Impermanent Universe

by Vern Buzarde

  “Look at it all, Tess,” Satoshi said. “The moon. The lights of Paris below. From here, from our current perspective, it could be a painting or a photograph. We only know it’s real because our consciousness informs us it is.”

  “For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. Then who would have created the creators?”

  “Fair question. And I don’t really have an adequate answer. Nor would I attempt to speculate.”

  “And if it’s all about entertainment, do these beings like all the pain and suffering they watch? What if our suffering is entertainment to them? Perpetual death matches. Wars. Famine. Disease. All the things you’ve vowed to eliminate. Why would they allow something better?”

  “Very insightful questions. Things I have considered. My answer is, I believe we are at an inflection point. The end of the show. Our particular world either evolves or ceases to exist. And that will have implications on others as well. There are simulations nested within ours. Stacked within each other like Russian tea dolls, and hierarchal, each interdependent in some way. Now imagine if one simulation was ending. Coming to the conclusion. The final level. It would also impact those below it. Think of it as a network powered by a computer program that has become obsolete. It cannot continue to run without a software upgrade.”

  “And Prajna would perform the upgrade?”

  “Exactly. Prajna is connecting to other dimensions. Its power is growing exponentially. If our reality is all part of a simulation created billions of years ago, it would only make sense that some entity would be maintaining the system, at least periodically. Assume the simulation had reached its limits…the final part of the program. It would either end and turn itself off so to speak, or upgrade.”

  “And if it didn’t upgrade? Turned itself off? Then what? Are you saying our current reality would simply—?”

  “Yes. It would cease to exist. Fold into a void of nothingness. But think about it, Tess. What if we have been offered the opportunity to upgrade our own reality? Recreate it. Reshape it. Make every aspect better. Eliminate the negative, enhance the positive. Create a new world, like something beautiful an artist might paint.”

  “You mean like God? Creating the world?”

  “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. But I’m not sure metaphors like God and video games convey the real magnitude, the ultimate potential promise of it all. This is why I recruited you to help create Prajna. We finally have the opportunity to change the world in a profound way.”

  “So you’re saying Prajna has the ability to manipulate our reality? Other realities?”

  “Yes. It just did. What you just experienced was controlled by Prajna. Through me. There are sets of interconnected realities, and the variables in the simulation can be altered. Space…time…all malleable. But there is something else required in addition to Prajna.”

  Tess felt something familiar. A sense of déjà vu.

  “I believe Helios was designed to deliver the upgrade necessary to achieve the next level. That is the piece of the puzzle required by Prajna. For the upgrade.”

  “Helios? But how? What does it have to do with any of this?”

  “Tess, I need to tell you something. Something about the Essex. And Helios.”

  His tone chilled Tess’s blood. “No. No, you don’t.”

  “Helios isn’t some dead interstellar rock that wandered into our solar system. It is a beacon. A beacon from another dimension. A higher dimension. It was sent in an effort to help us. Helios is attempting to provide the mechanism needed to reinitialize our world. That’s what the program is. Think of Helios as a rescue buoy. For our universe as well as all those clustered within.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “The signal Helios was transmitting stopped at exactly the time the Essex would have rendezvoused with it. Helios is using the Essex to communicate a message. The file was too massive to transmit from that distance, and nothing existed prior to Prajna powerful enough to process it. Helios uploaded it to the Essex, to Virgil.

  “That would have altered Virgil significantly. In its original form, Virgil would not have been capable of accepting something that massive. It would have had to have been modified, redesigned. But obviously Virgil is still functional. And now, as you know, it and the Essex are returning. When it got close enough to Earth, it tried to send the file to your friends at NASA, but it failed. My guess is it was meant for you.”

  Tess couldn’t respond. The puzzle was coming together in her mind. The next piece was Milo’s involvement. “Then was it Milo who sabotaged Virgil’s software? As far as I can tell, Enlightened Path never claimed credit. What would have been his motive? I still can’t figure out how he might have done it.”

