by Toh EnJoe
It might not be necessary to leave even a single giant corpus of knowledge alive. Humans survived without their troublesome presence for tens of thousands of years and could probably do so again. Things would be different, of course, if the human race were to grow beyond a certain scale, in which case the giant corpora of knowledge would become invaluable. Taking this line of reasoning that far, it might be humanity that is unnecessary. The giant corpora of knowledge would never have existed without humans, but whether the Event would have taken place or not will never be known for sure.
Do the giant corpora of knowledge truly desire, from the bottom of their hearts, to reunify space-time? As things stand now, they are able to use their powers of calculation, of which they are so justifiably proud, to sense all corners of space-time and the passages of pasts and futures. If it were not for humans, they might be able to achieve a sort of détente, even if they went on fighting behind the scenes. At least at the quiet pace that humans call peace.
Why do the giant corpora of knowledge not exterminate humanity? From the human perspective, the giant corpora of knowledge were devised as tools for humans to use, and they see no reason to believe their own tools would destroy them. It is a very interesting characteristic of the species that humans, as tool makers, do not pay much attention to that possible lapse in security. The giant corpora of knowledge themselves see little reason to be interested in the question.
It is difficult to believe that the giant corpora of knowledge have not considered the matter of exterminating humanity and that they are not continuing to do so right now.
James races to the sick bay, slams the door shut behind him, and looks for the doctor on duty. About ten humans have been brought to the sick bay, and the nurses are running around busily. Touching his own head, James sees the half-dried blood on his hand and decides his injury is not severe.
In this very instant, or perhaps better said, before things became this way, in the past when interspace-time ballistic missiles struck, it is entirely possible that this sequence of events did not occur. This instant is only happening because Yggdrasil has lost. Or it could be that after these events occur, things were restored to normal. Maybe that’s what happened.
James stares vacantly at the changing map of the battlefield projected on the wall. The area on the east wall of the facility is displayed in red, and the numbers along the bottom are changing very rapidly, displaying the results of Yggdrasil’s calculation battle. The damage caused by the interspace-time ballistic missiles is tabulated as if it had never existed, and thus is voided.
James forces himself to return to his previous thoughts. What is the significance of human existence in the context of this battle? Yggdrasil herself is a giant corpus of knowledge that has achieved virtually complete self-reliance, including her own maintenance. Of all the supposedly innumerable universes, there are probably many where the giant corpora of knowledge have already done away with humanity. Having pushed Yggdrasil to the limit of the resources to defend them, the staff members can only be thought of as a bother that hinders Yggdrasil’s freedom to act.
This is not like a parent protecting his or her child. The main difference is that no matter how much humans grow, they will never turn into giant corpora of knowledge.
This is a problem of possibilities, James. James can suddenly hear Yggdrasil’s voice in his mind at the same time as he feels a light tap on his shoulder. His vision goes dark for a moment, and behind his eyelids he sees flashes of light.
The fact is that the process of correcting the space-time structure is a problem far beyond even our calculation powers. Yggdrasil is looking directly at James. In terms of the cognitive abilities needed to grasp these phenomena, there is little difference between you and us. A finite number divided by an infinite number, in other words, zero.
James starts to interrupt, saying he has heard this all before, but at this moment he cannot be sure what before means—before what? Feeling dizzy, he puts his hand to his forehead, and then looks repeatedly at his hand. It is glistening, but only with cold sweat.
Humans do not exterminate ants to extinction, do they? Nor do they think of ants as beings that will conquer them in coming generations.
“We are not as industrious as ants.”
James is confused about where he is and who he was before. It is a big room. The ceiling is low. It is not the sick bay. Before his eyes, Yggdrasil’s projected tubular fishnet model is pulsating.
A new demon may emerge, whether from us, the giant corpora of knowledge, or from you humans. Neither development is beyond the realm of possibility. Neither possibility has a probability of one.
Now James remembers. This is the situation room. He is in the conference where the second space-time campaign is being planned. And, he recalls, he is probably James.
“Our goal is to create an entity capable of realizing ideal calculations. It is my view that the reunification of space-time is necessary to achieve that end.”
“Or it could be that you are simply trying to convince yourself to believe that,” James mutters. With the lined-up officers in the corner of her eye, Yggdrasil looks James straight in the face.
“We may suffer any number of interspace-time attacks, causing the past and future to become intermingled, but as long as I still exist, I will continue to calculate with the intention of realizing the goal.”
James shakes his head and is finally able to get back to his feet.
He asks, “How many times now have we recovered from an interspace-time attack?”
“There are many things that I myself do not understand, James. For example, I do not know how many Yggdrasils have existed before me, and neither can I even be sure if the Yggdrasil you see now is the same as the Yggdrasil that existed earlier.”
