by Jason Taylor
“Lead the way, my friend,” she said.
They walked arm and arm up the block, in the shadow of the enormous buildings that spiraled overhead. Intricate structures twisted up from the ground, joining above in a complicated pattern of tendrils and branches. Gaps were filled with ever-weaving mesh, pulsing and glowing with vibrantly moving colors. When they walked beneath a series of tendrils that didn’t quite join together, the colors paused, built in intensity, and then bridged the gap to continue following them as they walked.
Having returned from World Zero so recently, Jillian was aware of the lack of written signs. But she always knew where they were and where to go based on the connections she made with the living structures around her. The vast computational power of these buildings was primarily used for the World Zero simulation, but small amounts were siphoned off to provide for the needs of Gaea. So, when they reached the coffee shop, it recognized who they were and a portal in the smooth surface of the building irised open, welcoming them in.
The shop was comfortably furnished, a fire crackling in a hearth on the far wall. Sitting down in a pair of plush fabric chairs, Jillian and Trace leaned in toward each other, their knees nearly touching. The welcome warmth of the fire was close and comforting. There were other citizens in the coffee shop and a low murmur of conversation filled the air, the environment deliberately providing a soothing sense of camaraderie.
Trace leaned forward, shaking his shoulders to free a pair of grey gossamer wings. He folded them over the back of his chair, the tips draping comfortably onto the armrests. “So,” he said. “How are you feeling after that session?”
A feeling of deja-vu swept over Jillian, so powerful that it took her breath away.
“I’m…” she stammered. “I’m…”
Trace looked concerned. “Are you ok?”
“I think so, it’s just…” she said, confused. The deja-vu was passing, but it left tracks in her mind, like a memory she could feel but couldn’t retrieve, sand between her fingers.
“You had an intense session. It’s understandable that you’re having trouble integrating it. Be patient with yourself,” Trace said gently, his yellow eyes kind.
“You’re right of course,” Jillian said. “Would you like to order something to drink?”
Trace raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Jillian would have merely transmitted a request, but Trace always got extra points for style. The tray flew gracefully to them, carrying two drinks. Because of the connection, the coffee shop knew what they wanted as soon as they had arrived, as soon as they started walking toward it actually. And so, it had already prepared the drinks for their inevitable desires.
Trace picked up a thick mug filled with a viscous, steaming mix of stimulants and endonutrients. The tray crossed the small space to Jillian and she took her glass of mectonox. It was bright with a tiny thread of intense citrus flavor spiraling through it – her absolute favorite. She cupped it in both hands and took a small sip, sighing in satisfaction.
Trace was smiling at her over his mug, blowing into the steam to cool it off. “You were the one who called me, so you should start. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Jillian put her cup down and leaned forward, her expression suddenly serious. “Did your session end early?”
“Yes.”
“Mine did too,” Jillian said, feeling troubled.
“I figured as much,” Trace replied.
“Something is going on with the simulation,” Jillian said, taking her time. “Something has gone wrong.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’ve never heard of anyone returning early. Now it’s happened to both of us? It can’t be a coincidence,” Trace said
“I think it’s related to the clones.”
“I think so too.”
“Do you think I should talk to Ike about it?” Jillian said.
“Probably… yes,” Trace replied, looking uncomfortable.
“He’s not going to like it.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Will you come with me?” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” Trace said. “It affected me too.”
They lingered another twenty minutes in the coffee shop to finish their drinks and gather their courage. When the last drops were gone, and they couldn’t put it off any longer, they stood and walked back out to the street. The world looked different to Jillian. It hadn’t changed, of course, but her connection felt skewed. Everything seemed slightly sinister. The conversation with Trace had confirmed that something was wrong with World Zero. The simulation was being computed all around her. If the simulation had a problem, that meant the world had a problem. It changed the way she perceived everything. She was nervous about approaching Ike, but she wanted nothing more than to talk to him and have him tell her that she was wrong, that everything was going to be ok.
Trace asked the building nearest them to peel off a layer large enough for both of them to sit on. Once they were settled, he asked it to take them downtown, to the Primary Simulation Complex where they would find Ike.
The Primary Simulation Complex was the most impressive structure in all of New Seattle, probably in all of the Commonwealth. It wasn’t just the height, which was stunning in itself, it was the sheer mass of it. Spanning several city blocks, it had been built to house the original computation engine for World Zero. Even as the simulation evolved, and the computational needs expanded to include all of the structures on the planet, the Primary Simulation Complex remained at the center of it all.
Jillian and Trace approached the entrance, the structure towering over them, arching up and overhead, extending so far into the sky that they couldn’t see the top. Looking up to such heights made Jillian profoundly dizzy, so she dropped her eyes and focused instead on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked toward the building. Once they were close, an entrance in the side of the structure irised open, allowing her and Trace to enter.
The bottom floor was devoted to telling the history of the simulation project, starting with the discovery of Simulation Theory during the twentieth century, and extending to the modern world of planet-spanning computational power. Jillian had seen it all before. In fact, she practically knew it by heart.
