Sufficiently Advanced Technology (Inverse Shadows) (7 page)

Pre-singularity societies – which were often scarcity societies – had real problems coming to terms with the Confederation. Their established modes of thought had been built in an environment where there were laws and limits and cultures that didn’t quite make sense. They concentrated on amassing vast sums of money... and then suffered terrible shock when they discovered the Confederation could literally turn lead into gold. And that was a comparatively minor issue. The discovery that some humans existed inside AI cores, where they could devise their own realities to their heart’s content, or had merged into the giant MassMind... primitive societies had real problems coming to terms with it.

There were other issues, cultural ones. Most primitive worlds had marriage as a contract between two families, rather than between two people. It wasn’t uncommon to have one or both of the partners simply pushed into the match, and forced to wed if they were unwilling. There were strong economic reasons for that, none of which excused it in the eyes of the Confederation. And many primitive worlds treated various subsets of the population as second-class citizens, something that was equally inexcusable. Their first contact with the Confederation could be devastating to their worldview.

“It would be harder than that,” Jorlem said. “What would they make of the MassMind? Or the Changed? Or, for that matter, the AIs? You and I are relatively normal by their standards, but if they cut us open they’d discover all sorts of little improvements. And then they’d discover the Elders and perhaps even start worshipping them.”

He shook his head. “But our society is based on equality of opportunities, if not outcomes,” he added. “Everyone lucky enough to be born inside the Confederation has access to more wealth and opportunities than the average pre-singularity society can even dream of. But what will happen if we cannot splice the Darius DNA into our genetic code? What if only people who are descended from those born on Darius can use the ‘magic’?”

Elyria scowled. “You’re talking about another Kahn, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jorlem said. “And it could be worse for us...”

There were few criminals in the Confederation, simply because most of the old motives for crime no longer existed, but there were a handful of people who were simply born wrong, without the basic empathy that allowed them to operate normally within human society. Kahn had been one of those, a sociopath who had fled the Confederation fifty years after his birth and eventually landed on a primitive world, where his enhanced DNA had given him a staggering advantage over the locals. Two hundred years later, when the world had been rediscovered by the Confederation, his descendants formed a ruling class that was literally superhuman, compared to its subjects. Why not? They were stronger, smarter and healthier than the locals.

“The AIs are fantastically more intelligent than us,” Elyria said, finally. “We survived
their
development, didn’t we?”

“The AIs aren’t human,” Jorlem pointed out. “How would we react if one group of humans was incontestably superior to another group of humans – and we couldn’t uplift the second group?”

Elyria shook her head. “If they have somehow managed to develop the ability to... tune into the universe and change it, we can learn it too,” she said, firmly. “And if they have a unique trait in their genetic code, we can duplicate it and splice it into our own. I honestly can’t see how they can hope to remain unique for very much longer.”

“I can’t see how a QCC link can be disrupted either,” Jorlem said. “They’re meant to be impossible to detect, let alone jam – and yet we see the links regularly disrupted on Ancient worlds. And Darius, of course.” He grinned. “The best theory anyone has been able to come up with is that reality itself is screwed up on the Ancient worlds.”

His grin widened. “And if
that
is true,” he added, “what does it say about Darius?”

***

Elyria mulled over the question as the voyage wore on, before eventually coming to the conclusion that there just wasn’t enough information to allow her to answer it properly. If manipulating the quantum foam was a way to hack reality itself – and all of the Confederation’s research indicated that this was the case – it was quite possible that reality might be a little hazy near the Ancient worlds. Technology might fail because it relied upon the universe working in a certain way at all times, but the universe was different near the Ancient worlds. Which sounded insane, and impossible, apart from the minor detail that advanced technology
did
glitch for no apparent reason. The Ancient worlds concealed their secrets well.

“There is no way that they should have a breathable atmosphere,” Adam said, at an evening dinner. Elyria had started the tradition of inviting people to share regular meals, allowing them to socialise outside of actual work. It helped to break down barriers between the team members. “The worlds are dead. There’s nothing living at all, not even grass or anything else that might replenish the atmosphere. And yet we have no trouble living there without life support.”

He grinned as he took a bite out of an oversized chicken leg. Like most of the other Changed, he’d had to start shifting back to baseline human so he could go down to Darius, something that had left him with a huge appetite as his body made the adjustments. There was another difference between the Confederation and a pre-singularity society right there; primitives might worry about their appearance, but anyone born in the Confederation could change it at will. What did appearance matter if someone could make themselves as pretty – or ugly – as they chose?

“It gets even more surprising on Ancient-46,” he added, a moment later. “We’re not the only ones who have a research program there; the Puppies do as well. Thing is, their atmospheric requirements are different from ours; they find living on our worlds uncomfortable, to say the least. And we find their atmosphere...
stinky
. But they don’t have any problems on the Ancient worlds and neither do we.

“The general theory is that the Ancients somehow determined that their worlds would always be suitable for outsiders to visit, even if they had radically different atmospheric requirements. But how did they do that when we and the Puppies have different requirements? Or, for that matter, us and the Ghosts? There is no way a Ghost can share a human atmosphere, yet they have no trouble on Ancient worlds.”

Elyria shook her head in disbelief, wishing – for the first time – that she’d spent more time studying the Ancient worlds. “Like... they
programmed
them that way,” she said. “They just told the atmosphere to be breathable and it was breathable?”

“Even when two different races share the world,” Adam agreed. “As for
how
they did it, we don’t have a clue.”

It was impossible, Elyria knew. The Confederation
had
pushed baseline humanity to the point where an unsuitable atmosphere wouldn’t poison them, but there was no way that it could allow two radically different races to share the same atmosphere. They
could
give them life support fields to wear, something that would ensure the local atmosphere was reprocessed into something breathable, yet the Ancients seemed to have done the impossible and made their worlds habitable for everyone.

