The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  His first impression was that half of them were boiling their contents. Bubbles fizzed away in their open tops. And the air was so pungent, it made his eyes water. He recognized the scent of rotting or fermenting fruit, but so much stronger than he’d ever smelled before.

  After a moment he realized there was no heater or fire in the room even though the air was a lot warmer than outside. The pots really were fermenting—vigorously. When he took a peek in one, the sticky mass it held reminded him of jam, but before the fruit was properly pulped.

  Tyzak pulled one of the pots toward him and bent over it, opening his clam mouth wide enough to cover the top. The Delivery Man had a brief glimpse of hundreds of little tooth mandibles wiggling before the Anomine closed his mouth and sucked the contents down in a few quick gulps.

  “Would you like to sample some of my >no direct translation: cold-cook conserve/soup<?” Tyzak asked. “I know the sharing of food ritual has significance to your kind. There must be one here harmless enough for you to ingest.”

  “No, thank you. So you do remember members of my species visiting this world before?”

  “We hold the stories dear.” Tyzak picked up another pot and closed his mouth around it.

  “No one else seems interested in me except for the younger villagers.”

  “I will tell the story of you at our gathering. The story will spread from village to village as we cogather. Within twenty years the world will know your story. From that moment on you will be told and retold to the new generations. You will never be lost to us, star traveler.”

  “That is gratifying to know. You must know a lot of stories, Tyzak.”

  “I do. I am old enough to have heard many. So many that they now begin to fade from me. This is why I tell them again and again, so they are not lost.”

  “Stupid,” Gore observed. “They’re going to lose a lot of information like that. We know they used to have a culture of writing; you can’t develop technology without basic symbology, especially math. Why dump that? Their history is going to get badly distorted this way; that’s before it dies out altogether.”

  “Don’t worry,” the Delivery Man told him. “What we need is too big to be lost forever; they’ve certainly still got that.”

  “Yeah, sure; the suspense is killing me.”

  “I would hear stories of your ancestors,” the Delivery Man said to Tyzak. “I would like to know how it was that they left this world, this universe.”

  “All who visit us upon this world wish this story above everything else. I have many other stories to tell. There is one of Gazuk, whose bravery saved five youngsters from drowning when a bridge fell. I listened to Razul tell her own story of holding a flock of >no direct translation: wolf-equivalent< at bay while her sisters birthed. Razul was old when I attended that cogathering, but his words remain true. There are stories of when Fozif flew from this world atop a machine of flame to walk upon Ithal, our neighboring planet, the first of our kind ever to do such a thing. That is our oldest story; from that grows all stories of our kind thereafter.”

  “Which do you want to tell me?”

  “Every story of our beautiful world. That is what we live for. So that everything may be known to all of us.”

  “But isn’t that contrary to what you are? Knowledge lies in the other direction, the technology and science you have turned from.”

  “That is the story of machines. That story has been told. It is finished. We tell the stories of ourselves now.”

  “I think I understand. It is not what was achieved by your ancestors but the individuals who achieved it.”

  “You grow close to our story, to living with us. To hear the story of what we are today, you must hear all our stories.”

  “I regret that my time on your world is short. I would be grateful for any story you can tell me about your ancestors and the way they left this universe behind. Do you know where this great event took place?”

  Tyzak gulped down another pot. He went over to the chests and opened the hinged lids. Small, bulging cloth sacks were taken out and carried over to the benches. “There is a story that tells of the great parting which will never fade from me. It is most important to us, for that is how our kind was split. Those who left and those who proclaimed their allegiance to our planet and the destiny it had birthed us for. To this time we regret the separation, for we will never now be rejoined.”

  “My people are also divided into many types,” the Delivery Man said as he watched Tyzak open the sacks. Various fruits and roots were taken out and dropped into pots. Water from a large urn at the center of the benches was added. Finally, the alien sprinkled in some blue-white powder from a small sachet. The contents of the pots began to bubble.

  “I will listen to your stories of division,” Tyzak said. “They connect to me.”

  “Thank you. And the story of the place where your ancestors left? I would very much like to know it, to visit the site itself.”

  “We will go there.”

  That wasn’t quite the reply the Delivery Man was expecting. “That is good news. Shall I call for my ship? It can take us anywhere on this world.”

  “I understand your offer is intended to be kindness. However, I do not wish to travel on your ship. I will walk to the place of separation.”

  “Oh, crap,” Gore said. “This could take months, years. Just try and get the damn monster to tell you where it is. Tell him you’ll meet him there if necessary.”

  “I regret I am not able to walk very far on your world,” the Delivery Man said. “I need my own kind of food. Perhaps we could meet at the place.”

  “It is barely two days away,” Tyzak said. “Can you not travel that far?”

  “Yes, I can travel that far.”

  “Hot damn,” Gore was saying. “Your new friend must mean the city at the far end of the valley. There’s nowhere else it can be.”

