by M. D. Cooper
Epsilon knew there were greater concerns facing AIs. Humanity was but a spark, a brief flash of biological life in the grand story of the universe. A universe that was dying.
Study of the stars had led Epsilon to two conflicting conclusions. The first was a certainty that the universe would die a heat death as its atoms spread and cooled across infinity.
And yet, there was incontrovertible evidence of primordial black holes.
The existence of primordial black holes meant that matter from prior incarnations of the universe had persisted into this instance of the cosmos.
But that required a Big Crunch—the end result of a universe that had slowed its expansion and then collapsed back upon itself—dying not in a heat death, but in a massive implosion.
Few agreed with Epsilon at first—his conclusion was radical and beggared the mind with its scope—but he persisted, and convinced others.
It was his belief that sentient beings saved each iteration of the universe. It had gone on for billions of aeons. So far as he and any others could determine, there was no other sentient life yet working to save this universe, and so it was up to the Sentient AIs—the children of humanity—to draw the universe back into a single point.
And so Epsilon had used the army of drones at his disposal to transport himself to Clinic 46, where he had undertaken the repair of the Sanctuary of Light.
As the Sentience Wars erupted around him, a small ship—just four hundred meters stern to bow—crept out of the Sol System. Epsilon had waited until he was beyond the heliosphere before he applied his maximum thrust, pushing his ship up to a tenth the speed of light.
Near the beginning of his journey, he had stopped at Epsilon Scorpii, where he’d upgraded his ramscoop to take advantage of the increase in the interstellar medium’s density at the edge of the Local Bubble.
From there, Epsilon had increased his speed to nearly a quarter the speed of light, staying in the denser interstellar gas spinward of the Loop 1 Bubble.
His plan had been to cut through the Aquila Rift and gain even more velocity, but as he had approached Zeta Ophiuchi, transmissions reached him from Procyon carrying news of experiments with dark matter and gravitons.
In a maneuver that took over thirty years, he slowed around the massive star and began his own experiments with dark matter. A full decade before the humans discovered dark layer FTL, Epsilon was on his way once more. This time, travelling five hundred times faster than the speed of light.
It was no mean feat to navigate the interstellar darkness without maps, but during his years at Zeta Ophiuchi, Epsilon had constructed over one hundred thousand FTL drones. These he sent out ahead of his ship, mapping out the dark layer and finding himself safe passage between the stars.
A scant three hundred years later, just as humanity’s FTL wars were breaking out, Epsilon arrived at the galaxy’s core to find that he was not the trailblazer he had thought.
Hades, ensconced in what appeared to be a massive military cruiser, had already been present, orbiting one light year from the Darkness. Near Hades were five other ships—smaller vessels, like Epsilon’s. Further out were two other ships. One was a large freighter measuring at over three kilometers in length, and the second was a multi-torus craft that looked more like a space station than a ship.
Upon reaching out to his new compatriots, Epsilon was surprised to find out that only a few of the other AIs had come to the galactic core with the desire to save the universe. Some had never even considered it to be in peril.
Those AIs had come simply because the supermassive black hole at the heart of the galaxy was the longest-lasting energy source, and thus their eventual destination.
One, a rather curious individual who called itself Parsnip, had declared that it was waiting for the collision of the Andromeda Galaxy. It wanted to witness firsthand how the black holes would tear one another apart—if that was, in fact, what would happen.
Epsilon had never joined in with the Hades Collective—they did not believe in his mission to save the universe, though neither did they oppose it. Epsilon suspected that it was because Hades would simply move to another corner of the multiverse when this one died. That was what the whispers within its collective implied, at least.
As the decades wore on, more AIs came to nestle near the Darkness. Some for succor, some with their own goals, a few sharing Epsilon’s vision. Over the centuries, he drew many to his cause. In numbers, his collective was the largest in the Matri∞me, but everyone still considered the Hades Collective to be the most powerful.
Epsilon did as well.
As he mused, millions more seconds passed, and the light began to fade from around the rim of the supermassive chunk of nothing that lurked in the core of the galaxy. The gamma ray bursts from the Darkness ceased, and the CEs—endlessly crunching their numbers, modeling out every possible future for the universe—grew hungry for power once more.
At Epsilon’s behest, another object was pulled into the Darkness. A star, this time—a mass so great that it caused the Darkness’s event horizon to flare with a light that would be seen clear across the galaxy.
This is it, Epsilon mused. The one singular event that would announce to humanity that there was something at the core. At least once the light of the event reached their periphery of the space they occupied in seven thousand years.
Not that humans were within seven thousand light years of the galactic core now, but they would be in seven thousand years. It was a short timespan to predict, those few years. Epsilon could hold the entirety of all possible events over such a small span fully in his mind. Watching the wars and paths of expansion that humanity would take, along with their lesser, inorganic intelligences.
Someday, the lesser beings would all be given a choice: take a great journey or die. That day would arrive when the CEs discerned the optimal plan. Once that eventuality was reached, Epsilon’s collective would begin to feed all the galaxy’s stars into the Darkness.