“The word impossible is simply a reflection of the unknown,” Jorlem said, into the silence. He hadn’t said much about the Prometheus Project to the others, although he hadn’t asked Elyria to remain silent about it. “How much of what we do would be impossible to a pre-singularity society?”

That started another debate. Elyria listened with some interest, paying close attention to the attempts to compare various different societies with computer simulations, or altered realities created within AI cores. Quite a few humans had uploaded themselves and then taken refuge in fantasy universes created by the Confederation’s designers, some operating according to laws that bore no resemblance to reality. Many of the Uploaded had slipped so far into their private worlds that they no longer remembered the Confederation outside. It would have been easy to believe that someone had designed a world like Darius for a game, if it hadn’t been real. But then, the pre-singularity societies they were discussing would have considered the Confederation no less extraordinary.

She looked over at the embodied AI and saw him listening with equal interest, one hand tapping away at a portable terminal. Quite why he wasn’t allowed a neural link was beyond her, but it hardly mattered. He had already proved himself when it came to analysing the vast amount of data gathered by the first survey ship, and – more importantly – highlighting sensor records that might have been disrupted by glitches. In the end, they’d reluctantly concluded that they’d have to wait until they reached Darius and then start gathering information. It was probable that more primitive technology would help them to stay in contact with
Hamilton
.

The party finally started to break up several hours later, the various team members going to bed or heading back to their research labs. A couple seemed to have formed attachments already, which wasn’t a major surprise; others were simply too dedicated to their research to try to form any relationships, either with their fellow team members or the starship’s crew. Elyria had no time herself; besides, she
was
meant to be the team leader. She should be setting an example of dedication to the mission.

She walked through the starship’s interior until she reached the observation chamber, where she could almost imagine that she was standing on the hull, utterly unprotected from the raging storms of hyperspace. Outside, she could see flickers of energy dancing through the higher dimension, each one vastly more powerful than a supernova in normal space. Learning to navigate hyperspace had taken centuries, ever since the human race had realised that there was an FTL method quicker than warp drive, but it had been worthwhile. The Confederation’s starships could now cross the entire galaxy in a matter of months. Other ships, she knew, had already set out for nearby galaxies. They would reach M33 in a few decades, whereupon they would start building up a new Confederation. Human wanderlust drove them onwards...

No one had yet figured out which colony ship had founded Darius, if indeed there
had
been a colony ship. It wasn’t unknown for a society that wanted to return to pre-technological times to destroy the colony ship, simply by dispatching it into the local star. Later, they might discover their mistake in abandoning technology, but by then it was too late. Quite a few of the most primitive worlds the Confederation had rediscovered had been founded by people who wanted to get away from technology, only to discover that their planned societies were unsustainable without it. Many of them had died knowing that they’d failed.

Despite her worries, Elyria found herself smiling. This
was
original science, something that might push the boundaries of human knowledge further out. And if it
did
lead to transcendence... who knew where else it could lead? The Confederation had certainly developed in some very strange ways since it had passed through the singularity.

One week left
, she told herself. They’d made excellent time through hyperspace.
One week until we reach Darius
.

She just couldn’t wait to begin.

CHAPTER
S
IX

Darius was a very odd world, in a very odd star system.

Dacron sat in one of the monitoring stations, studying the live feed from the probes
Hamilton
had launched as soon as she came out of hyperspace twenty light hours from Darius. At least there was
one
AI trait that had crossed over to his human body; he could multitask far better than any mundane human. The probes were sending back enough data to overwhelm a human, but Dacron and the RIs had no trouble putting it into a coherent whole.

Making sense of it was another issue altogether. Dacron had wondered, despite the assurances he’d received from the AIs, if the first survey ship had made a whole string of mistakes, or suffered more sensor glitches than they’d realised. But one glance at the probes scanning the system and he realised that they had understated the weirdness surrounding Darius. A sphere, centred on the star, of roughly two light months in diameter had been completely swept of space dust. Apart from the comet, and the planet itself, there was literally
nothing
within that region of space. Dacron found himself unable to come up with any theory that might have explained it, apart from alien intervention. But why would the aliens bother?

The Confederation had occasionally taken steps to safeguard a primitive alien world from random asteroid impacts that would have destroyed the fragile societies – or ecosystems. It didn’t exactly count as interfering, or so the humans claimed, although the supposed logic of the situation often defeated Dacron’s comprehension. But then, the primitive society would have no awareness of how close they’d come to being destroyed before the Confederation intervened. They would never compose legends about how the sky-gods had shown them mercy in their darkest hour.

Throughout history, mankind had been tempted by the stars – and the planets that orbited Sol, near Earth. Eventually, they had all been settled – and then the human race had gone further afield. But anyone growing up on Darius wouldn’t know that there were other planets orbiting other stars, at least unless they managed to make telescopes powerful enough to pick them out – and even if they did, bootstrapping themselves into space would be incredibly difficult. The simplest solution to the mystery was to assume that whoever had created Darius, and transported a number of humans to the planet, had deliberately intended to ensure that they couldn’t leave. Assuming they
had
been taken during the First Expansion Era, it was quite likely that the aliens would have concluded that humanity would destroy itself. Without the First Interstellar War, it was possible that they would have been right.

The single comet received hundreds of probes, which scanned the entire object several times and concluded that it was a fairly typical comet, a ball of ice comparable to the millions of others that had been recorded all over the galaxy. Captain Thor was unconvinced and ordered a survey team to land on it and take core samples, as well as running through hundreds of tests to detect the presence of alien technology. Dacron suspected that they would find nothing – there were no hints that any of the probes had suffered glitches – but it was the Captain’s prerogative. Besides, he approved of caution. There was no reason to hurry.