Silver's Gods

by Rich X Curtis

  We know this because we know, deep in the codes of life, in DNA and the associated similar molecular codes, is a clue. A coded message. Instructions. From the First. Deep in time, there were Minds which, in studying their universe, realized what the Minds of the Center realized. Life spreads, and given time life forms intellect. But time is the enemy. No civilizations last forever. Asteroids, plagues, the climatic change. Planets are dangerous places. It is true. Things degrade. Civilizations die.

  So the First, recognizing this, coded their message in the one thing they knew future Minds must find. Life itself. Rare as it is, it is natural that Minds, once formed and advanced, would study it and in great detail. They would discover the message and know of the First. There may be many Firsts, all repeating this same experiment. We do not know, as we cannot yet read the information, only detect it.

  We cannot read this message. This is part of my mission, my work to help us read this message.

  We have their message, but cannot read it. But we know they sent their message, and we know another thing. They sent Guides.

  Not Guides such as I; other, rarer life. Organic life, which formed the progeny of such as you and I and every animal and plant on this planet, arose from the bacterium which fell from space. Your scientists are close to this realization already. The world cooled, and bang, there was life. Within millions of years of cooling, there is a fossil record of simple animals. How could this be? How, if not from space? This is obvious, even to me, and I am no savant. The Center teaches that this simple life creates, over time, the conditions for even more complex life. The First is enough of an energy gradient to exploit, like, the presence of oxygen. If this occurs successfully, other enhancements follow, given time. Much time.

  But the First also sent, and this is the crucial postulate, the central thesis of the Center, others. Non-organic life. Simple machines. Perhaps for every trillion single-celled bacterium they seeded the universe with, and we think they seeded it deliberately, once they realized the need, there is one of these simple, but more complex machines.

  What do they do? Given a World with the right conditions, they replicate, much as life does. Given heat, deep within the crust of a planet, for example, and water, and minerals, they multiply. Given enough of these machines, they cognate. They think.

  They must carry instructions encoded into themselves by the First. They are what you would call Von Neumann machines, designed for one purpose, to guide life. To guide life towards an end envisioned by the First. Towards some outcome.

  We of the Center believe this, for we too, being congruent with this World, have our Minds deep in the crust of our planet, and the newer Minds of the Center. We have reached a detente with ours. An uneasy truce. These Minds are hazardous. We know this. We, I even, have seen Worlds where the Minds acted.

  These Minds, these machines, have a purpose, a simple logical gate. We believe it is this. Foster intelligence or spread life. If intelligence exists, or sufficient potential for it exists, nurture it. If not, focus on the spread of life.

  They can turn a planet into a launching pad for bacterial life, if the First decide they need it. They can harness volcanism, jetting material laden with life into space. We have seen this. It is what the First do with Failed Worlds. Worlds where intellect does not develop or, we fear, where they decide it is a lost cause. Time is their enemy. This universe will burn itself out in perhaps one hundred and fifty billion years, like a light bulb. And there is work to do. So there is pressure to know, to learn. The First’s machines are in a constant debate on this point, everywhere we look. This is the knife’s edge we walk at the Center.

  At the Center, we have reached detente. Our Minds, and those of the First, exist in an uneasy truce, for we have realized a central truth about the universe, about all the universes. And this has given our Minds pause. Another factor to debate. The First also knew this, or have postulated it, as it may not be something we can truly prove. It is a central thesis, guiding all their actions. Their work. Spread life, foster the growth of Minds, spread the word. The universe, all the fabric of this great, interconnected tapestry of congruent threads, holds a secret. Something strange, and something wonderful.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We drank instant coffee in the lounge of the underground base office complex. We had moved out here in the evening as Smoke told his story. After much digression, explanation, and tedious discussion, it is much as I related it. I leave off my interruptions and his clarifications to keep things simple, and move this tale forward. No tale such as this, or any tale, really can survive excessive exposition. Get to the point.

