by Paul Anlee
His “job” provided the privacy and tranquility to continue his real work in Alternus. In addition to the few hundred million Cybrid presences cycling in and out of Alternus, several billion Partials inhabited the inworld permanently. And unlike those in other sims, these Partials were not mere servants or mindless backdrop. They were as close to fully self-conscious instantiations without crossing the line into legal beings as he’d ever seen.
Social standing was important in Alternus. His search for conspirators would be more effective if he were perceived as someone important. In addition to household staff, he hired a planetary Partial as a driver/bodyguard. A little additional muscle might come in useful.
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.
14
three frantic and terrifying months of intense investigation flew by and Kathy and Greg were no closer to discovering how to stop the Eat
er microverse from growing, let alone shutting it down completely.
The cheerful, delicate cherry blossoms heralding spring and the annual renewal of life in Vancouver had come and gone. The couple hardly noticed.
Death—for them and of all of humanity—was coming for Earth. If the calculations were correct, they might have twenty-some years, but it was as inevitable as the setting of the sun.
They supervised the construction of a gigantic isolation chamber around the small existing one. The Physics building had to be modified to make space for the new structure. Floors below and the roof above were opened up and the ground underneath excavated. Colleagues’ labs were relocated completely. Nothing they did would stop the Eater’s growth but it would give them a few decades before it broke out of its containment. Anything less meant doom in three years or fewer.
No one was happy about the expenditure, but President Sakira had rammed the project past all opposition. “For critical new research,” she explained to the public. “Millions in new funding will depend on this.” she said to. She offered the full story to the Board of Governors only in camera.
There was no hiding it; the dome of the new chamber rose ten meters above the roof of the building. It drew criticism, complaints, resentment, and speculation.
It also brought a further twenty-two years, seven months, fifteen days, and four-point-three hours, give or take thirty minutes before the Eater would reach its chamber walls, absorb them, and start growing in earnest. If allowed unrestricted, exponential growth, it likely would consume the entire planet in no more than two weeks. Fortunately, most living beings wouldn’t have to witness the end, since Earth’s atmosphere would be gone within a few days of the containment breach.
Kathy and Greg sat patiently outside the Prime Minister’s office in Olympia, Washington, emerald of the newly formed coastal nation of Pacifica.
Dr. Sakira paced back and forth in front of them. As President of Simon Fraser University, she was accustomed to being a key person in meetings, and was seldom kept waiting.
Kathy and Greg were accustomed to being nobodies. Greg was amused by Sakira’s irritating sense of self-importance. He never would have imagined that, one day, he’d be waiting for a meeting with the Prime Minister. He couldn’t imagine being impatient about it.
The political paroxysm that had rearranged the United States and Canada into several new countries had somehow resulted in the British-style parliamentary system being adopted along the entire West Coast. Decades of frustration with one stalemated Congress after another led Pacifica to turn its back on the idea of a republic and choose, instead, the longest-surviving democracy in the world as a template.
The Founding Fathers of the United States of America had intentionally chosen an inefficient and ineffective model for federal government. By the twenty-first century, nations were playing increasingly larger roles in global economics and trade; countries could no longer afford such an obstructive model.
The door to the office of Prime Minister Francine Hudson opened and her Chief of Staff emerged. She motioned to Dr. Sakira. “The Prime Minister will see you now.”
Kathy and Greg stood and smoothed their clothes. This is it—Greg sent by lattice message.
Let’s hope so—Kathy replied.
The Prime Minister and two men waited inside the utilitarian office. Greg recognized Dr. Lewis Schmidt, Minister of Science, Technology and Advanced Education. He needed a lattice query to identify Michael Oberg, the Minister of Defense.
The report we sent has clearly been effective in raising the appropriate level of panic—Greg sent. Kathy suppressed a smile.
The PM stood and came around from behind her desk. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she extended her hand. “Dr. Sakira. And this must be your team.”
“Yes, Madam Prime Minister. This is Dr. Katherine Liang and Dr. Garugamesh Mahajani, Kathy and Greg, from our Physics Department. They are the only remaining members of Darian Leigh’s project team, as far as we know. Dr. Leigh and Dr. Valeriy Rusalov are, most regrettably, still missing and presumed dead.”
The Prime Minister’s handshake was firm and cool. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” She turned to the two men, already seated. “I’ve asked Ministers Schmidt and Oberg to join us. This thing your people have cooked up probably falls more in Minister Schmidt’s purview, but it also presents a threat to National Security.”
Greg started to say, “We didn’t cook this…,” but Dr. Sakira spoke over him.
“I hope we are here to discuss solutions, not to allocate blame, Madam Prime Minister.”
