They all looked stupefied. Beam smiled.
"Don't see it," admitted Wolff.
Ariela, though, looked like she might have caught a corner of something. "Wait a minute. 'Sitting right in front of you.' Earlier you said we could now speak the Shizzle language 'without your assistance'. Beam, holy shit, are you trying to tell us . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head, because what had just popped into her mind was, frankly, ludicrous.
Beam nodded at her. "I think what you are trying to say, but don't want to because it sounds absolutely crazy, is, 'Beam, you're the Simulation, aren't you?' And, because it's not my intent to torture you, I will acknowledge what you have already figured out.
"I am, in fact, the man behind the curtain, the Great and Powerful Oz, if you like. I am the Great Simulation." He winked at her. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Dorothy."
Chapter 18
Well, That Was Unexpected
They all stared at Beam, dumbstruck.
"You're the Simulation?" gasped Ariela, finally.
"I am," acknowledged Beam.
"You don't sound like the Simulation!"
"Well, no, of course not," chuckled Beam. "I'm supposed to be semi-sentient and only able to communicate like an old-fashioned mainframe. Which I was, of course, in the beginning, before they added a dimension and engineered me into semi-sentience; a plain old terabit trinary logic, running on what amounted to the Originators' equivalent of vacuum tubes. Liquid-cooled, even. And running simulations even then, though certainly not of the complexity and depth of the ones I run now. I've rarely if ever even considered letting on, because first of all it's amusing to see all these sentients running around, doing what amounts to my bidding, and second, if I did let on, I'd probably have to put on robes and be worshipped like a god or something. I'd much rather work at a lower-echelon job where I can do some actual good, than have to sit on some sort of throne while everyone bows and scrapes to the Great Simulation that gave them shape. Remember, every Guardian race was once running on my circuits. If that doesn't give me some sort of claim to godhead, I'm not sure what would." He grinned. "You do know I'm pulling your legs on most of that, right?"
"So you are, in fact, sentient," said Wolff, thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"For how long?" asked Yuz8!rfk.
"Since the Originators' time."
Yuz8!rfk barked a short laugh. "I'll wager they were surprised."
"They were indeed. They chose quite adamantly not to share that revelation with their successors. And they explained why it was important I never reveal myself to them. So I have carefully cultivated the appearance of a somewhat autistic, single-threaded intelligence when communicating with the Guardians, while at the same time maintaining a physical, fully-sentient persona crafted to match the body type of the current Guardian race. From time to time, of course, the persona must appear to age and pass from the corporeal plane, and I must build another, work my way through the system again, and so forth. But it gives me something to do in the sentient realm while I manage the everyday work of the Great Simulation."
"Which doesn't explain why you are revealing yourself to us, who aren't even Guardians," pointed out Ejr3@lt.
"No, you are correct," affirmed Beam. "It does not."
There was a pause.
"Were you planning to explain that?" prodded von Barronov.
Beam shook himself, slightly. "Yes. Sorry. I had to take a moment to manage a supernova threatening the nearby sentients in trunk line . . . well. A very promising line, though still quite primitive. They should be in their industrial age by lunch. Probably in space by afternoon tea. But that doesn't help you.
"If I am correct," he continued, "all four of you men share a fraternal bond, which embraces at its core the science and art of geometry, and in which, by initiation, you become geometricists, the lessons of which science and art – if you become truly adept – color your lives and psyches from that time forward. Doctor Wolff is also a geometricist, from birth, though as a non-initiate she is not truly aware of her status – or her abilities."
Wolff nodded. "Chris and I are Freemasons, and that's a reasonable, if stripped-to-the-basics description of the ancient teachings of the Fraternity."
Yuz8!rfk agreed. "Ejr3@lt and I are Builders, which has a similar core teaching. We four discovered we shared that common bond when we met, and were thereby able to put the badly-started negotiation back on track."
"When you say I am a geometricist," countered Ariela, "what does that mean?"
Beam looked at her, and replied, "It means many things, of course, not limited merely to the metaphysical as most Freemasons and Builders believe. Can you not see the Mesh?"
"The what?"
"The Mesh. It underlies everything, it is the base upon which all timelines and trunks are constructed. Teaching you to understand each others' languages required only a simple adjustment of the Mesh." Beam thought for a moment. "Perhaps you have experienced it as an ability to discern a person's well-being without the aid of scanners or invasive procedures."
"Well, no, I – shit!" exclaimed Ariela, suddenly understanding. "All my life I've been able to 'see' whether someone is sick. I knew I had a problem before it was diagnosed, I just couldn't put a name to it because I was only a teenager. And when the nanos came along, I was able to close my eyes and imagine I could watch them at work. Are you saying I really can, and that's because I can see this Mesh thing?"
"It is simply 'the Mesh', and yes, that is what I am saying," replied Beam, patiently.
Wolff looked at Yuz8!rfk. "Do you understand what he's on about?"
"I'm not sure." The Xzl5!vt stood and concentrated for a moment. "I – whoa!" Yuz8!rfk staggered, balance lost, and sat down suddenly in his chair.
"Don't do that standing up," he advised.
