Clearinghouse, requesting (or perhaps "demanding" would have been a better word) an interview with the Lord Administrator of the Impossible Possible World.
"Put it through," said the Lord Pilot, now sitting in Akon's chair as the figurehead anointed by the Kiritsugu.
" Aliens? " the President demanded, and then her eye caught the Pilot's uniform. " You're not an Administrator -"
"Our Lord Administrator is under sedation," said the Kiritsugu beside; he was wearing his Confessor's hood again, to save on explanations. "He placed himself under more stress than any of us -"
The President made an abrupt cutting gesture. "Explain this - contract. And if this is a market manipulation scheme, I'll see you all tickled until the last sun grows cold!"
"We followed the starline that showed the anomalous behavior," the Lord Pilot said, "and found that a nova had just occurred in the originating system. In other words, my Lady President, it was a direct effect of the nova and thus occurred on all starlines leading out of that system. We've never found aliens before now - but that's reflective of the probability of any single system we explore having been colonized. There might even be a starline leading out of this system that leads to an alien domain - but we have no way of knowing which one, and opening a new starline is expensive. The nova acted as a common rendezvous signal, my Lady President. It reflects the probability, not that we and the aliens encounter each other by direct exploration, but the probability that we have at least one neighboring world in common."
The President was pale. "And the aliens are hostile."
The Lord Pilot involuntarily looked to the Kiritsugu.
"Our values are incompatible," said the Kiritsugu.
"Yes, that's one way of putting it," said the Lord Pilot. "And unfortunately, my Lady President, their technology is considerably in advance of ours."
"Lord... Pilot," the President said, "are you certain that the aliens intend to wipe out the human species?"
The Lord Pilot gave a very thin, very flat smile. "Incompatible values, my Lady President. They're quite skilled with biotechnology. Let's leave it at that."
Sweat was running down the President's forehead. "And why did they let you go, then?"
"We arranged for them to be told a plausible lie," the Lord Pilot said simply. "One of the reasons they're more advanced than us is that they're not very good at deception."
"None of this," the President said, and now her voice was trembling, "none of this explains why the starline between Huygens and Earth will become impassable. Surely, if what you say is true, the aliens will pour through our world, and into Earth, and into the human starline network. Why do you think that this one starline will luckily shut down?"
The Lord Pilot drew a breath. It was good form to tell the exact truth when you had something to hide.
"My Lady President, we encountered two alien species at the nova. The first species exchanged scientific information with us. It is the second species that we are running from. But, from the first species, we learned a fact which this ship can use to shut down the Earth starline. For obvious reasons, my Lady President, we do not intend to share this fact publicly. That portion of our final report will be encrypted to the Chair of the Interstellar Association for the Advancement of Science, and to no other key."
The President started laughing. It was wild, hysterical laughter that caused the Kiritsugu's hood to turn toward her. From the corner of the screen, a gloved hand entered the view; the hand of the President's own Confessor. "My lady..." came a soft female voice.
"Oh, very good," the President said. "Oh, marvelous. So it's your ship that's going to be responsible for this catastrophe. You admit that, eh? I'm amazed. You probably managed to avoid telling a single direct lie. You plan to blow up our star and kill fifteen billion people, and you're trying to stick to the literal truth."
The Lord Pilot slowly nodded. "When we compared the first aliens' scientific database to our own -"
"No, don't tell me. I was told it could be done by a single ship, but I'm not supposed to know how.
Astounding that an alien species could be so peaceful they don't even consider that a secret. I think I would like to meet these aliens. They sound much nicer than the other ones - why are you laughing?"
"My Lady President," the Lord Pilot said, getting a grip on himself, "forgive me, we've been through a lot. Excuse me for asking, but are you evacuating the planet or what?"
