by Exurb1a
Argie tried to cry out. She found she could not. She tried to back away, to run with her non-body. That was just as futile.
“Navigator!” Her scream echoed out into infinity, then died in it.
“You know,” Lambert continued, “when new selfsenses are generated, they’re implanted with a few complementary false memories. This is to stop them going mad. The early experiments in selfsense creation were horrible affairs. The minds looked for their own history and found none, knew that they were brand new. Sapien babies emerge from the womb barely sentient at all, of course. They do not encounter this problem. Our young are not quite so lucky. They are born fully sentient. To counteract madness, the birthing machine leaves them with a few trace memories. Sometimes these memories are random fictions, sometimes they are borrowed from historical records.”
Lambert put her face close to Argie's, or some strange geometry that perhaps resembled a face. She smelled her. “And you? What memory do you think was chosen for you? – to stop the psychosis, to make you personable?”
No, Argie thought. God, no.
“Ah, the life and times of Polly Hare. The machine chose only a few little snippets. Enough to inspire obsession in you though apparently. Why it chose her of all people perhaps we will never know. Doubtless the memories were only supposed to pad out your selfsense until such a time that you created your own identity. Unfortunately, like a baby clinging to its mother’s teat, you could not quite unattach yourself. You are not Polly Hare, nor are you based on Polly Hare. Do you understand this?”
Argie sensed control of her mouth return, though it felt abstract and distant, thousands of miles away. “Go to hell,” she said calmly.
Lambert smiled. She examined Argie again as one might a prospective horse purchase, then exploded into a mass of thousands of black ribbons, each wrapping about Argie with silken delicacy. It was not painful. She heard Lambert’s voice in her selfsense, deafening.
I will eat you. I will gorge on you. Our entropy shall be as one entropy. I will eat you. I will gorge on you. Our entropy-
A white light blinded, accompanied by a deafening screech. When the light abated and the noise abated, Lambert was lying some distance away, still.
“Addled…” came a soft murmur. Thousands of glass shards swirled about Lambert’s body, a manic storm of geometry.
“You know,” The Navigator said, approaching from behind, “Lambert didn’t pause to consider that True Space is basically just void space in between the tiers. I remembered our friend stuck between said tiers.”
“Addled…” came the moan again. The shards raged.
“Misinidai,” Argie said.
The Navigator nodded. “He was happy to lend a hand. Plenty of grievances between him and Lambert.”
“Taunted me!” Misinidai howled. “Used to come here to taunt me! And you shan’t ever leave, you dumb oaf, she said.”
“Go,” The Navigator said to Argie. “Go on, get out of here. She's waking up already and she's not best pleased.”
“Addled!” Misinidai roared.
Argie didn’t move. The Navigator rolled his eyes. “Not meaning to patronise here, but you’re going to be fucking useless against this monster.”
“We all are,” Argie said quietly.
“No. We’re not.” The Navigator’s body and selfsense began to expand, slowly at first, then accelerating. His tags registered larger and larger until approaching almost infinite. The void was filled in every direction with him, save for two distant points: Misinidai and Lambert. Lambert was getting to her feet, already wearing a snarl.
The Navigator's voice came as a great boom. “Get to Indigo. Find the child. Reason with her. This can still be undone.”
“How?” Argie yelled.
“Who knows? Go and find out. The operative word there was go. Don’t make this all in vain, eh?”
Argie stared a long time, could not speak, could not find the words. Lambert exploded into wild black ribbons again and launched herself at Misinidai and The Navigator simultaneously. The Navigator parried with a geometry warp. True Space ripped and folded, cried out. Misinidai yelled, thrashing from within Lambert's ribbons. The Navigator was disappearing into them also, his bulk diminished suddenly.
A thought came over them all, an external thought that echoed and echoed: I will eat you all. I will gorge on you all.
Argie watched them flailing, the scene trapped in some interval point between fucking and killing. It was not a fight as such, she knew. Rather a war of wills and privileges and commands, Arcadia regulating each stab and parry, Original Migrant versus Original Migrant. For a moment it was beautiful. Then it was not.
The Navigator ripped free of the ribbons partially, dragged himself towards Argie. “It might still be undone,” he said again. “So undo it. Hell, try at least. Get to Indigo, stay alive.” Then, with a great kick of selfsense, he propelled Argie back into Lemuria, back into the world of straight lines and depth, of colour, where geometry behaved Herself and occasionally even said please and thank you; back to the land that was dying and nearly dead; back to the empty plains and twilight; back to the mountain little Kaluza had climbed some time ago and vowed to eat the world.
17.
