Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  Back in the VR, Zach continued.

  “When I left the military, I didn’t believe much of what they were doing either was necessary or had chances of long-term success. I saw too much bureaucratic shit with the military or civilians doing stupid things at the behest of politicians who had no idea what they were doing. When the CIA recruited me, I hoped the different organization would focus more on the mission and less on politics. In retrospect, I was naïve, although in fairness, I guess I lasted longer in the CIA than in the military because it matched my own predilections for solving problems more than the army did.”

  “Tell me more about your specific experiences in this CIA,” said Simeon.

  “No, I think it’s your turn, Simeon. This is supposed to be an exchange, and so far I’ve done a fair amount.”

  “I am not clear what I am supposed to say,” said Simeon. “Obviously, I have not had the same types of experiences as you.”

  “No, but is there knowledge you possess that would be of interest to us? For example, we assume you originated directly or indirectly from an intelligent race somewhere in the galaxy. Tell us something about them—what they look like, how old are they, how are they different from humans, what are their motivations, and why are they interested in humans?”

  “I am afraid there is nothing I can tell you, Zach. The beings responsible for what you refer to as the Object are hidden from me. I know this may seem strange, but that knowledge was either somehow lost through time or was deliberately withheld.”

  “I’ll repeat myself. Am I imagining things, or does Simeon open up to Zach more than to anyone else?” said Sinclair.

  “Sure seems that way,” said Mueller.

  Huxler shifted in his chair. “Well . . . I had intended to hold off mentioning it until I checked some more, but I’ve been going back through transcripts of past sessions, and I think Simeon initially interacted very similar, if not identical, to all four of our VR users—Zach, Andrew, Chunhua, and Ralph. However, as the weeks went on, I believe there are distinct patterns. With Chunhua and Ralph, it’s a vigorous conversation that stays within certain bounds, usually related to the user’s interests. Major Jefferson seems to be at a stalemate with Simeon as far as getting new information, but if I was dealing only with humans, I would suggest that Simeon has an affinity for Zach. What that means, I don’t know.”

  “Well,” said Sinclair, “keep at it and see if you can figure out how to get Simeon to open up to the others as much as he seems to be doing with Zach. But what about his not knowing the origin?”

  “If Simeon’s telling the truth, I suspect the lack of knowledge is deliberate. The originators may have chosen to hide who they are and where they’re located. Why could be for any number of reasons. They could be a naturally timid race, not wanting outside contact. They might have real or imagined enemies they want to hide from. Then there is always our fallback that there are things we’ll never understand because, you know, they’re aliens.”

  “Simeon, could you speculate why the originators would deliberately withhold information?” asked Zach.

  “That is all it would be,” answered Simeon, “a speculation based on no evidence. Any possibility is no more supported than any other option.”

  “But you have a purpose,” said Zach. “After all, you’ve already told us you’re here to help, though exactly what form of help you haven’t shared with us.”

  “The time will come, Zach,” said Simeon, “but not yet.”

  “Even if you don’t know who the creators are, Simeon, your existence means there is or was another sentient civilization in the universe besides us here on Earth.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, Simeon, we’ve established that there are at least two sentient races, ourselves and your originators. Is there any reason not to think there are many more?” Asked Zach.

  “A reasonable assumption,” said Simeon.

  “But is it more than merely an assumption?” said Zach. “Do you possess knowledge of more than two civilizations and how many?”

  Simeon’s avatar smiled. Zach was so surprised, he stared for almost a minute. It was the first time in one of his sessions that Simeon had smiled.

  “Simeon, I asked—”

  “Yes, it is logical to assume sentience has arisen innumerable times. However, I have direct evidence of only six times.”

  “Six—”

  Zach was momentarily jolted by Simeon’s admission, but there was an implication.

  “You say six times. If I assume those times include your creators and humans, does that mean you have experience of four other sentient races?”

  “That is correct, Zach.”

  “Can you tell me something about those other races?”

  “None at this time. Perhaps later.”

  “How much later, Simeon? And what is the criteria for when the time would be right?”

  “I can only say later,” said Simeon. “That is all the information I have.”

  “Let me see if I understand correctly, Simeon. Although it’s possible you will tell us things about other sentient races sometime in the future, it’s not certain, meaning you might never tell us. It also means you don’t know the criteria for telling us more or don’t have control over the process. Am I correct?”

  “That is correct, Zach.”

  “Will you be giving us any advice about anything we can do to help you make that decision?”

  “I have already stated all the information I have. I believe I have met my obligation for sharing. It should now be your turn.”

  “Move on, Zach,” urged Huxler from the monitoring room. He turned to Sinclair and Mueller. “Simeon tends to shut down if he’s pressed on a topic he believes has been concluded.”

  Mueller shook his head. “Not always shuts down. Sometimes he becomes less revealing, even if he continues conversing. But I agree. Zach should move on. We’ve already learned enough to make this one of the most important sessions so far. My God. Think of it. Simeon has confirmed other sentient races. Before, like Zach said, we could only be sure of the Object’s creators and ourselves. Now we know of at least four other cases and who knows how many more?”