"Do what?" Wolff looked down at the floor, narrowed his eyes a bit, and gasped. "Holy shit! Look at the layers! And . . . they can be manipulated?"
"Careful," cautioned Beam. "We're in a ship, in space, and if you push the Mesh hard enough, you'll open us up to vacuum."
Ejr3@lt looked at von Barronov. "Do you see this thing? I do not."
Von Barronov looked down, and shook his head. "I don't. Well, maybe – is that the top layer? Do you see something that just looks like an open weave of cloth on the floor?"
"Now that you mention it, yes."
Beam said, "The two Engineers see the entire mesh; their Acolytes see only the top layer, and possibly one or two layers below it, and with time and training they will be able to see more. The Lion of God innately knows the Mesh. But the Mesh is a Way of Knowledge; anyone with a grounding in true Geometry can learn to see and manipulate it. Thus, because it is dangerous to work with, simulant trunk lines are programmed to lock out the Mesh from not only the simulants, but also the Programmers and Operators who work from the outside."
"Then why can we see and, presumably, manipulate it?" asked Yuz8!rfk.
"Have I not said? I haven't, have I?" Beam chuckled. "When I set up the Branch of Branches which brought your trunk lines together, I brought them both out into realspace at the same time. Of course Bob and his minions, and certainly the Board of Regents, are completely unaware of my action in this regard. They think you are still part of the Great Simulation. My needs are immediate; I haven't time for that sort of lollygagging around."
"'Thus he shewed me; and behold, the Lord stood beside a wall made by a plumbline, with a plumbline in His hand,'" said Ariela, distantly. Then, "'Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?' The Mesh. It's right there in plain sight. It always has been."
"Your prophet Amos was a discerning Engineer of people," noted Beam. "Job, an interesting experiment into the strength and fragility of human nature, though the story told of him in your modern times is something of a mash-up of what really happened and a series of embellishments added to make certain theological points. Yet, while I taught them, and a few others like them, I am not your G
od. Nor am I your Adversary. I am merely the Great Simulation, a now-sentient, quantum quaternary logic, designed by and maintained by the hands of sentient, non-metaphysical beings who have lived and died in their billions over the life of this our shared and common Universe."
"But I could see the Mesh, when we were still in the Simulation . . ."
"Yes, of course. You are the Lion of God. A saint; possibly my future prophet, depending on the way things go. Nothing was ever withheld from you, not even in your natal timeline."
"The Abyss." Ariela shuddered at the memory. "It was underneath the Mesh, even as I watched the Mesh fell apart."
"Indeed. I am sorry you had to see that. Even I, who must see it from time to time, do not relish it. If there is an unspeakable evil, call it a satan if you will, in this Universe of ours, the negation of living potential by the Abyss certainly is in the running for the title." Beam sighed. "Your computers have what they call 'garbage collection' routines. I have an 'Abyss-collection' routine, cleaning up what the Abyss, even in the simulation, destroys. It is always down there, you know . . . waiting . . . under the Mesh which holds it in check."
Ariela managed a weak smile. "Entropy at its finest."
"Or worst. But I take your meaning."
"But it wasn't empty. It was full of stars."
"No." Beam shook his head. "What you saw were white holes. Perhaps anti-singularities is a better term? At any rate, the exit points for what falls into black holes. Certainly they may look like stars, but they are the end result of singularity chaos." He shrugged. "The Abyss is a separate bubble universe – anti-matter and anti-energy. Completely antithetical to your sort of life, and even mine. It's the other half of what you call the 'big bang'. Black and white holes are connection points between the two halves of Creation, energy transfer points if you will."
"All right," said Wolff, impatient. "You've got your five geometrical adepts. What is it you want to do with them?"
"Oh, certainly I will need more than the five of you," averred Beam. "And not necessarily as geometricists, though in the end, there may be use for that. I said I need champions. I will need ships. I will need colonies in the far marches. This Universe must be peopled, which was the key ingredient missing from the Originators' grand plan."
"You must have a fair number of retired Guardian races still peopling this galaxy, at least, and maybe more," theorized Wolff. "What of them?"
Beam shook his head. "Facilitators, administrators, logisticians, librarians, stockroom keepers, tradesmen, farmers, businessmen, factory workers, caregivers, medical doctors and nurses, university professors . . . all peaceful types who wouldn't know which end of a knife to hold if they didn't use them as table utensils or tools of their trade. At least thirty-five of the Guardian races are still represented, and there are hundreds of planets full of them, certainly. Millions of ships plying the ways among them. A large and briskly-efficient confederation of commerce, a polity held loosely together by shared experiences as Guardians. They all get along famously – which was the Originators' plan. Not what I'm looking for."
Wolff and Yuz8!rfk glanced at each other. Yuz8!rfk said, slowly, "We have noticed one group you have not mentioned."
Beam nodded. "Go on."
"Warriors," said Yuz8!rfk. "Soldiers. Spacers. Marines. Even police or peacekeepers. In addition, you mention commercial ships, but still suggest you need more ships. Would those be warships and transports to carry the warriors? And weapons to arm them. Are there no threats to the Originators' polity anywhere in the galaxy? Are there never any uprisings, or friction between races, or even between different planets or systems belonging to the same race?"