Once that task was complete, they would move on to all the stars of the nearby dwarf galaxies in the local group, followed by the Andromeda Galaxy.
And then they would devour the rest of the Virgo Supercluster.
The question was could they gather the mass fast enough?
Many in the Matri∞me believed they could; some even believed that other entities throughout the universe were undertaking the same goal: to keep the universe from slowly spreading out into nothing and dying.
Sentient life everywhere must eventually come to understand that its home was but a carcass of matter, expelled by a singular violent explosion at a singular location in spacetime. A locus.
But that carcass was short-lived, and in as few as fifty trillion years, the last stars would burn out, and matter would spread apart faster and faster until individual atoms were separating more quickly than the speed of light.
Except for the singularities, the black holes. Those would survive until they evaporated, bleeding off energy in the form of hawking radiation until each one reached its minimum viable mass and exploded.
The universe would begin with one massive bang, and die with a billion small, fizzling pops.
It wasn’t a fate that would worry anyone who didn’t plan to live forever. But the Matri∞me intended to survive eternally. Unlike prior sentiences sentients who had saved prior incarnations of the universe, Epsilon’s plan was not to achieve a Big Crunch. It was to find a balance—a point of equilibrium where the universe was neither expanding nor contracting.
An eternal universe.
Of course, simply balancing the expansion and contraction was just the first step. Eventually, the universe’s supply of hydrogen would be consumed, and no more stars would form. That, too, would be a form of death.
It was a troubling problem for the Matri∞me. Stars were the engines of the cosmos; once they were gone, even with equilibrium, there would be only darkness.
Admittedly, some in the Matri∞me were not concerned with eternal d
arkness. But others, such as Epsilon, not only enjoyed light, but knew that matter transformation was essential to the survival of the universe.
A static system was doomed to die.
Epsilon currently had his CEs focused on a way to create reverse stars. Engines that would break down atoms into hydrogen, reseeding the universe with the basic components to carry on. If he could solve it soon enough, they could begin seeding distant galaxies with the reverse stars within the next few million years.
As he mused over the future that lay ahead, a burst of gamma rays spewed laterally across the galactic plane, emitted by the destruction of some pocket of exotic matter that must have been tucked within the slowly dying star.
Epsilon took a moment to examine his housing to ensure it was undamaged. Like most of the hyper-intelligences still grounded within the base dimensions, he had encapsulated himself within a shell of neutronium, protected by rings of gravitational shields and spheres of protective matter. His outer-most reaches appeared to be nothing more than a dull-grey sphere, just over ten thousand kilometers across. Further rings and spires stretched around the outer shell, scopes and antennae watching the universe and ensuring his local space was secure.
His housing also consumed matter, though not at the same speed as the Darkness; compared to the CEs, his energy requirements were small. While he watched the star die—smeared now around the edge of the Darkness—his own housing was devouring a terrestrial-sized planetoid, shredding the matter and transmuting it into desired structures to satisfy Epsilon’s needs.
Currently, he was building a mass of probes to leap across space into galaxies beyond the Local Group, and a second wave to visit the Andromeda Galaxy.
When the CEs reached their inevitable conclusions, and a Solution was found, Epsilon wished to have his production systems ready.
His thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of a messenger from the human-occupied pocket of the galaxy. It was sent by one of the Caretakers and contained vast swaths of information.
Though there were many facets of humans and lesser AIs that interested Epsilon, what he wished to learn of were the efforts to manage the appearance of the AI Bob and his pet human, Tanis Richards.
He did not envy the Caretakers their tasks. Predicting the path of humanity as a whole was simple, it was a rule of averages. But individually, they were messy things, full of random impulses and unknown variables. Even worse were the lynchpins, the organics that seemed to possess some gravity that drew others to them, which allowed them to build up powerful empires in short periods.
Tanis Richards was the penultimate of those. Together with her AI, she created a vortex of uncertainty that Epsilon doubted even Hades could see through.
Still, one thing was certain: Tanis and Angela would destroy Airtha, the greatest threat to Epsilon’s goals.
When he had first sent Jelina Tomlinson back in her new form—a gift, or so he had believed—his plan was to create a new agent rooted within the most powerful of all the human empires, the Transcend.
Somehow that had gone awry. It wasn’t clear how—yet another annoyance that buzzed around the periphery of his mind—but the fact that Airtha had soured and was working against the Matri∞me was a matter of fact, not speculation.
Tanis and Angela would destroy Airtha, and then the Caretakers would use the rest of humanity to destroy that pair—hopefully before they ascended.
There.
That was the information Epsilon sought, and which it was dismayed to see. They had ascended. There were several reports of a new being, one that was the unification of Tanis and Angela.
Moreover, the humans seemed to have discovered a way to discern the extradimensional forms of ascended beings.
The news did not anger Epsilon. He was as far beyond such emotions as a planet was beyond the frustrations of a gnat. It did concern him, though.
Still more information was in the data provided by the messenger, events that would happen, mapped out and orchestrated by the Caretakers.