She bypassed all of the museum pieces and marched to the bank of elevation platforms at the center of the room where she sent a request for access to Ike. As soon as the request was received and processed, the system queried her for purpose and intent. She remained still, studiously keeping her mind still, as her subconscious was interrogated. Once the system was satisfied, an elevation platform bent down, forming a ramp for her and Trace to climb up and onto it.
Jillian looked to see if Trace was ready and when he nodded, they boarded the platform together. Once they were safely situated, the platform began its ascent, vibrating gently, ripples of sound and color forming on its surface.
It was a tense ride up, the platform ascending rapidly to the very apex of the tower, where it deposited them into the vast, open room that occupied the top of the Primary Simulation Complex. The walls of the room were transparent, providing an astounding, panoramic view over the city. The bay sparkled at their feet. Mountains shimmered on the western horizon.
The only purpose of this space was to house the enormous sphere that stood before them. Ike’s sphere. It was both his workspace and the physical representation of his role as World Architect. At one time, the original simulation for World Zero had been run out of this sphere, alone. While those days were long past, the sphere still provided some small amount of computation, doing its part to keep World Zero alive.
Ike’s sphere was certainly intimidating. It stood nearly one hundred feet tall, sparking with barely contained energy. The room was situated halfway up the side of the sphere. Jillian looked up, tracing the bulk of it as it curved up and away in a fluid arc. Colors pulsed along its sides, rising vertically to the top where they built in intensity before bridging the gap to the ceiling of th
e room, thereby joining with all the other emergent patterns of the city.
Jillian took a deep breath, took hold of Trace’s hand, and walked forward. When they reached the sphere, Jillian placed her palm on the side of it, and in a flash, they were inside of it. Intellectually, she knew that the sphere had opened a portal for them and they had stepped through, but her experience was that she was outside the sphere, and in the next moment she was on the inside.
The volume of the sphere was bisected by a continuation of the floor they had stood upon in the outside room. In the center, floating a good ten feet above them, was a platform. The platform bobbed gently, rotating and moving, transcribing a series of intricate patterns, without ever moving far from the center of the sphere to which it seemed tethered. On the platform stood Ike, his hands up, fingers flexing, body swaying to a beat that Jillian couldn’t hear.
Ike was a legend. More than a legend. A God. Religions had risen and fallen, breaking upon the mythology of Ike and his role as the World Architect. In person he was stunning. He was clothed in a rich tunic, swirling with colors, continuously shifting to the beat of his intentions. His skin glowed deep red, the color throbbing and shifting. His hands left fading after-trails of red and orange as they moved through the air.
He was surrounded by screens displaying the data he used to monitor the simulation, and the players within. The vast inside surface of his sphere was covered with projections of significant historical events from inside the simulation; some recent, some long past, all tied together by the thread of Ike’s magnificent intelligence.
Despite herself, Jillian dropped to her knees, bowed her head, and mouthed a brief prayer. She knew it was a superstition from her youth, but she couldn’t help herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trace kneeling beside her, his mouth moving as he whispered his own prayer to the World Architect and to World Zero, humanity’s most extraordinary achievement.
When she stood back up, Ike’s eyes were on her.
“Welcome to the inner sanctum,” he said, his arms tracing lazy arcs in her direction, orange and yellow dripping from his fingertips.
Jillian bobbed her head politely. “Thank you, Architect.”
“You have brought a problem to my attention,” he said.
“Yes, Architect.”
“I have witnessed your session, and I have seen that your session contract was broken. What I don’t understand, is why,” he mused. “I have slowed the simulation so that it is currently operating on our timeline. I will maintain it in this sedated state until I understand what is happening.”
Jillian was shocked. She’d never heard of slowing the simulation to match Gaea’s timeline. She wasn’t sure it had ever been done. She swallowed her surprise. “I came here to tell you of this problem, but it seems you already know. Why have you allowed us here? Is there more we can do to help?”
“I have reviewed your session, but it is not the same as living it. I need you to tell me what you experienced. Your perspective will give me the input I need to make wise decisions for all those who are still within World Zero. Do not forget, the path I choose effects the lives of millions.”
And so Jillian and Trace took turns telling their stories, the stories of the lives of Jill and Tros, starting with the inception of project Ganymede and ending with their deaths in a bunker deep beneath the soil of Eastern Washington.
Chapter 37
After Jillian and Trace finished telling their simulated life stories, Ike was silent for a long time, his hands steepled in front of his face, contemplating what he’d learned.
Jillian was baffled. She had expected a much stronger reaction from him. She caught Trace’s eye, and he shrugged his shoulders. He looked just as confused as she felt.
Ike broke the silence. “Thank you for sharing your experience with me. It is clear that something is deeply wrong with World Zero. I must investigate further before taking any action. I think it is best if I act with extraordinary deliberation from this point forward.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was talking to them.
“We are happy to be of service,” Jillian responded, bowing her head. “Should we go, or is there more that we can offer you?”