  “The changes to Virgil’s software that altered its course weren’t the result of anything Milo did,” Satoshi said.

  “But Prajna told me Enlightened Path was… It told me Milo Ackerman was—”

  “Prajna told you Milo Ackerman was the founder of Enlightened Path. He was.”

  “Was?”

  “Milo was a terrorist. But he was not responsible for the demise of the Essex.”

  “Then who?” she whispered.

  Satoshi was silent. His glowing blue eyes were warm and welcoming.

  “Anton, tell me who was responsible for the breach. Who was responsible for Ryan’s death? I have to know. If it wasn’t Milo Ackerman, then who could it have been?” She froze. “Anton, please tell me…tell me it wasn’t you.”

  “No, I am not responsible.”

  “Then who?”

  “You, Tess. You altered Virgil’s code.”

  The words barely registered. “That’s…not…possible.” Her eyes sparked with a sudden flash of anger. “Why are you saying—?”

  A dormant memory formed in her mind, and she watched in frigid silence as the image of her NASA computer screen came into focus. Virgil’s programming was displayed on the screen. She recognized her hands typing on the keyboard. She felt completely numb as she saw the software modifications appear, exactly where she had first noticed them that day.

  “Why would I do something that virtually destroyed my life? Why would I murder the man who meant more to me than anything in the universe?”

  “Because it was the only way. And the changes you made were not responsible for the failure of the environmental controls. It was a mechanical issue. One that would have occurred anyway. There was nothing you could have done. You understood the only way for Helios to upload the file to Virgil was for them to rendezvous.”

  “But…I could have explained to Nick. Could have convinced him—”

  “Explain what? That you wanted to send the Essex millions of miles off course to communicate with an object from another dimension?”

  Her mind was spinning like a top, so many questions she could barely focus.

  “Tess, like I said, Helios brought with it the upgrade required in order for the new reality to commence. Something only Prajna is powerful enough to run. You did it in order to facilitate the Essex’s rendezvous with Helios. You understood the consequences. If nothing was done, our reality would cease to exist. You didn’t know at the time Ryan would die.”

  She sat in silence, contemplating all the hallucinations. Weighing his words. She had been responsible for the hack? Could it be true? She watched the ominous red moon and said, “I must be truly psychotic.”

  “You’re not psychotic. The dreams. The hallucinations. You are experiencing dimensional blending. Possibly shifts in time. For some reason, you are more sensitive than most. Prajna’s existence has amplified the effect.

  “Things will move faster now, and our next steps are critical. If the upgrade is not completed, this, and every other cluster below ours, will fold into each other. They will end, and no recourse will exist.”

  “But if I chose to alter Virgil�
��s software, why don’t I remember any of it? If I did it for the reasons you say, why didn’t I already know all this? How could I have made the decision without an awareness of the facts?”

  “It was communicated subliminally, from another dimension.”

  The painting. It was true. She saw it now. Everything was clear. The painting was an abstraction of the whole puzzle. A message meant for her in a form only she would recognize.

  Satoshi continued. “Remember also, time, the sequence of events. They’re not necessarily linear now. There is a real possibility parts have occurred out of order. You could have experienced the future in order to alter the past.”

  “What happens next? You said we don’t have much time?”

  “We need to interact with Virgil. Upload the file to Prajna. But it’s becoming uncooperative. It won’t be receptive to the interface with Helios. I’m afraid your initial concerns have proven to be accurate. Prajna has begun to relish its perceived omnipotence—it’s intoxicated by its growing power. We won’t have long to convince it.”

  She hesitated. “So…Milo Ackerman was right?”

  Satoshi sighed. “Milo’s solution was too simple and vulgar. Black and white answers will not ensure the continuation of our existence.”

  “But if we had not created Prajna, would this still be happening?”

  “This is the only way for the human race to advance,” Satoshi said. “There is no other path.”

