Convergence

by David M Henley

  He employed previously airdropped micro-servitors to make repairs to cabling, transmitters and sensors and slowly rebooted the automatic tracking that was the foundation of the Weave — people’s movements, recordings of their interactions with other people and objects. One small area after another, the Prime began to gather data on what was happening in the lost megapolis of West.

  Overall, the people simply seemed to take care of their own needs. Once Ryu pulled out his forces, the population settled down almost immediately, began to put out fires and fixed the machines that would repair their injuries. The Citizens did not talk to each other, or write notes, nor did they try to establish a new Weave or even a small subnetwork. Presumably they are psionically networked now?

  At this point, over the spread of the megapolis, Services had only five per cent average coverage, with a maximum density of fourteen per cent in some areas. Even so, they had enough of a sample to start finding patterns. Biometric readings, crowd flow, the actions they took. It wasn’t to the standard to which data weavers were accustomed, but it was clear nonetheless that there seemed to be five nuclei of convergence, each moving with seeming autonomy. As if three hundred thousand people here, and two hundred thousand somewhere else operated independently, but in cooperation.

  A word played across his mind. Something he had heard of, but never paid attention to before. Perhaps from an article, a study, or an opinion piece about biological systems. ‘Hyperorganism,’ he said to himself, scratching at the memory.

  He could recall nothing much about it, so he sent a connection request to Egon Shelley, which was immediately answered.

  ‘Prime. This is unscheduled. Has something happened?’

  ‘Yes, Doctor Shelley. Services has had to withdraw from West.’

  ‘Ah, yes. That. Are we next? Is that why you have called? Should we evacuate?’

  ‘No. No. It hasn’t come to that yet.’

  ‘Statistically it will though,’ Egon said.

  ‘There will be warning signs. But that is not why I have contacted you.’

  ‘How can I help you, Prime?’

  ‘I’m after a little education.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Go on.’

  ‘I wonder if you have heard of the term “hyperorganism”?’

  ‘Of course, of course. Not really my area, that’s more social theory, I believe. A branch of memetics trying to gain credibility for itself.’

  ‘Okay, but what exactly is it?’

  ‘If I understand it correctly, if you take an organism to be a single entity that acts in its own interests, and a superorganism to be multiple entities working in coordination for a common purpose, the extension is the theoretical hyperorganism, which would be multiple entities working under the control of a single entity, presumably for its own purposes.’

  ‘And does this theory go any further?’

  ‘Not really. Nothing has been observationally proven,’ Egon said. ‘It’s a curious idea though. Why?’

  ‘It was just something I thought about when watching surveillance of West, post-withdrawal.’

  ‘I see. Can you share it with us? We can look over it for you,’ Egon offered.

  The Prime thought for a moment and then assented. ‘Yes. That is fine. But Kronos is still your priority.’

  ‘Of course. We will draft more staff if we need. What exactly do you want us to look for?’

  ‘I want to know what a population looks like under psi control.’

  ‘Ah,’ Egon faltered, ‘and that is what we will find in the feeds? Is Pierre Jnr a part of this?’

  ‘Yes. There were multiple manifestations recorded.’

  ‘Well then …’ The doctor didn’t seem to know what else to say. It was a bit of a loosely defined request. ‘I will have a team assigned immediately. Was there anything else, Prime?’

  ‘Not unless you have something to report on Kronos.’

  ‘We might.’

  ‘Might?’

  ‘It might be nothing,’ Shelley said. ‘We will have a proposal ready for you within the hour.’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse,’ the Prime said. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘I can’t take credit. Please let me bring Geof into this meeting. If I may, Prime?’

  Pinter indicated approval and Geof’s avatar dissolved in to join Doctor Shelley’s. It saluted the Prime and looked around at the walls of his thought room. He let them look.

  ‘You can pry into that later, Ozenbach. What is it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. In short: we want to try something. But we need your permission.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘We have found a — I’m not sure how best to say it — a “design correlation” between the psionic relays and Kronos.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ozenbach, you’ll have to explain that one for me. It’s still an old brain, you know.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Upon close analysis we found the material composition of Kronos is almost a perfect match for the liquid inside the psionic relays.’

  ‘You don’t say.’ The Prime tapped his finger on his lips. ‘Wouldn’t there have been psis in Busan and Mexica? Why wouldn’t they have felt this psionic field you think is there?’

  ‘We don’t have an answer to that, only that potential connectivity is not the same as ability to connect,’ Doctor Shelley said. ‘We would like to test to see if … even though it seems a long shot, I think it would be silly not to test to see if Kronos also has psionic properties.’

  ‘How do you propose to do this?’

  ‘By placing a known telepath in the vicinity of a Kronos sample,’ Geof answered.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Pinter said. ‘Peter Lazarus.’

  ‘He has a record of cooperation.’

  ‘True …’ Peter Lazarus. Again. What is it with this man? Is he just a pawn of circumstance? La Gréle wanted to know what would happen and she influenced the Prime’s thinking in that direction. What if Kronos is psionic? What would that mean?

  ‘What containment strategies do you have?’

