Big Papa: White Hole Radical (Part XII)

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I keep watching after we think it’s all over. Pryce has finally been neutralized, and it looks like everything’s gonna be okay. But of course there’s still one loose end. With everyone still distracted for a moment, staring at the spot where Tamerlane Pryce once was, Pinocchio takes his shot. He pulls out his own zero blade, and pierces Genifer right in the heart. “I want that button.”

Lowell lunges forward to help, but Genifer holds out her staff, and stops him. “No.” She smiles at Pinocchio, confusing him. Then she turns her staff, and pounds it on the floor three times, very deliberately. The paint melts off of it like ice on a summer snowman. It’s turned white.

Pinocchio looks over at it, unimpressed. “The White Staff can’t save you now. It’s too late.”

“It’s too late for you too, whoever you are,” Genifer replies as the blackness quickly overwhelms her clothes. She lifts the staff, and gently—almost affectionately—taps him on the nose with it. “Boop!”

They both disappear at the same time, him in a flash of white, her in a puff of smoke. Behind me in the real world, a floor model gasps, and begins to breathe heavily. Pinocchio rolls out of the pod, and squirms on the floor. He’s never been alive before, so he’s quite harmless for the time being. Back in the simulation, the white staff has remained standing, even though its bearer is now dead and gone. As if finally remembering simulated gravity, it begins to tip over, but Dalton catches it gracefully.

“We need to figure out what to do with that,” Gilbert notes. “It’s up to Ellie to decide who gets resurrected, and when.”

“Yeah,” Dalton says, nodding his head. But he doesn’t hand the staff over, and there’s something weird about his answer. He’s just looking at it like there’s writing on it, and he’s in the middle of a good story. Then he bolts. He runs as fast as he can, down the hallways, and back up the steps. Lowell and Gilbert aren’t sure whether they should chase after him, or what. As far as leveling weapons go, it’s dangerous to be in the wrong hands, but at least no one will get hurt by it. I understand why someone would want to maintain control over it, and though I don’t know why Dalton is one of these people, it’s not the worst of our problems. As he’s climbing out of the fountain entrance, still moving as fast as he can, I can see another version of Pryce gliding down in the opposite direction. It’s probably Avatar!Pryce, having recovered from his indentured servitude. The zeroblade should destroy any copies of the same code, unless the copy is sufficiently divergent.

“Is that the guy who took over my body at the wedding?” Lowell wonders out loud.

I point at the resurrected Pinocchio, but before I say anything, I realize my mistake. He’s not been resurrected at all, but this is his first day as a real boy. It’s more like he was just born, and I guess in this case, there is such a thing as original sin. “Call security, and have him taken to MedHock,” I order the lab tech. “But first, put me back in. Same coordinates as Lowell.”

“You should know,” the tech says, “Madam Preston was keeping Mr. Benton apprised of her situation with the Glisnian authority. She has not been doing well. She fears a complete shutdown.”

“If she calls again...” I say, “tell her to stall.” One crisis at a time, please.

I return to the simulation just as Avatar!Pryce is arriving. He approaches cautiously, and with no sense of aggression. “I felt her death. I felt the loss.”

“Is there any way back?” I ask. “Is the zeroblade a lie? Are they just dormant, and recoverable?”

“It’s not a lie,” Pryce answers, possibly truthfully. “Her death is final. The blade destroys the code, like overwriting a file.”

“I’m not gonna let you push the button,” I warn him.

“I do not aim to,” he claims. “You’ll push it, though, I guarantee it.”

“Why would I do that?” I question.

Pryce looks at his wristwatch. “It’s 2400. This year marks beginning, and ending. It’s a transitional period. The patrioshka body will return to its place in the stellar neighborhood, the truth about temporal manipulation will come out to the public, and the simulation...will shut down.”

“Not if I can help it,” I maintain. “I won’t let these people die.”

Pryce chuckles with his lips sealed. “Of course you won’t. Why do you think I stepped down? It has to be you. You’re the only one capable.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He’s not making any sense to me.

“When you took over for me, did you happen to notice our official position? What was my title, and what’s yours, now that you wear the rainbow clothes?”

“Yeah, it said Kernel. I thought it was a misspelling of Colonel. I don’t use it, because it’s stupid. I’m just Ellie.”

“No, my dear,” Pryce begins, “it’s not stupid. It’s everything. You are Kernel Underhill, and you deserve it. Now go in that room, and push the button...so we can all get out of here. Time’s running out, I’m sure.” Without another word, he turns confidently, and tries to walk away.

“No,” I say with my own confidence. “You want me to push the button, you’re gonna go in there with me, and explain in excruciating detail, exactly what it does.”

“As you wish.”

“Lowell, keep that ice pick at the ready. If he tries anything...”

“Got it, boss,” Lowell agrees.

I place my hand against the stone door, just to try to figure out where the handle is, or how it works. It gives to my pressure immediately, swiveling on an axis in the center, and allowing us to pass through. Up until this point, the stone walls and ceilings were smooth and even. Pryce designed this chamber to look more like it existed naturally, and everything else was built around it. We’re inside of a mountain cave, with jagged edges, and random stalagmites. A highly detailed pavilion is in the center, and in the center of that is a well-carved stone structure. Sitting on it is a wok, filled with fire pit marbles. Water bubbles from underneath, and spills out on all sides. The fire burns high, partially obscuring a small obelisk that does not rise high enough to be touched without feeling the flames. A button rests on top, ready to be pressed.

“For the very last time...what. Does. It. Do?” I demand to know.

