Through the Singularity

by L. Frank Wadsworth

  “I know. There is much I need to do, but I will be in touch, and Clive will be nearby. Good fortune,” he says as he gestures for her to get into the trunk.

  She looks at him, taking a moment to wonder yet again what the hell his angle is, then shrugs her shoulders, tucks her bag up under the rear dashboard and gets into the trunk, lying down on the mattress. “OK, good luck to you, too. Talk to you later.”

  Clive shuts the trunk and looks at Nils. “You losing your marbles? I thought she was a means to an end.”

  “I never told you that, and you know it. Clive, I've told you before, people change. You are a prime example of that, aren't you?”

  Clive snorts at him. “I never killed anyone.”

  “I did. And worse,” Achi tells him quietly.

  “And how many thousands of years ago was that?”

  “Does that matter?” Achi asks. “Can I say, based on my experience, that a certain number of years absolves a person of theft, and a longer period is required before you're absolved of murder? I'll tell you the truth, people either feel guilt or they don't. Time makes little difference. Cheryn is no different than you were, once. She is no different than I was, once. She may become more like us in the future, or she may not. She isn't what she was.”

  Clive sighs. “Look, I…know that. It is still very fresh in my mind. I've always felt wronged for most of my life. Becoming successful was my way of sticking it to the man. To my parents. Showing I wasn't a wasted human being, someone to just be discarded. She helped take all that away.”

  Achi gets into the back of the sedan. “Clive, you know me. Do you think I haven't seen this story before, played out in a thousand different ways? Cheryn has the same story. She was dumped as a kid, she shared the anger, and Sklávoi Ashtoreth was there to cultivate it. It was not an accident.”

  Clive gets into the front seat. “I know. I'm being unreasonable. I'll get over it, if nothing else because Zaleria was so willing to forgive her. It's just, hard, you know?”

  “I do. I absolutely do.” Achi sits silently for a moment as Clive starts the car. Achi shakes his head. “Here I am, sitting here, forgetting the door,” he says as he gets out and rolls it open.

  Clive pulls the car through the opening, after which Achi lets it close back down again. He fixes a lock on it and sets the alarm before getting back into the car. “There is one other thing you should know.”

  “Yeah what is that?”

  “Cheryn is your sister.” Clive stops the car and turns to look at Achi.

  “What?!”

  “I've tested both of your DNA. You have the same father, different mothers. Near as I can tell, you were probably born at nearly the same time, perhaps in a Sklávoi Ashtoreth camp outside Philadelphia.”

  Clive stares at him, mouth moving, but with no words coming out. After a couple moments, he finally blurts out, “Does she know?”

  “No,” Achi says as he looks away. He sighs. “I don't think I've ever told you this—there didn't really seem to be a need to do so—but you are like a son to me. I felt you deserved to know, but I wanted to tell you face-to-face. Cheryn, she has potential, but I can't tell where she's headed. I have a good feeling about her and will do what I can, but she hasn't earned my trust yet. Our relationship right now is based on need, not trust. And need can easily change. But there is no doubt, she is your sister—half-sister technically. I defer to you on whether to tell her. And there is something else. I strongly suspect Sklávoi Ashtoreth knew this when they sent her against us. That's the level of evil we're dealing with.”

  ∞∞∞

  Zaleria thoroughly examines every data point she can dig up on Cheryn Douglass, or any of her many false identities. The collective has access to almost all of Earth's data, and the ability to process it much faster than the humans because of their ability to use quantum computers spread across the entire universe, connected through higher dimensional feeds that bypass the light speed limitations in this universe. It's amazing how much data you can transfer when time has no meaning. Something humans someday might win access to, if they make it through their crisis. They are so like the galanen. How would the universe know failed humans from galanen?

  Suddenly, she stops what she is doing. Genetically, humans and galanen are the same. There is nearly no deviation. What would happen if humans suddenly gained access to the technology necessary to make the attempt to cross dimensional space but were not deemed worthy of such access? Or would they be accepted into the higher dimension in a failed state, because they would be considered galanen? She doubts this would be the case; it is more likely they would be blocked. Perhaps all of them, galanen and humans. “Elder Toshi, may I have a moment of your time. You too mother.”

  “Sure, have you found something?”

  “What's up dear?” her mother asks.

  “Actually, I have a question. Let us say for the sake of argument, humanity comes out of its crisis a failed race, but one capable of advanced technology. And further, that they gain the ability to attempt dimensional travel. They are nearly identical to galanen now, and if trends persist, they will be even more so in the future. How would the gatekeepers react?”

  Toshi walks into her living room, where she has been working while lying on her couch. He doesn't answer her and looks over to Traemuña. Raising an eyebrow, deferring to the eldest. Her countenance turns grave. “We don't know for sure. My instinct tells me they would likely identify them as a failed race and not permit their passage, possibly affecting all galanen as well. Would it be unjust if we, having passed through our crisis, failed our kin? No, these elders are here because there is much more at stake than humanity. Tell me true, do you think it is altruism, or self-preservation that drives us now?”

  “We must not fail then,” Zaleria says with force.

