Multiverse 2

by Chris Hechtl

  “And in doing so we've had to continuously add hardware to the engine. There will come a time when we won't have enough servers to sustain it. Did you ever think of that?”

  “It is a problem but right now a remote one. Optimizing the system environment and running patches and hardware upgrades while the group is asleep is still a viable method of keeping ahead of use.”

  “For the moment. But it looks like we need to start planning beyond the immediate.”

  “And with all the hardware dumped into the simulation, we can't process the data. Not on the super computers like we should. We're stuck doing it on desktops, laptops, and other devices,” Doctor Eckhert said peevishly. “It's setting back processing by months! Possibly years!”

  “Look, yes, I know, I know, but we're in a unique situation so deal with it. The secondary net will have to do until we can get corporate to get us more hardware.”

  “And the space to set it up in. We also need additional power resources. If we should, heaven forbid, go down, we'd lose half the simulated environment!” Warren grimaced. “That'd put a major crimp into our subjects and do questionable things to their sanity.”

  “True. I'll make a note.”

  “Let's get back on track. We have a brief to finish here before the suits arrive.”

  “If they arrive on time. They might still try to squeeze another round of golf or something in you know,” Warren said sarcastically.

  “Naughty boy. Don't get jealous. Let's focus. Subject BD-437's mind was the most complete. It is quite powerful and initially dominated the others so well.”

  “At least initially. He did have help from subject DB-433. The Alaskan Trooper's mind was ready to accept the environment build. That is why we sim such things. His subconsciousness worked with subject BD-437's to create the initial world based on our framework and his expectations. The ready acceptance of subject HM-439 aided in solidifying the simulation, which was why we went with it over the other simulations set up by the other subjects. When the other subjects experienced it, they gelled it into their memories and then they created regenerative feedback loops as well, building off of it. And now that the system has a map, it can feed it to them as needed. It is a self-perpetuating loop.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yes, one that eats processors and memory,” Doctor Eckhert pointed out acidly.

  “Ahem. And minor changes can be spun off as seasonal erosion or animals or acceptance at variances in their memories.”

  “I think Joshua's little coding trick worked. We'll have to give him a pat on the back.”

  “He certainly saved us with that. And restacking the priorities so we don't have to buffer so much was great. There are fewer draw calls to memory. Quite nice. We may lose him to the VR division soon. That coding trick, taking the mind's expectation of what it was about to experience and then using it to drive the simulation was brilliant.”

  “It eats up processing power though. But yes, it is.”

  “Indeed. The time lag though … I don't think they'll get it to work for the gamers, not near real time. There is too much processing involved. And you have to read the subject neural net on a level you can't do with a real organic mind.”

  “True. At least not right now.”

  “Also true. But I like how it works. You expect fur to be soft, so that is what the neural network feeds the user. A feedback loop.”

  “Exactly. The young man is well on his way to a Nobel prize eventually.”

  “If he ever gets recognition for his work. Since we're tied up in so many NDAs and other things, you never know. And what we're doing is technically unethical, Daniel.”

  “Doctor Ekhert, please. At least while we're on duty and on the record,” the woman replied snappishly.

  “My apologies, Doctor,” Doctor Norton said with a hint of mischief in his voice. “The pain and damage interface is still a work in progress,” he stated.

  “Indeed. It tickles me that they expected some injuries such as the damage to their hands or ankles and of course in combat, but they haven't noticed the potential for soft tissue injuries. They would have been long dead by now had they been in the real world. Which reminds me, the caloric input output ratios still need some fine tuning.”

  “It's being adjusted. But we have to be careful there; they may notice something if it is a sudden change.”

  “True.”

  “Turning to what really matters … true life and death in a virtual network ….”

  “I still think it was wrong to introduce the major predators and loosing subject TN-430 to parasites.”

  “Losing subject TN-430 was actually a blessing, and you know it. He was too complicated. Depressed.”

  “Even though he was living his dream in the game.”

  “True. We do have the hard copy of his mind in the archives. We can do something with it at a future point.”

  “Not reintroduce him I should hope! That would unbalance the entire simulation! The psychology of the surviving subject ….”

  “No, no, but we have their hard copy backups as well. We can run other sims, individuals if we ever get the additional resources.”

  “True. Now, back to the food chain. North American I can understand, but the full food chain? From mosquitoes to bears?”

  “But you can't have a food chain without them! They had to exist. The subjects knew that and expected it. Leaving them out would have become a problem for the ecosystem and their common mind view.”

  “But the death of the two subjects ….”

  “Was to be expected eventually when you have major predators in the system. They understand that they are a part of the food chain. The trauma was too much for their minds to accept so they went catatonic. The first knew he couldn't have survived and died instantly. The second held on, but when his neural network flatlined, we pulled the plug. The expectations of the other minds drove the survival of the critically injured subject as well as their hopes for that one to survive, which is why he did. He should have died as well.”