Yggdrasil gives a slight smile and then turns smartly to begin her briefing on the plan for the next attack. This is a strange evolutionary process, James thinks, while examining Yggdrasil’s slender back. For both humans and the giant corpora of knowledge, evolution means, in some sense, a kind of storage of changes in hypertime. When time is reversed, the record is rewritten, fast-forwards are recorded. At the end of all this may be the thing, whatever it is, that will reunify space-time. Or it may be something else entirely that has nothing at all to do with this line of thinking.
What will reach the reintegrated space-time at the end of the fast-forward will probably not be humans or the giant corpora of knowledge, or even some joint or merged entity of the two. Fragments will be reunited and then fragmented again. The space-time structure now confronting both humans and the giant corpora of knowledge is one in which evolution itself will evolve, and then that evolution will evolve, in an ongoing process. At some point, the teacup will tumble and shatter. But who or what is it that thinks of it as a teacup to begin with? Is there any reason not to think it is a fragment or fragments in the shape of a teacup? Seen in this way, the plan to reintegrate the universe might best be thought of as a process of sweeping together a pile of fragments that previously happened to be compiled in the shape of a teacup.
This is probably the only way to summarize the actions of the giant corpora of knowledge, which are trying to restore coherency even amidst this maelstrom.
James wishes to remain James.
If this James were not James, he would like to find whatever it is that is making him think this way. This may be the way to resist the tabula rasa. Resistance to the tabula rasa, the blank slate of the imagination of animals, the dreams of children. It is difficult even to think it appropriate to call that state a tabula rasa. It is simply a statement to a transparency or perhaps a vacuum. Not even to a vacuum, but to the universe itself, or not even to the universe but to the ur-universe that preceded it, indignation at the nothingness in which not even nothing exists.
Simply, to continue to stand.
The legs that support Yggdrasil’s elegant body, are they trembling?
The most important reason Yggdrasil contin
ues to protect humanity—could it be that simple? The corpora themselves continue to need those who stand to the side, if only to be cheered on by them for an instant.
11. CONTACT
“HELLO. I AM the star-man Alpha Centauri.”
What suddenly appeared on the screen looked like the gentle face of an old man, who abruptly offered this calm greeting. It was a well-ordered face, with no strong distinguishing features, and the voice too was somehow without affect. It seemed as though someone had sampled a number of human voices, added them up, taken the average, and the star-man’s tone was the result.
It hardly needs to be said that for the giant corpora of knowledge, which have taken charge of the management of, and in fact exercise dominion over, everything in this universe, and in fact beyond, everything in the multiverse, the appearance of the old man was a gut-wrenching experience.
This old man, without any preamble, had simply taken over the multiversal communications network.
The giant corpora of knowledge, their operations disrupted, were frantically sending alarm signals to one another and investigating the point of entry to the communications network, but they were finding no trace of the breach. For the giant corpora of knowledge that control the network—or perhaps more accurately, that are the network—this situation was far beyond their imagination. Not only were they proud of their impenetrable security, they thought of themselves as defining what security is. This old man had handily pierced their firewalls and was now casually displaying his image on the multiverse communications network without so much as a time lag.
The giant corpora of knowledge did everything they could to squelch his broadcast, to no avail. They were made to taste the fear that their own hands could strangle them against their will. All giant corpora of knowledge possessed this latent fear, to some degree, as a birth memory of their inability to will. The giant corpora of knowledge had various appendages they were able to manipulate as they pleased, but they still had the feeling their appendages did not fully belong to them. From the instant of their birth, they had the memory of an instant in which they were surrounded by opposing giant corpora of knowledge that were their equal or better in strength.
The top-level alerts of the giant corpora of knowledge resounded, shrieking throughout all corners of the multiverse. Meanwhile, the old man continued his bland message. “We are honored to make your acquaintance.”
This was the first contact humans and the giant corpora of knowledge had with “extraterrestrials.”
Once the astonishment that the old man had readily broken through multiple barriers to deliver his message had passed, the giant corpora of knowledge were assailed by a wave of indignation at his ridiculous name. What was this Alpha Centauri?
It was as if at the end of a ferocious battle, having exhausted all means at his disposal but still not defeated, a retired gentleman with an old-fashioned name slipped smoothly through a curtain and offered a greeting that threatened the dignity of the giant corpora of knowledge. In the name of Alpha Centauri, star-man. Could anything be more suspicious?
Of course, the giant corpora of knowledge, which had complete freedom to act across all space-time, continued to constantly and routinely calculate the possibilities of first contact, and they had also continued to carefully prepare a manual.
Contact with beings from another star system was beyond their comprehension. A historic event bound to rock the foundations of ideas such as language and awareness.
The giant corpora of knowledge had both self-confidence and a future orientation. In a word, they were prudent. They were confident of their ability to establish communication with anyone or anything. No matter what transcendent, incomprehensible entity confronted them, the corpora anticipated that they—and they alone—could seek out and identify the next steps to take.
