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The revised story begins: The singularity had crashed and burned in a viral-cataclysm that had destroyed most of civilization and every decent coffee house east of Seattle. Now a complex array of probability states undulated down a fiber-optic line surviving from pre-singularity days. The electrons carrying the message didn’t so much move as they did alter the places where they had the highest probability of existing.
Since the electrons didn’t truly exist anywhere, neither did the strange cyber-world in which they didn’t move, filtering through an immense alternate reality in which normal physical rules of the macro-world didn’t apply.
Entering a complex series of transformational states, the electrons that weren’t there interacted with the receiver mechanism, propagating through layered nano-light-emitting-diode projectors to generate a three dimensional image.
A tune distinct to the originator of the message chimed from the nano-manufactured receiver. It was the First Movement of Genghis Juan Feinstein’s folk-rock Hindustani opera, which, William knew, meant the message had to be from Roberto Sigma, the latest in a string of complicated and untrustworthy clone/cyborg hybrids who nonetheless followed their own indecipherable code of honor. William moved his palm over a light sensitive but robust section of his desk to command his virtual work-station to pause in its operations. Now as the stacked image displays created a perfect visual representation of Roberto Sigma, William saw that the enigmatic posthuman seemed happy about something.
“I assume,” Roberto Sigma began in the Libyan-Croatian accent he had acquired from his last neural-upgrade, “that you are aware of recent developments in micro-cryogenics.”
William nodded, his own implants from his days as a special forces commando during the Betelgeuse incursion activating automatically at the sight of his sometime friend/sometime enemy. “As you know, Roberto, cryogenics hasn’t yet worked to expectations, especially since several promising lines of research were lost when the singularity crashed.”
“Ancient history, William! That is so five nanoseconds ago. I know of a means to demonstrate how well the new process works. It originated in Asia. Interested in meeting me to investigate it?”
William hesitated, his implants jangling internal warnings. The last time he had followed Roberto Sigma it had been into an unending maze in cyberspace from which he had narrowly escaped. But if what Roberto was saying was true, he had to know. “I’ve been working on analyzing signals from the Eridani Probe. It’s been using the new quantum state transmitter to tunnel data through to us at amazing speed.”
“If the signals have propagated through quantum paths they will still have a probability of existence when you return.”
“You’re right. I’d forgotten about the addendums Jonquil made to the Hernandez postulates back in 2075,” William agreed. He gestured another command over the light sensitive control pad, ordering his workstation to shut down and watching as it swiftly cycled through functions and closed them before powering off automatically.
William stood, his lean muscles rippling as the commando implants amplified William’s own natural speed and strength. There weren’t a lot of former special forces commandos doing astrophysics research, so he tended to stand out during the virtual conferences. William walked across the floor tiled with panels from the Toltec/Mayan revival period, nano-circuits in the panels sensing his movement and sending commands to the door, which slid open silently on nano-lubricated rails as William approached.
He slipped cautiously into the hallway and saw Janice from a few pods down, the nanoparticles in her lip gloss making it glow a delicious ruby red. Janice spun to face him with all of the pantherish grace you’d expect from a first degree black belt, her blue eyes watching William speculatively. He tried not to stare back. At 23 years old, Janice was the most brilliant and the most beautiful quantum physics researcher in the entire world. What was left of the world after the singularity crash, that is.
Janice crossed her arms, drawing William’s gaze to the magnificent breasts which led her hetero-male colleagues to speak admiringly of the amplitude of Janice’s wave functions. “You’re in a rush. Going on some important mission?” Janice purred.
“You might say there’s a high probability of that,” William replied. “I need to acquire some samples of a new cryogenic process.”
Janice’s gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Are you talking about the Renz/Injira process? I understand that freezes organic matter in crystalline matrices that preserve cell structure. When it’s returned to normative temperature its composition is perfectly preserved.”
“That’s what they say. I need to find out if it’s true, and there’s a certain item of Asian origin which will give me the answer.” William hesitated, feeling a strong attraction to Janice that had nothing to do with the gluons holding her quarks into such an attractive package. She had once told him that they would never occupy the same space. Did her exclusion principle still apply to him? “Would you like to come along?”
Janice’s eyes glowed a little brighter as her nano-vision enhancement implants reacted to her excitement. She reached into one pocket and checked the charge on the twenty-gauss energy pistol she carried everywhere. “Sure. I’d calculated there was a high probability of deflection in my plans for today. It looks like I was right.”
#
The agent: Much better! Very SciFi. But I did notice that the story doesn’t seem to flow as well as it used to. Maybe you can fix that by using some of the real cutting-edge concepts. You know, quantum foam and dark energy and stuff. And try to make the characters a little more exotic. You know. Weird. More science-fictiony. Give it a shot and see if you can clean the story up a bit.
#
The re-revised story begins: Wilyam sensed the arrival of a message from his old rival and comrade Robertyne, who had existed in an indeterminate state since an accident while researching applications in the mysterious world of the quantum foam, where literally anything was possible. Waving a hand to freeze his work in mid-motion above his desk, Wilyam waved again to bring up the message display.
