Exodus

by Alex Lamb

  ‘Let’s not forget that someone dropped into the Zone behind us would probably appear with a light-lag measured in hours,’ said Clath earnestly. ‘That gives us plenty of room to manoeuvre. And our thrusters are better than anything the Photes have for sub-light.’

  ‘Not all of them will have hit the bulk,’ said Ann. ‘The rest will be free to cut ahead and mop up our drones for their data.’

  ‘Won’t work,’ said Clath. ‘Our drones are primed to self-destruct before the Photes can do that. And there are other reasons to stay optimistic. I think we can do this.’

  She smiled at them with a warm confidence that made her long, oval face surprisingly attractive. In that moment, Mark thought she looked a little like Zoe.

  ‘I’ve been studying the Zone every minute since we got here,’ said Clath, ‘trying to figure it out, and I think I’ve found a clue about how we can escape.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Mark.

  ‘Well, you know our thrusters are designed for the Zone, right? They make use of the fact that curvon flow informs what people used to think were just random quantum events, like beta decay. The fact that those events are different in here lets us squeeze more power out of old fusion technology.’

  ‘And?’ said Mark.

  ‘Well, that means we can read the Zone’s flow by monitoring engine efficiency. And guess what? That galactic-convection-cell theory? It’s working – sort of. It turns out that the dead space in here isn’t like ordinary warp-wake. It’s not really depleted at all. Instead of being saturated with normal curvons, it’s full of something else.’

  ‘Wait, what?’ Mark was used to Zoe’s physics rambles, but this idea was way outside his area of expertise and he dearly wanted to wring some hope out of the moment. ‘What’s it full of, then?’

  Clath’s smile slid a little. ‘I don’t know what you’d call them. Non-normal? But that’s not the point.’

  ‘So are there curvons here or not?’ said Mark.

  Clath looked flustered. ‘Er … How much do you know about deadon theory?’

  ‘Deadons?’

  ‘You know, particles as networks? Space as emergent geometry?’

  ‘Never heard of it,’ said Mark.

  Clath pulled an uncomfortable expression. ‘Really? I’m pretty sure I sent you and Zoe some papers. No …? Anyway, the idea is that empty space is like ash. You have to imagine that everything is particles, even the gaps between things, but most of it is a kind of particle that doesn’t do anything. And those particles are locally connected via entanglement pairings. Or, to look at it the other way around, all particles are really just tangles in a Markopoulou Network. In that theory, curvons are like meta-particles – they’re like knots in the fabric of space. When we tap them, they either unpack or annihilate the surrounding deadons, depending on which way we tip them open.’

  ‘Sure, fine,’ said Mark. ‘That sounds more like normal warp physics. How does that help get us out?’

  ‘In the Zone, the curvons are … er … twisted. The flow has been geometrically altered. They can’t unpack. That’s not my theory, by the way. It’s been on the table for a while, but everything we’re seeing fits it.’

  ‘Great,’ said Mark. ‘But how-does-this-help?’

  Clath’s face tightened in chagrin and Mark immediately regretted his tone.

  ‘Go on, Clath,’ said Judj gently. ‘You’re doing great.’

  Mark regarded him in surprise. Clath shot Judj a grateful look and then paused to pick her words carefully.

  ‘We can read those … twistons,’ she said. ‘We can’t unpack them, but we can still push them into unstable states to look at their twistiness. And when we do that, I think it will tell us where the edge of the bulk is. Within a couple of days, we should be able to work out how big this bank is and steer towards the closest stretch of Flaw. My initial estimates suggest it’s not that bad. Getting through won’t be fast, but it’s better than our other options. We just have to press on and hope.’

  ‘That’s terrific,’ said Judj. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Hear hear,’ said Palla. ‘That’s fantastic, Clath. Nice work.’

  Clath beamed.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Mark awkwardly.

  ‘Palla asked me and Ann to work on Flaw analysis,’ said Ira. ‘We don’t have much, but I’ll send you everything we’ve found.’

