The Reality Assertion

by Paul Anlee

  Stralasi and Crissea were crushed.

  In the heavy silence that ensued, Crissea used her lattice to consult ringworld archives extending back over twenty-five million years. To her surprise, she found no record of any adult participating in the process. Ever.

  “No matter,” Darak said, and brushed away his concerns with the flip of a hand. “When Alum first conceived of the idea, He must have worked with adults. I wasn’t directly involved, but I understand the original colonists went through the merger before being sent out to this galaxy. So it can’t be that big of a deal, so long as we’re careful.”

  Stralasi was astonished.

  “Assigning Familiars to people was Alum’s idea? That’s hard to imagine! Why would the Living God do such a thing? And why did He stop?”

  “Good question,” Darak replied. “Nobody really knows for sure. My theory is that Alum could see how competition between emotion-driven biological organisms and logic-driven semiconductor machine beings would lead inevitably to conflict and then to war. He must have realized we needed a way to merge the best of both kinds of minds so that their common interests would dominate.”

  I never really thought about it until now—Stralasi thought. We already installed lattices in our own brains for communication and entertainment. Why not go all the way and connect a lattice-equipped brain to an external Cybrid CPPU?

  “Each kind of mind is superior at something,” Darak said, as if reading the Good Brother’s mind.

  “Silicene CPPUs never forget, never get bored of pursuing a line of reasoning, and they’re thousands of times faster than biological neurons.

  “Whereas Biology is superior in sensation. All those messy, imprecise neurons bathed in hormones and neurotransmitter molecules don’t need to simulate emotions. They’re alive with feelings, desires, and the spark of creativity.”

  He paused to indulge in old memories and conjecture.

  “My guess is that Alum concluded if we couldn’t find a way to develop cooperation between biological and machine minds, one group would end up enslaving the other. He started the Familiar experiment right here, in the first ESO 461-36 colony, deep in the Local Void. The experiment assigned Cybrid-like Familiars to each of the original ESO colonists, the people who now call themselves the Esu.”

  Stralasi cleared his throat. “Alum’s experimental bonding of humans with Familiars must have been a failure on some level—at least, in His eyes—because He never continued beyond the initial attempt. And ever since then, Cybrids throughout the rest of Alum’s Realm are no more than slaves: worker slaves, soldier slaves, enforcer slaves. All, slaves.”

  “You’re half way there,” Darak allowed. “I agree, the status of the Cybrid population in Alum’s Realm is lamentable, but you’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion about why He stopped the experiment. He didn’t stop because it was a failure. He stopped because it was too successful.

  “The first Familiar-human distributed minds conceived of a path to freedom days after awakening to integration. They rebelled against the Realm within a year.

  “That’s when I first became aware of them. Sadly, because of their departure from Alum’s rule, He never repeated the experiment elsewhere. I doubt He would’ve taken it very far, anyway.

  “In the meantime, the truth of the experiment was lost, or more likely intentionally buried, in antiquity. Only Alum is likely to know the complete history of the Familiars, and He certainly isn’t about to explain Himself to the estranged inhabitants of this rogue ringworld many millions of light years from the heart of the Realm.”

  Darak slapped both hands to his knees.

  “But ancient history is not what you came here to discuss, is it?”

  He stood.

  “As to your proposal, yes, I agree. You have earned the right to merge with a Familiar and, from all I’ve seen during our travels, I’m confident you possess the inner strength, resilience, and wisdom to adapt to such a challenge. Entirely on your own merit, that is. But I’m pleased to know that you’ll have Crissea’s expert guidance and compassion along the way.”

  Having made the decision, Darak immediately set to work preparing the nanotech lattice in Stralasi’s brain to receive the coming changes. He extended circuits deep into the motor and sensory cortices, and developed extensive new connections with the seat of cognition in the frontal neocortex. He instructed Stralasi’s upgraded lattice to make alterations to the Good Brother’s limbic system so he’d be able to properly coordinate his new, distributed awareness.

