by Scott Meyer
Jimmy braced his legs on one side of the doorframe. Miller braced against the door itself. Murphy’s second hand joined his first on the edge of the opening, then the very top of his head appeared. He was now standing on the floor of the boxcar, but would not be able to climb up on the stack of boxes without help. Jimmy took one hand, Miller took the other, and with much pulling, kicking, and cursing, he was pulled up onto the surface like a landed fish.
“What’s the news?” Miller shouted.
Murphy lay there, panting from the exertion and the stress. Between gulps of air he yelled, “They have a facility set aside for us, and suitable transportation will be waiting at the rail yard’s employee parking lot. All we have to do is wait for the cover of darkness, then sneak out past the railroad dicks.”
“Excellent,” Jimmy said. “This is great news. Smile, gentlemen. Things are going well!”
That was the last straw. Miller shrieked, “Going well?! I’m sick, I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours in two days, and Murph is having to risk his life twice a day to talk to someone that we both avoid when we’re in the same building as him. Then, to top it all off, we just found out that we’re going to have to slink into the city where we both live like criminals!”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “Isn’t it exciting?”
Miller looked at Jimmy, who beamed at him. He looked at Murphy, who shrugged, as if to say Well, he’s got a point. Miller considered yelling at them both some more, but instead he simply relaxed and allowed himself to fall between the boxes, down to the bottom of the squeaking cardboard crevasse. There, he hoped to find some peace.
17.
Phillip’s trip to meet with Brit the Elder was actually rather pleasant. Once he realized that neither of the guards escorting him had any idea why she wanted to see him, their conversation turned to a more pleasant subject: Martin. Ampyx spent the entire trip asking Phillip pointed questions about Martin, questions Phillip was happy to answer.
“He’s impulsive,” Phillip said. “He acts without thinking. He makes the same mistakes over and over and when he finally does learn his lesson, he often forgets it within a few hours.”
“He sounds irritating,” Ampyx said.
“Oh yes! He’ll irritate you.”
“You don’t seem to like him much.”
“On the contrary, he’s quickly become my best friend,” Phillip said.
“If he’s irritating and stupid, why be friends with him?”
“Oh, he’s not stupid, just a slow learner. Stupid people are useless. Slow learners are tremendous fun to jerk around.”
Finally, they arrived at Brit the Elder’s patio, where he had first arrived in Atlantis just the day before. There was a table, two chairs, two empty glasses, and a pitcher of some refreshing-looking reddish drink. The two guards took their leave of Phillip, telling him that Brit the Elder would be with him shortly.
Phillip walked to the railing and looked up at the city. It was getting close to evening. Due to the unique bowl-like shape of Atlantis, most of the city was in shadow. Only one part of the city still had direct sunlight, a small crescent along the far upper rim. The darkness of the rest of town made it stand out even more. The sky was a brilliant blue disk overhead, and the city was dark and cool. Lights were slowly beginning to come on, just a few for now, but with each passing moment there were more, and as they did, the buildings themselves glowed. You could see light and shadow moving within the buildings, not so well that you could tell what was happening, but enough to let you know that something was going on, and that it seemed pleasant.
Phillip wondered about the lights. He knew that his quarters had artificial lights. Brit’s did as well. He knew that the vast majority of the people who lived in Atlantis didn’t have the powers that he and his magical/time-traveling kind did. He wondered if they used candles, oil lamps, or some other lighting method he didn’t know about.
Phillip was startled when a voice behind him said, “Magical.” He jumped then spun around to see Brit the Elder standing behind him. He still couldn’t get used to it. She had the same face. The same glasses. The hairstyle was different, but the hair color was the same.
“The lights,” Brit clarified. “They’re magical. Computer generated, if you prefer to call it that.” She walked to the railing, standing closer to Phillip than he was comfortable with. He was happy to have her stand that close, which is what made him uncomfortable. “Of course,” Brit continued, “all of their methods of creating light before I got here were variations on the theme of ‘burning something.’ It’s really dangerous and wasteful when you think about it. Instead, I set up light sources. You make a light. Make a switch. Tell the system that one controls the other. You know how it works. You used the same basic technique to make the lights in your rumpus room.”
Phillip looked down at her. “You know about my rumpus room?”
Brit replied, “Phillip, I’ve ridden in your Fiero.”
Phillip noticed that she had the same smile as Brit the Younger as well.
“Anyway, when people move to Atlantis, part of the bargain is that they get free light, heat, and garbage and waste removal. It’s funny. I became a time traveler and a sorceress just to end up going into the utilities business.”
“So, all of the city’s necessary functions are handled by magic,” Phillip said. “That answers a lot of my questions, but don’t the locals want to know how things work?”
“Did the modern people we left behind?”
Phillip said, “Yes, they did. The libraries were full of books about how every single thing in the world worked.”