The President's gaze suddenly seemed sharp and piercing like the fire of stars. "It was set in motion instantly, of course. No comparable harm done, if you're wrong. But three hours and forty-one minutes is not enough time to evacuate ten percent of this planet's children. " The President's eyes darted at something out of sight. "With eight hours, we could call in ships from the Earth nexus and evacuate the whole planet."
"My lady," a soft voice came from behind the President, "it is the whole human species at stake. Not just the entire starline network beyond Earth, but the entire future of humanity. Any incrementally higher probability of the aliens arriving within that time -"
The President stood in a single fluid motion that overturned her chair, moving so fast that the viewpoint bobbed as it tried to focus on her and the shadow-hooded figure standing beside. "Are you telling me,"
she said, and her voice rose to a scream, "to shut up and multiply? "
"Yes."
The President turned back to the camera angle, and said simply, "No. You don't know the aliens are following that close behind you - do you? We don't even know if you can shut down the starline! No matter what your theory predicts, it's never been tested - right? What if you create a flare bright enough to roast our planet, but not explode the whole sun? Billions would die, for nothing! So if you do not promise me a minimum of - let's call it nine hours to finish evacuating this planet - then I will order your ship destroyed before it can act."
No one from the Impossible spoke.
The President's fist slammed her desk. "Do you understand me? Answer! Or in the name of Huygens, I will destroy your ship -"
Her Confessor caught her President's body, very gently supporting it as it collapsed.
Even the Lord Pilot was pale and silent. But that, at least, had been within law and tradition; no one could have called that thinking sane.
On the display, the Confessor bowed her hood. "I will inform the markets that the Lady President was driven unstable by your news," she said quietly, "and recommend to the government that they carry out the evacuation without asking further questions of your ship. Is there anything else you wish me to tell them?" Her hood turned slightly, toward the Kiritsugu. "Or tell me?"
There was a strange, quick pause, as the shadows from within the two hoods stared at each other.
Then: "No," replied the Kiritsugu. "I think it has all been said."
The Confessor's hood nodded. "Goodbye."
"There it goes," the Ship's Engineer said. "We have a complete, stable positive feedback loop."
On screen was the majesty that was the star Huygens, of the inhabited planet Huygens IV. Overlaid in false color was the recirculating loop of Alderson forces which the Impossible had steadily fed.
Fusion was now increasing in the star, as the Alderson forces encouraged nuclear barriers to break down; and the more fusions occurred, the more Alderson force was generated. Round and round it
went. All the work of the Impossible, the full frantic output of their stardrive, had only served to subtly steer the vast forces being generated; nudge a fraction into a circle rather than a line. But now -
Did the star brighten? It was only their imagination, they knew. Photons take centuries to exit a sun, under normal circumstances. The star's core was trying to expand, but it was expanding too slowly - all too slowly - to outrun the positive feedback that had begun.
"Multiplication factor one point oh five," the Engineer said. "It's climbing faster now, and the loop seems to be intact. I think we can conclude that this operation is
going to be... successful. One point two."
"Starline instability detected," the Lady Sensory said.
Ships were still disappearing in frantic waves on the starline toward Earth. Still connected to the Huygens civilization, up to the last moment, by tiny threads of Alderson force.
"Um, if anyone has anything they want to add to our final report," the Ship's Engineer said, "they've got around ten seconds."
"Tell the human species from me -" the Lord Pilot said.
"Five seconds."
The Lord Pilot shouted, fist held high and triumphant: " To live, and occasionally be unhappy! "
This concludes
the full and final report
of t
he I mpossible Possible World.
(8/8) Epilogue: Atonement
Fire came to Huygens.
The star erupted.
Stranded ships, filled with children doomed by a second's last delay, still milled around the former Earth transit point. Too many doomed ships, far too many doomed ships. They should have left a
minute early, just to be sure; but the temptation to load in that one last child must have been irresistable. To do the warm and fuzzy thing just this one time, instead of being cold and calculating.
You couldn't blame them, could you...?
Yes, actually, you could.
The Lady Sensory switched off the display. It was too painful.
