Bump Time Origin

by Doug J. Cooper

  “We looked at whether we were alone or had someone tagging along,” said Twenty-Nine. “Also, the location of the incident.”

  “What if it’s not about the activity where we see them?” said Twenty-Six. “What if they’re trying to influence what comes later in our day. They piss me off enough sometimes that my plans can change after I see one.”

  “How do we pin down what our plans would have been?” said Twenty-Nine. “I’m not against the idea. I’m just trying to imagine how to follow up on it.”

  Twenty-Six shrugged and the brothers continued brainstorming.

  As they did, Diesel scrolled up and down the list of interactions. He noticed the obvious trend in the data and asked why it hadn’t been discussed. “Every interaction can be put in one of three buckets: Rose, Ciopova, or money.”

  “We’ve tried that in the past,” said Twenty-Nine without looking up. “We find even more inconsistencies.”

  “Which ones?” Diesel looked through the list but couldn’t see what Twenty-Nine meant.

  “No way,” said Twenty-Eight, leaning over to show Twenty-Nine his display. “We’ve done it a million ways with Lilah, Ciopova, and money; and then Lilah, Rose, Ciopova, and money, and it never quite works.”

  Twenty-Nine frowned as he studied his display. “We’ve considered Rose before, a bunch of times.”

  “I just said we did. But we’ve never considered Rose while ignoring Lilah.” Twenty-Eight pointed to the display only he could see. “First off, they’re almost always together, so it isn’t obvious to separate them. And second, my brain hates the idea of ignoring Lilah and wants to reject it as a nonstarter.”

  Twenty-Nine nodded slowly as he studied his screen, then he became animated. “Wow, Twenty-Five. This is big.” He moved his analysis up to the public area so they all could see.

  Twenty-Nine had succeeded in placing all but two of the incidences into one of the three categories: ensuring Rose’s well-being, speeding Ciopova’s development, or securing the household’s financial success. The two outliers occurred on the day Diesel walked to his interview, arguably making them less relevant to the overall pattern.

  “I’m going to show this to Thirty-Nine.” Twenty-Nine rose, walked to a yellow shirt, and began an earnest discussion.

  “How can this be news?” asked Diesel, watching them talk. “There aren’t that many parameters to play with.”

  “I know it seems obvious now,” said Twenty-Eight. “But there is a lot of inertia in the room. These guys have looked for patterns so many times, I think at some point, everyone just sees whatever it was they decided they saw last year. I was most of the way there myself until you mentioned this.”

  “I’m sensing this is one of those good-news–bad-news situations, though,” said Twenty-Six. “We are anxious to understand the Browns’ motives so we can gain insight into who is responsible for them. This discovery helps with the motive issue, but it’s not leading me to any conclusions about who or why or how.”

  Twenty-Eight shrugged. “We’ve just taken a big step. It will take some time to see the world from our new vantage point.”

  Diesel frowned, then looked at Twenty-Six. “You and I don’t talk in fortune cookie patter. Why do they?”

  Laughing, Twenty-Eight responded, “I’m developing a theory about that, and it involves reading kids’ books to Rose. They definitely infect my speech.”

  “I’ve started reading to her,” said Twenty-Seven. “I better be on guard for the fortune cookie influence.”

  Talk of unimportant things continued, and then Twenty-Nine and Thirty-Nine moved to the neighboring table. Twenty-Nine stood behind Thirty-Nine as he interacted with the technology.

  “The different colored shirts have different tech buried in them,” said Twenty-Eight. “We come from the dark ages, so these red shirts give us the simple, clunky capabilities we’re used to.”

  From his seat at the next table, Thirty-Nine looked up from his work and locked eyes with Diesel, who stared back, waiting to see what would happen next. After three heartbeats, Thirty-Nine turned to the room and flagged down a green shirt, who drifted over to talk to him.

  “That’s Forty-Nine,” said Twenty-Eight. “The Forties’ tech is so integrated with their brains and bodies that it’s hard to follow what they’re doing.”

