by James Murdo
Philsima huffed loudly while Beatrict II stared at the figure.
“If you have any questions, please ask me afterwards.” Taiden flicked his palm as he stepped backwards, causing the holo to leave his hand and expand in size to fill the space in front of the girls.
Taiden moved over to talk to Gerstial during the holo explanation. Once it was finished, he pointed to the flairfolds on either side of the room. “Please lie down, Philsima, Beatrict.”
“Ready, Trict?” Philsima asked gleefully, jumping onto the closest flairfold. Beatrict II ignored her, climbing hesitantly onto the other one.
“Don’t worry,” Gerstial said, as he looked at his two daughters. “I’ll be just out there.” He gestured to the entrance. “It’ll be over quicker than you think.”
*
Tolren dived and rolled over.
“Missed!” Gerstial II shouted.
“Strange throw, Gerst!” Tolren managed, pushing himself up and running over to the flybo. “What was that?”
Gerstial II shrugged. “Flybos go weird sometimes.”
“That defect only happens when there’s another one around.” Tolren motioned exaggeratedly around them. “There’s none here!”
“Hurry up!”
“Fine,” Tolren said, getting ready to throw.
“I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“Phils is getting her ring today, isn’t she?” Tolren asked, watching Gerstial II run towards the hurtling flybo.
“And Trict.”
“Trict too?” Tolren’s eyes flashed wide in surprise.
“Finally.”
“What convinced her?”
“Everyone has one. It’s stupid to wait so long.” Gerstial II threw the flybo towards Tolren.
“At least she doesn’t have to go far.”
“What d’you mean?”
“You’ve got your own doc-room.”
“So do you – it’s for everyone here!”
Tolren caught the flybo comfortably, then laughed and shook his head.
“It’s your father’s room,” Gerstial II added.
“Fair enough.” Tolren grinned. “Anyway, I’m bored. Let’s change it.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Let’s make it shoot sideways, instead?”
“Sideways! Don’t be stupid! How will we catch it? And it’s already playing up–”
“Fine, just not straight up then, let’s tilt it… unless you think you could convince Big Gerst to lay down some hover-plating. That would be incredible!”
“He won’t budge. It’s a maybe – for when we’re older.”
“But hover-gaming isn’t even dangerous anymore!”
“I know. Electro-clamps are the furthest he’ll go. And that’s all inside, for practical purposes only.”
Tolren moaned. “Your meld probably owns half of Lillea, but you can’t even get hover-plating.”
“I know.” Gerstial II groaned. “It’s so unfair.”
“Well, stop holding onto the flybo then,” Tolren shouted with his arms wide.
Gerstial II threw it, Tolren almost made the catch. “Dropping all of them, aren’t we?” Gerstial II shouted.
“Shut up!”
Gerstial smiled as he watched his son and Tolren playing, before closing his fist and cancelling the feed. Gerst was right, he was not going to be engaging in any hover-gaming anytime soon.
A chime sounded, and he breathed out loudly. He sat down at the bare desk and clapped his hands together. Instantly, the desk appeared to elongate and curve past where the walls had been. He was seated just off-centre at a rounded table, almost a semi-circle, looking from side-to-side as six others were projected into the holo-environment. He nodded at each in turn. A moment later, Beatrict appeared beside him. They smiled warmly at each other.
“Region reports,” he said. “Tell me about the inner Roranian territories. How’s our influence? Konti.”
The woman furthest to his left moved her hands about, and the blank, white space in front of them was replaced by a space map with various pieces of emphasised information.
“As you can see, we’re almost at saturation,” she said. “Mostly nutrients and peripherals now. Very few operations to install primary rings.”
“I see,” Gerstial said, pursing his lips.
“We’re still focusing on the nutrient packs for the Alexis-night stations. Highly profitable–”
He waved his hand and nodded. “And we’ve put all the formulations into the markets, okay.” He surveyed the statistics that flickered beside the space map. “On the night stations… there are still quite a few ninth gens – how much longer till automated obsolescence?”
“Factoring for piracy and self-upgrades, at least fifteen years.”
“And their percentage?” Beatrict asked.
“Twenty.”
“Ideas on how to reduce the phasing time?”
“I’ll look into it,” Konti replied quickly.
“Anyone else?” Gerstial looked around. No one volunteered. “Next time I want strategies.” They all nodded.
“The worst outcome for the meld is if people move from Alexis tech,” Beatrict said. “Fifteen years is long, too long. We have to continue driving momentum.”
“It’s that or start selling the technology to the Foist,” Gerstial said lightly.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Beatrict replied.
“We’ll discuss phasing strategies next time. Thank you, Konti.” Gerstial dismissed her. “Neregin – updates on the embargoed systems?”
“They are now flat-out rejecting Roranian governance and therefore the legitimacy of the Alliance.”
“It’s still a power struggle then.”
“Effectively.”
“They want different terms for themselves,” Beatrict remarked.