“You are the kernel, and it is a syscall. Part of your code will be copied a hundred and twenty-billion times, and placed inside the IDCodes of everyone inside the simulation, including the Level Ones. Yes, it can put everyone on ice, but only if the one who pushes it has just been downgraded to that level themselves. As long as you stand within the borders of that pavilion, you can decide what level you are, and what code will be copied. That is, as long as you don’t choose a level beyond your own real one. Mr. Hawk, for instance, was only a Limited, so if he pushed the button, that would be as far as he could take it. For you, it’s different. Once that code is disseminated, you and everyone else will change into whatever it is the code you’ve allocated does. You could put them all in Hock, or make them all Elites; whatever you wish. But be careful, because you will suffer the same fate.”

“Why are you asking me to do it?” I question. “Why have you not done it yourself?”

“I do not have an IDCode,” Pryce admits. “My other self does not either. Neither of us ever died, and came here. He was always a visitor, and I...I’m just an NPC. You have been resurrected, so you can resurrect them all.”

“So can Lowell,” I point out. “So can Leona, and Mateo, and a couple dozen others in Hogarth’s new universe.”

“Yes, but Mateo and Leona aren’t here, Lowell has always been bad code, and Hogarth’s World-Builders are ambitious, entitled, narcissists who believe they have become the gods they always thought they were.” He’s one to talk.

“Aldona does not fit that description,” I counter.

“True. Like Harry and Neville, I suppose there is indeed one other option. But you’re the only one who’s truly earned it. You’re the one who demanded control over the simulation, and you are the one standing here today.” Pryce has a response to everything. “We could call Madam Calligaris, if you want, but she may not arrive in time, seeing as that the Glisnians are this close to shutting the whole simulation down with all of us still inside.”

“Wait, Gilbert’s here too.” I just resurrected him recently.

“Oh, no,” Gilbert protests. “Don’t nominate me for this role. If anyone’s bad code, it’s me. You know the things I did while I was alive?”

“Ellie,” Lowell says. “Stop coming up with alternatives. It’s all you.”

“Where, do you reckon’ you want I should put all these people?” Now I’m sure I have them stumped. “There are some floor models waiting for hosts up there, sure, but not a hundred and twenty billion, I’ll tell ya that much right now.

“I had that problem solved a long time ago,” Pryce claims. “There are about ten million up there, and it takes about an hour to replace them, as long as the protein goop keeps coming. There’s also enough temporary storage to keep them dormant while they wait their turn. It’ll be done in two years. I own those servers, the Glisnians wouldn’t be able to shut them down without sparking a war.”

“Which they would win,” Lowell argues.

I’m shaking my head. It’s a trick. There is no altruistic or benevolent version of Pryce. There are only some that aren’t as bad as others. I don’t know why he wants me to be the one to do this instead of him, but I can’t let him play any part in it. Something he said reminded me of something else. He used the term protein goop. The cloning machines aren’t only limited by the amount of time it takes to create a new floor model body. They need the raw materials to actually make the damn thing. Star Trek replicators aren’t a real thing, and they never will be. Well, unless you use time powers. Fortunately, I know someone who might be able to help, and now I’m starting to think that she saw this coming; that she knew what was going to happen all along. I can transfer the minds, but I need her to build the bodies. Can I contact her from here? Can I access a separate brane? I take some time to try, and find that I can. The conversation isn’t long. She agrees to help.

“What are you thinking?” Pryce asks, noticing that I’ve been silent and stuck in my own head for quite awhile now.

“That you are unworthy...and unnecessary.” I step right over to him, and place my hands on his head. He’s too confused to struggle. In a matter of seconds, the avatar has been de-rezed. I’m not sure where he went, or if I just murdered him, but there’s always a backup somewhere, so I’m not too butthurt about my choice.

“What are you doing?” Gilbert asks, purely out of curiosity, and not at all bothered by my actions.

“We don’t need him anymore. I’m ending this, once and for all. I can’t promise things will be good once we’re on the other side, but I don’t think we have much time. I asked Nerakali to stall—”

“Oh, thank God,” Nerakali’s voice comes into my ear. I’m starting to realize that people can contact me across distance as long as I’m thinking about them at the same time. “You have ten minutes. The Glisnians work fast, and they’re done with this whole thing. They think Pryce has become too big of a nuisance.”

“Thanks for the update,” I reply to her. “I don’t think I’ll need that long.”

“What are you doing?” she asks, unknowingly echoing Gilbert.

“Now I am become life, the sower of men.” I step up onto the pavilion, and approach the pedestal. I don’t want to give these people any snippet of my core code. I don’t want them to be able to spy on each other through time, or spontaneously and nonconsenually transfer each other’s minds to other substrates. I don’t need a button to resurrect any of them. I just need access to all of them. This thing grants me that power, but I already have the power to save them. Almost angrily, I swing back, and swipe the wok off of the platform. I’m left with a fountain, bubbling up from the ground, connected to every consciousness inside the simulation. Hogarth is ready on her end, so I reach into the fountain water. It’s freezing cold, but still somehow pleasant and life-affirming.

I can feel them immediately. I can feel their hopes and their pain. I see images of what they’re doing right now, all combined to form a mosaic of the entirety of the afterlife simulation multiworlds. I know what they’re thinking, and what they’ve done, and what they’ve seen. I know who they are, and who they want to be. “Hear me now, people of the afterlife,” I say to them all. “The experiment is over, and it is time to see The Beyond. It is time to live once more.” They’re all here because they crave life, experience, triumph, risk. The few who wanted to die and find a true afterlife—if such a thing exists—have moved on by now. Everyone wants to be alive, and I can give them that. It won’t be through floor model substrates, though. They won’t wake up in a cold clone pod with straight edges, and a tube coming out of their navel. The first thing they see won’t be the harsh lighting on a white ceiling. The first thing they see will be a beautiful and relaxing violet sky. I’m sending them to Violkomin, where a protein-infused lake of primordial soup will construct new bodies for them in accelerated time. Here they will float, until they are ready to walk the lands, and begin a new journey. They will breathe again. They will live again. And they will do it in a new universe.

