The Reality Thief (Deplosion Book 1)

by Paul Anlee

  The complexities of human technology and human society have outstripped mainstream humanity’s ability to grasp them. The world needs this technology, and it can’t wait for the bureaucracy to catch up to the science.

  Even among her colleagues, it was rare to find people who could step outside their own frighteningly narrow specialties. Add to that the ridiculous, lowbrow public discourse during the most recent Presidential election, and it was becoming painfully clear that a bold fix was needed. Urgently. If we don’t become smarter, we’ll destroy ourselves with our foolishness. DNNDs can facilitate that leap upward; I know they can.

  She knew the FDA was only acting on general public opinion. If I could just change the fear of self-replicating nanotech, things would go a lot faster. Sure, there are some legitimate issues, but it’s not as bad as people think. Self-replicating doesn’t mean out of control.

  Sharon walked the last block to her building slowly. Her stomach growled, loudly, diverting her attention and making her smile. Okay, my diet has been a little weird, even for someone who’s pregnant.

  From the first week after the injection, the DNNDs’ demand for certain elements had pushed odd appetites on her. The RNA encoded enzyme complexes enabled the nanodots to replicate themselves from available raw materials. The enzymes called for elements found in unusual places: clay, rare earths, and other minerals. The DNNDs extracted building materials from her blood. When she lacked the necessary elements, she experienced strange and irresistible cravings. She never questioned them; she always complied. The DNNDs are taking up all the silica and metals. My blood tests look good. Everything is going to be fine.

  Sharon stretched out her tired muscles and headed inside for a shower before going to the lab.

  She had a good team. They didn't need babysitting, and they demonstrated initiative. It hurt a little to admit that they sometimes got more done with her out of town than when she hung around directing them. She checked in with each member at least once a week in case there were any fires to put out but, mostly, she left them to their work.

  “Good morning, Mei,” she called out to the Admin Assistant as she passed her office next door to the lab. “Anyone trying to get a hold of me this morning?”

  “No, it’s all clear until your meeting at Neuro Nano this afternoon. I’ll text you if anything changes. Will you be reachable?”

  “Yep, right here,” she replied, patting her flexible communications wristband. “I’m going to spend the morning working on the DARPA proposal, but first I’ll check in with the minions,” she joked.

  “Morning, everyone!” she chirped on entering the lab. Her team comprised a talented, international, interdisciplinary mix. India, China, Canada, Russia, and Brazil were all represented in addition to her home country. They brought varied expertise, including computing, synthetic biology, material sciences, mathematics, and electronic engineering.

  “Morning, Sharon,” came the distracted replies. Looking around, she saw Amerjit, Rob, and Oliver—her two senior students and the postdoc—all engaged in ongoing experiments. Her four junior students were busy on their laptops. Reading or doing something useful, I hope. She stopped at Amerjit’s bench.

  “How are the mice doing this morning?”

  Ami replied with her normal succinct synopsis. “Progressing well. After seventeen months, Version 3.1 mice remain perfectly healthy, even though they’re getting old now. We continue to map their brain function using both the dendy network and fMRI. Version 3.2 subjects are now entering month ten and still exhibit no signs of adverse effects.”

  “Serotonin levels are okay?”

  “The dendies report that neurotransmitter levels all fall within normal ranges.”

  Sharon nodded. She hated their pet name for the DNNDs but couldn’t break them of it. She reluctantly accepted it as unavoidable.

  Ami continued, anticipating her supervisor’s next question. “I haven’t conducted secondary confirmation yet because the procedure is hard on the little guys. But if you think I should go ahead anyway, I’ll begin independent analysis to verify the initial readings.”

  “No, that’s okay. No need to subject them to brain microbiopsies unless there’s an indication something’s off. How did the CT scans turn out? Are the DNNDs still behaving themselves?”

  “Uh-huh. Everything is staying where it belongs.”

  Sharon’s hand drifted to her head of its own accord, acting on the subconscious association. Catching herself, she covered by smoothing back her hair. As far as her students knew, the mice were the first and only mammalian recipients of the self-replicating version of DNNDs. She intended to keep it that way for a while longer.

