Chaacetime_The Origins_A Hard SF Metaphysical and visionary fiction_The Space Cycle_A Metaphysical & Hard Science Fiction Saga

by A. I. Zlato

  “Only binary will lead to success; unit is not enough.”

  The Machine pondered the Kandron’s last words. After all, removing one element from his or her usual shift would not disrupt the City’s affairs. Furthermore, in the past It had already appointed a team of two Special Agents to solve a major problem that had taken a while to be fixed. It could do it again. Its programming allowed it.

  “Valid data. Selection of two Special Agents in progress.”

  “I was not thinking of a Special Agent.”

  The Machine burrowed into the Kandron’s data to identify whom the animal was referring to.

  “Human without chip. No interest. Data rejected.”

  “He would bring a different vision. His antagonism vis-à-vis the Special Agent will act as a catalyst.”

  “Unknown concept.”

  “They will be more performance-effective together than separately.”

  -“Concept of performance compatible. Data validated.”

  The Machine initiated the necessary instructions to the Special Agent It had selected and to the individual the Kandron suggested. The animal’s selection criteria were unclear, but the Machine had calculated that the addition of this human would have a minimal impact.

  The concept of duet performance, that It had just approved, was thus not achieved. Its processors were operating full capacity, and the system of secondary ventilation turned on. It kicked off an analysis program.

  Death of young humans == Equilibrium threatened

  Resolution algorithm == Failed

  Special Agent selection == Failed

  2nd Special Agent selection == Done

  Investigation == Launched

  WHILE (investigation ≠ ongoing), performance not assessable

  WHILE (performance not assessable), no selection of another individual for investigation

  BUT – individual Paul added

  BUT – Duet not necessary at this stage

  ACTION

  Effective non-impact monitoring of Paul

  Addition of one more Special Agent not justified

  There were too much data … First, the deaths of these human youngsters, the dysfunction of the Special Agent in charge of the investigation, a Servant sabotaging his fibroblast production, a Kandron immersing itself in the City’s affairs … Organic beings were becoming increasingly disturbing.

  It contacted Index Server.

  Not choosing one of several possibilities is, in itself, is a choice.

  Indecision is a type of blindness almost as powerful as decision.

  The Spirit of the Multitude

  Chapter 6

  : Space H. (Periphery)

  Paul was fixing Edgard’s breakfast, while thinking about something else. A new day, or rather a new beginning, or a starting-over… He loved this time of the day, when everything was still possible, where the daily routine had not yet invaded reality. Was a new day a beginning? A renewal? Continuity? Why new? What would be different today? What if everything were identical to yesterday, would it still be a new day? Concept … thing … paths to possibilities. Do not do tomorrow what you did yesterday… The first law of the Space … the most mysterious … What would happen if he did today the same thing he had done yesterday? No … today is a new day, he felt it.

  As usual, Edgard interrupted his inner monologue.

  “Difference and continuity are two aspects of the same thing.”

  “Please Edgard, let’s not philosophise in the morning.”

  “Why is it different in the morning?”

  “Because I am not fully awake, that’s why!”

  “Your sleep is the door to possibilities.”

  “It is mostly a door to dreams.”

  “No, it is the door to possibilities; go beyond the fundamental concepts.

  “Well, OK, if it is necessary. The door to possibilities, my sleep … my dreams. They have become increasingly odd lately.”

  “What do you see in them?”

  “Events I cannot know, because they have not occurred yet … and that occur the next day. For example, without remembering fully what I dreamt of, I feel that something very different will happen today … What do you think?”

  “Remain focused on those possibilities you can mentally grasp. Remember those futures, and that today’s difference will be tomorrow’s continuity.”

  “What is different today will be known to me tomorrow … and my dreams … this otherness of today was known to me in my dreams, past dreams, so … I really don’t know. All this is unclear. These are just dreams, nothing else!”

  “The door to possibilities …”

  “My dreams cannot be premonitory. It’s just an illusion!”

  “Your vision becomes narrow. You are too awake.”

  Paul sighed. He felt that his brain was blocking up, preventing Edgard’s words from creeping deeper into him, although he had broached a crucial question. There was definitely a good reason. Preserving his sanity was probably one reason … Premonitory dreams, that was totally absurd! He handed Edgard its bowl, and reached into his pantry looking for edible things. Everyday activities, like grocery shopping, never caught his interest. He resorted to dehydrated cubes, whose expiration date was remote. Today, his stock was empty, so he shared part of Edgard’s meal. Honey and chocolate was an odd mixture, if one could mix them at all. The mixture was nonetheless nutritious, and thus fulfilled the main role of a meal.

  He still needed to log into the terminal, to order some food. What a nuisance! His status of living being, made of flesh and blood, which needed food, water, sleep, was taxing at times.

