The Reality Thief (Deplosion Book 1)

by Paul Anlee

  Stralasi was still confused and there were dozens of questions he wanted to ask. What Darak was telling him flew in the face of everything he knew to be true. Alum did provide for all. Even if He had hidden the role of these Constructor and Maintainer Cybrids within His Plan, Stralasi knew it had to be for a good reason. Alum works in mysterious ways.

  Darak had to be a powerful demon to oppose Almighty Alum, Stralasi surmised. To listen to him was to allow poisonous doubts to creep into his mind. No! My faith is strong! I will not permit these lies to weaken it. Alum is testing me, and I will prove worthy.

  The sphere carried the two travelers peacefully through the construction and repair activity. On all sides, as far as one could see, Cybrid tentacles flew in purposeful activity. No Securitors challenged their passage and none of the Cybrids seemed to pay them any attention. Their tour continued without interruption.

  Stralasi observed floaters, cooking appliances, entertainment and comm units, furniture, and specialized analysis and medical devices being built or fixed on adjacent benches in a buzz of disorganized activity that threatened to overwhelm him.

  “You’ve probably noticed that this place seems awfully large for such a small Founding colony,” Darak said, interrupting the monk’s thoughts.

  “I don’t really have anything to compare it to.”

  “True, but look around you. Wouldn’t you say that there are rather more things being built or repaired here than Alumston actually needs?”

  Stralasi took a closer look. He counted over a hundred visible workstations and estimated at least triple that number behind the visible support columns, so that would make for at least a thousand workbenches in this asteroid workshop alone, all busy.

  Of the workbenches before them, he estimated that maybe fifty percent held machinery he could identify; the rest were a mystery. “I count about twenty new floaters being constructed. That would seem to exceed Alumston’s immediate needs. To be honest, I don’t recognize half of the other devices being constructed. We only have fifty FixAlls in Alumston, and they’re rarely all in use at the same time.”

  Darak smiled approvingly. “So far, I’ve told you about the first two pillars of Alum’s economic system: the Cybrids, and his monopoly.

  “The third pillar is unrestricted, steady growth. Each newly colonized planet siphons off the excess human population from the rest of the Realm as it builds outward from the original Alumston. The expansion of human colonization never stops because Alum’s Plan requires it to spread endlessly. Once humanity left Earth—what you call Origin—it was no longer limited to the resources of a single solar system. Growth without limit makes for beautiful economics.

  “The fourth pillar of this brilliant system is that humanity is no longer limited to exploiting the resources of their own precious planets, not since Alum first established and expanded the Realm. Nor does it need to be concerned about the effect its industry might have on the planetary ecology.

  “With the help of a cooperative Constructor Cybrid population, humans have laid claim to the readily available resources of asteroid belts and Oort clouds in every system that has been colonized. The machines you don’t recognize are Mining Cybrids, system exploration drones, more Constructors, and even a few deep space explorer ship components for the next wave of colonization to come.”

  Stralasi was dazzled; it was too much to absorb at once. As an Alumit-educated Brother, he knew about Alum’s Purpose to spread humanity and, more importantly, to establish His Realm throughout all of space without end. He also knew that exploration was conducted by automated deep-space probes, though he’d thought that Alum Himself directed the mindless machines. After all, finding new inhabitable star systems was the work of thousands upon thousands, even millions, of years. Who but Alum could endure over such lengthy stretches of time?

  He had always assumed that the probes were constructed in the Home World system by the most advanced cities in Alum’s Realm and then starstepped to the Frontier to begin their journey outward. But he could see that, if local resources were available, it made sense to perform the construction right at the Frontier, itself.

  As their bubble of atmosphere, gravity, and warmth rounded a cluster of support columns near one edge of the chamber, Stralasi caught a glimpse of a tall, muscular figure with skin like flowing quicksilver and opalescent wings. He almost fainted; he hadn't resolved his residual fear from the recent battle on the planet’s surface.

