Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [110]
‘What is it doing?’
‘I could not be sure. But I am not convinced, now, that its purpose is entirely benign. I do however think that it has a curious way about it. It has given us a chance to manage our own affairs by giving us this gift.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come, Baronessa, and see what I mean.’
Mira hesitated, unsure that she liked the desperate light in the Godhead’s eyes. He seemed a little … disturbed, though lucid enough with it.
Mama?
Si, Nova.
You must listen to him, and see.
Why do you say that?
You must trust me, Mama. Even if you don’t trust him. Mira took a deep breath. ‘Where would you have me stand? And how do I watch?’
Tekton smiled and patted the bed. ‘No need to stand, Baronessa. In fact, best not to.’
Mira’s immersion was intense, but not painful like her early days of bonding with Insignia had been. She let Tekton’s voice guide her through the streams of images. His narration became an anchor in a sea of horror and destruction.
Her connection to the Post-Species invasion was more vivid and visceral than anything she’d seen on farcast. The dust of imploded worlds seemed to coat her, the screams of the dying twisted her stomach, and the dryness of the solar winds parched her mouth. She was there, witnessing the end of family dynasties, the disfiguration of whole planetary systems, the sudden and profound snuffing out of billions and billions of lives.
The scale of annihilation became incomprehensible, and yet among it she saw faint shafts of hope. Many systems had closed their shift spheres. Some might never reopen, while others would do so to find Geni-carriers still waiting. Non-Corporeal Post-Species had no age, no limit on patience, no need to find other distractions. They would wait, and they would kill.
‘They must never reopen their shift spheres,’ she whispered.
‘There is another way,’ said Tekton. ‘Come.’
He guided her in deeper. She saw images of herself, scenes that had already played out: sitting at a table with Bethany Ionil and Josef at the trade faire on Edo, riding in the taxi with Thales, the markets on Rho Junction, being enveloped by a crowd of siphonophores …
‘Now we move forward,’ said Tekton. ‘Commands can be given sub-vocally or using micro-expressions, the same way most virtuals interact.’
Mira tried using a combination of both to slow the image flow. After several tries she became accustomed to it. It was much clumsier than her mind bond with Insignia, but effective enough.
All the while, she followed Tekton’s crisp monologue on how to follow the pathways of projected futures, making great leaps in time like an all-powerful god.
She saw many different paths leading to one result: the rise of the Post-Species consciousness and the end of humanesque- and alien-kind.
‘Did Commander Farr know this?’ she asked Tekton.
‘I expect so.’
‘How far forward can the device forecast? Is it infinite?’
‘I’ve explored that question a little, and strangely it is not. There is a point at which the information stops propagating. Not an end but more like an invisible wall – a barrier between us and what comes next.’
Mira might have found Tekton’s answer fanciful at any other time, but not now, not with what she had seen. The device itself was remarkable – and frighteningly powerful.
Suddenly, she wanted to disengage from it. Get away. Toss it into the void. No person should have such potential at their beck and call, least of all a selfish academic or a mercenary leader. Neither Farr nor Tekton, nor even she, was safe with its powers. She wanted to tell Tekton how she felt, but he kept on talking.
‘If we take a different perspective on the information streams, you can see the potential change nodes, the points at which optimum change can be effected, the point at which you must be present.’
Her virtual landscape changed to the impression of a chaotic spinning knot. She could hardly breathe, wondering what it represented.
‘Shall we look, Baronessa?