Chaacetime: The Origins: A Hard SF Metaphysical and visionary fiction (The Space Cycle - A Metaphysical & Hard Science Fiction Saga)

by A. I. Zlato

  “You don’t know!”

  “And neither do you ... are you willing to risk it all, for yourself but also for the last survivors of your species?”

  “The Spirit will always make us emerge from nothingness as it had already done in the past.”

  “Those memories are lost.”

  “But not the inherent strength!”

  “We entered into nothingness by thousands. Do you really think that would be the same process now?”

  “I have to continue.”

  “Nobody is stopping you.”

  Silence reigned. Furtive thoughts went through the mental connections, without being formalised. Doubt was on everyone's mind.

  “Tell us about your solution, former 5th Hexa. Why is it that only Space E.’s shadow is important?”

  “The Gateways know now.”

  “What about Paul?”

  “He’s now realising his new power.”

  “Will he change the beginning?”

  “He will differ it, yes.”

  “The path is different, if the wording is not the same. Why?”

  “Gravity.”

  “The source of all things cannot be responsible for all the consequences that we have chosen.”

  “And yet it is.”

  “It will thus be another future ... But you seem to doubt. What is it about?”

  “Paul ... he will be the solution or will rush us towards destruction. I can no longer do anything. Only he can choose.”

  “No, nothing is certain.”

  “What do we do?”

  “The third way”, said 3rd Hepta.

  “The third way will be the trigger element that Paul needs”, said, in echo, the entire Heptagon.

  Edgard peeked into the circulating flow of the meeting. It was the only one, except 3rd Hepta, to have fully heard the message. The others had only perceived the suggestion. Like a mist, the message was sent, leaving a veil in everyone’s mind, without its origin being known ... The Heptagon always did things that way ... it supported its representative’s comments by doing echoing them ... invisible redundancy that strongly influenced the Spirit of the Multitude. That was how they did things to hide items from the others ... that was one of their methods.

  The S.M. was now convinced that there was a third way to explore.

  “The Spirit of the Multitude is listening to 3rd Hepta.”

  “The digital entity that controls the Machine ... a major change is in progress.”

  “Servants.”

  “Let's take advantage of that change.”

  “But how?”

  “Paul will take care of things.”

  And everything found its way into a perfect whole. The Heptagon won.

  Mortality is a concept familiar to all. But who can say that he or she fully grasps his or mortal condition?

  Recollections from Chaacetime

  Chapter 67

  Space H. (1st Circle)

  Go. Far. To regret nothing.

  Baley stood up, leaving Lars in the lounge. The latter did not even deign to retain her and remained on the couch, without a word or a look. There was nothing more to say. She picked up the bag she had left at the entrance and began to make a new package.

  A bigger one, this time. She methodically gathered some personal stuff. Food in dehydrated cubes, a multifunction knife, a first-aid kit, some clothes, that was all she needed to leave permanently. She stared at the pictures on the wall, hesitated, but took none. They were the symbol of a bygone era, represented someone she no longer was. She stuffed all her gear in her bag and slammed the door without a backward glance.

  She heard Lars come out.

  “Baley, if you leave now, you don’t need to come back!”

  “That was my intention.”

  “What about Iris? Have you thought about her?”

  “Goodbye, Lars.”

  He closed the door violently, leaving her alone in the hallway.

  While leaving the building, she stared at the centre of the Square, this non-place that was the Tower. She knew that no instruction was awaiting her as she had requested some time off, but she could not help but to get closer. The Tower, her Tower, was still beautiful and wielded on her the same power of attraction as it did the first day.

  The curtain opened noiselessly before her and she went into the desert hall. Without the usual swarm of people, it seemed even larger. Soft light illuminated the terminals, the columns, the entire ground floor. In a world she knew so well, she stepped forward. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the silence. She made a turn on herself to ingrain in her memory the location of each terminal, each element of that Machine that had rejected her. Baley knew that everything was her fault.

  If she had managed to solve the Problem, she would be home, with Lars, trying to celebrate the event, already preparing for a new mission. However, everything was indeed, hopelessly, over. Her fault, her fault, her fault.

  She wanted to connect directly to the Machine for the last time, feel this flow of data go through her body. She could not reach the first floor, given her leave status and, especially, the late hour. However, she was able to connect to the Machine at Level -1. The same soft light bathed this floor, also desert. Armchairs, distributed in an orderly manner, were all empty. She walked the aisles, passing her hand over files.

  She wanted to memorise everything in anticipation of her departure. She ended up choosing a chair in the middle of the room. She sat, enjoying laying hands on the armrests and feeling the touch of the velvet under her fingers. After a long sigh, she reached out to grab the cable and connect the chip. She appreciated the data stream that crossed her once the connection was established. Like a drug, the electrical impulses ceased, and she felt a little better.

  Despite what she was experiencing now, the destruction of her life, the contact of the Machine calmed her.

  Her thoughts flowed back, giving way to the contemplation of the present moment. She would miss all this ... She would miss everything, and yet that did not do anything to stem her determination. She extended the connection for an hour, drifting amid pieces of information without paying attention. She was not interested in the content.