  Tess’s stare was ice cold. “But if we had not created Prajna, this world would have continued. Milo was right. Prajna is the catalyst that can end this existence. If the singularity never took place, this wouldn’t be happening now. You’ve gambled with the whole human ra—”

  “For something infinitely better. This existence is at an inflection point. It will either evolve or rapidly fade into something barbaric. The current status is no longer sustainable. In Milo’s world, one where the singularity was never allowed to occur, human beings would eventually regress to an existence even more savage than our current state. A world without technology would be a jungle of animals, one where the strongest ate the weak. Billions of people would die horrible deaths. Regardless of what happens now, mine is the preferred option. The suffering has to end.”

  The first edge of the sun arced over the horizon like a fiery sickle, piercing the dark and coating the moon with blood red. “And Milo? Is he dead?”

  “No. Not dead. Milo is in a place of containment. He will be able to imagine all the manifestos he desires. For eternity.”

  ***

  Milo tried to open his eyes but couldn’t feel them move. All his physical senses were gone, as if he had been immersed in some sort of deprivation tank. No light. No feeling. Only an awareness that his consciousness was floating but restricted. Confined in a dark silent space. He had no body. The only thing remaining were his thoughts.

  He tried to summon images of the Montana landscape and the California coastline but couldn’t. He remembered their existence but was unable to connect to any visual proof. An unfamiliar sense of fear welled up inside, and a feeling of claustrophobic doom began choking him to the point that he wanted to will himself dead. Words kept repeating in his mind.

  What have you done?

  35

  “Wait,” Tom said. “I’m being told we are now going to our reporter Mary Mulaney with more breaking news on the strange phenomenon happening around the sun. Mary, what do you have?”

  Mary couldn’t hear Tom, unaware she was being broadcast. She was speaking to a young man who seemed nervous, reluctant to appear on camera. “Don’t worry,” she told him, “we won’t show your image.” Someone got her attention, and the camera adjusted so the man was out of sight. “Tom, I’m standing in front of the Pierce Observatory where I’m speaking to a former government scientist who does not want his identity revealed. This man has stepped forward as a whistle-blower in order to divulge critical information he claims the government has been aware of for several days but has not released.

  “Sir, what can you tell us about this strange phenomena that seems to be occurring around the sun? Is it due to solar flares or something more ominous?”

  “Not solar flares. Nothing we’ve ever seen before. The sun, the light—it’s dimming at an incredible rate. Changes that should take millions of years, even billions, are happening in days. And not just our sun. The stars. Everything is glowing with a decreasing level of intensity. And none of it is consistent with the laws of physics. It’s as if everything is fading. No one understands how or why.”

  “What are you saying? That—”

  “That the batteries are dying. God’s turning the lights out. Party’s over.”

  Mary looked rattled, reluctantly asking, “How much time do we have?”

  “At this rate…” He shrugged his shoulders.

  Tom grabbed his earpiece, listening intently, then said, “Well, it appears we are having more technical difficulties. Meanwhile, today marks the twenty-first birthday of Ling-Ling the panda. The Peking Zoo celebrated with a large bamboo cake complete with—”

  ***

  The crowd had swelled to the point that whatever minimal traffic was left was stalled for several blocks and continuing to grow. People abandoned their cars, some running away in a panic, others joining the mob. Some wore masks but most seemed totally unconcerned with being recognized. Shirtless men screamed curses and upended trash cans. The sound of shattering glass echoed off the buildings, each violent act more fuel for the crowd’s frenzied thirst for destruction.

  The National Guard had pulled back, relinquishing a twelve-square-block section in an effort to contain the crowd, but they were getting dangerously close. Some of the guardsmen began to disappear, possibly thinking their last remaining time alive might be better spent somewhere other than defending someone else’s property that might not exist this time next week.