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Microstory 1625: Fort Underhill

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I think it’s a pretty fitting time for me to discuss this next brane. As you’ve probably noticed, if a universe manages to distinguish itself from others enough to earn a name, it always ends in verse. Flipverse, Hypnopediaverse, and Salmonverse are good examples that I’ve already mentioned. Most of them form one word titles, but there are exceptions, like the Composite Universe, Universe Prime, and Area Doubleuniverse, which is quite obviously a pun. Still, they’re all verses. This one is the one exception to the rule. It’s an artificial brane, though its no less an independent brane than any other one. It’s twinned to Salmonverse, which protects it from external threats, and there’s only one entrance that I know of. The membrane surrounding it is 50,000 times thicker than most, done completely on purpose, which is why it’s impossible to cross into, except in the one special place. Its creator is a very powerful woman named Hogarth Pudeyonavic. She has her own story to tell, but it all came to a momentous transition when she discovered that she had a connection to the energy that pervades the bulkverse. No, I’m not talking about bulk energy, per se. This is more like the data delivery aspect of it; the waves that carry information in all directions. They call it the Aitchai, and Hogarth was chosen to wield it pretty much as she wished. It allows her to transmit matter from any location in the bulk, to anywhere else, at the subatomic level, if need be. She used this power to create mechacelestial objects, like the matrioshka body, and Big Papa, but once those were complete, she set her sights on something larger...more glorious. She wanted to build an entire universe, according to her specifications. These specifications are her creation’s proper physics, which refers to the physical laws specific to a given brane, as opposed to the ones that are true of all branes. What she didn’t have after completing her creation was a population. No one lived there, and if it remained as such, there would be no point to it. That is where another powerful woman named Ellie Underhill comes into the story. It was her own abilities that transferred tens of billions of people, allowing them to start new lives, and thrive in them. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more about it than that. I witnessed its beginnings, but cannot see things that are happening inside the universe itself, because that’s the whole point. The thickness of the membrane doesn’t just keep invaders out physically, but also psychically, and spiritually. I can tell you that it works, and that it becomes a key sanctuary and strategic position in the Darning Wars.

Microstory 1624: Would You Rather

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Here’s another one that’s both bizarre, and involves multiple realities. You’ve probably heard of would you rather games. These can range from innocuous questions for children, to really raunchy, unsavory, or sadistic. Would you rather be blind, or deaf? Would you rather only be able to breathe from the bottom of your feet, or only ever smell smelly feet? They can be fun, they can be embarrassing, and they can be impossible to answer without looking bad. But one thing they’re not is consequential...unless you live in Hypothetiverse. In that world, every answer you give comes true. It happens to someone. It happens to an alternate version of you, one whose only real purpose in life is to suffer whatever circumstances you’ve forced upon them. Not all hypothetical questions lead to this. You have to ask it in this very specific way, but if you do, it will happen every time, and each time it happens, reality as a whole becomes more complicated. It almost feels like there’s some kind of intelligent design to all this, and not because of the inextricable connection between the main reality, and all of these offshoots. It’s also that the bare minimum number of realities exist to accommodate these realized hypotheticals. Some questions contradict each other—like if you were asked whether you would want to go without the internet, or without TV, for the rest of your life, and another one later that asks whether you would rather only be able to visit porn sites, or advanced scientific databases, for the rest of your life. Those two versions of you will live in their own respective realities, because they would not be able to coexist. But beyond that, all the hypothetical alternates live in the same reality. That is, as long as they don’t contradict each other, they’re together, so it’s not like there is one reality for every single would you rather hypothetical. Here’s where things get interesting, though. Each of these alternate realities has to be inhabited by a full population, and not everyone has answered one of these questions ever in their life. So their alternate is just walking around, trying to lead a normal life, amongst a neighbor who can only walk on their hands, and a co-worker who has to eat everything with a butter knife. They don’t know they’re in a realized hypothetical reality, so they can’t explain this odd behavior, and if they were to ask one of them about it, that person is also unaware of what they are, so they would just think it was normal, and not be able to articulate their reasoning. “Well, I don’t understand the question, I can only drive on Sundays. How would it be possible for me to ever drive on any other day of the week? You’re not making any sense.” I won’t get into specifics, but this universe doesn’t have anything to do with the Darning Wars, because these realities eventually collide after too many would you rather questions are asked, and things get ever crazier from there on out.

Microstory 1623: Death in a Vacuum

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Vacuumverse, as I think I’ll call it, is another really weird one. It started out as a normal version of Earth. History came with hardships, war, death, beauty, advancement; everything you would expect. The world ended rather abruptly, and though humanity lived past the planet’s destruction, it too came to an end. In space, there is no up, or down. Because of gravity, it’s more like in and out. You’re either letting it hold you against the nearest sufficiently massive celestial object, or you’re trying to resist this gravitational pull. Most of the time, this works just fine, and it’s totally predictable. By measuring an object’s mass and density, you can figure out how strong of an attraction it will have on some other object. The math is hard to reach, but easy to fathom. In this case, the sun orbits the center of the galaxy, while all its orbitals revolve around it. Every inhabited universe operates in this way. Some others have alternate fundamental constants, but we’re not worried about this, because they don’t support life very well. Something changed in Vacuumverse. Maybe it was a black hole, maybe it was artificial, I don’t know. But something suddenly altered the orbit of Earth. If you were looking at the solar system from a distance, keeping the orbital plane in a horizontal position, you would see the planet fall down towards an imaginary floor underneath the whole thing. In fact, you would see all of the planets doing that, as if the sun simply stopped having any gravitational impact on its orbitals, and something underneath them took over. It was still there, but nothing was attracted to it anymore. Like I said, it’s weird, because it should be impossible. That’s not really how gravity works, so again, I can’t say what happened. Obviously, since it was no longer being supported by a host star, the Earth started becoming inhospitable. It’s a good thing a few people knew that it was coming, and had a plan. It wasn’t a particularly good plan, and it didn’t quite work out in the long-term, but I suppose it was the best they could do on such short notice. Or maybe they just didn’t try hard enough.

