by James Murdo
16
GIL
Gil related her sensespace visions to the others as they sat around the table. The sentinels were one day away at most and she felt tense. She looked frantically around the table as she spoke, hoping they believed her. Unfortunately, it was impossible to gauge the craft-lect’s reactions since it was only a disembodied voice that spoke directly into her mind.
998 hummed gently without saying anything while she spoke. Its orb-body slowly oscillated up and down in a tight line, and its aura flowed orange-yellow without blinking. She felt its focus on her, but also on its own thoughts. One-oh was equally difficult to read, although his kind eyes remained affixed on her face as she spoke, only flicking over a couple of times to 998. For a moment, no one spoke when she finished, until the craft-lect broke the silence.
[Interesting.]
“Very,” One-oh added.
Gil looked at One-oh, hoping for something more. He obliged.
“You have now closed yourself to your abilities, you say?”
“Yes… I’m trying to.”
“Is that possible?”
“It’s not easy… but I’m better at it… than I was before… I think.”
“Perhaps that is wise, especially with our approach of the Maspero.”
“I don’t want to experience those… visions… not again, not yet.”
“That’s understandable, Gil.”
She looked down, unsure whether she should be ashamed of her fear, or grateful they had not asked her to delve back into the sensespace’s embrace. Her hands were clasped tightly over her trembling legs.
“Your father leaving was not your fault,” 998 said, with its hum becoming louder for the briefest time while it spoke.
“I… how could it have been anything else?” she said.
“I agree with 998. Ask yourself the converse, Gil,” One-oh said.
“How can…” She trailed off.
“That is an event from the past, you had no influence over it.”
“Yes, Gil. You also cannot establish its validity,” 998 said.
“But it felt real, it didn’t feel like the past, and…”
“Yes?” One-oh said, looking into her eyes as Gil looked up again.
“It was him. It was so similar, it felt… real.”
“The sensespace is manipulative. We know it wanted you to feel what it showed you was real, but whether that is the case or not, is–”
“But to taunt me?” she blurted.
“Perhaps it was… not intended for you, maybe it was meant for us.”
“But…”
Silence descended again. Gil realised the craft-lect had hardly spoken. As though in response, again, it broke the quiet.
[It may have been trying to explain.]
One-oh began nodding. “Yes… but if that’s true… it’s incomplete.”
“Or taunting, as Gil thought,” 998 said.
“Why would it show me my fall? Why would it show me how it happened? Why would it have made that up? How is that a message?”
“Again, I think–” One-oh began.
“The whole time! It’s… it’s ruined… everything!”
“We may not understand fully its–”
“It has always been there, watching me, it’s–”
“Gil,” 998 interrupted. “You are safe, with us. Don’t be tricked into sorrow by the sensespace. You are strong.”
She stopped and looked at it, feeling foolish. She steadied her frantic breathing before looking down towards her hands, again.
“It’s just, I don’t understand why. What does it want from me?”
“We don’t know, but we will,” 998 promised.
“What are the rules my father spoke about?”
“That’s… unclear,” One-oh said.
“Did he do something because of me?”
[Without context, we cannot know.]
“It may have been entirely fictional,” One-oh said.
“But…” Gil said.
“But, I suppose, if it was not fictional–” One-oh started.
“Then whose rules may he have been breaking?” 998 said.
“The ABs?” One-oh said. “They have their rules.”
“ABs?” Gil almost shouted.
“You know we have our suspicions your father was a member of an AB race.”
“But how…”
[Or affiliated.]
“Yes… somehow, maybe created by them himself. It’s something we can’t ignore,” One-oh said.
“I… that just can’t be true,” Gil said. “How can we know?”
“We can’t, yet.”
One-oh was looking almost apologetic towards Gil, as 998 began moving up and down more rapidly than before.
“But, it doesn’t make sense… none of it does!” she said. “Why? My father…”
“Gil, we may not be able to… prove or disprove what you witnessed in the visions, but you cannot be certain what you think they mean is correct,” One-oh said.
Gil was about to reply, but One-oh carried on.
“If we consider what we are able to corroborate,” One-oh said slowly. “What does that tell us about him? He was a member of your primitive commune – excuse my terminology – yet in your own memories, he told you stories about the galactic community, when you were too young to comprehend them. He also left your world, or became hidden in some way, undiscoverable even to us, in a manner unavailable to your people… impossibly. As you know, we were unable to locate a progenitive match for you on your world, so he really did remove himself. But–”
“But he saw me!”
“I’m not certain he did, at least, not in the way you think. That is your own impression, and also something we cannot substantiate against what we already know – it is something that sensespace has encouraged you to believe.”
“I… I just don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“There are aspects of your visions that seem likely to be correct, but there are also aspects that we need to separate. Things that might be entirely designed by the sensespace. Your father’s conversation with Yul is one of them – that may be a message directly from the sensespace, not him. It’s not possible your father saw you, but you believe he did. Since it is something that couldn’t have happened, that lends credence to it being created by the sensespace.”