  The Delivery Man’s secondary routines were pulling files out of his lacuna and splashing them across his exovision. “We checked a building there four days ago, right next to a big plaza on the west side. You went in. There was an exotic matter formation, some kind of small wormhole stabilizer. Nonoperational. We assumed it was connected to an orbital station or something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “That just shows you how stupid it is to assume anything about aliens,” Gore said. “We’ve found fifty-three exactly like it and dismissed them all.”

  “They were all in different cities,” the Delivery Man said, reviewing a planetary map in his exovision. “Well distributed geographically. I suppose they could be an abandoned transport network like the old Trans-Earth-Loop.”

  “Yeah, that was before your time, but I used it often enough. Whatever, I’m on my way to the city now. I’m going to scan and analyze that mother down to its last negative atom. I’ll find out what the hell it does before you’ve had lunch.”

  Tyzak walked through into one of the back rooms. The Delivery Man considered it a minor miracle the old alien didn’t bash its antennae on the ceiling. But each movement was deft, and it ducked under the doorway without pausing.

  “Lucky we picked a village close to the actual elevation mechanism,” the Delivery Man responded. He couldn’t believe it himself. Probability was stacked way too high against such a thing.

  “About time we got a break,” Gore replied.

  The Delivery Man knew damn well he didn’t believe it, either. Perhaps Tyzak is just going to use the wormhole to take us to the elevation mechanism. Maybe that’s what the transport mechanism is for. No, that’s stupid. If he won’t use a starship to fly to the city, he’s not going to use a wormhole. Damn!

  The Anomine came back into the main room dressed in what resembled loops of thick cloth dyed in bright colors and embellished with stone beads. It was actually an elaborate garment, the Delivery Man acknowledged, covering the long tapering abdomen while allowing the legs and arms complete freedom of movement.

  They set off straightaway, walk
ing down the slope through the village, then crossing the river on an arched stone bridge that was old enough for the outer stone to be flaking away.

  “How long has your village been here?” the Delivery Man asked.

  “Seven hundred years.”

  The fields and orchards on the other side of the water were neatly tended. Anomine adults moved along the rows of trees, reaching up to snip the fruit stems with their strong upper arm pincer claws. They were mostly the mothers, the Delivery Man guessed from their coloration. The Anomine life cycle followed a simple progression from neutral youngsters to adult female to elder male, with each stage lasting about twenty-five years. It was very unusual for an adult to live past eighty.

  That he simply could not get his head around. He knew they’d had complete mastery of genetic manipulation in the past, giving them the ability to extend their lives. That, too, had been rejected and neutralized so that they could follow their original evolutionary path. There was no human faction that would ever follow such a tenet; even the Naturals went in for good old-fashioned rejuvenation every thirty years. The desire to cling to life was screwed into the human psyche deep beyond any psychoneural profiling to remove.

  Like hope, he thought. I’m carrying on this ridiculous charade of Gore’s because it gives me hope. It’s the only way I know that might possibly deliver me back to Lizzie and the kids. Ozzie alone knows what madness Ilanthe has planned when she reaches the Void, but no one else has any idea how to stop her. If only this wasn’t so … frail. If only I could bring myself to believe in what I’m doing.

  The Delivery Man raised his head. High above, the ancient orbital debris band shimmered faintly through breaks in the cloud, like a motionless strand of silver cirrus. He sighed at the sight. Signs and portents in the sky, that’s what I’m searching for now. How pathetic is that? And I think the Anomine are weak and strange because they reembrace their primitive life. A life that doesn’t threaten the galaxy. A life which doesn’t tear fathers from their families.

  He opened the link to Gore. “What are you going to do after? If we win?”

  “Get back out of this goddamn meat animal for a start, back into ANA, where I can think properly again.”

  “But isn’t that the problem? Look what our evolutionary drive has pushed us to.”

  “You think we’re suffering overreach, sonny? You think arrogance is the root of all this?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Ha, in a way: for fucking certain. That’s why we need to keep going, keep pushing the human development boundary. All of us need to boost our responsibility and rationality genes to the maximum. It’s the only way to survive peacefully in a galaxy as dangerous as this one.”

  “That’s an old argument.”

  “And completely valid. Maybe the one argument that has remained relevant for our entire history. Without education and understanding, the barbarians would have outnumbered us and swarmed the city gates a long time ago.”

  “She’s making a pretty good go of it right now, isn’t she?”

  “Ilanthe? Typical case, educated way, way beyond her IQ, with ambition stronger than ability. She’s just another cause fascist, son, and that’s the worst kind; they always know they’re right. Anyone who dissents for whatever reason is evil and an enemy, existing only to be crushed.”

  He wouldn’t have believed it could happen, but the Delivery Man actually felt himself smile as he walked on through the alien groves and meadows. “So very different from your liberalism, huh?”

  “You got it, sonny.”

  Before long the cultivated fields gave way to the valley’s tangled grassland. Tyzak chose a small path that curved around to run parallel with the major river several miles away. That put the Delivery Man facing the giant empty city that straddled the mouth of the valley; its grandiose towers and arresting domes were barely visible through the late-morning haze.