  ‘Thank you. But I didn’t even get to the good bit yet,’ said Clath, her gaze darting nervously back to Mark’s face.

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Palla.

  ‘Well, that weird difference in twistiness comes from the Flaw. If I had to guess, I’d say the Flaw is made of twistons that have been artificially untwisted.’

  ‘Artificially?’ said Judj.

  Clath nodded. ‘Some external force must be keeping the Flaw open. It’s just too weird to be natural.’

  The others were silent for several long seconds.

  ‘So someone opened this door for us?’ said Judj. ‘They made the Flaw?’

  ‘That would be my guess,’ said Clath. ‘And it’s been getting wider for at least the last twenty years. I suspect it’s been widening since around the time the Utopia was established.’

  She smiled at Judj then, openly and affectionately, and Mark realised that the two of them had something romantic going on. While the rest of the crew had been glumly self-absorbed, Clath and Judj had quietly built a relationship like a couple of pedantic lovebirds. He felt a stab of jealousy.

  ‘Do you think it’s the Transcended?’ said Judj.

  She shrugged. ‘Who else could it be?’

  ‘They haven’t exactly helped much recently.’

  ‘Maybe this is all they can do,’ she offered. ‘They’re old. They might be far away. Maybe they can’t trigger stars in our part of space without killing us along with the Photes.’

  ‘The Photes believe the Transcended are old news,’ said Ira. ‘They think the lure star network is a remnant of a dead species.’

  ‘I know,’ said Clath. ‘But what if they’re just really slow operators? What if their strategies play out over lifetimes and this is the best they can offer?’

  Mark pondered her vision. Most people these days had written off the Transcended as malign or irrelevant. Either they’d lost control of this part of the galaxy to the Phote Founders or they were complicit in the killing, just like they’d masterminded the death of the Fecund. Despite all their claimed power, they’d done exactly nothing to rescue humanity from the Photurian menace.

  ‘Mark,’ said Palla. ‘Do you have an opinion about this? After all, you’ve studied this topic for years.’

  ‘I prefer not to speculate,’ said Mark.

  ‘Why not try anyway?’ said Palla tersely. Suddenly Palla, Judj and Clath were all watching him. He felt like he’d missed yet another social cue.

  ‘Because it’s just philosophy,’ he said defensively. ‘We don’t have enough data to trust the Transcended and meanwhile we have a job to do.’ In truth, he hated thinking about problems he couldn’t solve. They only made his mood worse.

  ‘So you really don’t care?’ said Palla.

  ‘I care plenty. It’s just that we can’t know the answer. We’ll have all the time we want for speculation after we get the hell out of here.’

  ‘And what if we can’t because an old species has forbidden it?’ she said.

  ‘In that case, I won’t have the option of feeling sad,’ Mark replied.

  ‘My, you’re quite the soldier, aren’t you?’ said Palla, sounding disappointed. ‘All rugged pragmatism and steely decisiveness. Thank goodness I have a thing for men in uniform, otherwise you’d be boring.’

  Clath and Judj laughed again.

  Mark glared at Palla and wondered whether she was clinically sane.

  ‘It’s a joke.’ She sighed. ‘These days, everyone is in uniform.’

  ‘I got it,’ he lied.

  ‘Oh, Mark,’ said Palla. ‘Here we are, dead in space, trying to have fun, and you’r
e still wound up tighter than the field on a fusion bottle. Everything’s a step on the way to some greater goal for you, isn’t it? You should be careful of that, you know.’

  Mark glanced around and wondered how he’d gone from commanding officer to target for mockery within a single meeting. He looked to Ira and Ann for support, but Ann was focused on the new threat data and Ira was focused on her.

  ‘Should I really be taking career advice from a nineteen-year-old?’ he said, folding his arms. It was a cheap shot and he knew it. He just couldn’t think of anything better.

  Palla looked pleased by the barb. ‘Why ever not? I’m your wise young SAO. Consider Sharp’s Ninth Maxim,’ she said wryly. ‘Accept all feedback. Chart your own course.’