On the Huygens market, the price of a certain contract spiked to 100%. They were all rich in
completely worthless assets for the next nine minutes, until the supernova blast front arrived.
"So," the Lord Pilot finally said. "What kind of asset retains its value in a market with nine minutes to live?"
"Booze for immediate delivery," the Master of Fandom said promptly. "That's what you call a -"
"Liquidity preference," the others chorused.
The Master laughed. "All right, that was too obvious. Well... chocolate, sex -"
"Not necessarily," said the Lord Pilot. "If you can use up the whole supply of chocolate at once, does demand outstrip supply? Same with sex - the value could actually drop if everyone's suddenly willing.
Not to mention: Nine minutes? "
"All right then, expert oral sex from experienced providers. And hard drugs with dangerous side effects; the demand would rise hugely relative to supply -"
"This is inane," the Ship's Engineer commented.
The Master of Fandom shrugged. "What do you say in the unrecorded last minutes of your life that is not inane?"
"It doesn't matter," said the Lady Sensory. Her face was strangely tranquil. "Nothing that we do now matters. We won't have to live with the consequences. No one will. All this time will be obliterated when the blast front hits. The role I've always played, the picture that I have of me... it doesn't matter.
There's... a peace... in not having to be Dalia Ancromein any more."
The others looked at her. Talk about killing the mood.
"Well," the Master of Fandom said, "since you raise the subject, I suppose it would be peaceful if not for the screaming terror."
"You don't have to feel the screaming terror," the Lady Sensory said. "That's just a picture you have in your head of how it should be. The role of someone facing imminent death. But I don't have to play any more roles. I don't have to feel screaming terror. I don't have to frantically pack in a few last moments of fun. There are no more obligations."
"Ah," the Master of Fandom said, "so I guess this is when we find out who we really are." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't seem to be anyone in particular. Oh well."
The Lady Sensory stood up, and walked across the room to where the Lord Pilot stood looking at the viewscreen.
"My Lord Pilot," the Lady Sensory said.
"Yes?" the Lord Pilot said. His face was expectant.
The Lady Sensory smiled. It was bizarre, but not frightening. "Do you know, my Lord Pilot, that I had often thought how wonderful it would be to kick you very hard in the testicles?"
"Um," the Lord Pilot said. His arms and legs suddenly tensed, preparing to block.
"But now that I could do it," the Lady Sensory said, "I find that I don't really want to. It seems... that I'm not as awful a person as I thought." She gave a brief sigh. "I wish that I had realized it earlier."
Pause.
The Lord Pilot's hand swiftly darted out and groped the Lady Sensory's breast. It was so unexpected that no one had time to react, least of all her. "Well, what do you know," the Pilot said, "I'm just as much of a pervert as I thought. My self-estimate was more accurate than yours, nyah nyah -"
The Lady Sensory kneed him in the groin, hard enough to drop him moaning to the floor, but not hard enough to require medical attention.
"Okay," the Master of Fandom said, "can we please not go down this road? I'd like to die with at least some dignity."
There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by a quiet "Ow ow ow ow..."
"Would you like to hear something amusing?" asked the Kiritsugu, who had once been a Confessor.
"If you're going to ask that question," said the Master of Fandom, "when the answer is obviously yes, thus wasting a few more seconds -"
"Back in the ancient days that none of you can imagine, when I was seventeen years old - which was underage even then - I stalked an underage girl through the streets, slashed her with a knife until she couldn't stand up, and then had sex with her before she died. It was probably even worse than you're imagining. And deep down, in my very core, I enjoyed every minute."
Silence.
"I don't think of it often, mind you. It's been a long time, and I've taken a lot of intelligence-enhancing drugs since then. But still - I was just thinking that maybe what I'm doing now finally makes up for that."
"Um," said the Ship's Engineer. "What we just did, in fact, was kill fifteen billion people."