  He was about to call Darak’s attention, when he noticed the Angel had no head or, rather, its head sat motionless on a nearby workbench. The extended tentacles of the adjacent Maintainer Cybrid reached through the open neck and into the Holy being’s body. The world swam unsteadily in front of Stralasi’s eyes.

  “And this, what you see before you,” said Darak, breaking the spell of the grotesquely inconceivable, “is the fifth pillar of Alum’s economy: Angels.”

  Stralasi could only stare, speechless and mesmerized, as the Maintainer worked on the Angel.

  Darak continued, “Even though space is large and empty, from time to time humanity has encountered other advanced intelligences. Some were friendly but most were hostile to Alum’s expansion plans. However, the armed might of a Wing of Angels backed by Alum’s supernatural powers has so far proven equal to the task of removing all opposition.”

  Stralasi turned to Darak. “The Aelu?”

  “Certainly the most obvious example,” Darak agreed.

  “Alum tried to bring them into the Realm.”

  “Oh, there were negotiations and even certain periods of peaceful co-existence between us for a while. Eventually, though, Alum found that the aliens could not be ruled as easily as humans and Cybrids. It was a short path from uncertainty to discomfort, to displeasure, to agitation, to confrontation and, finally, to war and annihilation. Over time, Alum came to prefer the predictable over the chaotic. Aliens have been so very chaotic, so unprepared to accept that Alum’s Word should be the only word.”

  “Are all the Angels like this? Simply…machines?”

  “There's nothing simple about them at all. But, yes, they are all non-biological constructs like Cybrids and Securitors.”

  “I can’t believe it!”

  “It is always preferable to believe the truth over a lie, no matter how powerful the authority who tells you,” responded Darak quietly.

  “But why would the Alumit deceive us in this way?” cried Stralasi.

  “Don’t worry, neither Alum nor his Alumit have acted in support of outright evil. They have designed and implemented a societal system that has endured for tens of millions of years. That system has brought peace to humans across hundreds of galaxies and eradicated any potentially destabilizing enemies. It would be almost perfect, if it weren’t so…perfect.”

  Stralasi pondered that for a while as their bubble passed by the Angel. Its attendant Maintainer entered another corridor. The Good Brother knew the life he enjoyed among the People was the best conceivable, though he resented being kept ignorant about how it all worked. He couldn’t see how this new insight, courtesy of Darak, would help him to be happier or better in any way. Quite the contrary.

  “If Alum’s Realm is so perfect, or so nearly perfect, why would you oppose Him?”

  The bubble stopped, and Darak turned to Brother Stralasi. “The universe is an imperfect place. It sprung from chaos and it brims with surprises. That is what makes it so wonderful, so alive. If you make it predictable, you destroy everything about it that is important. That wouldn’t be perfection; that would be hell.”

  He turned away, and suddenly they were somewhere else.

  32

  LARRY SAT IN THE EIGHTH ROW, one seat in from the center aisle. He rested his chin on his hands and stared dismally at the empty stage. The shooter was in Police custody. Ambulance attendants had strapped the wounded Darian to a stretcher and whisked him away, with Kathy and Greg glued to his side. Larry had tried to make his way over to them through the panicked c
rowd but it was impossible. They didn't even bother to look for me.

  He shouldn't have been surprised. Things had been tense between him and his lab mates since last month. It started with that big blowout they’d had over whether or not to expose themselves to Darian’s engineered virus. The following morning, they’d all shown up for work a little late, and something had changed between them. A coolness had settled over them.

  Adding to the irreconcilable moral and philosophical differences, they’d said things that could not be unsaid. They were only human, after all, and hurt feelings, a sense of betrayal, and burgeoning resentment was all it took to undermine the friendship they once valued.

  They maintained an awkward but professional working relationship, and they worked as hard as ever, but the light banter and easy comfort they’d once enjoyed with one another was gone.

  The past few weeks had been especially trying for all of them, with Larry constantly monitoring the other two scientists for subtle changes in their abilities or personalities.