Brit took Phillip by the arm and led him across the patio to the table. She did it so smoothly that he didn’t even notice it was happening until they were almost there.
“Yes, that’s true,” Brit said, “but how many people actually read those books? How many know how to rewire a lamp, or fix their own toilet?”
They reached the table. Brit poured two glasses of whatever the reddish drink was and they both had a seat. Brit continued, “People say that they want to know how things work, but really, most of them just want to know why things work.”
“Why they work?” Phillip asked.
“Yes,” Brit said. “You know, ‘I flip the switch and the lamp turns on because of electricity.’ Or, ‘I put gas in the car, it burns, and the car moves.’ Or, ‘I press this thingy, that thingy lights up because Brit made it work with magic.’ It’s all the same to them. Please, have a drink.”
Brit took a long drink from her glass. Phillip followed suit. “What is this?” he asked.
“Hi-C. I’ve loved the stuff ever since I was a kid.” Brit took another appreciative drink, the spent a moment silently studying Phillip. Finally she asked, “How’d you like the giant squid?”
Phillip was surprised. Then he was surprised at himself for being surprised. “The squid was amazing,” he said. “I could have done without the swim afterwards though.”
“Yes,” Brit agreed, “not a pleasant way to end the trip, but still, memorable.”
“Clearly, since you seem to remember it,” Phillip said.
Every time Phillip thought Brit’s smile was as bright as it could be, it found a way to get a bit brighter. “Yes, I remember it well. I only took you to see the coral reef because it seemed like a nice, touristy kind of thing to show you. I was happy when it bored you. Your reaction to the squid made me even happier. It was good of you to listening to my whining. Sorry about that.”
Phillip bristled a bit. “I wouldn’t call it whining. Brit the Younger has some legitimate complaints.”
Brit the elder shook her head. “Phillip, there’s no need to defend me to me. I know exactly what my complaints were. I made some good points. It certainly wasn’t easy being Brit the Younger, but it’s not really easy being anybody, is it? She thinks it’s hard being her, but sh
e hasn’t tried being me yet.”
“You think you have it harder than she does?” Phillip asked.
“Not harder, just differently hard. You’re what, forty years old physically, fifty or so chronologically?”
“Yes.
“Well, Brit the Younger and I are both twenty-eight physically. She’s thirty-nine chronologically. I am 167. She’s a little over a quarter my age. Think back to what you were like when you were thirteen.”
Phillip thought about it. It was not pleasant.
“No need to tell me what you were like,” Brit said. “The grimace on your face says it all. Now, imagine spending the next fifty years of your life living with you at age thirteen, or, to be fair, let’s make it twenty. Imagine watching twenty-year-old Phil the Younger live the life you led, express the opinions that now make you wince, make the mistakes you remember painfully. Now imagine that you cannot, under any circumstances interfere, because you know those experiences will make him the person he needs to become.”
“You.”
“Well, you in this example, but you’re right, I am talking about me.”
Phillip thought for a moment, then said, “You make a good point, but that doesn’t excuse all of your behavior. You’re taking credit for her ideas.”
“I’m her. They’re my ideas, too, and when I get credit for them, she gets it as well.”
“It doesn’t feel that way to her.”
Brit stood up. “Not yet, but it will.” She offered her hand. “Please come with me, Phillip. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
Phillip stood up, and again, Brit the Elder deftly took him by the arm and led him, this time down the steps of the patio and into the park that made up the center of the city. The sliver of the bowl that was still receiving direct sunlight was bathed in the orange glow that told Phillip it was sunset. The reflected light gave the rest of the city a golden aura. Even more of the city’s lights had come on, making the entire panorama surrounding them look like a patchwork quilt made out of light. The path through the park was lined with lights, but rather than being hung from poles, they were simply balls of pure white light suspended in space, casting a glow on the path beneath.
As they walked, Phillip said, “If you remember our trip to see the squid—”
Brit looked up at him and interrupted, “Like it was yesterday.”
“It was today,” Phillip said. “Anyway, then you’ll remember my theory.”
Phillip expected that to sour her mood, but it did not. She said, “You mean that I am not actually me?” She let that hang in the air for a moment before correcting herself, “Her, I mean.”
“Yes,” Phillip said. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that I’m totally wrong.”
“No, Phillip. You’re not totally wrong. I think you’re about fifty percent wrong.”
Phillip said, “Well, that’s not so bad, I guess.”
Brit said, “I know that I . . . she told you how things happened from her point of view. Let me tell you how they happened from mine. I’ll make it quick, because most of it will sound familiar. I decided to come to Atlantis. I did some research, picked a time and place, and thought, ‘If it isn’t there already, I can always jump further back and build it myself.’ Then I made the jump, and the city, much as you see it now, was here waiting for me, along with a woman who claimed to be me but older.”
Phillip said, “But logically, if you built Atlantis, it can’t have been here when you got here.”