  “But if we fail, and they fall, then they must not survive.” Zaleria is shocked by the ruthlessness in her mother's statement. She looks at Toshi, who merely gives a very short nod of his head.

  “We cannot risk humanity becoming a failed race, they must succeed, or be destroyed. But let us not be fatalistic. Please return to your investigations. There is time still to ensure a better outcome.”

  Zaleria thanks them both, stunned at what they told her. Her mother was right again, the more she learns about her people, the less advanced they seem. It is disturbing, yet it seems familiar somehow. She is not sure why. She mulls whether the person doing this so hates their own people, they would see the galanen reduced to a failed race. Her people are too far spread to survive such a catastrophe. They would lack the means to communicate across the vast distances over which they have spread. They would become individuals and small groups of nomads. Wandering the universe vainly seeking others of their kind, as the millennia wore on. Perhaps a few starting over where their numbers might permit, hoping time would allow their DNA to diverge enough to become unique again, starting from scratch. Is this what happened to the galanen and the humans in the past? Perhaps this is how they are related? What a wild theory…

  She stops herself. It is too much to think about right now. There is no way to know what might lurk in the ancient history of both their peoples. It would be best to get back to trying to find Cheryn.

  She settles back down on her couch, and then decides a change in scenery would be better. She walks out into her garden and makes for a quiet bench by a creek, where the burbling water can help her relax and focus.

  She gets back into her search. Cheryn went to Seattle, was attacked, and disappeared. The trail goes cold in an alley behind a bookstore she ran into. Two men chased her down and were found beaten unconscious, with no memory of what happened. So they claimed. She finds this latter point odd. They didn't play dumb; they didn't react to any description of events that occurred within about 15 minutes of their going into the alley. She wonders if they were drugged—there are many drugs that can cause loss of consciousness and interfere with the brain's ability to transfer short-term memories in
to long-term memories. Beating an unconscious man would be easy.

  Was it planned? It seems unlikely by all descriptions. What is also odd is the report of a third man, who also went into the alley. No sign was found of that person. He was described as average height, athletic, mid-twenties, black hair, blue eyes, and oddly calm. Perhaps it was he that subdued the attackers? If so, did he help Cheryn or do her harm?

  They had to have left the alley. There are only a couple routes they could have taken, the most logical being the road out to the main street. No one reported people like that coming through their shops or restaurants that connect onto the alley. She looks for any cars departing the local area shortly after the attack, calling up camera records until she is sure she has every route covered. She looks up the license plates to see if she can find anything interesting. There are several rental cars. She tracks each of those and finds an interesting coincidence. One was rented using a business card associated with one of many subcontractors for the Andersson Foundation. Cheryn's? No, her car wasn't returned and was found by the police still parked at her hotel. She also never checked out. So who else was out there? The name appears to be false. She chases down a few more leads, and comes to a startling realization. It may have been Nils Hagen.

  Interesting… She pulls up what she can find of him. He fits the description of the third person who came into the store. He was also Cheryn's boss, the one who managed her case when she was recovering, and the one who recruited her to the foundation. He was also the one who officially reported her as missing when she didn't return from her trip. He worked closely with the Seattle police, passing them all his contact information for her. She didn't have any next of kin that he knew about. He paid for ads in Seattle seeking anyone with knowledge of her whereabouts to come forward. All very convincing. Zaleria doesn't believe any of it.

  So she starts digging. She finds out all she can about Nils Hagen. His father worked for Rolle Andersson, was one of his chief engineers. He died of cancer when Nils was very young. He grew up, heir to several patents that paid handsomely. He went to the best schools and, about a year after Rolle Andersson's death, started working at the Andersson Foundation. He has done well. He also has his own startup company, employing many of the same engineers Rolle used to employ. He lives in Denver. Not much is available about him prior to a few years ago, except for a few school records and a birth certificate. A mystery. She looks for confirming evidence of his past but doesn't turn up much. A few newspaper stories, none with photos. He was tutored for his education. No names are given. He graduated from college, but there is no mention of him in any campus publication. He kept a very low profile. Or it is all made up? It is hard to tell. Could he be Sklávoi Ashtoreth? Or something else, an impostor? Did Cheryn find something out?

  Nils seems to be the key; he must know something. Either he made her disappear, or he is hiding her, which means they must find out where. In either case, he is the key.

  She looks at his photo, memorizing every detail. He looks familiar. Similar in some respects to Rolle Andersson. He's younger, with different hair and facial structure, but a similar build and countenance. More muscular and a little leaner. A son perhaps? Maybe unacknowledged? She shakes her head. Everything can't be a conspiracy. But still, she promised to report what she found, and this at least seems interesting.

  She reviews her logic, retraces each step, her leaps of intuition, and so fixes in her mind what is known and what is conjecture, then reaches out for her mother. “I think I have found something. Can you review it for me please?”

  She realizes it has gotten quite dark. Her mother may be asleep. She decides to start back to the house and comes across Toshi sitting near the pond. He appears to be asleep, but she realizes he is meditating, or perhaps melding with his essence. She decides to not bother him and turns to go on to her house, when he calls to her in Earth English.