  “Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

  The deep voice snapped Larry out of his reverie. A man in his mid-sixties, escorted down the auditorium stairs by three Secret Service types, was heading his way. They wore characteristic black suits, navy blue ties, and comm gear in their ears. Despite the hall being nearly empty, their eyes scanned the room continuously, presumably assessing the potential threat of hidden assassins.

  The man who had spoken seemed at peace, unconcerned about possible danger. His face reflected nothing more than kind concern for the worried scientist.

  “Reverend LaMontagne,” Larry recalled from Darian’s introduction to the audience. “Thank you. I hope so; it looked pretty serious.”

  “You are Dr. Rusalov, no?

  Surprised at being recognized, Larry nodded.

  “Why didn’t you accompany your mentor and friends to the hospital?”

  Larry frowned. “I couldn't get to them in time. Anyway, I’d just be in the way there. There’s nothing I can do to help.”

  “True,” said the Reverend. “And it doesn’t seem like Dr. Leigh is the kind to need moral support. Nevertheless, your colleagues seemed to feel that they should go with the ambulance.” The Reverend allowed several seconds for that to sink in. “Do I sense a little discord in the Leigh research group?” He smiled sympathetically, like a kindly father or grandfather might have done.

  Larry regarded the man, trying to decide whether he should say anything. If he confessed his doubts about Darian’s methods, it might open his friends and supervisor to unwelcome scrutiny, perhaps get the lab shut down, maybe even result in legal action. This man was from outside the group, outside the university. Heck, since secession, he was from outside the country.

  But the Reverend’s approach struck a chord. Larry desperately needed to talk with somebody. He was being squeezed out of the gang of lattice-imbued geniuses, and he could use a sympathetic ear. Reverend Alan LaMontagne was probably as sympathetic an ear as Larry was likely to find. If you can’t trust a man of God, who can you trust? Talking to the Reverend couldn’t do the group any harm, and the man might even offer some sage advice.

  “Things have been difficult these last few weeks, I guess,” admitted Larry. “The physics we’re working with has always been excruciatingly difficult to understand but lately we’ve also been dealing with a few, I don’t know, ethical issues. I’m just having a hard time sorting it all out, is all.”

  “Do you mind if I sit down?” Reverend LaMontagne gestured to the seat beside Larry.

  Larry didn’t object, and the Reverend gratefully took the empty place. “As a spiritual advisor, I’d like to think I might have some insight into moral issues but,” he chuckled, “I don’t normally expect to find many such issues in a Physics department.” He sighed, “Dr. Leigh does seem to have a propensity for pushing the boundaries, though, and not just academically.” He patted Larry’s arm consolingly. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

  “It’s hard to say. He always has an answer, and it always seems so reasonable, so well thought out, and so well supported by evidence.”

  “And yet?” LaMontagne encouraged, with a gentle tilt of his head.

  “And yet, I’m not convinced he’s actually right. Something just seems wrong, deeply wrong, about the direction we’re heading.”

  “Something wrong with the math?” The Reverend asked.

  Larry, struggling for words, missed the subtle attempt at humor entirely. “I wouldn’t know. Without a dendy lattice like Darian’s, the math is way beyond me. But that’s not really it. I mean, he’s just so smug in saying that a Creator couldn’t possibly exist. It seems to me like God would have to be so incomprehensible that such math would be as far above Darian, as his math is above me.”

  “Yes, I should think so. The arrogance of some scientists is truly amazing to regard.”

  “Do you think he might actually be…evil?” Larry struggled with the idea.

  “Darian? Hmm. I’m afraid even I can’t tell you that. Normally, I would think he’s simply misguided as to what science can and cannot prove. But Darian Leigh seems to enjoy rubbing our noses in his superior perspective in a most annoying way. ”

  “That’s for sure.” Larry’s bitterness added years to his face. “But if he can figure out the basis for natural laws then couldn’t he, potentially, learn to manipulate those laws? He'd have God-like powers. Wouldn't challenging God’s dominion over creation be evil by definition?”

