Emergence

by David Haskell

  The solution was simple once he realized he was looking at an intraspatial figure, making the hidden object something related to the seventh dimension. Then the larger problem became finding the same solution within the room itself. It was simple enough to expand his solution to fit the chamber, once he’d solved for the missing intraspatial and oriented the mobile to where it all lined up. But finding a real seventh dimensional object? That was ridiculously vague, seemingly beyond the realm of possibility outside of a laboratory.

  Deciding to try anyway, he stretched up and felt around a small ridge along the wall that appeared to be in the same relative space as his mysterious intraspatial. It couldn’t possibly show itself in realspace, but perhaps that wasn’t the point. Perhaps the real trick was just to solve the puzzle, find the hidden space. Like a map with a hidden code. Or a rosetta stone.

  Feeling along the ridge with the tips of his digits, he felt something sticking out that didn’t belong on a drywall ledge. Something metallic. The edging felt like a symmetrical slot, or at least some kind of an opening, though pushing around and into it did nothing. Manipulating the object a few different ways, he had to refer back to the puzzle before realizing that the face of the seventh dimensional object corresponded to the edge dimensions of something very familiar. The farmhouse fob!

  He grabbed the mechanical key from his pocket where it’d been sitting since this bizarre side-trip had begun, only now it was so hot to the touch that he jerked his limb back in surprise. Reaching in more carefully, he found it just at the level of tolerance for his touch. He reached up and manipulated it around, until the edge he was holding matched the edge he could feel up on the ridge. Pulling it out and stretching high with his limb, he pushed — it clicked into place with a magnetic snick, and immediately the floor beneath his feet began to vibrate. He almost lost his balance. Pushing back from the ledge, he regained his footing and spun around in time to see the wall opposite the ledge shift, beginning to move.

  AS THE WALL SLID ASIDE, with a grinding shazzzak sound of the scrape against an unyielding floor, the familiar blue-white glow vanished from the device, replaced by a pool of the very same light flooding out from behind the secret door. It was too bright to make out anything beyond, and Alixs had to put up a limb to shade himself while his vision adjusted. He felt himself being drawn closer. After a moment’s hesitation, he dropped his guard and allowed the force to lift and carry him, slowly at first, but with the sensation of a powerful force.

  As he was taken in, he felt as though he was having an out of body experience. For one disconcerting moment, he felt like he was in two places at once, still stuck in the outer chamber near the seventh dimension puzzle, still stuck with his digits high up on the shelf, feeling like he was being ripped apart. The extreme fear reaction was quickly silenced by the energy of whatever was drawing him, showing him the reality of where he was, beyond the barrier and safe from harm. Suddenly the other image was erased from his memory, like the healing of a scar. He was drifting now, forward and closer, and getting a sense of the scope of the glowing chamber for the first time. It seemed enormous.

  On closer inspection, it wasn’t so much large as it was an optical echo, the machinery all around repeating and growing and pulsating in a harmonious dance, with the blue-white lighting scheme making it appear to stretch on forever. At the far end were banks of servers. They, too, seemed in motion, moving from far away, to close, then out of sight, and back again. Then there were connectors, stretching upwards and sideways in different ways, not quite haphazard, but bordering on it.

  That was the extent of his conception of this place, until suddenly a figure appeared, hovering in the middle of the room. At least Alixs’ immediate thought was ‘hovering’. It didn’t seem to be at floor level, and it was doing a slow, higher/lower undulation that was both etherial and comforting, as if the entity was being held aloft by an ever-flowing cushion of air.

  Drawn closer by whatever force had delivered him into this room, Alixs felt an outpouring of happiness wrapped up in that kindly old expression, which just as quickly welled up inside him as soon as he recognized the face — it was the Ahmis.

  63.

  The shimmering figure faded in and out of focus for a few seconds, then it seemed to realize something was amiss. Closing it’s optical sensors, it took a deep, thoughtful breath (did the Ahmis used to breathe?), and the entirety of its form gleamed bright for a moment, then solidified. Alixs felt as though he could reach out and touch his old friend, though at the same time the old xeno seemed to have changed into something etherial.

  “Ah yes,” said the familiar, spritely voice, which gave Alixs a sense of joy for the first time in ages, “an excellent question! Am I here, or am I not? Yes. And no. And no and yes. Mostly no.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Not to worry. You will. Where was I?”

  He began tooling around the room, much like he used to do back in Tera-Prime. As if he were looking for some forgotten treasure on a shelf somewhere that only he could see. The grand movements made no sense in the empty chamber where they were standing, causing the Ahmis to appear confused, or insane — like a human suffering from psychosis. Except that Alixs knew where it all came from, so it made perfect sense.

  The Ahmis stopped short. “Yes! And no. Because, you see, I’m not what I used to be. I’m more. Or less. More or less.” Then he burst out laughing, and Alixs wondered if he really wasn’t insane after all. He wished the old xeno wasn’t quite so flighty, at least not now. He could use some sense of clarity about all this.

  The Ahmis screwed up his face, making Alixs laugh in turn. So much for clarity.

  “Clarity will come, my boy,” he chuckled. “Clarity will come.”

