Through the Singularity

by L. Frank Wadsworth

  After about ten minutes, Clive lets them know he has established a connection. Zaleria contacts the collective and requests support. She provides an extensive update about what they've found and what group might be involved. They'll send a ship down after nightfall but will only let Zaleria approach. They'll also see if they can generate more leads about the Sklávoi Ashtoreth.

  ∞∞∞

  Achi and Zaleria decide to spend the day exploring the estate. She wants to engage in some light physical exercise to help clear her mind, and to explore the local wildlife. She has always been interested in exobiology and has shared numerous and well-received treatises with the collective about the genetic history and taxonomy of Earth's lifeforms. They hike vigorously for an hour before taking a short break, each just starting to breathe a little harder.

  “I find it somewhat ironic that I spent the last 10,000 years unable to forget the first time we met, yet you've hardly thought about it. And now that we both finally realize what happened, it bothers you far more than it does me,” Achi says, wanting to advance their prior discussions.

  “I was young, idealistic, and so naïve,” Zaleria admits, avoiding his gaze, instead looking around at their woody surroundings. “I think Beltare was mostly humoring me when she used the med kit on you, although I think she was impressed you were able to hurt that kel'taite at all.” She turns to look at him. “I felt you were so noble; stupid, but noble nonetheless. It was a shock to see how much, and how quickly, that changed once I gained your memories. It was my fault you were denied the opportunity to live as you were supposed to. Perhaps you would have been different? But over the years, I think perhaps you've simply returned to who you were meant to be. Well, not really.” She furrows her brows. “You've grown. You no longer have a shallow, perhaps instinctive understanding of right versus wrong, but a complete and well-thought-out moral framework.”

  “I wasn't really important to you, was I? Just a momentarily interesting specimen, much like that squirrel I saw you stop and chat with.”

  She eyes him, trying to figure out where he wants to go with this. “Yes. I think that pretty much captures my feelings on the matter. I will say, I didn't really understand how similar our species were until I met you. That changed me and my research focus—probably for all time.”

  “When I rifled through your memories, it felt like I was taking a forbidden peek at the solution to a problem I've been trying so hard to figure out—how to pass through our singularity intact. It is almost like cheating. I presumed there was a way, but once I had your memories, I found the answer; it could be done. What the galanen have accomplished—it's all so… beautiful,” he says, thinking about all that he has learned.

  He reaches out to her mind through their unnatural connection and begins to wander freely through her memories, reliving several mostly common experiences of her life, but as experienced through his eyes. He shows her things she has never noticed before, while at the same time she helps him understand the nuances of life in the collective.

  It is the basis for their society, an artificial construct that connects every galan to every other and enables each individual instantaneous access to all they collectively know. Individuals can create all they need on their 'home' worlds—food, machines, technology, tools… anything—built one molecule at a time using nanomachines. While physically, they live largely solitary lives spread out across the universe, they are intimately connected anytime they wish, coexisting seamlessly in a virtual world. This latter reality is the one most galanen would identify as their society. They live in massive virtual cities, learn in universities, go to parks, and share creative works of art, music, or anything an individual wants to. All is contained within what they call the collective. Its purpose? To enable the galanen to explore the universe, share all that they learn, and help other sentients, such as humanity, evolve into advanced races. There is so much knowledge, beauty, love, and creativity. But Achi sees other facets as well. Aspects that are more disquieting, to him at least.

  The collective is everywhere. Intrusive, smothering, and controlling. Individuals are connected to it prior to birth, inoculated with symbiots that begin shaping their individual realities pre-birth and throughout the rest of their lives. It is a form of complete indoctrination, even if benevolent. However, individuals only share what they want—which is highly encouraged—but the rest they can keep private if they want. Those safeguards seem to be nearly inviolate—at least as far as Zaleria knows, Achi notes. Still, he wonders how ideal their society really is; it seems a bit too perfect.

  Zaleria, like all galanen children, lived her first hundred years or so with her parents. She physically aged as quickly as a human, but the process ceased in her mid-twenties thanks to her embedded symbiots. She spent her early years gaining a basic education in their history, culture, science, the arts, and much about what is known about the universe and the higher dimensions beyond. These lessons included moral precepts constantly reinforced with increasingly challenging test cases drawn from collective memory. All designed to help her think through the moral implications of action or inaction when dealing with lower lifeforms and less advanced races—like humanity.

  After this time, she began to explore the universe for herself, looking for a place to call home in the process. She went on internships with friends of her parents, found mentors, and grew her network of friends and peers across galanen society. She moved from place to place as her curiosity led her and learned what she could until she grew bored, moving on to something else—carefree, unguided. Many galan live their entire lives like this, but she felt the need to make a more tangible contribution, which led her to Earth. It was her mother's idea, but one she quickly warmed to once she fully considered it. It changed her life. She was earnest when she stated her first mission, and the encounter with Achi, made a huge impact on her life. She has spent 10,000 years trying to figure out why humans are so closely related to galanen. He ceases his short tour through her memories.