EXCERPTS FROM THE WORKING NOTES OF MARIE LAMBERT, COLLECTED IN PRIVATE VOLUME: THE MINUTES OF THE 248 COMMITTEE – 3/1/2022
Benjamin Hare arrived at the house around 7 o'clock. Mishka informed me he was outside and I instructed him to proceed as though nothing was out of the ordinary. After some minutes Hare approached the house and rang the doorbell twice. I answered the door myself. He was rather surprised to see me, naturally. I invited him into the study, closed the door, and informed him I would be recording our conversation for posterity. When he objected I made it clear that we would not be able to proceed without recording all further communication, as per Polly's instructions. At the mention of his wife's name he became compliant.
HARE: What's this all about?
LAMBERT: Can I offer you some water, or tea perhaps?
HARE: No. What the hell is this all about? You live here?
LAMBERT: In the company of others, yes. It's probably best if I tell you everything I know, or everything I can tell you anyway, and we go from there.
HARE: Is Polly here?
LAMBERT: No.
HARE: Where's Polly?
LAMBERT: As I told you last time we met, no one at the present time knows Polly's location except Polly.
HARE: This is bullshit. Who are all the other people here? There were loads of them.
LAMBERT: Dr. Hare-
Clattering sounds.
HARE: Right, I've had enough. I've fucking had enough. What's this all about?
LAMBERT: If you would be kind enough to calm down a moment, I'd be glad to explain it to you.
HARE: Go on then and no bullshit.
LAMBERT: You are currently at the main headquarters of the 248 Committee. We are-
HARE: The E8 shape has 248 dimensions, just like Polly's broach. Is that connected?
LAMBERT: Very much so. The 248 Committee is an organisation primarily concerned with the preservation and continuation of your wife's work. The exchange you found in Polly's inbox, the trouser press comment you were so curious about, it related to a trip we were taking to China together to further spread our organisation's message. Polly and I travelled often. We have several other headquarters around the globe, but this is the nerve centre. Polly decided it would be proper to lead you here. She was certain you would come eventually.
HARE: Why though?
LAMBERT: That will become apparent in time.
HARE: You said no bullshit. You're acting pretty differently to the last time we met at Evegreen.
LAMBERT: It was understood that you would be more suspicious of me if I appeared to be hiding something.
HARE: Well you obviously were hiding something.
LAMBERT: Indeed, but nothing sinister. Apologies for the subterfuge. Now, to the meat of it. Po
lly's work and the work of the 248 Committee has recently attracted a great deal of attention from those with a vested interest in seeing it discontinued. We would prefer it if that didn't happen, obviously. Are you familiar with the core of your wife's most recent research?
HARE: I think so.
LAMBERT: To what end?
HARE: She thought, thinks, that nature is logical, right?
LAMBERT: Axiomatic, yes.
HARE: And she wanted to use your research to build a new kind of computer, to test her theory.
LAMBERT: Quite so. She provided a great deal of the funding.
HARE: Polly's been broke for years.
LAMBERT: Not so, I'm afraid. In fact her bank accounts collectively contain upwards of eleven million pounds, dispersed, of course, across several continents.
HARE: What in God's name-
LAMBERT: What I will tell you next may provoke something of a confused reaction, but I must ask you to stay calm. There are a number of researchers on the premises whose work we would not wish to disturb.
HARE: Just tell me what the fuck is going on.
LAMBERT: It became obvious very early on that Polly and myself would need a great deal of funding to realise our goals. Private investment was out of the question since this would mean revealing our research intentions. We settled instead on creating a spiritual organisation, thereby utilising donations from its adherents.
HARE: …you started a religion?
LAMBERT: In a facile manner of speaking, yes.
HARE: Based on what?
LAMBERT: Our research, though we didn't make it too obvious. You will perhaps know the organisation as the Church of Topology.
HARE: Never heard of it.
LAMBERT: No matter. The adherents are mostly based in Eastern and Central Europe. The British mind was apparently somewhat resistant to the principles, a lack of imagination perhaps. Over the course of almost a decade we built a strong base of believers, mostly middle-class suburban types looking for order in the world and in their lives. To be sure, there is no afterlife element or prayer, nor self-sacrifice required.
HARE: Then what are these idiots expected to do?
LAMBERT: Better themselves through a proper alignment with nature. A central tenet of the church is that the macroworld or experience of the everyday is secondary to the bizarre world of modern physics. Consider it: particles popping in and out of existence, occupying multiple states at once, possibly inhabiting other universes simultaneously – all of which is taking place in a potentially infinite cosmos. What daily concerns could ever stand up to such a thing? We are honest with our devotees, up to a point. Shall I give you a poignant example?
HARE: No.
