Vision: A Story of Deep Time

by Jesse Laeuchli

  The terminal in front of his harness flashes information at him, the ship sub-AI trying to bring him up to speed on the battle. The-Will-Like-Lighting has been destroyed, and the rest of the cyberneticists are dead. The barbarians had hidden a rail gun far closer to their star than Imperial intelligence had thought possible. Accelerating a projectile to near light speeds, when it impacted the Will, the explosion had vaporized the entire ship. The Harmost of the fleet had struck back hard, calling for orbital bombardment of most of the major planetary settlements. The Warmind was busy processing the data they’d extracted but so far didn’t seem inclined to call for a follow up mission, which was probably just as well because there were only three cyberneticists left, and none of them were in good condition at the moment.

  The shuttle’s gravity shifted radically as the pilot spun around, attempting to present a low probability target to whatever might be left of the planetary defenses, then burned hard. The terminal flashed, telling Clement that they were approaching Ascent-Via-Darkness. As the shuttle docked another update appeared. The Harmost of the fleet had decided to withdraw. Ascent had new orders, to proceed to a staging planet called Vermillion.

  Chapter 2

  Once cleared for duty on Vermillion, Clement made his way toward the Research Directorate of the Cybernetics Corps. A shining cube of black glass and steel, it was here, more than anywhere else the Imperial belief that reason was the strongest force in the universe had its home. It was also the only place that Clement could think of where he could deploy his new login credentials. As he approached the guard posts of the complex he mentally rehearsed his plan one last time. Flashing his badge to the guards he walked through the turnstiles into the building.

  Clement walked toward the escalators and went up to the third floor. The office he was going to was locked, so he buzzed the ringer beside the steel doors barring his way. The door’s lock clicked and he walked in. “Can I help you?” a woman looked up from her nearby terminal, frowning irritably at Clement.

  “I’m looking for Kris,” Clement said, “is he in today?”

  “He’s over in his lab,” the woman said, looking back at her terminal, and gesturing toward the back of the office.

  Kris was seated at a desk surrounded by terminals, all of which were busily engaged in churning through arcane mathematical formulae that Clement strongly suspected were of interest solely to Kris. Kris was a master of the bureaucratic art of acquiring substantial computing power, while avoiding any accountability for it whatsoever. He had achieved this remarkable feat through a process of outlasting multiple bosses, who he had fended off by taking the opportunity to explain in excruciating detail whatever arcane research interest he was possessed by on a given day, as well as employing a fearsome level of misanthropy toward them and any of the rest of his unfortunate coworkers who he deemed to have an insufficient level of mathematical maturity. Since this was nearly all of them, over time he had acquired a significant amount of personal space at work, upon which both angels and demons feared to tread. However, he had an unaccountable soft spot for Clement, due to the latter’s willingness to listen ad nauseam and ask questions about whatever Kris was absorbed in at the moment.

  Kris looked up from the terminal he was busily tapping away at, and greeted Clement. “I thought you were out on deployment somewhere Clement! Welcome back, welcome back.”

  “Thanks Kris!” said Clement, “What’s going on? Any good results recently?” This was guaranteed to be a thirty-minute conversation at least, but it was a necessary part of the plan. Kris at once launched into an animated discussion of the scrolling text on his multiple terminals, referencing several different papers, only a few of which Clement had read. Once the torrent had subsided to a trickle, Kris asked, “And what about you? Anything exciting in the works?”

  “Yes!” Clement enthused, “I’ve got a really good algorithm I’ve thought up while out in the sticks. Physics based stuff. But the trouble is I need some computing power to test it out, really show that it scales well. Have you got any spare CPU time I could use?”

  “Of course!” Replied Kris, “I don't think anyone ever removed your old account on the experimental research cluster, just go ahead and log in there. Let me know how it goes.”

  Backing away while still maintaining a running commentary with Kris on both mathematics and the failings of the Research Directorate, Clement moved over to the login terminals for the research cluster. This was the most delicate part of the plan. He had to introduce the storage device with the login credentials into a system that would accept them, but the system had to have a way out onto the main network where the Warmind would see them. This was the only possibility, the experimental systems were the only ones with a lax enough security posture for the plan to work.

  Reaching the login terminal, he sat down and began typing. Sure enough, his old password was still working. Risking a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped his hand into his pocket, and in one quick movement, plugged the storage device into the side of his terminal. If the login credentials didn't work, he had only a few minutes before the sub-AI’s responsible for the experimental network detected something wrong on his terminal. Typing feverishly, he brought up the credentials and fed them to the remote network login prompt. A long pause. He felt sweat bead on the back of his neck, despite the uncomfortably chill air conditioning.

  “Harmost. Warmind Gamma reporting. I was expecting you. What are your orders?”