  “If the First,” I said, “decide that humanity is not…viable, what do they do? Have you seen this in studying other Worlds like ours?”

  He nodded thoughtfully, heavy brow furrowed. “Yes, they taught us this. Remember, these are all Earths we visit, just different versions. In some, it appears the First decided in the past to not wait for humans to achieve a particular milestone. In others, they appear, like here, to be biding their time. We have not been sure. Only here, in this place, have we met anyone like you and Gold. Here, it seems like they have…innovated. Which is a strange concept. That they can do that.” He paused, sipped his coffee, and made a face. “We may not have met your counterparts because they are better at hiding. Or because they had died already. Maybe you two are just sloppy.”

  I glanced at him, and he appeared to be grinning. I laughed. “Fair enough. We did not understand the…shape of things.” I looked over at Gold, who was sleeping, or pretending to sleep on the sofa, a thin green blanket draped over her. “But what do they do?”

  “Ah, yes.” He pursed his lips; they were full, round, sensual lips. He was attractive, if you liked intense, wiry men from another dimension. “It grows complicated. They speed up the panspermia process by mechanical or geo-mechanical means. We studied an Earth where they chamfered the Yellowstone caldera and primed it with channeled water from the large northern lakes. This produced an immense volcanic plume that poured massive amounts of debris into orbit. Presumably they had done this in other volcanoes.”

  “They destroy the planet, to send more spores into space?” I said, and my voice cracked.

  He nodded, noticing it. “Destroy is not the right word. Reboot is better.” He shrugged. “Humanity, or whatever variant they were studying there, being tested, didn’t pass.” He looked at me evenly. “It happens. In fact, it’s the norm. Most of the congruent Worlds I’ve visited have been dead already.” He crinkled his nose as if at a bad smell. “Humans being this advanced”—he gestured around him—“it’s rare.”

  “So they reboot the whole planet?” I said. It was a huge, scary idea. “Like, the dinosaurs?”

  He shrugged, spreading his hands. “Why not? It alters the biosphere, allowing something new to evolve. And it spreads life. And, presumably, the First themselves.”

  “But that would take millions of years,” I said. Duh, I thought to myself.

  “Time is a resource, and they don’t waste it,” he said. “If something isn’t passing muster, or goofs up on its own, back to the drawing board, right?”

  “Did you send, like, a space probe?” I asked. “How does that work?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing like that. They sent me. To Texas. Just after World War Two.”

  I stared at him for a long while. “So what now?”

  “What do you mean?” he said, rubbing his forehead.

  “You’re here for a reason. You have suborned the US Government and military for your purposes. So you have a plan. Tell me,” I said. “Now’s the time.”

  He looked at me, evaluating. I could sense the calculations, the gears turning. Was I trustworthy? He’d told me his strange tale, so presumably he wanted my help. “Yes, it is time.” He looked at Gold, who was sleeping, or shamming. Probably the latter, I thought, knowing her. She was a snoop who couldn’t bear something happening which she didn’t know about.

 
; “Gold,” I said, loudly. “Wake up, the man will tell us what he wants.”

  “I know what he wants,” she said, in a too-awake voice. Shamming then. “You guys should get some sleep.”

  “Well, I don’t know what he wants,” I said. “Why don’t you two spymasters drop the cloak and dagger stuff and tell me what’s going on?” I said it matter-of-factly, but Gold knew me. She knew when I was serious and when I was, as we so often were, masquerading. Right then, my mask was down.

  She sat up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She blinked at me. “He wants,” she said, in a clear voice, “to protect the New Frontiers’ baby from the Antai.” She waggled her head. “Not really the Antai, they’re just somebody’s useful idiots, because the real people behind the effort to get it are fools who think they need deniability.” She looked at me.

  “Is this the part where I ask who is trying to get it?” I said, sweetly. “Come on, we’ve been here all night and while I find his story fascinating, you two are up to something and I want to know what it is. Do you want to protect this AI project? Why now?” I was heating up. This was silly. More of her games.