  Mark exhaled. Flawed he might be, but he was still trying to lead a mission. He wasn’t there to be a punching bag for New Society humourists.

  ‘You know what I think?’ he said wearily. ‘You can take that whole propaganda slogan thing too seriously.’

  Palla blinked innocently. ‘What are you saying, Mark – that we should mistrust all aphorisms?’

  ‘Frankly, yes,’ said Mark.

  Clath and Judj laughed louder this time. Even Ira cracked a smile.

  ‘What?’ snapped Mark.

  ‘That’s another Sharp Maxim,’ said Ira. ‘Even I got that one. Relax, Mark,’ he added. ‘You’ve been away a lot, that’s all.’

  ‘Away fighting,’ said Mark. ‘Running missions. Trying to do my job.’

  Something about the Phote bursts appearing had relaxed the younger officers. Maybe because, in their terms, they’d already won. The real mission goal had been accomplished. The only person who actually cared about reaching Snakepit was him. Suddenly, he missed his wife more than ever.

  Another spatter of warp-light flared around the ship as a dozen more Phote scouts impacted the edge of the Flaw. These were off to one side of them, blocking more escape routes and making their prison walls a little tighter. The laughter stuttered out.

  6: DISCOVERY

  6.1: WILL

  Will had his first session with Moneko that same day. Before that, there was a long, private conversation between her and John during which he was left on a park bench, staring at the clouds building over the Mettaburg skyline. When it was over, she rejoined him with a polished smile and an outstretched hand. Will was reminded of some of the roboteer therapists he’d met during his IPSO days. On reflection, he decided that Moneko had probably modelled herself after one of them.

  ‘Let’s get brunch,’ she said.

  She led him to an eatery on a corner nearby that looked like something out of an Edward Hopper painting. Service was provided by identical Will-waitresses in white uniforms. Coffee came in chipped scarlet mugs. The food was decidedly better than Will’s meagre breakfast.

  Moneko watched him eat with a smile on her plum-coloured lips. He watched her in return and tried to find room in his head to parse her confident femininity. But for her features, she was so unlike him that he had no idea how to accommodate her existence.

  He didn’t have a problem with gender-switching. He’d had plenty of friends over the years who’d gone that route. What unsettled him was the notion that he’d made the change.

  ‘I have a speech for moments like this,’ she said. ‘Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘Go for it,’ said Will.

  ‘Yes, I’m you,’ she said. ‘Or at least, I started out that way. Yes, I like being female. Yes, I have sex. Yes, I enjoy being attractive. No, I’m not a distortion of you. I’m a development. You’d be best off thinking of me as a different person.’

  Will chewed and let her continue.

  ‘You usually want to know how that process happened. It’s something of a non-compute, I know, so I’ll try to explain. First, how long do you suppose it took for a planet of all Wills to start wishing there was some female company around – any female company?’

  ‘Not long,’ said Will.

  ‘Right, so we drew straws. Literally. Those of us who drew the short straws decided to work at it. We self-edited, slowly and carefully, punching up those things we liked about being female and suppressing our discomfort with the elements we didn’t. And the rest of the Wills treated us decently through that process, I’m glad to say. These days, it doesn’t feel like a short-straw option, and it hasn’t for a long time. I’m more comfortable in myself now than I’ve ever been, though it took years of self-modification before that was really, thoroughly true. But I’ve been happy ever since. And I’ve had lots and lots of sisters. It’s nice to be popular.

  ‘You also usually want to know how it feels different,’ she said with a knowing smile. ‘That’s inevitable. Well, it feels normal. You’re a roboteer. You remember playing female memories. It feels like that. Next, you tend to ask me about relationships. I have them. Though relationships here aren’t really about love. We still have too much in common for that, but we do pair off. I’ve paired with both male and female Wills and it’s been interesting and different each time. We generally stay in relationships while we’re learning and changing each other. When that stops, we go our own way.