LAMBERT: Consider this. Polly may have been correct regarding nature's axiomatic bedrock. What that really means is quite simple. Matter, space, time, all phenomena, will be secondary to logic, to the world of the a priori, yes? Beneath every strange system in our universe, beneath the so-called 'laws of nature', there will be fundamental reasons for their existence in the manner in which they exist. Isn't that the great mystery? All of physics has been administrative up until this point. What's the speed of light? Ah, now we know! And why should it be that speed? Who gives a damn! How many elementary particles is matter composed of? Ah, now we know! And why should there be that many or that few? Who gives a damn! What an absurd way to apply curiosity. Science is closer to a great cosmic stocktake than any sensible pursuit of truth these days. Why should light be that speed though? Why is theoretical physics structured in the fashion we find it? These are the true fundamental questions. All explanations stop somewhere. Ours stops with Polly's work. Why anything at its deepest level? Well, in absence of a divine creator – who I hope you will join me in dispensing with – what else is there to have arranged nature in the fashion we find it? Only two possibilities present themselves, as far as Polly and I saw it. The first possibility is that we live in one variation of potentially billions or trillions of universes and each are configured in some slightly different fashion. In this scenario there really isn't much point asking why nature is set up in the way we find her as there's no reason beyond our fortune, or misfortune, at having ended up in this particular universe. In the second scenario however we have a far more elegant explanation for the universe we find ourselves in. Simply, there couldn't have been any other way to build a universe. As you know, this is Polly's preferred scenario. It is also the only one that makes any sense.
HARE: Why?
LAMBERT: Because even in a multiverse where there were an infinite number of universes and physical configurations, logic would still apply. In no universe, however strange, could there be square circles or five-sided triangles. There will still be logical underpinnings and those underpinnings must relate to the overall structure. Imagine a house built of Lego bricks. A child might tear the thing down and build a boat instead, or a plane, or a car, but the bricks themselves won't change in their configuration. Likewise the universe could be assembled in any other way than the one we find it, but logic will still be absolute. It is the guiding hand beneath all oddities. The devotees of the Church of Topology are aware of some of this, in a cursory way. They have pledged their lives to supporting the unveiling of nature herself. The more abstract elements would be lost on them, of course.
HARE: This is insane.
LAMBERT: Thousands disagree. Why, the house you find yourself in now has only been made possible through their donations. When the theory is complete they will see their efforts returned tenfold.
HARE: Theories don't mean a lot without evidence.
LAMBERT: Which is exactly why this project exists. Consider the scale for a moment. When before in history has an end result in research had so many devotees and well-wishers?
HARE: And when do you expect results? When does any of this crap pay off?
LAMBERT: We're making headway already. This won't mean a great deal to you, but the method itself has already been verified. We have confirmed a number of 5-sigma links between a priori mathematical phenomena and high-level empirical observations.
HARE: What does that even mean?
LAMBERT: Strong evidence, if you will, of bridges between fundamental mathematics and objects in nature. This is nothing new of course, mathematics and physics go hand in hand. What is novel however is the fact that we're making headway with so many bridges previously undiscovered. The shape of the Basketane molecule, for one thing. Its formation was a mystery before Polly's work. Now we can account for its bizarre behaviour via, among other things, E8 geometry and high-dimensionality. Reality itself is a hyperdimensional shape protruding into three dimensions, it seems. We are only now beginning to unmask the beast for what it is.
HARE: You're mad. You're completely mad. Is Polly here? Is she locked away down in a fucking dungeon?
LAMBERT: Dr. Hare, I have been left with specific instructions to make you as aware of the project as you are intellectually able.
HARE: By who?
LAMBERT: Your wife. She made it very clear before she left that you should be informed of every aspect of our operation here.
HARE: Why?
LAMBERT: So you could take it over, of course.
HARE: Prolonged silence.
LAMBERT: You'll forgive me, but I still don't think you quite appreciate the magnitude of our enterprise. If we're successful, we will have forged an entirely new approach to the unveiling of nature's mysteries. No more enormous particle colliders. No more expensive satellites. No more peering down microscopes. Nature's face will rise out of the mathematics. Her eyes shall be made of coefficients and derivations. Every day here, every hour here, we work towards that goal. On the ground floor of this building our physicists are looking for new phenomena to feed into the algorithm such as previously mysterious scientific data that apparently has no logic to it. On the second floor our mathematicians and geometers attempt to discern links between said phenomena and already understood mathematical postulates. On t
he third floor, our axiomats-
HARE: Axiomats?
LAMBERT: Ah, a professional term we invented: a cross-discipline of mathematics and physics, occupying the void between. The infinite divide straddling is and seems. Poetic, no?
HARE: Not really.
LAMBERT: In any case, they evaluate possible links between logical concepts and empirical phenomena and attempt to formulate the process mathematically. On the fourth floor our programmers formulate any accepted theorems from the three floors below and feed them into the algorithm itself.
HARE: There are five floors.
LAMBERT: Very perceptive. The fifth is reserved for the building of Hephaestus, my life's goal. That is my role here: the construction of a hyperdimensional computational substrate.