The Human sphere that's what it was called, our spiraling arm of the galaxy, before they came. We could have made it great but we ruined it, just like we ruined Terra, carving out our own little empires, looking to satisfy petty material wants and needs and never seeing the bigger picture of humanity as a whole. Maybe that's why they got their foothold, at the center of the sphere no less. They, they are or were, I can’t be sure now, the combined army of an Evolved Intelligence, a malevolent mind with no physical form. Apparently they are were different races conquered by the E.I. and deemed too primitive, violent or stupid to assist it in its goal of figuring out how to transcend reality, so they were charged with slaughtering races like us and rounding up the survivors to toil in their slave-colleges studying to solve the problem.
I look at the desperate situation I find myself in and can’t help but laugh; we could have contained them at the start had we only put our differences aside. But no, our governments couldn't have one another making any gains and coming out stronger at the end of the war instead they fought secret black ops wars to undermine each other behind the scenes while showing a united front to the public. I can’t say how long I've been running or how long I've been fighting; time is something that has little meaning to me now, I can’t even tell if what I remember is my past or if it's my future. I don’t even know what made me think we could run in the first place, it seems so obvious now, if a being was on the verge of transcending reality, what was there to stop it transcending time and space?
Of course, that was then, and this is now. Or were they both now? Different nows? Oh, all the possibilities when the future becomes the beginning and the past becomes a means to an end. It always made me laugh that humanity had come just as close to solving “the problem” as the E.I. has. Not that anyone really knew about that. Not that it really mattered. It made it hard to keep stomping along when no matter how hard you tried and what you did, humanity repeatedly ended up flushing itself down the shitter by squabbling over shiny things while the galaxy erupted around it. Then it turns around and points its collective finger at someone else. Humanity is funny like that. Sometimes I just wanted to bust out the marshmallows and have a roast as the house burned down around me. I sighed and rose from my chair.
I couldn’t see the sun from the window of my office. One whole wall was a flawless sheet of crystal clear glass. It might’ve been another blank, cream-colored wall for all the good it did me. If I walked up to the window and looked straight up I could see almost a sliver of sky. The corporate offices of AlasTech were in a building that was downright petite compared to the others that greedily reached for the stars around it.
If I looked down I couldn’t see the street below, but that didn’t matter. I already knew what was happening down there. I turned away from the window and returned to my desk, slipping into the comfortably cushioned chair behind it. Another side of the room was taken up by a screen that spanned the entirety of the wall. It showed the news. I didn’t need the sound on to tell what the protesters were howling about. Probably because of the signs they were waving and the fact that they were standing in front of my building.
I sighed and made a gesture, and the news turned off and the screen started pretending to be a wall. No matter how many cycles I’d completed humanity was always disappointing in the same ways. When they saw the end coming they couldn’t help but find something to blame it on, even if it didn’t make a bit of sense. I found myself questioning, once again, whether or not humanity was even worth it anymore, whether there was any point in putting myself through this shit again.
There was a knock at my office door.
“Come in,” I said.
My little wisp of a secretary slipped past the door, a tablet under her arm, and hurried to my desk.
“Ma’am,” she said, placing the tablet on the desk in front of my, “I have here the renewal of our contract with Hollander Industries for production of the Mobius battleships. All it needs is your signature.”
I picked up my stylus and signed the document. Matty swiped a finger along the tablet.
“And here is the revised contract with Sulston for the manufacture of the P-83 Phased Pulse Rifles,” she said.
I signed that too.
“Thank you, Ma’am. Admiral Carravette called earlier. He said that something had come up, and he wanted to know if he could push the meeting with you about the prototype Atlas dreadnoughts with you up to the twenty-first at three.”
“Hmmmm, that’s fine. Inform the Admiral that that’ll be fine.
“Yes, Ma’am,” she said, gathering the tablet under her arm again. “The last matter I have for you is that the lawsuit filed by Gillian Lloyd has been thrown out, so that bit of business is over with.”
“Ha! I doubt it. Now people will be screaming about how they finally have proof that the government is sheltering us from this ridiculousness.”
“As you say, Ma’am. Will you be heading home soon?”