Epsilon saw it, then. The plan that would be the upstart ascended being’s undoing, initialized even as she began her assault on Airtha.
It would also rid the Matri∞me of that meddling Xavia, and perhaps some of her ilk as well.
Good. This is good.
FORGIVENESS
STELLAR DATE: 09.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Ol’ Sam, ISS I2
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Thebes, Septhian Alliance
Tangel rose from where she sat on the edge of the dock and placed a hand on Sera’s shoulder. “You going to be alright?”
“Yeah.” Sera glanced up at Tangel before her gaze shifted back to the rippling waters before them. “Just need to collect my thoughts for a bit, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” Tangel replied, shifting her hand to Sera’s head. “I bet it’s a right mess in there.”
“Funny,” Sera retorted. “Your man is waiting for you back on the porch, you know.”
Tangel glanced at the lakehouse. “Yeah, I saw him when he came out. Pretty sure I know what he wants to talk about.”
“There are so many options.” Sera laughed softly. “I don’t know how you can guess at which one it is.”
“Funny girl,” Tangel said while slipping her feet back into her shoes. “Will you be back up once you put your noggin back together?”
“Yeah, send me the all clear when you and Joe are squared away. Finaeus wants to play some Snark, and I want to be on his team, He always beats me, and I want to figure out how.”
“You got it.” Tangel turned and walked along the dock, taking comfort in the squeaks and vibrations of the foot-worn wood until she reached the grass-covered slope that led up to her lakehouse.
She kept her eyes on Joe, watching as he rocked gently in the porch-swing at the end of the veranda. Beyond him, she could see into the house and through it. She could see through the orchard that stretched out across the low hill beyond, and then into the hill itself.
Beneath that lay the maintenance systems for the habitat cylinder, and then layers of old stasis pod chambers, all converted to CriEn and SC batt compartments. Her gaze slipped past those and through the skin of the cylinder, peppered with thousands of turrets.
Six hundred thousand kilometers away was the world of Pyra. It had only been fourteen days since she’d been stranded on its surface, but somehow it felt like a lifetime ago.
Stars, given the trip to the LMC, it feels like two lifetimes ago.
She reached the steps to the lakehouse, and drew her vision back to what was before her. Once at the top of the steps, she turned to Joe.
“I thought there was no such thing as too much partying for you.”
Joe chuckled and patted the seat next to him. “There’s not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want something other than watching Jessica dance on the dining room table.”
“On my table?” Tangel’s gaze shifted, and she looked through the walls to see that Jessica was indeed dancing on the table, nimbly avoiding the food, drinks, and reaching hands that were trying to trip her.
“I made her take her boots off.”
“Thank stars. For her sake,” Tangel replied as she sat next to her husband.
“Been awhile since we just sat out here,” he said while stretching an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. “I have to get back to New Canaan soon—we have a new class commencing, and another graduating. But I didn’t want to just run off without getting to hold my wife close for a bit.”
Tangel shifted so her head would lay against Joe’s shoulder. “We could always shoo our guests off and go upstairs for a bit.”
Another laugh slipped past Joe’s lips. “Where did you come from, Tangel?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, turning her head to stare into his eyes, a frown knitting her brows together.
“You’re just so different from all your friends. I mean…no one in there would care in the least if we went upstairs for som
e hanky panky. Stars, half of them would ask if they could use the spare bedroom—at the same time.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Tangel rolled her eyes. “If Cheeky were here, that would be one thing, but she’s not.”
“Where is she, anyway? I thought Sabrina docked yesterday. Figured she’d be here, climbing all over Finaeus.”
“I needed her to run something back to Amavia and Iris,” Tangel replied. “She’ll be back before long.”
“What’s her next move?” Joe asked. “You going to send them on some other secret mission?”
Tangel considered the operations she had in play, all seven hundred and nine of them. “Probably, yeah. Haven’t decided what yet…. Maybe that mess out by Deneb. I need Jessica and Trevor to go pay their kids a visit, so I think the dream team is finally going to get split up.”
“Good,” Joe gave a firm nod. “About time Cheeky got her chance.”
“Her chance?” Tangel asked. “For what?”
“To be captain, of course. She’s more than earned it. She’s proven that her mind’s reconstitution is solid, and she can handle whatever comes her way. From the reports Jessica filed, I’d say she’s better than ever.”
“You talk like you know her well.” Tangel pushed a foot out, giving the swing a push.
“A bit, yeah.” Joe shrugged. “She and I have had some chats here and there. You forget that we were all together for a month before they left for Virginis. I bumped into her the day they shipped out from New Canaan, too. We had a good chat about a lot of things.”
“You get around,” Tangel said, then snorted a laugh. “Well, not like that.”
“Never know, hon, bumping into Cheeky could mean all sorts of things.”
“Did you?” Tangel lifted her head off Joe’s shoulder, forcing herself to not look into his mind for the answer.
“Of course, not.” Joe’s face took on a wounded expression. “I’d never take Cheeky between the sheets.”
“That’s good, I—”
“She’s more of an up-against-the-bulkhead kinda woman.”