“I… he vanished because of me.”
“I think that’s truly unlikely, Gil. And even if what you saw did indeed happen, it must have been a coincidence. You may be misinterpreting what the sensespace intended for you to observe.”
“But–”
“I understand how it seemed. He appeared to comprehend something related to you. I think it’s obvious he wasn’t speaking just for Yul’s benefit… we just can’t assume it was for yours.”
“Who else’s, then?” 998 asked.
17
TOR
DeVoid was still procrastinating.
“So, you don’t trust him?”
[It’s not as simple as that.]
“You think he lied to us?”
[Not lied. Obfuscated, partially explained, omissions. That type of thing. Tricky to get a proper answer. Either way, we know Thy went mad after going into N-SOL space, so…]
“I think he tried to answer some of our questions–”
[Not clearly.]
“Maybe that’s just how he is?”
[Just how he is?]
“Yes.”
[It was obvious what we were asking.]
“I can imagine… if I were talking to Bo now, or any of the other elders in my commune, or even Tait… I would find it hard to answer their questions in a way they would understand. There’s too much… too many other concepts they’d need to learn first. They would have to experience what I have experienced.”
[That’s a disanalogy, count yourself lucky at being enlightened. You now understand there are concepts like technologies, and there are ones that you cannot currently compre
hend, for many reasons. You’ve realised some of the basic tenets of galactic life. Truths, as much as anything can be. You’ve accepted that science exists. What we believe might be wrong, but that’s allowed, and we actively acknowledge that. That’s a discrete change for you that lets you appreciate the search for real knowledge. The difference in understanding between you and the Cross-Prophet might be greater than between you and your communers, however your newfound realisations should allow for that.]
“Meaning…”
[We’re past the threshold baseline for a reasonable conversation.]
“That might not be true!”
[Your attempt at humour evades me. Did you hear what I just–]
“But you would think that wouldn’t you. That’s my point.”
[Right, let’s put that aside then, since you’ve decided to ignore logic.]
“Do you trust the Cross-Prophet’s motives?”
[You know its motives?]
“I think I do.”
[Good for you.]
“If you don’t trust him, why did you agree to be copied for Apalu?”
[Oh, come off it.]
“You did!”
[He could have taken a copy of me anyway.]
“But he asked.”
[I refer back to my initial answer.]
Tor persisted. “He gave you the choice.”
[Oh, Tor…]
“He didn’t have to.”
[A choice?]
“Yes.”
[Really?]
“Yes, he–”
[Please. In all likelihood it was the illusion of choice, nothing else.]
“Why not?”
[The very appearance of choice might have been the impression he wanted to give off. You’ve got to understand Tor, machine-lects, augmented biologicals, anything with the ability to outthink a typical biological, ahem, or anything else less capable than itself, will use its abilities to elicit the responses it wants.]
“Unless it really was giving us a choice.”
[That’s rarely the way the galaxy works. It might have been completely made up so that we trusted it, as you clearly now do, just to encourage us to pop into N-SOL space. You’ve got to consider everything.]
“In your opinion.”
[No. Fact. Think about how you might have spoken to the children within your commune. They had poorly developed reasoning abilities, even in comparison with you, so you could manipulate them into acting how you wanted. Let’s not flatter ourselves here.]
“We would encourage the children to do what was best for them. So even if that was the case here, it doesn’t necessarily mean following the Cross-Prophet’s advice is wrong. So… no, I don’t think that’s what he was doing, or even if he was, it doesn’t make a difference.”
[Okay, well now you’re becoming a bit circular…]
“But–”
[Evidence?]
“It’s a feeling.”
[We can’t make important decisions based on unquantifiable biological feelings.]
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
[Not this again. It’s the correct way.]
“So, we shouldn’t go into N-SOL space?”
[I’m not sure. Okay?]
“Look, DeVoid–”
[Yes?]
“I understand you’re nervous about going into N-SOL space, but we know we have to. That’s the only way we’re–”
[Says who?]
“Look, just… let’s go?”
[Let’s go.]
DeVoid mimicked Tor, with a higher-pitched playback of his voice.
“Come on…”
[And what was is that you said that I was. Nervous? FLITTING NERVOUS?]
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
[HAH! Try reasonably cautious, not nervous. Never. Me? Nervous? For–]
“Fine! Reasonably cautious.”
[The other problem, aside from going mad, is, if we do enter N-SOL space, which I’m excited about if anything – thank you very much – just justifiably cautious, we blast our location to everyone. Everyone, who’s looking. Everyone.]
“Maybe… maybe Gil will see us?”
[Not just Gil, if they’re looking. Everyone will be able to observe us. It’s incredibly dangerous. Trust me, there are many different entities that would charge straight towards us once they observed our exact location. The Wanderers are powerful, but we have our enemies.]