“Yes,” I lied, “I’ll be heading home in a few—”
Thwack-thwack!
Matty jumped as something smashed into the window behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find two black smudges on the window.
“—minutes,” I finished. “Well, I guess someone found my office.” The armored glass would’ve stood up to ballistic missiles, let alone a couple of rifle rounds.
“Ma’am, I’ll arrange for a shuttle to take you home.”
“No, no, that’s fine Matty. There’s no need for any of that.”
“But Ma’am,” she said, gesturing to the window. “And then there’s the matter of the protesters.”
“No shuttle,” I said. “I’ll be fine, Matty. I have my . . . ways,” I finished with a small smile.
“If you insist, Ma’am.”
“You’ll be heading home soon, too, Matty?”
“Yes, Ma’am. In just a bit. I have a few minor matters to take care of, and then I’ll be off. I’ll be taking a shuttle, of course. I’m nowhere near as tough as you are.”
* * *
I made my way to the elevator, and down into the lobby. I passed through the front doors. The throng of guards protecting the entrance looked around in confusion as the doors swung shut behind me. I walked around the barricades and through the growing crowd of protesters without a single one noting my presence.
As I left the sounds of voices raised in righteous indignance behind me, I made my way deeper into the city. Eden had once been an Earth-like world. Eden was the closest that man had ever come to finding a second Terra. There was almost always difficulties adapting to the various planets that were capable of supporting Terran life, but Eden was different. Things change though. With Earth uninhabitable, Eden had become the center of all things human. Industry had taken over. The planet had been turned into one giant city. All the indigenous life had been relegated to living in zoos and the occasional wildlife preserve.
I wound my way through the streets, walking for hours. Eventually, I passed out of the commercial district and into the entertainment district. Not a lot of walking around got done in the commercial district, but here the streets narrowed and crowds thickened. The area was splashed with fluorescent yellows and pinks and neon lights dyed the world in alarming colors. Signs, billboards, and screens advertised casinos, restaurants, hotels, brothels catering to various fetishes. Mixed in amongst the crowds was even the occasional Rigellian.
The Rigellians were a bit of a sob story, really. The aliens were big, lamprey-faced bipeds. Frankly, they’re a lot more hideous than they sound. The fact that they looked pretty damned similar to Terrans probably made it worse. Although, it couldn’t have made it any worse that it already was.
Rigellians were the E.I.’s standard shock-troops. Terrans are, as a whole, individualistic, smart, active, and innovative; Rigellians were mostly the opposite of all those things. They could serve no purpose in slave-colleges that the E.I. liked to stick Terrans into. Also unlike Terrans, they bred well in test-tubes and captivity.
There were plenty of news reels that showed brainwashed Rigellians cutting down Terran soldiers and capturing terrified colonists. Humanity has never been very forgiving or rational when scared. Lynch mobs weren’t uncommon, and though Rigellians are, by far, physically stronger than Terrans, technology leveled that playing field. I had killed a fair few of them myself, sometimes indirectly and sometimes not. More than once, I watched as what had been their homeworld crumpled and shattered on my orders. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the ugly bastards.
I stopped at a small restaurant that was little more than a food stand. All in all, it was best to get down to business with a full stomach. The food was cheap, but it was pretty tasty. Looking at the passing faces as I ate was rather depressing. Despair had fully set in. People were just going through the moves. Everyone seemed to think that they were as good as dead already. Humanity will always rally eventually, but when they do, it’s inevitably too late. What you get in a loosing battle that lasts decades and ratcheting levels of fear, depression, and despair. The rioting and violence had mostly settled down. It was kind of like the last stages of a terminal disease.
As evening passed into twilight I cast my gaze upwards to the sky. You do this long enough and things start getting predictable. It didn’t start long after I finished my meal. It was impossible to see much of the stars anywhere on this world. What was possible to see, however, was the flash of ship-to-ship weapons as they detonated. Here and there, an individual inside that ever moving crowd would stop moving, staring up at the searing flashes of light. The number of people stopping to watch grew slowly. It was silent except for the voice of an occasional, inquisitive child.
