by A. I. Zlato
“The Presence that you saw?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Anyway, the coroners found no evidence of foul play, no outside intervention, no trace of violence, no poison …”
“Mental suggestion may be strong enough to push someone to commit suicide. You can die of fear, you know.”
“I know, I had already thought about that... but I still have no trails, I don’t know where to look. I should perhaps position more Special Agents at the centre of circles where we observed the phenomenon for the first time, and also on the circle itself, all distanced from each other by, say, a hundred metres? In other words, to mobilise all resources to hope to see a cyclone, of which we know absolutely nothing, especially nothing about its frequency of occurrence, and pray that in reviewing the phenomenon we can stop it? And best of all, find out what is the something or someone who is acting on children five days before and brings them up there? How could this be possible?”
“Well, not the way you imagine. Did you say you wanted to think differently? Hypothesis. If one considers that the cyclone is the trigger factor for the suicides, every case of suicide is an occurrence of the cyclone ... It may be possible, with dates, to identify a frequency, and with the scene, extrapolate the following occurrence ... A mathematical series.”
“It would be that simple?”
“The solution to a complex problem is not necessarily complicated ...”
“And you would know how to calculate it? You are a historian, not a mathematician.”
“Your trust honours me ... and I did not think of calculating it myself, but of launching an algorithm via with my terminal. Send me the necessary data.”
“OK, I will send it through ... oh shit! I really have to manually input all of that?”
“No. Ask your Machine to store information in the exchange directory A-12 / R. It is an indirect communication file between the Tower and us.”
“Done.”
Baley stared anxiously at the screen, waiting for the answer.
“Meanwhile, I want to talk to you about something else. In the children’s writings, I found one sentence, 'we must break the circles. The Equilibrium is the beginning and the end; there is no longer a middle.’ And when I went to the Tower this morning, I met a Servant, who told me a similar sentence.”
“A Servant ? I'm sure this is irrelevant.”
Paul’s face had changed colour twice. He was hiding something; that was certain.
“Have you been in contact with a Servant, or do you have information that I don’t have?”
“I don’t see what you’re talking about ...” said Paul.
“You're lying. I know, and you know that I know.”
Baley wanted to dig more about this topic when the terminal indicated that a result was found. An algorithm was determined, making it possible to predict the next occurrence of the cyclone.
“Unbelievable,” she said. “And how to be sure that the result is valid?”
“You wanted a trail? Here it is. Use it as you see fit.”
The displayed result indicated that the next cyclone ... would appear tomorrow at 10:11 a.m., in a park north of the City, thirty children involved ...
“I'll use it to act.” She said.
“How? Another form of persecution?”
“I merely exercised supervision, the last time!”
“And how did you determine the list of children? With tact and gentleness?”
“I will act as seems necessary to me !!”
“You mean, as you please.”
“If you take it like that ... yes! And it's a problem for you?”
“I don’t think you’re looking for my approval, are you? Your methods are ... you know what I think. Do not make me regret even more for having helped you. Please, get out.”
She almost argued that she had not forced him, but she preferred to abstain. Without taking time to say goodbye, she rushed outside and transmitted a priority order to all Special Agents responsible for supervising children. They had orders to stop any child approaching within a kilometre of the park, and it was up for them to find an excuse. She would spend the night at the scene, with video, thermal, infrared, ultraviolet and weather devices ... everything you could think of.
She was going to record this cyclone by every angle, to find the creature that Paul had seen and to kick its ass! It was time that all this stop, so she could resume a normal life, handling investigations lasting a few days at most, cultivating complicity with her husband, having quarrels with her daughter ... her life.
At the back of her mind, the shadow zone moved. To hell with this black hole and these counterproductive ideas! She had an investigation to solve.
Every creation by a human being carries with it a measure of humanity.
The Machine is nothing but the numerical result of a sum of fears.
Lessons from Chaacetime
Chapter 54
Inter-Space (Level 2)
Its last conversation with the Kandron had made her become decisive. Aenea was committed to contacting a Level 4 Gateway. She knew she had no choice if she wanted to differ Space E. She had to learn, and only a G4 could help. A G4 would see nodes as Spaces, and would shrink its mind to talk to entities such as Aenea. Disturbing entities so much ... but it was vital. Aenea could no longer see her node disturbed, and all she had done so far did not prove fruitful.
Cae was bloodless, scattered in the twitching space-time current. The former no longer had the strength to make itself visible, to materialise in the form of the octagon with topaz colour that Aenea loved. The Calorn disintegrated gradually, under the repeated shock of temporary nodes. They appeared more frequently and were maintained longer each time ... and Aenea saw, through the Calorn, this third Space, this nothingness still had a name ... Or maybe had she dreamt? How could that nothing have a name? Aenea was not sure of anything. Space E. ... Did the name evoke its source or its purpose? It was the last letter of the word ... If she had not imagined it, to cling to something tangible. To name nothingness to try to understand ... yes, that was possible. Apart from her speculations on the name or the non-existence of the name of that Space, Aenea could only see the emptiness and the increasing cold that pervaded with each appearance.