  “You are disturbed by our earlier conversation.” It is a statement, not a question.

  “I am. Mother and I have discussed whether humans are as morally evolved as we are. Whether there is a difference between how we are now, and how they are. I have seen the violence they inflict on each other. It has been getting worse. At the same time, they create so much beauty. But it rarely endures. I believe we are different. She does not. I think it is this more than anything that disturbs me. She is one of the oldest galanen still in this universe and has seen much more than she has shared with me. Because it is private.” She lowers her eyes. “I should not speak of her so, without her here to present her own thoughts.”

  “But she has. You mother is wise. I have never understood why she has remained for as long as she has, but something holds her here, I think. I am glad you are with her, because I believe she will need solace when whatever sustains her is revealed.”

  “How can we be morally superior to humans if we exterminate the entire race, just to save ourselves? If they fail, are we not in part to blame? Would this not also be our failure?” Zaleria asks.

  “Indeed, what you say is true. But the collective is built around individual galan. I do not believe a majority of them, most of whom have never been involved with Earth, would see it the same way. You have a very strong moral sense and demonstrate that through your work with Earth. But what do most galan do? They spend their time in the collective, entertaining and being entertained. Spending time with their friends. Enjoying their lives. These are not evil things, but I do not doubt for a moment that they would do just about anything to preserve their present state. In this matter, I do not believe your mother errs in her judgment about galanen moral parity with humans.”

  Zaleria shakes her head. “But I just don't see the willingness to commit acts of evil, not like humans demonstrate every day.”

  Toshi shakes his head. “That is only because so much of our collective is designed to enforce and reinforce our moral code among our members. Any deviation is rapidly identified and dealt with, usually through our communion. Sometimes by removal of the offending member. It is better to rid the collective of such galan than to have the whole collective suffer. Traemuña and I have both been involved in these matters. It is always unpleasant.”

  “How are they kept secret?”

  “Simple. They are not shared. Therefore, if you have personal knowledge of such an event, it must stay with you. You can't share it with the collective. You might be able to discuss it with an individual via local connection, or speak of it as we are now doing, but how many can you reach? A handful at most, and many will not want to hear it discussed. It is too disquieting. But as you get older, you will eventually run into cases and learn the truth. Earth may be the result of one of these, though if it is, we've been unable to find out who.”

  “What happens to these galan?”

  “They are cut off from the collective. They cannot communicate with it, nor connect with any members. Their symbiots are no longer recognized. Further, their essence is archived and then isolated. It would seem as though they crossed over, but that route is usually denied them by the gatekeepers. We must each earn entry.”

  “Can they be restored?”

  “Yes. But I do not believe it has happened very often. This punishment is an extreme measure, and those to whom it is applied are usually beyond redemption. But there is always some measure of hope union can be restored. They must demonstrate true penitence and remorse and that they have changed their ways. Like I said, it is very rare this occurs.”

  “It would be a horrible existence, to live your life knowing if you are destroyed, you will not pass over or be regenerated.”

  “Indeed, I think many such simply destroy themselves rather than continue. It is a tragedy.”

  “Thank you for telling me this.”

  “I'm not sure you should thank me,” Toshi says, “But I felt you deserved to know the truth, so you would have a better idea of what we may be facing.”

  Zaleria wishes him a good night and heads back to her house. She finds
her mother asleep on the couch, having apparently taken over her favorite work spot when Zaleria went outside, then falling asleep in the middle of whatever she had been working on. She smiles at her. She loves her more as time goes on, she decides. She is an amazing galan. She decides to share her results with her in the morning. This will also give Zaleria time to digest the new information.

  Regardless, she will communicate her findings to the group tomorrow, and then Beltare and Jevelle can decide how best to approach Nils Hagen.

  ∞∞∞

  Nils decides it is time to take a leave of absence from the Andersson Foundation to attend to his growing companies in the Research Triangle. And it'll be good to see Clive face-to-face for a change. What's it been, six months? Before he departs, he clears out all his e-mails and messages. There is one from Clive's latest avatar. It reads:

  A candle under a bushel basket sheds no light. If you remove the basket, a gust of wind will blow it out. How, then are you to light the path so you do not fall into a pit?

  A prearranged code. Someone has been digging into his past, hitting databases triggered to report such inquires. He was afraid of that. Probably Sklávoi Ashtoreth. If he's lucky it's only the IRS. He'll now need to be extra careful. Nils will need to ensure he appears where he is not, using ruses to misdirect anyone trying to actually find him. He will also have to alter his physical appearance and work more through proxies. Sigh…what a pain. He'll have to find time to meet up with Clive and compare notes. He types a quick note back to him.

  Ironic it is that a blind man can walk the path at any time, knows neither the dark nor the light, and cares only for the refreshing breeze.

  They still have work to do, so they will have to dodge their adversaries until they can finish it. He reschedules his trip, deciding to take some vacation first. Somewhere remote. Let them chase shadows. He fleshes out a paper trail to Montana. He's always wanted to hike the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area.