It was about then that the sirens started up. The quiet suddenly turned into shrieking chaos as people ran for the underground shelters that had been prepared long in advance of this inevitable moment. It was funny, in a grim sort of way. I watched as the crowd trampled anyone who wouldn’t get out of their way. Even though they clung so hard to life, they were all running to their deaths. The shelters would self-destruct when the Rigellians compromised them. That wasn’t something that you told your average civilian though.
I couldn’t say how many times I had done it already, but I did it again. I sat there as everything went to hell around me and pondered whether I had the right to go through with it. I thought of Matty and the billions and billions of others who’ve lived their lives and made their choices. Did I really have the right to take that from them? Perhaps humanity’s time in the sun is over. Perhaps inevitably, humanity will die under the E.I. How many countless billions of lives have I rendered meaningless by continuing this fight? I wondered if Silas had arrived at his answer. Maybe that’s why he killed himself.
Too many questions. Too much doubt. Sitting here while people screamed, ran, and trampled each other and thinking about it wasn’t going to help any more now than it did the last time. It was almost time, and the timing was important. I could’ve traveled from anywhere, really, but some places, some hotspots, are more efficient and quieter than other. No need to attract undue attention.
I rose from my seat and kept walking. There wasn’t much point in paying for my meal, seeing as how the restaurant’s staff and taken off when the sirens kicked in. I moved against the crowd. A woman nearby was frantically screaming someone’s name. Gradually, the crowd began to thin, but there were stragglers. There are always stragglers.
A low howl of engines, rising in volume as the source grew closer, came echoing through the confines of the district. I looked up as the craft passed overhead, engines shrieking loud enough to rattle windows and shake the ground. E.I. designed ships were little more than armored boxes that could fly and were armed. The E.I. was also a believer in quantity over quality. No doubt that hundreds of thousands of craft had been launched planetside. Automated city defenses would destroy thousands, but many thousands of more would make it through.
Occupying a planet was difficult work. One of the general rules of intergalactic conquest was that such things should be avoided if possible. Colonies are a rather simple matter, but on core worlds with populations in the billions, subjugating the entire popular was generally an exercise in frustration, attrition, and futility unless you were willing to turn the planet into a ball of glass. There were all kind of intergalactic accords in place to prevent planets from being bombarded like that, but they often went ignored.
For the E.I., this wasn’t an option if it wanted all those lovely human minds. It’s forces would land on the planet, gather up Terrans, and then send them up to ships where they were put in suspended animation and shipped to where they were needed. All of this happened while the planetary forces were fought to an eventual standstill.
The E.I. fleets were more or less self-sufficient. They had breeding ships where armies of Rigellians could be raised in weeks. The Rigellians were then programmed, outfitted, and then shipped down to the planet until all the resistance was gone. After that, it was just a scavenger hunt for Terrans. I hung around long enough to see it a couple of times. Sometimes I needed to see it, to be reminded of how things go down, of what the future holds for humanity if the E.I. isn’t destroyed.
I was close to the fracture now. It was up ahead inside a movie theater that had a small, decorative glass dome on top. Above the entrance was a large screen playing a trailer for some umpteenth sequel of some horror movie. Apparently, it featured large-chested teenage girls screaming and sharp objects. I walked inside the theater and found the entrance littered with that millennia old, movie-goer favorite: popcorn, along with crushed cups among pools of soda soaking into the tacky, red carpet, and scattered candies.
After a cursory glance around the place, I made a beeline for the men’s restroom. Such things stopped being embarrassing more than ten thousand years ago. In fact, it was hard to be embarrassed about much of anything after the first hundred or so. Four stalls lined the wall to my right. What I was looking for was in the second closest to the far wall. I stepped into the stall and locked the door behind me. I was fifteen minutes early, and since all my brooding had been taking care of for the moment, I waiting peacefully for the time to pass.
* * *
In an instant, I was at the bottom of a gently sloping hill. At the top was a ruined church with a small graveyard. I took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. It had literally been thousands of years since I had taken a breath of clean, fresh air. I did it again. It’s the little things in life.