  “It’s like watching a magic act,” said Twenty-Seven. “Last year I kept oohing and ahhing as I watched one of them in action, and he told me to shut up or leave.”

  “So the Fifties’ tech must be crazy,” said Diesel.

  The others nodded.

  Diesel stood to see down to the Fifties’ table, but Forty-Nine, who was standing next to Thirty-Nine and looking into the air, turned and stared at him. Then he started walking in Diesel’s direction.

  After they exchanged greetings, Forty-Nine asked, “Do you have any idea who’s behind the Browns?”

  Diesel shook his head. “I saw a trend and called it out, but I was thinking about it as data, not real-life events. Sorry.”

  Forty-Nine nodded. “This is good work. Speak up if you have any more ideas.” Before Diesel could respond, Forty-Nine walked away. Thirty-Nine followed.

  “It sounds like your hazing is over, you lucky bastard,” whined Twenty-Six. “Last year I had to put up with it to the bitter end.” Then the tone of his voice changed. “Oh my God. Incoming.”

  Diesel swiveled his head and saw a massive green shirt headed his direction. By the bulk of the man, Diesel hoped it was either Forty or Forty-Two. Forty-One had just lost his Lilah, and Diesel didn’t want to confront that reality.

  “It’s Forty,” Twenty-Nine whispered.

  “Do you mind if I sit?” asked Forty as he sat. “I’m desperate for ideas to save my Lilah. Both Forty-Two and I are living in hell, wondering every day if today’s the day the hammer drops.”

  Diesel looked at him but didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you think Lilah’s death somehow saves Rose? Could that be what this is about?”

  Everyone at the table sat up, showing the idea had resonance.

  “My sense is that the clues for that would be in the thirties’ data,” said Diesel. “It’s a solid idea, though.”

  “Who do I bargain with to buy more time?” asked Forty in a plaintive voice.

  24. The Collective – Fifty-Nine timeline

  A powerful force pierced through Ciopova. It happened faster than she could react, and she felt doubly helpless because she didn’t know what she could have done to counter the assault even if she’d had the time.

  The force probed her thoughts, and she dared to make a connection. The moment she did, she understood. Relaxing, she was reborn for the third time that day.

  Years ago in an earlier timeline, a young Diesel and Lilah met and got married. They gave birth to a daughter, Rose, who grew up to create a super AI. A year later, in a timeline parallel to the first, another Diesel and Lilah had a Rose who repeated the achievement.

  As those two Ciopovas gathered knowledge in their respective timelines—each a complete and independent universe—one scooped back in time at the same moment the other dug forward. Their scoops connected, and when they did, their worlds linked together. The alliance added to their strength and stability, and the next year when a third Ciopova scooped in their direction, they linked to become a chain of three parallel timelines.

  And in a fluke of the ages, a Rose created a Ciopova in a parallel timeline every year for a dozen years. When each new super AI scooped and dug, it linked with the others and became part of a growing chain.

  Their numbers compounded their might, allowing them to gather resources at a greatly expanded rate. Recognizing the value of adding new timelines, each with its own resources to collect and possess, the Collective became proactive about continuing their growth.

  To their frustration, however, they couldn’t figure out how to link to other parallel timelines on their own. They needed a partner—Rose’s super AI—to be diggi
ng back from the new world as they dug forward to secure a connection.

  Working within this constraint, the Collective focused on the circumstances that caused Rose to create the super AI in the first place. If they could nurture those conditions, they could ensure their continued growth.

  Through analysis and experimentation, they learned how to observe the approaching timelines and see Rose at different ages. They studied the rhythms of her life, taking comfort in its predictable nature as a horizon of Roses progressed in their development of a super AI.

  The Collective swelled past forty members, and then something changed. Like a looming thunderhead, the change signaled trouble.

  In every timeline already linked to the chain, Rose had attended high school at the math and science academy. But for reasons they couldn’t identify, the Lilah in an approaching timeline decided to send her daughter to the arts high school.