The Gateway also saw helplessly how the Calorn declined day by day without a complaint. The barriers defining the contours of their world were nothing but a dough barely thicker than the currents themselves. They were spread to the middle of the node, where Aenea was curled up, her body continuously tense so it not unintentionally cross the limits now so blurred of Spaces. Each threatened to collide with each other. One would only need a spark, a small insignificant event, to cut the space-time and to trigger ...
Drops of Ocean already crossed the porous wall. Aenea avoided them as much as possible, but when these drops touched her, salt would burn her skin. At the point of contact, the inverse transformation towards her human body resumed. Beor felt Aenea’s pain and lamented that it was unable to contain its Ocean. How could Beor? It, too, was very tired. It put all its energy to maintain the barrier between its Space and the node. It should not have had to do that. Cae should have being controlling the node, but it could no longer do so.
Beor then took over as much as possible in its Space, but it was not a Calorn. It could not generate the node, simply hold its Ocean ... Gradually, as this wall displayed more holes, Beor needed more and more energy. And drops of salt water glistened in the Inter-Space ... things could not be otherwise.
Wind blasts from the Unique Forest also reached this dying world. Deo acted as much as possible, but could one retain air? The Phalomera exhausted itself through the task. Moreover, it absorbed the rising anxiety of the City, and now the rage of despair of some locals. The Forest was no longer a haven of peace, radiating tranquillity. At the bottom of the trees, from roots to leaves, emotions in the rough circulated and exhausted Deo from within.
With three weakened companions, Aenea was
also less strong ... She had to act, and quickly.
The G4 ... She gathered the node in her mind. She asked Cae to focus on a point, despite its weakness. The Gateway begged Deo and Beor to focus more on their respective Spaces as much as possible in order to release the node. During her discussion, she could (would not be able to?) not afford to be disturbed by a droplet on her skin or a caressing wind. The poor Mempheragog dedicated all its energy in this task, and the number of drops decreased. The Phalomera did the same, holding wind in its branches. Aenea took a deep breath.
Everything was ready, and yet she hesitated. She decided to observe her Spaces before launching her appeal, in order to have the most comprehensive view possible of the situation. To feel good ... and especially to defer the deadline. She had never initiated such a request. She listened to the space-time current as well as information conveyed, and sometimes deposited there a question. The waves were broadcasting, according to their own assessment, the questions of some and the statements of others.
A call, a direct contact, was something else. Aenea, despite her resolution and her rage to save her world, postponed her request to a later time. Cae released its focus and diluted itself again in this fading Inter-Space. It did not even discuss Aenea’s decision or, rather, non-decision of Aenea — too tired for that. The Calorn would merely spread itself in the space-time, undergoing waves of time as painful experiences. Aenea stretched her mind to her friend but found no comforting thought to send to the latter, only a little of that energy that was missing so much.
Beor and Deo reduced their attention. Then a saltwater net emerged in the Inter-Space, and streamed a moment, grazed by wind, in another time but in the same place. Though Beor merely took its place without saying a word, Deo, nonetheless, issued a mild protest, sending Aenea the recollection of the discussion with the Kandron. She had to differ the Space that generated temporary nodes ... she had to prevent the future that Kandrons had seen ... and if she were to contact a G4, then she had to do so immediately.
Aenea replied that she wanted to observe her two Spaces first. Deo implored Aenea, but the latter did not give in. It remained stuck on its own idea. The Phalomera did not share her choice ... Was it still a consequence of temporary nodes? Aenea never had a difference of perspective with Deo, Beor or Cae ... They were, together, part of the same body ... How could Deo have a dissenting opinion of Aenea’s? The question was not about which viewpoint was right or wrong; that was not important. However, this discrepancy made Aenea suffer beyond words.
The Gateway extended her fingers towards Space H., and while doing so, watched this human hand, which the Ocean had given her. Since her memories were more easily accessible to her, staring at parts of her transformed body brought her intrusive thoughts. She sometimes thought that the answer to the temporary nodes problem was in her past life ... as if an insignificant choice made thousands of years ago could result in a disaster that was now announced ... That was insane. Yet, when her human memory overwhelmed her, Aenea could not break away from that idea.
The Gateway slipped her hand into the time magma that separated her limply from Space H. Not so long ago, the barrier was a soft but firm touch ... Her spirit merged with the sap in the trees. She listened to the City and its inhabitants. She listened to the grief, confusion and especially the anger that emanated. Children were dying, more and more, and nothing and no one seemed able to stop the phenomenon.
Things were getting worse, not surprisingly, from this side of the Forest.
Aenea also saw Iris, the girl whom Deo had pushed towards the hybrid for reasons known only to Deo. Through the trees, Aenea saw, out of the Forest, a strange light in her eyes. She was fundamentally different. She was no longer the simultaneously rebellious teenager and sweet daughter, full of emotions in the rough that sprang from her permanently. There was, in her blood, something cold and metallic. The Phalomera showed Aenea what had happened, how Iris had inherited Mossa’s memories. Aenea then asked, in a whisper, if Deo had wanted this transfer, if that was its goal when it had pushed Iris towards the hybrid. It did not answer. Then Aenea reached into Deo’s memory, against the latter’s will.