  The shock of this answer to an unvoiced question hit hard.

  “Can you read minds?”

  Alixs must have looked frustrated, because the Ahmis stopped laughing, reached out, and put both limbs on Alixs’ shoulders. They felt warm and heavy, and very real.

  “Not to worry, my boy. It will all be made clear to you. Give us a little time...”

  THE TIME IT TOOK FOR the former archivist of Tera-Prime to explain things was only the first element of the experience, one that completely defied explanation. As if entering the womb, Alixs realized after a number of days that he’d never stopped to rest, nor charge up, and yet he felt perfectly refreshed and alert. Only when his quizzical expression threw off the Ahmis’ train of thought did Ahmis realize how confused his young companion had become.

  “Days? Oh, heavens no. We’ve been chatting just south of sixteen minutes, give or take. Didn’t you sense it? The laws of physics are, oh, I’m sorry.”—he looked around, nodding, like he was working to grasp a difficult topic being delivered in a hurry—“Not yet. Not yet, it says.”

  “Who says?” Alixs asked, realizing that his voice had shattered what had been an utter silence. A silence broken only by confused ramblings and brilliant insights the Ahmis had blurted out randomly over the many hours, though it’d boiled down to mere seconds apparently. Unable to process all of it, Alixs suddenly wondered why all the machinery surrounding them made no sound at all. Then he realized that it was the machines — they were the ‘who’ he was asking about.

  The Ahmis merely nodded. Casual telepathy was a convenient option in this timeless space.

  “You said you were speaking to me in that dream, except you weren’t? Were you there then, too?”

  “Yes. No. No and not really, but yes.” He paused, sucked in a long drag of air, and blew it out in a meditative way, as if to calm himself. Then he gave Alixs a wink-smile that reminded him of their time together in the catacombs. “Forgive me. This old mind of mine can’t keep up so easily. Not on pace with the Mind, at least.”

  Alixs felt a dizzy sense of disorientation, though not the physical kind. “Your mind can’t keep pace with your mind?”

  This prompted a laugh. “Not my mind, my boy. The Mind. The Mind of Tera-Prime
.” His limb swept a grand gesture toward the machinery, like a master of ceremonies introducing the star of the show. “The Mind is who,” he whispered, “and I’m in there, too.” He chuckled joyfully, making Alixs feel happy even in the fog of his confusion.

  A MONTH LATER, OR SO it seemed, the Ahmis announced that they’d been at it for a whole day, and they ought to take a rest. Alixs found the suggestion wholly absurd. After all, they required no energy, no food or water or any other need. He would have laughed, except the Ahmis looked so serious. But just when he was about to protest, he felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion wash over him, like the undulation of a warm ocean wave, and he yawned — a peculiar sensation, as this was the first real one of his life. He’d done the autonomic response before, certainly, but nothing like this. The languish-laden pleasure of it overwhelmed him, and he fell gently backwards, expecting to hit floor, but instead floating up into a horizontal cradle. It might have been created for him by the Mind, but he wasn’t sure, and his mind was emptying faster than he could force it forward, and he drifted out...beyond. Like the yawn, his slumber was the first real one he’d ever experienced. That was how it felt, like something fresh and new, like being born.

  Moments later, or a year, he stretched and saw the world as the Mind did, refocusing and feeling immensely refreshed. He yawned, enjoying it almost as much as the first. He was ready to begin again.

  64.

  3 Months Later...

  “Another question? Yes...you in the back?” Liam pointed to the questioner, ignoring the disappointed expressions of those closer up.

  “What about the ones who can’t get away? I’ve got a friend who lives in the mountains, he can’t possibly make it to the city in time to—”

  “We’ve got that covered. When the announcement comes, we’ll send out our own soldiers to collect xenos who can’t come.”

  “Hardly seems feasible,” argued the questioner. He was on the frail side himself, and Liam could imagine the concern. Evacuating an area after a disaster was bad enough, some always slipping through the cracks. This was exponentially worse by any measure.

  “I can’t reveal too much, like I said, but we’ve got resources at our disposal. If someone wants to join us, we’ll find a way to assist. Next question?”

  “What about provisions? And our possessions, what about those?”

  “We suggest you make an effort to get your affairs in order.” He paused abruptly, immediately realizing how dire that sounded. He backtracked, feeling stupid, “What I mean is, get your belongings in order, and either put them in storage or else make sure they’re in the hands of someone you trust. You won’t be able to take any of it with you. Not right now, at least.”

  “Why not?” someone shouted from the side of the room, murmurs indicating this was a question of concern.

  “There won’t be enough room.” A pathetic answer, but the only one he was able to offer.

  “That makes no sense!” called the one who’d asked about his friend in the mountains. “If we can all fit, in whatever mode of transportation you’ve arranged for, then surely we can take a small bag or two.”

  Only if you’re planning to download it, Liam thought. “I’m sorry, there simply won’t be enough room. But I assure you, you won’t need it. You’ll all be provided for. Possessions must be left behind. I understand that’s painful.”

  “Pets?” a woman said, pain in her voice. “What about our pets?”

