Through the Singularity

by L. Frank Wadsworth

  On the way back, he hears drums coming down the trail. He doesn't know who they are, but if they're beating drums, they are probably heavily armed and so not afraid to make noise. He moves off the trail and makes use of the scrubby terrain once more to hide behind some thick bushes. Instinctively, he's sought the best ground. The sun is behind him and toward late afternoon. It'll be in the eyes of those coming down the trail. He should be far enough off the path to not be noticed, but he is also uphill, near the ridge, so he should be able to flee if necessary.

  The drums get louder, and he now notices bells, and chanting. After a few minutes, he sees the beginning of the procession—men walking three abreast in multiple rows. The first row carries long poles with three cross pieces near the top, from which hang three small bells on each arm—18 total. The next set of three are drummers. Everyone is dressed in ceremonial garb, white and scarlet, and chanting. He hasn't heard the language before; nor does it seem particularly similar to the ones he does know. Strange. Intrigued, he moves a little to ensure he will see whoever passes.

  The rows of bells and drums are followed by three rows of armed men. The first are archers; the next two carry bronze swords and small wooden shields. Then he sees a sedan chair, garishly painted in bright red, violet, and yellow. Upon the chair sits a veiled woman, dressed like a harlot, but very regal. Suddenly, he hears voices in his head. Actually, a voice, though he can't understand it. The woman on the chair sits up and looks around. She orders the procession to halt. The eight men carrying her sedan gently place it on the ground. She hops out lithely and sweeps her veil back. She is tall and tan. She doesn't look like the others. If fact, she reminds him a bit of… her. Zaleria. It is clearly not her but similar enough to remind him almost immediately. She looks angry as she gazes around the horizon circle. Achi pulls back behind the bush but feels her gaze as it sweeps over his spot. He can feel her presence in his mind. She knows he is there. He hears shouting and knows that at least a dozen well-armed men are heading for him. He doesn't wait for verification but simply abandons his roebuck and flees over the hill. He glances back one time as he reaches the top. Her eyes are locked on his. He feels her mind probing his, but he doesn't want to let her know anything. She is beautiful, but only skin deep. He senses in that very brief touch a wholly corrupt being. He turns and flees as a few arrows fall near him.

  Rolle awakens from his dream. It was very similar to an event that happened around 8,000 years ago, but significantly different. The woman wasn't there before, at least not that he could tell. Also, there were no voices in his head; those elements were all new. He'd seen the sedan but never knew who or what was contained within, and they simply passed and went on their way. Chanting and drumming. He'd never known who they were. He gets out of bed, wondering why that encounter replayed the way it did, and why now? Well, perhaps that latter part isn't as much of a mystery.

  He sighs. Time to return to the present. He needs to review his options. The one area he needs to be careful thinking through is how to keep Zaleria from communicating with the others until he has a chance to discuss things with her one-on-one. He had learned years ago about the nanomachines that infest him. Shortly after the invention of the first microscopes, he discovered what Zaleria or her people had done to him. As science continued to progress, he eventually deduced the nanomachines were what allowed him to “listen in” on her people's thoughts when they were nearby, although there were still holes in the “how” of it. He has not yet discovered any communication signals coming from them, and he suspects it's because they exploit physics humans don't understand yet. That is a work in progress.

  The discovery of his “little friends” true nature is what started his interest in all things science and technology, really. Once he'd seen those little machines running around inside him, he'd finally figured out exactly what kind of “gods” had visited him. They weren't so different after all, just more advanced. And they are probably one of the races guiding human development. Well, two can play at that game, and he has plenty of time. And money. And ingenuity. And a head start. Which is where the nanomachines come in. If he can only reverse engineer their design… Something a select few, very trusted scientists are working on.

  He'd discovered pretty quickly that his experience with Zaleria and her people all those millennia ago had altered him forever. First, he'd learned how quickly he could heal. Then he learned that he didn't age. Later, he learned he couldn't die, at least not by any of the methods yet employed. And then he learned he couldn't kill himself. He still feels angry and ashamed about those episodes, but that was also what led him to learn there was something inside him.

  They… communicated… to him that he was not supposed to try and hurt himself. He made them understand how despondent he'd become because everyone and everything he'd ever loved or cared about kept dying, and yet he continued to live. There was nothing he could do for them; it was an eternal torment. That led to some back and forth, some further modifications to his body, and greater control over his condition.

  For instance, he can now appear to age if he wants—even matching the speed humans naturally age. He had on many occasions met women whom he'd fallen in love with, aged with, and then grieved after they'd died. He gave them all he could—children, many happy years—knowing it would end the same way. They'd die, he'd endure, and start again. He can change his appearance if he wants to and a few other things—hair, eye, and skin color for instance. He can match any race, which helped him during many of his wandering years. But he had to be careful, because those traits couldn't be passed to his children. That was a lesson learned the hard way! He smiles remembering the look on his wife's face at the time. Still, it could have been worse. It takes time to change his appearance, but not much. About a week or two at most, as long as he has plenty to eat. His little friends need raw materials to work with, after all, although they can be very resourceful.

