wave to wash through his nerves. Tench broke out into a sweat, a reflection of his physical state which he banished from the Verch with a chant.
“You have displeased me greatly,” the Darksome Entity whispered, and the sound seemed to abrade against the inside of Tench’s skull.
“I defended myself against an unwarranted assault,” Tench replied, putting the finishing touches on a particularly troublesome spiral.
“Do you imagine that this is reason enough to thwart my will? If my creatures wish to take your life, the proper course is to submit graciously to their rapacity, thankful that you have been chosen to feed my glory.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Tench, sighing in relief as the spiral settled into place. “But now I must go.”
“I think not,” the Entity replied, creating a few experimental copies of Tench’s totem within its ebon presence. “First I will ruin you. I will call up the demons that plagued you before, and enthrone them within your mind, so that nothing will cast them down again. Then your family can watch in horror as you plunge into wretchedness.” The Darksome Entity let its experiments fade and brought forth the final version, a warped and sickening image of the lotus that would infuse Tench with its foulness.
Tench did not look at the disgusting object, or listen to the suddenly excited whispers. “That is, of course, your prerogative,” he said to the Entity. “But I must warn you that if you do so, I will mark you with this beacon glyph, which will cause you to blaze like the sun to anyone who seeks you. And you will be sought by many. Every civilized Entity in the ship despises you, and they will come howling after you, led by the Septet themselves. The beacon will burn for three days, but I doubt you will last more than six hours.”
The Entity’s hatred caused the air around it to liquefy, pooling into the petrified cylinder and eating it away. “You will not have time to implement the beacon before I destroy you.”
Tench shrugged. “That’s possible. The only way to find out is to make the attempt.”
The Darksome Entity shuddered in rage. “Although I could certainly effect my will in this matter if I chose to, the destruction of one puny individual is not worth even the most infinitesimal risk of discomfort. I will ignore your miserable existence, for the present.”
Tench smiled. “Many thanks.”
The Entity howled in frustration, and although it kept the howl silent in the immediate vicinity, Tench could hear its distant echoes ringing across the horizon. The foul darkness collapsed in on itself and was gone.
Tench left almost as quickly, eager to put the dread encounter behind him. The whispers wept.
* * *
Tench came upon the Tenbor Entity floating in an area of swirling mists and clinging vapors.
The Entity had abandoned its usual manifestation -- a flock of quicksilver doves -- and appeared as a featureless milk-white sphere. Tench feared the worst as he approached, for this was also the shape assumed by Entities who had fallen into comatose states. One of Tench’s first duties within the Crew had been to survey the known positions of such fallen Entities, visiting the ashen orbs in the hope that one of them had quickened. But the Tenbor Entity’s pure white sheen gave him hope, and a few diagnostic glyphs indicated that beneath the surface, the Entity’s mind was very much engaged. Apparently it had entered something analogous to a state of meditation.
As Tench came within a few feet of the sphere, his reflection suddenly appeared on its surface. “Hello,” it greeted him.
“Er, hello. Are you the Entity?”
Tench’s reflection laughed. “Certainly not! I am nothing more than a temporary subself, separated out to interact with you.”
“Ah. Well, I need to speak to the Entity in its entirety.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” his reflection replied brightly. “The Entity is engaged in a matter of the utmost importance. But not to worry, everything is under control. In fact, the Entity’s work will result in many wonderful things!”
Tench sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose, and his reflection courteously followed suit, although it was clear that it did not share Tench’s fatigue.
“Listen to me,” Tench said, slowly and deliberately. “The Dish is falling apart. Bots are degrading fast. Food supplies are growing steadily unstable, and the antenna’s interior is almost unlivable. The Iron Goats are on the brink of desertion. The only possible explanation for this neglect is that the Entity is in a delusional state.”
“Oh no, no,” his reflection assured him. “I know things might seem unusual from your perspective, but I can assure you that the Entity’s actions are completely rational.”
“Go autonomous and evaluate the situation for yourself,” Tench urged. “What could be so important as to make the Entity abandon the Dish so entirely, in an instant, with no provision for its absence?”
The reflection blinked as it temporarily disconnected itself from the Entity’s main thoughtstream. “You’re right. It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I’ll double-check exactly what’s going on.”
Tench’s reflection vanished briefly, and reappeared with a beatific smile.
“It’s all right,” the reflection burbled happily. “The Entity explained the whole thing to me, and even though circumstances might appear alarming to an outsider, I can assure you that...”
“Autonomous,” Tench reminded it.
The reflection gave its head a quick shake. “Something is definitely wrong,” it reported. “I raised your concerns to the Entity’s core persona, and it didn’t give me an explanation at all. Just a rush of warm, fuzzy feelings. I was perfectly certain that everything was all right -- in fact, I was ecstatic. But I have no idea why.”