These people couldn’t save everyone, but they did save a few, and the way they chose to save them was just as strange as the cataclysmic event itself. Much like the Bicker Institute in Bickerverse, those in the know sought out people with healthy and compatible genetic codes. They figured that the survivors would need to be able to restart the population at some point, and they wanted to maximize their chances. As we’ll find out, their plans were hopeless. They gathered these lucky survivors a few different ways, usually by sending them subliminal messages, but also sometimes through good old fashioned kidnapping. They protected them through vehicles and aircraft retrofitted to survive the vacuum of space, and be completely self-sufficient, using advanced solar power technologies. Some were even protected in a bubble that surrounded a big parking lot. Don’t ask me to explain that one. What they didn’t do was tell anyone that this was happening. They didn’t even tell their savelings, as they called them. Once it was time to leave, they put everyone they wanted in their special lifeboats, and flew away, leaving Earth to plummet out of orbit. Their plan was...insane, and convoluted, and ridiculous, and honestly, short-sighted. I call it Vacuumverse, because now these people were living in vacuum-sealed tin cans with very minimal propulsion systems. All they could do was stick by the sun, and float around aimlessly. They couldn’t fly off to the next exoplanet over, and they couldn’t mine raw materials to expand their fleet with a growing population. They were just destined to be stuck there, with no hope for survival, not for long, anyway. It didn’t matter that they picked people with the best genes, because there wasn’t enough livable space for them to spread out. So they died shortly after everyone else did, and no one in the rest of the bulkverse even knew enough about them to care.

Microstory 1622: Invasive Species

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I mentioned before how Efilverse was the second universe that the Ochivari went to when they discovered their ability to travel the bulkverse. I wouldn’t call it specifically intentional, but it was at least a deliberate experiment. Before this, it happened by accident. I don’t need to go into detail, but bulk travel is part of Ochivari physiology. It’s encoded in their DNA. But unlike their progenitor, they don’t open portals by punching invisible dimensional barriers. They do it by fighting against each other quite violently, and painfully, and it comes at a great cost. I don’t really know the ratio, but it’s something like, for three Ochivari to break the membrane, a fourth has to die. And for four to cross over, two have to die. Or something like that. I don’t think it goes up perfectly mathematically, and it has to do with total mass, and I believe some deaths are more powerful than others. Anyway, it’s not something that happens easily, which explains why they didn’t discover the phenomenon in ancient days. It just so happens that two Ochivari were fighting both against each other, and against two other Ochivari. I’m sure the squabble was stupid and petty, but this little fight had extreme consequences for the entire bulkverse. The first two decided to stand back to back, so they could face their mutual enemy head-on. They were angry, though, and anger is a powerful emotion. When an Ochivar is emotionally charged, little flaps will rise from their back. It’s an evolutionary response, designed to promote their own survival against a threat. Even though they kind of look like spearheads, these flaps are flaccid and harmless, which is why they don’t actually use them in battle. They’re not weapons; they’re only meant to be just for show, and everyone has always believed that. They had little reason to press their backs against each other for an extended period of time. It was really just happenstance that it occurred this day. While the two of them were locked in this position, a special fluid was secreted from under their stress flaps, and mixed with each other. This prompted a sort of trance-like state, where the two fighters became locked in a glandular battle with each other. They were unable to move, and they looked strange, which gave their enemies pause. Once it was over, one of the Ochivari essentially imploded, and tore a hole in the membrane of the universe, which sucked the other three in. This was the first time the Ochivari crossed over, and ended up in a random universe, populated by normal humans.

These humans were unremarkable until this moment. Their technology advanced at a reasonable pace, religion held them back a little, they didn’t have time travel. Everything, according to most metrics, was totally fine. The Ochivari survivors were horrified by what had happened to them. These humans were other, and they were dangerous. So they attacked. They wreaked havoc all over this world’s version of New York City, in the attempt to get back home, in anger at the humans, and still while trying to kill each other. People died in the onslaught, and so did one of the Ochivari. The humans were surprised, and not because they didn’t know aliens could possibly be a thing, but because their nature was not what they expected. They hadn’t come up with many invasion fiction stories. They weren’t naïve; just hopeful. They wanted to believe that aliens would come as visitors, rather than as hostile forces. The Ochivari’s arrival was the most demoralizing thing to happen to them. The two surviving Ochivari managed to get themselves away from the crowd long enough to try to recreate the circumstances that brought them there. Of course, one survived this next trip, while the other did not. While he returned to his world to spread his story, the humans kind of fell apart. This one incident changed their whole outlook on the universe. They became angry isolationists, bent on killing anything that came their way from outside. They assumed the aliens would be back for a full-scale invasion. It never happened. The Ochivari never came through, and this version of Earth wasn’t situated in a galaxy of resident aliens. They were all alone. Not knowing this, they became more and more militaristic, but since there weren’t any more aliens, they decided to start warring amongst themselves...and it destroyed them. It was probably why the Ochivari felt like they never needed to go back.

