by Paul Anlee
Mary stared back at the table in the middle of the room. “So…is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“What I’m hearing on the street. Did we conduct an attack on the deplosion machines?”
Darya looked away. She’d purposely not infected Mary with the Alternus belief-altering virus so that she could have someone on her team with independent moral guidelines, someone who wouldn’t be afraid to challenge her thinking. It was time to put that decision to a test. She decided to tell her the truth. “Yes, we did.”
“All of them?”
“No, not all. We only had enough recruits for about five percent.”
Mary calculated. “That’s a million Cybrid lives, Darya.” She didn’t need to ask, “How could you?” It was written all over her face.
Darya could only nod. Her throat constricted and she fought back the tears that threatened to flow. She took a deep, shaky breath and held it in until she couldn’t any longer. “It was a huge sacrifice,” she whispered.
“Were any of them actually volunteers?”
“They were all volunteers.”
Mary looked directly into Darya’s eyes and challenged, “Real volunteers? Did they use their own free will in deciding to volunteer?”
Darya realized what she meant. “Yes, they did. I haven’t activated the virus to that level yet, if that’s what you mean,” she replied. “I only tweaked the visitors’ curiosity to get them to attend the first meeting. The rest was good old-fashioned convincing. No one was forced.”
Mary relaxed. “That doesn’t change the number of lives lost, but at least they decided on their own,” she said. “More or less.”
“Being here for themselves, seeing Alternus on the verge of destroying itself like this, observing how power is inevitably and unavoidable corrupting in spite of our very best and creative efforts to prevent it, that’s a powerful lesson. It changes people’s minds.”
Mary nodded, reluctantly accepting the need for the painful sacrifice of so many. “So, do we proceed as planned?” she asked.
“We proceed.”
19
God was angry. Shard Trillian was all too aware of that. Indeed, He must be furious, judging by the content and cool tone of the message He had used to summon the Shard. And why shouldn’t He be?
The simultaneous act of self-destruction by a million of His loyal Cybrids—which, not coincidentally, took out a significant percentage of the deplosion array—was outrageous. It would have been impossible to contemplate…if it hadn’t actually happened.
Arriving at Starstep One, the jumping off point to the Hall of Alum, Shard Trillian was surprised to find he wasn’t the only one who’d been summoned. Within moments of his arrival, the Angel Mika appeared. The Angel seemed just as surprised to see the Shard already there.
Joint audiences with Alum were rare. The Living God preferred to deal with His advisors, administrators, and other agents individually, privately. The two servants of Alum greeted each other warily.
“What do you make of this?” asked the Angel, waving his hands vaguely to indicate their shared presence.
“It would be no more than speculation without hearing the Word of Our Lord,” replied Trillian noncommittally.
“This doesn’t trouble you or pique your curiosity? Our respective branches of the Alumit are not known for their collaborative efforts.”
“Strange times call for strange partnerships,” Trillian answered obliquely.
Mika muttered, “Hmm,” and moved toward the viewing window. Starstep One was housed on a nondescript asteroid just outside Mars orbit in the Origin system once known by the name of its sun, Sol. Except for this small receiving chamber on the surface, no other modifications had been made to the planetoid.
The chamber and its starstep were uninhabited by either Cybrid or human. Everything was controlled through permanent, non-autonomous, resident computers directed by Alum. It was the ultimate security for traffic in and out of the system as it relied on no one but the Living God Himself to activate it.
Trillian joined Mika at the portal. The view was unsettling. The other asteroids around them were scarcely visible, occasional tiny pinpoints of light against a black background. All very mysterious.
Did Alum use the asteroids as a home or were they part of Him? A persistent rumor claimed that He’d spread His essence throughout the distributed computing system housed inside those asteroids, but no one really knew. The few attendant Cybrids assigned to the growth and maintenance of the vast asteroid-based network were unresponsive to any inquiries. Their senses were tuned to look after the machines and to exchange information only with Alum. Everyone and everything else was ignored.
