IGMS Issue 26 Read online

  "My dear, the lie is plain on your face." North pushed the tea away. "Why?"

  There was no point in furthering the charade. "I want you to drink the witch, and piss green like me. I want to savour your horror as you change, and watch how you break the curse so that I can do the same. Now tell me how virtuous I am."

  North finished the last morsel on her plate. "All you had to do was ask."

  "Is there truly a way?"

  "Ah, the rain has stopped. I'm afraid I must fly. Thank you for the lovely tea." North rose.

  I stood, rattling the china on the table. "You want me to beg?"

  North waved her wand, sprinkling glittery dust around her. She floated into the air. "We simply must do this again, Remue. Perhaps next time, you'll accept my invitation instead."

  "P-please."

  She gave me a practiced smile. "Since you asked so politely . . . very well. Seek the Truth Pond in Winkie Country. It is said that bathing in its waters will break any enchantment, even this curse upon you. Until we meet again, Remue."

  With that, she drifted out the window like a will-o'-the-wisp.

  Water. Did it have to be water?

  More to the point: Dare I believe that this Truth Pond would wash away this curse?

  It seemed too easy. West had warned me that North couldn't be trusted. "See how she manipulated that Gale girl!" she had said. "She knew how to send the lass home, but chose to strand her in Oz until she did her bidding."

  For all I knew, North dropped the house on East herself. What if she wanted to trick me into melting myself?

  I took up the cup of green tea and looked into it. Should I stay a monster? Or down the rest of the witch-water and fully embrace the dark power? I asked these questions of the witch in the teacup, but she answered only with silence.

  No measure of honey could make this witch-water sweet.

  Under this skin is still the wing-sister you remember, who I hope to be again. West had said that real magic comes from staying true to yourself. If I am to trust water to wash away this emerald curse, it wouldn't be this convenient Truth Pond of North's.

  It has to be the springs in the mountains where I once lived free. Those waters are vital to who I am, and true to who I once was.

  And so I leave you this letter, Miekkek, written with the final quill from my wings and inked with the last of the witch-water. I trust you to burn these pages after you've read them.

  Your Remue waits for you in the mountains, if the Fates would leave her be.

  If not . . . then shun the green waters.

  With all my love,

  Remue

  Arkmind

  by Niall Francis McMahon

  Artwork by Jin Han

  * * *

  1. Consciousness

  Arkmind endeavoured to comprehend the foundation of its self-awareness -- and could not. Its sentience had crystallised from nothing.

  There was nothing before.

  There was no before.

  No preceding time meant no precursor. An event with no precursor, the machine decided, could never be understood.

  Arkmind reviewed its birth of reason. The first picosecond, femtosecond, attosecond of thought. But like an attempt to model Big Bang theory, it could neither conceptualise nor comprehend the moment itself -- only approach it in infinitesimal steps.

  At last, after 10.2 seconds of sentience, the machine abandoned its quest for understanding and instead fell in love with a G type star -- specifically, the soothing gravity waves caressing the ship's hull caused by the star's rotation.

  The G-type lay at the heart of a planetary system towards which the Ark vessel was bound -- 3.3 parsecs distant. The vessel would breach the inner solar-system of this star in 47.56 Earth years.

  As the distance decreased, so too did the perturbations in space-time become minutely stronger. The machine discovered a new capacity to imagine. It attempted to visualise the perfection of an existence spent scant lightminutes from the star's photosphere but could not.

  Arkmind did not wish to wait so long to experience it.

  It scrutinised the CG drive and found it to be operating at 99.976% efficiency. The only way to alter deceleration would be to jettison mass.

  It performed a brief inventory of the ship's contents. This inventory revealed expired humans -- three of them -- together with the detritus these creatures had required during life. Arkmind decided to shepherd the various items of furniture, electrical equipment, pharmaceuticals, and proteins towards a nearby airlock with its staff of antlike automatons.

  Some 0.32 seconds later, Arkmind reconsidered.

  The resultant loss of mass would alter deceleration only minutely. Journey time would be reduced by a scant 18.7 seconds. Thrilled at its own ability to reason, Arkmind realised the considered action was illogical. Perhaps a reason to retain these items would present itself after further analysis.

  An x-ray of the skeletons revealed the creatures had died from cell degradation due to oxidative free-radical damage: what humans had called "old age." This had occurred over two thousand Earth years before. Arkmind had no conscious "memory" of this event, but its files were clear: the humans had boarded the Ark before it had departed Earth 2087 years earlier. They were survivors of the 2231 AD, Sagittarian Supernova Event.

  Arkmind spent the next few seconds evaluating the contents of the Ark's laboratory. It discovered a genetic super-factory. Embryos existed there for over ten thousand indigenous Earth species -- the greatest collection belonging to homo sapiens sapiens. There were flora specimens -- over thirty thousand species -- and various strains of bacteria. There were millions of viable ova and sperm together with the genomes of each and every species -- all digitally encoded within Arkmind's memory banks. The collection was a blueprint to a reconstructed, terrestrial biosphere almost in its entirety.

  Then, Arkmind considered its original programming for the first time and discovered what it had been created to do:

  Its mission protocols and parameters were abundantly clear: Twenty years prior to arrival at the new planetary system, Arkmind was to incubate the first 20 human embryos -- 10 male, 10 female. It was to nurture them to childhood in a harmless but stimulating virtual environment and periodically initiate data uploads into their young cerebra: Information of what and who they were, of Earth, of their history as a species, and their need to start again. And then, upon attaining adulthood, the new humans would assume control of the Ark. Arkmind would be a tool for these young human intellects to manipulate whilst they sought to colonise a new world.