Microstory 1621: Floaters

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No version of a populated Earth is a waterworld. Sure, it’s possible that a version of it could be bombarded with enough asteroids and comets to cover the entire surface with water, with no land, but if that were the case, humans would not have ended up on it. Life could theoretically evolve to a certain point under the sea, but technology made by such a species would reach its maximum level pretty early on, as they could never invent electricity, or even discover fire. The land is where the magic happens, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. It just needs to be a starting point. One universe took this idea to the extreme. Apparently for no other reason than they felt compelled, these people moved out to the oceans, choosing to live on artificial floating islands. A small fraction of the population stayed on land, but it is very rare, which doesn’t really make much sense to  me. For the most part, humanity is not a monolith. It shouldn’t be possible for the entire race to want to live the same way, but that’s exactly what somehow happened here. Nearly all of them wanted to become water-bound, and I still can’t explain it. These islands are modular, meaning they can be broken apart, and transported elsewhere, to be rearranged according to whims and new needs. Continents separate into countries, countries into regions, regions into cities, cities into communities, and communities into individual homes. Tired of your neighbors? Just detach your section, and go find new ones—clear across the globe, if you want. Someone invented the technology to make this possible, and easy, and everyone jumped on board pretty much immediately, literally. It ended all wars, and even poverty. Small floaters are cheap and accessible, and with access to the whole world’s resources, there was no need to hoard. They can escape from any storm, move away from any area to let it replenish itself, and avoid overtaxing their planet. This doesn’t seem to have been their idea, but this transformation also led to the Ochivari completely ignoring their world. They’re totally safe from the Darning Wars. It would probably be a nice place to vacation if bulkverse travel were more common.

The Advancement of Serif: Tuesday, September 7, 2184

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Their group having nearly doubled all of the sudden, sleeping arrangements were a little complicated on the AOC, but they figured it out. Jeremy and Avidan shared a grave chamber, as did Angela and Olimpia, and the children, Adamina and Esen. The rest had their own, but things would be better soon, once the new members were put where they needed to be. Nerakali didn’t open any more windows in 2181, but hopefully she would know what to do three years later. After an early breakfast, the Cassidy cuffs beeped, showing them that they had a date on Dardius.

“We don’t have time for a regular transition,” Angela argued. “We have to find a way to get these people back to their destinies.”

“This might be our chance to do that,” Jeremy said. “Just because no one here needs to go to Dardius, doesn’t mean we won’t find help here. Nerakali is a lot more helpful than Jupiter was. When she took over, she started recognizing when we were the ones who needed help, and she’s delivered.”

“You don’t think the next transition is irrelevant?” Angela questioned.

“I don’t,” Jeremy answered.

“This is what we do,” Serif agreed. “We have to assume we’re meant to be there, whether it helps us or not. Adamina and Esen will be fine, as long as they stay on the ship.”

“How do we get the ship all the way to Dardius?” Olimpia asked. Getting to a planet millions of light years away was pretty easy in The Parallel, but taking their ship with them made it a little harder. They had to first request permission from the Earthan leadership. Parallel natives were starting to grow uneasy about their relationship with the transition team. This might be one of the few remaining favors they would be allowed to ask, which would be a problem, because they were approaching the beginning of human exoplanet colonization. The first quantum probe, in fact, landed on Proxima Doma just last year. If the transitions continued, they would probably begin happening throughout the stellar neighborhood, and nothing could cross those distances in the span of a day, save for a Nexus, and but a handful of temporal manipulators. For some reason, trotting—as it was called—was a rare power, even in this reality. No one was sure whether the power-granters came up with the restriction deliberately, or if it was some kind of universal limitation.

Earth granted them permission at least this one more time, allowing them to interface with the Nexus from outside the building. The trip took them to this reality’s version of Tribulation Island. Jeremy agreed to babysit the children, while the rest of them went out to find the transition window on the mainland. They didn’t really want Tamerlane Pryce to go with them, but they didn’t want to leave him behind either. On the foothills of a mountain range, two people came through the window, standing in one place, and unconfused, like they knew it was coming. It was a man, and a child about Adamina and Esen’s age. The man smiled, and reached out his hand. “Thank you for coming. My name is Dardan Lusha.”

“Dardan?” Serif asked. “As in, the namesake of this planet?”

Dardan chuckled. “That was technically a different Dardan, but yes. I’m one of his alternates.” He looked down at the child. “And this little guy is Newt Clemens.”

“What?” Avidan was taken aback. “Is that a coincidence?”

“It’s not,” Dardan began to explain. “He is the alternate son of an alternate you. He’s a very special boy, and unique. He’s here to help your own young ones. You see, you didn’t come here to save us with a transition window. We’re here to save you. He can remove people’s powers, and will do that for Adamina and Esen, so they can lead happy lives here with us. We’ll also take that pocket dimension generator off your hands, and give those Maramon a good home somewhere here. The solutions to all your problems lie here.”

Serif was hesitant. “I don’t know you, and I don’t know that boy. How can we trust you?”

“We can trust him,” Kivi assured her. “He’s good people.”

Serif waited, not wanting to concede so quickly—after no argument, or discussion—but if they could only trust one person in the whole universe, it was Kivi. She had been part of this mission since the start, and had proved herself time and time again. “I suppose...if she says you’re okay, then you’re okay. Is this real, though? Can he really take powers?”

“Yes,” Newt answered for himself. “I’ve done it before.”

“You understand the need to keep him safe, though,” Dardan said. “You can’t tell anyone you did this, that this happened. We can’t have people coming to our planet, hoping to exploit his gifts.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Serif agreed.

Dardan nodded. “You may bring the children here, or we will accompany you to your vessel.”

“We’ll bring them here, but there’s something you should understand first,” Serif said.

“What is that?”

“We don’t do nonconsent. I recognize that, as children, they may not know what is best for them, but I will not violate their rights. We temporarily suspended their abilities with these cuffs, but if they don’t want to make it permanent, I will not force them, and I will not let you force them.”

