by Paul Anlee
Greg walked behind the metal block, turned to face the rifle, and stood a meter to the left, placing the Eater directly between the muzzle and him. He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready to go.”
“Roger. Copy that,” said Kathy. Greg smiled. Somehow, situations like this always made people talk like they were in the military. “First shot on its way,” Kathy reported. She nodded to the volunteer who squeezed the trigger.
Greg looked up to see a distant muzzle flash and the plate beside him shook as a hole appeared through it. In the vacuum, it all happened without a sound. The bullet left a ragged hole in the armor plate behind it before hitting the newly installed reinforced concrete beyond.
They’d calculated the strength and depth of the concrete as well as the force of the bullet several times over before attempting the demonstration. It wouldn’t do to inadvertently punch a hole in the vacuum chamber.
The isolation chamber didn’t implode. That’s a relief—he thought, and let himself breathe again. Now for the second shot.
Greg’s attention was riveted on the rifle as it repositioned to line him up in the sights. Despite their calculations and previous tests, he swallowed uncomfortably. “Ready…” his voice rasped. He cleared his throat. “Ready for next test,” he said.
“Copy that,” Kathy replied.
Greg looked down the rifle barrel which, from his vulnerable position, appeared significantly longer and larger-bored than he remembered. Seconds ticked by. A bead of sweat trickled past his left eye. When the flash came, he flinched instinctively.
“Are you alright, Greg?” Kathy’s voice was calm but concerned.
Am I alright? I don’t know—he thought. Would I feel an armor-piercing bullet go through me, or would it take a few seconds for pain to register? Would I hear the whistle of air leaving my suit, or feel the blood flowing down my leg first?
He focused his senses on his body. Nothing hurt; that was a good sign. He stepped out from behind the Eater. No problem. Everything normal. He realized he hadn’t breathed for a while.
“Everything’s fine,” he exhaled and walked to the airlock door.
An armor piercing bullet was prevented from killing me by a microscopic universe that instantly incorporates everything it touches, and all I can say is, “Everything’s fine.” Greg laughed. His knees felt a bit wobbly, but he was happy to be walking and breathing at all.
He joined the others watching the high-speed video of the bullet. It had encountered the Eater at one thousand fifty meters per second and disappeared from the universe as if it were no more than a shadow.
The demonstrations were convincing. If anyone had harbored any doubt about the Eater after reading the briefing material, Greg’s showmanship had provided the visceral proof they needed.
The final step of the presentation was to compare before and after measurements of the Eater’s diameter. The sphere had grown exactly as he’d predicted or, to be more precise, within a respectable five decimal places of his calculation.
Greg invited any remaining doubters to enter the chamber and touch the Eater. No one took him up on the invitation. He was half surprised.
For the past few days, he’d been expecting, bracing himself, to face angry skepticism and distrust. He’d even decided—If some insufferable fool steps forward bent on losing a finger in order to check it out for themselves, well, I’m prepared to let them do it. At this point, people need to realize the danger and get everyone working together on a solution.
The group listened attentively to the rest of the presentation. He and Kathy took turns explaining the nature of virtual particles, how the Eater continued to feed on them in the chamber, and how there seemed to be no way to stop it. They did their best to balance the presentation to meet the needs of scientists and laypersons.
Kathy shifted the group’s attention to the new RAF generator, and created a few sample microverses to demonstrate how physical properties changed inside them. Showing them the microverses in action would make the science much easier to grasp than laying out the math.
Greg tried not to look annoyed, or away, through this part of her demo. They’d been fighting about it all week long. He didn’t want to show them the RAF device. “Then everyone will want one,” he’d joked, but they both knew it wasn’t a joking matter.
"Isn’t the damage done by the original RAF generator reason enough?” he’d argued, but Kathy wouldn’t budge.
“How can we call ourselves scientists if we can’t let others objectively verify our results?” she’d challenged.
“How can we risk anyone building more of these and unleashing them into the world knowing that even one was enough to threaten that world?” he’d shot back.
Kathy held steady to her conviction that only a compelling and accessible demonstration, one that could be verified through observation, would convince the visiting specialists. In the end, Greg gave in.
Now, as he watched the acceptance set in on the faces of those watching, he was glad she hadn’t relented. She was right. They had to get everyone up to speed as fast as possible, and her demo was effective.
“Wait a minute,” someone objected, near the end of her presentation. “Everything you’ve shown us suggests that these microverses can only exist so long as the RAF generator is activated. How was a stable microverse created? Why can’t you just switch the Eater off like these other ones?”
Greg and Kathy exchanged a brief glance. You’re the theoretical quantum physicist—Kathy sent. You explain.
Greg grimaced. “Right before Dr. Leigh disappeared, he set up a number of experimental conditions that, theoretically, should have been able to create stable microverses. Apparently, the Eater is one such microverse. We haven’t experimented with any of those settings yet.
“Dr. Leigh was about to share his findings with us when he vanished. We’ll probably never know the conditions of its creation. We don’t understand its properties, how it persists, or how to collapse it.”