The PM and Greg both glared at Sakira, but for different reasons.
As if she hadn’t heard, Prime Minister Hudson casually shifted her gaze to her Science Minister. “Dr. Schmidt tells me your people have created something called an Eater, Dr. Sakira. I can’t imagine the physics behind that but he assures me it is catastrophically dangerous. So tell me, what do we need to do to put this crisis to rest?”
Dr. Sakira glanced at Kathy, who looked at Greg. He volunteered nothing.
Dr. Sakira sighed. “Dr. Mahajani, could you please outline our plan for the Prime Minister and her Ministers?”
Greg shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not a lot anyone can do. Kathy and I are trying to understand this thing and find a way to collapse it. Failing that, the planet will be destroyed in a little over twenty-two and a half years.” He was surprised at how casually he was able to report on the planet’s imminent demise.
A snort escaped from Minister Oberg. “Madam Prime Minister,” he said. “You can’t expect us to take this nonsense seriously. How many global doomsayers have we all put up with over the past fifty years? If it’s not deadly epidemics, global warming, or the end of money, it’s something else. Twenty-two years! None of us will even be in these seats in twenty-two years. To respond to this supposed crisis would be political and economic suicide for you, and for the sovereignty of our young country. The vultures are always circling. They’re just waiting for an opportunity to swoop in, feast on our remains, and take over.”
The PM turned back to Dr. Sakira. “He’s right. How do we know this disaster is any different from the dozens of other projected disasters that never panned out?”
Kathy jumped in, “This is not some vague thing that might or might not happen. There is no complexity to it. The math is clear. In twenty-two years, seven months, and fifteen days, the Eater will contact the sides of its isolation chamber. Once it does, our atmosphere will be gone in a few days. Two weeks later, Earth will no longer exist. It won’t be polluted, or flooded, or too hot, or too cold. It will be gone. Plain and simple.”
“That gives you plenty of time to understand and remedy the situation, doesn’t it?” As past Vice-President of Research at Stanford University, Dr. Schmidt was used to dealing with excitable scientists caught up in the various disaster scenarios of the day.
“Believe me, we are desperately working on understanding,” replied Kathy. “If we can’t figure it out in time, the world ends. There will be no time to make a Plan B in five or ten years. There may not be enough time to execute Plan A, even now.”
“That’s right. The calculation is a best case scenario. If anything gets into the chamber, even air, it could be over sooner,” Greg chimed in to emphasize her point. “We’ve worked out a plan to evacuate as many people as possible from Earth over the next two decades. Even with a concerted global effort—which is sure to be a nightmare in itself—we’ll only be able to save a few million people. And that’s only if we’re able to get some new technologies up and running, and concentrate the planet’s entire global resources and manufacturing base on the problem.”
“Madam Prime Minister,” the Defense Minister jumped in, “such an effort will bankrupt the entire planet at a time when a new financial crisis is looming. If we take this on, we’ll destroy the country.”
“The country will be destroyed anyway, as soon as the Eater breaks free. We ar
e at Ground Zero!” Dr. Sakira’s voice was uncharacteristically shrill. She cleared her throat and addressed the PM in a more diplomatic but firm tone. “Madam Prime Minister, I don’t welcome this any more than you do. But you need to call together the other world leaders and figure out a plan, or the entire human race is doomed.”
“This is absurd!” said Oberg. “Lewis, please. Tell them.”
The Minister of Science slowly flipped through the pages of Greg and Kathy’s report. “Normally, I would agree with you Robert,” he said after some time. “But Drs. Liang and Mahajani were…gifted dendy lattices by Darian Leigh a while before he disappeared. I have no doubt their individual brain power now exceeds that of every scientist on the planet, possibly combined. They understand this Eater better than anyone in the world. If they say they may not be able to stop it, we need to listen to them.”
Kathy looked at the man gratefully. “Thank you. We do have a plan. We can move enough people to asteroid colonies so humanity will survive even if the planet doesn’t. If we do manage to stop the Eater, we can move them back.”
“If this is the result of humanity’s best efforts, I’m not certain we deserve to survive,” the PM said. She walked to the window. The room was silent while she stared out at the lush green hillsides and still waters of Capitol Lake. A flock of ducks was coming in for a landing on the lake.
She turned back to the expectant faces with grim determination. “Well, my Administration won’t be the one that condemns this planet to death by inaction. We will communicate this report to our allies, first, and convene a meeting of the G26 world leaders. We’ll see who’s willing to help.”
Nobody moved as they imagined how this news would go over around the world. The Prime Minister clapped her hands together loudly, startling everyone. “Let’s get started, people,” she said. “We have a world to save.”