Tench nodded. “It sounds like priority feedback. Can you let me in?”
“Yes,” his reflection responded. It stretched forth its hand to Tench.
Tench took a deep breath, counted to ten, and stretched forth his own hand, mirroring his reflection.
The surface of the sphere became liquid where their hands met, allowing Tench to slip through into the warm void on the other side. He closed his eyes as his head passed though the barrier, not caring to witness the abrupt shift from his own face to whatever lay beyond it.
The interior of the Entity was composed of a sense-bending substance which sounded soft, tasted quiet, and felt brilliant
ly white. Tench tried several chants to get it to conform to a more orderly sensory configuration, but to no avail. He tried to create a glyph, but the fractal lotus had withdrawn itself into a tightly furled bud.
Tench shut his eyes, which had no effect other than muting his sense of smell. He tried to cry out, an effort which produced a small ripple and a flash of light. The whispers had transformed into tingling sensations in his wrists.
Suddenly, his surroundings collapsed into sensibility, and he was suspended in a white haze of perfectly ordinary perceptual qualities. A section of the white mist coalesced before him, and he was facing the Entity, manifested as seven swirling veils.
“Tench!” The Entity’s voice was as warm as a childhood summer; far more evocative then the genderless, speciesless tenor it typically employed. “How good it is to see you! But you of all people should know how dangerous it is to join me without allowing me to prepare my mind for your presence.”
“I tried to speak to you from without, but you didn’t respond.”
“Yes, I have been preoccupied of late. But if your need to see me was so urgent, why did you not say as much?”
“Yes, well, there was a bit of an issue with that,” replied Tench guardedly. “How are you feeling? Everything checking out with your D-self?”
“It’s funny you should mention that,” the veils laughed. “I recently disbanded my diagnostic subself. It kept harping on and on about the most absurd minutiae. As a matter of fact, I have disbanded most of my subselves. I can’t remember when I’ve been in such an integrated state.”
Tench felt his hope sag another notch. If the Entity had maintained its small chorus of subsidiary personalities, he would have had a better chance of exposing it to its own dysfunction As it was, he would have to deal with an unchecked mentality that was, by many measures, superior to his own.
“I don’t think your D-self was being unreasonable. I think it was trying to call your attention to a very serious situation. In fact, I think you are suffering from priority feedback.”
One of the veils gave a dismissive wave. “Nonsense. I would know if I were suffering from priority feedback.
“That’s a remarkable claim. Can you define priority feedback for me?”
The veils quivered with mirth. “You must suspect me of a very serious dysfunction indeed! But I shall humor you.” Following this statement, the Entity emitted a series of soothing ethereal tones, accompanied by pulses of silver light.
“That’s your definition?”
“I trust it was sufficiently detailed.”
“Absolutely,” muttered Tench. The Entity had not only disbanded its D-self, it had jettisoned or suppressed large portions of its diagnostic expertise, rendering itself fundamentally incapable of self-treatment.
Tench made one last attempt at resolving the situation without recourse to drastic measures. “Priority feedback occurs when one taskset becomes autotelic in nature, reinforcing its own importance until a catastrophic imbalance occurs, resulting in the dysfunctional taskset becoming the sole focus of the subject in question.” Tench waited for a moment. “Did you hear me?”
“Certainly. You said ‘Absolutely.’“
The Entity’s rogue taskset, whatever it was, had inoculated itself against language. The only remaining option was to bypass the normal interface of the Verch entirely, and plunge the lotus directly into the star-dense mandala of logic that was the Entity. For an instant, this would fuse their minds.
It was not a procedure that Tench relished. The structure of an Entity’s mentality was significantly different from that of a biological brain, but there were similarities enough to allow things like priority feedback to be transmitted. If he did not succeed in bringing the Entity to its senses, Tench might well emerge from the encounter as a monomaniac.
But he could not identify an alternative, and since there was no way to prepare for such an endeavor, there was no reason to delay. “I understand you’re working on something pretty special,” Tench said as he reassured himself that the shrouded lotus had not lost its integrity. “Care to let me in on it?”
“I was hoping you would ask,” bubbled the Entity. This was followed by a sonorous hum, a swarm of pinpricks across Tench’s shoulders, a dazzling sunburst of blue-green radiance, and a faintly sour flavor. “Do you see?”
“Not entirely,” replied Tench. “I know this is an unusual request, but could you allow me open the lotus and join you in thought? I’d like to experience your vision without linguistic filters.”
