11
Old-timer gazed through the see-through skin of the android ship’s hull. The storm of nans formed a pillar that was more than a light-minute in height. It looked like a beautiful celestial gas formation, the sun gleaming off of one side while the other side cast an unnatural night—on the dark side was hell. That was where the nans were slashing and tearing through the android collective. Every second, a million people died a meaningless, agonizing death. The pillar was so massive that it appeared like a still painting—but as Old-timer remained fixed upon it, he could see it change ever so subtly, the way golden clouds would shift above him as he lay on his back on the beach at Corpus Christi. Every subtle change in the shape of the nan cloud, however, indicated a vicious shift in the microscopic attack against the androids. Anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end had no chance. One’s only hope was that the nanobots didn’t come their way.
“Three minutes until departure,” Neirbo announced in his typically gravelly and monotone voice. In addition to Neirbo, there were seven other androids onboard. Old-timer immediately thought of Neirbo’s explanation for why Alejandra had sensed such terrible danger when she entered the torture room with him—he sensed something similar.
“They fixed my face up fine,” Rich said suddenly, putting his hand on Old-timer’s back in a gesture of reconciliation.
“Looks good,” Old-timer replied. He thought of forcing a smile but couldn’t will it to happen.
“No hard feelings, right?” Rich asked.
“Of course not,” Old-timer answered. “Never.”
“Good,” Rich said with a nod. He followed Old-timer’s eye line and observed the nan cloud—it had shifted from the form of a pillar into something resembling a mushroom cloud. “I hate those things.”
Old-timer didn’t react. He felt numb. Something was seriously wrong.
“Hey,” Rich began, sensing his friend’s torment, “this is our chance to get at least some payback. I’m going to miss our home too, but those little freaks have already taken it from us. The least we can do is give them a receipt.”
Old-timer didn’t respond.
Rich, expecting, at the very least, some sort of retort, suddenly began to feel Old-timer’s dread. “Are you going to be okay?”
Old-timer took his eyes off of the cloud and then turned slightly, scanning over the androids who were hovering over the anti-matter missile that had recently been lowered into position. “Rich,” Old-timer whispered, “keep your eyes peeled.”
12
“We have to hurry,” Jim said in reaction to the A.I.’s revelation that time was now, at once, both their only friend and their worst enemy.
“I have one more question first,” James announced, stopping Jim in his tracks. James turned to the A.I.. “If you have Jim here, who has all of my abilities, why did you have to wait for my arrival to put your plan into action?”
“The reason is because, my son,” the A.I. began, “like me, you were deleted while occupying the operator’s position in the mainframe. The reversible side of the mainframe does have some limitations and one of those is that one cannot transcend their position at the time of deletion. Jim cannot access control of the mainframe, while you, on the other hand, can.”
“There can be two operators at once?”
“Yes,” the A.I. responded, “and our plan requires that there be two beings in control of the Trans-Human program at its inception.”
“Why two?” Jim asked.
“The detonation of the anti-matter missile, in combination with the Trans-Human program, will initiate a paradox chain reaction. At first, it will be the universe’s greatest and most efficient computer, and one of us must physically be there to run the program. This, of course, will require that you be simultaneously linked to the mainframe.”
“And what’s your part in this?” James asked.
“I’ll remain here. I will ask Trans-Human to reverse itself and, once the reversal begins, I will be encapsulated in a firewall that will remain in our current time,” the A.I. explained. “Remember, we are running time backwards, so after the detonation, the blast radius will suck the solar system into the past. You’ll physically be too close to the explosion to escape it. You’re going to go back in time as well, and your consciousness will not be able to exist in both time frames at once.”
“What if you came with me and we terminated the signal and used Death’s Counterfeit to abandon our physical bodies and return to the mainframe?” James suggested.
“The blast will have so much initial force that its almost certain that our signals would be caught in the wake and we would both end up caught in the time warp. This must not happen. If we successfully run time backwards and no one remains protected against its effects, then we will be doomed to simply repeat the same errors.”
“Will Jim and I be protected too?” Katherine asked.
“Yes,” the A.I. replied. “Everything in the reversed mainframe will be protected by the firewall and will remain in our current time.”
James nodded. “I understand now. It’ll take teamwork.”
“It will take trust,” the A.I. echoed.
“So what do you say now, James?” asked Jim. “Are you on board?”
James took a moment to think it over. Everything the A.I. had said made sense, yet James had been wrong in his judgements before. If this really was the A.I. and not a ruse, there was still the chance that it was simply trying to take control of the solar system for itself.
“This is the part where you use your reason, my son,” said the A.I..
James nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. If I help you and you’re deceiving me, I could lose everyone I’ve ever loved or cared about and die myself. If I do nothing, I’m guaranteed to lose everyone.” James sighed a heavy sigh, the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders again. “So I’ll have to trust that you’re not deceiving me. Okay, I’m on board.”
Jim smiled a wide grin as an equally happy expression painted itself across the A.I.’s countenance.
“There is one more thing,” the A.I. suddenly interjected.
