Logic Beach- Part I

by Exurb1a

  “Salutations!” it said in a bold voice. “You are the first travellers we have seen in many centuries.”

  “Hello,” Argie said. “We’ve come looking for my daughter.”

  “Excuse her,” The Navigator said. “She’s an ape-fucker, doesn’t know the first thing about diplomacy. Do you have designations?”

  “I am the Sovereign,” the large creature said and raised itself up to a stately stature; stately for a blob anyway.

  The Navigator bowed. “We’re honoured to meet you.”

  The hell is this? Argie shot privately at The Navigator.

  Time moves faster up here, remember, The Navigator replied. A few of them have probably gone full solip. I doubt they even remember they were Lemurians. Just play along.

  “What do you make of our great civilisation?” the Sovereign said.

  Argie peered about at the unending red deserts and the hideous population. “Lovely,” she said.

  The Sovereign mashed two tentacles together excitedly. “Marvellous, marvellous! We have been waiting some time indeed to meet more travellers. Very few come through here at all these days…”

  “We’re extremely grateful for your hospitality,” Argie said. “But we actually came looking for someone. My daughter, Kaluza. Is that name familiar to you?”

  “The last travellers to land were centuries ago,” the Sovereign said.

  “Where did they come from, do you know?”

  “Oh they never say. No one ever says.”

  “I see. Well, we’re from-” but Argie couldn’t finish the sentence. She simply wasn't able to make Ape Cellar with her mouth. She looked to The Navigator. He tried it also and failed.

  “Could I offer you a tour of our civilisation?” The Sovereign said.

  Argie glanced at The Navigator again. “Yes, all right.”

  The Sovereign summoned an aircar and the three of them got in. It flew them over dome after dome: some of them greenhouses, others schools and hospitals and apartment complexes. Argie and The Navigator made polite and agreeable noises for several minutes, then Argie said, “Are there no barracks?”

  “Barracks?” the Sovereign said.

  “You know, for soldiers. Or tanks or bombers or anything.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Conflict. War. Aggression. All of it. How do you safeguard against such things?”

  The Sovereign thought about this a long time then said, “There’s no need to safeguard against things which don’t exist.”

  This is insane, Argie said through her selfsense.

  Be nice, The Navigator shot back. War isn’t essential for civilisation.

  The aircar landed on the great X again and Argie and The Navigator thanked the Sovereign and waved to the cheering onlookers.

  “Well, if ever you’re in the area,” the Sovereign said.

  “We’ll be sure to drop by, thanks,” Argie said.

  The two of them took off, back into the stratosphere and flew until they were once again several lightyears from the planet.

  “Right, what was that?” Argie said.

  “Lemurians go nuts too, you know. We may’ve accidentally wandered into some elaborate mega-fantasy. There were millions of them down there, God knows what it’s all about.”

  “There’s another world too,” Argie said, nodding to the little green sphere.

  The Navigator flew off without comment and she followed. A great arrow lay in the southern hemisphere of the planet, and the two of them came down on its very tip. Again a crowd was waiting for their arrival, but this time the creatures were tall and spindly, only a few inches wide, with eyestalks and absurdly small arms and hands. An even taller and spindlier creature emerged from the crowd.

  “Well met!” it cried and made some kind of ridiculous gesture with its tiny hands. “We have not had a traveller in some-”

  “Yes, all right,” Argie said. “We’re here about my daughter. She’s called Kaluza and-”

  “Excuse my companion,” The Navigator said. “She lost her manners in a bet. I assume you’re about to offer us a tour of your planet?”

  “Why, that’s right!”

  While waiting for their transport, the creature introduced itself as the president of the planet. Soon enough a floating platform arrived with guardrails and deckchairs. They boarded the contraption and it flew them over city after city, the buildings pyramid-like and constructed from some kind of transparent metal.

  “It’s funny, the others had quite different architecture,” Argie said.

  “Others?” the president said.

