by Paul Anlee
Yes, she was certain of it, now. If she wanted to get closer to Alum’s own portal to the outside universe, she had to return to the forests and start walking.
Inward, this time. Not out, but in.
Mirly closed her eyes, and shifted.
21
Darya met Artero in the concept space of Eterna.
They wore their inworld human avatars for familiarity and surrounded themselves with the classic symbols of their association networks.
After a few seconds to align base concepts in their distinct mapping languages, they continued their discussion without the burdens of verbal language, just two machine intelligences exchanging information in a black, multidimensional space crisscrossed with shining green, labeled arcs, and conceptual nodes grounded to fuzzy-logic, neural nets, or idealized sensory memories.
The pair had a lot to “talk” about: the meeting with the other Gods, their attack, Darak’s retaliation, and the choices facing Darya. They directly compared conceptas, ideas on science, power, religio-economics, and morality alongside choice examples from their wealth of personal experiences. They maintained a sense of self, of place, and of unique perspective but shifted from location to location at the speed of thought.
The entire conversation lasted less than a second.
“They attacked us!” Darya transmitted at the end of their exchange. She didn’t need to explain who “they” were; the previous 137 milliseconds of the exchange had been devoted to a replay of her recent meeting with Darak’s secret Gods.
“They were trying to goad Darak into action,” Artero replied. “I’d say they succeeded.” He circled the memory of Darak appearing as the Angel Gabriel slaughtering the Aspects of the Six without mercy.
Darya found it easier to trust the dispassionate judgment of Artero and his post-biological objectivity than it was to trust the vibrant interests of Darak, Brother Stralasi, or herself, for that matter. She underlined the memory, connecting it to symbols for surprise, admiration, and a tinge of fear.
Artero laughed. “It would seem you all found the answer you sought: Darak will take aggressive action should it be required.”
He examined the memory again.
“Though, it’s hard to say whether he was spurred on by his concern for the Realm, the universe, himself, or...for you.”
“What do you mean? He only attacked them after they turned on him directly.”
“Are you sure? Look closely at this frame,” Artero replied. “This was during the initial attack on you and your companions. Notice his eyes flash with anger...here?”
“Maybe. But the only action he took before they attacked him was to defend us,” she asserted.
“You don’t find it interesting that their first attack was directed at you?”
“It makes sense to probe your enemy’s weakest point first,” Darya answered. “We were obviously Darak’s weakest point.”
“Precisely! Don’t forget, these Gods use a level of reasoning that far exceeds our own. And don’t overlook how they must’ve deduced how special you three had to be to Darak.”
Links to complex emotional clusters shot out from Darya’s memories of the attack, reflecting her own conflicted interpretation of her relationship to Darak.
Or the relationship that distant Kathy-me had to the distant Greg-him. Ughhh! Our lives have become so complicated. We can’t afford to have this kind of distraction on our minds going into war. It’ll have to wait. I need to compartmentalize it and sort it all out after. If there is an after.
“Do you think Darak will call on the Gods for assistance?” she asked.
Artero considered what he knew.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. He dispensed with their attack against him easily enough. He proved to them how pitifully inferior their capabilities are compared to his, much like he sees his own compared to Alum’s.”
“Right. So wouldn’t it make sense for Darak and the Gods to combine forces and unite in confrontation?”
“You mean, throw in with allies who’ve demonstrated little or no trustworthiness toward him? To what advantage? What do they bring to the resistance? If it were my decision, I’d rather go it alone than worry about what they were getting up to behind my back.”
“I admit, the actions of the Gods make it difficult to have confidence in their loyalty during an attack,” Darya said.
“To say the least,” Artero agreed. “Is there any chance Darak does not believe that these duplicitous entities are likely to turn against him again as soon as the battle is won, if not right in the middle of it?”
Darya frowned. “Maybe. Or maybe they thought it was the only way they could finally convince him to go to war.”
“Okay, just for the sake of argument, let’s say he could trust them. Does he need their help?”
“I’m not sure. He was powerful enough to deal with the Six on his own. What I don’t get is why would he choose to repel their attack in his Angelic form? A God is much more powerful than an Angel.”
“I think the Angel was simply the physical form he chose to dispatch their Aspect bodies,” Artero answered. “I suspect there may have been more Darak-the-God behind his attack than he let them see.”
“How do you mean?”
“Darak tore them apart with his sword. Think about that: a sword.”
“So..?”
“Wouldn’t you expect the Gods, any God, to be impervious to sword attack, no matter how sharp the blade or how skillfully handled?”
Darya reviewed how Darak, in the form of the Angel Gabriel, had slashed through the ranks of the Aspect’s bodies.
“You’re right, that doesn’t make a lot sense. Why didn’t they just alter the local laws of physics and make his sword dull? Or insubstantial? Or make it pass through them without harm? Why did they let it cause any damage at all? They certainly have the capability.”
She sensed Artero’s patient smile.
“Perhaps they did try to alter the local physics or to escape,” he suggested.
“Are you saying he overrode their alterations to local reality so fast that they couldn’t escape his blade?”
