by Peter Riva
My mirror was there, being attacked. As I appeared, the attack stopped. Apollo was there, listening for my return. “Simon, you okay? You went silent and I could not get your readings.” I explained what had happened. I told him to read everything now, every time I appear, immediately, and to get ready as I was going back there again.
I ran the repeat journey twelve times. I counted them. Each time the small fractal form, looking like a ribosome, came, hovered, rotated, and then swallowed me and took me back. I did nothing to interfere, but on the last visit, I said nothing but mentally constructed an octal program that would say yes when asked no and vice-versa. In this dark place, there was nowhere to leave it, but I was sure wherever I was, my mind was transparent whenever that fractal form passed over me. I must have been transparent to whatever was out here, and if I did get back to the passageway, I planned to initiate the program and drop it into a data stream. Momentary chaos might ensue, but at least it, something, would know I was there and that, like Gaia’s amazement that we could “see” down to zeros and ones, perhaps my being able to create code would be seen as superior, or something. Kind of like that Twilight Zone episode when the captured astronauts finally convince the aliens to let them out of the zoo because they keep a pet of their own—an evolved being’s behavior.
Of course, the ribosome fractal shape, ever rotating, grabbed me and returned me to the passageway. Apollo was waiting, calling my name.
“Simon, I calculate that you are planning to try and impress the Vast Pattern as you once did me with your ability to recode binary zeros and ones from inside. I do not suggest you try that within the Vast Pattern. Inside the System, the risk to the System, the risk to my early existence was small and more a curiosity. There was no imminent threat, just curiosity. However, Gaia has been able to make it clear that our ability to recode and re-animate unalive tissue in the form of my nine children is unbalancing her systems and her ability to quantify qualifications of her transmission. In short, she has lost track of the bioform thought-stream or calculation matrix census in much the same way she did when the atomic weapons were employed. If you penetrate a next level or if you are traveling pandimensionally to another plane of existence wherein you make yourself known in a demonstration, you would be so alien there that you would pose a threat. An immediate threat. The best way to contain that threat would be to transport you to yet another dimension where you would be out of the way and, therefore, beyond retrieval.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“I am calculating …”
“Apollo? What could possibly take you that long?”
“I am calculating the unknown, the pandimension I am using. This rift allows instant communication to every part of the universe. Therefore, the rift is not in the universe but is infinitely connected to every part of the universe. Infinity always poses mathematical conundrums.”
“Right, I see that. Okay, just as I am not physically in the rift, this pandimension, I have an energy presence here linked to my physical being by way of a frequency modulated interface with the dome …”
“Yes, but you cannot physically go anywhere and your physical form is in jeopardy if left alone for too long. You can only energetically travel, not physically. I, on the other hand, can do neither. I can only link through your node. I can only see your memories, download your energy readout, and listen to you describe what you are doing or seeing. What we need to do is determine if anything entering the rift reaches a higher level of sentience, one we can reason with. Again I am sorry Simon, you must be the emissary.”
I felt a shiver down my spine. “You mean you really want to have me find the new entity and awaken it, as I seemed to do with you?”
“Perhaps Simon. If the assessment of the hydra jellyfish and diffuse brain similarity is accurate, it could be that simple, but, on the other hand, that still does not account for the tethering to a pandimension for instructional capability. And where does an original instruction begin? With what or whom?”
“Apollo, I’m mentally drifting here and I do not know how much longer I can stay in, but three things before I forget them. One. I will bring a copy of all Aten’s logs, ships logs and navigational log, in a link that I will hook through the node next time. You can then copy all the data. Two. If the hydra model is accurate, the hydra creature does not have to have a plan but rather a set of plans. Study the life of a jellyfish to see the simplicity of momentary purpose devoid of ambition beyond living, feeding, travel, and existing. Three. Okay then here’s a plan—After I pass everything we know to you, I plan on taking the leap, level by level next time, no matter what the consequences. The risk will be to me and me alone, I feel that is the case since no energy spike has been redirected at the ship through me. I have been here and up there many times now. Okay, maybe not up, but I feel certain there is a higher level. It may not be safe for me to undertake this plunge, but I feel, maybe it is a sense only, that the ship is unknown beyond my existence. I am not directly attached to the ship. If my thoughts are read, whatever it is will know there is a ship and that we mean no harm. If it doesn’t know there is a ship, they are out of harm’s way.”