Brit reached up and poked Phillip’s nose. “Exactly. I think you’re right, Phillip. I think the program did pause reality and did create an avatar of me that found no Atlantis here, then went back in time and built it according to how it knew I would. Then, when it got back to the point where I turned up, it restarted reality so I could experience it firsthand.”
Phillip said, “But then, after fifty years you go back in time to do what, make Atlantis again?”
“No, I make Atlantis for the first time, exactly as the projection of me did before. The program knew exactly what I would do when it built it the first time. It’s no surprise that when it was my turn I did exactly the same thing.”
“Interesting,” Phillip said, “but still, how can you prove that you’re really you and not a simulated you?”
“I can’t. All I can tell you is that I am absolutely certain that I am me, that I used to be her, and that I know everything that has happened to us in the intervening time while she becomes me.”
“Of course, that’s exactly what a projection of you would say as well.”
Brit looked up at Phillip. “Do I look like a computer projection to you?”
“Yes, but everybody does, because we both know that that’s what we are.”
Brit squeezed his arm and said, “Touché.”
They walked on in silence for a few moments. Phillip saw that they were walking toward the monument that stood in the middle of the park. It was a polished white spire that rose from the center of the park, which was itself the center of the city. It gave the impression of being the spindle around which the city revolved. Phillip asked Brit the Elder where they were going.
“Exactly where it looks like we’re going,” she said. “Philip, I owe you an apology. I’ve misled you. A long time ago, earlier today to you, I told you that I . . . me, was taking credit for my . . . her, ideas. There’s some truth to that, but what I didn’t say at the time was that I only really had two ideas.”
“What?” Phillip said, stopping in his tracks. “You built this entire city. I mean, Brit the Younger’s point is that she had all of the ideas that you built the city with, and that you got the credit for it. Are you telling me that you built this place with only two ideas?”
Brit laughed pleasantly and started leading Phillip forward again. “No, not at all. It took hundreds of ideas to make this place work. All I’m saying is at the time that I transported back to this time in the first place, I had only had two of them: fabricating objects one atom at a time using automated algorithms, and using those objects to create complex mechanisms with few or no actual moving parts. I liked the simplicity of it. It felt very Charles Eames to me. Anyway, I got here and the city was already built, so I just took notice of how everything worked. Later, when I went back in time and started building, I realized how many details there were, and how many problems needed to be solved, so I had to fall back on the things I remembered from when I was Brit the Younger.”
“Are you’re saying that the ideas just sort of spontaneously happened, and thanks to the loop in your time line it’s impossible to know which of you came up with them?” Phillip asked.
“No,” Brit said, and stopped walking. “I know exactly who came up with the ideas.” They were directly in front of the obelisk now. At its base there was a squared section, covered with engraved writing. Brit let go of Phillip’s arm, gestured toward the monument, and said, “Go read what it says.”
Phillip walked toward the monument, eventually getting close enough to make it out. It read, “The city of Atlantis would neither exist nor function without the contributions of the following people.” Beneath that were a great many names, listed in alphabetical order. Phillip scanned the list. He, Martin, and Gwen were all listed, as were Jeff and, strangely, Jeff’s trainee Roy. As he read, Brit walked up beside him.
“When I first got here and saw this list, I figured it was just people who had been supportive, or offered the occasional bit of advice. It wasn’t until I actually started building the place that I realized these are all people from whom I copied some idea, some bit of code, some functioning idea, and incorporated it into the city.”
Phillip turned on Brit. “You mean you stole ideas from all of these people?”
Brit just smiled. “I don’t think stole is the right word, Phillip. You’ve made all of your work available to the wizards in your
community to use. You haven’t attempted to patent anything. You’re not exploiting any of your ideas for profit, except for creating money from thin air of course, but you’re hardly the only one of us to come up with that. I am giving you credit. Part of this summit’s purpose is so I can talk to the leader of each group and show them the monument. If I wanted to steal the ideas, I could just claim to have thought of them first. After all, I did use them first.”
Phillip put up a hand to stop her. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m a little sensitive about people taking credit for my ideas.”
Brit took his arm again, and squeezed it reassuringly. “I know. It’s one of the things you and younger me had in common. You’ll notice that your old friend Jimmy’s name isn’t on there.”
“Good,” Phillip said. “So, what ideas of mine did you end up using?”
“Two things. One, you know the interface you created to help you manipulate the file? You call it ‘the shell.’ We call ours ‘the interface,’ but if you look at it, you’ll see that it functions in much the same way. That’s an idea that has caught on much more widely than I think you know. All of the communities have some version of it. Some even use chunks of your original source code.”
“Really?”
“A good idea spreads fast.”
Phillip liked the idea that he had made life better for many people. He couldn’t resist asking, “What’s the other idea you used?”
Brit smirked, and said, “You mean you haven’t noticed the lavatories? All of the restrooms in the city work on the same principle as the one in your home.”
