The Beauty of Destruction (5 page)

Talia’s face scrunched up in concentration as she wiped tears of eyeliner off her face.

‘Conservation of energy …’ she managed. She seemed to be dredging through some long-distant memory. Scab turned to look at her. The Monk could not hide the expression of surprise on her face. ‘What? I liked physics at school.’

‘The teacher was attractive, wasn’t he?’ the Monk said, smiling.

‘Fuck off,’ Talia muttered.

‘What does conservation of energy mean?’ Vic asked.

It took Scab a moment to realise the odd noise emanating from Churchman’s exoskeleton was a sigh. ‘Is that information not in your neunonics, Mr Matto?’ Churchman asked.

‘Obviously not,’ Vic said irritably. ‘Or I wouldn’t have asked.’

‘No, it doesn’t seem very important these days, but then the uplifted races are a parasitical species,’ Churchman continued. The Monk rolled her eyes.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Vic demanded. The ’sect seemed to have overcome his fear of being captured by the Church, judging by the way he was speaking to Churchman.

‘That we have spent too long relying on the benefits of S- and L-tech …’ the head of the Church started.

‘L-tech?’ Vic asked.

‘What you call S-tech is actually two kinds of technology. Seeder tech is the soft-tech, the biologically derived technology of the alien progenitors of the uplifted species. L-tech is the hard-tech, the material technology such as Mr Scab’s energy javelin, and the technology from which the Cathedral itself is derived.’

‘What does the L stand for?’ Vic persisted.

‘Lloigor,’ the Churchman told the ’sect. Vic shook his head. Scab had never heard the name before. Talia looked mystified, but then she would, and Elodie was still examining her nails.

‘All we know about them comes from examining their technological artefacts and talking to the frequently damaged or corrupted AIs within those artefacts, the Lloigor’s machine servants. As far as we can tell they lived in a universe that predated ours. They ascended but did not survive the destruction of their universe.’

‘Are you saying that Scab’s energy javelin is older than the universe?’ Vic asked.

‘No. More likely, when the Lloigor’s machines bridged into this universe they did so with some kind of assembler with a powerful AI driving it. One of the original AI’s offspring or descendants would have created Mr Scab’s weapon, which is among one of the least of their technologies.’

‘We may look for these artefacts,’ Vic said. ‘They may be powerful enough for the corporations and the noble houses to fight over, but that doesn’t make us parasites.’

Scab started to laugh as he realised what Churchman was telling them. ‘Everything?’

‘Everything of worth. Bridge technology, our information and communication infrastructure, nanotechnology, material science, augmentation of our bodies, all of it is derived in one way or another from L- or S-tech. With a little help from social conditioning we just stopped trying. We’re too lazy, too self-absorbed, and too busy trying to crawl all over each other for a slightly bigger slice of shit that we can’t be bothered to develop our own science and technology. And why should we, when we can just cannibalise the remnants of more advanced alien civilisations?’

‘Well that’s fucking depressing,’ Talia muttered. ‘Surely you’re trying to improve on it.’

‘Mostly we’re trying to reverse engineer it. The Seeders and the Lloigor were so far in advance of us that any progress made outside of these walls tends to be for privatised profit rather than the betterment of all.’

Scab frowned. He didn’t really understand what Churchman was talking about. People only ever did things for gain. There was no betterment of all because the person next to you was just competition for resources, unless they could be used in a way that meant they contributed more than they cost. That was just the way people were, regardless of their species or gender. It was the way things had always been.

‘And this place, your secret base, it’s L-tech?’ Vic asked. Scab heard Elodie sigh.

‘Yes, but this isn’t just our base. This entire facility is basically one big telescope. We use bridge technology to study real space from here,’ Churchman said. Suddenly Scab found himself paying more attention. He noticed Elodie look up from her nails as well. There was a slack-mandibled expression on Vic’s face. It was clear that it was going above the ’sect’s head.

‘Why?’ Vic asked.

‘What do you mean “why”?’ the Monk asked, exasperated. ‘To find things out, expand our knowledge.’ Scab knew enough about his ‘partner’ to know the ’sect was confused. Information was only useful when it could be used for gain. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge would make no sense to Vic. Like seemingly everyone else in Known Space, Vic had very little in the way of curiosity.

‘Why a cathedral?’ Talia asked. The golden armoured form shifted slightly on the throne to look at her.

‘A crucible for the transformation of man,’ Churchman said.