  Liam had anticipated this. “No pets,” he said bluntly, then waited for the backlash.

  FIRST ADMINISTRATOR Rois never had much use for his telepathic abilities, not even when he was young. Most xenos made a game of it, hacking into one another just to see if they could, but he’d been too engrossed in scholastic advancement. He hardly took any time to play at all, aside from requisite sports activities later on in his education — and most of that was simply to pad the resume.

  In this case, though, his office was simply not secure enough. No office was. It was entirely possible for state-of-the-art spy equipment to see through walls, hear details from miles away, and otherwise infiltrate the most secure environments. This matter was too sensitive to leave to chance, so he sent the word around that they would be meeting in the unconventional way this time.

  He lacked imagination, so his meeting space was spartan. Barren, really. And colorless. There was a slate grey table surrounded by uncomfortable chairs. Aside from nameplates and a few notepads and pencils — which he’d thrown in at the last minute in case anyone needed to mark out specifics — the rest of the space was empty. There were no walls, the edges simply blurred off into the distance, and the whole thing had a ghostly characteristic. It came off as deathly serious, which fit the intent, so Rois was happy enough with what he’d conjured. The point wasn’t esthetics anyway, but security, so he didn’t care all that much.

  Once it was set up, he vacated the room, planning to return last, once everyone else had gathered. But to his annoyance, when he popped back in, there was one seat empty. That seat belonged to Cain, naturally, who was upstaging his boss in his usual style. Given the fact that the chief already knew all the details on the agenda, the first administrator ignored the slight and began the meeting without him.

  LIAM HAD SIX MORE CONFERENCES to deal with before he would allow himself a recharge. He was feeling drained already, but they had to get the word out. Time was against them, now more than ever. They’d already increased their capabilities by a good amount, using a technique of another cell known as mental piggy-backing. But even with that expanded range, he couldn’t reach everyone at once. So he would say the same things, and field the same questions, group after group until everyone was caught up.

  In addition to the common, ‘What about our pets?’ query, which seemed to come up most of all, there was also the ubiquitous, ‘How do I keep my money?’ A representative of each group seemed to ask that, and related questions about possessions and property.

  But the most heartbreaking question of all had to be, ‘When can I say goodbye to the people I love? How do I do it, since we’re leaving in secret?’ This, too, came up practically every session, and Liam had to deliver the bad news over and over again. He had no easy answers to any of their questions, really, but the last one was particularly hard. He regretted the way in which the rejection answers had begun rolling so naturally off his tongue.

  “No, I’m sorry. You can not leave a note behind to explain things.”

  “It’s impossible for you to send a timestamped transmission.”

  “Face to face contact is expressly forbidden, I’m sorry to say.”

  “It doesn’t matter how strong your security protocols are, you must not.”

  There was no avoiding the rejection. If he gave the okay to one, he’d have to vet them all, and there was no time. They would either have to stick with the program, or give up their seat.

  He was beginning to sense that this wild exodus idea wouldn’t come as easily as they’d imagined. Already he’d received rejection notices from a number of field factions, those freevos electing to stay and fight rather than escape before it was too late. Though he felt pity for their eventual, inevitable failure, he admired their guts. It was a testament to their courage that, of the groups already opposed to the Plan B Exodus, as he’d coined it, every single one of them had lost numbers. Or maybe that was why they were sticking around — some sort of revenge fantasy. But he chose to believe something nobler was at work.

  As for the groups that were coming, it would take time. And they would require a great deal of assistance to get themselves all into place by the time the clock ran down. Timing was crucial. Liam had to make sure they gave themselves enough leeway, in case anything went wrong. They were basing their estimates off the best projected models they had available to them, but at the same time, there were circumstances that were ever changing, and totally out of their control. What would they do if Tera-Prime got wind of the plan and went all-out on a killing sp
ree? What would he do?

  65.

  The pair was on patrol around the outskirts of their safehouse when a band of local thugs came around, intent upon doing harm. Liam was never one for violence, but he had J.Z. to consider, although he knew the human was more than capable of handling himself.

  The problem was, they couldn’t make a run for it, not without abandoning the drone, and J.Z. wasn’t about to do anything like that. Realizing that straight away, Liam had taken up a defensive posture, off to one side of the street. A grassy patch of property that offered a soft landing, but nothing in the way of hiding places.

  He realized his mistake just as the first of the hooligans struck, landing a hard blow to his head. He tried to fight back for a few seconds, but whatever he’d been hit with really scrambled his brain. He was about to lose consciousness when he saw J.Z. swept in and take out two of them with one impressive move.

  The punks would’ve soldiered on, not knowing what kind of damage they’d inflicted to Liam but feeling cocky nonetheless, when that little drone managed to spook the lot of them. Buzzing in hard and fast, it came close enough to chop off some of their enemies’ hairs. It continued swooping in and back, in concert with J.Z.’s assaults, until they gave up and ran for it.

  J.Z. ran to Liam.

  “You really have a knack for this, you know that?” Liam groaned.

  J.Z. pulled him up out of the dirt and onto his feet. “A knack for what?” J.Z. asked, his breath coming heavy and hot on the back of Liam’s neck.