  “Yes, the-” Once again she could not form the end of the sentence. The president went back to admiring the scene below.

  It's a test, The Navigator said privately. Someone doesn't want these creatures knowing too much about the outside world. That means it must be a test.

  Not a zoo? Argie replied.

  Not a zoo, no. We're the only spectators. What would be the point?

  “Are there no barracks on your planet?” Argie said casually.

  “Barracks?” the president said.

  “Or wars. Or battles. Or fighting?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know those terms,” the president said.

  The rest of the tour was uneventful; more bizarre architecture and administrative buildings of no memorable worth. The transport landed at the tip of the arrow again and Argie and The Navigator bid the population farewell and found themselves once more in space between the two planets.

  The Navigator peered at the ribbon of galaxy running across their vision. “Well, it isn’t a nostalgia simulation like down in the Ape Cellar, that’s for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “Look,” he pointed. “These constellations are all made up. It’s not a real position in Outside Space.”

  “Fine, then they made it to escape the horrors of whatever normal Lemurian life is.”

  “They?” The Navigator grinned wryly. “You think they were denizens?”

  “I didn’t check.”

  “I did. Noncons, all of them.”

  “Nonc…”

  “It’s a Lemurian term. Up here they manufacture fake denizens from time to time, for entertainment. They aren’t conscious but they’re close enough. It’s almost impossible to distinguish them from real denizens without checking their identity-keys, usually.”

  “Then how did you know they weren’t denizens down there?”

  “Because they’re all happy, for one thing. No truly sentient creature is happy all the time.”

  Argie let that settle a while and admired the galaxy ahead. “If this is just an entertainment simulation then-”

  “Please specify your desired interference,” came the disembodied female voice again.

  “Um,” Argie said. “Who is that?”

  “Please specify-”

  “All right, what are the parameters? Of the 'interference', I mean,” The Navigator said.

  “Technology may be introduced to either World I, or World II. Technology must be within logical limits or thereabouts. Culture may also be altered.”

  “What’s the point, exactly?”

  “After two million years both cultures must still be intact. That is the objective of this exercise.”

  “Do they know about each other, the cultures?” The Navigator said.

  “No.”

  “Then that’s easy. Give me intuitive command over the interface.”

  The voice obeyed and with a thought The Navigator sped the simulation time up drastically. Both planets began to flourish, starships hovering in their atmospheres, fossil fuel clouds diminishing. Then World II was replaced suddenly with a blinding light. The light dimmed and the planet had vanished.

  “What happened?” The Navigator said.

  “Total annihilation of culture,” the voice said.

  “How?”

  “World I vapourised World II with a targeted antimatter strike.”


  “Why?”

  There was no response. The Navigator wound the simulation back to its starting point.

  “Please specify your desired interference,” the voice said again.

  “This is a game,” Argie said.

  “It looks that way, yes,” The Navigator grumbled.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, why would either world attack the other? They don’t even know what violence is.”

  The Navigator thought for a moment then said, “Can we change both species’ evolutionary history?”

  “Yes,” said the disembodied voice.

  “Then make the planets abundant with resources so there’s no competition.”

  “What are you doing?” Argie said.

  “Making sure they evolve with no capacity for aggression in any way. If aggression stems from coveting resources, we’ll just give them infinite resources. Can’t wipe each other out if they don’t even have the concept of wiping each other out.”

  The planets both altered in hue gently, symbolising that the change had taken place. Again, The Navigator wound the simulation forward. Around the million year mark, World I was replaced with a void. “The hell was that?” Argie said.

  “A weaponised singularity was dispatched by World II, obliterating World I in its entirety,” said the woman's voice.

  “Black hole?”

  “Black hole, yes.”

  “But we removed aggression…” The Navigator said.

  The voice did not respond.

  “As much fun as this is, how about we move to another part of Lemuria. We’re just wasting time,” Argie said.

  “Try it,” The Navigator said sombrely.

  Argie attempted to make a transport request. It was denied immediately. “There aren’t any transferral privileges. We can’t leave. What’s going on?”