  Suddenly, Edgard raised its head, and seemed to be mentally absent. Its bowl fell from the window and ended, broken, on what was left of the lawn. Paul went out to pick up the scattered pieces of glass. He did not want his friend to get hurt. He slipped into the legs of Edgard, which had not noticed his presence. With its body seemingly frozen, the animal seemed out of time. Paul left it alone with its thoughts. He closed with difficulty the window, the twisted edges of which had taken the shape of the Kandron’s muzzle.

  After returning inside, and being lost in his thoughts, he almost noticed that his terminal was blinking, indicating an incoming message. That was very unusual or even exceptional. He got near the device, which was his only link to the Machine. The terminal looked like a miniature Tower. Black, long, its screen was only visible when one put the hand on the side. Of a squared shape, it measured two metres high, connecting the floor to the ceiling. Paul wondered, once again, why it was so large, because it only contained a communication interface occupying a few cubic centimetres. The rest of the structure was nothing but plastomer. Its dimensions certainly symbolised the power of the Machine. Or something else. Paul’s mind wandered as he watched this strange device.

  Was it the Machine that created the terminals, or was it the work of the Elders? Based on who had created them, the interpretation of their gigantic structure differed. If the Elders were the creators, what message had they wanted to convey through this black column? Had there been subsequent modifications since the initial construction? Were the terminals an invention from this Space, and neither the Elders nor the Machine had anything to do with their creation? Paul was carried away by his mental flow, which invariably cut him off from the present.

  What had the Elders transmitted to subsequent generations, and what had their successors really invented? When did the last invention occur? Were they not, in the City, just replicating what the earliest generation had bequeathed them? Do not do tomorrow what you did yesterday … The first rule again returned to the forefront of his thoughts. It had pervaded his thoughts early in the morning, and probably would not leave his mental sphere throughout the day. Why were his dreams so strong, so present? And Edgard’s comments … Today’s difference will become tomorrow’s continuity… Do not do tomorrow what you did yesterday … Two aspects of the same concepts … and what if …

  He placed his palm o
n the cold panel of the terminal, which emitted every two seconds the red light indicative of an unread message. The screen lit up in front of him, and he read the yellow comments posted.

  -- Sender of message: Machine of Space H.”

  He wondered why it was important to specify that the sender was the Space H.’s Machine, given that no other Machine could contact him... Whatever.

  -- Message contents:

  “Beginning of instruction

  Beginning of procedure

  The human being Paul, ID number 100.248.145.255, must take part in the investigation on the youth suicides.”

  Loop: While (solution not found) participate

  End of loop.

  End of procedure

  End of instruction”

  What could that mean? Never had the Machine assigned missions to him. He knew absolutely nothing about the principles of an investigation, and did not really see what value he could add. Moreover, the message specified that he had to participate. In other words, one or more individuals would be working with him. He imagined easily the shock that the Special Agent(s) would feel when they realised that they would be working with him, a historian.

  Special Agents routinely lived with the Machine, and took care of various tasks It would assign them, with the ultimate goal of preserving the Equilibrium. That was the only thing he knew about the Special Agent job. He had watched on news media some interviews with some of them, and he knew he had nothing in common with those professionals. Why did the Machine ask him to work with them? And more, why on this particular investigation? He was distraught at the idea of confronting the deaths of these youngsters, the parents’ despair, the anguish and anger of the entire City … He suddenly had a mini-seizure and dropped his hand off, which had the immediate effect of switching the screen off. That made no sense. How long would the investigation take? His research, his work at the lab … all his life, all of a sudden, was in limbo, because of this message.

  Paul pulled himself together and decided to talk to Edgard, his confidant. Whom else could he talk to?

  “Edgard! Edgard!!!!”

  Paul rushed into the garden, indicating to the Kandron that he needed it. Edgard was still frozen, its mind tied to an invisible mental connection. He waited, impatiently, while trampling. Finally, the Kandron looked in his direction, noticing his presence. He responded, unhurriedly, to Paul’s insistent call.

  “I’m listening.”

  “The Machine wants me to participate in the investigation on youth suicides.”

  “ …”

  The Kandron did not answer, and nothing in its behaviour suggested it had heard what Paul just said.

  “Com’on, Edgard, I expected some kind of reaction from you.”

  “You had not asked a question. Why were you expecting an answer?”

  “Oh, you can be tiring at times! I’m asking you what you think, your comments on this message. Why had the Machine asked me to take part in something I know nothing about?”

  “You cannot know anything about this investigation, as it had not yet started. Unless you had dreamt about it; in that case, we would have a different scenario.”

  “No, I did not dream about it … well, I don’t remember if I did. That is not the point. Why do you think the Machine chose me?”

  “In the Machine’s view, one iteration is as good as another.”

  “… But why me?”

  “The answer to this question is not relevant at this time.”

  “Oh! At this time! So, one day, you would want to explain to me why I found myself immersed in this mess!”

  “Which church?”

  “Mess, not mass. It’s just a phrase. I meant that one day I would like to have your explanations, to understand why they are taking me away from my work, to assign me into this investigation. Why me, and why this assignment in particular. My ongoing research … put on hold…although it is critical.”