Gerstial sighed and shook his head. “The Alliance doesn’t allow that. The Foist won’t let members negotiate different terms, reduces the legitimacy of the whole thing.”
“We need to be seen to be able to govern ourselves effectively,” Neregin added.
“If we start granting exceptions, it undermines everything. The Alliance could crumble.”
Neregin tipped his head to either side. “We’ll have to see. Some argue it’s inevitable.”
“In either case, you’re sufficiently monitoring the situation?” Beatrict asked.
“It’s unclear, but I’m monitoring for any signs of opportunity, yes. It’s nowhere near as bad as in some of the outer territories… we’re not looking at another Nirloden–”
“Yet,” Gerstial commented.
Neregin nodded. “Not yet, and hopefully not at all.”
“Uncertainty breeds chaos,” Gerstial said. “Not good for business.”
“That’s a certainty,” Beatrict said, smiling.
The discussions continued, and when the meeting was concluded, Gerstial nodded curtly at each of them in turn, dismissing them. A moment later, it was just him and Beatrict.
“I need to check on Phils. I’m not sure she’s taken so well to the implant,” Beatrict said.
“Oh? I’d thought she was–”
“It’s not that. It’s something else. I’ll join you later.”
“Of course.”
Beatrict nodded and disappeared. Gerstial clapped his hands, causing the holo-scenery to disappear. The room was back to normal. He stood up, concern crossing his face as his thoughts played out. He turned around to face the flat wall behind him. Placing both hands against it, he waited. After the wall had slid to the side, he walked forwards into the dimly lit, narrow passage. The wall closed behind him.
Repeating the same motions as before, he placed his hands against the flat surface at the end of the passage, and it also slid away. A small, circular platform, with a red light glowing around its edges was exposed. He stepped onto it.
Once the silent scans of his body were complete, the elevation platform hummed into life. Holo-controls appea
red. He placed his finger through the large button in the middle, and the platform began to descend.
He counted to fifty, at which point the familiar descent began to slow, then another thirty, until it came to a complete standstill. A wall slid aside, and a room waited for him, near-identical to the one he had just left.
He walked over to the desk, straightened himself, and sat down – clapping his hands once. A chiming sound followed, and a lone figure appeared beside him.
“Quesimone,” he said, turning to acknowledge her. She half-turned to him and nodded back. “Reports on our diversification efforts?”
9
CIQALO
Since the return of the stars, Ciqalo worked furiously to establish what had happened. The reality was awe-inspiring, even for a craft-lect. It decided to wake one of the more capable c-automs to corroborate its analysis.
{Stellar positions are incorrect since the sensors flipped.}
[I’m giving you permissions to access all sensor feeds, 421<0>!001011.]
Ciqalo waited.
{Sensors indicate a strong sensespace presence here. We are in danger of being infected and should leave immediately.}
[Tell me about your other findings.]
{Ciqalo, we need to–}
[Tell me.]
{We’ve travelled far from our prior position. The anomaly has displaced us.}
[What are your estimates?]
…
[421<0>!001011 – what are your estimates?]
{Cross-referencing expected galactic configurations from the databanks, we’re at the base of the Cullen Segment of the galaxy, a half-turn along the Til-Medium Spiral from where we were.}
[Details?]
{We should leave, the sensespace presence is significant.}
[Where to?]
…
[421<0>!001011?]
{I am unsure.}
[Reasons?]
{No current stellar configurations in the databanks match observable data. An exact match for the configuration was only found upon reversing the galactic flow. The likeliest explanation I can produce is that the anomaly displaced us in both space and time. Therefore, I cannot suggest any particular course with certainty, since I am not certain my conclusions are correct.}
[What is your estimate of the displacement in time?]
{Stellar configurations suggest a backwards displacement of two hundred and fifty to two hundred million standard years. This is long before the creation of our own civilisation, and at a time when the threat of sensespace infection throughout the galaxy is very high. This region was known to be inhabited by long disappeared civilisations such as the Pro’xanthi, the Quillians, the Estem-p, who are presumed–}
[My analysis too.]
…
{Do you believe it’s correct?}
[That’s where the evidence leads. Moving from our current location could be dangerous. I believe the only reason we have not yet been infected is that the anomaly protects us. It seems our understanding of the anomaly is correct in that regard. It is unaffected by the sensespace.]
{What do we do?}
[We wait.]
{Is there any precedence for this?}
[On this scale? It breaks almost every fundamental law of the universe. It shouldn’t be possible.]
{What about databanks node technology?}
[That’s different. Databanks nodes exploit a quantum loophole that allows for confined time-shifting, where signals can be phase-shifted back onto themselves in time. It’s non-matter-based, the system is closed, and the operation is extremely localised.]
…
{First contact with the anomaly’s creators isn’t proceeding as intended.}
[You’re assuming it’s not a natural phenomenon.]
{Do you think–}
[Too little evidence either way.]