  That vision. The clean air. The bright sunlight. Walking to a definite goal. Whatever the reason, he actually began to feel a sense of purpose again. Not confidence exactly, but it would do for a start.

  “I can go faster,” he told Tyzak.

  The big alien started to lengthen its stride, bouncing along in an effortless rhythm. The Delivery Man matched it, relishing the urgency their speed brought. I’m doing it, he told Lizzie and the kids silently. I’m coming for you, I promise.

  Ozzie didn’t let anything slip about his opinion. Myraian smiled in that dreamy way of hers and said: “Sweet.” Then she relived Ingo’s Last Dream again.

  Corrie-Lyn was the most affected. She knelt in front of Inigo and looked up, as if pleading for it not to be true. “They had it all,” she entreated. “They succeeded. Their minds were beautiful.”

  “And it is worthless,” he told her in turn. “They are no longer human. They have anything they want, which takes away any dignity and purpose they might have had. Their lives are day after day of ennui. All that concerns them is the past. Visiting places because they have already been discovered. That’s not gaining experience; that’s a dismal nostalgia trip. They no longer contribute because there’s nothing to contribute to.”

  “They reached fulfillment,” she said. “Their minds were so strong. Inigo, they flew!”

  “But where did they fly to? What did they use such a gift for? To please themselves. Querencia became a playground for characterless godlings.”

  “They succeeded in throwing off the kind of mundane physical shackles that grind our lives down. This is what the Waterwalker gave them. They lived in splendor without having to exploit anyone, without damaging anything. They understood and loved each other.”

  “Because they were all the same. It was self-love.”

  “No.” Corrie-Lyn shook her head and walked out onto the veranda. A few moments later Ozzie heard the sound of her shoes on the creaky old wooden steps down to the garden.

  A dismayed Inigo rose to follow her.

  “Don’t do it, dude,” Ozzie said. “Let her work it out for herself. It’s the only true route to understanding.”

  For a long moment Inigo hesitated; then he slowly sank back into the tall-backed chair at the kitchen table. “Damnit,” he grunted.

  “So that was it, huh?” Ozzie said. “Bummer.”

  Inigo shot him a thoroughly disgusted look.

  “I don’t get it,” Aaron said. “They achieved something approaching the classical heaven on Earth.”

  “Fatal, man,” Ozzie said. “I’ve been there myself. Trust me: plutocrat with a decent brain and the finest rep available during the first-era Commonwealth. Wine, women, and song all the way; I had it so totally better than those guys. Well … except for the flying bit. I gotta admit that was way cool. I always wondered why Edeard couldn’t do that. Man, if I ever got into the Void, I’d be trying from dusk till dawn. Oldest human wish fulfillment there is.”

  “I don’t understand,” Aaron said. “They had reached fulfillment. All of them. That is admirable. It was the final validation of the entire Living Dream movement.”

  “A dung beetle that gets its turd home is fulfilled. We’re talking levels here, dude. Am I right, Inigo?”

  “You’re right.”

  “See, be careful what you wish for. Utopia at our biological level just doesn’t work out. Once you’ve achieved everything, there is nothing left. You take out the core of being human: the striving. Edeard’s descendants had reached a state where fulfillment was inevitable. You didn’t have to work for it. That’s less than human; they were starting to un evolve. And in their own way they knew it. Their population was way down on Edeard’s time and still shrinking. There was no point in having children, because there was nothing new for them. They wouldn’t be able to contribute anything relevant, let alone profound, to the Heart.”

  “In which case this Last Dream doesn’t help our situation in any way I can fathom,” Aaron said.

  “Not your mission, no,” Ozzie told him, curious how that would affect the man’s
strange mentality. “But I guess if we release the Last Dream, it might cause the rise of a few doubters in Living Dream. Mind, they’d be the smart ones, and face it, they’re in a minority in that religion.”

  “Too late,” Inigo said. “Even if the majority acknowledged that the result of a Pilgrimage into the Void is ultimately a lost, sterile generation, it won’t affect the Pilgrimage itself. And you saw Corrie-Lyn’s reaction. She doesn’t believe the Last Dream is an indication of failure. If I can’t convince her …”

  “Throwing your belief is always hard, man. Look at you.”

  Inigo rubbed his hands wearily across his face as he slumped down in the chair. “Yeah, look at me.”

  “I’m sorry about that, man. No, really I am. That was one tough mother of a fall. How long have you bottled that Last Dream up?”

  “About seventy years.”

  “No shit. That’s gotta be good to let it out finally. Tell you what, tonight you and me are going to get major-league hammered together. It’s the only way to put shit like that behind you. And if anyone’s going to understand a colossus of a disaster, it’s yours truly.”

  “That’s almost tempting,” Inigo admitted.

  “You can do that afterward,” Aaron announced. “Now that we’ve determined the Last Dream is not relevant to us, I need you both to focus on what is achievable.”

  “Man, you never give up, do you?”

  “Did you give up when the Dreamer emerged and subverted your gaiafield?”

  “Please, don’t try that motivational psychology bullshit on me. Whatever you are, you’re not up to that. Trust me, stick with the psycho threats.”