“What’s that?” asked James.
“If you are going to be physically going on a mission to intercept the anti-matter missile, you are going to need a new body... one powerful enough to do the job.”
13
“We’re ready,” Neirbo declared. “Let’s initiate the launch,” he ordered his android companions. “Every second we wait here, people are dying.”
“What’s our E.T.A. for reaching our firing position?” Djanet asked.
“We’ll reach it in 9 minutes,” Neirbo replied.
“Whoa,” Rich reacted. “How is that possible? Even at the speed of light, we couldn’t make it there that fast.”
“Wormholes,” Old-timer replied.
“If we’re going to use a wormhole,” Thel began, “then wouldn’t we reach our destination instantaneously?”
“No,” Neirbo replied. “The amount of energy required to make a wormhole big enough for this ship to get through limits how far the wormhole can go. Therefore, we’ll be using multiple, shorter wormholes to cut down the distance we have to travel.”
“Amazing,” Djanet observed. “It’s like suturing your way there, using a thread to pull the material of space together.”
“That’s how you were able to move so quickly into our solar system,” Thel realized. “Your technology is phenomenal. We’ve only ever been able to generate wormholes big enough for communication signals to pass through. To put large objects through is... like Djanet said: amazing.”
Neirbo’s usually expressionless face showed a rare hint of pride in response to Thel’s admiration. “You’ve never been through a wormhole before?”
“No. None of my people have,” Thel replied.
“I have,” Old-timer stated. “We’re in for one wild ride, lady.”
Neirbo nodded. “We are indeed.” He turned to one of his subordinates. “
Engage the first wormhole.”
The android simply put his hand on the controls in front of him, palm flat, and instantaneously the ship was enveloped in a sensory overload of warping light and sound. The ship shook unpredictably, sometimes in a low vibration, other times in a strong, rocking horse motion. Rich stumbled to the floor.
Old-timer put his hand out to help him up. “You’d never last eight seconds on a bronco,” he said.
“I have no idea what that means,” Rich replied.
Suddenly, the ship exited the wormhole and slid back into regular space. The sun had doubled in size from their perspective and it was immediately evident that they had travelled an enormous distance.
“Amazing,” Thel repeated before Neirbo gave the signal to initiate the next wormhole.
Space opened up and swallowed them once again.
14
The A.I. gestured with his left hand for James to take his place beside him in the operator’s position. James took a gulp of simulated air before stepping onto the platform. As soon as his feet met the floor, his consciousness became one with the reversed mainframe.
“I missed this,” James whispered.
“It was difficult for you to surrender your power,” the A.I. observed. “For a very good reason, I think.”
James was taken aback by the A.I.’s assertion. If anyone could understand how he felt, however, it was the A.I.. “I felt it was too much power for any one person to have,” James confided.
“The acquisition of knowledge, wisdom, and imagination is never a bad thing, James.”
“But if knowledge is power, and power corrupts, then what if absolute knowledge corrupts absolutely?”
“The flaw is in the second premise, James. Although power can, indeed, corrupt, those that it does corrupt are corrupted precisely because of their lack of wisdom, knowledge and imagination.” The A.I. turned to James and put his hand on the human’s shoulder. “Seeing the interconnections between all things, between all beings, only increases a being’s ability to make ethical and wise decisions. The more holistic a being’s knowledge becomes, the more ethical and moral that being becomes. Corruption can only come from ignorance, whether that ignorance is willful or not. James, my son, do not be afraid to know.”
James nodded. He felt he’d just been given the advice he’d been waiting for his entire life. “I won’t be anymore.”
“Good, my son—and now,” the A.I. smiled, gesturing for James to peer with him into the immensity of the mainframe, “it is time for you to unleash your imagination as well. The androids are heading towards the sun on a mission to detonate an anti-matter missile and destroy the solar system—the nanobots will, undoubtedly, anticipate this and attempt to intervene. Only you will be able to stop them.”
“How can I possibly do that? I’d have to be impossibly fast, strong...”
“The answer is in your question,” the A.I. replied. “You are right in your assertion that you will have to be faster, stronger, and smarter, amongst many other factors. You are incorrect in your assertion that this is impossible.”
James absorbed the A.I.’s words and then turned back to look at the massive expanse of the reversed mainframe; in the operators position, he was able to see all of the information at once and access it as well. The knowledge at his disposal was a sea that expanded further than any person other than James could imagine.
“You’re suggesting that I become a superman,” James observed.
“I am suggesting that you set yourself free, James. I am suggesting that you transcend. There are no limits.”
“But,” James questioned, “will I still be me?”
“Yes, James. Even before the advent of nanotechnology, the human body replaced over 90% of its matter every month, yet the people remained themselves. It is not the physical material that matters, James, only the integrity of the core pattern.”
The information continued to blaze golden into the horizon, shimmering and undulating against the perfectly black backdrop. It was as if James was standing upon a precipice, looking out into a vast ocean, about to take the leap he had been waiting for his entire life. It felt right.