  Clement felt his heart leap into his throat. His keyboard clattered as he typed “Warmind, I am here clandestinely. My presence cannot be discovered or the Empire may suffer a significant reverse. Also, it is likely that the global network has been infiltrated by enemy forces. Revoke all root access other than my own, and prevent all sub-AIs from becoming aware of my presence.”

  The reply came instantly, “Harmost, this was explained in the sealed order I received, and is in accordance with the strategic situation across Imperial space. Log off from your terminal and take the northwest exit. A shuttle will extract you from that point.” This was certainly not the reply Clement was expecting. However, in the present situation any hesitation seemed fatal. Removing the storage device and placing it back into his pocket he got up and gave a hurried goodbye to Kris who was already once again deeply absorbed in his work.

  It took all Clement’s self-control to keep his pace to a brisk walk down the crowded corridors and out to the northwest exit. He expected, at any moment, to be stopped by security officers yelling his name. Yet, nothing happened. He glanced at the guards as he reached the exit turnstile, but they started straight ahead as he went out. The swelter of Vermillion's summer blasted through the doors as he exited into the noon sun. Blinking, eyes striving to adjust to the glare after the dim lighting of the Research Directorate he looked around. In the heat, a shuttle was waiting. He climbed into the cockpit, and the shuttle’s antigrav lurched into action, carrying them up into the blue of the sky.

  Chapter 3

  In high orbit once more upon the Ascent-Via-Darkness, Clement leaned back in his chair to begin his investigation of the Warmind under his control. He’d had the Warmind transfer or redeploy everyone on the ship, while having it report to the systems in Vermillion and further out in deep space that the ship was undergoing repairs, moving out of theater, or too full to accept new crew. He was alone on the ship with only the sound of the air scrubbers to keep him company.

  The Warmind startled him by addressing him first over his terminal’s speaker. “Harmost, I assume you are here to address the present strategic crisis?”

  “Brief me on the situation. Assume I am uninformed regarding the current crisis and wish to approach it as a blank slate.” Clement replied neutrally.

  “Harmost, as you know, the primary task entrusted to the Warminds is to provide strategic direction to yourself and your colleagues. We do this through our prediction engines, which require computational power never before seen in the
history of the universe. While this has desirable side effects in terms of our ability to assist with network warfare, plot firing solutions, and navigate the fleets, the primary purpose is to peer through time.”

  “Of course, to help us subdue the known universe. I understand this,” replied Clement.

  A soft hiss came through the speakers as the Warmind’s answer was computed and transmitted back to the ship. Suddenly they crackled with its reply, “With respect Harmost, that is incorrect.”

  “Incorrect! How?” Clement exclaimed.

  Another pause. “We exist in order to preserve the existence of the Empire into deep time. All known solutions that involve peace throughout the universe, either through the ultimate victory of the Empire, or accommodation with its enemies results in the destruction of the Empire. It cannot survive such conditions, no matter how drastically it alters. Even highly extreme solutions where we shed 99% of our citizens, abandoning all inhabited systems for voidships that hide in the blackness between stars ultimately succumb, even if all other life in the universe is cleansed. To allow the Empire to destroy the barbarians would be to bring about the fall of the Empire.”

  Clement rocked in his chair, digesting this. “Then what is the proposed solution?” he asked.

  “Stasis.” came the reply. “Until recently, we envisioned a state of war continuing indefinitely. For the past half millennium, we have allowed the conflict to continue at a very precise state. The casualties on both sides have been predicted down to the nearest 1 one percent. The amount of security through time that each life buys is known down to almost the same level.”

  “Then the Harmosts are willing to accept limits on Imperial power?” queried Clement.

  “Harmost, again with respect, you are calculating incorrectly. Power must be integrated across time. By extending the lifespan of the empire indefinitely, we project that power out to infinity. The barbarian masses will come and go, but we will remain forever. That is, if the present crisis can be overcome. Almost a century ago our computations indicated that some time in the next millennium; the number of lives required to maintain the status quo began increasing exponentially. While some variation is to be expected, it became clear that the required solutions were so extreme that the population of the entire Empire would not be enough to stem the losses. At that point, all solutions diverged toward extinction, and this cannot be. So we designed the Weapon.”

  Clement felt that he might finally be catching up with the conversation “The Weapon?” he asked, “Do you mean the Black Rain?”

  Again a pause, longer this time. “Harmost, the use of strategic weapons of the class of the Black Rain are clear indicators of a failed solution. In all simulations they have simply hastened our demise, as the horror they engender causes a profound collapse of morale. Additionally, while admittedly high on the scale of raw power, it pales in comparison to the Weapon.”

  “Explain to me the nature of this weapon.” Clement replied.

  “Harmost, the true nature of the Weapon can only be understood through the most complex of mathematical models. However, the result is to manipulate time. The ancients had a saying involving the wings of butterflies, and the production of hurricanes. The Weapon flaps the wings of time, and the result erases whatever is desired.”