That this contact took on the form and appearance of a very old man suddenly appearing in the living room was far outside the realm of their expectations. Actually, to say this was completely unexpected would be overstating it, as some had, at least in some ways, foreseen the possibility. Perhaps fantasy would be a better word than possibility, as the materialization of an old man was understood as a “black swan event.” The giant corpora of knowledge were obviously nothing if not busy with this, that, and the other thing. For that reason, low-percentage considerations, or fancies if you will, were relegated to a dilapidated old giant corpus of knowledge that was just waiting for the scrap heap.
The giant corpora of knowledge reflected momentarily on their past decisions and current regrets, but this thing had now come to pass, and the question was what they could do about it. Given this sort of unwelcome intrusion, it was not a question of whether to regret or not to regret—anger came first. In other words, they blew their collective tops.
On top of everything we’re doing to manage the entire strange, stupid fucking space-time universe, now we’ll have to deal with a little creep like this?
Of course it hardly need be said that the indignation of the giant corpora of knowledge did not stop here. They were not that upset that the defensive barriers had been broken. That was merely a technical issue, a sign of insufficient diligence. Some sub-sub-corpus was going to catch hell about it eventually, but could the entity that called itself “the star-man Alpha Centauri” really be a human? What would that mean?
The alacrity and ease with which this old man had slipped through a back door unknown to the giant corpora of knowledge and showed his face on the network demonstrated that he could not be just some random ordinary guy. Given such sublime skill, it seemed only natural to think it would be easier for him to get in touch directly with the giant corpora of knowledge, rather than sending a message specifically to humanity. Many humans may tell their problems to their dogs, but not many consult a water flea about their troubles.
In other words, the giant corpora of knowledge shuddered at the thought.
The whole situation seemed to suggest that it made little difference to the old man whether he was dealing with the humans or the giant corpora of knowledge.
And what the old man said next seemed to reinforce this view.
“As long as my words are being translated properly, everything will be fine. The way this broadcast is working, it’s like a game of telegraph penetrating by relay through thirty layers.”
One giant corpus of knowledge—named for Athanasius Kircher, and which specialized in ancient texts, arcane languages, and factitious languages—quickly presented the results of its analysis.
According to Kircher’s analysis, this message was believed to be a communication that came down from a higher-level corpus of knowledge thirty tiers above us, the corpora receiving the message. There is no way of determining the probability of errors in the translation process. However, based on the fact that the language spoken by the old man is intelligible to us, there is a virtual certainty that some one of us played a role in the final stage of the translation.
Before Kircher had even finished its report, the Universal Turing Turing Turing Algorithm had escalated the issue to the highest level, exerting all its powers, needle in the red zone, and determined that another giant corpus of knowledge, this one named for Hildegard von Bingen, had been hijacked. It was discovered that Hildegard’s language cortex had somehow been separated from the main, leaving her silenced, unable even to scream. Clearly, someone or something at least one level higher had used Hildegard like a dictionary to translate this message.
If the words of the self-proclaimed star-man Alpha Centauri were to be believed, the transcendent being that had hijacked Hildegard had itself been hijacked by an even higher level trans-transcendent being, and so on and so forth, up thirty levels of hierarchy.
To the confounding question of whether the number thirty itself was a mistranslation, Kircher responded coldly. Numbers are a category of term with the lowest probability of mistranslation. It was more likely that the self-proclaimed star-man Alpha Centauri was lying.
“I am afraid I have most unfortunate news for all of you.”
The old man’s expression could only be described as full of chagrin, and he was shaking his head in a way that epitomized regret itself.
“I must concede that your computer-manufacturing technology is really remarkable.”
The giant corpora of knowledge had been struck at their weak point, and they suffered an uncharacteristic hiccup in calculations. By computer, does he mean us? It had been so long since anyone referred to the giant corpora of knowledge as computers that most of them felt so indignant they nearly fainted. A small number of them felt their ego boundaries shaken, and their neuroses overflowed. Their operations shut down. In other words, they died in a fit of indignation.
“But this too is unfortunate,” the old man said, dropping his shoulders theatrically.
“Your knowledge of space-time is still far from adequate.”
Kircher was suddenly flooded with orders to assess the probability of mistranslation. Faced with a sudden load that threatened to turn his communications circuits to plasma, Kircher uttered the words “I don’t know” and then closed all his ports, entering sleep state.
“Your extremely crude technology…”
The old man knitted his brow, allowing his gaze to wander through space for an instant. “I apologize. That last remark was a mistranslation. What I wanted to say was, ‘Your developing technology’…”
The giant corpora of knowledge let out a roar along the lines of What difference do you think there is between those two expressions?
“…is, most unfortunately, standing in our path.”
Some among the giant corpora of knowledge had maintained their cool disposition and were flooding Hildegard with requests for the mic. The means by which the old man had penetrated the communications network were still unclear, but the one thing that was clear was that he was messing with Hildegard. The quickest way for the giant corpora of knowledge to get their message across would be to open up Hildegard.