  “You think the death of these children is not an important problem, don’t you?”

  “I did not say that, Edgard! You are twisting my comments, and you know that. On the contrary, I think this subject is too important to assign someone like me, who will not add any value to the query.”

  “Today’s difference will be tomorrow’s continuity.”

  “Again? And what am I supposed to understand?”

  “What is so difficult to understand? You know the meaning of each word.”

  “That’s not the question. I … ok, let’s leave it at that, will you?”

  “No, I want to continue.”

  “That was nothing but a rhetorical question.”

  “Why ask a question if you are not interested in the answer?”

  “Ok, enough!”

  Paul was now grumpy, a character trait he rarely had. He went back inside his house to get ready, and went back out to brush Edgard. He passed, furiously, the item on the animal’s fur, without triggering any comment from the Kandron. Once finished, he climbed onto its back, veering towards the lab. He did not know what else to do, while waiting for the Special Agent. He or she was the one who had to contact him first, right?

  Throughout his commute to work, he stared at the Tower. Up until now, he had felt independent from It. His life in the Periphery and at the lab did not interact with It. He barely used the terminal in his office, unless he needed it for the database of his documents. In doing so, he had felt like using a computer gear, not an extension of the Machine. This morning, however, It had burst into his world. It was imposing a task for which he had no qualification, and in which he was not interested. Of course, as a resident of the City, he was saddened by all these collective youth suicides and wanted them to stop. However, he did not feel that he could be a legitimate part of the team of investigators who were working on the incident. Looking at that tall Tower, in the heart of the City, seemed unbearable to him.

  He reached his workplace, and got off Edgard’s back, without looking at the animal. As he entered the lobby; the guard started a grumble about the Kandron and the lawn. Paul refrained, narrowly, from exploding with anger. How important could that patch of grass be? Who really cared? For what??? He shot a malicious stare at the guard, who scowled in his chair, dissatisfied. Too bad for him! Paul crossed the exterior corridor, head down, without looking at anyone.

  Sheltered in his office, he took refuge in his work. This was just not a block of scattered notes; no, it was much more than that. Only this paperwork was important. Here, he felt useful. He walked out and veered towards the centre of the building. There, he opened the door of the storage room and walked through the aisles, with some touch of anticipated nostalgia. Each row contained shelves, on which lay manuscripts, some which were older than one thousand years.

  The room, at constant temperature, away from sunlight, formed a protective shell for precious documents. Fragile manuscripts, they needed to be handled with caution. When a new document was brought to the laboratory, the researcher in-charge had to study its appearance, taking the most detailed notes possible. Then, he or she had to scan each page, to archive the document in the database. Therefore, it was not necessary to physically touch the documents in order to conduct research.

  However, Paul loved so much the smell of parchments, the smooth caress of pages on his fingers, that he regularly strolled throughout the storage room, to the chagrin of other researchers. Today, that stroll felt like a goodbye trip, and the serenity he found in the books quickly vanished, when he thought about the upcoming investigation. Whether he liked it or not, he had to participate in the query. He closed, with regret, the gigantic treasure box, and returned to his desk.

  Once in front of his terminal, he wanted to download all relevant news media reports on this matter, in which he had only had scant interest up until then. He could not listen to it all, as he was so shocked. Children who had their whole lives before them … and the Machine was not doing anything! However, Its role was to preserve the Equilibrium, between humans and thei
r environment, but also among humans. The youth represented the future, and one could not let the future destroy itself.

  He pondered the mystery surrounding the way they killed themselves … their hearts had stopped beating … but why? How?

  “Edgard! Edgard !! EDGARD !!!”

  “Why do you want me to answer? You asked me if I wanted to end the conversation, and I said no. You’ve then said that was not a real question. How do I tell the difference?”

  “You do it on purpose, I know. I apologise for my behaviour a little earlier; I was very upset, and I still am. This investigation assignment upsets me, and your comments do not help.”

  “Why do you call me, then, if what I say disturbs you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I like the fact that you turn my brain upside down.”

  “So your brain works better that way?”

  “I … don’t … let’s go back to the beginning. I just went through a number of files about the history of those suicides. What is happening here, really?”

  “You are not asking the right questions.”

  “Help me then! Which questions should I ask?”

  “A Space is a coherent whole, evolving in a different time. If the whole becomes chaotic, does that challenge the notion of time?”

  As it always happened in discussions with Edgard, Paul’s brain began to make correlations with other conversations he had had with the Kandron, even if they apparently seemed unrelated. He thus thought about yesterday’s chat, during which the animal made the cryptic statement: Reality is the imaginary of the majority. Later, Edgard said that children were committing suicide because their reality and their imaginary were not compatible. These two sentences were interconnected.

  “If the imaginary of children becomes the majority, then it becomes reality … How did that reality affect us, right? If reality is different, does that challenge the concept of time … the Equilibrium … Spaces …”

  “The break in lifetimes of young humans is already a reality.”

  “But what is the imaginary they want to show us by committing suicide?”