Artero shrugged. “So it would appear.”
“Of course, the ones attacked were only Aspect-versions of the Gods, only Partials, not the Gods themselves.”
“Partial Gods,” Artero corrected. “They seemed to think themselves powerful enough to attack Darak in the first place.”
“Okay, Partial Gods, but the meeting took place in a universe of Darak’s choosing. His rules. His physics. His laws of nature.”
“True, and it may have given Darak some advantage. Assuming that to be the case, why wouldn’t the others have been perturbed by such an advantage? Why did no one complain about that?”
“Maybe they’re not so bright. Maybe they didn’t think about the risks in allowing Darak home-universe advantage.”
Artero laughed. “Stupid Gods? Oh, to be so simple minded as to have the laws of nature at our command!”
Darya had to laugh, as well.
“Okay, okay. So, if Darak thinks he could defeat Alum on his own, why hasn’t he gone ahead and done it? What’s he waiting for?”
“Ah! I said he might be better on his own; I never said it would be enough.”
“But...,” Darya began.
“Exactly!” said Artero.
“Uhh...exactly? Exactly, what?”
“What would give Darak enough capability to defeat Alum on his own?” Artero asked.
She thought about that. What would give Darak the boost, the edge he’d need to match or best Alum?
“The quark-spin lattice!” she realized. “That’s what he’s been after. That’s what he needs to take on Alum.”
“He seems to think it would help.”
“But he’s already a God,” Darya protested. “He understands the basis of physical reality. He manipulates the laws of nature at will. Miracles are his plaything. How could something as simple as a new computational substra
te help? It certainly hasn’t been enough to elevate me to God status.”
“But could it be, if you were whole again? You told me yourself, Darak says you have some concepta blockages, incomplete memories, and interdictions.”
“Of my own making, no doubt,” Darya spat out.
“Lost in your origins, yes.”
“But I’ve run systems checks. I’ve examined my concepta and persona in minute detail. I see nothing.”
“Where you are too blind to see, would you also not be too blind to see your blindness?”
“Pfff. Blind to what I cannot see? Aren’t we all? Don’t throw platitudes at me, Artero. What have you found? A flaw in my concepta?”
“The same as Darak tried to tell you. Hints of damage resulting in significant loss to your thought structures. I’m sorry to say, nothing I can follow well enough to fix. I suspect the damage is physical as well as conceptual, and there may be...islands.”
“Islands?”
“Some natural links are missing. Places where there should be links to memories or knowledge were pruned at some point. Deliberately, I’d say. Most likely, they lead to conceptual islands your maker didn’t want you to visit. They make it impossible for you to follow certain ideas and associations.”
That’s disturbing. Did I do this to myself?—she wondered. Why would I do something so extreme? I don’t see how it could’ve been done by anyone else, though, given all my system security precautions. It had to have been me. So, what knowledge could be so horrible that I’d destroy it and block the paths back?
“I see your turmoil,” Artero said softly. “But there is a way out of it.”
“Give the quark-spin lattice to Darak and, in return, ask him to heal me?”
“Would that be so awful?”
Awful? To be whole again? Perhaps better than whole? Perhaps to share Darak’s deep understanding of nature? To become a God?
The possibility terrified her as much as it excited her.
“I could be Darak’s ally against Alum.”
Artero smiled. “I suspect he trusts you more than the other Gods. If nothing else, you’re human, too.”
“Am I?” Darya wondered aloud.
After so many millions of years of fighting against it, can I still claim any allegiance to the Realm of Humans?
Artero delivered a reassuring pat on her arm.
“You most certainly are,” Artero replied. “Not many could have endured the sacrifices you’ve made to ensure humanity’s survival. Don’t ever forget that. Humanity is not conferred upon us by the shell we wear, nor by the hardware in which our thoughts reside.”
22
Raytansoh dispatched millions of biodrones to Alum’s Realm to search for the God at the center of it all.
It was an extravagant move. Some might say, excessive. But the present threat—and opportunity—demanded immediate and decisive action, and his biologically-based drones outperformed electronic, spintronic, and optical systems every time. They would not let him down.
The biodrones’ ability to mimic native life yielded an exceptional edge. They were nearly invisible to casual observers, infinitely flexible, needed little guidance, and adapted easily to whatever local environment they encountered. On watery planets, they looked like innocent jellyfish or small Volvox-like clusters of cells. On gas giants, they became rippling miniature balloons. In the vacuum of Cybrid maintenance asteroids, they were rocky mites, too small to be noticed by optical sensors more than a meter away.
To ensure secure data transmission, he outfitted each one with a tiny cluster of atoms whose inner-orbital electrons were entangled with his own communication devices.
As expected, the information pouring in from Alum’s Realm was rich and immediate, and Raytansoh had to dedicate significant processor capacity to monitor incoming transmissions.
What he hadn’t expected was to be impressed. It pained him to admit it but he was impressed. Considerably impressed.
Not by the sheer size—although Alum’s Realm was far more extensive than his own—but by its unexpected efficiency and diversity.