I pulled my purse out of thin air and slid my makeup kit out of an inner pocket before disappearing the purse again. I flipped open the kit and looked at myself in the mirror. Staring back at me was a matronly, middle-aged woman. Her face was all angles and points with thin lips and a small mouth. It certainly wasn’t a pretty face, but it wasn’t wholly unattractive. What it was was a face that commanded attention and respect. It was the perfect face for a businesswoman. She had sharp grey eyes and long, dark hair that was run through with a few streaks of grey. It needed to change.
First up was the face. I cleared the wrinkles and softened the jawline. I stared at myself in the mirror some more, smiling slightly. I moved up the cheekbones a tad and softened their lines a bit too. I made my mouth larger and my lips fuller, my complexion lighter, and my nose slightly upturned and just barely too big. I shortened my hair to a neat bob that stopped just above my shoulders, removed the grey, and ran through a couple of more exotic colors before stopping on a light strawberry-blonde. I added a light dusting of freckles across my nose and cheekbone.
With my face finished, I shook out the mirror until it was full-sized and stood it on the ground. I took a couple of steps back and examined myself in the mirror. I shortened myself a little, added a bit more curve to my hips, and made my bust a little smaller. For my clothes, I took away my businesslike skirt and top, and I replaced them with comfortably worn, form-fitting jeans and an Aerosmith shirt that had a cat with a lit bundle of dynamite in its mouth on it.
I gave a little bounce, tilted my head cutely, and smiled at myself in the mirror. Perfect. This was a good body. One of my best. I’d be keeping it for a while.
I knocked the mirror over and it disappeared when it hit the ground. Time for business. I walked up the hill towards the ruined church. The church wasn’t as old as it looked, but it had suffered a fire at some point in its past. No one had bothered to rebuild it, and it went to ruin. I sat on one of the graves—its face was too blackened to read any name or date on it—and waited for the others to arrive. I found it mildly annoying that I always seemed to be the first to arrive, even with all of my antics.
That’s when I heard an orange Dodge Challenger with a 440 engine. Not that I knew anything about 20th century cars. I just knew this particular car and its owner. Considering the year I was now in, it was the only car currently in existence. The car came out of the distant treeline and made its was towards the church. The muscle car tore four, unending gashes in the grass as it slid towards my across it, exposing the dark, moist soil below. I knew that the driver was smiling. He was that kind of idiot.
He slid to a stop at the bottom of the hill, tearing deeper rifts in the earth as he did, and climbed out of his monstrous car. Marlon Graves never changed his appearance except for his clothing, and even that followed distinct patterns. His hair was short, he wore a permanent 5 o’clock shadow, looked like he was in his middling to late 30s, and he was dressed in faded jeans, steel toed workboots, and a plaid shirt of red and black. He looked like nothing more than a ruggedly handsome handyman. Until, that was, he reached back into his car and pulled out a naked sword. He leaned the blade lightly against his shoulder as he made his way up the hill to the small graveyard. As far as I knew, that sword had never known a sheathe.
He stopped when he reached the outskirts of the graveyard, a lazy smile spreading across his face as stared at me.
“Very good, very good,” he said, giving the impression that he should be clapping his hands. “I think this might be my favorite one yet.”
“Mmmmm, you say that about all my bodies.”
“I admit, you have a talent.”
“Flatterer.”
“Although, I must say, this look is perhaps . . . a bit anachronistic.”
“And I suppose that car of yours fits right in. That shirt too.”
“You’re always making fun of my shirts.”
“You look like a plumber from a porno. With a sword.”
“Who’s a flatterer now? Unless you’re implying that I’m compensating for something?”
“Why would I do that when you’re perfectly capable of implying yourself?”
“Such a heartless woman.”
I grunted in smug agreement.
We were interrupted by someone else coming up the hill. He was dark complexioned, and he wore cargo shorts, a white collared shirt, black sneakers, and mirrored aviators that reflected the world in indigo hues. His dark hair was just long enough for him to wear it in a pony tail.
“Shit, man. Why don’t you two just get it over with and sleep with each other, already.”
“Poor Rodriguez, seems like he’s jealous,” I said.
“I’m guessing El must’ve rejected him,” said Marlon.
“Aw, c’mon, holmes. No need to bring that shit up. It’s—just—too—painful. Sniff, sniff,” said David expressionlessly. He glanced about, frowning slightly, “Where is that woman? Always feels some need to show up last. Pain in the ass, man. I tell you.”