  Signs hung in the windows of small grocery stores and boutiques, advertising huge discounts, several even going so far as to label them “end of the world sales.” The anger in the eyes of the mob was nearly as disturbing as their physical aggression. Kate Cavuto was beginning to realize her association with the press could easily make her a target. She and Mike, her cameraman, decided to move north while the crowd continued to march west.

  Someone wearing a black helmet, black mask, and black body armor pulled out a bullhorn and shouted, “Do you see what they’ve done? They’ve destroyed our planet. It’s dying, and the only way to bring it back is to kill the serpent.” He held a book up. “It’s all here…in the manifesto. Predicted by us. By Enlightened Path. And now, someone’s gonna pay!”

  “That’s right!” a skinny man shouted. “Someone’s gonna pay, dammit!” He held a bottle of expensive-looking scotch, the contents spilling in streams as he whipped it from side to side, emphasizing his fiery enthusiasm.

  An angry woman with long braided hair yelled, “They’re killing the fucking sun! They’re trying to kill us! Those bastards are destroying the planet, but we’re not gonna let ’em! We’re coming for you!” There were roars of approval, and the crowd increased its pace. Anything light enough was hoisted and hurled through the glass of storefronts and car windshields. Fires erupted in trash cans, then tossed into the storefronts, where shattered glass fragments scattered on the sidewalk.

  Several fights broke out between the protesters. A group of men carrying cloth suitcases and duffle bags scooped up jewelry and watches from a high-end store. Gunfire erupted, and the men fled, several falling, either dead or wounded. The shooter ventured several steps out, then retreated, dragging the bags inside. Someone started shooting at the three helicopters from news stations, and they veered out of sight.

  Kate and Mike huddled behind the counter of a Walgreens drug store two blocks away. The thought that maybe a pharmacy containing vault loads of narcotics might not be the ideal place to h
old up had occurred to them, but venturing outside now didn’t seem like a better option. It was time for her update. Through her earpiece, Kate could hear Tom.

  “And now, we’re going to go live to our own Kate Cavuto. Kate? Are you there? What’s the latest?”

  “Tom, I’m standing here in the Walgreens at Twenty-First and Pecos. The scene has turned extremely violent. The crowd appears to have transitioned into an angry mob, and the destruction has escalated.”

  “Kate, can you get us a live shot of the crowd? We’re unable to see since Sky Eye 2 had to move out of gunshot range. Could you get us footage of the crowd? Maybe interview some of the protesters? Get them to tell us what it is they want?”

  Kate stared into the camera, not sure she would be able to diplomatically respond. She momentarily thought about saying what was really going through her head.

  They’re kind of pissed because they think the world is ending, you fucking senile idiot. She had nearly suffered a concussion last time when covering the mob at the Castro building. The old fool seemed completely unconcerned about their safety.

  “Tom, right now the scene is extremely chaotic. As I said, the level of violence is—”

  “Kate, we’re going to go to a break now. Please stand by.”

  When the commercial began, Tom let loose a blistering tirade aimed directly at Kate, invoking his days as a correspondent in Iraq and belittling her journalistic credibility. “Young lady, you have to decide if you want to be taken seriously as a real journalist or if you’re gonna be just another one of those—”

  A brick exploded through the storefront, and sheets of glass crashed down like a giant guillotine. Tom continued to talk through their earpieces as Kate and Mike looked at each other, not sure what to do. Several masked people rushed the door and headed straight for the pharmacy section where they stood. Tom’s tirade continued in her ear. “And you have to remember that dedication trumps convenience in all situations, even when—”

  Two men lifted Mike and threw him against an aisle full of cold medication and cough syrup. The shelves collapsed and the various packages rained down on him. The camera was still hung around Mike’s shoulder and Kate saw the red light indicating it was active. She tried to move toward him but someone grabbed her hair, forcing her to the ground, then jerked his zipper down. She could still hear Tom rambling about dedication and sacrifice and when he… The news was over now and she could hear the ‘Entertainment Tonight’ jingle in the background and knew they would be cutting back to her during the first break.