  ‘Each platform will be rigged to detonate and will be kept at a safe distance from coastal populations. The test subject and the samples will be isolated from each other. The moment we believe a psionic connection has been made, we will return Kronos to a hibernation state.’

  ‘And so we once again put our trust in Peter Lazarus?’ Pinter said.

  ‘We have no reason not to trust him,’ Geof answered.

  ‘Even though he is a telepath?’ Pinter arched his eyebrows. ‘Even though he has had contact with Pierre Jnr on multiple occasions?’

  ‘I don’t think he is the kind of man who would cause harm.’

  ‘I agree with you, but … Did you know he has been requesting to talk with you, Geof?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Geof said.

  ‘Yes. It has been his one request and he was most demanding at one time. Which concerns me.’

  ‘How so?’ Geof asked.

  ‘You only knew each other for a few weeks. I didn’t realise the two of you had formed such a close bond.’ Pinter left a gap for Geof to say something. ‘Do you know why he would need to talk to you?’

  ‘Nothing comes to mind.’

  ‘You yourself have shown a … level of concern for him in the past. It seems odd to me, the two of you trying to reconnect.’

  ‘I feel we are friends,’ Geof said.

  ‘I hope this exercise isn’t just an act of friendship, Ozenbach.’

  Geof spread his hands. ‘I admit I want the best for him, but we need to perform the experiment and he has a track record of cooperation. We couldn’t ask for more in a subject.’

  ‘I concur with Geof, Prime,’ Egon said. ‘I also think the friendship Geof has with Peter Lazarus could be an advantage. It will give us more leverage over the subject’s behaviour.’

  Pinter nodded again. ‘Okay then. Do your test,’ the Prime ordered. ‘But I’ll be watching and Services will oversee the operation.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’


  With cursory salutations the men broke the connection and the Prime stood alone again in his thought room. He pulled Peter Lazarus closer into his view.

  What is it about this man? How does he keep being drawn to the centre of events? Is he subject to the same whims of fate as the rest of us? Or is he somehow complicit in what is happening?

  Pinter pushed the screen backwards — what will be will be — and ordered up the global view to check on progress of the psionic incidences and pro-psi movements.

  War cannot be avoided unless the cause of the build-up is removed. The only way to avoid all-out war and collapse is to stop the tensions reaching critical mass. Normally, preventing nascent conflicts would be done through social engineering, but this hadn’t worked with the psi problem. Their population was too great and their affect too strong.

  There is no way for the psis to coexist with non-psis. The basis of the Will depends on free decision making … but what decisions are ever made freely? We make choices based on needs. Needs and wants. Is that what psionic control meant? The removal of one’s own wants? Can an individual, who at any moment may be controlled by a hyperorganism, still have wants and hopes? Or must it simply accept its fate? Is that really not so different at all?

  The last thought disturbed Gretel. Pinter thought about every decision he’d ever made and wondered if he really had had any choice. She felt his nihilism creeping into her, and it started another worry. Does Abe really not feel any wants? Has he always been like this or did I do this to him?

  But what could she do now? She was here. She was already in his mind. She may as well do what she came here to do.

  On the other side of the world Peter Lazarus heard the elevator chime open. A glowing line appeared in his overlay, pulsing anxiously for him to follow it. When he stepped into the lift, the doors closed and he was pushed up and let out on the landing pad where a squib with blacked-out windows waited for him.

  Seems I’m being let out of my cage, he thought as he obediently sat in the cockpit. It closed around him automatically and all was silent. He felt mild pressure shifts and his centre of gravity changed as he was flown somewhere.

  Back to the islands. From a cage to a prison.

  His time there felt longer ago than the few days it had been. He shuddered at the memories that he would sooner forget. Fragmentary moments that he sorted through over and over. That’s the worst thing about the mind. Once something goes in, it stays there forever. Unless it gets taken from you …

  He tried to think back as far as he could, but found that his oldest memory was now of standing on a cobbled street somewhere watching a black, luxury car creep closer. He couldn’t even remember the day he had turned himself in; though he must have done so … he had been free once, hadn’t he?

  His memory only went back to the moment of that first manifestation now. Watching the limousine approach, peering closer and closer, looking for that mysterious spark …

  It was the same in the cloning chamber. He could sense the spark, he knew something was there and when he reached for it … Those eyes. Those staring eyes. Pierre!

  And then the scream, like glass cutting through his ears. He no longer saw the incubators. He rolled on the ground and tried to cover his ears. And then it stopped. The pain stopped and his life was subdivided once again into what had come before and what had come after his contact with Pierre. Each encounter cut him to pieces, segmented him until he could only aimlessly and endlessly attempt to order his mind.

  Then came the robot. Peter Lazarus couldn’t get the faceless face of the android out of his mind. Featureless and new. After saving the squad from the attack, it positioned itself like a sentinel at the door until they were evacuated.

  The team didn’t know who had sent it. When they asked it questions, it didn’t answer anything more than that it had ‘come to help’. Pete didn’t know if it had thoughts or not. To him it was as silent as any other machine and had no mind for him to read into.