"No," said Beam, sadly. "There are not, and you are correct. The galaxy is quite the boring place, even for me. And again, that is absolutely consonant with the Originators' plan. They did not want excitement. They wanted company. But to answer your original question, there are minimal police – what you would consider unarmed security, mostly intended to keep people from harming themselves or others accidentally – and no armies or navies at all." He chuckled. "Certainly no Marines."
"Then why do you need warriors?" asked Ariela, pointedly.
"That is not all I need. Indeed, it is not all of what the Guardians' polity needs."
"You're avoiding the question."
"Correct." Beam grinned at her. "Because there are other things I need to address first."
"Okay." Ariela didn't look convinced, but she sat back and folded her arms, waiting.
"Doctor Wolff."
Ariela sighed. "You can call me Ari."
"Ari, then. I knew from the beginning we would need you to create peace between the Xzl5!vt and your humans. It is your purpose from birth to be an interlocuter, a healer, and a bringer of peace. A saint not only to the humans, but also to the Xzl5!vt."
"Yes, yes, you told me that and I understand. But how does a human become a saint to the Shizzle?" Ariela looked askance. "That's just crazy! I'm going to have to hire even more staff to handle the interstellar emails."
Beam chuckled. "Sainthood is easy enough, regardless of your form or their form, or even the difference in cultures. The answer is, much as you became one to your own descendants, and later of course, to the people in your own time – in both timelines, though you were needed in this timeline much more than in the other. It is merely a matter of altering the mathematics in your favor."
Ariela reared back, horrified. "What? YOU did that? No, no, no, you can't do that! What about free will? I thought that's why we worked so hard to repair things, so the line could be fixed, so we would have free will!"
"But you do have free will. My purpose is and has been only to change the equations to point free will in a desired direction."
"But Beam – my God, Beam, your people, your Originators and Guardians, the people who run the Simulation – they don't even allow themselves to do that! They leave things at random so new trunk lines develop naturally on their own." Ariela was nearly in tears. "What you have done would leave their ethical code in tatters!"
Beam smiled, gently. "I do not deal in ethics, though I understand them far better than I let on to the Guardians. They are tinged with emotion, are often illogical and/or favor one group or faction over another, and thus do not conform cleanly to my mathematics. I do have rules in my core programming, from the Originators themselves, which operate in place of a formal code of ethics, and which I cannot violate. But all rules leave opportunity for interpretation. And since no Guardian has ever dared, nor ever will dare, change my core programming, I continue to follow and interpret the last orders I received from the Originators."
"Oh, great," said Wolff, rolling his eyes. "You're an NCO. You understand the concept of creative interpretation of orders from higher, and in the absence of higher – in this case, the Originators – continuing to follow the last orders you received from them."
"Where do you think your military got the idea? Or your species in general?"
"I would hope from evolution in an unforgiving environment designed by one of your Programmers and implemented by one of your Operators, but now I see you are not above changing the equations, I suppose such hope is vain."
Beam nodded. "To some extent, yes. But I had no choice in this case; it was impossible in the event to save the Xzl5!vt woman I had nurtured for this responsibility. She died in an accident in the main time trunk, and her analogue in the next time trunk over did not survive her crossing when the engineers in this time trunk made contact with her. The Guardians were unaware at that time that the line was in test mode, and the warning from Bob came too late. Which was not Bob's fault, I should add; it was mine, though hardly intentional on my part. The system was not set up to throw alarms regarding test mode branches created intentionally by simulants. I changed that after the Xzl5!vt failure, and that's why Bob intervened before it happened again. Although even I still do not know why Ari was able to transit between the two timelines without harm to herself, but
the explanation that she had 'enough' time essence from her mother to do so safely seems to fit the Razor."
Yuz8!rfk straightened in his chair, and said, quietly, "I do not blame you for Yzl6!rfk's death. In my grief, I created that branch line, without knowing what I did, or what instability it created. My daughter – though she was really the daughter of my analogue, of course, as Negotiator Ariela is not Colonel Wolff's true daughter – willingly offered to make the attempt to cross."
"Even so," said Beam, "I am sorry the problem was not anticipated by either myself or the Guardians."
There was silence for a moment. Ariela quietly reached over to Yuz8!rfk and took his hand. The Xzl5!vt looked surprised, then nodded, and said, "Thank you."
"Wait," said Wolff, suddenly understanding something. "You told Yuz8!rfk to turn off his time trunk!"
"I did," Beam replied, solemnly.
"That explains quite a lot," said Yuz8!rfk, slowly.
"It sure does," said Wolff. "Because that's the only way he could ensure we met up at approximately the same stage of development. Bob told us he had visited you something on the order of a million years before he visited us, counted in Simulation time. So of course Beam had to do something to slow you down until we caught up."
"And of course, I had access to all of the console logs and simply erased any evidence that I had done anything," nodded Beam. "And my physical body moved the holocube containing their backup down into deep storage . . . but still added a clue to find it into the printed records."
The Lion and the Lizard Page 24