A soft murmur rose but, to Greg’s relief, the questioner seemed satisfied with his answer. The relief was short-lived.
“Has there been any update on the disappearances of Dr. Leigh and Dr. Rusalov?”
Greg swallowed. “No, I’m afraid not.”
He knew none of this was going to be easy, the questions would keep coming. And after the scientists, they still had to face the politicians.
The plan was to get the scientists up to speed, and they could help advise and pressure on the respective governments. So far, it appeared to be working. Skepticism was giving way to acceptance, if not understanding.
The complexities of the details of RAF theory would be beyond almost everyone for quite some time. Nonetheless, to the scientific mind the conclusion was clear and irrefutable: the Eater was an exigent threat.
Kathy squeezed Greg’s shoulder as she watched the scientists file out of the lab at the end of the morning session. “Well, done, Dr. Mahajani.”
“Thank you, Dr. Liang. To you, too. If only this afternoon’s presentation to the politicians goes as well. I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a nightmare. Even if they believe us, and that’s a long shot in itself, how do you spur world leaders into collaborative action? I’m serious. I can’t even imagine it.”
“I hear you. They all put on a good show of hiring scientists to advise them. They sit through the demos and explanations patiently enough. But do they believe it? Deep down, believe it? Fear it?”
“Yeah, I can see it now. All through the meeting, they’re going to be thinking about how to lay the blame and responsibility, how they can dodge it themselves, how to use this for political gain, how to avoid shelling out money or making any real commitment. Oh, and above all, how to save their political reputations once things turn nasty. And things are going to turn nasty. Very nasty, very fast.”
12
“Okay, okay. Let’s call this meeting to order.” Prime Minister Hudson rapped the gavel sharply agai
nst a worn square of mahogany. This was her first time hosting the G26—the reconfigured version of the old G20 that incorporated the newer developed nations of the world. She was not going to let it run out of control.
Greg surveyed the room. He recognized most of the faces at the head table without the aid of his lattice. They represented an impressive array of prominent figures regularly featured on worldwide news feeds and accustomed to dealing with the world’s problems.
And yet, despite their many years of political and public experience, their eyes and facial micro-movements belied they were uniformly on edge, still reeling from their briefings of the morning’s lab demo and wondering what other surprises might erupt from this unassuming young man and woman seated beside the Pacifica Prime Minister.
Each leader brought their own coterie of three or four advisers, who filled the rows of chairs around the main tables. As requested in the invitation, one member of each team was a scientist, but economists and military advisers far outnumbered those with a technical background. Many had attended the morning demonstration.
Greg shrugged and fidgeted where his suit rubbed up against his skin. It’s not fair. You get to wear a light, airy dress, and I have to walk around in this straightjacket and silk noose—he complained to Kathy via their private lattice.
Beside him, the love of his life laid a calming hand on his leg and squeezed gently. He glanced at her reassuring smile and tried to calm himself.
Oh, yeah? Well, any time you’d like to trade your comfy shoes for these heels, you just let me know!—she sent back.
Greg chortled softly, drawing a glare from the Prime Minister. He cleared his throat and wiggled in his chair, trying to reposition himself to ease the constraints of the fabric.
Kathy watched him fidget. If he couldn’t contain his rising irritation, both internal and external, he was going to blow this. She couldn’t fault him. It was painful to deal with the many and varied layers of bureaucracy they’d been subjected to.
Greg, I know you’re nervous and you’re frustrated with all the political nonsense—watching everybody shuffle their feet when what we need to do is take immediate action. I am, too. But you have to keep in mind, this isn’t any normal presentation. Our lives are riding on the outcome. All our lives, Greg. Everywhere.
No matter how impossible it feels to deal with these guys, no matter how dense or ignorant they seem, no matter how hard it is to be patient and respectful, we can’t let ourselves forget for a second that they have all the power. If we want to get anything done, we have to deal with them on their terms. End of pep talk—She tried to flash a gently reassuring smile but it was too tight-lipped and uncertain to be convincing.
I’ll be okay—he sent back. Prime Minister Hudson will help us with the political wrangling. We’re only here to provide technical support. He recruited his lattice to calm his itches, to hold his head up confidently, and relax his facial muscles.
The Prime Minister of Pacifica jumped straight to the point.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are at this meeting because the planet faces a threat greater than any it has ever known. Greater than the Cold War of the 1950s, greater than the economic depressions of the twenty-first century, and greater than the Global Proxy Wars that have plagued our world since. A crisis even more pressing than global climate change and the desertification that has ravaged so many of our productive lands.
“This threat is not something that can be addressed purely through political will. It is an immediate and physical threat. Negotiations and political maneuvering, alone, won’t save us.
“Your scientists spent the morning reviewing the data and discussing the nature of this threat with Dr. Mahajani and Dr. Liang. Your experts have confirmed the findings: the growth of the microscale universe that our scientists call the ‘Eater’ is unstoppable. They’ve seen for themselves that this thing is capable of absorbing the entire Earth and everything on it, of destroying all life. Observations in the months ahead will allow them to confirm its growth rate. Even though we have isolated it in a dark vacuum chamber, it continues to grow.”