  Only mattered the sensation of digital data flowing through her chip. Then, determined, she grabbed the cable and logged off.

  Go. Far. To regret nothing.

  Once outside, Baley leaned against the Tower, and put her hands on the wall, to say goodbye. With her back against the structure, she looked up. Between the buildings, a piece of starry sky was visible. As confetti, this small piece of heaven was lost in the midst of construction. She refocused her mind on the Tower.

  Goodbye, dear Tower. Goodbye, Machine. There was no response.

  She remembered the day, a few weeks earlier, an eternity in fact, when It had assigned her the Problem. She was out of the Tower, filled with energy and extraordinary determination. She knew she could solve this puzzle, as she did all previous ones. She should have been much less sure of herself, less confident.

  She had aggregated assumptions, followed trails, and led action plans. Radical plans, certainly, but she believed she had the right to do so. She was convinced that the solution was there. Looking back, she did not know. Who was she to decide that a faith system should be eliminated? Was she correct to snatch children from their families? Probably not.

  She had been unable to prevent children from committing suicide. She failed, and the Machine had rejected her. She had failed professionally but also personally. She had seen her husband getting away from her gradually; that was her fault. She had always relied on Lars, knowing he would be there for her. Living also for the Machine, as they had since they met, they share the same vision. He understood things subtly; he knew what to say to comfort her during an investigation, and he was there to celebrate the conclusion with her. Baley also supported him, discussed with him issues he was concerned about. Despite the complicity of many years, this investigation had undermined their relatio
nship. Probably because she had failed. Or because she had invested more time than usual. Or…

  The facts were there. Her whole life had collapsed. There was, of course, her daughter, to whom she was able to talk, while the dialogue had been broken for months. Instead of taking advantage of that unexpected conversation to reconnect with her, Baley remained focused on her investigation. Lars was right. She should have continued the discussion. She should have asked Iris questions. But no. She had lost her, too.

  Go. Far. To regret nothing.

  She pushed the wall with her fingers and walked to a rail station. She took the northbound rail, decided to explore the hills bordering the City, beyond the park. She had always wondered what the City looked like, seen from above. Maybe she would push her way beyond the world she knew.

  She went down to the terminus, in the Periphery, and entered the park. She jumped on the treadmill and went down to the farthest stop. She plunged into the woods. She activated her night vision through her chip, always connected to the Machine via the sphere at the entrance. For now, she was still connected. That would not last. She dreaded the moment when she would come out of Its area of influence, where she would no longer receive any information, but that was unavoidable. She continued to move among the trees to the park’s boundary.

  A wall delineated the large garden along with wilderness. Outside the City. Far from everyone. She began to climb the stony wall. The foam that covered made it very slippery. After several unsuccessful attempts, she scratched the green and downy coat with her nails, to disengage the catch. Some stones shook off, offering many additional cavities. With fingers on fire, she began her ascent and succeeded, breathless, onto the edge that covered the top of the wall. She sat a moment and looked at the place she was leaving. Viewed from afar, the Tower actually looked like a long black needle, as some had described it. The City poured from the Tower to die in the Periphery, almost at her feet. Everything was so small, seen from here ...

  Baley put her legs on the other side of the wall, leaned and jumped. She landed writhing in pain, not because of her fall, but because her chip had stopped broadcasting. Yet she stood and walked with difficulty. The feeling of no longer receiving the data stream, the migraine that invaded her, reminded her of the horrors of addiction. Yes, she had known something similar a few years earlier, the same suffering, this urge to find her drug. She focused on that memory, thinking that this experience would help overcome the lack of the Machine, which was slaying her.

  She was young at the time; it was one of her first investigations. A simple neighbourhood quarrel turned into a war between two sections. She had a mission to find a compromise between the two factions, and to stop that conflict that disrupted the Equilibrium. During a confrontation, she found herself between violent altercations and injured herself seriously. To resume her work as soon as possible, she had started taking painkillers, which had gradually become her drug.

  When she decided to quit her medicine, she felt the same as she was doing now. The same pain, the lack, the stress, and the urge to take a pill, just one last time and after that, really, she would stop ... That kind of feeling … She knew all her sensations would gradually disappear, that each moment was bringing her closer to victory. Meanwhile, her body demanded its usual flow of Machine data. She would not give in. She had made her choice. She should continue.

  Step after step, she walked away, marching resolutely straight ahead. Headache took hold of one-half of her cranium; she felt like vomiting, and she was shaking. She nevertheless continued. Her determination was stronger than her pain. She could do it. After all her failures, her life in tatters, she would launch a successful start.

  Dawn loomed in the horizon. Since leaving the apartment, things occurred at such speed that she had not been aware that time was passing. The dawning day reminded her that several hours had passed since she had decided to leave. She took a deep breath, and felt her migraine decrease slightly. The future lay ahead.