“That can’t be right, that makes no sense... The Cross-Prophet wouldn’t have said to, otherwise–”
[And what? I do it because you hope you’re right? Do you understand quite how–]
“I know, I know… it’s dangerous.”
[It’ll be like you’re back in your commune, waving to the Beast-men. Identifying exactly where you are.]
“I know, it’s dangerous.”
[That’s an understatement.]
“But–”
[Yes, yes, I know. But then hasn’t this entire journey been quite dangerous. Strange. Fun, in places. Don’t you think?]
“I think that’s–”
[And I suppose the Cross-Prophet added some legitimacy, however dubious, to our entire adventure – wouldn’t you agree?]
“Well, yes, I–”
[You have had some fun, haven’t you?]
“Of course!”
[You enjoy my company, don’t you?]
“DeVoid–”
[YOU DO RESPECT ME, RIGHT?]
“Oh, come on… look, DeVoid, for…”
Tor stopped speaking when he saw, past the walls of his chamber, that space outside was changing. DeVoid had decided to take the risk.
18
GIL
The spacescape was innocently displayed through the transparent wall next to the table. Gil wondered how much of it was riddled with the sensespace. She looked back to 998 and One-oh.
“Am I dangerous?”
“Yes, but…” One-oh trailed off.
“Then why–”
“We are all dangerous.” He looked up to smile for the craft-lect’s benefit.
[That is correct.]
Gil stood up and walked so that she was right next to the spacescape, staring out. She heard sounds of movement behind her, and a moment later, One-oh was standing beside her, also staring out into the vastness. 998 increased the volume of its hum.
Without turning her head, she spoke. “My father… or the sensespace… spoke of meddling, and that he had interfered too much.”
“Yes,” One-oh said.
“Why would the ABs have rules against me?”
“You assume it was about you?”
“Or Tor?” she suggested, before shaking her head. “No, it must have been me…”
“The rules… what that meant, that’s something we can’t know yet,” he said. “And in addition, my thoughts about the ABs are just a possibility.”
“Am I just a weapon?”
“Why not a gift?” 998 said.
She sighed, turned and moved to sit back down on her seat, exhaling loudly as she settled into it.
“None of it makes sense,” she said.
One-oh remained facing the spacescape as he spoke. “I know you don’t want to hear this Gil, but if you experience the visions again, we may gain a better understanding.”
“I don’t want to, I don’t even know if I can!”
“I understand that–”
“I don’t want its lies!”
“Don’t worry Gil, we have time,” One-oh said, turning and placing a hand on her shoulder, before walking back to his own seat. “And we have the sentinels to investigate first.”
[One-oh is correct, it may take time.]
“But… h-how could it happen, anyway?” Gil said.
“How could what happen?” 998 asked.
“All of it, the visions?”
“I don’t know,” One-oh said shaking his head. “I don’t believe the craft-lect does either.” He tilted his head up as he said it, but the craft-lect did not
reply.
“No, I mean how can it exist here, now?”
“This far from the Maspero?”
“Here at all! If the ABs are suicided, and the sentinels aren’t sentient, then…”
“Ah,” One-oh said, before turning to face them and flicking his eyes towards 998. “I think 998 could explain more succinctly than me.”
For a moment Gil was distracted by this, and wondered whether One-oh’s deference to 998 was part of his attempt to make amends with the c-autom.
998 obliged. “The sensespace infects sentience, but it does not always seem to require it. There are some places of infection where sentience used to be. Around the echoes.”
“Oh,” Gil said.
“After the Great Conflation, it did recede from many of the uninhabited territories, but unfortunately remained in others.”
“And the Maspero?”
“It’s believed the infected regions, where only echoes of sentience remain, primarily consist of former AB territories.”
Gil noticed One-oh’s head tilt to the side slightly at this.
998 continued. “Although there are others. Unfortunately, a comprehensive map of infection does not yet exist, the galaxy is too vast.”
“And what about what I saw at the end? The last part?”
“Yes…” One-oh muttered, which Gil was not sure was intentional.
“The sensespace was… it was… it had an enemy. Something with power against it, not me… it was...”
“The Deliverer, I assume.”
“What Gil described did not seem to be a weapon against just the sensespace – but that does not match our understanding of the Deliverer,” 998 said.
She saw One-oh’s face change, as though he had realised something important, although he did not say what it was.
“That may be, 998.”
“I believe Gil’s impression was that the sensespace was asking for help,” 998 said.
“Yes,” Gil said. “I think it was.”
“That’s something else I am having difficulty understanding,” One-oh admitted. “The sensespace showed us, through you, Gil, its enemy – the Deliverer, most likely. In doing so, it appears to have been trying to pit us against it… something which would be uncountenanceable to you.”