An exemplary model in organizational skill! Alum’s Realm has utilized available resources better than we have.
But Alum had made some choices that Raytansoh could not respect. Worse than that, they rankled his sensibilities.
First, was Alum’s decision to move toward distributed consciousness. Why would anyone spread out one’s actual self across the universe, when one could achieve omnipresence simply by entangling and linking whatever surveillance devices or robots one desired? Spreading out sensory input was one thing; distributing your consciousness was something else entirely.
Raytansoh had experimented with distributed consciousness. He didn’t enjoy the strange feeling that came with the experience and had given it up. Integral consciousness, having his entire mind in one place and connected through multiple external channels to his vast empire among the stars was equally effective. Besides, it felt more natural.
Alum’s second decision that reduced Raytansoh’s esteem for Him pertained to the issue of genetic purity.
Unlike Alum, Raytansoh had chosen to maintain the species identity of his people and colonized only the rare, suitable planets where they could live without extensive genetic manipulation. As a result, over the 100 million years his empire had been expanding, Raytansoh’s people had come to inhabit a small percentage of new worlds. That was to say, a relatively small percentage compared to the people of Alum’s Realm.
People—Raytansoh huffed. Alum’s people are so genetically and culturally diverse, they’re barely related to each other. Some may not be related at all!
He grimaced and tried to shake off the revulsion he felt for the proliferation of various species calling themselves human.
Alum’s people, His human-derived people in any case, could have contented themselves with a few ringworlds. They could have lead lives of indolent luxury, leaving the difficult work to the mechanical beings. Cybrids, they call them—Raytansoh reminded himself.
Instead, they keep working, keep reproducing, and keep expanding. Everywhere the drones explored, Alum’s People were industriously maintaining and growing their Realm.
What Alum’s humans didn’t know, but Raytansoh’s biodrones discovered, was that these cities were “magically” grown and their advanced technologies were maintained by battalions of secretive Cybrids. The machines worked by night while their biological brothers and sisters enjoyed an induced sleep.
It would seem that humans like to putter but leave all the heavy work, both physical and intellectual, to the machines.
These lazy, inept biological humans claim the planets and ringworlds for themselves while their Cybrids colonize the deep vacuum of space, airless planetoids, and moons. If you could call establishing Cybrid stations colonization. The Cybrid stations could be described more accurately as workplaces than as habitats.
Could it be that the humans aren’t up to the challenge, mentally or physically? An interesting thought. They also leave defense of the Realm to Alum’s Angels. Or did Alum give them no choice in that matter, either?
It was something to ponder. He hadn’t seen any Angels yet, which was probably just as well as far as he was concerned. Darak’s tales of Angelic ruthlessness and destructive capabilities were reason enough to avoid them.
But why would Alum keep the Cybrid work secret from their human brethren, and yet make no secret of the Angels?
Ahh, yes!—he realized. The secret work done by the Cybrids enables Alum to take direct credit for the “miracles” delivered every day, whereas the Angels appeared as the visible hands of God, the ultimate and terrifying extension of Alum’s will.
Brilliant!
Alum had successfully contrived the image of the Living God. He was the deliverer of magical technology; the source of new life forms that were beautifully adapted to each planetary environment; the transporter of goods and people; the vengeful defender of the Realm. To H
is people, Alum was all of these and more.
The more Raytansoh saw of daily life in the Realm, the more he came to admire how Alum had organized His domain.
Raytansoh had little trouble finding the Living God. He was everywhere. Enormous buildings—Alumitas they called them—sat near the center of every major city and asteroid station. And deep in the core of the Alumitas, a processing hub made the entire consciousness of Alum available to the locals. The computational hubs were all about the same size, each large enough to hold the mind of a minor deity.
Despite his revulsion and disdain over certain details, Raytansoh admired Alum’s achievements.
How does He not go insane?—he wondered. How does He ensure no part of Him acts on its own?
The strategy to distribute one’s consciousness seemed absurdly filled with external risks and fraught with the danger of generating new Gods in competition with the original.
How had Alum avoided that inevitability?
After weeks of observation, as close as he dared to get, Raytansoh grew to appreciate how deeply integrated the machinery of Alum’s mind was in the workings of every human and Cybrid habitation. Each local hub simultaneously acted independently and as part of the cohesive whole.
Grudgingly, Raytansoh grew to believe Darak’s assessment of Alum’s capabilities. The Living God’s genius was evident throughout His Realm.
How unfortunate that the Six have to conquer such a being. Alum would have made a fine neighbor, if it weren’t for His program of never ending expansion and, of course, His Divine Plan to destroy us all.
* * *
On Eso-La, Raytonsoh’s biodrones appeared as fluff from a poplar tree. They moved in concert with the other seeds in the gentle breezes. When more controlled motion was required, their integrated nanoscopic RAF devices shifted them up to a meter at a time.
Thousands of them explored the enormous ringworld. Most drifted wherever the winds took them. They passed through forests and over fields, lakes, and oceans. They passed over cities, of a sort, small concentrations of humans and their habitats.