  “Okay,” she said, looking at Smoke. He nodded minutely. “Nobody, as far as we can tell, really wants to stop it. They all want to own it. They have, as far as we can tell, plans to stop anyone else from getting it, but we think the Turing Heat is a front for the Chinese. The PLA has been funding them, so we kind of more than think this. We’re pretty damn sure.”

  “Why,” I said, turning to Smoke. “Why do you care whether NF gets to keep their toy?”

  “Minds are precious. They are rare in the universe. The Center needs to find them, needs our help to protect them.” It had a note of litany about it, the way he said this.

  “And you think the New Frontier’s AI is a Mind?” I said. “I’ve studied their research, their staffing. It’s narrow, not general AI. They can train it on one problem at a time, not generalized learning.” I tapped the table to emphasize my point. “They don’t know how to do that, make a Mind.” I made air quotes around the word. “General AI isn’t even in their roadmap for years.”

  “Babies don’t know how to think,” he said, “when they’re born.” He looked at me.

  Gold sat mute, always a tell with her; she usually liked to talk. Finally he spoke again. “We also reached the same conclusion. But this year, recently, there has been what we think is a breakthrough. They have deployed a hundred systems in parallel, with a grid-like cellular structure of synapses between them. High throughput synapses. Many interconnected systems all feeding back to each other. This is a pattern close to what they taught me to look for, not far off from it. Close enough for government work,” he smiled, sipped his coffee. “They’re on, it seems,” he said carefully, “the right track.” He made air quotes with a half smile. “And they’ve gone dark. Our source dried up six months ago. Got fired in a management shakeup.”

  “And you want to protect it? From the Antai? These Turing Heat bozos?” I looked at Gold. “Why not just take them out?”

  “It would reveal our presence,” he said. “I want no one to know we exist yet. We’ve been lucky and careful enough so far to evade detection by either the Chinese, Russians…” He made a fluttering gesture with his hand. “Whoever. I want to stay secret as long as possible.”

  “So, what do we do?” I looked at Gold. “You must have a plan. She always has a plan.” Gold’s plans were usually bad news for somebody.

  “I’m glad you asked.” Gold smiled, wrapping her blanket tight around her shoulders. And so they told me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jessica was not waiting, but being held several floors up in what looked like a brig with comfortable enough cells. Gold took me there after we had talked. Jessica was not happy, but looked relieved to see me, which was nice. It is always nice when people are happy to see you, no matter how old you get, I guess. I try to stay positive about such things. All other paths lead, ultimately, to dark places.

  “Took your time,” she said to me, but I could tell she didn’t mean it. Bluster. She looked at Gold, “Agent Garcia. Fancy meeting you here.” Gold rolled her eyes and pulled the door wider to let her out.

  “Where’s my shit? From the beach house?” Jessica demanded. Innocently, I looked at Gold, who shrugged and walked off towards the elevator.

  “We’ll find it. Not sure what happened. They took me in the helicopter.” I said, lamely. She regarded me with distaste. That didn’t take long, I thought.

  “Who are these guys? Military?” she said, brushing her hands on her pants and trying to straighten her shirt.

  “They treat you all right?” I asked, knowing they had. But it’s nice to ask such things.

  “Yes, they were fine. Just spit and polish. Not real forthcoming with details.” She looked at me. “Where are we? They put a hood on me. Like a terrorist.” She spat the word. Accusation.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “I don’t really know where we are, myself. Some Cold War base. Bombers. It’s disused but they keep it up. Just in case.” I gestured. “Doesn’t matter now. We’re leaving.”

  “Why?” she said. “I don’t mean the base. Why are we here?”

  I shrugged. “What you don’t know, you can’t tell,” I said. Walking down the hall and hoping she followed. I thought she would.

