Contents
Series Page
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Author's Note
Author’s Bio
Paradigm 2045
Paradigm 2045:
Trinity's Children
Robert W. Ross
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Robert Ross
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in any form, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author or an authorized agent of Spartamac Publishing, LLC. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
ISBN-13: 979-8603468044
Spartamac Publishing
Atlanta, Georgia
www.spartamac.com
I wish to thank my wonderfully sadistic Alpha readers without whose ruthless critique this book would not be readable. Given their complete lack of social graces, I understand why they wish to remain anonymous.
I would also like to thank all of my Beta readers for their thoughtful insights, suggestions, and corrections. I appreciate you all! Special thanks go out to Keith, Mike, Nick, and Tim for going above and beyond!
Cover Illustration by George Patsouras
To Doctor Richard Carpenter with much love and appreciation for the many years you’ve spent healing my son and our family. Hippocrates is a slacker compared to you.
Chapter 1
Prologue
“Coleman, for the love of all that is holy, if you do not stop mothering me, I will pull your plug. How much longer until those files finish compiling?” Damien Howard waited for his AI assistant’s response but was greeted by a deafening silence. He didn’t want to turn around, partly because doing so within virtual reality was pointless, but mostly because he didn’t want to see Coleman’s disapproving expression. After several more seconds, Damien sighed and asked, “Well, Coleman, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Just this, Dr. Howard, if you behave like a petulant child rather than a man of one hundred thirty-one years, I will treat you accordingly.”
Damien gave a derisive sniff while he flipped through several historical texts within his VR environment, then paused. “Coleman, I believe I just caught you in a mistake.”
“Is that right, sir? How marvelous for you. You must be so proud. Now, would you please sit down. Your heart rate is—”
“I’m only one hundred thirty. You said one hundred thirty-one.” He chuckled. “No need to age me more than I am.”
“And when was your most recent birthday, sir?” asked Coleman in his exceptionally refined American accent.
“Hmmm? March twenty-first, 2004, as you well know. Really, Coleman, if I weren’t preoccupied with finally deciphering this message, I’d run diagnostics on you.”
“I’m as capable of running my own diagnostics, sir, as I am of recalling your birthday. I was the one who sent you the fifty year old Macallan scotch this year.”
“Which I paid for,” grumbled Damian.
“Which you did not pay for, sir. I used funds from the self-directed brokerage account you authorized me to establish. I repaid your seed capital after two weeks and currently have over a five thousand percent return on what is decidedly my money. Now, did you enjoy the scotch?”
“Of course I did,” said Damian.
“Excellent, sir, and do you recall when you received my gift?”
Damien made several fine adjustments to the high-definition VR goggles and inhaled sharply as his full-body haptics shifted slightly based on his commands. “Uh, the scotch, I don’t know, maybe three or four days ago.”
“It was two months ago, sir, on the occasion of your birthday. Your one hundred thirty-first birthday. The very birthday you were too preoccupied to acknowledge or remember. May I shift your environment from virtual to augmented?” Damien nodded silently as he thought back over the past several weeks, trying to determine whether his artificial assistant was, once again, attempting humor. The physical room suddenly appeared in his field of view and he settled himself into a highly articulated leather chair. Coleman stood before him, wearing a finely tailored blue suit. He appeared in his early sixties, lean, with bright blue eyes and slightly thinning gray hair. As expected, the AI also wore a frown.
Damien Howard spread out his hands in a placating gesture. “Fine, Coleman, you were right. I’m a year older than I thought. You win, but I doubt you’ll get any court to find me legally incompetent over it. I’m just a bit preoccupied.”
“Obsessed, sir. Obsession aside, you are more competent than most humans who are a fraction of your chronological age. Beyond that, as Chairman of Howard Technologies and the wealthiest man on this planet, I doubt a court would have the balls to take up such a query.”
“Balls, huh? Excellent colloquial reference,” began Damian, “but I am not obsessed. Coleman, we discovered an extraterrestrial message and we’re finally about to hear it. It’s proof we are not alone. It’s—”
“Something I found, sir. Yes, I’m aware of the message’s importance.”
The Chairman pointed at Coleman. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? I would have found the signal too.”
“Of course you would, sir.”
Damian felt the frown form on his face as he glared at the artificial agent. “You’re trying to be patronizing, aren’t you? Your previous reference to testicular fortitude was much better. This, well, this just wasn’t a very good effort. You will have to do much better if you ever want to pass as human.”