"Yes," said the Kiritsugu, "that's the amusing part."
Silence.
"It seems to me," mused the Master of Fandom, "that I should feel a lot worse about that than I actually do."
"We're in shock," the Lady Sensory observed distantly. "It'll hit us in about half an hour, I expect."
"I think it's starting to hit me," the Ship's Engineer said. His face was twisted. "I - I was so worried I wouldn't be able to destroy my home planet, that I didn't get around to feeling unhappy about succeeding until now. It... hurts."
"I'm mostly just numb," the Lord Pilot said from the floor. "Well, except down there, unfortunately."
He slowly sat up, wincing. "But there was this absolute unalterable thing inside me, screaming so loud that it overrode everything. I never knew there was a place like that within me. There wasn't room for anything else until humanity was safe. And now my brain is worn out. So I'm just numb."
"Once upon a time," said the Kiritsugu, "there were people who dropped a U-235 fission bomb, on a place called Hiroshima. They killed perhaps seventy thousand people, and ended a war. And if the good and decent officer who pressed that button had needed to walk up to a man, a woman, a child, and slit their throats one at a time, he would have broken long before he killed seventy thousand people."
Someone made a choking noise, as if trying to cough out something that had suddenly lodged deep in their throat.
"But pressing a button is different," the Kiritsugu said. "You don't see the results, then. Stabbing someone with a knife has an impact on you. The first time, anyway. Shooting someone with a gun is easier. Being a few meters further away makes a surprising difference. Only needing to pull a trigger changes it a lot. As for pressing a button on a spaceship - that's the easiest of all. Then the part about
'sixteen billion' just gets flushed away. And more importantly - you think it was the right thing to do.
The noble, the moral, the honorable thing to do. For the safety of your tribe. You're proud of it -"
"Are you saying," the Lord Pilot said, "that it was not the right thing to
do?"
"No," the Kiritsugu said. "I'm saying that, right or wrong, the belief is all it takes."
"I see," said the Master of Fandom. "So you can kill billions of people without feeling much, so long as you do it by pressing a button, and you're sure it's the right thing to do. That's human nature." The Master of Fandom nodded. "What a valuable and important lesson. I shall remember it all the rest of my life."
"Why are you saying all these things?" the Lord Pilot asked the Kiritsugu.
The Kiritsugu shrugged. "When I have no reason left to do anything, I am someone who tells the truth."
"It's wrong," said the Ship's Engineer in a small, hoarse voice, "I know it's wrong, but - I keep wishing the supernova would hurry up and get here."
"There's no reason for you to hurt," said the Lady Sensory in a strange calm voice. "Just ask the Kiritsugu to stun you. You'll never wake up."
"...no."
"Why not?" asked the Lady Sensory, in a tone of purely abstract curiosity.
The Ship's Engineer clenched his hands into fists. "Because if hurting is that much of a crime, then the Superhappies are right." He looked at the Lady Sensory. "You're wrong, my lady. These moments are as real as every other moment of our lives. The supernova can't make them not exist." His voice lowered. "That's what my cortex says. My diencephalon wishes we'd been closer to the sun."
"It could be worse," observed the Lord Pilot. "You could not hurt."
"For myself," the Kiritsugu said quietly, "I had already visualized and accepted this, and then it was just a question of watching it play out." He sighed. "The most dangerous truth a Confessor knows is that the rules of society are just consensual hallucinations. Choosing to wake up from the dream means choosing to end your life. I knew that when I stunned Akon, even apart from the supernova."
"Okay, look," said the Master of Fandom, "call me a gloomy moomy, but does anyone have something uplifting to say?"
The Lord Pilot jerked a thumb at the expanding supernova blast front, a hundred seconds away. "What, about that? "
"Yeah," the Master of Fandom said. "I'd like to end my life on an up note."
"We saved the human species," offered the Lord Pilot. "Man, that's the sort of thing you could just repeat to yourself over and over and over again -"
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