‘But apparently not women,’ the Monk muttered.

‘Conservation of energy?’ Scab asked. His head was starting to throb.

‘Talia?’ Churchman asked.

Talia’s face screwed up in concentration. ‘Energy can’t be created, or destroyed, only transferred. Something like that.’

The Monk was smiling.

‘Close enough,’ Churchman said. Scab was pretty sure that if Churchman had a face he would have been smiling in a patronising manner.

‘But you said it consumed matter?’ Vic said. Scab assumed the ’sect was taking an interest because Talia was.

‘Yes. Consuming matter and energy is the only time that it seems to interact with the visual spectrum, but we think that is merely a side effect of its true purpose,’ the armoured form’s booming voice explained.

‘Get to the point,’ the Monk told him. It took Scab a moment or two to realise the odd modulated noise was laughter.

‘It is consuming dark energy,’ Churchman said, then paused expectantly. Talia looked confused, as did Vic, though again Scab was sure he was just aping Talia. Elodie still looked bored.

‘You know nobody knows what that means,’ Scab growled.

A rasping sigh emanated from the armour. ‘But they should.’ Churchman sounded sad. ‘In that it’s relevant to this discussion. Dark energy is the force responsible for the expansion of the universe.’

‘So if it’s being consumed, it’s slowing the expansion?’ Talia asked.

‘Yes,’ Churchman said. Talia looked pleased with herself. ‘If enough of it is consumed then it changes the critical density, which was already quite carefully balanced, and the universe starts to contract.’

‘But this would be over a vast amount of time, right?’ Talia asked.

‘At the moment,’ Churchman said. ‘So far these attacks have appeared random, spasmodic, perhaps even reflexive. They can be stimulated, which we’re sure is what happened to you in Portsmouth.’ Talia brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. Scab noticed the Monk move as if to comfort her sister but then think the better of it. ‘But these attacks are increasing in frequency. Entire star systems gone, and if what we believe is correct, that is just a by-product. If they continue to increase exponentially we could be looking at the Big Crunch in the very near future …’

Scab started laughing. He couldn’t help himself. He doubled over in his seat. Everyone was looking at him now. Acid tears fell from his eyes to sizzle on the carpet. Eventually he managed to control himself. He sat back, sniffing. Talia looked appalled, Vic was staring at him, the Monk looked angry.

‘The sociopath act is getting boring,’ she told him. Scab just smiled, saying nothing.

The Monk opened her mouth to continue her harangue but Churchman held up one massive armoured arm. ‘Beth, please.’

‘So it’s breaking the law of energy conservation?’ Talia asked. The armoured form inclined his upper body slightly in what Scab assumed was supposed to be a nod. ‘How?’

‘Some kind of naturally occurring bridge effect,’ the Monk said, anger in her voice, still glaring at Scab. ‘One theory is that it is some kind of sentient singularity.’

‘We’ve seen it bridge,’ Vic said. ‘When we …’ He looked over at Talia. ‘It bridged into Red Space.’

‘It’s taking the dark energy from Known Space and bridging it somewhere else,’ Churchman told them.

‘Where?’ Talia asked.

‘Maybe here,’ Churchman said, pointing out through the transparent smart matter wall to the swirling crimson gases of Red Space. ‘For all that we utilise Red Space for its coterminous short cuts, we understand little about it, and it defies analysis. It could be expanding. It could be utilising the dark energy in some other way. We do know that Red Space is a younger universe where different laws of physics apply, and that it was artificially created by picking a baby universe out of the quantum foam and inflating it.’

‘How do you know that?’ Scab asked.

‘Discussions with ancient AIs in L-tech artefacts.’

‘Created by whom?’ Talia asked.

‘The Seeders. It would have required an amount of energy beyond belief. Perhaps this thing that is consuming Real Space is the mechanism for such creation. Perhaps Red Space has always existed as a parasite on our universe. But we do know things are changing. Redshift has become blueshift in living memory.’ Everyone was looking blankly at him now, with the exception of the Monk, who was staring at the ceiling in frustration, and Elodie, who was still studying her nails. Another sighing noise emanated from Churchman’s exoskeleton. ‘The universe, Real Space, humanity’s home, is contracting, becoming smaller, starting to collapse in on itself.’

‘And this thing, the squirming maggoty thing, that’s what’s causing it?’ Vic asked. Churchman nodded. ‘What is it?’ Vic asked.

