Infinite Eyes (Wanderers Book 3)

by James Murdo

  41

  DEVOID

  DeVoid had to admit, regrettably, it was becoming incurably bored. The same as Tor, before he had been put to sleep over three hundred years before. Coming to a realisation it never thought it would, DeVoid considered putting itself to sleep, ready to reawaken only once something different happened. Perhaps this was what had really sent Thy mad, some sort of perpetual lect-numbingly tedious prison that it had eventually escaped, been released or expelled from.

  Sleep for Wanderer machine-lects was not a simple matter, since a variety of options were open to them with regards to what they experienced. Many chose to void themselves, removing their intellectual imprints from real space for the duration of the sleep – hibernating completely, until the spark of sentience was rekindled. However, they could also choose for events to be replayed and relived. Hypothetical courses of actions could be investigated. Extreme fantasies, which even machine-lects often had, could be fulfilled. Perceived time could be pushed to the brink of the rate at which Wanderer technologies would allow, or pulled back so that millions of years were skipped in the flash of a nova. Certain machine-lects willing to test themselves to their extremes and explore their own resilience might choose to experience tortuous pain, or even absolute bliss – all of it was possible in the virtual realm of sleep that afforded no external distractions.

  DeVoid had not yet decided which form of sleep offended its sensitivities the least, although the potential to use the sleep for an investigation appealed more strongly than for its own pleasure. That would be almost justifiable. Conducting an experiment to improve its understanding of existence. A quasi-sleep, similar to its self-research on ‘selective suppression’.

  Intermittently, while at the data exchange, DeVoid had engaged in the practice of selective suppression, whereby certain facets of its lect were dampened for short periods of time – nothing longer than a few thousand years. Wanderer machine-lect intellects were all different, both within the same classes of sentient and between them – even accounting for the craft-lect triplet creation process. DeVoid was composed differently from other data-lects, and all data-lects were composed differently to craft-lects, or gate-lects. There were, at the least, quantum-spatial dissimilarities, between all lects. Therefore, there were no previous studies with a lect exactly as itself that it could definitively look towards to satiate its curiosity.

  The Usurper and Step Principles did not come into play with selective suppression because new technologies were not explored or invented. The aim was to optimise or explore the change in functionality of a lect, and factors that yielded interesting results for one individual did not necessarily yield the same for another.

  The majority of Wanderer machine-lect intellects were dual constructions, comprising the physical construct housing the required technologies, as well as the emergent cognisant properties of that construct – similar to many biological sentients. For the most part, the dual structures were wholly inseparable, although changing one did not always have a corresponding effect on the other. The Trizek’d Theory of Lect was in a constant state of flux. New events and technologies, the expansion of spacetime, ideas and principles, linked components – anything that was able to influence a lect was a variable in the theory. It was included in the category of theories that would forever remain as such. It was unlikely to be ultimately solvable.

  The Wanderers’ version of the theory was tailored to their own civilisation, although the broader, more general theory, was known as the Theory of the Intellect. It was generally applicable to all biologicals, machine-lects and exotic variants that had been thus far discovered and able to be proven to have sentience. Exclusions were rare, and more a factor of certain sentients being entirely agnostic to communication, and therefore investigation.

  DeVoid’s own fast flowing stream of consciousness did not require tweaking, but curiosity made the investigation appealing. Its small experiments included suppressing certain categories of thought, response speed, learning capabilities, non-databanks memory recall capacity and reasoning abilities, alongside various physical suppressions such as removing the data feeds from select sensors. During these experiments, it monitored how its physical lect construct attempted to adapt, as well as for changes to its emergent cognisance. It could have attempted these experiments virtually, but there was no substitute for the real thing, and that was one of the advantages the Wanderers had over other civilisations – dispersed, highly capable, and allowed to experiment.

  As DeVoid continued to ponder over whether and how to sleep, as though in response to its ennui, something finally happened. Some of the closest tubes retreated back into themselves, seeming to have shot back from whence they came. They disappeared back into the recesses of N-SOL space that were beyond DeVoid’s sensors.

  After all the nearest rods had retreated, ones that were further away also began to retreat, in numbers that increased exponentially with time. Soon enough, they were all gone. It was time to awaken Tor.

  [Tor.]

  “To…”

  [Tor.]

  “Tor…?”

  [Tor.]

  “Tor?”

  [Who repeats their own name when they wake up?]

  “De… Void.”

  [They’re gone.]

  “DeV… w… what?”

  [They’re gone!]

  “They’re… who they’re? The… wh…”

  [The tubes are gone!]

  “What tu… tubes? Gone tube?”

  [Come on Tor, wake up.]

  “The… tubes?”

  [YES, THE FLITTING TUBES.]

  “They’re… gone?”

  [YES.]

  “All… of… them?”

  [Yes.]

  “All?”

  [YES, YES, YES, YES, YES. Have I damaged your intellect?]

  “Finally!”

  [What?]

