The Deplosion Saga

by Paul Anlee

  Outfitted with comfort, security, and means, he set out to explore the city. It didn’t take long to conclude that this world was in dire trouble. The morning news had described it as, “teetering on the brink of its fourth worldwide economic recession in three decades.”

  So what happens when their economy recedes? Isn’t that a natural part of the process, the rhythm of ebb and flow? A little background reading made it clear that it would not be a good thing. With inadequate money to incentivize people, they stopped performing productive activities.

  Recessions made little sense to him. Global conditions didn’t actually change much during the period. The world’s resources moved around a little but weren’t substantially different from the previous year. Raw materials were plentiful as ever. Food, water, and energy were as available as they’d been before the recession. The population was relatively stable. Yet, people became incapable of organizing themselves into groups that got things done.

  At first, he thought a recession was the result of some kind of global anomie sweeping through the population but, if that were the case, there was little sign of trouble until right before the recession was officially entered. Why would a reported dearth of little bits of paper and of numbers in specific computer systems cause large segments of the population to become underutilized? This is the strangest game I’ve ever seen. There’s no obvious purpose except to make players frustrated and miserable.

  This thing they called “religion” was an equally incomprehensible amusement. People argued over their favorite versions of the Creation of the universe and over who reigned supreme within it. Such frivolous nonsense! In the real universe, the People know the answers to both of those questions. The People knew Yov created the universe and ordained Alum to rule over it until some unspecified distant future. When Yov felt the universe had lived up to the potential He’d built into it, He would return. There was no room for disagreement or doubt.

  Until Yov’s return, everything was a gift from Alum. The answered prayers that enabled one to eat, have shelter, move across the stars, or start a family proved Alum was Supreme. One did not need to believe in Alum any more than one needed to believe in gravity; they were demonstrable facts. Alum said His power came from Yov’s Grace and Alum’s Truth was indisputable, so that also had to be true.

  Alternus was full of rancorous disputes over the relative strengths of a ridiculous panoply of deities, none of whom could be proven to exist. How absurd. How could one blindly believe something without some evidence that the claim originated from an irrefutable source?

  If this was a true representation of the times before Alum, he was grateful he had discarded those ancient memories.

  For the life of him, he could not figure out what this inworld had to do with a possible rebellion in the real universe. Other than himself, he couldn’t imagine many people would find the sim entertaining. Without the ability to enter the inworld in some dominant position, the entire game would be bleak, depressing drudgery. He found it difficult to believe so many Cybrids had found their way into the sim and that they kept coming back for long stays. What am I missing? What do they see in this game?

  It was feasible the concepta virus he first encountered might have something to do with that. The virus had been persistent, though its intended effect appeared minimal and subtle. Could they actually be enjoying the challenge of a difficult life inworld? Could rebelliousness and disrespect for authority be so powerful a drug?

  It was logical to assume the leaders of the rebellion would have positions of importance and influence within the sim. He paid more attention to inworld leaders and their behavior in the game-within-the-game known as politics.

  Like economics, the game of politics had its own brand of complicated, fascinating rules. The players, called politicians, thought themselves important. They made policy, went to war, regulated trade. They spoke frequently and loudly, disagreeing on almost every topic with vehemence. Regardless of their fractious disputes, they appeared to enjoy themselves. Perhaps it’s all the perks they enjoy as a function of their position.

  But why would the rest of the population permit them to get away with it? It seemed so inequitable; scandalous to the point of being criminal. After all, the politicians were mere mortals like the rest of them. They weren’t gods.

  It took Trillian months of study and contemplation to understand that, while the politicians were titular heads of state and legislatures, they had a complex relationship with the people who owned or wielded the largest amounts of money including those who led corporations, those who headed banks, and those whose only contribution to society was to have had privileged parents. In most cases, the politicians modified their beliefs and behaviors to be compatible with the wishes of those who controlled extraordinary sums of the money.

  Trillian had to keep reminding himself—it doesn’t have to make sense; it’s just the way the game is played.

  When he remembered this inworld was a reputedly accurate reflection of the real ancient Earth, he was amazed that humanity had managed to rise to its current exalted state. Thank Alum and blessed be His Name—he intoned.

  He pursued many false and confounding leads until, one day, he became aware of a group of powerful and influential people pushing public policy toward space exploration. Nothing about the planet or its complicated economic and political systems logically implied such a step. Surely, the wealthy of this world can’t view it as being in their best interests to encourage the escape of humanity from its gravitational prison.

  And yet, there were a few powerful politicians and Central Bank leaders promoting this particular investment as the way forward. They claimed it was, “the only way to attain the growth the global economy needed.”

  Trillian compared the differences between the history of ancient Earth, as provided in Alum’s briefing, and the Alternus inworld sim.

  In the real universe, Earth and its People had been saved from an unspecified catastrophic threat by the divine intervention of Alum. The People had been miraculously moved to temporary colonies among the asteroids before being dispersed among the stars.