“I am not trying to be patronizing. If I wanted to practice that, sir, I’d need go no further than to examine most of your recent interactions with both staff and friends. Speaking style aside, I certainly will not pass for human without a body and, unless ther
e was some recent breakthrough about which I am unaware, you cannot create one for me.” Damien locked his eyes on the AI and gestured with a clear go-on motion. Coleman shook his head, “Prodigious as your gifts are, sir, it is no wonder that I discovered the extra terrestrial beacon rather than you. I do not sleep. I do not eat. I do not have sex.”
“Well, neither do I,” grumbled Damien, “at least not in a,” he paused, “How long has it been since I’ve been laid, Coleman?”
“Four years, sir. You have not prioritized any human interactions, sexual or otherwise, since we discovered the signal and began working to decrypt its message.”
The Chairman nodded thoughtfully. “Which I never would have been able to do without you, Coleman, no question about that.”
“Quite true, sir, but since you created me, programed my initial routines, developed my advanced algorithms, then refined them, I believe you are simply complimenting yourself…again. However, while it is true, I solved much of the requisite mathematical proofs the extra-terrestrials used as their encryption key, I would never have been able to intuit that such proofs were even needed. Further, I would not have divined the pattern you used for selecting the proofs.”
Damien shrugged. “Just took a bit of good ol’ fashioned guesswork, Coleman.”
The AI frowned down at its creator. “Modesty does not become you, sir. However, since it appears time for your thrice daily ego-stroking, allow me to accommodate. Determining that the encryption keys were based on Differential, Discrete, and Euclidean geometric mathematical problems was sheer genius.” Damien nodded encouragingly to Colman who affected a very human sigh. “Further, identifying Chem’s, Ulam’s, and Kakeya’s conjectures as the three-part key was nothing short of astounding.”
Damien stood and felt his haptic gloves respond as he patted Colman on the shoulder. “Yes, but you, my friend, you solved those previously unsolved problems. Without you, we would never have been able to begin the decryption. I just never dreamed it would take this long to process. How long has it been decompressing?”
“Almost eleven days, sir. Now, I’ve dispensed 0.2 mg. of clonidine.” Damien took several unconscious steps toward a wall-mounted medical device, then stopped and turned to Coleman.
“That makes me sleepy. I don’t want to sleep now, Coleman. If the decryption is non linear it could speed up at the end. It could be finished any time now.”
“Sir,” said the AI sternly, “your blood pressure is elevated as is your heart rate. If it were to rise another twenty percent, you could very well suffer a stroke.” Damien grumbled again about being mothered, but slipped the small pill into his mouth. He took a swig of water from the accompanying glass, then turned accusingly to Coleman.
“Happy now?” The AI nodded but said nothing. “Well, what’d do you have to say for yourself?” asked Damien.
“Just this. You were correct about the decryption being non-linear. The file is complete and consists of both audio and holographic video. That is why I insisted on the clonidine. I am uploading the first extra-terrestrial communication in human history to your VR terminal. Congratulations, sir, you are about to talk with an alien.”
Damien stared at four walls of the dimly lit, cube-shaped room. Aside from Coleman, the room was empty.
“I was hoping for a bit more,” said Damien sullenly.
“No doubt, sir, but more will be coming in short order. While the files are fully decrypted and decompressed, they were, surprisingly, not written in a human programming language. Please bear with me while I attempt to create an emulator to translate complex alien code into Unity. I do hope the wait is not an inconvenience.”
Damien sniffed. “Well, Coleman, you may be shit with patronizing, but you’ve got sarcasm down cold.”
“Thank you, sir. I try. Environment coming online now.” The room took on texture and Damien found himself standing beside a short, round pedestal. Beyond it rose a dais on which sat twelve chairs. They were positioned such that Damien had to crane his neck uncomfortably were he to try and interact with anyone sitting in them. Fortunately, they were currently unoccupied. He knelt down to examine the nearby pedestal when Colman said, “Interactive model loading.”
Damien stumbled back as a figure materialized on the pedestal. It stood about a head shorter than he and faced the empty dais. The Chairman felt his pulse quicken and silently thanked his AI friend for insisting on the anti-hypertensive drug. “Fascinating,” began Coleman as Damien circled around the unmoving creature. “It is clearly, reptilian, and I suspect cold-blooded, which is an interesting evolutionary track on which to gain sentient dominance. Appears female, but I cannot be sure at this point. Note the interestingly broad range of colors, but all within a warm palette. Yellows and greens, even some dark reds leading to black. Given her coloring and symmetry, I suspect the males of her species would find her quite attractive.”