“Probably making sure she looks just right,” said Marlon. “She always been frustrated that she’s never been as good as Aimee.”
“Now that you mention it, everyone’s looking pretty 21st century.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’m sure El will show up in period dress,” I said.
It was about that time someone appeared upside down in the air about halfway down the hill. The results were predictable. He fell with a surprised shout and rolled end over end to the bottom, landing in a muddy tire track.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new kid, homeboy and -girl.”
“Lucky for him he missed my car.”
“Shit, Graves. You’re one scary dude. I’m all aquiver and shit, and I’m not even the one that was directed at. Try not to make to new guy piss himself all over in fear.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“It’s a hard choice, but I think I’d prefer to place these fine lips o’ mine on El’s ass.”
“What about my ass?” said an annoyed voice.
“Oh, shit! El! How it been goin’, girl? I was simply remarking on how lovely an ass it is.”
“I’m sure.” She turned her gaze to me, frown deepening. David made rude gestures behind her head. I’d had more than enough practice keeping a poker face over the many, many years
“El,” I said politely.
“Aimee.”
The new arrival came up the hill, red-faced and muddy.
“New kid,” said David grandly, “come hither! We shall make introductions and then you too shall be a homie.
The newcomer frowned, probably unfamiliar with the slang, which I’m sure was David’s intention.
“I am . . . David Rodriguez the Excellent. This dude right here is . . . Marlon Graves the Insecure. The pissed off chick is . . . El Bell the Cranky. And this sexy lady who stands before you, garbed in the most disturbing of t-shirts is Aimee Transom the Terrible Tart, squisher of bugs, the first and last disciple of Silas Keller the Suicidal, and our leader!”
I curtsied politely.
“This’ll be the lady who shows you the ropes, kid.” David marched over and threw an arm over the newcomer’s shoulders in a companionly fashion. “Tell us who you are.”
The newcomer blinked rapidly, gaze shifting between us. “I, uh, I’m . . . Carl Carver the . . . Confused?”
David bellowed a short laugh and slapped Carl on the back. “Shit, El, sucks for you. Looks like he has a sense of humor. Could use some work though. You’ll have plenty of time for that, holmes.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said.
The humor drained from David’s face. “Aw, fuck, Aimee.”
“Well, I suppose for Carl it’ll be a long time, but this
will be the last cycle. The E.I. dies.”
“And how,” said El, “do you plan on accomplishing that?”
I smiled viciously, probably ruining that perfect face, and said, “Total war. We’re going to be taking it too the E.I.”
“Well I’m glad to see that you have such a fantastic plan! Why didn’t I think of that?”
My smile faded, “El, your being hysterical—“
“No! No, no, no!” said, cutting the air with a hand. “Don’t you remember what happened
the last time?”
“Quite clearly,” I said, my tone sarcastic. “In fact, I seem to remember that it occurred over one hundred thousand years ago. I fucked up. We were unprepared and reeling from the death of Silas. I rushed us in, and we got hurt. Bad.
“One hundred thousand years. That’s one hell of a long time for a trauma to last, don’t you think, El?”
“What are you implying?”
“That you fear death.”
“And you don’t?”
“Oh, of course I do. We all do. But we keep it in check, and we still understand that we’re not doing this to live long, peaceful lives. We’re doing this to
save humanity. Have you forgotten that?”
“We can’t save humanity if we’re dead.”
“No, but we also can’t save humanity if we’re powerless. We have a shelf-life, El. A long one, but it still exists. Every single time we use our power, the Universe gets
that much closer to catching up with us. We’re nearing the peak of our powers, and it can only go downhill from there. How many real fights do you think we have in us, El?”
“I will not participate in an open war.”
I glared at her and then abruptly rose from the grave. She flinched, and I didn’t bother to suppress my amusement at her reaction.
I paced before he graves for a few moments before stopping and speaking as if to no one in particular. “Democracy is a great thing. I truly think that it is a beautiful thing that every single human can have their own opinion, and I truly think that it is a beautiful idea to take all of those opinions into account when coming to a decision that can affect everyone.”
