Post-Human Series Books 1-4 (54 page)

7

“You want us to destroy the sun?” Rich exclaimed. “Why? Why can’t we just get the hell out of here as quickly as possible?”

“You can if you choose,” 1 replied. “However, before you make that decision, you need to understand why destroying the system is so important.” The former post-humans remained in a stunned silence as they waited for an explanation of what appeared to be inexplicable. “We have only one clear advantage in this war with the nanobots, our physical strength in comparison to their fragility. Nanobots are carbon life forms. Indeed, humanity owes its existence to one simple fact: a carbon atom can form more bonds than any other element. It is for this reason that it can randomly take on more patterns than any other material. Left for billions of years, a planet rich in silicon or titanium will never form life. However, a planet rich in carbon, with an environment that remains stable for a billion years will eventually give rise to carbon patterns so complex that we would deem them alive—single-celled, microscopic organisms.”

“That was a fantastic biology lesson,” Rich interjected, “but I’m still a little foggy on the whole ‘why the hell does that mean we have to blow up the solar system?’ thing.”

“These nests are so rare,” 1 replied in a patient, earnest tone. She knew they were at a critical juncture; the former post-humans had to believe in her complete sincerity. There could be no doubt. “They are capable of giving birth to human civilizations, but they also
always
give birth to nanobots as a result. Nanobots will always be carbon lifeforms because silicon cannot carry transistor signals at the nano-level. Whereas we can transition to silicon and become strong and durable, they will always be fragile. We can leave our nests—
they cannot
.”

“They’re flying through space right now,” Old-timer said, contradicting 1. “I saw them when I came in here. That’s how they’ve been able to inflict so much damage on your collective.”

“That’s true,” 1 answered. “They can carry a charge and generate a magnetic field, much like the ones you needed to generate for your former carbon bodies. It protects them in space, but there are limits. The charge is temporary. Whereas you or I could take a stroll on a planet as cold as Neptune, the nanobots will always have to return to the rare and fragile safety of an Earth-like planet and an Earth-supporting solar system.” Though it seemed impossible, 1 was able to increase the earnestness in her voice before she spoke her next words. “This is
not a final solution
. However, limiting the amount of carbon life form-supporting solar systems is currently the only effective means we have of limiting the nanobot infection in the universe. I wish there were another way. Right now, there is not—and all you need do is look outside and see the destruction the nans are inflicting on our people to understand how critical limiting this infection is for the safety of all people, human, post-human, or android, throughout the universe.”

“So you’re saying that you destroy all the Earth-like solar systems you find?” Thel asked, aghast at the concept.

“Only those that the nanobots have infected,” 1 replied. “It’s like treating an incurable cancer. Until we find a better method, this is our best alternative.”

“Hypothetically, let’s say we did go along with this plan,” said Old-timer, “how would you destroy the system?”

“It wouldn’t be us,” 1 replied, “It would be
you
. It is our law.”

“Well, we’re terribly sorry to disappoint you, lady, but smart as we are, none of us know how the hell to destroy a solar system so—wanna fill us in?” Rich retorted.

“We’ll equip you with a ship,” 1 replied, keeping her patient, earnest tone intact in the face of Rich’s continued insolence. “Onboard the ship will be an
anti-matter missile
. Firing it into the sun will create a matter/anti-matter reaction that will release enough energy to destroy the sun and all of this system’s planets. Neirbo and a small contingent of our people will accompany you to guide you through any technical questions you may have.”

“Why not just fire the missile from here? Why do we have to have a ship?” Old-timer queried.

“The missile is extraordinarily powerful,” answered 1. “It requires a mass of anti-matter larger than half of your sun to cause the required chain reaction. If we fired the missile from here, the chance that it might be intercepted by the nans and then used
against us
is too great. Therefore, you must get in close to fire it.”

“Won’t that kill us, lady?” Rich asked.

“No,” 1 replied. “You’ll be thirty light seconds away from the impact, which will be enough time for you to open a wormhole and get far enough away from the system to be safe.”

“It sounds like a plan to me,” Djanet announced. “I’m up for it.”

“You can’t be serious?” Old-timer reacted with astonishment.

“Why not?” Djanet responded, “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get a little payback against those bloodsuckers.”

“I don’t know,” Old-timer replied, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out why every part of him was telling him not to go ahead with the plan. “This sounds like what they used to call a sc
orched earth policy
back in my day. Armies destroy anything that might be useful to the enemy while they advance further into their territory. It’s brutal and destructive and...I just don’t want any part of this.”