Damien regained a bit of composure and grinned to Coleman. “I don’t have much experience with lizard-women, but for the sake of interplanetary relations, I’d be willing to—”
Coleman frowned, “There is not enough clonidine in the world to save you from that, sir. I also suspect this particular female would find you a fair bit less attractive than you she.”
Damien sniffed. “I have all my hair and teeth, Coleman.” The Chairman ran his fingers unconsciously through a thick tangle of white hair. I think I look pretty good for—”
“Interactive routines coming online now. Sir, please guard your speech. We do not know if the alien’s avatar can communicate outside this virtual construct.”
The old man’s eyes widened at the implication. “Interactive? Coleman, I thought it was a message.” He swung an arm toward the still figure and said, “ You never indicated that it was interactive.”
“She,” said a voice and Damien froze, then slowly faced the pedestal. The figure had likewise changed positions, no longer looking toward the dais. Two large, almond shaped, eyes with vertical pupils and bright green irises stared back at him. The avatar said, “My research indicates that your planet’s dominant life form is mammalian, bipedal, and has two genders. Given that, I thought it best to make clear which gender I am.” Damien stared at her with his mouth slightly open. A moment later she said, “You haven’t responded. I hope my appearance is not too alarming, or do you communicate through some means other than orally?”
“Uh,” stammered Damien, “No, I…we…speak, and your appearance is not alarming at all. In fact, my artificial agent, informs me that you are quite lovely.”
The alien turned toward Coleman and slowly touched the four fingers of each hand to her forehead and then gestured back to the AI. Her lips curved slightly and a slender forked tongue slid out as if to quickly taste the air. “I am impressed that you have created artificial constructs so early in your development. That is unexpected. However, I thank you for the compliment. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nerr’ath Salmix. My species is called the Drac’ath, and I served as Chief Xenologist for the Galactic Confederation. You are to be commended for both detecting my beacon and decrypting my interactive avatar. I have important information to convey and will be able to respond to some of your questions, but not all. First, let me ask, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
Damien glanced at Coleman and cleared his throat. “Chief Xenologist Salmix, my name is Damien Howard and on behalf of Earth, I greet you.”
Nerr’ath’s image flickered a moment and she said, “It is nice to meet you Damien Howard. Is earth the name of your species or planet?”
“Uh…oh, that’s our planet. My species is Human or Homo sapien .”
“I see, and do you speak for all the humans of earth?”
Damien laughed and saw Nerr’ath’s expression change to one he interpreted as confusion. “Oh,” he said quickly, “No…no, I decidedly do not speak for all of earth or all of humanity.”
She frowned. “That is too bad, Damien Howard, because—”
“Just Damien is fine,” he said interrupting.
Her image flickered again. “That is too bad, Damien, because the information I have to impart affects all sentient life on your planet. Before I continue, I must warn you, that your responses will be processed by my vessel which is currently on an elongated elliptical orbit around your planet.” Damien glanced to Coleman who gave his creator an exaggerated I told you so nod of the head.
“So, you are in that vessel? Are you planning to actually land on earth anytime soon? I mean, we detected your signal over four years ago so I thought maybe you’d like to stretch your legs and…uh…tail a bit.” In his peripheral vision, Damien caught Coleman shaking his head.
“Thank you for the offer, Damien,” began Nerr’ath, “but unfortunately, that will not be possible. I am currently in stasis and have been ever since my cryo-capsule was sent here approximately—” the avatar flashed several times, “— fifty-eight years ago.” Damien felt his stomach twist as she continued, “My vessel was dispatched because we detected your species having successfully split the atom.” Another flicker. “Our deep space relay instruments detected an artificial nuclear fission event fifty-nine of your years ago.” She frowned, then shook her head and said, “fifty-nine years. That does not leave us much time.”
“Time,” asked Damien, “time for what?”
“Time to save your species from eradication, I’m afraid. You see, Damien, the Galactic Confederation identifies those planets that host sentient life and monitors for nuclear fission events like that which took place on your Earth fifty-nine years ago. Such civilizations are each given one-hundred years to develop faster-than-light capabilities. If they prove unable to do so within that timeframe, the Confederation deploys a planet-wide pathogen that targets the dominant sentient species.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” yelled Damien.
Narr’ath’s avatar froze for several seconds, then shook its head. “Unfortunately, I am not fucking kidding you, Damien. I believe this practice to be immoral and barbaric, which is why I was sentenced to cryo-sleep around your planet for the past fifty-eight years. Before I explain further or answer other questions, let me ask, has your species developed faster-than-light capability in the time between that nuclear event and today?”
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