  “Maybe so,” said Sinclair. “But remember we’re still taking everything at Simeon’s word. We all would like to believe we hear only the truth, but until we get some corroborating evidence, we always have to take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

  “Fair enough,” said Zach. “I left the army because . . . ”

  For the next twenty minutes, Zach summarized his CIA career, interspersed with Simeon’s questions. Zach expected Simeon to ask more details about combat, but it never came up again. Instead, Simeon focused on why the military action was happening, what Zach thought of the opposition forces, and how Zach might have thought to settle whatever the dispute was without resorting to military action.

  The session was almost over when Simeon said, “The session is about over, and I believe it is your turn to ask me something. I will answer if it is possible.”

  “Simeon, you say you can’t give us details about the alien races you know of. Could you tell us if some aspects of human civilization are similar elsewhere without getting into specific details?”

  “Your question is too broad, Zach. All civilizations must have similarities, such as the individuals must eat, reproduce, and think. I suggest you ask about specific aspects.”

  “Okay. I described for you my experience in aspects of war among humans, and I assume Andrew did something similar. War has been a constant feature of human civilizations for as far back as our recorded history goes. Many people believe war is inherent in humans, something so much a part of humanity that they doubt it could ever be overcome. But what about other races? Do all races experience war, or is it something unique to humans? Or if not unique, is it something that occurs commonly?”

  “By war, you mean large-scale organized violent conflict,” said Simeon. “No, humans are not unique
, though I do not have a large-enough sample size to know how common war is with sentience. However, based on the small sample, it supports that the lack of war is less common.”

  “If that’s true, Simeon, what is your opinion of the validity of a sentient race engaging in warfare?”

  “Opinion? Why do you think I have an opinion, Zach?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know. I guess I’m assuming any intelligent being has an opinion.”

  “And am I an intelligent being?”

  “How the hell do I know?” said Zach. “A computer, an artificial intelligence, or what in God’s name you are, then you must evaluate. Isn’t an opinion just another way of saying an evaluation was made?”

  “If we use that as the definition of opinion, then yes, I can evaluate whether warfare is necessary, although I am unable to evaluate the philosophical or moral aspects such as humans might do. However, from a purely logical standpoint, I would say warfare is necessary for self-preservation if there are no other options. It should be obvious that justified warfare should be between an entire sentient race and an external enemy. It is more difficult to justify warfare among factions of a single race.”

  “Am I to infer you have knowledge of warfare between sentient races?”

  “No, Zach. That is not the intent of what I said, and I find we have reached the limit of what I can say at this time. This is also time to end this very stimulating conversation, and I expect we will continue another time.”

  CHAPTER 30

  BOBBY AND SIMEON

  Jill

  What started as routine as any day could be at the top of the world took an early turn when Jill walked into Bre’s office, expecting to help with the scheduled monthly warehouse inventory. Instead of finding Bre at her desk, she saw Huxler waiting for her.

  “Oh . . . Dr. Huxler. I thought Bre would be here. Have you seen her?”

  “Please, Jill, I keep telling you to call me Wilbur.”

  She blushed. “Somehow, the words catch in my throat. I always think of you as the shrink ‘doctor.’”

  “I’ll help,” said Huxler. “Repeat after me. ‘Oh . . . Wilbur. I thought Bre would be here.’”

  “All right, all right. I’ll try. ‘Oh . . . Wilbur. I thought Bre would be here.’” Jill put a hand over her mouth and laughed.

  “See. Didn’t hurt a bit, did it? Now, as to why I’m sitting here waiting for you. I hear you’re training to use the VR system. How do you feel about it?”

  Jill turned the chair at her workstation and sat facing Huxler. “It was definitely weird at first. I don’t think I was able to ‘walk’ until the fourth or fifth session. Then, for whatever reason, it went easier. Not easy, mind you, but easier than before.

  “And that was just in the first room. You know . . . the almost empty cartoonish room with only a few pieces of furniture. When Dr. Mueller asked if—,” she stopped and looked sharply at Huxler, whose mouth crinkled.

  “Uh . . . Howard . . . changed the session to the parlor, as he called it, everything went backward like it was at first. I was either frozen or kept bumping into things or falling.” She smiled. “Falling was also weird. I knew I was floating in that tank but was falling at the same time. I guess I adjusted, though, because by the end of the session I was able to move around better.”

  “It was your brain learning to ignore what you knew to be true and accepting the VR input. It’s not something everyone’s brain can do, and your brain is better at it than most people’s.

  “Which brings us to why I’m here waiting for you. Simeon has been agitating to interact with more people, and Howard believes you’re doing well enough with the VR system to make the jump. How would you like to meet Simeon today?”

  Jill’s throat constricted, and every muscle tensed.