…
[Do you have anything else to add?]
{No.}
Ciqalo cancelled the communication channel between them and berthed the c-autom. Approximately nine standard days later, the stars began to twinkle out, one by one, and Ciqalo’s sensors flipped for a second time.
*
Ciqalo woke 421<0>!001011.
[Analysis?]
…
{I can’t comply.}
[Reasons?]
{Readings are nonsensical. Are the sensors malfunctioning?}
[Impossible to say.]
In the absence of any meaningful discussion, Ciqalo berthed 421<0>!001011 again. It was ten standard days until the sensors flipped once more.
10
GERSTIAL
Quesimone brought up various holo-displays, as the others had before, describing the progress that was being made in each secretive department.
“And the Cognitive Venture?” Gerstial asked, folding his arms and readying himself to cancel the holo.
“There’s been progress,” she replied.
He stopped moving. “Progress?”
Quesimone smiled – a rare event. “I discussed this with Beatrict last time. Will she be joining us?”
“No.”
“Issues with the Alexis-ring integration for one of your daughters?”
Gerstial eyed her sternly. “Continue with your explanation.”
“Okay.” Quesimone nodded lightly. “The more recent areas of investigation are yielding surprising results. We’re looking at a variety of potential sub-projects… smart tracking–”
“Any result would be surprising, by now. What’s changed?”
“To put it bluntly – our current machine-lects are failures. They’re little better than smart, almost non-sentient systems. I’m not sure they’re even strictly classifiable as machine-lects to the wider galactic community. It’s why the Alliance doesn’t focus on them. They’re an embarrassment. We can’t yet fabricate a true machine mind – a lect.”
“But we’ve had some progress?”
“Absolutely. We’re now theorising there are other ways to synthesize machine consciousness. Gerstial, we were simply unlucky in joining the Alliance. The machine-lect technologies shared by the Foist were the biological equivalent of evolutionary dead-ends.”
“What have we created?”
“Nothing usable yet… but we will, and soon. Think of it like exploring for the correct architectures, instead of having to design each one. We don’t understand why certain architectures work, but we’ve had success in learning how to alter them. It’s only a matter of time before we succeed.”
“This could change everything.”
“It could.”
11
CIQALO
Each time the sensors flipped, Ciqalo discussed its observations with 421<0>!001011. The four hundred-and-twelfth time the c-autom was awoken, the situation was different.
{Ciqalo – what’s happened?}
The c-autom waited for the craft-lect to respond while rapidly accessing various sensors to survey the damage.
[Something sliced through the ship.]
{What did?}
[I don’t know.]
{We’ve been attacked?}
[I don’t believe so.]
{Seventy-three percent of the ship is gone.}
Again, 421<0>!001011 waited patiently for Ciqalo to respond. The craft-lect was clearly engaged in more necessary activities.
[I know.]
{Should we flee?}
[421<0>!001011, I woke you for practical suggestions.]
…
{There may be more danger outside the anomaly. Readings do not make sense, the–}
[Exactly. What if the nonsensical readings we received indicate the surrounding spacescape – which is utterly opaque to us – is even more inhospitable? What if those readings imply we cannot survive away from the anomaly?]
…
{Something within the anomaly may destroy us, but we could also be destroyed outside the anomaly.}
[Indeed.]
{But the item has been destroyed, we can no longer detect it. W
e have no ability to detect the external environment anymore.}
…
{We–}
[I’ve already transmitted our situation through all available media and dispatched distress drones. Now, observe the data. Let me focus on reconfiguring what’s left.]
…
{There’s no indication the other seventy-three percent survived.}
[The data, 421<0>!001011.]
…
{There’s useful information about the manner in which the rest of the ship was removed.}
[‘Removed’ – good choice. Continue.]
{It wasn’t simultaneous. It began on one side, and moved through, as though a flat surface pushed its way into us. One end of the surface travelled quicker, in the pattern of a pico-arc.}
[Which suggests?]
{Arcing suggests a structure, possibly rotating about a fixed point. The impact may have been accidental. It appears random, unlikely to have been weapon based – potentially an unavoidable collision.}
[Or incidental.]
{And the shape of the surface that sliced through us seems to have been generally linear, although with certain undulating, repeating features. More suggestive of intelligent design than natural.}
[My analysis too.]
{The anomaly is non-natural.}
[That, or something within it is.]
{What can we do?}
[We can’t take the risk of complete destruction, and we can’t detect collisions of this nature in advance. There’s little evidence to inform us whether or not this will happen again.]
…
{You’re not conducting repairs, are you?}
[I’m expanding and dissociating the mirror-nodules. Each one contains an imprint of myself, you and the rest of the c-automs. I’m also encasing each one in grey-triamond – for protection.]
{You’re going to jettison them?}
[Yes.]
{They were never designed for this.}
[Now they are, and they’re as good a choice as any. Time is limited.]
{We have no understanding about where we are.}