The Rise of OLMAC

by Kevin Gordon

were returning, could feel the message they brought back to the Novan people. He expanded his awareness ever outward exponentially, riding along the brane of the cosmos. He ventured to the inner part of the galaxy, around and through worlds and people the Rell race would not see for many millennia.

  There is so much life! What looks cold and sterile, teems with people not unlike ourselves.

  Graid centered on a planet small and bluish, like Iqui appeared some ten millennia ago. His consciousness expanded around that world, learning their history, the many cultures on their world. It was relatively primitive—fossil fuels still fed their machines, the science of the mechanical was at a very basic stage. But the vibrancy of life amazed Graid, the vocal interactions, the laughter, and joy.

  And the singing!

  It was long since audible songs were sung on Novan, and even Rell had little vocal entertainment. Graid saw the youth of that world dance in front of a performer, heard musical instruments set people in motion.

  To live, carefree, at least for a time. To have that sense of belonging, of friendship. How it has been lost among us who arrogantly call ourselves ‘advanced.’

  For a while he absorbed all that his consciousness encompassed, at once becoming so many trillions of people. So many perspectives were open to him, so many different ways of living, of existing. He could feel a common thread among them all; from plant, to animal, to souman, but felt he would need to break the barriers of time to understand it all. He drew back, condensing his self, his consciousness speeding back to the Novan system.

  What is that? I can feel it.

  Back through the moons of Novan he sped, sensing at last the massive moon called Malhrer.

  I have found you, Mal.

  Graid could feel ten million soumans inhabiting the metal moon walking and casting, working and sleeping. He could sense the millions of meta functioning, cleaning the massive moon. He concentrated on Malhrer, sinking deeper and deeper into it, descending through the levels of the metal enclosure.

  This is Malhrer? You have concealed it well, Mal. Graid sailed through the interior of the moon, looking on the many platforms that formed the moon, seeing the atmosphere move slowly along its interior. The Ehlios passed nearby, and Graid descended into it. He saw the Monitors—Agilia, Qergien, and Raent, seated, reviewing reports. His mind hovered over Agilia for a few moments.

  She is quite beautiful. Her hair hung lightly at her shoulders, her soft eyes closed, mentally focusing on TELREC issues. Graid could feel her intelligence, knew all she had been through to attain the status as Monitor.

  You have had no personal life, like Uonil. You even have a favorite chair, like Uonil. He came closer to her, feeling the warm pulse of her body, the smoothness of her skin. To think, I was never to have met you. Never to have seen you, you who are second only to Mal. You are my sworn enemy, and yet, seated like this, I would love you. . .

  He pulled away, sorrow filling his breast. Moving out of the Ehlios, he turned to see the sentient sun.

  This is what you are? None of us would have imagined. Graid drew closer to the sun, amazed at the toroid that enclosed it. He passed through the metal structure, seeing the millions of meta climbing within its bounds, adjusting and maintaining the sun.

  What arrogance! You truly do believe you are a Kal, don’t you Mal? And your TELREC worship you as the primitives of old, adoring the sun that gives them life and light. He moved down, into the spinning sphere that glowed beneath him. I can feel you, Mal. Can you feel me? He moved into the sun, and all was brilliance around him. I have found what no Rell has before me. In tils, I could end the TELREC threat, once and for all.

  A being coalesced in front of him. Made of energy, it radiated an intense light, denser and whiter than the sun itself. It took on the form of a man, with limbs afire with energy, with a face thin and blank. Graid solidified a part of himself, appearing as a faint echo of himself.

  ^You must be Graid.^

  ^And you must be Mal.^

  Next to the energy that was Mal, a second form appeared. Glowing faintly in a dim orange, it was kneeling on the ground, its head down next to Mal. Graid thought on it, and felt they were both aspects of Mal, seemingly ignorant of one another. They took a moment to examine one another. Mal moved slightly closer, probing Graid’s consciousness. Graid allowed Mal some access, enough to confirm his identity.

  ^I have so many questions for you Mal. Or should I say, Master Intellect? Who named you?^

  ^No one named me, Kal-Alçon. I am not an acronym, some mere assemblage of parts. I am the most unique lifeform the universe will ever see. It will never see another like me.^

  For a moment Graid thought it to be the most arrogant statement he ever nested. Then he thought of the seven millennia of chronicles Mal had assimilated, the untold billions of lives Mal knew every detail of, and had to nod in assent.