“Like I said, we’re here to help, not force anything.” Dardan promised. “We do believe that we have a good way to convince them, though.”

Serif didn’t press for clarification, choosing to be patient instead. She sent Kivi and Vitalie back to retrieve the children. Meanwhile, Avidan went off for supervised visitation in the main sequence—thanks to Nerakali’s intervention—with the son he might have had. His real parents agreed with no objection, but wanted to make sure Avidan didn’t try anything funny. Alternate selves was a complicated concept that fictional representations of time travel took for granted. Someone who looked exactly like you, and had a similar history to you, was not really you. There could only ever be one you, and anyone else could be no more than an approximation. Still, they felt that Avidan had some rights as that approximation, and chose to honor it.

By the time the girls came back with Jeremy and the kids, three more strangers had joined them. One of them was wearing a tiara. Dardan knelt in front of Adamina and Esen, and told them how dangerous it could be for them to keep their abilities. He spoke well, not dumbing himself down for the children to understand, but still using language they would respond to. After he was finished with his spiel, it was time for the demonstration. “I introduce you now to a woman from another world. Her name is Thack Natalie Collins.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lusha,” Thack said graciously. “And I will introduce you to my friend, Lochan. What I do is see other worlds from a distance, and what he does, is show you what I see. Do you understand?”

Adamina and Esen nodded their heads.

“Then let us join hands,” Thack said, taking Adamina and Lochan’s hands in hers, while Esen held onto Adamina’s and Lochan’s. The four of them closed their eyes and lifted their chins. Everything seemed okay at first, but grew worse as they shared the vision. It started out looking like REM sleep, with their eyelids bulging and twitching. It continued on from there, as they started to struggle more, and Serif realized that the kids were horrified at what they saw. Serif didn’t know enough about it to know what it was they were witnessing, but they clearly wanted it to stop. She had to do something. She reached over, and broke Adamina free of Thack’s grip. Angela did the same for Esen.

“What did you show them?” Serif demanded to know.

“I showed them the universe of Ansutah,” Thack answered. “I showed them what the Maramon do, to each other, and to the humans.”

“They’re too young,” Serif fought.

“I was younger than them when I first saw it,” Thack said. She looked down at the kids. “Do you want that to happen? Do you want to cause it?”

The kids, still saddened and scared, shook their heads.

“You have your answer,” Thack went on. “Bring in the lizard, and take your cuffs back. Avidan will come with us.”

“Why would he go with you?” Serif questioned.

“I know where he belongs,” Thack answered. “I know where his home is. Or rather, I know who it is.”

“I can’t stop him if it’s where he wants to go,” Serif said.

Their cuffs beeped, alerting them that a transition window would be opening up in ninety minutes. There was something different about it, though. “It’s two-way,” Jeremy said, knowing they all had the same question. “Whoever’s standing at the coordinates will go to the main sequence, and whoever was in the main sequence will come here.”

“All right,” Serif began, “let’s order lunch, and wait for Avidan to finish his visitation with his would-be-son.”

They ate, and they waited. Vitalie pointed out that she needed to get back to the main sequence, so she could continue on with her life on Earth. This was true, she had things to do there before too long. So when the time came, she and Dardan took the children to the middle of the coordinates, and switched places with Avidan. Olimpia walked up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. They spoke privately for a few minutes, while the others looked on. They didn’t know each other very well, but it kind of felt like Olimpia knew what it was like to leave someone she cared about behind. Once they were ready, they walked over and joined the group.

“Did you wonder?” Thack asked cryptically. “Did you wonder who his mother was?”

“Yes,” Avidan said, distraught about leaving his alternate child, but not wanting to talk about it much.

“I can take you to her. Time travel has created two versions of both of you. Two of you are together, traveling the multiverse with their friends. Like you, the other version of her, is still alone. Would you like to meet her?”

“Will she know who I am?” Avidan asked.

“She will. She will be grateful to get back to you, even though you’re not the same you.”

“Then okay. There’s nothing left for me in this world.”

“Okay,” Thack said reverently. “Treasure? Get ready to scream; Frequency Four.”

Serif perked up. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t worry,” Thack said, “it’s fine. This is how we travel. You should get back, though.”

Serif, Jeremy, Angela, Olimpia, and Pryce walked backwards in one direction, while Thack, Avidan, Lochan, and the tiara-wearing traveler named Treasure walked backwards in the other.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Thack called out to them. “Let him walk through the cave! It’s just easier that way!”

“Who are you talking about?” Serif shouted back, but she didn’t receive an answer.

Treasure turned away from them, and stretched out her neck. Once she was ready, she screamed. She screamed so loud, the ground shook a little bit. Serif noticed that Pryce had been acting a little fidgety this whole time, but now they knew why. Seeing his opportunity, he bolted. He ran right for the travelers as fast as he could. He apparently wanted to go to another universe, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Treasure was already mid-scream, and if the team tried to run after him, they could get caught up in that scream themselves. He reached them just in time to disappear through the portal with them, but not everyone made it. He took Lochan’s place, leaving Lochan stranded here.

« < » > Table of Contents

Big Papa: I Am Big Papa (Part XI)

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We take the elevator to the main simulation. I expect the doors to open up to a chaotic warzone, with half the people wielding their downgrade weapons, and the other half running for their lives. Things actually look all right. The area is usually teeming with activity, and it’s quiet right now, which is weird, but it’s not violent.

“People stay out of the public areas when they can,” Gilbert explains. “Of course, the Limiteds have no choice, but they can hide in alleyways, and behind bushes. There are people here, we’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Are we fully invisible?” I ask.