Trillian was deeply impressed by the presence of the Angel. Though Angels were numerous across Alum’s Realm, it was rare to come into contact with them outside of any sizeable conflict. Angels were Alum’s military; their might was proven in various “police actions” against uncooperative outposts or, most notably, in the Aelu Wars. Even there, when the Realm came up against a formidable alien civilization, Angels eventually prevailed. With Alum’s magical help–he amended.
As evidence of their might, one could view debris from the enormous engines of war and burnt-out defensive asteroids littering every habitable solar system in the Virgo galaxy. Twenty million years after Alum’s victory was declared, Angels continued to scour the galaxy, routing out any dark outposts of the enemy.
Not that Shards were second-rate agents. What they lacked in sheer destructive might, they made up for in computational power, aggressive communication systems, and sheer cunning. There had been no electronic, bio-electronic, spintronic, optical, bio-optical, organic, or nanomechanical information or communication system immune to Shard intrusion in over a hundred million years across a thousand galaxies. Though less explosively obvious, Shards were every bit as brutally effective as the Angels in the Aelu Wars.
While the Angels continued to be feared and dreaded as Alum’s enforcers throughout the Realm, the Shards had by and large turned their peacetime efforts to demonstrating Alum’s more loving aspect toward His People. They spread His good deeds and wisdom wherever they went, working through the Alumit to demonstrate the Living God’s love for all.
On a more practical level, they also collected intelligence, managed growth and productivity, analyzed dissent, and directed in-system Cybrid support while spreading Alum’s Grace.
A soft bell chimed to one side of the chamber and a door slid open, revealing another small room with a large viewing port.
Ah, transportation–thought Trillian. He motioned for the Angel to precede him into the small vessel. The door slid shut behind them, and the two stood looking ahead through the single viewport. Colored lights appeared ahead, the guidance lasers of Alum’s Hall awaiting them some hundred thousand klicks away. With a barely perceptible jolt, their ship automatically detached itself from the asteroid known as Starstep One and accelerated, first pinning its occupants firmly to the floor with its artificial gravity.
“One wonders if this is about the damage near Sagittarius A*,” Mika mused without turning.
Trillian cocked one eyebrow at the Angel. “What else could it be?”
Mika stared straight ahead at the colored lights. “I can understand why either of us might be called here, depending on how our Lord intends to investigate the occurrence. Me with my Wing, to provide security should there be any further disruptions. You with your Emissaries, to collect intelligence on the origin of this rebellion, if that’s what it is. But for both of us to be summoned at once is unusual. Excessive.”
“There was a lot of damage.”
“Oh, certainly. But no more than a minor setback in the schedule for our Eternal Lord.”
“Perhaps Alum grows impatient.”
“Mm,” answered the Angel. “I just wonder if there is more happening than readily apparent.”
“Undoubtedly. Alum’s intelligence is ever greater than our own.” Tr
illian pointedly turned back to the view, leaving Mika musing on Alum’s great wisdom and information-gathering capabilities.
Their ship crossed the gap to the asteroid known as Alum’s Hall, with its two passengers silently absorbed in their own thoughts. It docked, and the doors opened to reveal the splendor from which the Living God ruled the Realm of The People.
The magnificence of the Hall was befitting the Lord of the known universe, no less than ten kilometers in diameter, painstakingly carved out of the interior of the planetoid. The inside surface of the polished rock was lined with gold and jewels, the ancient symbols of wealth and power.
Supplicants streamed through one of five hundred docking doors onto landing platforms, passing by priceless art procured throughout the Realm. Many of the works were rescued from ancient Origin; some were appropriated from the vanquished Aelu civilization of the Virgo galaxy. Seekers shuffled in awe along solid diamond walkways that were seamlessly connected to the platforms. Transparent crystalline bridges led to audience stages that floated without visible support near the center of the chamber.