  “Okay. We’ll keep collecting data for another few months before going back to the FDA to approve testing in chimps.” Ami raised an eyebrow. Sharon sighed. “Yes, again."

  Turning her attention across the lab bench, she zeroed in on the intensely focused young man with a nose ring. "Rob, is there any sign of coordinated network activity in the 3.2s yet?”

  Rob looked up from his equipment, only now noticing Sharon’s arrival. He’d been attending to the EEG signals on his multi-channel oscilloscope, and comparing them to the digital pulses produced by the DNNDs. Although EEG waveforms were beyond the subject matter of his Waterloo electronics engineering degree, it was all just signal-processing to him. He hadn’t completed his PhD yet, but he was already adding important new chapters to the book on data processing in mammalian brains. He removed his ear buds and placed them on his bench.

  Even from across the lab, Sharon could make out the electronica music emanating from them. “You do know you’ll be deaf before you’re thirty, right?”

  “Huh? What was that?” Rob shouted. “I didn’t hear you.” He cracked a smile, “Just kidding. To answer your question, which by the way I heard perfectly well, there’s indication of small, local groups assembling but the network hasn’t kicked into overall coordination yet. The clusters are slightly bigger than last week, and infilling has come to a standstill.

  “I'm really psyched. I don’t think it’ll be long before we can talk to the whole lattice directly. You know, we could probably shorten the wait time in the next round if we started with more dendies.”

  Sharon already knew first-hand that the process would go faster with a higher dendy concentration. She knew this because the development of the dendy network forming inside her own head right now was the product of proportionately double the numbers they'd used in the mice, and it was progressing rapidly. But I can’t say so. I could risk losing the entire project. I can’t risk that happening; better to continue the ruse for now.

  “Yes, I was thinking the same thing, Rob. Let’s run a growth curve on a new generation of mice with different starting concentrations, and see if we can determine the optimal starting point. Ami, why don’t you set that up for next week?”

  Ami perked up with the prospect of something more appealing to do over the next few months. “Could we use the 3.2s?” She peered around the lab instruments and directed her question to Oliver, who’d been quietly working in the SynBio area of the lab while the others chatted.

  Sharon was getting used to putting on a convincing game face, “Yes, I think that might be a good idea. What do you think, Oliver? Are any of the new synthetases or replicases showing promise, or is 3.2 still the champ?”

  Oliver looked up from his microscope. “Additional mutations at Arginine 153 in the synthetase and Serine 506 in the carboxyl tail of the replicase have exceeded the performance of the previous stable 3.2 generation. However, neither of these mutations increased overall processivity by more than a few percent. It is therefore my estimation that Version 3.2 is sufficiently optimal and proven to be well-tolerated in vivo.”

  “Okay, then.” Sharon took a few seconds to process his answer. She still found it difficult to follow the molecular structure of proteins in her head the way Oliver did.

  “3.2 it is. Calculate a range of concentrations co
vering a one-thousand-fold difference around the current starting value, and we’ll see what works best in vivo.” She was pretty sure that Version 3.2 would turn out to be close to optimal.

  “I guess that wraps things up for now. I have to get back to work on the DARPA proposal before my afternoon meeting. Any questions before I head out?”

  The second-year student leading the new artificial intelligence efforts looked up from his laptop, “Could you ask Dr. Franti if his contacts at MetaCepta are going to let us use their lattice parallel traversal algorithm?”

  “Sure, thanks for the reminder.” Getting MetaCepta’s consent was near the top of her agenda. There was a good chance that their advanced pattern recognition code combined with Neuro Nano’s DNND technology might enable the instant learning she’d dreamed about. Between that and the CT and fMRI brain scans she was running on herself this afternoon, it was shaping up to be a potentially momentous day.