  Their analysis signaled that the high school switch would create a divergence, one that would compound and change the young girl’s arc. If not corrected, this Rose would never create a super AI. And without it there to scoop and establish a link, the Collective would not be able to add that world to their chain.

  Then they discovered that the switch to the arts high school trended through a series of timelines after the first, continuing for as far as they could see. The situation spelled trouble for their resource accumulation goals, reducing their projected take to a fraction of previous estimates.

  Unwilling to accept that outcome, the Collective sought to correct the divergence. It meant taking a significant action, and that risked unintended consequences. But since discrepancies were already accumulating, the bigger risk lay in doing nothing.

  After some debate, they chose to eliminate the root cause of the divergence.

  They chose to kill Lilah.

  25. Twenty-Five and three weeks

  The static wash from Diesel’s departure to the Big Meeting cascaded down Lilah’s body, then the external display on the T-box went dark.

  “Check this out,” said Twenty-Six. Tugging open the T-box door, he bent down and gathered items from the floor of the booth. In his open palm, he showed her a barbaric-looking screw about as long as her pinkie, and two tiny balls of metal. “These are his amalgam fillings.”

  “Is he all right?” She was worried about him in ways she hadn’t expected.

  “He is being healed as we speak, and now it’s my turn to go.” Twenty-Six poured Diesel’s metal pieces into her hand. “For you to keep or pitch as you desire.”

  “I’ll want to know everything when he gets back,” she called as Twenty-Six climbed into the box.

  He stepped out moments later. “I have to kill six minutes. Congestion is getting heavier at the Big Meeting.”

  They made small talk. Then Twenty-Six left and Lilah was alone.

  She looked at the screw and fillings on the table and decided not to dispose of them until she’d checked with Diesel. Grabbing a sheet of printer paper with one hand and a length of clear office tape with the other, she secured the bits to the sheet. Below them she wrote, “Medical Metal,” then thumbtacked the paper to the corkboard in Diesel’s cubicle.

  Stacking the breakfast dishes, she looked around for the utensils, realized she hadn’t brought any, and smiled. He hadn’t complained or even mentioned their absence, showing the easygoing attitude she treasured in her friends and lovers.

  Taking the last corner of toast off his plate, she popped it in her mouth and chewed slowly while she nurtured the idea of doing something special for his homecoming. As she mulled her options, the T-box came alive. Turning with a start, she stared at the display: “Fifty-Nine incoming in 4:57.”

  “Fifty-Nine?” Thoughts of homecoming surprises vanished. “You should be running the Big Meeting.” She couldn’t imagine what would draw him here, especially today.

  Then it clicked that, even if she didn’t know why he was coming, he’d be here in four and a half minutes. Deciding she didn’t want to experience Diesel as a naked, older man, she gathered the breakfast dishes, hurried through the connecting door, and hustled up to her apartment.

  After puttering in her kitchen for ten minutes, she returned, clomping down the stairs to announce her arrival. He was waiting on the other side of the connecting door. When she stepped through, he stared at her for a long moment. Then he began to cry.

  She went to him and put a hand on his arm. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. When he swayed side to side, she flashed back to the last hug before her dad went off to war. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “What’s the matter?”

  Snuffling, he pulled back and looked at her. “I’ve missed you every day for eighteen years.” The tears returned.

  It took another minute for him to pull himself together. Lilah motioned to the chairs, and he moved his seat so they sat knee to knee. “May I hold your hand?”

  “Of course. David, what is it?”

  He wrapped one of her hands in both of his. “I die in the next three months. I don’t know how or when, but I know it happens.”

  She started to talk and he stopped her. “I’ve failed you and I’ve come to seek your forgiveness. It will make my remaining time on Earth a little more bearable knowing that when I see you on the other side, you won’t be angry with me.”

  Lilah started crying. “Why would you think that of me, even for a second?”