Petitioners to Alum moved toward a gigantic feature at the center of the Hall where The Living God was said to reside. From there, Alum proclaimed His power and majesty for all to see.
In the center of the Hall floated an entire miniature universe, a single galaxy isolated within its own transparent shell. Alum was said to have constructed a model universe of His own design in which He dwelt with His most devoted worshippers.
Despite their numbers, each of the supplicants received a private audience with their Living God. Once they stood on one of the stages, the shell extended an arm outward, shielding everything within it from external curiosity. In this state, the mini-universe took on the appearance of a many-tentacled monster, no doubt contrived to inspire fear and awe in those who came to confer with the Almighty.
Trillian saw that he and Mika were being granted a special, high-priority audience with their Lord. They entered the Hall onto a platform connected to a ruby-red walkway, rather than the normal diamond one.
Instead of extending toward the enclosed galaxy at the center of the Hall, their bridge cut lower across the chamber and ended at a small suspended platform on which stood a wooden door—just a door, no walls, and nothing behind it—leading, if one could trust what they saw, nowhere.
It’s that serious, is it? Their audience would be different from those of the commoners. There’d be no dazzling God of the Universe floating out of the vast emptiness of His Personal galaxy like a brilliant sun. Not for them. They were to meet with God as equals, as men among men.
Such simple deception could leave one to be incautious with one’s word. The Shard resolved to be particularly careful.
As the two approached the unremarkable wooden door at the end of the path, Mika’s façade changed. His flowing quicksilver skin turned to pinkish flesh, his wings melted into his body, and he shrunk a meter in size. Though his beauty was undiminished, he appeared less daunting in human form. Trillian was not fooled for a second.
Mika knocked on the door. A middle-aged man, perfectly normal by all outward appearance, greeted them.
Trillian and the Angel bent down on one knee, bowed their heads in supplication, and intoned a unified, “My Lord.”
Alum smiled and held out his hand. “Rise, My loyal friends. Enter.”
The two rose and passed through the door into a well-appointed but not lavish study. Alum gestured toward a pair of sofas with a coffee table between.
Trillian’s sense of foreboding soared. This display of humility and normalcy was a distinctly troubling sign in the All-Powerful.
“Would you like some refreshments?” Alum asked, playing the gracious host. “I have Proximis coffee and the finest Sirian teas. Unless you would prefer Single Malt Scotch brewed on LN1027, right here in old Sol’s asteroid belt?” he offered, hopefully.
Out of deference to his efforts, Mika and Trillium took a small cup of the strong coffee that was favored throughout the Milky Way. They sipped quietly, waiting for their God to open the conversation. In a terrarium suspended below the glass top of the coffee table, a herd of tiny buffalo were stampeding across a tiny plain.
Alum followed their gazes and smiled fondly. “Nanoffalo,” he explained. “A small-scale replica of an ancient herd animal on Earth. An old indulgence.” He poured himself a coffee and added a shot of scotch on the side. “No sense in adulterating good booze with coffee,” he chuckled. “Although, this old body can still appreciate the alternation in flavors, first one and then the other.”
Neither Mika nor Trillian had any response to that. They set down their half-finished coffees at the same time, casting two cloud-like shadows over the plains below.
Alum noted their actions with some small amusement. He downed his scotch and chased it with a shot of the dark brew a few seconds later. He regarded the two men.
“Where do I begin?” He asked. “Something is wrong in the Realm. This latest attack on the deplosion array demonstrates a worrisome shift. Oh, we’ve had rebellions instigated by the misguided and the bored before.” He waved his hand, relegating those historical efforts to the dustbin of irrelevance. “That’s to be expected when a civilization grows as large as ours. They’ve been of some nuisance, but they’ve never reached the core of the Realm before this.”
“We are Yours to command, my Lord.” Mika held his hands open, ready to accept any order.