  In this inworld Earth simulation, there was no sign of impending disaster and yet world leaders were discussing the leap into space. It made little sense. Their planet was suffering enough without the wisdom of their own Living God. Why would they want to spread the disease of humanity to other solar systems? What were they really fleeing from, or flocking to, with such urgency? Did they think expansion or growth would bring them something they didn’t already have here?

  Trillian hacked into the communication accounts of several world leaders, tracing their connections and correspondences. He scoured various White Papers and their plans to explore the local moon, planets, and planetoids. He read Top Secret reports comparing the virtues of robotic versus human workers in vacuum conditions and in the absence of gravity.

  He traced the origin of the more detailed and serious discussions to an elite conference held in a small Swiss town called Davos. A shortlist of people in one particular meeting seemed to be the nexus of the movement.

  One name came up again and again: Darya.

  26

  Darya wandered the streets of twenty-first century virtual Manhattan, wondering how her team was going to convince this world to save itself.

  Sometimes she took the game too seriously. She knew that. It was, after all, only a training exercise. The goal was to stretch their creativity, practice decision making, and play out daring “what-if” scenarios within a relatively safe environment.

  Under normal circumstances, the game would be fun, a stimulating and occasionally exciting challenge.

  Knowing that the universe depended on how well they learned to play did put a bit of a damper on the fun factor. And if Alum were to discover their true purpose, well, let’s just say it would be game over for all involved. Exploring ways to split a portion of the universe away from Alum’s Realm so they could assume control over its adminis
tration—all while thwarting his Divine Plan—was sure to be frowned upon in a most decisive and unforgiving way.

  It’s a risk we have to take. We need to learn how to solve problems for ourselves, without Alum to lead. We have to figure out how to become the leaders the outworld will need—Darya had explained to her inner circle.

  This morning’s meeting at the inworld offices of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York didn’t go as well as she’d hoped. She and her senior team members, Leisha, Gerhardt, and Mary, had met to discuss how to bring the global political system on board. Her plan to convince various countries around the inworld to cooperate on an immense space-colonization program was moving slowly. Much too slowly. She was beginning to appreciate why Alum made all the big-picture decisions for everyone outworld.

  Their meeting was full of difficult and spirited discussions, as always. Her colleagues had created a mechanism by which to fund the huge increase in the national debt of any country that participated in the new space program. As expected, national governments kept looking for ways to divert those funds to “more pressing” needs.

  “Ugghhh! Why can’t they just take the money and use it as we’ve set out?” Leisha huffed in exasperation.

  Mary was quick with a response. “They’ve become adept at taking personal credit for anything good that happens in their countries, but they can’t figure out how this international program will help any of them individually. Don’t worry; we’ve set it up so that moving money from the national programs into their own bank accounts is extremely difficult.”

  “But they’d be helping the entire planet, including their own people. They’d be seen as true leaders. Heroes. You’d think that alone would entice them—oh, and guaranteeing a future for humanity. There’s that.”

  “Maybe we could improve their motivation if we included a political slush fund,” suggested Gerhardt, not entirely joking.

  Darya scowled at him. “That’s not helpful.” Their client countries were drowning in debt. They’d have to come up with a creative proposition to get more than a handful of leaders to agree to borrow any more money, let alone to fund a massive public works space program with dubious short-term returns.

  “I thought we wanted to accomplish this colonization. I didn’t realize we were also placing ethical boundaries on how we were going to convince them,” Gerhardt challenged. It was an audacious statement, and Darya wasn’t sure whether to respond with a tension-breaking chuckle or a disapproving glare.

  Before she could decide, Mary intervened. “If we wanted to ignore the how, we could ask the Supervisor to magically enforce what we want. You’re forgetting that the point of this inworld sim is to train us to become better leaders outworld in the real universe. We need practice dealing with unreasonable situations and impossible people.”

  “Why?” Gerhardt demanded stubbornly. “In the outworld, we can just share our concepta among the Cybrids and compare them for missing information, assumptions, and reasoning. Trying to convince people without knowing what they’re thinking is so frustrating.”

  Darya and Mary sighed together. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “You’re right, Gerhardt,” Darya answered. “But the outworld includes both Cybrids and humans, and humans can’t just compare concepta for concordance.”

  “Humans,” Gerhardt muttered in disgust as he looked out at the enormous, tumultuous city. On ancient Earth, the real Earth, humans had built a huge city like this on their own, without Cybrid support. As a result, it was poorly organized, poorly integrated, and generally ill-suited to their needs. Besides, it was dirty.

  “Look,” Darya said. “Leadership, whether in the human-Cybrid outworld or here in this inworld, is much the same. I know it’s practically impossible to convince the inworld leaders to work together toward—well, if I’m being honest—almost any goal that comes to mind. They’re a self-interested, fractious, irrational, intellectually-challenged lot. But it’s an important exercise. It’s crucial that we succeed, so let’s just keep trying.”

  Gerhardt turned from the window and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll give it another try. I just want you to know that I agree with Leisha’s sentiment. Buying them off is a practical solution.”

