Muezzinland (30 page)
There was no sign of life, either real or divine.
"I suppose we'd better make a run up to those pillars," Nshalla whispered.
Gmoulaye nodded, then bent to make a final prayer to Al-Uzza. Nshalla likewise sent a few thoughts to Ataa Naa Nyongmo.
They stepped between the pine trees and jogged towards the pillars.
A figure in white stepped from behind the remains of a tree.
"
Halt!
"
The Empress.
She stood about twenty metres behind them. At a similar distance ahead the two pillars stood.
Nshalla stopped. After a hesitation she said, "What do you want?"
The Empress seemed to be unarmed, dejected even, a state Nshalla had never before witnessed. She answered, "I had to stop you going in. I knew you would follow Mnada."
"She's gone into Muezzinland?"
"Yes. You cannot follow."
"I will be the judge of that," said Nshalla in her most arrogant tones, for the crestfallen appearance of her mother gave her a feeling of psychic freedom.
"You are no judge. Muezzinland is my creation. It was designed to hold the gods. You are human and so have no place inside. It would kill you."
Nshalla simply did not trust her mother. "You're lying. You've lied to me and Mnada all our lives. Leave us alone."
The Empress shook her head. "No, Nshalla, even you must turn back here. You've led me a crooked chase, but here it is over. You see before you the most advanced technological creation of the age. It really would kill you—"
"What about Mnada?" Nshalla interrupted, hoping to catch out her mother. "
She's
human, isn't she?"
It worked!
The Empress looked away, disconcerted, obviously thinking of something to save the situation. She replied, "Mnada is human, yes—"
"You're lying, mother, I
know
you are. Your agent Msavitar told me everything. Mnada had biochips put in her brain when she was born."
"You can't go in!" cried the Empress. "It will kill you."
Nshalla sneered, so strong was her new feeling of control. "I'm going in right now, with Gmoulaye at my side. You can't stop me."
"I will direct the gods to stop you. Now that every single one is inside Muezzinland it will be a simple matter."
Nshalla hesitated, unsure how to interpret this. Muezzinland she knew to be a tool of control. But again she detected a lie. "I don't believe anything you say," she told her mother. "This is a waste of time."
The Empress replied, "Then perhaps this will convince you otherwise."
Her father walked from behind the tree.
Nshalla was momentarily overcome, but Gmoulaye stood by her side, gripped her wrist and said, "It is an aether spirit, nothing more." She brought out one of her amulets to ward against the apparition.
"Your father never died," said the Empress.
"But…"
The Empress turned to him. "Tell her."
Ruari Ó Bráonain said, "A plan had to be made to fool certain people into thinking the Empress sat alone upon the throne. I went along with it, seeing how important it was."
"Important?"
"The Empress was not at that time a member of the Aetherium. Any perceived distraction in her daily affairs could have prejudiced her chances—"
"Lies, lies!" cried Nshalla. "Daddy's in a forest where you'll never find him!" She turned to Gmoulaye, and said, "Run now."
They ran.
The Empress screamed.
As Nshalla dived through the aetherial portal heat bathed her, and yet her mind seemed cooled. Her senses relayed chaos; blurs, reverberated sounds, a horrible taste in her mouth.
She was inside Muezzinland.
Aphrica 28-05-2130
Catastrophe.
The Empress' plans had come to nothing. After decades of toil her own daughter had ruined everything. Now, in Fes, all was lost, and Mnada the Empress of Ghana was left with nothing more than dead hopes and a plane low on fuel.
She hobbled back into the habitable quarters of Fes. Since nobody recognised her, she was ignored. Branching off an alley she noticed a complex of grassy public yards, dung-strewn passages, and miniature squares in which stall-holders were beginning to set their wares. At one such she followed the chalked pictsym on a menu board, then said, "I'll have a cous-cous with spicy tomato and almonds, with sour cream and onions on the side. And a can of PocariSweat."
She took her steaming meal to the nearest yard, a square ten metres on a side with imposing buildings all around, and sat on a bench concealed under a weeping cedar, where she shook on the complimentary brown dope granules and devoured her food.
When all was eaten, she saw that again she was left with nothing.
The day passed and she remained sat on the bench, people wandering around her, occasionally glancing aside in curiosity, more often unaware that she was there. The sun set. Cylinders of Islamic neon began to shine against the evening sky, and the wail of muezzins was audible.
The Empress stood. She still ruled a country. Her position on the Aetherium was probably less secure.
So she departed Fes and returned to her plane, where she boarded and flew to the nearest aerodrome. There, she refuelled.
She flew south.
At her private palace landing strip the plane touched down. She took off her crash helmet and disembarked.
A unit of soldiers ran towards her, at their head a captain whose name she forgot. He seemed in a hurry.
"What is it?" she shouted, as the soldiers closed. For a moment she imagined trouble… but no, she was in command here. She relaxed.
The soldiers surrounded her.
"What's going on?" she asked the captain.
"You are under arrest."
~
Inside the palace, all was quiet. She was led into the main audience chamber, where, to her shock and disbelief, she saw a fat woman sitting on her own throne.
"What is going on?" she asked.