Particle functions coalesced into a functional framework emitting radiation on visual frequencies. The familiar features of Robertyne appeared as if he/she were actually looking at him through a window, though Wilyam suspected that Robertyne had actually ceased to exist some time before and he was really speaking directly to the inexplicable presence that seemed to animate the quantum foam. The image of Robertyne displayed a very human smile, though even when Robertyne had been unquestionably posthuman he/she had never been easy to understand or to trust. “Have you heard the ripples in the foam, Wilyam? Organic matter from the macro-place you call Asia now exists in a frozen state without flaw.”
Wilyam frowned as the implant linking him to the bare edges of the foam glittered with possible outcomes. He saw himself in a million different mirrors, each one reacting slightly differently to Robertyne’s proposal. “As you know, Robertyne, nothing actually exists, so it isn’t possible to preserve something that doesn’t exist. Previous attempts have produced probability chains that wander off into reduced states of replication quality.”
“There’s something new/old/past/present/future in this perception reference, Wilyam. It represents a low probability outcome of extreme accuracy.”
It sounded tempting to the millions of different Wilyams staring at him from the could-be’s dancing around the implant. “I’m busy analyzing signals from the Eridani probe. We’re not sure if they’re from our probe or if signals are tunneling from an alternate probe in another reality.”
“Then split your probabilities and attend to both and neither. I am everywhere and nowhere, but will center a probability node below here.”
“Okay.” Wilyam focused on the implant, drawing on the strange properties of the quantum foam to create infinite possibilities. He waved a hand to shut down his work and stood up/remained sitting and continued working.
The door’s probability state cycled as one Wilya
m approached, going to zero for an instant as that Wilyam walked through.
In the endless hallway beyond, Jandyce from a few stationary states down floated with her eyes closed. She opened them, her eyes glowing blue from the tap implanted in her brain which connected Jandyce directly to the dark energy which filled the universe. Wilyam tried not to stare, knowing Jandyce was tied into cosmic currents none of his probabilities could hope to grasp.
She crossed her arms, drawing Wilyam’s observations to the two symmetrical anomalies superpositioned on her chest, both far exceeding functional limits in a way that excited his ground state and also provided proof that dark energy could overcome the pull of gravity. “You’re in a rush. Going on some important mission?” Jandyce hadn’t spoken, but her voice echoed in his head.
“The foam has found something new. A way to preserve matter in an hitherto unknown way. There’s a sample from the human-reality matrix of Asia.” Wilyam hesitated as his millions of selves around the quantum foam link swirled in every possible action-outcome sequence. Jandyce and he usually demonstrated weak interaction. When he had once asked her about the possibility of mutual reinforcement, she had informed him that the likelihood of direct reactions between quantum foam and dark energy was infinitesimally small and shown him the Feynman diagram that proved it. But he had long hoped for a probability sequence that could result in entanglement with her. Perhaps, somehow, their wave/particle dualities could constructively interfere in a way that would generate mutually beneficial patterns. “Would you like to come along?”
Jandyce’s eyes glowed brighter as the dark energy flowed. Matter swirled as she reached beside her and plucked a patch of darkness from nothing, examining it closely. “The cat lives. I will go, maintaining the proper balance of forces and perceptions.”
#
The agent: Great! This I can sell. It’s pure SciFi. Nobody could understand what’s happening or why these, uh, people are doing whatever it is they’re doing. Tell you what, though, it’s still a little rough. I mean, how do you explain what’s going on? Readers want to know how this stuff works. So how about you polish it a little, provide some explanations, and give me one more look, okay? Oh, and put the sex back in. You didn’t take it out? Well, then, make the sex understandable again. Make the sex so anybody can understand it. Heck, make the whole thing so anybody can understand it.
#
The re-re-revised story begins: The great wizard Wil sensed a message from his companion and challenger the Baron of Basi. He waved one palm and the magical mirror on a nearby wall glowed, showing the image of the Baron, who gave Wil a searching look. “Have you heard? From far in the east, that which we have long sought can now be ours. It lies frozen.”
“Frozen?” The Wizard Wil gestured again and the fires blazing beneath his cauldron sank to a low glow. “As you know, Baron of Basi, nothing once living survives well being encased in ice.”
“The Grand Council has found a way, I tell you! A way we must investigate before the Bane of Dargoth does! That which we desire lies frozen in a state of perfection. Come down from your tower and we shall seek it together.”
“A quest?” The Wizard Wil turned a doubtful look on his cauldron. “I have been seeking to interpret certain messages from the stars.”
“Surely a wizard of your powers can deal with two tasks at once.”
“There is a way,” the Wizard Wil agreed. Calling up the proper spell in his mind, Wil summoned an elemental assistant and ordered it to continue his work. He walked toward the door, the earth spirit bound to it seeing his approach and opening the portal, then closing it behind him.
