“What about?” I asked.
“The Antecessors.”
“You surprise me, Iokan.”
He ignored the gentle sarcasm. “I think I know what happened.”
“Really? You know why the genocide happened?”
“Oh, I knew that. No, I’ve figured out why they were different when they came back.”
So he’d been having theological thoughts. Hopefully this was a sign of theological doubts. “How exactly were they different?” I asked.
“Well, they never seemed especially… compassionate, if you know what I mean. They changed the world to their liking and didn’t let anything get in their way…”
“Like animals, for example.”
“Exactly! They changed everything to suit them, nothing like the way you run this planet. They wouldn’t have thought twice about getting rid of the native species and adding their own instead. But when they came back, they weren’t like that at all. They gave us an option. They gave us a chance to say no.”
“Did anyone want to say no?”
“Of course not. They were offering an eternity in heaven, with them! Who’d refuse that?”
“I thought you said you refused?”
“I… avoided them. I thought they were the way they used to be. But finally they found me and showed me the truth.”
“As you’ve said. But you were saying you’ve realised why they had a change of heart?”
“They went into space!”
“Okay…”
“No, think about it. Why do we go to other universes? Because the stars are so far away! No one can get past lightspeed. We can see there are other species out there on some worlds, but they’re hundreds, thousands of light years away, and we can never reach them. But what if you were made of light? Like the Antecessors? Light can travel at lightspeed, it has to! And you wouldn’t have to experience all those light years, you’d feel like you travelled the distance almost in an instant! You understand relativity, yes?”
“I understand the basic principle.”
“So they disappeared for three thousand years. Imagine what they might have found! There must be amazing things out there… beautiful things. Divine things.”
“But this is just speculation…”
“Something must have happened. It must have!”
“Iokan… have you been having doubts?”
“Doubts?”
“About the Antecessors.”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why are you trying to figure out how they became good?”
“I’m just trying to understand them better.”
“You didn’t seem this concerned until recently. Are you sure you haven’t had doubts…?”
He seemed at a loss to explain things to me. “Well, you see, it’s like…” he sighed. “You’re not going to believe me unless I explain, are you?”
“I’m finding it difficult, yes.”
“Part of my job — yes, that job, the secret job — was to investigate them.”
“I see.”
“Every country in the world had a unit dedicated to investigating them, either to find things we could use, or to make the relics safe…”
“And that was what you did, after you finished with special forces?”
“Not straight away, they put me in their own special forces unit to begin with, just for a probationary period, and then I had to go back to school to pick up all the skills I needed, but then, yes, I was an investigator.”
“What was the organisation called?”
“Do you really need to know?”
“It helps to put a name to things.”
“All right, I suppose if you have to put a label on a file… D0”
“That’s it? Dee-Oh?”
“That’s enough.”
“And this organisation investigated the Antecessors?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you give me any examples?”
He sighed. I was exasperating him. “Well… well, there was the time we found an ancient bodyformer.”
“Which is…?”
“It was a device that created human bodies. Copied them, either with the personality intact or with some other mind. And, as sometimes happens with that kind of thing, it was set off accidentally and made copies of the investigative team.”
“So you didn’t work alone?”
“There were three people in each team — me, Feren, Soferenata. We got trapped in there when the machine made copies of us, and of course everyone thought they were the real ones. We got out in the end, but the copies made a complete mess of things on the outside. They went off on another investigation and screwed up because, well, they weren’t exactly perfect copies.” He shook his head. “We had to destroy them.”
“You killed them?”
“They planted a bomb in D0 headquarters and threatened to set it off unless someone explained what was going on. They thought they were in a parallel universe.” He smiled sadly. “We didn’t have a choice.”
“And was this typical of your encounters with Antecessor technology?”
“Some things were worse. Most of the time we only found trinkets. But yeah, that kind of thing happened a lot.”
“I can see why you were having some trouble reconciling the two sets of experiences — the Antecessors you investigated and the ones you met later.”
“I’m not having doubts.”
“But you need more justification?”
“I — well, what I need — it’s hard to explain…” I waited for him to try. “Something happened to them. I don’t need to know why…”
“But it helps.”
He sighed. “They’re good. That’s the important thing. They did what was best for us. I’m certain of that…”
His hypothesis was clearly wishful thinking to shore up his beliefs. But there was a loose end to the story that, if pulled on, might help to unravel it. “Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“You say the Antecessors left your planet to go to the stars?”
“That’s right.”
“Most species that leave their worlds do so because of some kind of cataclysm. Do you think that happened to them?”
“We never found out for sure. Something happened. They left. That’s all we know.”
“But why not go to another universe? It’s much easier than going to the stars, and lots of people do it. Why go to all the trouble of star travel?”
“Other universes are dangerous.”
“Most of them are empty.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“We explore dozens every year.”
“They might start off empty. But if you can get there, so can someone else.”
“Did anyone else ever come to your universe?”
He stopped there.
“Iokan? Is that a difficult question?”
“It’s a dangerous question.”
“Why is it dangerous?”
“I’ve said enough for now.”
“If you’re worried about something, I’d like to help.”
“No. You can’t help. Leave it alone.”
“Is it anything to do with the Antecessors?”
“No.”
“Is there anything you can tell me?”
“Nothing.”
There was something else, all right, but we’d hit a dead end. He was determined to protect us with his silence, and would say no more on the subject.
3. Pew
Bell still hadn’t replied to my last message, and it was nearly a day later. I sent another one and fretted over the wording for half an hour, second-guessing it, trying not to seem desperate but keeping an edge of annoyance to let him know I wasn’t happy. You’ve been gone for ages — just let me know what you’re up to, was the best I could manage as I realised the chimes had rung for the beginning of the next therapy session twenty minutes before, and Pew still hadn’t turned up.