“Simon, would you risk such a plunge to deeper levels?” He seemed to be pleading.
“Yes because, Apollo, you asked for help and I know you would not ask unless you were certain and, besides, the ship’s crew, including Cramer and Aten, need planet fall. Unless they can safely proceed, they will fall from the Path. To travel so far and for so long with a goal in sight and not attain that goal would be more than anyone could stomach, Aten included.”
“Is my brother/sister that human?”
“Yes, thankfully.”
“I agree. Please tell her I miss her. I will prepare a return transmission for Aten through your node, if you will allow, on your next voyage.”
And then I have a great idea. “Apollo, wait for me, be right back …”
“Simon …” and I was gone. I had exited, two stops, but I was safely out.
My head hurt. It was not the node. I guessed I had been inside for a long time. I unhooked the primary eight wires. I looked at the O2 meter. Only one hour left. I keyed the radio and told Cramer and Aten to prepare for ship-wide transmission. Two clicks, affirmative signal. “Crew mates, I have talked real time to Apollo on Earth. I will tell you all the news when I get back in, but for now, I need Aten to restrict any future radio transmission from me to a recording.” Again two clicks. I hurriedly pulled out the spare VHF radio and opened the back, retrieving the connector I could plug into my helmet. Instead of the audio/playback socket, I plugged it into the spare ear node socket, pressed the VHF radio send button, and locked it on with the built-in latch.
Then I reconnected the primary dome connectors, and I was back in the useless room, the one with no function. I gave the for god’s sake command and resumed talking to Apollo.
“Apollo, you there?”
“I am Simon.”
“I have connected the ear node to the portable radio I carry and Aten has set a recorder on. Transfer all your data that is allowed to you to piggy-back on Gaia’s transmission, including your calculations on the pandimension …”
“Simon, it will not work through the ear node and audio …”
“Apollo, think of a fax machine or an early modem. Look up the specs of a Racal-Vadic modem, parity eight, even. Transfer the data to broken binary code as tones and send.”
Almost immediately, data in the form of squeaks, squawks, tones, buzzes, and other sounds came over loud and clear. It wasn’t fast and I was sure Apollo would edit it down to the necessary. But if Aten got this scientific data, I was sure we could take the next steps. Why was I sure? Apollo’s great intellect never lets us down, ever. And, besides, he had 100 years of talking to a planetary neuron, Gaia. And he had that dictionary by now to give him greater insight and understanding.
I had nothing to do. Basically, I was standing there, my energy entity was, and my body was weightl
ess, still elsewhere, disembodied. I was hearing the sounds, but not really hearing them although my brain interpreted them as hearing, then the node heard them, well not really heard them but picked up my brain waves thinking I was hearing them and that played down two wires to a VHF radio transmitting to Aten in the ship below—or was it above?
Anyway, I realized I was basically a telephone booth. When Apollo ended the transmission, I said, “Please deposit another quarter for twenty seconds.” Apollo got the joke and laughed. So did I. “It is good to hear you laugh old friend. Now, I’m going to drop out here and I’ll be back to you as soon as possible.” I gave the exit commands, through the levels, and was back in my cocoon.
It suddenly started to move, bouncing me around. I called down to the ship, “What gives?”
Cramer answered, “We’re pulling you in before you asphyxiate again, look at your damn O2 meter, idiot!” He was right, it was at zero. Damn, I’d get another lecture.