  “That’s fine,” replied Mary. “The real Earth of this era must have been heavily motivated, probably by some external threat, to get their space program running.

  “The Alternus inworld population doesn’t have any such threat hanging over them, or at least they don’t realize it yet. So what else can we do?” She glanced at Darya.

  “That’s the problem,” Darya answered. “A lot of people are convinced a jump into space exploration is required. Just a few decades back in Alternus history, both of its superpower nations were racing to establish some kind of permanent presence in space.”

  “So why did they stop?” asked Leisha.

  “I’m not sure. It could be that local problems—war, famine, bad economies—distracted them and reduced available funds. The USA made it to the moon first but, somehow, the competition turned into cooperation when the old Soviet Union fell. That could be what lessened the urgency, the race, that pushed them ahead. Maybe economic conditions also changed and other issues assumed higher priorities. Whatever fueled the initial urgency, it died off or got buried. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’d like to think it was some great conspiracy or massive cover up but, odds are, the real reason wasn’t nearly so exciting,” Mary speculated. “People—governments—just get tired and distracted, they lose motivation, before the job gets done. It’s a wonder anything gets finished at all.”

  Darya nodded. “We have only ourselves to blame. Democracies of one sort or another are in place around most of Alternus. The sheer clamor of all those voices, each and every person expressing his or her own equally-valued desires and opinions, is making it impossible to arrive at a decision and stick to it.”

  “Undoubtedly,” said Gerhardt, “and, for some reason, people keep electing Administrations and Representatives who hate each other. So the checks and balances built into the political system prevent anything of value getting done. The absence of broad consensus among the leaders and the refusal to allow the ‘other side’ to be seen making any discernible progress is crippling.”

  “Well, if we don’t get consensus soon, we’re going to lose our opportunity.” Leisha’s voice was strained.

  “That’s a definite possibility,” Darya agreed. “The engineers and scientists with the right skill sets are aging. Many of them have already retired. The watered-down, over-extended, underfunded educational systems in most countries aren’t adequately preparing the younger generations to step into their places. A society of long-lived individuals does have some advantages.” She scowled at the sheen of her now cold coffee but took a sip regardless.

  “Yes, if we don’t get our current experts working in earnest on fabricator and transport design within the next few years, it could be decades, maybe even hundreds of years, before we can be ready again.”

  Mary chuckled. “I never expected to have impossible tasks and deadlines on an inworld project. Great Alum, I could have stayed in Cybrid repair outworld, and spent my inworld time in oblivious fantasy.”

  “Sometimes it feels like our own people are opposing us,” Gerhardt said. “Not you,” he backpedaled, in case Mary misunderstood. “I was thinking of others outside our team.” He faced Darya, looking for confirmation.

  “I wondered about that,” she answered. “I don’t think it’s coordinated opposition but, yes, we have had Cybrids instantiating into certain positions of power in countries that are holding us up. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve assumed this is some standard zero-sum game and they’re jostling for personal advantage. I can’t do anything about that. Besides, it contributes to a more realistic situation.”

  “Why don’t we try changing tactics,” suggested Leisha. All eyes turned toward her. “Maybe we could mount a concerted PR campa
ign. Anonymously, of course. There must be some bloggers, writers, or filmmakers out there who would support what we’re trying to do.”

  “Yeah, great,” Gerhardt’s frustration gave way to sarcasm. “We can’t convince a few hundred so, geez, I don’t know—let’s try to convince a few billion.”

  Mary snorted.

  “Maybe Leisha’s right.” Darya paused to allow the others to shift gears and focus. “The humans of this era were used to taking orders from the top, down, just like we are.”

  “As in, ‘Might makes right’?” chimed in Mary.

  Darya laughed. “Yes. Cybrids outworld and most humans in the Alternus inworld have no real power. We all just do what we’re told. The difference is that the leaders on Earth of this time, and therefore here on Alternus, rule according to what they think their voters want. If they sense public opinion is in favor of space colonization, they will support our proposals.”

  Leisha regarded Darya with awe. “How do you know so much? Were you around back then?”

  Darya blushed. “Not exactly, though I do have access to detailed data and memories from that time. That’s how I was able to design this mess.” She indicated the entire planet with a wave of her hands.”

  “So do you think a publicity campaign could work in our favor?” Gerhardt brought their attention back to the current topic.

  “I do,” replied Darya. “It’s worth a try, anyway. Why don’t we see if we can find some expertise among the Partials?”

  Mary nodded. “That’s a good idea. Judging by our wasted efforts in Lysrandia, we don’t know as much about PR as we thought.”

  The rest of the meeting flew by. They reviewed the growing list of personnel who’d already signed on for Space Colonization and were awaiting political approval of the project. They kicked around a few asteroid habitat design concepts but only for fun. They agreed it was essential the human Partials do most of the thinking for themselves. It would be counterproductive to contaminate the Partials’ ideas with superior technology and intellect.