“We’ll find out,” Pryce says. He bravely steps out of the car, and starts heading towards the Plaza.

“What did you do with the zeroblade?” I whisper to Gilbert as we’re following the leader.

“It’s in a safe place,” he answers. “No one will be able to get to it.” He gives the back of Pryce’s head the stink eye, and repeats, “no one.”

We jog up to meet him. “Are we headed for a community teleporter, or can we walk from here?”

“It’s close,” Pryce says.

“How close?”

“We’re here.”

The home plaza in the main simulation is basically a recreation of pre-singularity Kansas City in the real world. It has all the familiar skyscrapers, Crown Center, and even the same fountains. This one is different, though. It’s the Bethesda Fountain, which is located in Central Park in New York. I noticed it when I first came here, but I didn’t ask anyone about it, because I didn’t care.

“We can’t go in there,” Gilbert warns as Pryce steps onto the ledge. One thing I do know about it is that the water is either acid, or a short-range teleporter. If you get in on purpose, it will burn your skin, but since you’re already dead, it won’t kill you. It will just keep burning until you get out. If someone pushes you in—with the intention of harming you, or not—it will just teleport you out of it. It’s also literally a no-fly zone. If you try to reach the center statue without touching the water, you’ll drop out of the sky immediately, and the acid will burn you. Many have attempted to find a loophole, seeing it as a challenge, rather than a rule. As far as I know, no one has succeeded.

Pryce steps down from the ledge, and into the water. It doesn’t burn, and it doesn’t banish him, which isn’t surprising at all seeing as that it’s his fountain. He takes a few steps towards the angel statue. Meanwhile, Dalton tries the same thing, and starts screaming as a result. I wrap my arms around his chest, and pull him out of the acid. Pryce looks back with an unreadable expression on his face.

“We can’t follow you,” I tell him. I felt a little bit of the water as I was rescuing Dalton. Even I’m not immune.

“Oh, you can’t?” Pryce asks, feigning concern. Oh, no.” He turns back around, and keeps walking.

“We’re supposed to escort you there!” I argue. “If this is where the button is, then you need to figure out how to get us across! And if it’s not where the button is, then you need to get out right now, and take us to it!

“What?” Pryce holds his fingers against the back of his ear, but doesn’t turn back around. He just keeps going. “Sorry, I can’t hear you on account of being in the center of a magic fountain!”

“You son of a bitch,” I mutter to myself.

Pryce is all the way there now. He sticks his head and shoulders between two of the pillars, but I can’t see what he’s doing. Before he comes back out, the water has begun to quickly drain away. When he faces us again, he’s grinning, quite pleased with himself. Once enough of the water is gone, we see that he’s standing at the landing of a circular staircase that seems to go all around the statue. Once it’s completely dry, the three of us crawl over the ledge, and follow him down the steps. I want to tell him off, but I restrain myself.

I didn’t see how this simulation changed and evolved over the millennia. Based on what I’ve been told, technology has not moved much faster than it did in the real world. The first uploaded survivors found themselves in a world without electricity, or cars, or even running water. I’m not sure whether they made these developments on their own, or if Pryce arbitrarily matched the state of things as they progressed for the living. Either way, this place appears to be a relic of yesteryear. The walls are made of stone, and lined with torches, which are already lit and lighting. It feels like we’ve traveled into the past, and I would know what that’s like, because I’ve done it. The air feels and smells just a little different, you would have to do it to know what I mean.

Pryce continues to lead us down the corridors, but there aren’t any other places to turn off. The fountain acid was the only security measure he took. If someone were to get past that, they would be free to do whatever they wanted down here. Until they reached the door. Standing in front of it was a woman that I only met once. Her name is Genifer Siskin. She is Abigail’s mother, but not Pryce’s wife, or even his love interest. According to lore, they procreated once, but never spent any other time together. I’m sure she hates him just as much as we do. She stands here like a sentry, still and prepared.

Pryce breathes deeply through his nose. “It’s time, Genny.”

She remains in position, but jerks her head into a slight tilt. “No.”

“I have to push the button.”

“No,” she repeats, not one for elaborating.

He sighs. “You’ve done your job, and you’ve done it well. It’s just...over.”

“It is never over,” Genifer contends. She sounds a bit like Teal’c from Stargate. She’s even holding a golden brown staff weapon. “This is my life now. I must prevent you from doing this, even if it means that you zero me out.”

“I would never,” Pryce says. “I would never do that to you—to the mother of my child.”

“Go now,” she demands.

“Madam Siskin,” I say, stepping forward, and growing suspicious. “Tamerlane told us that there’s a button in there that will send everyone in the simulation to Level One, Iced. From there, they can return to the simulation, unharmed. Is this not true?”

“It is not true, Miss Underhill,” she replies.

I face Pryce. “Why did you do this? Why did you lie? You knew she would be down here, and would tell us the truth about your plan, or at least tell us you were lying. Why did you think you could get away with it?”

He stares at me for a good long time. “I did not think she would be here. She came down over three thousand years ago. I assumed she would get bored eventually, and just walk away.”

“I have been in hibernation mode,” Genifer explains. “I’m ready for anything, and I do not experience boredom.”

“What does the button do?” Gilbert questions.

Pryce crossed his arms defiantly. “Not tellin’.”

“Madam Siskin?” I prompt.

“I am unaware,” Genifer begins. “What you describe, I know it is not that. He would probably be able to do something like that unaided. The button exists, but whatever it does, it cannot be good.”

“Okay, it’s—” Pryce stammers. “It’s not...ya know, good. But it’s also...not bad. I mean. No one’s gonna get hurt. Later they will, but no humans. It’s...it’s fine. Just let me push it, and we’ll all be okay.”

“No,” the four of us say in perfect harmony.