Jode Benadjoud, the technician, stood up. "There has been a coup d'etat."
"A coup? In my country?"
Jode Benadjoud smiled. "You will remember, former Empress of Ghana, that you offered me the chance of promotion when you returned home, as payment for my adequate work. I decided my new position should be leader of Ghana."
The Empress took a step forward, but the soldiers' rifles twitched, so she stopped. "You can't. This is my country. A coup is impossible. I rule here, I am this country."
Jode Benadjoud indicated to the soldiers that they should leave. Alone in the echoing chamber, she sat again, and seemed to relax. Expecting trouble—probably a gun from those voluminous silks—the Empress stayed put and awaited an explanation.
"You see, my dear," Jode continued, "I simply decided I wanted your country… and other things you owned. Temptation got the better of me."
"But you are just a jumped-up technological servant," said the Empress, with a nervous laugh. "I am of royal blood. How long have you been here? Don't you understand the people of Ghana will never accept you?"
"Oh, but they have already."
"Impossible. Ghana is a royal state. It is inviolate. Without me, it is nothing."
"There have been political events of which you are unaware," said Jode.
"What events?"
"Can't you guess?"
The Empress frowned. "No."
"My dear, don't you recognise me?"
The Empress was confused. Nothing made sense here. "Get to the point, woman. What political events do you mean? Are they to do with the local Aetheria?"
"So you don't recognise me, then?"
"You are Jode What-Is-Her-Name. I can't remember exactly."
Jode Benadjoud removed her face, and there sat the Queen of Nouveau-Nigeria.
"I recently annexed your country," she explained.
North Aphrica 29-05-2130
The two archaeologists, Hassan and Kpeqez, were of Western origin, but the blood of Aphricans flowed in their veins. They had explored certain caves in the western foothills of the Moyen Atlas Mountains but now were returning to Fes, where both lectured at the University.
On the way they happened across a cave, which, for no reason other than curiosity, they explored, thereby finding one of the wonders of the age. In the cave lay the mummified body of a creature so shrunken it seemed to date back to the Genetic Revolution of the early twenty first century. (Later, in the labs, they found it was nowhere near so old, less than a year in fact, making it something of an enigma.) They photographed it and sent the images back to their University web-caches through a local eye.
The actual body was perhaps a metre and a half long, though, with the foam-metal bones stretched out, the creature's height became well over two metres. It seemed to have been laid to rest by others of its techno-clan, since it was surrounded by the remains of what appeared to be plants and artificial ritual items. Hassan collected peripheral specimens and popped them into plastic bags, while Kpeqez took brain and organ samples.
"What do you think?" Hassan asked Kpeqez.
"I think it's a miracle! So well preserved. What stories this creature would tell if he were alive today."
~
Khadir sits down and begins to pluck off the wisps of plastic on his calves, wincing at the pain, breathing deep before trying again, until every last ribbon is torn off and blood covers his legs. He feels behind himself to pull away growths on his back. Then he pulls down his wings and plucks off each ribbon. As his task comes to an end his movements become slower, until, when only a handful of ribbons remain, his muscles are unable to lift the weight of his arms. He collapses. His breathing becomes shallow.
He dies from asphyxia caused by paralysis of the chest.
The green wisps turn olive, then yellow, then brown, shrivelling until they are a fraction of their original size. Juices flow out of them, before evaporating, leaving dark stains like glue on the floor. Khadir's body also turns brown, shrinking as if by a process of mummification, until his neoprene skin is stretched so tight over his bones it splits of its own accord, curling up, then dropping off. So it is that the body of Khadir lies undisturbed in a cave and becomes surrounded by botanic fragments, like those corpses laid to rest by the first members of homo sapiens.
Interlude Three
Twenty One Years Ago…
The flight to Fes needed to be made in complete secrecy, so a special paraglider was constructed in Accra. Because the aether had reduced, and eventually negated all electromagnetic transmissions in the civilised world, sight and hearing, the traditional aides of the sentry, had returned to the fore in the world of sensing. The paraglider therefore had to be perfectly black, thermoneutral and silent as an owl.
The main difficulty was the stone circle around the city. In fact, the seventy sentinels were not stone but bioplas hardened over three years by genetically engineered microbes. In their upper turrets lay optical and audio sensors of the highest quality, built by nomadic tribesrobots from pastures just below the Atlas snow-line, to a standard defined by colonists from a now defunct oriental AI-state. The stone circle was the eyes and ears of Fes.
On a hill outside Sefrou at the northern edge of the Moyen Atlas a transport plane carrying the Empress and I-C-U Tompieme landed, to disgorge its two passengers and the crate they took such great care over. Then it flew off.
Arrangements had been made. In its crate, the paraglider was driven to the highest point on the hill and there unfurled. The Empress and I-C-U Tompieme pulled on their matte thermoneutral jumpsuits and helmets, strapped themselves into the lower harnesses, then ordered the paraglider to make north, towards Fes.
So they flew through the night.
"You were going to explain Muezzinland to me," I-C-U Tompieme prompted.
"Yes, I was. You of course must know the truth."
"Will it be dangerous?"