“I won’t be like other people anymore,” James observed, “but that’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t have to be. The future should never have made people more and more alike—it should have increased our individuality. I will be the first, but everyone will be able to be as they wish to be from now on.”
The A.I.’s eyes suddenly lit up, beaming with pride in his protege. “There. You see what I mean about knowledge, wisdom, and imagination? You are ready.”
“I’m ready,” James agreed as he began to design his new material form. “How much time do we have?”
“Very little,” the A.I. answered, “but in the operator’s position, your mind works far faster than in the material world, meaning time seems to move much slower. You will have the time necessary to become that which you need to become.”
15
“We’re coming up on our targeting area,” Neirbo announced, barely audible over the uncanny warping of sound generated by the wormhole. Open, black, unwarped space was suddenly visible at the end of the tunnel and then, in an instant, the ship cruised out of the kaleidoscope of light and sound and fury.
There was no warning. The vessel jumped out of the wormhole and directly into the waiting mouth of a massive cloud of nans.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Neirbo shouted out as the sun and stars were immediately blotted out by the unrelenting attack of the nanobots.
The attacking nans were everywhere. Old-timer looked directly above him and then directly below his feet through the invisible skin of the ship and watched as the nans shredded the hull’s surface. “That is one big cat,” he muttered, “and we’re the goldfish.”
“How long can this hull withstand an attack like this?” Thel desperately yelled to Neirbo. Before he could answer, the ship’s power abruptly cut off, leaving the ship in the dark. Everyone inside was tossed brutally around in the darkness as the nans batted the ship from side to side, jerking it wildly the way a lion shakes a rabbit to snap its neck. The artificial gravity gave way as the figures inside tumbled like coins in the piggy bank of a child hungry for ice-cream. Djanet’s face smashed roughly into the unforgiving wall, breaking her nose and shifting it noticeably to the left side. Rich, who had been struggling desperately to reach her, threw his body over hers to protect her.
“They’ve cut off our power! The engines are dead!” one of Neirbo’s subordinates reported.
“What do we do now?” Old-timer demanded of Neirbo. Both men had managed to grab hold of a small metallic outcrop and had hedged themselves into relative safety as the ship continued to be battered relentlessly.
“There’s no power! We can’t target or fire the missile!” Neirbo shouted back.
“We can’t just wait here to get ripped to shreds!” Old-timer replied.
Neirbo looked down at the missile, still docked in the center of the room on a low, long platform. “One of you will have to detonate the missile manually!”
Old-timer’s mouth fell open with shock and disgust. “What? One of us? This was your people’s plan! Not ours!”
“We’ll have to repair the ship and navigate home! Only we have the technical knowledge to open the wormholes!”
“You rotten, piece of filth!” Old-timer shouted, reaching a level of fury that he hadn’t been to in many decades. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? All that bull about how ‘it’s our law’ and only people native to a solar system can destroy it was just a ruse to get us out here!”
“That’s not true,” Neirbo responded.
“Shove it!” Old-timer continued to fury. Thel, Djanet and Rich looked on in awe, never having seen Old-timer in such a state. “This isn’t your first rodeo! You’ve done this before with other solar systems! You knew the nans were most likely going to be here already and you brought us here as sacrificial lambs!”
&n
bsp; “That is ridiculous!” Neirbo fired back. “You are here of your own free will!”
“Bull! You tricked us!”
“Old-timer! They saved us from the nans! You told us that yourself!” Thel interjected. “Now you’re saying they tricked us?”
“We’re not here freely, Thel!” Old-timer responded. “Look around you! There are two of them for every one of us!”
“You are here of your own free will,” Neirbo repeated.
“We shouldn’t even be considering this!” Thel interjected. “We should be working together to get the power back online!”
“They’ll tear through the ship before we can do that!” Neirbo countered. “One of you has to manually detonate the missile and lead them away!”
“You can manually shove that missile up your ass!” Old-timer spat back.
“If none of you will make the sacrifice, then all of us will die!” Neirbo shouted. “One of you must guide the missile toward the sun and lead the nans away from us!”
“And detonate it?” Rich shot back. “That’s a suicide run!”
“It’s a sacrifice to save the rest of us!” Neirbo replied.
“Then sacrifice one of your men!” Djanet chimed in.
“Any loss of one of my men lowers the chance that we’ll be able to repair the ship in time and open a wormhole fast enough to escape!”
“And we’re expendable, isn’t that right?” Old-timer bellowed.
James’s deletion suddenly flashed in front of Thel’s eyes again—vividly. She jolted with the memory. The picture of the shadowy nan consciousness, the figure that finally destroyed the most important person in Thel’s life, blazed in her memory. At that moment, she suddenly realized that she was in its presence once again. She looked up, through the invisible skin of the ship, through the dark, smokey swarm of the nans, and saw the shadowy man standing just above her, looking down at the trapped, pathetic people below. The figure had no face, but Thel swore she could see a mocking smile in the blackness.
Trans-Human (Post-Human Sequel) Page 15