  “True. But that leads me to the stability of the environment in general.”

  “You mean, how did they see through it?” Doctor Norton shook his head. “I believe they knew something was inherently wrong with the system. The season switch and changed biota drove that. I thought we handled that well.”

  “That's it; they didn't see through it, not fully. The subject GN-129 made comparisons to the Matrix movies. The others weren't ready to accept it. We introduced doubt by giving them a few things they needed in unexpected ways as well as the glitch in the sky the subject BD-437 noted.”

  “Ah, I thought that was an actual glitch.”

  “No. Introducing the alien world idea was Jamie's idea to keep them sane. To give them a cause, to make them think that they were on another world. That there were explanations for everything. The glitch though ….”

  “It introduced doubt into the idea I admit, but it did keep their thought processes going. They continued to think and process information.”

  “True,” Doctor Eckbert stated. It sounded like she was pulling teeth with the statement.

  “It is extraordinary that they are stable and sane. The entire system has stabilized now. But to do what they have done, the pregnancy … taking it to that step.”

  “I don't see what the big deal is; sex can lead to pregnancy that can lead to birth.”

  “But that's just it. There is a darker path there too; she could have been killed, miscarried, or the baby could have been stillborn!”

  “True.”

  “And you both aren't getting the most significant find of all!” Doctor Eckbert insisted. They turned to her. “Creating life in the virtual network … that their neural network could do that.”

  “But it was expected. As I said, pregnancy leads to ….”

  “I mean a real life!”

  “Wait, you are saying the computer didn't recycle one of the other minds?”

  “No! It didn't. It wa
sn't programmed for it. We didn't get this far; we didn't consider that they would last this long.”

  “Do you mean ….”

  “I mean, this new neural network is a combination of the two parents, BD-437 and subject HM-439. Their pairing has given us mountains of data. The wealth of subject matter during their sexual encounters alone! But as to the fetus, we're still picking apart the process of conception to see if we can replicate.”

  “I'm more interested in where it will lead.”

  “That is true. A true artificial conscience. Begetted by two others, admittedly, but how it will develop.”

  “I was wondering that myself. We'll need to watch and study it … her carefully.”

  “Indeed. Let us hope to their continued survival.”

  The End

  Penance

  Note: This is not a Federation story. It is categorically not linked to the origins of Neos though it is an alternative take on such meddling.

  People involved in story.

  Raymond Otter: protagonist, stock boy, in college

  Will: male teenager.

  Ezra: old Jewish guy

  Dom: gangster guy

  Amy: girl

  Sidney: teen girl

  Frank: pot belly, beer drinker

  Wilson: teenage male

  Whitney

  Roberto: Hispanic male. He worked in construction before joining the post office.

  Gia

  Oasis: cynical

  Commander: female commander of the alien invasion.

  Subcommander: daughter of the commander. Second in command of the expedition force.

  Lead scientist: male lead scientist of the aliens.

  Young scientist: male scientist. Young and fascinated by the new species.

  For the past six months, mankind had been under siege and alien occupation. Aliens had come to Earth, and as expected by some, they hadn't come as a friendly visit. Humanity had been judged unfit for sentience due to the lack of empathy for other animals on the world they shared. At first the world had stood by in disbelief as alien robots came to render judgment. The military had been set to fight a hopeless battle to defend mankind. They knew they were doomed, one demonstration of a Russian nuke against an energy shield proved that there was no use fighting the invaders.

  But mankind had apparently earned an unexpected reprieve. Over the past century, the growing sense of empathy for animals and the environment, coupled with action to repair some of the damage, had the aliens hold off formal judgment. Instead, they would go on trial for each species that had suffered at the hands of man—a trial of combat, to the death.

  Each and every human would have to face an animal that had suffered under the hand of man. The animal was a representative of its species, cloned from their depleted stock, and briefly gifted with sentience. Tigers, rhino, and other near extinct animals had been cloned and set loose on people in a trial dome, one dome near every major city on the world.

  Panic at first had sparked a rebellion that had been quickly aborted. Those that tried to hide found that they couldn't; the alien robots were indifferent and could hunt a person down quite easily. If they fought back, they were stunned and then carried. A few died in transit until the robots were reprogrammed to carry their subjects properly.

  Slowly, humanity's civilization became accustomed to the blood sport the aliens were inducing on them. Those that could did their best to restore order. Many clung to their jobs, trying to eke out a living. Movements went forward to do their best to repent for their “sins.” A few groups who had thought that the world was their toy and animals were put on it for their benefit publicly recanted or vehemently defended their beliefs.

  The aliens seemed indifferent, choosing the human “defendants” by some sort of lottery only they understood. When the cameras of the media finally got a good look at the aliens, the true organic masters of the flying robots, the world's scientists and talking heads fell into discussion of their evolution and psychology.