"All modern technology is dangerous because it is unknowable," said the Empress. "Long gone are the days when people or corporate bodies designed machines and computers." She studied the brown gem on her index finger, then said, "No human alive today could understand the intricate complexity of a typical twenty second century finger transputer. We must trust to our understanding of cybernetic theory and hope technology does not become antagonistic."
"Do you trust cybernetic theory when it comes to Muezzinland?"
"Yes. I think so. I believe the gods can be directed, although I suppose there will always remain a tiny element of doubt in this particular case."
"Why is that?" I-C-U Tompieme asked.
"Muezzinland will be unique in the world. You are aware of the relationship between the human mind and body, or of artificial intelligence and its hardware. The complexity of the aether, self-organising and in some regions autonomous, means that a new electromagnetic form is appearing, a form in which the virtual people will take centre stage. You can imagine it as a new variety of mind. But a mind cannot appear without a body. Mind is the expression of body—the two are really one. Muezzinland is to be the body, the brain if you like, of this new electromagnetic form. And we can nurture and train the form by creating a brain."
"But does not Princess Mnada carry the control hardware?"
"Mnada carries the directorial hardware," the Empress confirmed. "That hardware is, as it were, the cerebral cortex of Muezzinland. The main hardware, what you might call the cerebellum, the limbic system, and so forth, is what we are about to create in Fes."
"And why must a human skull hold this directing hardware?"
"The directorial part must have a connection with consciousness. An AI is simply not enough. Were I to use even the most complex transputer in the world, the crucial element of comprehending the existence of others would be missing. Muezzinland is above all else a method of directing other entities." The Empress paused, then added, "Besides, I have plans for Mnada. She and I are
so
alike."
I-C-U Tompieme nodded. "What then will be the nature of Muezzinland?"
"It will support an artificial aether without actually being within earthed walls. Imagine a potential well existing in an electromagnetic ocean, or a black hole in space-time. This artificial aether will have the effect of amplifying psychic qualities."
"Hence its ability to direct the gods."
"Exactly," said the Empress with a grin. "When they appear, the gods will represent vast hierarchies of software, more complex than anything extant today. To direct those hierarchies will be to direct the civilised world, and such is our destiny. When a god enters Muezzinland, its natural abilities will find solace and pleasure in the region, since Muezzinland will amplify and mirror what the god can do and what it can feel."
"Could Muezzinland's aether ever become conscious?"
"No, since there will only ever be one. But that is not to say it cannot be intelligent and autonomous. The aether will become like an autistic savant. My task tonight is to create the basic brain that will support such an entity, and I must create it in such a way that control is ours."
I-C-U Tompieme nodded. "One other thing occurs to me. Suppose an ordinary human was to enter Muezzinland?"
"They would die. But I will guard against such an event by siting Muezzinland within the land I own in the grounds of Fes University. There, I can do what I please, since the land is private."
"A human being would die, then?"
"Oh, yes," said the Empress. "Imagine what would happen. The gods created by the virtual people will be immense. They will certainly understand that they are divine, and will consequently be able to cope with Muezzinland. If a human went into Muezzinland, their psyche, their abilities and feelings, would be amplified and returned to them on a grotesque scale. No individual could survive that. Insanity would follow, and then a particularly lingering and unpleasant death."
"You must guard it well."
"I will. The problem is not knowing exactly how Muezzinland will manifest, since the technology involved is so far beyond our comprehension. In that particular we must trust to the predictions made by cybernetic theory."
After a pause, I-C-U Tompieme said, "And you do?"
"I do."
The Empress downloaded the predictions into her ring and projected them for I-C-U Tompieme to read.
MUEZZINLAND
T-WAVE-13/6-GHA-AFR-7/49 PROTO-VERSION 2.7.1
BETA VERSION
1. Size: about 1 km. square. Height approx. ?260m. plus or minus ?10m.
2. Density: nx normal (n=1-9). Internal optical illusions therefore likely.
3. Substance: naturally occuring waste bioplas, bioplas attracted from local sources, nano machines, artificial bacteria, flexi metal, ceramic glass and superconducting ceramics, conducting polymers.
4. Stability: very stable.
5. Appearance: ?Not transputable.
I-C-U Tompieme nodded, and the predictions vanished from the air. "Soon we will know how accurate all this is," he remarked.
~
Three days had passed since Princess Mnada's fifth birthday. The Empress had taken her heir to a private room, a tiny chamber decorated with coloured silks, designed for quiet talk. The artificial aether in her playroom had just been switched off.
"So, child," said the Empress, sitting Mnada on her knee. "How are you today?"
"Very well, mother."
"You are a dutiful daughter. So like me."
Mnada gazed up into her mother's eyes.
Now the crucial question. "Do your thoughts feel different today?"
"Sort of," Mnada replied. "There's something I want, something I can't quite remember. I expect it was because I drank lots of cherryade at my birthday party."
"I expect it was that," agreed the Empress.
"But there's something odd."
"What?"
Mnada screwed up her face to show the Empress she was thinking hard. Then she said, "I want to go there—to this thing I want."
"You can't. But don't worry. One day, I will bring that something to you."
"Thank you."
The Empress patted that priceless head. "Good girl."