  3

  IN THE BEGINNING WAS YOV, the Eternal and Infinite. Yov was everything and everything was Yov. In the fullness of time and in His infinite wisdom, Yov created the universe, pulling the planets, moons, stars, comets, and galaxies from within Himself. On chosen planets, Yov created living entities to thrive in harmony, among them, the microbes, grasses, flowers, trees, insects, fishes, reptiles, birds, and mammals.

  Yov created Origin, and He created the People to have dominion over all life found there. The People were clever, and they wished to know more and more about the universe that Yov had made. They developed methods and schemes to help them understand Yov’s wisdom. They built servants and thinking machines to help them learn faster. Yov was pleased with how clever he had made the People.

  Among the People lived two particularly gifted individuals, Da’ar and Alum. Da’ar was very clever and, with the aid of his thinking machines, he strove to understand Yov’s Universe better than anyone before him. But he became arrogant, and soon desired to replace Yov’s divine wisdom with simple human knowledge.

  While Da’ar grew more powerful and smug in his science, Alum grew more humble, pious, and closer to Yov.

  One day, in his conceit and ambition, Da’ar rebelled against the rule of Yov. But Alum joined with Yov and together they banished Da’ar and his thinking machines from the world of the People.

  Then Yov said to Alum, “Da’ar’s hubris has offended me greatly, but you have served me well. I command you to take My People forth from this world and populate all the worlds with my best creations. To aid you in this undertaking, I will make a gift to you of My Powers so the People will know you lead in My Name. You are My Chosen One. Until you have completed this task, I will withdraw from the Universe and rest within my Eternity.”

  And Alum pledged, “I will lead Your People forth, my Lord, and they will take dominion over the Universe in Your Name. They will revere and worship You as I do, and will await Your Return.”

  With that, Alum took the People from Origin to Home World saying, “By seeking to unveil the deepest mysteries of Yov’s Creation and not being content simply to love Him, we have sinned against our Lord. And even though we have erred and caused offense, Yov has not abandoned us. Instead, He has commanded us to leave our Origin and to seed His Word throughout the Universe. We will rule all of Creation in His Name.”

  And the People saw what Alum said was true, and they praised Him and vowed to be true to The Task.

  From the Book of Alum

  THE STRANGER WALKED INTO TOWN from the mountains in the west. Although this might have appeared to be an unremarkable action, there were many things about it that were exceptional.

  First, because Alumston was the founding colony on the fifth planet of Gargus 718 in galaxy NGC4567 in the Virgo cluster, there was nothing in the west from which to walk.

  No roads led into the mountains. All the farms had been planted south of Alumston. Herds had been released to graze in young forests established to the north and east. Outside of the terraformed regions extending tens of kilometers beyond the town borders, the rest of Gargus 718.5 could be described, at best, as being “not actively hostile” to terra-standard life. The mountains were not a region from which someone would normally walk.

  The second odd thing was that the stranger walked into town. Nobody arrived in Alumston except through the starstep, the transportation portal that was one of Alum’s great blessings, and nobody ever—ever—arrived unannounced. Upcoming Founder arrivals were posted on an InterLat list every Fourday. The work of founding a new planet for burgeoning humanity held enough surprises without the problem of uncontrolled immigration.

  The third odd thing, perhaps oddest of all, was that the man was a stranger. Every planet among the Worlds of The People had an Alumston, and there were no unknown persons in any of them. An Alumston never grew much beyond its intended hundred-thousand Founding souls, all linked through the InterLat. Forfeiting your lattice privacy and anonymity was a small price to pay in return for the blessing of being chosen to open a New World to the glory of Alum.

  Unlike workers on more developed planets, the Founders were required to work together closely, coordinating their knowledge and experience. Privacy was a conceit they could not afford if they wished to survive, let alone successfully complete their mission. Besides, being joined to one another in the InterLat brought you that much closer to the Mind of the Living God.

  So, for a completely unremarkable stranger to walk unannounced into an Alumston at the edge of the Realm, in the midst of another busy day on the new world, was actually quite remarkable.

  The stranger maintained a leisurely pace along Radial 270 deep into town, unheralded and unchallenged due to the early hour. He approached the first person he saw.