  ^But even I, Graid, am merely a means to an end.^

  ^A means to an end? A tool, used to bridge one epoch with another? A catalyst, or even a Kal-Alçon? Do you really think of yourself in those terms, Mal?^

  ^A part of me does. You know, Graid, you should not be here.^

  ^I can be anywhere I choose, machine,^ Graid cast firmly. He advanced forward, as Mal faded back. ^I will know all you do, Mal. All your secrets will be known to me.^

  Mal stood his ground, attempting to mentally repulse Graid’s consciousness. Graid pressed on the consciousness that was Mal, beginning to divine some of his secrets. Graid had an image in his mind resolve of thousands, hundreds of thousands of suns, like this one, enclosed by toroids, spread throughout the cosmos, separate, yet all linked invisibly through the brane itself. Then, as soon as it was learned, it was forgotten. Graid stumbled back, aware of another presence.

  ^You are not allowed here, Graid.^

  ^Not allowed?^ Graid laughed. ^I am here. And there is nothing you can do about it. Submit to my will.^

  ^Graid . . .^

  Graid could feel the cast of the Kal-Durrell.

  ^Yes?^

  ^You are not allowed there. You must leave.^

  ^Why?^ he asked, growing defiant.

  ^Because we command it.^

  The cast carried the weight of the mind of each and every Kal-Durrell. It weighed on Graid’s mind, crushing his self. He struggled against their pressure, peering with his mind to see the images of the Kal-Durrell.

  ^Why am I not allowed here?!^ he demanded, the power glowing in his hands. ^No more riddles, no more evasions, or hiding behind your positions, tell me! I demand it!^

  The form of Mal vanished in front of him, as Graid’s essence was pushed out of the sun, out of Malhrer.

  ^No!^ Graid clenched his fists, his visage contorted in hate. ^I will not accept this, I cannot accept this!^

  He expanded his power outwards, with all the strength he could muster. For am moment, he became everything, first in the galaxy, then in the entire universe. His will pushed his consciousness faster than anything imaginable, reducing the size of the universe down to a few heartbeats. He pushed even beyond that, feeling the boundaries of time pushing him back.

  I must know it all. I am so close, I need answers. And if the Kal-Durrell will not give them, then I will go to Kal herself.

  He pressed against the boundary of all existence, and for a moment he flickered out of his own time—for a moment he did not exist.

  Wait—I can see!

  I am everyone.

  I am all those yet to be!

  At once he felt more powerful than anything in existence, and at the same time, knew he was a mote in the eternal scheme of things, that he knew not what true power was.

  Who is . . . Honabre?

  Graid could feel a warmth, could feel the essence of what was in the Alçon, in Polintin, at Martel’s remembrance. There were no words exchanged, but Graid could feel the being he sensed held profound disappointment for Graid.

  No—not yet!

  And suddenly he reappeared again, some unkno
wn force pushing him back in his body, which plummeted to the Novan ground. He fell badly on his left leg. Graid curled into a crumpled heap, and with heaving shoulders, sobbed.

  The night faded into the gentle hues of morning, opening the world to the sounds of sunrise. Around Core billions of people rose, washed, dressed and ate, as they followed the clarion call of work or duty. The machine of civilization continued, ever ceaseless, pitiless, ignorant of the travails of an alien in its midst.

  Graid stumbled through the swelling crowds, making his way back to Rellcine. He found himself looking more and more in the eyes of those around him, and to his surprise, they looked back at him. Quick glances, surreptitious lifting of eyelids, Graid knew Novan was subtly changing, that its people seemed to be more aware. For once he felt obvious, naked in a sea of people. The first rays of the sun screamed upon the landscape, revealing all that was hidden in shadow and darkness. The towers of Novan offered no solace for Graid’s soul, no place to be shielded from revelation.

  Onward he traveled for what seemed to be many cas, weaving though faces distant yet scared. On trans he traveled, huddled together with the masses trusting their lives to a machine at the controls. Up they rose, for a moment ascending through the Window of the World, so the tourists on board could point and stare. Then down they turned, descending fast, moving through dozens of levels of sky-traffic, feeling the sun vanish above him, as the mantle of Topside sealed him in. And as the spires of Rellcine resolved into his view, he almost felt unified