  After evac, Lazarus had been returned alone to the needle in Yantz. The other agent, Arthur Grimaldi, was taken to an isolated hospital and Gock was, presumably, released from duty and had returned to his family.

  Shortly after landing Pete noticed the needle was in full lockout. Weave access was completely cut off, even incoming, and nobody at Services responded to his pings. At first he hadn’t thought much of it. Just another punishment. They only talk to me when they have a use for me, he reasoned.

  He watched the lights of the city, sparse and uncoordinated traffic darting from place to place. He could just make out crowds of people gathering on the raised areas, the lily pads of Yantz. All he could do was sit and try to find the calm he had learnt on the islands, calling his god to appear.

  Pierre … I know you are there. Speak to me. Please. I must understand. I know there is a purpose behind what you are doing.

  When he felt nothing, he began pacing from end to end of the needle. He practised becoming the water, flooding the needle with his mind and reaching out into the city he could see, but couldn’t reach.

  Pete thought he understood now, how it must be for Pierre. If he was born like this, in a mindpool, a communion that changed with his desires, he would never have known individuality and what it meant. Are we wrong to think of Pierre Jnr as having a mind at all?

  He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in scattered contemplation when Geof suddenly appeared on the window screen of the squib.

  ‘Hello, Peter,’ he said. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’

  ‘Geof … is that really you?’ Pete leant closer.

  ‘Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to contact you earlier. I asked but …’

  ‘Permission was denied?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s okay. How are you?’ Pete asked.

  ‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Geof said. ‘What about you? How are you feeling? I heard what happened in STOC.’

  Pete nodded. ‘Then you know there are more of him?’

  ‘I have the reports,’ Geof said.

  ‘“He is here. He is there. He is everywhere.” Isn’t that what Sullivan said?’

  ‘Word for word,’ Geof answered.

  ‘What will the world do now?’ Pete asked. ‘With all the Pierre clones out there. How many do you think there are? How long do you think he has been doing this?’

  ‘I don’t know. I am not part of the hunt team now.’

  ‘Why not? What happened?’

  ‘I can’t speak about it, Pete.’

  ‘Okay.’ The psi nodded. ‘Do you know where Arthur is?’

  ‘He is recovering. But he hasn’t woken up.’

  ‘Oh,’ Pete sighed. ‘I don’t know why I keep trying to find him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Pierre Jnr. I keep trying to find him, expecting to be able to do something. Even though it is useless, I still try. Why?’

  ‘Is this why you wanted to speak to me?’

  ‘Hmm?’ Pete murmured.

  ‘You asked the Prime to let us communicate.’

  ‘I just wanted to know where you were. Or just that you were still there at all.’

  ‘I am,’ Geof answered. ‘You’re not alone, Pete.’

  Lazarus swivelled his head around the empty cockpit. ‘I’m very much alone, Geof.’

  The weaver said nothing.

  ‘Do you know where I’m being taken?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is this about, Geof?’ he asked. ‘Am I going back to the islands?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please don’t let them send me back there.’

  ‘You aren’t going to the islands. It’s okay.’

  ‘Where are you sending me then?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘What is it? Pierre Jnr? The revolution?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what it is. But it isn’t directly related to the psis.’

  Pete felt emotion simmer under
his eyes. ‘Why does it have to be like this? I have been cooperating.’

  ‘I know you have, Pete. These precautions are for scientific reasons. I hope you can understand that.’

  ‘I think I do,’ he spat. ‘This is it for me now. Staying where they put me and going where they tell me.’ Geof was silent. ‘That’s the only reason you’re contacting me now, isn’t it, my friend? You have found a use for me?’

  ‘Because I trust you, Pete. And I need your help.’

  ‘And what are you having me do?’

  ‘I can’t tell you any more. Will you cooperate?’

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  ‘Please, Pete. Just trust me. We’re on the same side.’

  Pete shook his head. ‘No. You’re a part of something I never can be. Can I?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He felt the squib land and waited for the door to open and reveal his destination, but nothing happened.

  ‘Geof?’

  ‘Just wait there, Pete.’

  ‘Are you letting me out?’

  ‘No. We don’t need you to leave the vehicle.’

  ‘So, I just sit here then?’

  ‘Yes. Just wait.’

  Pete waited. He felt the squib canting left and right as if resting on the ocean. He rocked back and forth and pictured water dancing under sunlight.

  ‘Can you feel anything?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘What am I supposed to feel?’

  ‘Telepathically. Are you picking anything up?’

  ‘Huh?’ Pete let his mind rove and found nothing. ‘No. Is there someone out there?’

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Geof said.

  Seconds or minutes passed.

  Then he did sense something.

  It wasn’t like a psionic communion, not exactly. He felt a similar integration of his mind, but he was alone here. Nor was it like the relay they had had him test before; that made the ocean of him bigger. This was like slipping through a keyhole into a far larger space. Or tripping in the dark and falling into a hole he couldn’t see the sides of. He sensed a vast emptiness that his mind could move through, though it was only black. Blackness everywhere.

  Pierre? he called silently. Is that you?