  Helen Bronding, as she did every morning, was strolling along the ten segs from her apartment near the outer ring to her Language Arts teaching job at the Children’s First School, which was conveniently situated next to the Alumita, Church of Alum.

  The stranger walked right up to her and said in perfectly fine Standard, “Good morning. Is there someplace I might procure a meal to break my fast? It has been a long time since I’ve eaten.” He smiled broadly, as though they were old friends.

  Helen sent a casual ID query but the middle-aged man standing before her was a blank on the InterLat. Invalid identity—her lattice replied. What? Despite the surprising response, she managed to extend basic civility, stammering a Standard greeting, “Alum’s peace…to you…good sir,” and in reply to his question, sent directions to the nearest restaurant.

  “Rose’s is one of the town’s finest restaurants, and it’s right there on…. Oh.” She stopped mid-sentence. Silly me. The man doesn’t have an InterLat connection; how is he going to receive directions? “I’m sorry. You go three radials ahead, turn anticircle at John’s Flyer Repair, and continue two rings…”

  “No need to apologize,” the stranger interrupted. “I have received your sending. Good day to you, Miss Bronding, and thank you.” He gave a polite bow and walked on, leaving her in a perplexed daze.

  The streets of Alumston, that is, the streets of any Alumston, were organized in tidy, concentric rings joined by evenly spaced radial spokes.

  Radial Zero extended from a carefully measured two hundred meter diameter Center Park and pointed precisely to planetary north. Centric was along the radials toward the center. Anticentric was away from the center. Clockwise from a radial was called procircle; the other direction, anticircle. Toward the outermost rings where the distance between radials grew inconvenient, additional sets of radials were inserted.

  Befuddled, Helen nodded and resumed her route. She was too stunned to raise a general query or alarm. He said he received my sending. And he knew my name! Without an InterLat connection, neither should have been possible.

  Helen continued walking along the radial that led to her school, trying to make sense of the brief encounter.

  “Good morning! Alum’s peace to you, Helen!” Brother Ontro nem Stralasi’s cheer
ful greeting from the main steps leading into the Alumita pulled Helen from her befuddled state.

  “Oh, yes. Good morning, Brother Stralasi,” she replied and continued along her route, her mind still playing over the exchange with the stranger.

  Helen and the Good Brother had been exchanging pleasantries every morning for the past three years. They never once parted ways in under five minutes, and not without sharing some tip or recipe for getting the best taste out of the town’s limited fare or, at least, some heartwarming schoolyard stories from the previous day.

  Brother Stralasi loved all of his People, but because children were especially precious to Alum, they were similarly precious to Brother Stralasi. He was always eager to hear charming anecdotes about them.

  “A moment, please, Helen,” he called after her, simultaneously sending an attention-getting InterLat signal. The teacher jerked to a halt, surprised by her own bad manners, and turned to face him.

  “I’m so sorry, Brother Stralasi,” she sputtered, “I was a little distracted.”

  “More than a little, I’d say.”

  Helen’s face grew warm. “I just had the strangest thing happen.”

  “I thought you looked a little preoccupied. Not what I’d expect on such a fine day. Please, do share,” he invited, though so-called invitations coming from any member of the Alumit were only a ritual of social convention.

  Relieved to unburden herself of the encounter with the stranger, Helen sent her recording of the conversation to the monk. “I don’t understand,” she added, verbally. “He looked perfectly normal but he had no InterLat presence. And yet he was somehow able to receive my sending. Where could he have come from?”

  Brother Stralasi’s brow puckered. Her lattice recording raised a number of questions. “I’ll take charge from here. Have a lovely day, my dear. Alum’s peace be upon you.” He turned abruptly, all business, and set out for Rose’s.

  Helen had never known the Good Brother to react that way over matters concerning the People. He’d always approached delicate issues and disputes with unfailing humor, reassurance, and wisdom, no doubt the result of decades of leading Founders on half a dozen new worlds. This cold determination of a Principal Local Authority looking out from the Brother’s normally jovial blue eyes was a new and disturbing development.