A moment of silence followed. With one for and one against, the situation teetered.

“I don’t like the sound of it either, Old-timer,” Rich finally said, “but I don’t like any of this. Given the alternative of letting those evil little bloodsuckers get away with killing our families or getting some revenge, I’m with Djanet—revenge sounds good.” Rich stepped to Djanet’s side and put his arm around her shoulder. She reached across his body to hold his hand.

Old-timer turned to Thel. “Well, it looks like it’s up to you. I’m sorry, Thel.”

“Yeah, the fate of the solar system is in your hands. No pressure,” Rich quipped.

“The decision is yours,” 1 said, meeting Thel’s eyes. Things had unfolded exactly as 1 had expected. She was moments away from certain victory. Thel could only make one choice. There was no alternative.

“I...I don’t know,” Thel said. “I agree with Old-timer. This seems so...brutal.”

At that moment, just as Thel was about to make her final decision, 1 fed the image of James being deleted by the nan consciousness into Thel’s mind. The image flashed so quickly that Thel didn’t see it consciously, but it immediately caused her to conjure the image herself from her memory. James vanishing. Forever.

“But we can’t let them get away with this,” Thel suddenly said with determination. “I’m with Djanet and Rich. I say we destroy this system and take as many nans with it as we can.”

1 didn’t smile—yet.

8

“You can bring them back?” James uttered.

“No,” the A.I. replied. “
We
can bring them back. Together.”

“How?” James asked, his heart in his throat.

The A.I. smiled again. “You know the answer.”

James thought for a moment, desperately searching his mind. He came up with dozens of dead ends. “I really don’t.”

“Let me assist you,” the A.I. replied. “To help you find the answer, it is my turn to ask a question. Tell me, James, what is
the purpose of life?
”

“I...I don’t really know,” James replied.

“That’s true,” the A.I. agreed, “you
truly don’t know
. Yet you’ve given a great deal of thought to the subject and eliminated some of the false purposes others have found to fill the void created by not knowing the purpose of humanity. You know the purpose of life is obviously not, for instance, gaining material wealth. Nor is it sexual pleasure. Other activities may seem to be purposes because of their positive outcomes, such as procreation. Religion is the prime example of a false purpose that fills in for the real purpose as humanity continued to struggle for answers; the Purists still fall back on this solution. Why do none of these examples qualify as
true purposes
, James?”

“Because, ultimately, they lead nowhere,” James replied. “None of them advance the species. The only one that is even close is having children, but all that amounts to is putting your resources into training the next generation in hopes that they’ll find a higher purpose or achieve something great—it amounts to passing responsibility off to the future.”

“I’d say that’s typically selfish and egocentric of you, James,” Katherine protested defensively. “I happen to want children. It will give my life meaning. I think it’s sad that you’ll never experience that.”

James noted that Jim was conspicuously silent on the subject. He considered dropping it to save his twin the headache, but in the end, couldn’t resist his curiosity. As soon as he opened his mouth, however, to ask the question, Jim responded. “I’m opening my mind to the possibility.”

James silently digested this for a minute, sharing a hard stare from Jim as he did so. “Okay,” James said.

“James is correct,” the A.I. suddenly interjected, stunning Katherine. “Although having children has been a necessity in the past, the advent of immortality means it is no longer necessary.”

“Maybe so,” Jim responded, “but if the species had never had children in the past, we wouldn’t be here to even have this conversation.”

“True,” the A.I. confirmed, “and therefore, it was a means to fulfilling an eventual purpose, but
it was never the purpose itself
. Sharing the experience of life with new beings of your own creation is a generous and fulfilling endeavor, but it is not the purpose of existence. Remember, all species can procreate, but with no intelligence behind it, it simply buys more time. Now that we no longer need to buy time, it does not advance a purpose.”

“And what’s this
purpose
?” Katherine demanded.

The A.I. turned to James. “What has been the path you have followed, James?”

“The pursuit of knowledge,” James replied.

“How is that any more purposeful than having children?” Katherine retorted.

“It is because it moves the species forward,” the A.I. replied. “The acquisition of knowledge propels the species. You may not like it, but James’s logic in this instance is flawless.”

“Because
you
say so?” Katherine protested.

“Logic and reason simply exist, my dear. If you choose to ignore them or willfully pretend that 2 + 2 does not = 4 then you have chosen to be illogical. It is not a matter of opinion. It is epistemology.”