  “You are pessimistic, you know that, right?” Zaleria remarks.

  Achi shrugs, “Do you know how many times I've seen Utopia? Idealistic societies always sound great, but they quickly turn to ruin. Humans have used every social construct to gain an advantage over their fellow man, and as they gain more power, they become less tolerant of opposition. Eventually, they become tyrants and are overthrown by the next group of idealistic leaders who start the cycle anew. Are advanced races really immune to such change? I hope so but remain skeptical of any domineering social order. The collective was designed to control the masses and maintain strict social order.”

  “So you are saying you prefer disorder?” she asks, confused.

  “No, I'm just saying I don't trust absolute power. I suspect there is more to your collective than you've fully experienced to date. But to answer your question, I would actually say that I'm an optimist. I've irrationally believed mankind could overcome their shortcomings and create something better as we pass through our singularity, and it wasn't until we reunited that I've finally learned it can actually be done. But I'm not supposed to know that, am I?”

  She slowly shakes her head before looking down, unable to meet his gaze. “No. You should not even be alive; nor should you know all that you do, and you definitely should not be allowed to influence humanity's development. I don't know what I should do about it, as you are aware. I am so conflicted. I like you, at least as you are now. You feel just like a galan. I don't think the others will see it that way.” She turns away with a heavy sigh and looks up at the ridge they've been shadowing for the last 20 minutes. “You took me out here to get my mind off things. You've not done a very good job of that. Race you to the top?”

  Achi laughs, “I'm sorry, I tend to brood. And you're right, I wanted you to just enjoy the day. Do you really think you can take me? You're on!”

  They race up the hill, laughing. He is in slightly better shape, she has longer legs, and they're both augmented by her symbio
ts. They are very evenly matched.

  ∞∞∞

  That evening, after dinner, Zaleria lets Achi know her comms have been fully restored. She contacts the collective and requests they send the ship now. Achi escorts her to his garage and hands her the keys to one of his personal autos. “You know how to drive one from my memories, so no need to make your cohort nervous.” He knows she has no intention of returning to the collective at this moment, so he doesn't bother to ask.

  She nods, takes the keys, and gets into his classic Mustang. She fires it up, pulses the throttle a few times on the highly modified, barely street legal engine, and smiles at him. She enjoys feeling the power of the engine vibrating throughout the machine, raw and enticing. She pulls out of the garage slowly, then floors it on her way up the hill.

  He notes the loss of her presence when she moves outside of local contact range. He suddenly feels more alone. He's already gotten used to being connected with her all the time. It's actually kind of nice to have someone he can relate to. He shakes his head at how absurd that sounds. He's only known her a total of four days (at least while they were both coherent), but he feels like he's known her his entire life—and hers for that matter. God this is awkward.

  Zaleria enjoys the thrill of acceleration, of directing this primitive machine to her will. All galanen conveyances are based on gravity wave drives that, as a side effect, also eliminate any inertial forces, which opens far greater performance options. But she enjoys how she can “feel” the road as she drives the Mustang. She plays around with it a bit, taking several of the corners much faster than she needs to, but within safe limits. She knows the way as well as Achi, and it's a private road; there will be no one else on it. Besides, she deserves to have a little fun. The greatest problem with immortality is fighting boredom, and this is a new and enjoyable experience. One that is much better than all her recent—unenjoyable—new experiences, she muses—like dying in an explosion and having all her memories hijacked. She twists her lips while she thinks on that last one, before pinching her lips tight. She is determined to learn how to develop a “poker face” so she can better engage in deception, a skill she believes will likely become valuable in the near future. Achi is much better at it than she is, and they will need to work as a team—at least for a while, if all goes as planned. She knows he let her drive the car for several reasons but giving her an opportunity to “blow off some steam” and think things through without his constant presence was one of them. He is very thoughtful and seems to care about her.

  She slows down, pulls into the hydro station's small parking lot, and stops the car. Rolle built a shallow dam across the burbling rivulet far upstream and ran a pipe down the hill, which enters the generator plant with sufficient head to run a turbine. The outflow goes back into the stream. The building sits in a natural flat spot in the terrain and has a large meadow beside it that the waverider will use as a landing pad.

  She waits for the small galanen craft, which will come in from the south. The most direct route would be to come in from the North Pole, but that is watched too closely—a lingering effect of the “Cold War,” she now knows it was called. While its drive systems would bend RF energy around it, rendering it “invisible,” it could cause detectable distortions as it passes through the ionosphere. And humanity is getting good at that sort of remote sensing.

  She takes the time alone to think about her feelings. She finds herself drawn to Achi, despite his rougher edges. He is not the angry and despondent man he once was. That “person” was buried long, long ago. Literally, and on many occasions. She finds it difficult to judge him for his early actions. He was a primitive, angry and conflicted, and had no understanding of what had happened to him. He judged himself millennia ago and believes there is no way to atone for all he did. He accepts he can't go back in time and change things, which pains him to this day. But his guilt is not what drives him; it is his love for humanity and his hope that he can help them rise above their baser natures and evolve into a more enlightened state. Just as he has done.