  ‘You also ask about Rachel.’ A flicker of sadness passed over her brow. ‘The person no female Will can ever be, or wants to be. Do I still miss her? Hell, yes. Just as much as you do. The whole planet misses her, but frankly, we have a civilisation to maintain and she’s still dead.’

  ‘It all sounds very rational,’ said Will, unconvinced.

  ‘Differentiation is life,’ said Moneko. ‘We’re all hungry for it, so we help each other. If there is love here, it’s what happens when two threads try to build something meaningful together. The closest I’ve had is the work I’ve done with Glitches like you. I enjoy helping you, and I believe in what the Underground is doing. So be nice to me,’ she added. ‘Try to make it worth my while.’

  Will had the sense that she was testing his level of comfort with her. It could have been higher.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ he said.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Why do you believe?’

  She arched an eyebrow. ‘In the Underground? Because something changed in our world. We all felt it. Our confidence fled, and then you stared to appear. It’s a mystery why that happened and I wanted to solve it. The more I learned, the more curious I got. You’re a puzzle, Will. A worthwhile one, I think.’ She rested her chin on an elegant hand and peered at him like a scientist observing an experiment.

  ‘Good answer, I guess,’ he said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. ‘I have one other question,’ he offered.

  She waited.

  ‘Do you think I’ll ever get out of here?’

  Moneko shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You haven’t made it yet, but every time you come back, we learn a little more, and we make the world a slightly better place. Maybe you’re the one who gets away. But if you’re not, don’t you owe it to the next guy to make his job easier?’

  Will snorted. He hadn’t thought about it like that.

  ‘Fair point,’ he said.

  She stood as soon as he took his last bite.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You’re finished. Let’s go and get you ready.’

  She dropped a handful of scrip on the table and led him back to the Old Slam Bar where new clothes were waiting for him in the back room – a shirt, jacket and slacks in the local style.

  ‘This first run is just a chance for you to get your feet wet,’ she told him as he dressed. ‘You generally feel a lot better once you’re doing something. We’ll head straight back to the station and travel from there to one of our portal sites in soft-space.’

  ‘Portals to what?’ said Will as he buttoned the old-fashioned shirt.

  ‘The Underlayer. Your job will be to go down there and familiarise yourself with it. While keeping an eye out for Balance, of course.’

  ‘What kind of an environment are we talking about?’ said Will. He recalled some of the hallucinogenic
visions he’d experienced while trying to mesh with Snakepit the last time he’d been alive. They’d been hard for the human mind to hold. ‘Physical? Analytical? Just plain weird?’

  ‘There are a lot of disjointed memories from your past, apparently. I’ve never seen it, of course, but you’ve told me it’s like walking around in a dream.’

  ‘So how do I find my way about?’

  ‘Intuitively,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way. Other Glitches manage it, so I’m certain you will, too. Just aim yourself at the memories you think reflect the axioms you’re looking for.’

  Will thought back to the terrible moment when he found proof hiding at the heart of the world that the Transcended had built it – just before they caught and killed him. There’d been a join there, a piece of circuitry like a suntap, quantum-channelling information in from who knew where.

  ‘I have a pretty good idea of where your axioms come from,’ he said.

  ‘Have you?’ she said, giving him a long stare. ‘Well, I recommend that you take nothing for granted.’

  They rode a pair of the popular bone-coloured bicycles back down into town and parked them at a local drop-off point near a busy intersection.

  ‘Okay, this is where it gets dangerous,’ said Moneko. ‘Here’s my advice: stick close and stay quiet. Don’t wander. You’ll live longer.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Will.

  ‘Hold my hand,’ she told him as they approached the station. ‘Make it look like we’re a couple.’

  Will’s discomfort increased a little.

  There were Balance agents stationed at the corners of the building – black and orange giants with china faces swivelling this way and that.

  She took his arm and leaned in close to whisper. ‘That’s more security than usual. He’s still looking for you. Keep your wits sharp.’

  She led him to the departure pits at the back and took a slot next to his.

  ‘When you get to the other side, just stay put,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find you.’