Deo thought that Iris could learn how Mossa had landed there ... see his journey through his eyes ... but it had not imagined things would go that way. It simply thought Mossa would eventually confide. It was both worried and sorry for Iris. Aenea looked at her for a moment, and sensed in her a dumb rage stemming from her new brain. Hybrid thoughts in an organic body ... the same memory for two people ... it was impossible to predict the consequences.
Aenea then observed this hybrid defector from Space O. He toiled a lot on the shuttle project, taking part, it seemed, in its construction. What was his true motive? Now, Aenea was seeing the shadow of the digital entity behind him. He was not a mere aberration in the framework of space-time; it was a pawn in the events. It was time for Aenea to learn more about this entity, and she could not turn to the Machines for help.
The Kandron had said that Servants could reach the digital entity, which was not the Machine, and counter it. Aenea had to get in touch with them. They had so far been able to conceal their true nature from her, staying in the shadows. As they came out of their hideouts by intervening in the City, perhaps they would agree to talk to her. They could teach her more about this artificial thing that was growing. She extended her fingers, looking for a very thin digital frame. If the nine had decided to remain invisible, she would find nothing. She examined the frame, nonetheless.
The Gateway walked away from both the City and the lake, where humans were concentrated, and from the Forest, where she was. . She was looking for a secluded place offering shelter that could withstand the passage of time, say, thousands of years. Snowy, hostile and distant mountains fit this description. Indeed, she guessed something. A lightweight, digital data net appeared before Aenea. She felt this was a deliberate act, and that if Servants had tried to hide it, they would have had no trouble doing so. Instead, the light digital tape sought her touch. Aenea let the connection be established.
“You were Helen, weren’t you?” She heard, surprised.
“How do you know that?”
“We've already met. You can remember, now.”
Aenea accessed, without difficulty, her human memory. The Kandron had told her that Servants were the Guardians ...
Thomas ... her husband. Memories came back, went up, overwhelming Aenea. Working on the concept of Space, she had been aware of the teams creating the Machine. She had discovered that Thomas secretly belonged to one team. They no longer had any reason to hold secrets from one another, to their great relief. In the evening, quietly, for fear of eavesdropping, they told each other the progress of their work. Although Thomas had been enthusiastic at first, he had sensed a flaw in the principle of Equilibrium, that nobody other than he wanted to see. As Helen, who conceptualised Spaces better than anyone else, Thomas saw beyond mere survival. For him, the full completion of the Equilibrium was stagnation.
If the Equilibrium was a good thing, the Permanent Equilibrium was a guaranteed decline. In theory, the Machine was programmed only for the Equilibrium, but Thomas saw the Permanent Equilibrium as a possible Pandora’s Box. A permanent non-evolution meant death, even though the concept was the cornerstone of their hopes.
The Equilibrium was everyone’s dream, but not his own, at least not completely. They had a long discussion about what to do. Helen, full of that human pride, was convinced that her Spaces, stemming from her design, could withstand everything. She was already thinking more in the way of travel to the Inter-Space rather than the concerns of her husband, but she had listened. And the memory of their discussions forced itself upon her brain, thanks to the contact with the Servant.
Unable to do anything to stop the majority, Thomas had written many hidden messages, like bottles thrown into the sea, hoping that future generations would find them, and especially understand them. He also created, in the greatest secrecy, the Guardian
s. Robots, immortal, which would safeguard his beliefs and would defend them when the time came. There were also the laws of the Machine as well as the higher instructions ... but that memory remained in limbo.
“You are Thomas’ representatives. You are interfering because the Equilibrium is expanding, as he had predicted.”
“He planned this risk, yes. He gave us instructions to counter abuses. However, he did not anticipate the emergence of another digital entity.”
“Even he could not imagine the worst ...”
“This is different from his vision of the future, yes, but that he had also planned it.”
“How?”
“Our programming is scalable. Auto-learner.”
“So the entity …”
“Our goal is to fight against the Permanent Equilibrium.”
“And Kandrons have seen that future ...”
“We know nothing of this.”
However, Aenea knew. Kandrons came from that future and were doing their best for it not to happen.
“Will you succeed?” She asked.
“We will succeed, or we will be destroyed.”
“Can I help you?”
“According 5th Hexa, yes. The Heptagon shares its opinion.”
Aenea remembered the Kandron telling her that Servants’ actions had not been sufficient in the past. It had said it would prefer its solution this time ...
“What is the connection with Space E.? The temporary nodes, which threaten the very existence of Spaces?”
“We do not have access to these places.”
Yet, that was part of the problem ...
“Helen, we told you all we could say. Remember your human past ... Thomas thought you might need it.”
“How? He ... he had planned? ...”
“When he had not seen you back ... then he knew.”