“This is a fiasco,” the Russian President’s deep voice overrode PM Hudson’s. “Your people have created this...this catastrophe and now you want to hold the world hostage? You expect our cooperation in this?”
“They should be in prison,” the German Chancellor added.
The room erupted with angry noise; politicians shouted and jabbed their fingers toward the Prime Minister.
She let it play out a couple of minutes; she appreciated the need to vent a little terror and ire before getting down to strategic planning and crisis recovery on a global scale. The sharp rap of the gavel reigned their attention back in.
“On the next outburst, I will clear the room and you can all go home and wait to die,” the PM shouted. Stunned faces gaped at her, but it worked. The meeting room grew quiet again.
“Thank you. I know this is difficult for all of us. But we don’t have time for accusations and recriminations. Humanity needs us now. We must find a way to work together now.”
Her eyes swept around the table, looking for any challengers. For the moment, the objectors fell silent. She stood upright and continued.
“To my right are Drs. Liang and Mahajani, protégés of Dr. Darian Leigh. As you know, Dr. Leigh and another member of his team, Dr. Rusalov, have been missing for the past several months. Sadly, we must assume some sort of foul play in their disappearance, as there has been no communication from them, or anyone having knowledge of their whereabouts, since late January.
“Though less renowned than Dr. Leigh, Dr. Liang and Dr. Mahajani have intelligence-enhancing dendy lattice systems similar to his. Their personal lattices are newer but no less effective.”
This created a stir around the room. The advising scientists, for the most part, had not emphasized this detail to their superiors. The confession of the super-human intelligences of Greg and Kathy clearly grabbed the politicians’ attention. Many of their universities had attempted to recruit Darian Leigh, but he chose to remain in North America.
Now there were two new lattice-enhanced scientists in the world. The possibility one of them might be available caused a spark of excitement in the room. Lattices for memory recall and communications were common in academic communities, but lattice-based enhanced intelligence was unique to Darian Leigh. And now, to Kathy and Greg.
The Prime Minister continued. “Our scientists...,” she paused to add weight to the word Our, “have spent the months since Dr. Leigh’s disappearance, characterizing the Eater in an attempt to understand how to stop it from growing, and how to destroy it.
“They have attained a deeper understanding of the malleability of natural physical laws and how the...” she glanced at the page on the table before her, “the Reality Assertion Field Generator can be used to create tiny universes where those laws are altered.
“Despite their growing understanding of this new and complex physics, they assure me the threat is real, and they do not know yet how to stop it.”
She surveyed the cautiously concerned faces staring back at her. “Your own scientists have been able to confirm the danger the Eater poses to absolutely every bit and kind of matter, energy, and even virtual particles it encounters.” There was nervous laughter at the mention of virtual particles.
She raised her hands in a plea for patience. “I know. I know. I can’t follow any of this either. We have to trust the experts here.”
“Wasn’t it the experts who got us into this mess?” a voice shouted from the middle of the room. PM Hudson managed to contain her scowl.
“Greg and Kathy…,” Greg noted her deliberate shift to the familiar, “...have assured me they can predict with great accuracy that the Eater will consume its isolation chamber in a little over twenty-two-and-a-half years.” Murmurs and some derisive laughter arose from her audience.
“As politicians, many of us are familiar with such predictions. Frequ
ently, the more accurate they appear, the less reliable they are. But, ladies and gentlemen, physics is not economics. Let’s not forget how accurately the equations of physics can predict the motion of the planets and stars, and how accurately they predict the behavior of the sophisticated electronics we take for granted every day.”
“Not to mention climate change,” the French President said.
“That’s an excellent example,” PM Hudson noted. “Twenty years ago, world leaders ignored the models forecasting the consequences of global warming. They were wrong, and scientific consensus was right. Now, many of our nations are combating the dire consequences they predicted. Physics is unavoidable, no matter how much we may dislike its predictions.
“Greg and Kathy have given us serious warnings about a grave threat to humanity, and that threat comes with a deadline. If we don’t heed the warning, our entire world will be gone—completely gone—in fewer than twenty-three years. We are talking about the end of Earth and the end of humanity.”
The room went silent. Pacifica was not the most powerful nation on the planet and some had questioned whether its Prime Minister should be chairing this meeting. Circumstance thrust the responsibility on her, but a good many eyes in the room turned to the more seasoned representatives of various factions and alliances to see if they were convinced of the seriousness of the threat. Some were, Prime Minister Akira of Japan, for example. Others brazenly showed their scorn.
PM Hudson invited Greg and Kathy to stand up.
“Dr. Liang and Dr. Mahajani have prepared an outline as to how the world should prepare for this unprecedented disaster. They will continue to work relentlessly to understand the Eater, to try to stop it before it destroys the planet. However, there is no guarantee that will be possible.
“In the event the microverse can’t be stopped in the time we have remaining—and that is a strong possibility—we’ve created a twenty-year contingency plan to move a significant portion of humanity out of harm’s way. I’ve invited Dr. Liang and Dr. Mahajani here to explain their plan and to answer your questions.”