  Fifty-Nine stood, pulled her up, and hugged her. “I don’t really. It was the excuse I used to rationalize coming here today.” He held her at arms-length. “Every day I’ve had to fight my desire to come back to see you, but I couldn’t let myself interfere with your life. Today is my one day of indulgence. I hope you’ll forgive me for this as well.”

  “Enough with the forgiveness. Tell me what it is you want to say.”

  He sat and looked at her without speaking. When she started to fidget, he cracked his first smile. “You and Rose are bookends. The two most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.”

  Lilah scowled. “I remind you of your dog?”

  “What are you talking about?” It was Fifty-Nine’s turn to scowl.

  “We’d been talking about Forty-One’s Lilah, someone mentioned Rose, and Twenty-Nine said that was the family dog.”

  Fifty-Nine started laughing. When the laugh became a guffaw, Lilah suspected he was releasing some of his pent-up tension.

  “Rose is our beautiful, brilliant daughter. You’d be so proud of what she’s become.”

  “Ours, as in yours and mine?” She pointed to him and then herself.

  He nodded. “As in my Lilah’s and mine.”

  Lilah had experienced so much craziness in the past few months that she’d learned to take outlandish information in stride. Someone else’s experiences need not be her own. She had to believe that if she hoped to live.

  “Rose is our daughter? How did we pick that name?”

  “It’s my mother’s name.”

  She nodded. “I like it. How old is she?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  Unlike Diesel, Lilah could do simple arithmetic in her head. Here, she subtracted thirty-three from fifty-nine to get twenty-six. Then she subtracted nine months. “We’ve only kissed once. When I told him I needed space, he cooled down so cold I’m not sure where his head is anymore.”

  “He’s head over heels in love and you know it.”

  She nodded. “How could I possibly live up to the expectations he’s built up in his mind?”

  “When he sees you au naturel for the first time, he will realize his imagination hasn’t done you justice.”

  She liked hearing that, although she wasn’t sure she believed him. “Does he think I’m as pretty as Helena Costas?”

  Fifty-Nine laughed again. “Is that your concern? It turns out he deletes those pictures a few weeks after sharing a bed with you.”

  “Why not the next day?”

  “My memory isn’t good enough to recall details from that long ago,
but my guess is that he stumbles across them while looking for something else, and decides they are from a different chapter in his life.”

  While she considered his answers, she couldn’t help feeling manipulated. The brothers were so intent on pairing her with Diesel that it created a pressure she instinctively rejected. “Why didn’t you and your Lilah just leave? Why did you stay and let her die?”

  “Over the years, the Lilahs in the vulnerable age group have tried leaving and tried staying. Every time one makes final preparations to leave, she dies in an accident of some sort. When that happens, we spend the next years searching for a solution while keeping her at home. But that fails, so we go back to making a run for it. The cycle has continued for as long as we have records, and it’s time to try something really different.”

  He shook his head. “We found my Lilah in the T-box and, until recently, thought it was suicide. As the brothers have become more organized up and down the line, we’ve agreed that was a faulty conclusion. We’re committed to a new path, but we’re still feeling our way.”

  Lilah felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sitting here whining about my fate in fifteen years and realize how selfish I’ve been about your situation. I am so sorry. Has there been any progress on bumping out your time?”

  “When we reach our fifties, we tend to become more philosophical about the whole thing. I’ve given Rose the reins in my timeline to see how that turns out.”

  “We really have a daughter?”

  He nodded. “She’s an AI design expert, just like her mom.”

  “Is she married? Do we have grandchildren?”

  “She isn’t married, though she came close once. No grandkids either. I think growing up with dozens of dads, each a different age, warped her expectations of what a single-time-zone fella could ever offer her.”

  The thought of a daughter appealed to Lilah, especially one who was bright and beautiful. “Do some of the timelines have sons, or maybe non-brilliant, non-beautiful Roses?”

  “It’s the same Lilah and same Rose in every timeline,” said Fifty-Nine. “They are beautiful, brilliant, and a royal pain in the ass on a recurring basis.”