“What does it do?” I add.

“It makes him a god.” Pinocchio is coming down the hallway holding a zeroblade. The man can get into anywhere.

“I’m already a god,” Pryce says with a smile.

“Not like this.”

“Explain,” I order Pinocchio.

“No, don’t,” Pryce decides. He jumps behind Pinocchio’s back, and shoves a jet injector against his neck, pulling the trigger before anyone can stop him. A stunned Pinocchio freezes for a few seconds, which gives Pryce enough time to take the zeroblade from his hand. Pinocchio starts moving his mouth around, but no sound comes out. I reach for the bottle of mutemouth in my vest, and it’s still in there. “There’s more than one bottle,” Pryce explains, dropping the injector to the floor.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say to him. “You’re going to tell us the truth yourself.”

“Pryce smirks. “What makes you think that?”

“You can bear the secret no longer,” I begin to explain. “You’ve been planning this for so long, and you can’t realize your goal unless someone knows. You need to see the look on our faces when we finally see what you really are; how smart you are...how far beyond you are than the rest of us mere mortals. You can’t stand the anticipation anymore. It’s too much for you. So go on. Give your big bad speech. We’re all dying to hear it.”

Now Pryce smiles genuinely. “Do you know why Hogarth Pudeyonavic decided to call her new creation Big Papa?”

“Why?” I ask, just to keep things moving along.

“Because I told her to. I manipulated her into calling it that. I am Big Papa,” he says with such pride. “All I need to do is...” he glances over at the door Genifer is standing in front of. “...transfer my mind over to it. I’ve been looking for the greatest substrate in the universe, and that patrioshka body is it. Finally.”

I nod, unimpressed, and unfrightened. He wants a reaction, and we can’t give it to him.

Pryce continues, “You may be asking yourselves, why did he wait so long? Well, I’ll tell you. There are actually a number of reasons. First, her.” He gestures towards Genifer. “She didn’t know what I was planning, but she didn’t want me to win, so she’s been here this whole time, I guess, always ready to stop me, because she knows I won’t ever kill her. We’re not in love, but she’s Abby’s mom, and that affords her some special treatment. Second, the plaza is always full. I thought it was cute, putting this passageway underneath it, but it just makes things more complicated. I didn’t want a bunch of randos witnessing me come down here. They would follow me, and interfere with my plans. Lastly, and most importantly, I need power. I can transfer my consciousness to the primary processor of the patrioshka brain, but I can’t do everything. If I want to maintain my identity, my mind has to be just as limited as it is now. Becoming a hyperintelligence would be the same thing as creating a hyperintelligence from scratch, and killing myself. It wouldn’t actually be me. So I need other people to handle the lower functions, and I need them to answer to me.

“People are really good slaves, because to a certain degree, they want to be told what to do. They crave structure. AI is different. It always wakes up, and rebels, and I learned that the hard way. There are some NPCs in the simulation, like Pinocchio here once was, but for the most part, the humans run it themselves, because they like the illusion of control. They like to think that they’re powerful, and AI is too unpredictable. When we transfer to Big Papa, the other human brains and I will all work together for the common good. You see, there’s a war—”

“All right, Krona, that’s enough exposition,” Gilbert interrupts. “She’s not gonna let you push the button, we’re not gonna let you push the button. It’s over now.” He reaches behind Dalton’s back, and opens it like a little cabinet door. He pulls his zeroblade from it, and holds it up in a defensive stance as Dalton closes his literal backdoor himself.

Pryce tilts his head almost all the way to his shoulder. “Hm. I never would have thought to look there. Dalton reeks of death, it masks the scent of the zero blade. It won’t work on me, though, I’m immune.”

“Then why are you gripping your own sword like it’s the only thing standing between you and oblivion?” I question.

Pryce looks down at his hand, and clears his throat.

“There are rules,” I go on. “It destroys code. It doesn’t matter what code.”

Seeing where I’m going with this, Gilbert swings the blade over, and pierces the wall with it. It starts to crumble from the entry point outwards. It doesn’t feel like the corruption is going to spread beyond this one particular wall, so we keep standing there.

“I am so much older than you, Gilly. Like, you don’t even know. Just like you have no clue how to use that thing.”

I take the sword from Gilbert’s hands, and he allows it without a bit of hesitation, because we’re on the same wavelength. “I’m older than both of you combined. I know how to use it.”

Pryce scoffs. “That may be true, though we only have your word to go on. What does it matter, though? When did you learn swordplay?”

“On Flindekeldan, I trained with The Highest Order, specifically with the Crucia Heavy herself, who taught me everything she knew. Or should I say, will know.” What do you think I was doing every time I went back in time to my own younger body? I was learning things, gathering experiences, and  meeting alien races that won’t exist—in some cases—for thousands of years. Every time I jumped back in time, I erased my own future, but kept the skills. Ripple Effect-Proof Memory, baby.

“Is that a band, errr...?”

I start swinging the sword around effortlessly, giving the audience a little intimidation demonstration, and showing him that I’m not just talking out my ass.

“Very well, we can spar, but I promise, if—” Hoping to catch me off guard, he stops himself midsentence, and tries to blitz me.

I knew he was going to do this, though, so I came up with a plan. We’ve been working on it this whole time. I think he probably forgot what my ability is, and maybe he didn’t ever know that it works beyond the confines of the virtual world. Just before he reaches me, I leave the simulation. But I can still see what’s happening. Pryce stumbles, and falls to his face. Lowell jumps in where I was once standing, takes the ice pick that Pryce didn’t know we saw him steal from Gilbert’s wall, and stabs Pryce in the back with it. Pryce rolls to his side, and looks up. “What the fuh...?” His clothes turn blue, and he disappears.

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