My view of warfare was fairly academic. Open warfare was, in essence, an information-gathering exercise. From a game-theory point-of-view, attack and defense were designed to resolve the capabilities of opponents until both sides converged on the same assessments.
I’d openly shared almost all information regarding Atopia to avert such a conflict—“almost” being the operative word. Perhaps by sharing what we were hiding, I could negotiate a peace with Terra Nova, but it was hard to shake the feeling that I was a traitor to my own cause.
Even then, I couldn’t imagine Terra Nova being so desperate that they would purposely direct powerful hurricanes onto the densely populated West Coast. Even a weakened America would be sure to retaliate, violently, after the damage these storms would cause. Terra Nova was ensuring its own destruction.
Once upon a time, when we’d just started Atopia, I’d helped lay the foundations for Terra Nova as well. I was perhaps the only person on Earth who could fix whatever was happening.
“Are you ready?” Marie asked. “This may be our only chance.”
With all the attention focused on the emergency at hand, a window of opportunity had opened for us to talk with the Terra Novans directly and in secret—a chance to strike a grand bargain. “Everything is set up?”
“They’re waiting,” Marie replied. Seconds ticked by.
“Very good. Initiate.”
We exploded upward out of my office, squeezing through a tight communication channel in the Atopian perimeter, and then dispersed, clipping and mixing our sensory packets around the globe. We rematerialized in a large, warmly lit room with wooden walls that arched in vertical panels to intertwine and spiral together to form the ceiling.
On closer inspection, the walls weren’t paneled, but were living tree trunks growing tightly together, and the place glowed with a light that seemed to emanate from nowhere. I was seated beside Marie at a large stone table.
Across from us sat the Elders of Terra Nova. In the middle of them was my old student, Mohesha. She nodded at me, smiling, and I smiled back. My distrust began to melt away.
The senior Terra Novan Elder, Tyrel, began speaking, “It is with gratitude that we accept you in our council today. We know this is a great personal risk.”
It hardly mattered anymore. My days are numbered was what I wanted to say. I just wanted things to be right, to do the right thing.
“I also am honored.” I nodded deeply. “I come here today to negotiate a peace.”
Without emotion, Tyrel watched me. “We have great respect for you, the mother of all of this,” he said, sweeping his hand around the table, “of all Terra Nova, and more, of all synthetic intelligences and worlds—”
“Thank you, but I’m not here to collect—”
“You’ve been used, Patricia—deceived. You’ve even deceived yourself!” interrupted Mohesha. Her dark features glowed in the soft lighting.
“I’m not here out of desperation,” I said firmly, ignoring her. “We’re beating this storm trap. I am here simply because I want the same things as you.”
Silence.
“Even if we wanted to, and we do, we could not help you,” replied Tyrel.
“You must see the destruction coming,” I continued. “You know we’ve been hiding some of the details, but the pssi program is the only solution.”
Tyrel and the rest of the Elders watched me sadly.
“Chasing happiness, by giving people anything they want, has never been the path to salvation,” said one of the other Elders after a pause. “Satisfying every material and sensual pleasure will not lead to peace.”
“But surely you have seen what I have seen!” I shouted, slapping the table. “You have to stop what you are doing. It will only lead to your own destruction!”
Dead silence. Absolutely no reaction.
“After Atopia escapes, I’m going to the media, to tell them what I’ve been hiding,” I explained. “I’ve already started it through Sintil8. It will slow the release and we can collaborate.”
“We know about Sintil8,” said Tyrel. “We know what you’ve been planning with him.”
“What do you want then? Is it money, a share of the profits?”
“How far you have fallen,” Tyrel stated sadly. Tears came to his eyes. “You can no longer stop what you have created.”
“Is all this just about stopping the pssi program so you can position yourselves better?” I asked incredulously.
“This is not about the pssi program.” Tyrel wiped away his tears. “By itself, we would have been happy to evolve together, in a symbiotic coexistence under your dominance, but you’ve unleashed an unspeakable evil into the world. We must destroy Atopia to stop it.”
“What are you talking about?” Then a light winked on. “So you admit to creating these storms?”
My mind raced. Had Sintil8 double-crossed me? Had I made a fatal mistake in bringing him so close to me? Was he the monster I’d unleashed? How had Terra Nova managed to jump so technologically far ahead to control weather like this?
And how do they think they can get away with it?
“Yes, we created these storms, as you say,” Tyrel admitted, “but I cannot say more, and even if I could, we don’t have the full picture. We believe the key to what is happening is contained in William McIntyre’s body.”
“Willy?” I asked, remembering the report on Bob’s friend. I became even more confused. “Did you have something to do with Willy’s body disappearing? Why?”
“It was through his proxxi Wallace that we first understood the potential magnitude of the danger,” admitted Tyrel, “but it was Sintil8 who helped Wallace disappear from Atopia using the access keys you granted. Wallace was acting to protect William.”
Things were spinning into nonsense. All I understood was that Sintil8 was involved in the disappearances.
“We have no time for this,” I objected. “We need to make a deal now. You’ve seen the same phutures I have, there is no other solution. If you don’t stop this, you’ll be destroyed!”
“We’ve seen the phutures,” agreed Tyrel, “but you didn’t take into account one scenario.”
“And what is that?” We’d played out billions of phutures.
“The destruction of Atopia.”
That stopped me in my tracks. It was true—all of our phutures included Atopia as a component of the solution set.
“This is a trap of your own making,” explained Tyrel, “and yes, you may escape these storms.… ”
My head spun. Had my pride blinded me?
“But, regardless, before the sun rises tomorrow morning, Atopia will be wiped from the face of this world.”
23
Identity: Bobby Baxter
Smiling at Nancy, I stuffed more pasta into my mouth.
“Think of it like getting ready to run a marathon,” I explained. “We need to do some carb-loading, to help build up our smarticle reservoirs. Keep eating!”
We’d both been storing much more than our usual load of smarticles from the Atopian environment, from smarticles floating in the the air we breathed to smarticles embedded in the food we ate, far beyond even our own high tolerances.
Nancy nodded and continued to eat methodically, looking down into her plate. It had been a long time since I’d been this physically close to her, and memories were flooding back. The way she looked at me, she was feeling it too. With some effort, I kept my mind from splintering and scuttling off into the past.
“I don’t like that we’re hiding from Patricia,” she said, looking down into her pasta. “Do you really think she’s up to something?”