Outside stood the Sorceress Jainere, who sometimes appeared in the south tower of Wil’s fortress. Jainere, her eyes glowing with the fires of the powers that lay beneath the world humans knew, sought wisdom in places few dared venture. Now Wil tried not to stare at the beauty she barely concealed behind a few filmy garments, her breasts glowing with a magic older than time that offered the promise of pleasures no man could withstand. The sorceress Jainere crossed her arms under those breasts, smiling enticingly as she saw the reaction Wil could not hide. “You’re in a rush. Going on some important mission?” she inquired in a voice that rang like the tiny bells the dancers of Dasiree wore.
“We seek that which was frozen and can be rendered perfect again once thawed,” Wil spoke haltingly despite his efforts to resist the spell of Jainere. “It comes from the lands far to the East, where priests and priestesses with skins the hue of the sun have long guarded it.” He had desired Jainere for many lives of normal men, but the unpredictable sorceress had always scorned him, declaring that no sorceress could live by the rules of right and wrong which Wil followed. Perhaps if she joined the quest Jainere would finally learn enough about him to desire uniting their powers and their lives. “Do you want to come along?”
Jainere reached down to the slim, bejeweled girdle which hung on her hips in a way that made men’s minds go astray, drawing forth the enchanted mirror in which she viewed images of what might be. “Your possible futures are of interest. I will accompany you. It might be amusing.”
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The agent: Now that’s more like it. Fantasy! There’s a big market for that now. It’s a lot easier for readers to understand than SciFi and people seem to be able to relate better to the characters.
I wonder why they don’t want to read science fiction as much these days?
Author's Note on Do No Harm
This story had a simple premise. If spaceships (or anything else) is built with a capacity to detect damage and self-repair, you are essentially giving it an immune system. That is a good thing, as a rule, but immune systems don’t always work as they’re supposed to. In fact, they often go off kilter. The ship that can repair itself might find itself suffering a form of auto-immune disease. When that happens, what kind of specialist is going to figure out what is wrong and how to fix it?
Do No Harm
“Sandra’s acting weird, the geeks can’t figure out why, and the boss is spinning like a pulsar.”
Kevlin pulled his attention out from the immersive medical simulation long enough to give Yasmina a questioning look. “I thought Sandra was supposed to leave this morning.”
“Right. She won’t go. Come on. The director’s called an all principals meeting.”
“I’m a doctor,” Kevlin objected. “I’m supposed to keep the people working for the corporation on this station healthy. Why do I care about Sandra’s problems?”
Yasmina smiled back at him in a mocking way. “I’m a doctor, too. If I have to go, so do you.”
“They need you to analyze the project director’s mind just in case he gets really dangerous this time,” Kevlin suggested. “I’m just a simple country doctor with a low-gravity, space illness specialty.”
“Sure. Then you’ll come in handy if the director bursts a vein while he’s yelling at everyone.” Yasmina beckoned. “Come on.”
Grumbling just loud enough for her to hear, Kevlin paused the sim and followed her down the hallway. “I could always monitor the director’s health from my office,” he suggested.
“Nice try. Didn’t your teachers at med school ever tell you not to try to con a shrink?”
Sandra was still at loading dock four alpha. Yasmina led the way onboard the ship, then along a passageway that ended in Sandra’s control room. The limited area was already full of exasperated engineers of various types and persuasions, some looking dejected, some angry and some staring into space as they tried to think. “Why can’t we do a virtual meeting?” one complained as Kevlin and Yasmina wedged their way in.
Another engineer answered in an accusing voice. “Because the director found out you guys had been hacking the meeting code so you could have avatars sitting in for you while you did other stuff. Now we all have to crowd in here in person so he can be sure we’re all actually getting yelled at.”
“People have been hacking virtual meeting code since the stone age,�
� the first engineer protested, then hastily stopped speaking as a short man with a lofty attitude and an ugly frown strode in, the crowd somehow contracting away from him so he had free room.
“Report,” the director stated, glowering at the chief designer.
The chief designer, who had been arguing with Sandra’s captain, made a helpless gesture. “Sandra won’t work. Something’s shorting out her central control functions.”
The director’s glower deepened. “The Spaceship Autonomous Network Developmental Research Application is the most expensive project in the history of this company. I expect more from you than vague reports that it just doesn’t work! Are you saying the control network isn’t receiving the commands?”
“No,” the chief designer responded in a tight voice. “I’m saying that the control network isn’t responding to external signals. It’s in some kind of weird loop, with only a few apparently random signals going out to minor sub-systems. We give a command and nothing happens.”
“Nothing happens? Something has to happen! If nothing is happening that means something is happening!”
Kevlin gave a glance at Yasmina, who was watching the director with a fascinated expression. He just knew she would love to get the director into a controlled environment so she could analyze his mental processes.
One of the other engineers tapped the air in front of him, activating a virtual display. “This is what Sandra’s central processing activity is like.”
Yasmina looked suddenly startled as an image appeared overhead. “That looks like an EEG of an epileptic seizure.”
Eyes swung to focus on the doctor. “An epileptic seizure?” the director asked in a deceptively mild voice.
Though it was obvious she regretted speaking, Kevlin wasn’t surprised that Yasmina refused to back down. “Yes,” she insisted. “That’s what that looks like. If I saw that representation of signal activity in a human, I’d say it was a seizure.”
“This is a ship,” the designer protested.
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