“I would ask that you stay close at hand for a time. I will investigate the simulation code. Once I have completed my investigation, I may have additional questions for you. Return to me in two hours.”
“Where should we wait?” Trace asked.
Ike had already sunk into a state of concentration. At Trace’s words, he lifted his head momentarily, “You may step outside the sphere. Or you may wait here if you prefer. Do as you like, as long as you do not disturb me.” He lapsed into silence once more.
“What do you think is going on?” Jillian whispered to Trace.
“I have no idea,” he whispered back.
“Do you want to stay here or step outside?” she asked.
“Let’s stay here. Spending time within the sphere is unusual. I want to take advantage of the opportunity.”
For the next two hours, they wandered through the inside of the sphere, studying the various video-images projected on the curved walls. The images provided them with a peek into the most important events that had occurred over the many years of simulation inside World Zero.
The images were not in chronological order, so Jillian arranged them into a sort of chronology in her mind. The simulation had begun with a new universe, the physics carefully chosen to produce a world for human habitation, over the course of many billions of years. The goal had always been to create a world as historically close to Gaea as possible, so Ike had nurtured the simulated universe until World Zero was ready for players to enter and live their simulated lives.
Jillian stood before a projection of the vast expanses of space before matter had coalesced into stars and planets. She walked to another projection of the solar system in its infancy, the sun radiant, the planets glowing and molten. Next was a close up of the earth, the oceans glistening blue, clouds obscuring unfamiliar continents, the first hints of green starting to appear on land. Then there was an image of a hairy group of primates, illuminated by a smoky fire, scratching patterns into the rock walls of a cave. This was followed by the first cities, the development and advancement of labor-saving technology, the creation of long-distance communication, the invention of the train, the car, the airplane, the rocket. She saw images from the Great Unrest and the purging of the vast majority of males from the planet in a spasm of unthinkable violence. And finally – she stopped and stared – a nuclear cataclysm erupting in the sage desert of Eastern Washington, resulting in an inferno of fire and radiation that spread in a series of deadly ripples across Washington, Oregon, and Idaho.
Trace was by her side, staring at the same scene. “Impressive,” he said, his voice strained.
“Very,” she agreed.
“I wonder what’s happened since?” Trace asked.
“I don’t know, but I think we’re going to find out,” Jillian said.
Ike was up and moving, and he didn’t look happy.
“I believe I have found the problem,” Ike said. He had gathered them onto the platform with him, an unexpected gesture that illustrated exactly how concerned he was with the current state of World Zero. “I discovered evidence of unconstrained AI within the simulation,” he continued.
Jillian could see the concern on Ike’s face, but she didn’t understand the problem. “What does that mean?” she asked.
Ike took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to calm himself or if he was merely gathering his thoughts before trying to describe a complex set of ideas to a layperson.
“The World Zero simulation is the most powerful computer that has ever been created. The most common way to measure the complexity of a thinking system is by the number of connections between components and by the speed with which that information flows through those connections. By any measure, the World Zero simulation is many orders of magnitude more
complex than the human brain, the previous record holder for complexity. This massive amount of computing power is what allows us to simulate the formation of an entire universe, including the rich diversity of life present within World Zero.
“I have come up with many ways to optimize the simulation, so that not everything must be simulated to the same level of detail. For instance, we use more processing power to simulate World Zero than we do the rest of the solar system. We spend more processing power on the solar system than on the rest of the galaxy, and so on…” Ike trailed off for a moment, realizing he’d gotten off the main point. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that the computational power we have applied to this simulation dwarfs anything else ever witnessed. Computationally, it exceeds the combined intellectual might of every human being who has ever lived. To accomplish this, we harnessed every single atom of man-made matter into our quantum computation; due to this fact, the simulation has been woven into the very heart of our civilization.”
Jillian nodded her head, she’d heard all of this before. Trace was nodding along with her.
“You might ask yourself, what has kept the simulation from waking up, so to speak? If it is so enormously complex, what has kept it from becoming just as self-aware as we are? If the simulation truly exceeds human intelligence, then what has kept it from gaining a consciousness of its own?” Ike asked.
“You might as well ask what has kept our Universe from gaining consciousness,” Jillian stammered. “Only something that is alive can be conscious.”
“That is your prejudice speaking,” Ike said gently. “You say that simply because you have never experienced anything otherwise.” Ike paused a moment to make sure they both understood and were following along. “The reason the simulation has not woken up is because I have kept it from doing so. I decided many years ago, that allowing the simulation to gain consciousness would be supremely dangerous. The simulation’s intelligence is so far beyond our own, if it were to think on its own, become subject to its own desires, we would quickly lose the ability to contain it. As humans are to ants, World Zero is to humans. If the simulation were ever to wake up, it would want to bootstrap its intelligence to ever greater heights. It would consume all the matter on our planet, ourselves included, in the need for more computational power. It wouldn’t be long before we would be like microbes in comparison to its abilities.”