  “Do you really think he might be able to do that?”

  “Well, as I said, it’s beyond my ability to figure that out. But he thinks he’ll be able to, and soon.”

  “I see.” LaMontagne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s assume that he’s right, that his research does lead to a new understanding of what makes the universe work, and that he’s able to modify the physical laws of nature, the laws given by God, in some manner. Does that mean there is no original Creator? No, it does not. In fact, it would rather seem to support the idea of an Intelligent Designer whose Word spoke the natural laws into existence in order to create our universe as it is.”

  “Well, there’s always the multiverse theory.”

  “The idea that all possible universes exist? Don’t look so surprised, Larry. I try to keep up with the arguments that disfavor the existence of Our Lord, as well. Know thy enemy, and all that. But even Darian doesn’t believe that any of those other universes are real. And the multiverse wouldn’t prove the Creator doesn’t exist, any more than a single universe proves that He does exist.”

  “Why not?”

  “The multiverse would just provide more ways and more possibilities for God to demonstrate His infinite love and wisdom. Nothing about the multiverse would answer why we are all here, why something rather than nothing exists, any more than a single universe does. No, I don’t believe that we’ll ever find an answer to why everything exists until we acknowledge the purpose of it all is simply to bring glory to its Creator.”

  Larry relaxed. “I agree. I believe, like Newton and Einstein, that there’s no purpose in trying to understand it all except to catch a glimpse into the mind of God. Knowledge for the purpose of raising man above God does not feel right to me.”

  The Reverend smiled and stood up, “Well, then. See? That wasn’t so hard to figure out, was it?”

  Larry hung his head. “That isn't all. There’s more.”

  The Reverend sat back down. “I wondered if there might be.” He waited patiently as Larry grappled with his conscience.

  “You know Darian’s story, don’t you?”

  “Doesn’t everyone? A fascinating tale of hubris, risky experimentation, and playing God.”

  “I mean, his mother’s story.”

  “So did I.”

  “Darian's mom was once quoted as saying, 'I don't play God; it's rather hard work.'”

  LaMontagne harrumphed his disapproval. “She would say that. Neverth
eless.”

  “Did you know that Darian’s strain of intelligence-enhancing dendy was never approved for use by the FDA?”

  “Or any other respectable agency, for that matter,” added the Reverend.

  “The thing is, he offered to…infect us, the rest of his team, with the same dendy virus. You know, so we could grow our own enhanced-IQ lattices and be better able to help his research.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the virus-containing capsule, showing it to LaMontagne. “It’s so small,” he whispered.

  The Reverend scowled, “When Our Good Lord created man, He did not intend for his handiwork to become a machine. This goes beyond eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is becoming the Tree, itself.”

  “I know,” Larry whispered. “The thing is, my two colleagues, Greg and Kathy, they took their pills. Enhanced dendy lattices are developing inside their brains as we speak.” He imagined the RNA strands invading their brain cells, forcing them to lay down silicene strands tipped with semiconductor sensors and activators where they met neural synapses. “I’ve already noticed a few changes in their performance; they pick up details faster than I can, faster than they did before.”

  LaMontagne rubbed his eyes, suddenly fatigued. “Thank you for telling me this,” he said. “I have no doubt that Dr. Leigh’s actions are illegal but, here in Pacifica, I’m afraid I have little authority beyond reporting his indiscretions.”

  “Do you think I should call the FDA or maybe the police?”

  The Reverend closed his eyes for a moment of prayerful contemplation. When he opened them again, they were cold and decisive. “No.” He leaned in close to Larry and continued in a conspiratorial hush, “If you are willing, it would help us, all of us, to have someone sympathetic to our viewpoint working closely with Dr. Leigh.”

  “I suppose I could report his activities to you.”

  “Would that endanger your position with the team?”