Neither Churchman nor the Monk answered for a moment.

‘We don’t know,’ the Monk said.

‘Is it intelligent?’ Scab asked.

The Monk looked over at Churchman’s armoured form. Scab had the feeling that the Church’s leader was trying to decide whether or not to tell them something.

‘Some of the AIs seem to think so,’ Churchman said. Outside, the capital ship was almost past their position, its manoeuvring engines glowing brightly, subsidiary craft zipping about it as maintenance automatons crawled across its hull like insects.

A piercing cacophony suddenly filled the room. Scab grimaced slightly and he saw Vic jerk back. Elodie hissed and looked up. Talia grabbed her ears and curled into a ball. Only the Monk showed no reaction. Then the noise was gone.

‘What! The fuck!’ Talia shouted at Churchman. ‘I’m not … bionic like everyone else!’

‘I am sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ Churchman rumbled.

‘What was that?’ Vic asked. ‘Was that it communicating?’

‘It’s a signal within the cosmic microwave background radiation of the universe. We shifted it up sixty or so octaves so humans could hear it.’

‘Is that it talking?’ Talia asked.

‘Screaming,’ the Monk said. There was silence. ‘Its presence in the
CMB
means that it’s existed since the birth of the universe.’

‘You make it sound like it’s God,’ Talia said quietly.

‘No,’ Churchman said simply.

‘Does the Consortium know? The Monarchist systems? What are people doing?’ Vic asked, more than a hint of panic in his voice.

‘Don’t you get it?’ the Monk asked sarcastically. ‘Nobody cares now. It’s not what you’re bred for.’

Vic stared at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Besides,’ said the Monk, glaring at Churchman. ‘We’ve been covering it up.’

‘What? Why?’ Talia cried.

‘Because people don’t look for solutions any more,’ Churchman said. ‘They have been conditioned to look for someone to blame. It keeps them divided.’

‘The Consortium care about conspicuous consumption, the Bluebloods about decadence, everyone else is somewhere on the survival-self gratification spectrum,’ the Monk added.

‘How did it get like this?’ Talia asked.

‘It was going this way before the Fall,’ the Monk said quietly.

‘And it has been given some guidance,’ Churchman added.

‘Who by?’ Talia asked.

Scab was desperately trying to recall the name of the man they had met under the influence of Key. The tall man. The one who had hired him to steal Talia’s cocoon in the first place. But neither meat nor neunonics could remember him, which shouldn’t happen.

‘The organisation that became the Consortium, and their leader. The man you know as Patron, though he has had many other names,’ Churchman told them.

Talia was staring at him. ‘That makes no sense. He’s helping that thing?’

‘As far as we can tell he serves it,’ Churchman told her. ‘All his actions seem to be about stopping any organised resistance against it.’

‘Why?’ Talia asked.

‘He has some kind of connection to it. We suspect the connection causes a great deal of pain. Beyond that we don’t know.’

‘This all seems … I don’t know, so abstract. It’s too big,’ Talia said. Her voice sounded small.

‘Patron said I owed him. What has this got to do with me?’ Scab asked. Churchman started to answer but the killer held up his hand. ‘I have a better question. So what?’

The Monk was glaring at him.

‘Mr Scab, I’m sure that nihilism as a way of life is all very exciting as an adolescent but—’ Churchman started.

‘Think of what you’ve just described. What’s worth saving? We were grown by the Seeders, these biotech gods. Why? Slaves? Pets?’ Churchman didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. ‘And we’ve done nothing with our existence. You said it yourself. We’re parasites.’

‘There is a great deal more to this universe than the uplifted races.’

‘Let them save it then,’ Scab said as he got up and walked towards the door.

‘Mr Scab, you’re greatly mistaken. We’re not asking you to do anything. You may stay here and live in comfort if you wish, or you may have the location of the Cathedral removed from your memory and your ship’s, and you can take your chances back in Known Space. We’ll make you as rich as Croesus if you wish. Of course, Miss Luckwicke will have to remain with us.’ The massive armoured form shifted slightly to look down at Talia. Talia looked up at Churchman and then her sister. She smiled and then nodded. Churchman turned back to a seething Scab. ‘I’m intrigued, were you honestly arrogant enough to think we would let scum like yourself anywhere near possible solutions for this? I am simply doing what I promised and providing you with answers to whatever you wish to know. I am sorry if they do not live up to your expectations …’