  “It’s not a game. It’s a test.”

  “That’s correct,” the female voice said.

  “Who are you?” Argie called out.

  “You have been set a task. Please complete it.”

  “This is one of those fucking zoos you told me about, surely,” Argie muttered to The Navigator.

  “It’s not a zoo,” the voice said. “This is not for the purpose of entertainment, but for the sake of your own education. Please concentrate.”

  I’ve been in worse pinches, we’ll be fine. Do as she said, concentrate, The Navigator shot privately to Argie through his selfsense.

  He wound the simulation back to its starting point and both civilisations returned to a stable condition.

  “Please state your desired interference,” the voice said again.

  “What technologies were discovered just before the last catastrophe?” Argie said.

  “Several centuries previously both worlds perfected antimatter reactor technology, brain-to-brain communication, gravitational wave transmission, suspended animation, sentient artificial intelligence, and were researching nanoswarm applications.”

  “Can we change the physical constants in the galaxy?”

  “Within reasonable limits, yes.”

  “Lower the speed of light to a few kilometres an hour.”

  “What does that achieve?” The Navigator chuckled.

  Argie said nothing and wound the simulation forward at maximum speed. The flourishing occurred once again, nature harnessed in its entirety on both worlds. No catastrophe occurred and the simulation ran on, one million years into the future, one and a half million. Then suddenly World II dissolved into a great green blur.

  “Perfect,” The Navigator murmured.

  “Went a lot longer that time, didn’t it?”

  “Same result in the end though. What was the point?”

  “If the speed of light was slower, I thought it might stop them from building AI, or half-decent AI at least. If electricity moved at such a slow speed, you may as well make mechanical computers. No point inventing the microchip. Maybe it was AI that launched the attacks, getting too big for its boots.”

  “Fair point. Apparently incorrect though.”

  Another long silence. They thought through the danger technologies again and wound the simulation back to its starting point. Finally The Navigator said, “Remove all possibility in physics for fusion and fission reactions, as well as the existence of antimatter.”

  They began the simulation again. Around the million year mark both planets remained intact, but no electromagnetic radiation emanated from World I. “They’ve left for another star system,” Argie said.

  “No,” came the voice. “World II amassed a navy and wiped out World I via laser bombardment from orbit.”

  “How did they manage to cross space if the speed of light was-”

  “Suspended animation.”

  “Fine,” The Navigator said. “Then make it so that suspended animation can’t be-”

  “No,” Argie said. “That isn’t going to work. They’ll just find some other way of killing each other, that's the point. This isn’t a technological problem. It’s a psychological one.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Can we visit one of the planets close to the moment of catastrophe?” Argie called out.

  The voice responded, “No visiting is allowed once the simulation has passed its beginning year.”

  “I thought perhaps we could go down there and tell them to stay calm when they discover a new species,” Argie mumbled to herself.

  “No, that’s the clue. Both civilisations were set up as pacifists to point us in the right direction. It isn’t about how aggressive a species is. It’s something more complicated.”

  The Navigator tried a few more approaches, varying the evolutionary history of both species, turning them into hive minds, then animals with barely any sentience at all. He implanted huge genocides in their histories in an attempt to warn them off violence. A religion was even introduced to each planet, a sort of radical peace worship, threatening eternal damnation for any creature who initiated force against another. The result was the same in every iteration: total annihilation of one planet or the other.

  The Navigator began to swear with great creativity.

  Argie had been watching silently, floating in space, her limbs dangling in the vacuum. “Can we confine the electromagnetic spectrum to local spatial regions?” she said finally.

  “To within a radius of two light years, yes,” the woman said.

  “Fine, do that. Also ensure that gravity is purely attractive and generates no waves whatsoever.”

  “Actioned as requested.”