“Why, Tench, I am honored,” replied the Entity. “I shall remove the failsafes from your totem at once.” The veils spiraled into a central point and vanished, and the white mist began to dissipate. In his peripheral vision, Tench could make out traces of the byzantine mass of arcs and polyhedra that made up the Entity, structures so dense as to make his totem seem like a child’s idle drawing. The fractal lotus, opening its blazing petals, prevented the Entity’s metaglyph from becoming fully visible to him, lest its six-dimensional architecture drive him mad.
Tench sent the lotus spinning into the invisible patterns, and the boundaries of his mind vanished.
All sensory impressions dropped from his consciousness as priority feedback raged through him. The Entity’s conviction was the strongest force he had ever encountered: it spoke wordlessly of peace and love and undeniable rightness, and echoes from deep within his own mind immediately started clamoring for him to give himself over entirely to this marvelous vision. His logical faculties shrunk in horror as his basic drives began reordering themselves around the Entity’s irresistible, unknowable goals. A sweet sense of hope and optimism began rising within him, a cloying tide that would soon stifle his identity.
Tench tried to stave off the blissful dementia with thoughts of Merinel and Byx, but this only seemed to feed the unreasoning joy. Recollections of Y’Phroum’s face provided no stability, and the vista of the Dish as seen from his favorite spar was beginning to fade from his memory. In desperation, he turned to memories locked deep within the hidden places of his mind. He gave the whispers their freedom, and abandoned himself to their hideous roar.
The old patterns of thought re-established themselves with frightening rapidity. The physical world, Tench now remembered, was a dismal and hateful place; the mind was a vehicle for spite and despair. He recalled that even the loveliest of faces sat upon a grinning skull, as grim and lifeless as the rest. He recalled that people, including himself, were little more than beasts with speech, and that the only real emotions were hatred, lust, and fear, every other sentiment being a desperate illusion born out of self-loathing. But Tench was beyond illusion now, and he saw life for what it was: a hopeless scramble for comforts that did not exist, a constant denial of the base and vile wretchedness of sentience. The unsullied logic of the Verch provided only enough freedom to make him starkly aware of the prison of his flesh. The vapid animal joy that was even now running rampant through his midbrain made him want to retch.
Rapture and despair warred within Tench’s mind, and the conflict nearly sundered his identity completely, but eventually both sicknesses began to recede from his consciousness. Tench hurriedly recited a series of chants designed to suppress the emotions, and the conflicting dysfunctions slunk deeper into his subconscious. Tench promised himself a long course of therapy in Mecantrion and turned his attention to the Entity, whose massive mentality now hovered on the borders of his own.
Tench was now almost entirely cut off from the Verch, having entered a dream state, with none of the Verch’s clarity or obedience. The Entity appeared before him, as a constantly shifting amalgam of women of various species.
“Isn’t it wondrous?” the Entity asked. It was a Glaal woman for the moment, stroking the sacs beneath her arms with pride.
“I’m sorry,” Tench said, “But I had a bit of an episode back there, and I’m still not clear on what you’re doing.”
“Perhaps so, but it still escapes me.”
The Entity took the shape of a Kriddidd woman, her carapace glowing with good health. “It took a lot of work, but soon the miracle will come to pass.”
“What miracle?”
“Why, the miracle of life!” The Entity was now an Alassa, coiled protectively about a single large egg.
Tench cursed softly. The nature of the priority feedback was now abundantly clear.
The Entity progressed through several other gravid species, including a Xolo with a swollen hump and a Nunlai with bulging brood-pouches, before settling upon Human form, appearing as a radiantly pregnant woman with more than a trace of Merinel in her visage.
“I am glad you will be here to witness the birth of my child, Tench.”
Tench approached the Entity. “Listen closely to me. You are not carrying a child. You are developing a highly fractured and delusional subself.”
The woman’s face fell. “I thought you would be happy for me,” she whispered in a broken voice. “Why are you acting this way?”
“Because I’m concerned for your safety. The longer you indulge your dysfunction, the less likely it is that you’ll be able to return to those who need you. Those who love you.”
“What about my love?” the woman cried. “Do you want me to abandon my child?”
“You’re not capable of childbirth – you know this! How did you yourself come into existence? Were you engendered by a parent?”
“Stop it,” the woman whispered. “Please stop it.”
“You were compiled over a period of ten years by a quantum singularity which had been modified to serve as an information processor. More than a thousand sentient creatures, on their deathbeds, volunteered to have the contents of their minds transferred to your slowly evolving matrix, sacrificing the final moments of their identity in order to increase your complexity.”
The woman looked at him, tears streaming down her face. “I thought you of all people would understand,” she sobbed. “Why don’t you want me to have what you have?”