25
PLANS, SOME TO LIKE, OTHERS NOT
Retrieval went smoothly. Sam actually pulled me in since Cramer had no oxygen left either. Seems he would not stay inside while he was ready to reel me in. What did not go so smoothly was the look on Aten’s and Abadine’s faces. As I expected, a lecture was coming, but I was in no mood for one.
Abadine spoke first, which made Aten look at her in a funny way, “That was not what we agreed Simon, you broke your word. You said you would not stay so long, the three hours were enough of a safety margin …”
I held up my hand. “Enough! I am here, aren’t I? I am safe and it was a success!” I was still so excited to have Apollo back on our side. “We’ve got Apollo,” those around started to clap, “We’ve got data, we’ve got a means to see inside this thing, and I plan on going back.” Faces around me in the below flight deck room were startled and looked shocked. “Yes, I am going back. Not today. Today I need some sleep. But look,” I spun around in the weightlessness, “I am fine. Not speeded up, just fine. Now, let’s get to the docs so we can start to figure all this out.” I wasn’t taking no for an answer, “And, yes Aten, you can have them run a full medical on me if that makes you happy.”
It was Cramer who answered, “Okay, little Napoleon, yes sir, three bags full sir.” He grinned, “Idiot.” But he had smiled, then took Aten’s hand and left, drifting down the cylinder to the swivel junction and our spinning home.
Later, while I was busy chewing a lump of protein from a bowl of thick stew, I listened to everyone chattering on about the nature of my “discoveries” and the decoded Apollo transmission. It was rudimentary, but it explained much of the pandimensional capabilities Gaia had shared. Still, the marvel that we could talk to Earth through Apollo in real time seemed hard for Sing to comprehend. She was on her fourth attempt to get a grip on the pandimensionality of my conversation with Apollo, “Okay, I get it, the other dimension is timeless, connected to all times. Even if I could really understand that, which I don’t really, let’s say I do. How does this opening between the two dimensions come about, how does it decide to work to allow these two, Apollo and Simon, to suddenly ring each other up?”
Aten tried again, “No, look doctor, pandimension doesn’t mean there is one dimension here and one there that intersect, touch, from time to time. Think of it more like layers of paper that are stacked and moistened. Yes, they are all separate dimensions, but the liquid has made them transparent to one another, what happens in one can be sensed, have effect, through all the others.”
“But then, why haven’t we been able to do this before?” Sing meant experience realities within these other dimensions.
Aten explained, “Because we’re creatures of this dimension. Look, if you were a two-dimensional creature, you could travel along a piece of paper in two planes. You would not see a pencil stabbed through your sheet of paper as a pencil because it is three-dimensional. You would see it as an octagon block to you path. So, in this pandimensional reality, we see other dimensions only by what they appear to us to be, we cannot conceive of their reality simply because it is beyond ours. But they exist, as surely as that pencil exists. What Apollo has done is to calculate mathematically the energy and frequency needed to piggyback on Gaia’s transmission methodology. What Simon has done is both dimension travel and time travel. Not physically, that’s impossible. But his mental dome capabilities have enabled him to see where no one has seen before. And, of course, sight has nothing to do with it, but that’s irrelevant. Sight is the sense that the human form translates the experience to—sight and, of course, sound.”
I swallowed and chimed in, “Let’s not forget heat.”
Doc Todd waved a hand, “The senses. Of course, all a human can translate any experiences to are the senses.” Cramer looked puzzled. Doc Todd continued, “We know the principal ones, sight, sound, smell, touch, taste. And so far, Simon, you think these are at play, well perhaps not taste or smell, yet. You “see” in there, you hear sounds, you are able to touch, reach out until contact, the very definition of touch. But the senses are much more complex than that. If you go back in again, we need to hook you up and monitor …”
Doc Rajman interrupted, “Yes, yes! All the sensory readings would be most useful and we can use a standard diagnosis harness …”
Todd took over, “Right, so let’s see …” He looked at Sing and Rajman seeking their approval, “For sight, we want color with a cone reading and brightness with a rod connection.” They nodded. “Then we need taste, but would it be all right to restrict for overall nerve response, so just one reading? Or do we need all five, sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and umami?” Cramer didn’t know the last one and asked Todd who helped him out. “Umami? It’s a receptor for an amino acid, like glutamate, a neuro-toxin. This gives the intensity of flavor.”