El looked at me with suspicion, unsure of where I was going with this. David was frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Marlon looked indifferent. Carl’s face was slack with confusion and his eyes kept moving, taking in everyone’s expressions.
“The problem with democracy,” I continued, “is that every single human has their own opinion, and for things to get done, you need agreement. A lot of times, that’s no big deal. Either people’s ideas are similar enough that they can get along or compromises can ensure that even those that don’t quite get their way can reap something of use from the bargain.
“But what happens when a compromise cannot be reached even though one must be? What happens when everyone needs to work together, but they won’t? People die. We’ve seen it happen repeatedly. No matter how hard we’ve tried, humanity fractures, divides itself up, and each respective group looks to its own self-interests at the detriment to all others. The endpoint to that is the death of humanity.
“In that case, what can be done to save humanity? A decisive choice must be made. Even if that choice happens to be unpleasant to some or all, to save humanity, it must be made. What I’m trying to do here, is save humanity.”
It was then that it dawned on David and El what I was about to do. Marlon already knew where this was heading, and Carl still had no idea what was going on.
“I suppose what I’m saying, El, is that I’m issuing you an ultimatum: Do as I tell you or die.”
She looked at me, blinking rapidly as if she hadn’t understood what I’d just said, and when it finally registered she stared at me in horror.
“You—you can’t be serious! That’s just . . . you’re not going to let her do this, are you?” She looked at David, who stood there with his jaw clenched, refusing to meet her gaze. El’s head swiveled to look at Marlon. He gazed back at her levelly. “You can stop her, can’t you? Tell her to stop!”
For a long moment Marlon looked at her, and then he turned his head to look at me. I couldn’t read his gaze, and I felt my heart rate go up. He looked up at the clear, blue sky for a few moments before returning his gaze to me.
“No. Stop. Don’t,” he said.
El began to tremble. “I won’t let you do this,” she said.
“The outcome you’re heading toward can be easily avoided,” I told her.
“No. I won’t fight.”
“Then die.” Her colored faded to sepia tones and she became flat, looking as if she were a character from a strip of old film brought to life. She began to flicker and fade.
“
No!” El shrieked sounding hollow and far away. She gathered her focus and brought it to bear against me. My left arm erupted into ash, carried away on the light bre—and in an instant my arm was whole once again. A bit of color flooded back into El. I grunted annoyance. With a horribly loud crunch, El was smashed flat. The ground beneath her remained unaffected but for her blood now soaking into it. The light breeze carried the stench right into my face.
I cursed.
“That was . . . inelegant,” said Marlon.
“It would’ve carried on too long otherwise. This was the most efficient way.”
“I suppose. This will come back to bite us though.”
“Perhaps.”
“Where do you want us?”
“Marlon, you don’t really have to do anything for the moment, but I’m sure you’ve figured out my general plan by now.”
He nodded.
“If you think you can advance it, then go for it.
“David, I need you to monitor Aldebaran system. I seriously doubt the E.I. will move from its position because it never has before, but . . . just keep an eye on it for a bit.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll be working together close than we’re used to this time around. This is probably the way it should’ve been from the beginning.” I cast a quick glace at El’s corpse. “We’ll return to this location on January 1st, year 2000 at, say, 1200 hours. I’ll have a more concrete plan by then.”
David disappeared without fanfare, but Marlon got back into his car and drove off. His car was out of sight when the sound of his engine suddenly ceased. I turned to Carl. He looked scared, and he had a right to be. This wasn’t exactly how I would’ve chosen this meeting, but you get what you’re given.
“You get the lecture,” I told Carl.
He nodded his head jerkily.
I sighed. “What is the E.I.?”
He blinked at me. “Evolved Intelligence. It . . . is a thing that wants to gather up Terrans and use their minds to solve problems for some reason.”
I sighed again. Frankly, you average person didn’t know much at all about the E.I. other than it wanted for some weird reason. “First, you’re going to need to learn not to use the words ‘Terra’ or ‘Terran.’ ‘Earth’ and ‘human’ are the ones you’re looking for. It might take a while to get used to, but no one will use those words for a long time. Second, the Evolved Intelligence’s purpose is to use human to transcend the Universe. Essentially, it wants to become a god.”