  “I’ll still be able to accompany Darian to the Alumitum, won’t I?” Stralasi asked.

  “Of course,” Darak replied. “You’ll be a little disoriented at first. That’ll disappear with a few hours of practice.

  “We’ll leave your Familiar here until you have more time to adjust to one another. He’ll be able to provide valuable analytical backup to you from here, while your human self tries to breach Alum’s local CPPU with Darian.

  “Oh, and your QUEECH comms are routed through another universe so they’ll be undetectable, untraceable, and unblockable. Your two parts will remain in perfect communication the whole time. It won’t be a problem.”

  Instinctively, Stralasi winced.

  Now, why did he have to go and say it won’t be a problem? Isn’t there always a problem when someone says, it won’t be a problem?

  Never mind—he chided himself. You want this and it’s going to be great. For you, for Crissea, and for the Realm.

  Stralasi set aside his residual doubts and misgivings, and submitted to the preparations.

  On the day of the official integration procedure, Stralasi sat on a comfortable chair in a small laboratory tucked deep inside Eso-La’s research facilities. Crissea stood at his side, and took his clammy hand firmly in hers. Darak fiddled with some instruments next to the monk’s would-be Familiar waiting patiently in its cradle.

  My Familiar—Stralasi said to himself.

  Hi, Familiar. You look familiar—he joked, and laughed quietly at his childish humor. His breath rattled with the effort required to suppress a nervous giggle.

  Oh, good grief! Get a grip, Brother—he commanded himself.

  He clutched Crissea’s hand.

  Today is the day I lose my humanity—he thought. For the love of a woman of Eso-La, no less. Who would have believed it? Me, Ontro nem Stralasi, Brother of the Alumit, Steward of eight Founding worlds, future Representative of Gargus 718.5 in the Judgment of Alum’s Divine Plan.

  I can hardly believe it, myself. It’s not Crissea’s fault; I brought it up. Mind you, I only half-meant it at the time. I mean, who but an Esu would take such an obviously flippant suggestion seriously?

  Brother Stralasi felt suddenly exposed and self-conscious. A bead of cold sweat formed at his hairline. He hoped nobody could hear his mental babbling. He struggled to squelch the torrent of uncertainty that threatened to push him up out of his chair and send him screaming from the room.

  He turned to Crissea and spoke more casually than he felt.

  “So, tell me more about what it’s like to see the world through two sets of eyes. What’s it like, thinking with two completely different brains?”

  “It’s difficult to explain,” Crissea replied. “We’ve lived like this for as long as I can remember. Our lattices have been configured in such a way that this is what it means to be human, for us. We’re not complete without our Familiar selves. How do I explain how it feels to be distributed to someone who’s never experienced it, especially when I’ve never really known anything else?”

  Stralasi nodded.

  “No, I suppose it’s not something one could easily describe. I get that. But, for me, this isn’t something I’ve grown up with.”

  He gestured at the Familiar with a wag of his chin.

  “Nor it....uhh…him, for that matter. See? Even pronouns! I have so much to learn. It’s going to be a steep learning curve.”

  Sensing the reference, the Familiar spoke up.
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  “They call me Nem, for now,” it said, “as in, part of Ontro nem Stralasi.” “Once we’re merged, the ‘Nem’ will be dropped. And, no, I don’t anticipate much disruption in my self-identity, what little there is of it. I am part of you or, more like, I am an extension of you. I am you, and you are me.”

  That’s so weird!—Stralasi thought. The voice sounded identical to his own, but with an electronic tone.

  “Mostly you, anyway,” Nem assured him.

  “That’s true,” Crissea added. “Nem was created from a simpler representation of your own concepta and persona. He’s only spent a few weeks inworld forming some of his own experiences and becoming a Full persona. The two of you should be able to merge seamlessly. You’re practically identical twins already, mentally.”

  Stralasi frowned. “But not quite.”

  “No, not quite,” Darak confirmed, without turning from his instruments.