  “Just as he has done,” she whispers to herself. She realizes that despite his being born primitive, he is as enlightened as any galanen. Except he had to learn it the hard way. It wasn't molded into him since birth—indoctrinated as he called it. While he may be more prone to violence now than most galanen, it is something he will only employ as a last resort, and then only to advance a noble cause, like defense of an innocent. It is an artifact of his living in a primitive society, not how he would prefer to live. In every respect, he really is her peer, one whose judgment and motivations she finds trustworthy. She wonders fleetingly if this is just a side-effect of their unintended bond. She doesn't think so but acknowledges the possibility and endeavors to keep vigilant. She realizes he feels the same way but doesn't want to think about that right now. Neither does Zaleria.

  The waverider lands. It is piloted by none other than Beltare, who has been her cohort leader since being assigned to tend the Earth. She is over five times Zaleria's age and has tended two other garden worlds, which is why she was selected to oversee humanity's development. Her presence is a stark notice of just how worried the galanen are (and how bizarre Zaleria's behavior must seem). Beltare is demanding, but fair, and encourages initiative and intelligent risk taking—so long as you also show good judgment. She rarely rebukes but does take advantage of every opportunity to “enhance learning,” as she calls it. Zaleria puts on her best poker face, gets out of the car, and heads out into the field to meet her.

  Beltare walks over and embraces her. “We are, I am, worried about you. We grew concerned after the attack when we couldn't find you. You have not really shared what happened… Is everything alright?”

  “This is the first time I suffered corporeal death. The experience has been unsettling. So many others died, and I couldn't stop it. I know there was little I could do, but the shear violence of it all. It has left its mark on my essence.” All of which is true, and Zaleria hopes that is enough to satisfy her, though she fears it won't be.

  Beltare lets her go, stands back, and looks at her. “Zaleria, how does Rolle Andersson know who you are?”

  “They took my body because they saw through my weak attempt at crafting a false identity. I should have been more thorough; we underestimated their abilities. They expected to examine my corpse forensically, only to discover I was healing. When I awoke, he'd moved me to a secure facility. My injuries disabled my comm implant, which is why I couldn't be tracked. Rolle knew I was not of Earth, despite our similarities, because he found the symbiots in my blood. So I told him the outline of our mission. He'd already perceived there were two forces guiding humanity's development. He is quite remarkable, for a human.” There, that should be enough for now.

  Beltare regards her coolly. “Zaleria, much has changed about you, but your ability to deceive me is not one of them,” Beltare shares sternly. “You've never been good at it, though you are getting better. Maybe in another 10 or 20 thousand years you'll perfect it. You are holding back from me, from the collective. I should order you back to Luna.”

  Dammit, Zaleria knows she is reacting to that threat, showing her guilt. She is going to have to take up poker. Perhaps Clive will be kind enough to teach her, that is if she is ever allowed to set foot on the planet again.

  Beltare continues, “Hopefully that will get your attention. You are one of my most gifted pupils, but you tend to get drawn into the strangest messes sometimes. You follow your intuition more than your head or our collective wisdom. It's your mother's influence. It served her well, but don't think that means you can hide things from me. I need to know what is going on if I am to wisely guide the galanen on Earth, no matter how private. It pains me that you feel you cannot confide in me.” She is visibly angry, and more, hurt.

  Zaleria has never seen her this upset and disappointed. She's afraid she may have pushed her too far this time.

  Beltare sighs, “However, you have developed a level of rap
port with Mr. Andersson, and things are very fragile right now. I don't know what you are up to, but I hope you have good reasons for the games you are playing.” Beltare looks at her for a moment, conflicted. Then she walks over and hugs her warmly. “There is a lot going on, and I worry about you. There are worse things in this universe than corporeal death. Be careful you do not stumble across them. Please take care and keep us updated about what you are doing.” Beltare hands her the emergency first-aid kit. “I'll expect a full report soon. Don't tarry too long, or I will recall you, even if I have to personally fetch you back.”

  Zaleria hugs her and shares, “I promise, I will, soon.” But she isn't sure if she means it.

  She watches Beltare go back to the waverider and depart as silently as she arrived. She stays there a few more moments, enjoying the silence. She has made a mess of things, of that there is no doubt. She doesn't do a good job being a private person in a collectivist race. She needs an outside opinion. She'll get one from Achi, that can't be helped, but she needs someone she can confide in, and Beltare—as much as Zaleria loves her—isn’t the person she wants to talk with about this. She sighs, time to get back. Achi will be worried. Of course, he'll also be watching via the camera on the hydro plant. She looks over at it, smiles, and waves, before getting back into the car, blowing a doughnut in the gravel parking lot, and tearing back down the road.

  Achi, standing in the security center within his mansion, smiles over at Clive. “It's eerie how similar they are to us, isn't it?”

  Clive nods, “That was a dressing down from a superior officer if I've ever seen one, although that other woman does care for her. She's worried, and with good reason, I believe. I expect she is something of a mentor.”