  He recalls once regaining awareness after a particularly gruesome demise. He recovered in a shallow depression, his little friends having etched it out gathering the materials they'd needed to put him back together. He's asked them many times what their purpose is and why they were put inside him. They are there “to prevent his dying until he is restored” is about all he can get out of them. And for more than 10,000 years, they have done their job very well.

  His machines have shown remarkable abilities at regenerating him long after his body was nearly destroyed. He'd been decapitated once, and they still brought him back. His lips turn down at the corners as he recalls the stern lecture he got from his “friends” after that one. Apparently, they also act as a backup for his memories, which explains his photographic memory and his retaining them even after losing his head. And he can also use them as a math co-processor. Any problem he can dream up they can instantly solve. They also help him recall and learn languages very quickly and recognize and retain faces and other identifying details about people he has met only once. The augmentation of his natural skills is seamless and instantaneous—a combination that makes him far more advanced than any other human. He can run all day if he wants, as long as he has nourishment. Speaking of eating, he can consume almost anything, as his machines augment his gut biota and break it all down. He is allowed to enjoy intoxicants like alcohol to a point, but they ensure he suffers no ill effects or serious debilitation. He can get a relaxing buzz, but that is about all they'll allow. And if needed, they can sober him up really quick. That had happened on more than a few occasions, too. Climbing, jumping, and just about any athletic activity can be made infinitely precise within his physical limits. Knife throwing—child’s play. Weapons accuracy—he can't miss.

  But his nanomachines have significant limitations. They are not all-knowing, only preserving his memories and experiences. They can respond to him within a limited framework, but they cannot really think. That seems to be a built-in limitation—they are protocol driven, with a really good user interface. But all in all, it is a formi
dable package. He's learned to take advantage of that over time. He currently uses them as a built-in mobile device for instance. He still carries one for show, but he actually uses them to connect to cellular and Wi-Fi services. They can also relay anything from his visual memory as a photo or fax. As technology advances, their utility grows.

  And that is how he knows that humanity is accelerating down a similar technical pathway. And he is helping guide it. Many of his company's inventions have laid the foundations for communication and computing equipment that simulate aspects of his nanomachines. Sharing voice, text, or visual data is now possible. Machine-human interfaces are growing in complexity and speed. Today, a machine can understand voice requests and make them happen. They are beginning to explore how to get machines to read the human mind. All they have to do is put the pieces together and miniaturize. Maybe add in some quantum computing for good measure, once they perfect it. The last step will be artificial intelligence.

  He frowns, because that is where it'll get weird. But it now seems inevitable. He is worried because he can't predict what might happen once machines can think. They will quickly surpass human abilities, and he knows that will be very dangerous and unpredictable. Clearly, surviving this coming technological “singularity,” as many who now foresee this eventuality call it, can be done. Zaleria's people had obviously mastered the transition, but he sees so many ways it can go wrong. Especially if mankind has help making the wrong choices.

  And that is exactly what he is afraid the Ereshki are up to. He doesn't know why, but he is very, very worried they are trying to lead them down a dark path. He'd named them well, and their recent actions have shown him that he may not be able to deal with them himself. He needs help, allies.

  This is why he feels it is time to force a confrontation with Zaleria, if he can arrange it. Perhaps her people can prove to be the allies he is looking for. But he'll have to be careful. He needs to maintain control. Mankind are his people, and their development is his responsibility, one that he'd taken upon himself many years ago. Zaleria appears to be the key to gaining access to her people, because her thoughts are the clearest to him. She was there when they changed him; she must know why. But she will have to be kept from communicating with the others until he can figure out if they can be trusted. For some reason though, his machines can't help shed light on a way to block Zaleria from the rest. Either they don't have the information, or they aren't allowed to share it. He does know that when Zaleria's people are nearby, his machines can establish a connection with the other nanomachines implanted in their bodies. He understands that Zaleria's people usually have other technology embedded in their bodies that allow them to communicate over much greater distances, but his machines can't build these for him. He isn't clear why, but it seems beyond them for some reason. Perhaps a built-in limitation? Still, they can establish a connection within a limited range, nano e nano so to speak, and he can make use of that. Perhaps if he knew how the long-distance communication worked, they could figure out a way to block it. All he knows is that it requires an implant near the base of the skull that isn't easy to get to.

  If he had more time, he might be able to come up with a better plan. But despite his long lifespan, time is no longer a luxury he has. There is one sure fire way to do it, but it repulses him. It will not be Plan A. The first step will be to see if he can arrange a “reunion” to try and reason with her. He smiles a bit; he is actually looking forward to seeing her. He never did get a chance to really talk with her before and thank her for all she had done.