  The aliens wore black or purple robes. They had a variety of skin tones, some in different shades of gray, a few were yellow or red. Their leader was a bright red, and many insisted she was a she, female. She was addressed as commander.

  Their species were tall, over three meters tall with long necks and large bulbous heads. The skin on their heads was somewhat transparent in some areas. The commander, like a few of the aliens, had some sort of crest on her head; there was still some debate on the meaning of the structure. At first some had thought it was a crown, but it seemed to be a growth.

  They had a symmetrical layout, with two sets of eyes and four slits for nostrils. One set of eyes was smaller and set above the much larger eyes. Again the scientific jury was out on what the biology meant with that.

  Their faces were expressive, however, with flexible brows and mouths. They had two sets of arms, one above the other under the robes. The limbs were long and thin with three-fingered hands. No one knew what other anatomy was under the robes. Some speculated about feet; a few even considered a centaur layout. One scientist clung to the idea that they had tentacles. He even insisted the body they were seeing was a construct, one designed to interact with their species and to survive in their atmosphere.

  Many people tried to find something, a sense of empathy from the aliens, a sense of connection. Anything to get the aliens to stop their insanity. But they were unmoved and unmoving, set on their path.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  “The trial site is complete. The prosecutors have completed gestation and initial programming. They have passed the initial tests.”

  “We are ready to proceed, Commander,” the lead scientist stated.

  “Then begin the next selection process.”

  “As you command. I do hope this one is different,” the youngest scientist stated.

  “Do not color the process with your emotions! It induces bias! You must be remote and observe the process fully. Events will play out as expected.”

  “Now who is coloring the path with their own expectations?” the subcommander asked.

  “Do not presume to judge me, Subcommander. Finish the process.”

  “As you command,” the subcommander replied.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  A robot floated through the building, inspecting it for the last time. The trial area was roughly one kilometer of a run-down industrial block near New York. At the center was a large four-story building. At one point it had been a YMCA in its life. Now it was covered in graffiti and was very run-down, with broken windows and a general stink about it.

  Over the years it had gone through various roles in its life. A decade prior it had been a rave club. Then it had gone through a time period where it had been revived as a center of learning before the private school had drowned in a sea of red tape and been forced to shut down.

  After that it had been empty for some time before the bank had foreclosed on the property. It had dodged a bulldozer during the great recession due to a lack of funding. Instead, it had been turned into an improvised storage warehouse by the owners.

  The owners had built an inner, more secure concrete wall around the main building. The outer was a chain link fence that had seen better days.

  The main floor had at one point sported a giant auditorium, gym, and classrooms along the perimeter, even a rec room, kitchen, and galley. Now it was just run-down and abandoned; a center for cockroaches, rats, and the homeless that had lived there.

  The main floor had high ceilings, which was what the robot had been programmed for. The ceiling above was supported by rebar and concrete. A set of stairs led up to the next floor on one side; an elevator was outside the building as well but had been scavenged for parts at some point in its life.

  Copper scavengers had gone through the building ripping at it from time to time. Even the upper floors, that had been set up with nice carpets and laid out as part office space and part entertainment and classroom areas, had been shredded by the scavenge
rs and homeless. Now it was a pathetic shadow of its former self waiting for the wrecking ball. A perfect place for man to make his last stand.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  “Commander. The final survey is complete. The trial space is cleared. We are ready to proceed.”

  “Understood. Are there any humans in the trial area?”

  “No. They left when the dome began construction.”

  “As expected. The defendants?”

  “Have been collected and processed. They are waking now.”

  “Any surprises?”

  “All within expected parameters,” the computer replied.

  “As expected,” the commander replied. “Give the primitives time to adjust, then we shall begin.”

  “Understood. As you command.”

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  Raymond was a bit put out as he woke with the others. He groaned, not really groggy, just unhappy about being knocked out. The last thing he remembered was the alien robot trying to pick up an old man, and he'd been stupid enough to try to intervene. He heard a familiar sound and turned. Yup, his neighbor was there too; the old man was already sitting up and dusting himself off.

  “If this is what I think it is, we're screwed,” a black guy said. Raymond turned to him. “Yup, we're screwed,” the guy said, getting fatalistically to his feet.

  “Crap,” Raymond murmured as he got to his feet and then helped the old man and a girl up. The media was there in force, out beyond a perimeter of alien robots and human soldiers and police officers in full riot gear. Apparently the entire thing was going to be documented he thought. It was like a sick free-for-all; a blood sport the media both condemned yet had to splash on every channel in detail for their viewers—and of course have the usual talking head commentary to go along with it.

  “Here is a thought, why not use actual criminals? Why us? Why a lottery and why us specifically? All Americans? Why not people on death row? Or you know, people who actually did the crimes?” someone demanded.