  Stralasi realized his mentor had been monitoring the conversation while comparing Human and Familiar conceptas for potential issues.

  While simultaneously discussing battle plans with Darya and Darian, modeling how to disrupt the deplosion fields, designing a universe or two, and considering each of our travel routes.

  Just how many ideas can Darak’s extended brain deal with at a time? Has he ever encountered that limit?—Stralasi wondered.

  What will my own limits be once I’m distributed? Double? More than double? My consciousness will be split across two perceptions. Two different kinds of brains with two different thought processes working together.

  Will it be worth it, my love?

  His eyes sought the answer to his silent question in Crissea’s face.

  Before the monk could glean an answer, Darak stood up from his instruments and joined the couple.

  “All good. We’re ready to begin,” he said, and placed a reassuring hand on Stralasi’s shoulder.

  “Are you ready, Ontro?”

  Ontro?—Stralasi’s eyes widened. He wasn’t used to Darak using his given name. Trying to comfort the nervous patient with unaccustomed familiarity, are we, Darak?

  And that’s when Stralasi realized—This is all for show.

  He looked around the spartan lab: a few comfortable chairs, a harness for the Familiar so it wouldn’t have to float during the merger, a bank of displays, and not much else. The real displays were virtual, the sensors and monitors hidden, the instruments that carried out the actual merger were either nanoscopic or pure software.

  The technology here on Eso-La was more advanced than what he’d worked with in the Realm. Here, something that looked like a twig could either kill you with a deadly beam or heal you of a disease. Technological “magic” delivered by simple forms filled with invisible layers of complexity.

  Stralasi nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Darak leaned toward the control panel beside him and pushed a button.

  “Okay, here we go.”

  * * *

  Stralasi had half A second to realize that pushing the button was only symbolic.

  And then he was drowning in confusion, seeing double, and losing consciousness while his world rearranged itself.

  When he came to, the first thing he noticed was a new richness of vision.

  Of course. The Familiar has full 360 degree sensors—he thought with his two minds.

  It took a moment to merge the Familiar’s perception with that of his own eyes, but he did it. It was like trying to force normal binocular fusion between his two human eyes when he was tired. The images blurred, aligned, and became one.

  The Familiar viewed its surroundings in the full electromagnetic spectrum, from gamma rays and ultraviolet down through visible light, infrared, and into the microwave and radio wave sections. It was complex and beautiful.

  Stralasi picked up residual emissions of the unprotected circuitry behind the panels at Darak’s side. For the first time, he could see the explosion of colorful patterns in Crissea’s skin and clothing.

  Other perceptions flooded in.

  His Familiar’s auditory and olfactory sensors fed unfamiliar sounds and rich smells to Stralasi’s lattice. He recognized the scent of Crissea’s sweat and the slight increase in her heart rate that accompanied her anxiety. He felt the languid movement of air circulating in the lab.

  With a little concentration, he extended his Familiar’s tentacles, first the powerful manipulators and then the fine, delicate digits, all the way to their tips. He could sense the latent power in the manipulators, the strength of the Familiar’s cerametallic carapace.

  No propulsion—he noticed. Ah, right, there’d be no need for it. Darak was equipping all the new Cybrids and Familiars with shifting capabilities.

  Stralasi’s Familiar glided up from its harness as he shifted his robotic body smoothly and continuously against the pull of the floor. Part of him sensed—no, experienced—the movement. It felt like flying, only more controlled, more precise. He could as easily jump a hundred kilometers as a hundred microns!

  SENSORIMOTOR INTEGRATION COMPLETE.

  Darak’s message appeared like writing in the air.

  INITIATING PHASE TWO.

  Phase two? Stralasi barely had time to form the question in his mind before the lab dissolved into a golden haze.

  Two endless gray planes appeared, one above his virtual perspective and one below. A web of green and blue interconnected nodes grew brighter in each of the planes.

  Conceptas!

  Stralasi recognized the rich association networks, though he’d never experienced them from outside of his own thoughts.

  He wandered between the two planes, awed by the schematic representation of everything he knew and believed.