  Chapter Five

  Stratagems

  Zaleria finds herself standing in the middle of a busy street, in a large city she can't quite place, somewhere on Earth. She is standing in a cage, a freak on display for all who pass by to gawk at. She is naked and feels ashamed, but she doesn't know why. The galanen are not ashamed of nakedness, but that is not what she is really feeling. Exposed might be a better word for it. Suddenly, she feels someone reach out and grab her. She turns, but there is no one there. She notices a small piece of her arm is missing. There is no pain, nor blood, but a piece is gone. Then she feels another touch, and another piece is gone. Then another, and another. They are coming much faster now, and she can't see who is doing it. She tries to protect herself, but she can't. She can't see her assailant, nor protect herself. Soon, there is nothing left, but she is still there, somehow.

  The crowds of people and her surroundings start to fade, but she becomes aware of another, greater presence. She is not alone, wherever she is. She looks around and cannot see anyone. But she can feel someone—or something—in her mind. It is like a connection, but different. It isn't voluntary; she has no control over what memories are accessed. This other being is picking through her mind, seeing everything it wants. And she can't stop it. She tries to fight it, but she can't. Exhausted, she finally gives up. “Who are you?”

  There is nothing but silence. But after a while, the other being stops rummaging around in her memories and grows very still, contemplating what it has learned.

  “Who are you?” she asks again. “Why won't you tell me?!” she yells to it, but only silence answers. Time goes by, how much she doesn't know. Finally, she feels something terribly immense begin to move.

  “You already know who I am. Why have you forgotten me?” it coldly queries.

  And Zaleria has no answer, because she doesn't know.

  Zaleria awakens with a start, soaked in sweat, adrenaline coursing through her system. She takes a moment to gather her bearings. She is in her quarters on Luna. How bizarre. Galanen almost never have nightmares, she thinks to herself; yet, that is exactly what that was. It was very disturbing. What can it mean? Did it even have any meaning, other than that she is under a lot of stress and isn't handling it very well? Zaleria crosses over to the bathroom, cups her hands, and washes her face with cold water. Time to clear her mind and focus.

  She has reviewed her last mission multiple times and has come to a very disturbing revelation. The human she'd apparently connected with was none other than Rolle Andersson, the person they were trying to protect during that mission. They have been following his technological progress for some time, and it now appears others have been drawn to him as well. How could he have acquired some of her symbiots?! She can't think of any way in which she could have been compromised. She is becoming more than a little annoyed. Damn it, she needs to know! She still has not shared her concerns with the collective; nor does she intend to if she doesn't absolutely have to. Her chat with her mother was very illuminating. She'll have to do it again and not wait a few decades to make it happen.

  But right now she needs to think about the problems posed by Rolle. There are multiple opportunities here, of which only one relates to her personal interests. The galanen currently assess he is one of the best points of leverage they might have for forcing the race interfering with humanity's development to reveal themselves. His companies are making the most progress in mastering the technologies that could very soon bring about their evolution, but only if they can make similar progress in their cultural and spiritual enlightenment. Rolle appears to be one of the few individuals willing to shape both necessary conditions. He is truly visionary. His charitable foundations are laying the ground work for technology rules to help prevent the worst abuses that might arise, while also trying to lessen the wealth disparities that exist within humanity—by empowering people to achieve success without falling into the “charity trap” that actually exacerbates and entrenches economic differences. That pathway only leads to division and strife, which if carried into the crisis point, is likely to lead to ruin. Because Rolle is the best positioned to help prevent this, he is the most likely target for removal by those trying to help humanity fail. There are many ways to do this, and the easiest is to just have him killed. But he is proving to be extremely hard to corner. She frowns. Even for the galanen. His resiliency is uncanny for a human.

  Could a galan have gone rogue? She
'd never heard of such a thing, but what else did her mother say? “Some things the collective does not know because it is best that they forget.” What had she seen in her extreme lifespan and then decided to keep to herself? If Rolle is a galan gone rogue, that could explain his skills at avoiding almost certain death and many other things. But that still doesn't explain how he could have, what was that human word, “hacked” her symbiots to cover his tracks. If that were possible, wouldn't a failed race have used that against the galanen at some point? Some failed races were even more ancient than the galanen, and her first experience on Earth had certainly demonstrated their creativity.

  She sighs. It seems all paths are leading to this one man, if indeed that is all he is. If he is human, then he is one of the most remarkable humans the galanen have seen in a while. If not, then that fact must become known. To all galanen. She decides they should risk making contact. Surreptitiously if possible. She will need to convince the others.

  She shares her thoughts about Rolle with her cohort, just not the private details. Humanity's position is precarious, and they are on the precipice of destruction, or worse, failure. The parameters of contact will have to be decided. Perhaps the best way is to try and infiltrate his security detail. They will not directly interfere with humanity's evolution, but they can position themselves to be close, so they can provide advice. Also, they can hopefully prevent interference from others. They quickly come to consensus on the wisdom of this minimalist pathway. There is a lot of work that will have to be done. They will need to find and fund humans to set up front companies, create plausible histories, and then select which galanen are best able to act as the agents on the ground. And what will they do if they identify the interfering race? That last bridge can only be crossed once they know. But the cohort leaders have decided, they can wait no longer; they must act.