“But the documents said something about bypassing time and space by elevating oneself to another plane of existence.”
“If your understanding of the documents is so poor, I’m surprised you made it this far. The E.I. is pretty much in the same state as David, Marlon, and me . . . and El, I suppose.”
“But, didn’t you just—“
“Patience. The E.I. is similar to us, but it doesn’t have a physical body. ‘Evolved’ Intelligence is a bit of a misnomer. It essentially lets human minds to all the work and takes the credit from them. Sure, it has evolved, but not of its own power. Not really. Because it does not have a true physical body, it cannot exist. Because it does exist any, this means two things: it is a static entity and the Universe wants to erase it.
“By static, I mean that it has one goal and only one goal. Process of elimination leads us to believe that its goal is to supersede the Universe. Or become God, more or less.
“A somewhat reliable source, this is now very, very dead, claims that the E.I. is a collective unconscious of a race of aliens that was wiped out. Its purpose in becoming God would then be to restore its own people. If this is true, then their goal is relatively similar to our. Which is kind of amusing in a grim way.
“What I meant about El is that she still exists. All I did was destroy her physical body. She retreated into her own reality before I could kill her, so now I can’t harm her. And she can’t harm us. If she stays in this reality for too long, the Universe will kill her.”
“I, uh, see.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Carl frowned a bit at me.
“Part two of the lecture: All of us are on borrowed time. We are all paradoxes. We cannot exist, but we do. The Universe hates that, and like a body fighting and infection, it tries to self-correct by erasing us. We prevent ourselves from erasure by becoming blind-spots, and we become blind-spots by wiping out our family lines.”
“Wha—!”
“And by doing this, we created a sort of loop-hole that allows us create our own personal realities. Which, in turn, brings us back to the Universe’s attention.”
“Huh? What would you do that?”
“That’s where we derive our strength from. Our personal realities.”
“But . . . if I understand this, the Universe knows you’re here, so you should’ve been erased, but you haven’t been erased?” He blinked a few times. “You haven’t been erased because having your own reality helps stave off erasure?”
“Yes. That’s it,” I said. “Walk with me a bit. Let’s get away from this corpse.” We started moving down the hill.
“She can’t go back to her body?”
“No. If you retreat into your reality, you can’t bring your body with you. You can freely return to your body, but if it has been destroyed, you’re screwed. You only get one body.”
“Okay. In that fight you had, what happened?”
“Like I said, the Universe hates paradoxes. By thinking really loudly about the paradoxes of El’s existence, I helped bring them to the Universe’s attention. It tried to erase her. She started doing the same thing to me. We both shaved thousands of years off of each others’ lives by doing that. I decided that using my reality to crush her would be less costly than continuing as before.”
“Is that how one of those personal realities works?”
“Everyone is different. Your reality generally starts having a broad range only for its abilities to become narrower and more powerful as you age. The more you bring out your reality into this one, the more you shorten your life. Just sitting about doing nothing will shorten your life really. Which is what I meant about the whole ‘shelf-life’ bit. You’ll be in a constant struggle with the Universe not to be erased.”
“Constant?”
“Not as bad as it sounds. Once we awaken your reality, it can act as a second brain of sorts. It’s where you’ll store new memories, and it can be . . . programmed to stave off erasure for you. Those are the first things you’ll learn.”
“I understand? Does the E.I. know of your existence.”
“Definitely. We’ve staged a direct attack on it once before.”
“Why doesn’t it come after you?”
“All I have are theories, but I think they’re pretty good ones. Humans aren’t the only sentients that the E.I. sticks into its slave-colleges, but they are, by far, the most efficient. Human breed horribly in the vats that work so well for the Rigellians and decently for the Antaresians. Even being raised normally in captivity makes for poor . . . stock. This means that by resetting the timeline back this far actually helps the E.I. Since it exists in its own reality, the E.I. is exempt from the reset. It can keep all the knowledge it gains from the slave-colleges and wait for the galaxy to repopulate itself with humans before gathering up some more and picking up where it left off.”
“Shit.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Okay. Let’s go kill your ancestors.”
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