  “What’s… happening now?”

  [Nothing.]

  “Nothing?”

  [Can you stop repeating me?]

  “Surely… something must be happening?”

  [Yes, something probably will.]

  “How long do… you think we’ll have to…w… wait?”

  [In the name of the Enclave, how am I supposed to know that?]

  “Where did they go?”

  [Wherever they came from, presumably.]

  “That’s good!”

  [Thanks very much for your opinion on the matter. Invaluable.]

  *

  After the excitement of the tubes disappearing, at first, they had been sorely disappointed. Nothing had followed for the next couple of hours, until tubes started appearing again. In front of the ship’s bow, facing them. There were only a few hundred, as far as DeVoid could tell, although they were thicker than the ones from before.

  “Do you think they’ve lost interest in us?” Tor asked, yawning.

  [No.]

  “Are they only in front?”

  [Yes.]

  “We’re moving?”

  [I can’t detect it other than extrapolating from what we deduced before about the tubes affecting our velocity, but I believe that’s a reasonable assumption to make.]

  “Finally!”

  [I agree.]

  …

  [Tor.]

  “Yes?”

  [I CAN DETECT REAL SPACE AGAIN!]

  They were accelerating and, surprisingly, were already travelling near to the same speed at which they had initially entered N-SOL space at. Shortly after that, they matched that initial speed – then they exceeded it.

  [Hmm.]

  “What?”

  [Do you feel funny, at all?]

  “No, why?”

  They were moving faster than was possible, nothing could accelerate right up to and smash light speed. This was N-SOL space, it did not cater for such speeds. But it seemed as though they had, or that they were taking periodic shortcuts. Moving through parts of N-SOL space that bypassed sections of real space. DeVoid’s instrument
s designed to monitor its speed periodically went haywire, spewing out nonsense in alignment with each possible shortcut. Sometimes the hazy real space was discernible around them, and sometimes it was not.

  “What’s going on?”

  [Not quite sure.]

  “Are we heading towards the centre of the galaxy?”

  [Hope so. It’s hard to tell right now.]

  “We’re moving quickly?”

  [That would be an understatement.]

  “The Cross-Prophet didn’t lie?”

  [Let’s wait and see where we’re taken before jumping to that conclusion.]

  The tubes were still in front of them, guiding them.

  42

  GIL

  Gil looked out through the transparent wall at the habitat before them. It looked like most of the other barren, safe planets, although it was hard to tell. She could request a more detailed viewpoint, as 998 had access to and she assumed One-oh did as well, but held off for the moment. If they needed to open another gateway quickly, she had to be ready. She could find out about this planet’s interesting details later.

  [No sentinels present, and no sensespace presence.]

  She nodded meekly.

  “Interesting,” One-oh said, quietly.

  He had not given the impression that he was able to see or sense anything she was not, but then she knew that his body was only superficially similar to her own.

  “Yes,” 998 said.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A hollow-world,” 998 informed her.

  “A hollow-world?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t previously thought the Maspero had any.”

  “What’s a hollow-world?”

  “A world-sized husk. It appears typical, but the interior isn’t – gravitational readings are almost negligible, compared to what they should be.”

  “What are they for?”

  “Many different reasons, but usually–”

  “But, there’ve been lots of strange places, haven’t there?”

  “This is different. This is a known type of construction, easily identifiable. The strange thing is that it’s within this Maspero gateway network.”

  “Oh… is it important?”

  “Maybe,” One-oh whispered. “But for now, I suggest–”

  [Let’s leave, Gil.]

  She took one last look at the innocuous hollow-world before them, before complying.

  *

  It had taken three more journeys through different gateways until they found themselves at a safe habitat. The planet was desolate, a barren desert. No sentinels, no technologies, nothing to warrant concern. The solar system they were in was small, only two other planets further out from the central star – gas giants. 998 had long ago explained the distinction between the various categories of planets, yet Gil had never seen them up close.

  She went with 998 to one of the viewing chambers it had created, which was complete with various pieces of equipment allowing her to make use of the craft-lect’s sensors. Viewing the craft-lects stored recreations of the gas giants was different to seeing them in real space, as they currently were. She was still observing them through the craft-lect’s sensors, but it was more visceral.

  In comparison with the rocky planet that had assumedly once been a Maspero habitat, they were enormous. Each had vast encircling rings, which looked smooth from a distance, but were more accurately described as collections of rubble, up close.

  After exploring the gas giants, as well as some of the more distant reaches of the solar system where collections of asteroids orbited, she left the viewing chamber and made her way to the world-chamber. The juxtaposition of the sensory stimulation afforded by the viewing chamber, how she interacted with the gateways and the sensespace, in comparison with the physical mundanity of walking around the ship, helped keep her perspectives in order. Initially, it had been disconcerting, confusing, but now she welcomed the relative normality of it.

  “998.”

  “Yes, Gil.”

  “Why did you make all this?”