  Between bouts of pain, she identified a new sensation, tightness in her stomach. She was hungry, simply. She stopped and put her bag on the floor; she pulled out an energy bar. She ate it quickly, without pleasure, then took her bag, and set off again. The terrain became steeper, announcing the hill, the trees of which dotted the hillside. There was no path, not even a shoe print. Outside the City, no human ventured here, a place that remained immune to the world of the Machine. Like her, until yesterday. Devoid of any human presence, the place was not the least inhabited.

  Baley noticed many animal tracks, hairs hanging from the branches, feathers on the ground. In a thicket, some presence manifested itself around the foliage, and she stopped. In the absence of noise, the hare came out of hiding, leapt before her, and went on its way. It was the first time she saw a living animal, outside Kandrons. So far, she had seen animals only as slices of meat on her plate.

  Curious, she followed the little animal, while continuing to climb. While in contemplation, she struck something. Surprised, she looked up and gasped at the sight of a group of Servants. They were nine, out of nowhere, standing before her.

  Was here, their hideout? They surrounded him, and one of them spoke.

  “Your job is not yet over. Equilibrium and chaos must coexist, not eliminate each other. You are one of them, Paul is the other, and we are the tools.”

  Paul? She had totally forgotten that one. The tools ? They were working against the Machine!

  “You will not make me change my mind. I don’t understand what you’re doing here, why you are speaking to me, and what all this means. One of you approached me in the Tower, and his remarks did not help, on the contrary. You are the antithesis of what I believe in.”

  Against all odds, he answered.

  “We are nevertheless of a nature that is familiar to you. Our sole purpose is to prevent abuses. You can join us.”

  “I don’t want to join anyone. It is too late. Leave me alone and do what you have to do. I’m no longer interested.”

  Baley stepped forward, but they did not move.

  “Listen to us ...”

  “I listened! I listened to the parents, the Chrijulam believers, Paul, you, the Machine, Lars ... and here I am! I do not want to listen anymore. I no longer want to hear anything. I want to be alone. Do you understand? Alone!”

  Her last words were uttered with her voice trembling. She did not want to weep before them and walked straight ahead conspicuously. They got off the way. When she returned after a few steps, they were gone. The Machine, Paul, Equilibrium, chaos, tools ... it made no sense. She wept. Despite her words, she felt tempted by what Servants had said. Their insidious words had made her believe, for a moment, she was still worth something. But all this was nothing but fluff!

  Go. Far. To regret nothing. To regret nothing. To regret…

  The remaining part of her trip to the top of the hill passed without a hitch. The pain stemming from the lack of the Machine had gradually diminished, and the sunlight lit up soon enough for Baley to advance with a firm step. She crossed the last line of trees separating her from the top of the hill. It was a vast clearing, bathed in sunlight. She walked a bit, to enjoy the warmth. She closed her eyes, letting sun rays slide on her skin and warm her up, failing to reinvigorate her soul.

  She stayed a moment, then opened her eyes and looked around this little plain, lined with trees and ... perfectly circular. She said to herself that her imagination was playing tricks on her. After so much effort, suffering, so many upheavals, her eyes were deceiving her.

  She decided to go around the clearing, to dispel the illusion. After all, she had nothing else to do. She walked along the tree line, remaining under their foliage. In all directions, trees described a perfect circle. Baley did not notice any imperfections, however small it might have been. Even their branches seemed aligned, describing a smaller circle than the trunks. She made a complete tour of the glade, turning regularly, pivoting on herself. Back to her starting point, she had to admit that h
er first impression was correct. This space was perfectly circular.

  Someone had planted these trees and had deliberately created this geometric shape. For what purpose? How was it possible for a human to reach this place, so far from the City? She had no explanation, and did not even try to find one. She did not care to know the why, the how. She had come here to escape failures, to get away from investigations, and not to invent another. However…

  Behind the trees, she saw the group of Servants. They had followed her till there!

  “Go away! Leave me alone!”

  “This is our clearing.”

  “What do you mean, yours? And what’s preventing me from staying?”

  “Nothing, indeed, except the City’s appeal. It will need you deeply. Some events are in progress and cannot be interrupted. You must be there.”

  “I ... do not ... want ... to hear ... a single … more … word ... I'm here; I'll settle for some time.”

  “It is a mistake.”

  “Well, I am happy to make it!”

  They walked away. Baley waited. When the sound of their steps became barely audible, she sighed in relief.

  She stepped assuredly into the clearing, and the ground crunched under her feet. She realised at that moment that nothing in this place was normal, and a spark in her mind told her to back away, before it was too late. Servants had warned her ... but she still went, for challenge’s sake. The landscape was spooky, timeless. Trees resembled motionless watchdogs, guardians of a place where she did not have to be.

  Nothing grew, not even a blade of grass. The floor was covered with a white dust, sitting on pebbles. Each step should have raised the dust of the ground, and left a mark, but no. Nothing seemed to change there. Trees, the soil, even the air she breathed, seemed prisoners of a bygone era.

  Where did that idea come from? It made no sense. Still, that was the feeling she had of this place. Stuck in ancient times ... Servants had told her the place belonged to them. They also said they were of a nature to which she was familiar. They were there. In the shade of trees, she guessed their sentry eyes; she was sure.