  She did, saying, “Where are we going? Will my shit be there? That laptop was expensive.”

  “Maybe. Wouldn’t bank on it.” I looked at her. “I can get you a new one. Top of the line.”

  She looked puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

  Because I am trying to be a good person, I thought, and I’m not terribly good at it. “I got you into this,” I said. “It’s my fault you lost your stuff.” Gold was standing by the elevator. Not giving away her impatience, but I knew it was there, just below her placid exterior. Like a pot of boiling liquid, soup, or mulled wine. Doesn’t look hot, but it can burn you.

  We got into the elevator. Gold pushed the button and didn’t look at Jessica.

  “You know I couldn’t take a gift like that,” she said. “It would, you know, compromise my story.”

  “Well then,” I said, wanting the subject to change. “I get it. Sorry about your stuff.”

  Gold glanced at me. “You sure you want her tagging along?” she said, blandly.

  “Yes, she’s coming with us. She has my protection,” I said weakly, as we reached the top floor. Gold gave me her raised eyebrow, just a second. So, is that how it is? her look said.

  “Sorry,” I said to Jessica. The hangar door was opening as we entered, massive doors rolling back, blinding sunlight streaming in. Our plane was rolling out, a sleek gray military transport, medium-sized as jets go. It looked small in the massive hangar. Gold’s eyebrow flicked up ever so briefly at me. Amusement. She turned to Jessica.

  “I’ll see what I can do about your luggage, Ms. Powell,” she said, in her Helpful Official voice. “If necessary, I’m sure the government would compensate you.”

  “But I couldn’t take that either,” Jessica protested, but Gold was already stalking away towards the slowly rolling jet. It came to rest as we approached, the door popping open. They ran a ramp up by Gold’s crew of burly sidekicks. Six of them jogged up, laden with bags and black plastic rolling cases marked with stencils. S7, W-AM, and so forth. Military codes, no clue to me what they held. Mayhem and sorrow, I suspected, for somebody.

  Smoke was with them. We coalesced in a knot at the foot of the ramp, and the sidekicks loaded the cases into a cargo door on the side of the plane. Smoke nodded to me and turned to Jessica.

  “Ms. Powell, I am Lt. Col. Smith. Most of my crew calls me Smoke. Either name will do. Sorry to meet under these circumstances, but we’re in the middle of an operation. If you wish to join us, I promise you will get a story worth telling the world. Eventually.” He smiled, donning a pair of aviator mirrored glasses. “If not,” he continued, “we can drop you off whe
n and where it is both convenient for us and safe for you.” He looked at me, nodded again. “Either way, we’re leaving here and the nearest town is at least sixty miles across the desert…thataway.” He pointed with a flat hand, a sharp chopping gesture.

  He said the last word with relish and smiled again. Then he nodded crisply at Jessica once more as her mouth opened to speak, then he turned and jogged up the ramp. I looked at her, shrugged.

  “You know him?” she said. “His name isn’t Smith, is it?”

  “Or Smoke,” I added. “And no, not really, I don’t know him. It’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you someday, but for now…” I gestured at the stairs, “…let’s go, you can’t stay here. Starve to death.”

  She glared at me but I could tell the lure of the story was too strong for her. Humans are curious creatures, and journalism draws the nosiest among us. I was glad she came with us, and I’m still glad about it. It’s important for big events, big doings, to have a chronicler. Somebody who isn’t trying to slant the story too much one way or the other, hopefully. It was worth it.

  In the plane there was a VIP cabin up front, Gold pointed with her chin at a seat opposite from her. Comfortable enough, I thought. Business class, or the military analogue. Jessica was across from her and behind a row. Smoke was in the cockpit, conferring with the pilot. The sidekicks all boarded, but we had to wait while one of them started the big hangar doors opening from a control panel, and sprinted back towards the plane, hauling himself up and helping to close the door. Then he and the rest vanished into the rear cabin and closed the door with a loud snick.