  “You mean why did I design the chambers as I did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some reasons you might call selfish. I wanted to prove what I was capable of, but most were for you.”

  They turned a corridor and 998 hovered a little closer to her, its warm glow heating her face.

  “A significant reason was to give you the world-chamber – the representation of your home. Having the need for something to call your own, something that helps define you, is a desire I understand very well. The craft-lect will forgive me, I am sure, for saying that is something it might have overlooked. Or not, considering it set in place the relevant permissions and controls leading to my work. Either way, I hoped it would help you.”

  It was right. Gil wondered whether the craft-lect might say something considering it had been directly referenced, but it did not. It rarely did on the occasions where she was having a discussion such as this with 998 or another c-autom. 998 did not seem bothered, in either case.

  “Thank you, you were right. It’s helped me… remain as I am. I mean, as I was. Between everything, this physical… substance, helps…”

  She trailed off, unable to think of how to best explain herself. 998 paused a few moments before replying. “I know.”

  They reached the corridor that culminated in the mouth of the world-chamber.

  *

  Gil looked out, across the world-chamber, and sighed. The representation of her home was comforting and helped put everything into perspective, but it was also a reminder of what she was on her journey for. What she was fighting for.

  “How many worlds did the Maspero have, 998?”

  “Thousands, as far as the Wanderers are aware. And if you are referring to their habitats in general, then far more. But they’ve not been scouted to the extent that the rest of the galaxy has. None of the ABs have.”

  “Are there a lot more that haven’t been scouted?”

  “That would be an understatement.”

  “But… if the Wanderers want to destroy infected sensespace regions, wouldn’t they have to destroy the–”

  “Yes, the ABs would be included in that, but you must realise, it would be a long time before that happened – before the only habitats left were those of the AB. I assume there are plans concocted by the Enclave for when that time comes. If, it comes.”

  “It sounds like that would take a very long time.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why did we need to leave the hollow-world–”

  They were interrupted by the craft-lect.

  [Gil, are you ready to open the next gateway?]

  “Yes, I am.”

  She held onto a higher branch with one hand and pulled herself to her feet. Facing the entrance to the chamber, she pushed forwards and glided towards it. She had never queried the exact mechanism that allowed her to move in this way, preferring to simply enjoy the experience. For that reason, whenever they emerged on the other side of a gateway to a sensespace-infected area, she made sure not to visit the chamber. Her abilities through the sensespace might have indicated to her how it all worked straight away, before she could dull them – ruining the experience.

  The sensespace let her sense real space and AB space, if that was indeed what she had sensed at the sentinel’s boundary – but it did not let her understand or enter it. Not yet. Added to that, her ability to control the gateways was distinct, separate from the sensespace. She did not require its presence. She could not explain how any of it worked, not really, and neither could the craft-lect.

  Initially, she had been concerned about when she was able to detect the sensespace’s presence on the ship, until the craft-lect had assured her multiple times that such low underlying levels of the parasite had never been known to cause infection. Still, she was an unknown factor in all of this and felt it was a risk. Perhaps unavoidable, but dangerous all the same.

  Landing at the entrance to the worl
d-chamber, Gil steadied herself before leaving, with 998 at her side. Its warm glow was pulsating slowly, although she knew it was excited – it enjoyed the journeys through the gateways.

  “We’re on our way,” she said.

  [I know.]

  It did not matter where in the ship she was, she could open the gateways from the world-chamber, the room with her bed, a viewing platform, or anywhere else if she wanted. However, she knew One-oh liked to be present, to observe her directly, as it happened. Besides, she was most comfortable opening them from the table-chamber, it felt fitting. It reminded her that the ability was not something to be toyed with.

  *

  A number of jumps later, Gil left the table-chamber, closely followed by 998. She was taking the opportunity of encountering a safe, barren, non-sensespace infected world, to take some rest.

  As she left the table-chamber, she smiled and nodded at One-oh, who raised his hand in a small wave, smiling genially as she left. Again, a shimmer seemed to appear fleetingly around him. She closed her eyes and shook her head – when she looked back, it was gone.

  With 998 behind her, she walked down the corridor, pausing for a moment.

  “This way.”

  998 took the lead.

  “Thank you, 998. I’m sorry, I’m a little tired… it’s…”

  “That’s okay, I understand.”

  Walking quietly behind 998, she began to wonder what One-oh did when she was not with him. Not only that, but also what he talked about with the craft-lect. Surely, they talked about her. She could understand that. But what else? He was a member of an ex-AB species, so she could imagine the craft-lect was hungry for his knowledge.

  Despite her lethargy, she was also worried about what lay ahead. During their entries into sensespace-infected territories, she had not wanted to delve into the sensespace too deeply again, to search or ask for more information. She suspected that would open her mind up to something she would be unable to fully control. Unfortunately, she knew that sooner or later, she would have to. They needed direction. Their brief skirmishes across Maspero habitats could not continue indefinitely.