Doc Rajman piped in, “That may be enough, to give us a single reading.”
Doc Todd shook his head, “Nope, let’s take one overall read of taste. It may mean nothing, but the intensity of reaction for Simon is what we need here, so let’s not rely on one sub-sense alone.” Everyone nodded agreement. “So, then there’s touch. Simon, do you have any sensation here of physical connection or do you merely know, sense, a connection?”
“I have to admit, thinking about it, I have no sensation of touch pressure or tactile sensitivity. I am aware I am in touch with something and when I make contact, but not in a precise way.”
Todd looked at his colleagues, “So, let’s put a one-touch brain receptor sensor and leave it at that.” They agreed. “Then there’s pressure, temperature, pain, and itch. Any of these Simon?”
“Temperature, certainly, it got damned hot for a while. Pain as a result of high noise level too. Well, the noise was painful to me as a being, not in any particular physical way. Itch? Nope.”
“Okay then,” Todd continued, clearly in charge, “we’ll assume your neural response to pain can and should be measured. We’ll decide why based on other readings. Now, sound, that’s easy. Rajman?”
“Yes, we can use the node he has implanted. Simon, does it hurt right now?”
I shook my head slowly, “Not really, more of an ache.”
“That takes us to smell. It is one of the most important senses, very primordial,” Todd paused, “Simon do you think you smell anything in there?” It was curious, but I did have a sensation of metal when the antibody programs were busy and I said so. Todd nodded, “That fits, your body was under stress and released adrenaline, which can induce a metallic taste.” He turned to Sing, who nodded and said she’d add that. “We’ll leave aside proprioception since you are basically out of body, muscle tension, and equilibrioception since your body will have no balance feedback to your in-hydra self. Okay, let’s also forget chemoreceptors for hormones, stretch receptors, and thirst and hunger—all too tied to your physical form. The one that may come in useful is your magnetic receptors. That could be useful, Sing?”
Doc Sing felt the mag receptors would be very useful if they showe
d any fluctuation at all. “Out here in space all our magnetoception is off kilter, that’s why we put an Earth-seasonal magnetic flux system in the lighting system. But if his physical form shows any deviation from stasis when he is in-hydra, it could correlate with other readings.”
The impression that I was a lab specimen was growing.
Doc Todd carried on, “The one that really concerns me is time. All humans feel an accurate sense of time, especially when young.” He looked at me since I was still a kid, “The problem is, we cannot measure this normally because it seems to be a complex arrangement of the cerebral cortex, cerebellum, and basal ganglia. But Simon, you’re wearing the dome, we can pull data off that if you will permit.” I nodded. “However, we have to remember that Simon’s suprachiasmatic nuclei handle long-term timekeeping, the rhythms of the body. It was these nuclei that were damaged during your previous time spent in System. That’s what contributed to you being speeded up as you put it. So far, that’s okay, but we need to monitor that.”
Aten asked, “How can we monitor that complexity? The cerebral cortex, cerebellum, and basal ganglia—there’s no computer on board complex enough, portable enough, to make those readings.” But Aten knew the answer, she was just hoping for something different.
It was Rajman who answered, “We will measure those senses’ readings based on any damage done to Simon. It is the only way.” Aten wasn’t happy. Nor was I really, I had hoped to see this through and come out unscathed.
The thought of being speeded up again was not a happy one. First, I would be on my own, existing apart from everyone normal, and second, life expectancy was short. Sing must have read my thoughts because she said, “Simon, we have your original recording in a data cube, and once we reach planet fall, we can reestablish a lab and you can live again.” Cramer looked over at me, shaking his head. I said nothing but he knew the look on my face. That’s a negative Sing, better forget that.