“Indeed. Tell Me, have you any insight to offer on this sabotage at the galactic core? Were there any warnings of dissatisfaction among the Cybrid workers leading up to this?” He looked pointedly at Trillian.
The Shard cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There was an incident in the Lysrandia inworld. Some high priestess or princess figure attempting to stir feelings against You. We discovered the movement, if you want to call it that, and quickly shut it down. No real harm done.” He consulted his lattice for the official report. “Hmm. We never did capture the ringleaders.”
“The princess is still at large?”
“That is uncertain. Her real identity remains unknown. The entire scheme was quite complex. Somehow, her inworld presence managed to escape being tangle-tagged in our raid. We traced the source of her illicit connection with the simulation machines back to a particular unauthorized, converted asteroid. We were about to intercede when a nuclear explosion blew the entire thing into millions of fragments. The Cybrid could not have survived it, though her ingenuity and planning does leave some room for doubt.”
Trillian was aware that Alum was fully informed about the entire episode. He could only surmise that He intended for His Shard to feel some discomfort over the situation as he recounted the bungled intervention. He fidgeted nervously with his teaspoon, realized what he was doing, and attempted to hide his nervousness by stirring his coffee. He forced himself to take a casual sip, and spotted Mika in a feeble attempt to suppress a smirk.
“Yes, indeed,” said Alum. “The fact that none of this, neither the illicit use of the inworld nor this secret asteroid, had been detected previously demonstrates a great deal of planning and patience. Cybrids were designed for long term projects, but this indicates an unusual degree of initiative and independence. The dissident also bested the inworld security dragons and the Securitors. How do you suppose she managed that?”
“The conspirator had accomplices,” Trillian explained. “We captured a number of them. Sadly, they knew very little about the organization as a whole and were of little help. They have been wiped, and new personalities have been installed.”
Alum brushed his chin as he thought, an unconscious tendency carried forward from the earliest times. “In ancient days, such complex, covert organization was common among so-called terrorist cells. Nobody alive today would remember methods from that epoch, though. Such tactics would have to be conceived anew, reinvented.”
Not expecting a response, Alum changed topics. “You have heard of the new inworld entertainme
nt that is exceedingly popular right now in the recharge and recreation stations around the array?”
“It is an unfathomable affront to the purpose of the inworlds,” replied Trillian.
“Quite. But it is a fascinatingly accurate portrayal of ancient Earth at the time.”
Trillian was astonished to hear that. “How could that be? No archives with sufficient accuracy survived that period.”
“Outside of my own memories,” Alum corrected.
“Of course.”
“But you are right. It is more likely that the designer made a great deal of very lucky guesses. The alternative is remarkably unlikely.”
“Why have we not shut down this abomination, My Lord?” demanded Lord Mika, before remembering his place.
“The answer to that is perhaps even more interesting,” Alum said, disregarding the Angel’s tone. He straightened and smoothed the weave of the fabric covering His forearm, leaving Trillian and Mika to their imaginations.
“I do not recognize the technology on which the inworld is run,” He finished.
Mika stared at Alum in amazement. Trillian appeared equally stunned. “How is that possible?”
“Exactly. How is that possible? Even gods have limitations, but I would not expect to find any of My limitations exceeded by someone within The Realm.
“Sometimes the quickest way to develop a technology is to work within the physical laws of the universe, rather than around them. This inworld sim uses a new approach to hardware within the existing laws of nature. It is high technology, not magic. Nevertheless, it is a technology I do not recognize. Is it possible we are looking at an external threat?”
“The Aelu?”
“No, nothing we ever found among the Aelu would suggest that. Unless there’s a sophisticated rogue group still in operation.”
Mika fielded the implicit question. “They’d have to be extraordinarily advanced. Could they have eluded our searches over the eons since their conquest? I doubt they could have conducted advanced research under such difficult circumstances, not without the support of their former civilization, and not without us discovering them.”