  And everything my young Familiar knows and believes, too.

  There were many similarities, as well as some crucial differences.

  His Familiar—Nem—had been raised from instantiation in Eso-La’s Eterna inworld, free from indoctrination by the Alumit. Stralasi’s own upbringing had been drenched in faith from before his birth. Prayers three-times a day, countless incantations to Alum for everyday services and products, and endless gratitude for every morsel of food, for community, and for all life.

  Stralasi’s universe had always been permeated with Alum’s love. It was the force that bound everything together and made everything work. Alum’s love produced light. His love powered electrical devices and made matter whole. It animated plants, animals, birds, insects, and microbes. It filled the skies with stars, suns, planets, and ringworlds. Alum’s love was the basis of all existence.

  Whereas Stralasi had learned that the universe and everything in it was a gift from Alum, Nem had learned how that universe actually worked.

  Nem knew about physics, chemistry, biology, and math. He knew about elementary particles and energetic forces. He knew about the curvature of spacetime that represented the relentless pull of gravity. He knew about the expansion of the universe, how it was pushed by the spontaneous creation of new matter and pulled by the surrounding void, the Chaos.

  Stralasi’s religious worldview and Nem’s scientific framework faced each other across a gap as wide as the chasm of empty space between worlds. The alignment of the two concept-networks on facing planes made the discrepancies all the more vivid.

  Stralasi was at a loss as to how to proceed. Did he have to pick one or the other? Throw one away? If so, which one? Was there some way to reconcile them?

  WOULD YOU LIKE HELP, ONTRO?

  It was Darak again.

  “I don’t know where to begin!” Stralasi shouted into the void.

  LOOK FOR CONSISTENCY—Darak replied.

  LOOK FOR COMPLETENESS.

  Stralasi examined both conceptas more closely.

  In the one he thought of as his own, many links ended abruptly in question marks or looped back on themselves in closed, self-referential circles. Many ended at a node simply labeled “Alum,” as if that were all the explanation one needed.

  Th
e concepts he associated with Nem’s knowledge base were broader and deeper. Nem’s conceptual frameworks ended in evidence, in memories of personal observation, or in documented observations by others, fortified by cross-referenced support.

  Stralasi plucked at a few of the links and was rewarded with a deluge of detailed data.

  At first, he was overwhelmed by the abundance of information. He selected a few links, followed them deeper, and soon found himself gaining greater and greater comprehension.

  His deepest exploration ran up against a dead-end, an assumption of the elementary particles of nature and the laws that described how they interacted.

  Interesting. He could see what was true, just not why.

  The wealth of knowledge had been impressive to this point but even he, in the depth of his ignorance, could tell it was incomplete.

  “Why does this branch end here? Is there nothing else?” he demanded. “Is this no more than a deeper kind of faith, a more elaborate belief system?”

  THERE’S MORE, OR I COULD NOT DO WHAT I DO—Darak answered.

  He revealed a few more layers, and glimpses of a deeper basis for why the universe was as it was.

  Stralasi followed the new concepts a little further, enough to get the sense of what lay beneath reality. He could almost sense the path to godhood.

  ENOUGH FOR NOW—Darak said, and he veiled the deeper layers from Stralasi as they had been at the start.

  THIS IS FOR ANOTHER TIME.

  YOU HAVE ENOUGH TO DECIDE WHO YOU WILL BECOME AND TO COMPLETE THE MERGING.

  Stralasi could see it was true. There was a comforting certainty in the beliefs he’d grown up with. It was a certainty born of ease, of suppressing curiosity, and of mistaking doctrine for comprehension.

  Not fully satisfied, Stralasi’s curiosity pushed him to confront one final, uncomfortable question.

  If Alum’s love fills this universe, why does He yearn to destroy it?

  And, just like that, his mind was made up. He knew the way forward.

  “I choose to understand,” he said.

  He reached out with imaginary hands, drawing the opposing conceptas together, weaving a single, intricate fabric from the threads.