  Argie ran the simulation forward. Everything unfolded as before, the flourishing of both civilisations, great machines parking themselves in orbit, space elevators shooting up from the continents, the atmospheres eventually clearing themselves of all pollution as clean sources of energy were perfected. The simulation ran on into the half million, then million year mark. Finally the voice said, “Congratulations. The test was not completed in record time, but neither were you the slowest.”

  A transfer door appeared ahead of them. Argie went to pass through it. The Navigator put a hand on her shoulder. “Wait, what just happened?”

  “I was wrong, it wasn’t a psychological puzzle either. It was a logic problem.” The Navigator stared blankly. “It’s a first contact scenario, right? Two civilisations, both as passive as can be. Both totally uninterested in making weaponry, and with no history of genocide. Yet with enough time one inevitably destroys the other. What was the only constant in each simulation?”

  The Navigator cocked his head. “First contact.”

  “Right. In the last simulation we removed any possibility of contact, by radio or by gravity wave transmitter. In every other scenario, whatever we changed, the second they made first contact, one of the civilisations acted aggressively. Why would they do that?”

  The Navigator was silent.

  The woman’s voice came on them softly. “Galactic application of game theory. Both players cannot tell with certainty th
e military capability of the other, nor the intentions of the other. In all cases it is safer to initiate complete destruction of the other player from the moment a second intelligent civilisation is confirmed.”

  “That’s barbaric,” The Navigator groaned.

  “No, it isn’t,” Argie said. “It’s logic.”

  “Then how could two races ever communicate?”

  “They can’t. If they’re both smart enough they’ll keep their mouths shut.”

  “That's barbaric.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Argie said again. “It’s logic.”

  11.

  6/12/2021

  P,

  We went to the Black Sea coast while we were still courting, a town called Sozopol. It hadn't quite hit tourist season yet and the beach was pretty much ours. I spent the days walking around the town and stopping every few bars for a beer and you just sat on the beach and read paper after paper. One afternoon I came down to the beach just as evening was starting up. You were in one of your rare jolly moods and we found a quiet spot and you insisted on boning in the lifeguard tower. Then I asked you what it was you were working on, expecting some bullshit brush-off reply. Instead you just looked very serious (as much as was possible without your clothes) and said in a low voice: “Could everything be some other way?”

  “Mmmm, yes?” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Do you mean with you and I?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mean with universe stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  I said something dumb and romantic, I forget what, but you stopped talking after that and just looked out over the ocean. I have read all of your papers now, devoured all of your proofs. Your diaries too, I've gorged on them all, read your emails; I have rummaged through your mind via all the paper it left behind and now I understand the question you asked me on the beach. I think.

  “What really interests me,” Einstein said once, “is whether God had any choice in the creation of the world.” Einstein didn't believe in any kind of theistic god, probably – same as you. But let me see if I know where he was coming from.

  Could the universe have been built any other way; the strength of gravity adjusted, the speed of light slowed down or sped up, the strong and weak forces altered or removed entirely? Or, is there some fundamental reason why galaxies develop this way, in this fashion – why water is wet and time is linear? You believed that there is. I know this now. I wouldn't mind building a time machine and travelling back to that night on the beach, to that lifeguard tower. I would swap places with the simpleton holding you, step in instead. I know what I should've said: What if – I would have asked – all of mathematics is a coast, and beyond that coast is a kind of infinity? There is Geometry Bay where shape and form sit all day on the sand and build their castles from lines and coordinates. There is Algebra Cove where the sea washes all the way to the cliff and when it pulls back down again the cliff is covered in all the great axioms of nature that humans have ever discovered. But if you pass by these two tourist traps and ignore the rub of the straps of your sandals, you will come on another spot. It is not a remarkable attraction, it's not even a particularly large one. But it was the first. You may take off your shirt and lie down on the harsh dead sand of Logic Beach, the point from which everything else sprang. Ahead of you the sea rolls out into eternity, where matter is combined and recombined, and all the krill of natural law muddles into itself like cream added to coffee. But from here, from your little spot on Logic Beach, you may deduce everything from first principles. This is where everything started after all.