  “Ah . . . umm . . . ,” was all she could utter. She put a hand to her throat and coughed several times while she thought of what to say. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Think you can do it? It’s not mandatory if you don’t believe you’re capable.”

  She bristled. Huxler’s words triggered memories of her father always doubting her ability whenever she tried something new.

  “I’m ready,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

  An hour later, Ralph’s face was the last thing she saw before the VR helmet settled into place. After running through a checklist via voiceover with Ralph, she felt the vibration as the chamber door closed above her.

  “Here we go,” said Ralph. “We’ll turn on the VR after Wilbur talks to you.”

  “Jill, we need you to relax a little,” said Huxler. “Your heart rate is racing too much. I’m having Ralph pipe in some meditation music, and I want you to focus on it as much as you can.”

  “And it’s supposed to relax me?” she said, incredulous.

  “Just a little. Remember when you were first learning to use the system and how movements came more natural the longer you were in the session? That’s just a matter of forgetting to be nervous.”

  She took three deep breaths, holding each for several seconds before exhaling. “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Six minutes later, Huxler spoke to her again. “Nice job, Jill. Your heart rate is much lower. I’m signaling Ralph to turn on the VR.”

  Before she could react, she found herself standing in the parlor in the same position and facing the same direction as in all her entries. Ralph had told her it reduced the jolt of entry to know what to expect in those first seconds.

  She faced a wall of shelves with books, knick-knacks, and a spider plant hanging from a top shelf. She could read a few book titles, notably Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Foundation by Isaac Asimov, and A Game of Thrones. Other books had no titles on the spine or nonsense symbols impersonating text. When asked later, Ralph confessed to adding titles to his favorite books to give the setting a more realistic feel.

  Cautiously, she turned, walked to an upholstered chair, and sat facing the single door at the other side of the room. A minute passed. Her pulse spiked when the latch turned and the door opened to reveal Simeon.

  “Hello, Jill Hardesty. May I come in?”

  Her first words were a jumble of sounds. She coughed, swallowed, and tried again.

  “Yes, Simeon. Please come in.” She wondered if her voice sounded as squeaky to Simeon and the staff monitoring the session as it did to her.

  He walked over and sat in the other chair, facing her ten feet away.

  “I look forward to learning about you. May I call you Jill, or would you rather I used your last name and a title?”

  “Jill is fine, and can I call you Simeon?” she said in a giddy moment.

  Simeon didn’t respond immediately, which was unusual. Both Jill and the people monitoring the session had the same thought. Is Simeon startled?

  “That is fine, Jill. After all, Simeon is my only name. Sorry for being slow to answer, but I was considering whether you were telling a joke. It is a form of communication I do not always identify correctly.”

  “No, it was just something that popped into my head,” said Jill. “I’m happy to meet you.”

  “The same with me. I understand that humans are typically uneasy the first time they talk with me here in the virtual reality. Maybe it would help you if you tell me things about yourself?”

  For the next twenty minutes, Jill rambled on about her life. In retrospect later, she winced at how she’d talked almost nonstop, with Simeon interrupting only a few times with questions. Her monologue ended when Simeon spoke as she took a breath.

  “Thank you, Jill. It may be time for you to ask something from me. That is usually how we structure these exchanges. Do you have any questions?”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t have questions, but the conundrum was which one to ask at this moment? What finally came out was not among the candidate questions she had wondered about or heard that the other staff had asked.

  “What do you want, Simeon?”

  “I want
to help, Jill. The others asked that question, and I gave the same answer each time. Were you not aware of my previous answers?”

  “Uh . . . well . . . I’m not part of the group that usually talks with you, so I don’t know everything that’s gone before today.”

  “That is good. It is better if I am asked questions when humans have not compared previous conversations. Otherwise, I could not be sure whether the questions were spontaneous or planned.”

  Not sure how to answer, Jill returned to her question. “You say you want to help. Help who to do what?”

  “I want to help humans in your future development.”

  “But what exactly do you think you can do to help us?”

  “I do not yet know.”

  “I’m confused. You say you want to help us, but you don’t know how?”

  “Yes, Jill, I can see how you might be confused. All I can say is that it is important that I understand humans better.”

  “Well . . . there certainly are ways we could use help. What about stopping wars and other forms of violence?”

  “I am afraid that is an internal matter for humans beyond the capabilities of anyone except humans. Any action I take can go outside logic or rational explanations unless there is a near comprehensive understanding of a being’s psyche—a difficult enough task for any single human and arguably impossible for your entire species.”

  “But surely there are general characteristics we all share. You know . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as she struggled to define what the set of general characteristics might be to totally define all humans.

  “General characteristics will not suffice, Jill. There would have to be a model of humans comprehensive enough to allow rational proposals that would affect the entire species—or at least the vast majority. Not an easy endeavor.”

  “If you say you want to help but don’t seem to know how, what is your plan?”

  “I will wait until I know what to do.”