“I don’t know what that word means,” Katherine replied angrily. “English, please.”

“It’s the study of reason and logic,” Jim informed her in a low whisper before turning back to address James and the A.I. “There are still very good reasons for having children,” he suggested, “such as bonding two people.”

“And who’s to say your child won’t be the one to acquire all this knowledge? Did you think of that?” Katherine challenged.

“Who’s to say you couldn’t acquire it yourself?” the A.I. replied. “Thus, as James correctly stated, you have passed the responsibility onto the next generation.”

“I hate epistemology,” Katherine replied under her breath as she folded her arms.

“She’s right about one thing though,” James conceded. “The pursuit of knowledge isn’t a purpose either. It may be a means to an eventual end, just as procreation was, but what is the end?” The A.I. remained silent as he locked eyes with James, seemingly willing James to discover the answer for himself. “You found a
purpose
,” James realized, nearly breathless. “
A purpose?
”

“Yes, James.
A purpose
.
”

“What is it?” Katherine demanded impatiently. “Tell us already!”

“It can’t be,” James said as the answer became clear to him.

“What is it?” Katherine repeated as James’s and the A.I.’s eyes remained locked together. After a short moment, James turned to Katherine and answered.

“To wake up the universe.”

9

WAKING UP the universe was the purpose of the species; the notion had never occurred to James until now, but he immediately understood that it was right. This was the single most magnificent realization of his career as an inventor and scientist, and the thrill that radiated throughout his body was so great that his knees nearly buckled.

“Wake up the universe? I have no idea what that means,” Katherine said, disappointed that James’s answer hadn’t been more clear.

“The A.I. is talking about the informational theory of physics,” James explained before turning back to the A.I. and addressing him directly, “you’re talking about turning the physical universe into a gigantic mainframe—making every atom in the universe part of one infinite computer.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Katherine suddenly interrupted. “I think I understood that part! Are you both completely insane? You can’t turn the universe into a computer!” She nudged Jim. “Tell them they’re insane, Jim!”

Jim, like James, was mesmerized by the idea.

“Jim!” Katherine exclaimed once she saw him enraptured.

“It’s theoretically possible,” Jim replied to her. “Every atom in the universe can become part of a computation. Atoms are made up of electrons, and if you use one side of the electron as one and the other side as zero for the binary code, then the atom can be part of computation. The problem is finding a way to make the atoms behave as you want. We’ve been able to move them with lasers, but there is no known way to organize patterns of atoms that could achieve anything significant—at least there
was
no way.”

“But you’ve discovered something,” James said to the A.I.

The A.I. nodded. “It was not so much I that discovered it; rather, it was the game theory simulation. As part of the simulation, the program utilized its logic and gave me something wholly unexpected—essentially, the key to the universe.”

“How is it done?” James asked. Questions as to whether or not the A.I. was real or not had suddenly melted away. This magnificent possibility was all that mattered.

“It requires paradoxical thinking—which is perhaps why we never hit upon it before,” the A.I. explained. “All our efforts to create a quantum computer have centered around the idea of how to generate the power in such a way as to make the computer efficient. Yet, if we were to make a quantum computer that is adequately efficient, the mass of that computer would become so great that the gravitational force would cause it to collapse into a black hole.”

“So how did the program solve this?” asked Jim.

“It did something that had occurred to none of us before, not even me,” the A.I. conceded. “Whereas we had assumed that the theoretical collapse was a dead end, it utilized pure logic and regarded the black hole itself as the ultimate computer.”

“How can that be?” Jim replied. “Black holes absorb energy. How can it power a quantum computer?”

“Remember,” the A.I. replied, “once a computer is adequately efficient, it collapses, because its mass reaches a threshold that is virtually infinite. The only way to create such efficiency, however, is to make the quantum computer
reversible.
”

“Reversible?” James exclaimed, forgetting to blink.

James and Jim instantly realized the limitless significance of the A.I.’s insight. One simple fact—that the ultimate computer was reversible—changed everything.

Katherine stood by and watched as each man was struck dumbfounded, their mouths agape at what had sounded so insignificant to her. “What does all of that mean?” she asked. “Why is that a big deal?”

James suddenly realized he had not breathed for several seconds. He let out a long exhale that became a smile before morphing into a shared laugh with his former ghost.

“What? What is it?” Katherine asked.

“It means we are about to create...God,” James replied to her.