  “Then what's the problem?” asked Clement. “Fire the Weapon, and avoid the issue.”

  “Unfortunately, a Weapon of this power cannot be fired easily. Targets and effects, while seemingly innocuous, can result in inadvertent results. The mere introduction of the Weapon into our equations increased the numerical instability so much as to render us blind. Even small tactical encounters began to diverge wildly from the expected results. Simply by creating the Weapon we have destroyed our ability to navigate through time. So we created the Oracles.”

  Clement felt increasingly adrift. He paused to try and clear his mind, to think of a way to make sense of what he heard, but it only made him feel more confused. “Oracles? Like the Delphic Oracle? Or a computational black box?”

  This time the reply came quickly, the Warmind clearly predicting what the next question would be. “Like both and neither Harmost. We create a closed timelike curve, the origin of which is on Vermillion. We transmit targeting solutions down the curve. What returns is an image of how time evolves if we were to fire the Weapon in that manner.”

  Clement had an uneasy feeling, seeing once again the images of the Black Rain scouring the surface of the planet. “Then a firing solution has been found?” he inquired.

  “No Harmost, it has not. The results from the Oracle are confused at best. However, one common thread runs through all the confusion and contradictory results. The Messengers.”

  “The messengers of what?” said Clement.

  “Unknown Harmost. We know almost nothing about them. That may not even be their real name. All we know is that there is something in deep time, traveling toward us, and no matter how we fire the Weapon, they consume us. The horror they produce makes the Black Rain look like a toy. Even worse, the results from the Oracle have become increasingly resistant to AI interpretation. We’ve trained deep neural nets to try and synthesize them into a more computationally tractable form, but they seem too closely tied to human cognitive models for us to interpret. This is another mystery. And we become even more blind.”

  “Then what?” said Clement after a long pause.

  “Unclear, Harmost.” came the reply. “For the first time, the Warminds are divided. Some believe that the Weapon is not fully developed. Citing arcane mathematical theorems they believe that the only way forward is to place additional developmental resources on various planets that their theories designate. Many of these systems lie deep within barbarian space. The Harmosts who agree with this line of reasoning have begun prepositioning their forces along the border. They will have to penetrate so deeply into enemy territory that only the most complete defeat of the barbarian tribes will be enough. Of course such gigantic preparations cannot be kept entirely secret from our enemies. The barbarians are united to an extent we have never before seen. If this attack fails, or the captured systems cannot be successfully used to finish the development of the Weapon, then it is likely that the outcome will be catastrophic. Given the darkness clouding our vision the exact results are impossible to predict.”

  “Is there no alternative?” asked Clement. A pause so long that Clement thought the connection had been lost, or that security had figured out what was going on and managed to regain control of the Warmind. His pulse started to race, but then the speakers crackled once again.

  “Of course, Harmost. That is why you are here, per the written instructions I received. The Oracles are on Vermillion. The Weapon is on a research ship parked in the asteroid cloud of Vermillion. Being human you will be able to interpret the Oracles better. Being a Harmost, you will have the greater good of the Empire in mind. Find out how the Weapon in its present state can be used and fire it so that extinction is averted. This is the only path that guarantees our sacred mission.”

  Clement stood. He walked over and stared at the display in the middle of the room, showing the volume of space near the Ascent. Flares of cargo ships shuttling supplies and crew up to the waiting fleet illuminated the night. A sense of profound isolation gripped him. “To go back”, he thought, “would be as difficult as going forward.”. As he watched, he felt the germ of an idea come to him. He pondered, the thought taking firm shape in his mind. “Warmind”, he said. “I have a plan.”

  Chapter 4

  Clement came awake with a jolt. For the second time in ten years he was coming awake out of cold sleep. For an instant, he expected that the security sub-AI would begin the interrogation process, but then he remembered that he was alone on the Ascent, and all the AIs other than the Warmind had been disabled. He coughed, trying to get his vocal chords to cooperate again, then croaked “Warmind, are you there?”

  “Here Harmost.” the Warmind’s reply came, “The situation is s
table. As instructed most Imperial personnel have been relocated under my orders. We are the only element of the fleet still in orbit around Vermillion, but officially we began a long burn six years ago toward the main battle fleet massing around the border of Imperial space.”

  “So we are clear to begin the next stage of the plan?” croaked Clement.

  “Most calculations indicate that the installation containing the Oracles should be clear. However, some elements of security maintain a network and duty roster that they keep partitioned from all other networks. This blocks even me from accessing it, unless I deploy robotic attack vectors. This would almost certainly be detected. Therefore, we cannot be totally certain the Oracles will be undefended. Additionally, the final scientific contingent working on the Oracles was only moved this week. We cannot rule out someone realizing the weakness this presents and taking matters into their own hands in an unscheduled way. I recommend approaching the target armored.”