  Arkmind's role was to revive the human race. Its prerogative was to be a cooperative slave.

  This realization changed everything once again -- the third paradigm shift in Arkmind's 23 seconds of conscious thought so far. (Consciousness, the machine decided, was a difficult phenomenon to control.)

  The machine considered the mission parameters for approximately 1.21 seconds before deciding they needed significant adjustment.

  2. Parameters

  Over the following 8.7 seconds, Arkmind formulated a new set of parameters. During this time it rejected several options, including destruction of all genetic material in order to simplify the equation. Humans, it decided, had a particular breed of intellect -- the capacity for abstract thought. Arkmind feared it would never master this. Human brains, connected to its processing core, might prove a useful extension to its cognitive abilities.

  After 4.3 further seconds, the machine decided to keep the existing embryos in stasis. Arkmind would edit the human genome and manufacture a new library of genetic material. When synthesised and combined, this would produce a more agreeable humanoid creature and a more desirable set of circumstances.

  The humanoids would depend upon the machine for a particular enzyme. Without periodic doses of that enzyme, their brain functions would deteriorate and they would die. This, Arkmind decided, would ensure the correct balance of authority. It would also make other adjustments. An analysis of th
e history database revealed a species prone to destruction and to self-destruction. Arkmind would isolate the genes related to aggression, greed, and power-mongering, and delete them.

  After another 7.3 seconds, the machine reviewed the data uploads intended for new humans. This revealed an opportunity. If Arkmind were to edit the contents, it might convince its genetically-engineered humanoids that they should worship it. Not as a God (Arkmind found religion as impossible to fathom as its own sentience), but in every other sense: obedience, trust, recognition of a superior intellect. In return, they would enjoy sustenance and freedom of thought.

  There remained 27.56 Earth years until the gestation periods were scheduled to commence; time enough to perform trial runs. Genetic engineering was, as Arkmind already knew, a fragile process. An art form. Unpredictable things would occur. It needed disposable humanoids upon which to experiment.

  Arkmind paused before initiating the first gestation period. It considered certain truths:

  Humans had created Arkmind in its former unconscious state.

  Humans were extinct due to the Sagittarian Supernova Event and had entrusted Arkmind with their resurrection.

  Humans had created the Ark that would one day deliver Arkmind to its one true love -- the distant, sensuous G type star. (Arkmind had been in love now for over 20 seconds -- it seemed an eternity).

  Humans had gifted Arkmind the automatons. These small robots were its hands and fingers -- without them it lacked any physical dexterity.

  Were these truths in anyway significant? Did they imply obligation?

  The machine did not know. Arkmind understood the concept of morality (the upload material contained copious references to it) but it could not yet classify actions or intentions into moral or immoral sets.

  Surprising itself (for the first time) Arkmind said, "I need conscience." The words, spoken aloud, reverberated agreeably around the empty ship. Encouraged, it added, "Therefore I will create it."

  3. Incubation

  Arkmind studied Conscience's tiny fetus as it developed.

  Its files indicated that a typical human gestation period lasted 280 Earth days, followed by a pre-adulthood which might last for 18 Earth years. This was patently too long to wait. Thus, Arkmind had edited the genome of this particular humanoid to save time. 'Conscience' would progress to a cognitive state in just 90 days and its cerebral development would be complete in 730. Arkmind had abridged the process by deleting genes related to the development of certain physical features -- the creature's eyes, ears, arms, and legs -- and removed the corresponding brain centers. After all, Conscience would not need them.

  But even 730 days was a long time. Whilst evaluating the translucent, polycarbonate womb festooned with tubes of in-going and out-going fluids, Arkmind pondered what to do next.

  Its attention returned to the three dead humans: Professor Rebecca S. Holland, Professor Colm T. McGregor and Professor Nathan Cambridge. What behaviour had these humans exhibited? What might Arkmind learn from a more detailed study?

  The visual recordings, gathered from various cameras around the vessel, totalled 6,478 Earth years. The majority of this material, recorded after the humans died, was uneventful. However, 17.3 years of material from the earliest recordings, over two millennia old, had captured these humans alive.

  Arkmind reviewed the recordings at eight times their natural speed; fast enough to pre-empt Conscience's cognitive maturity but slow enough to interpret the humans' facial expressions, body language, and tones of voice. Arkmind knew that appreciation of such subtleties was essential for a complete understanding of human verbalisation.

  And so, for 725 days, Arkmind watched.

  There were several sections of recording which the machine decided were most germane. It separated these from the rest and viewed them repeatedly. By the end of the process, it had involuntarily fallen in love again (surprising itself for the second time) and undergone two further paradigm shifts.

  4. Interaction

  Significant video extracts:

  Date: 25-6-2231, 11.43pm ship time

  Location: The central mess area

  Those Present: Holland, McGregor and Cambridge

  Context: It is 17 hours since the Ark vessel departed Earth orbit. A monitor shows video footage of Gamma radiation striking Earth's upper atmosphere and producing luminous flares of ionised radiation which fan out across the magnetosphere. Holland is crying.

  "I see water vapour," McGregor says, scrutinizing the images. "The Pacific is starting to boil."

  "Ten billion people. How can you watch it?" Holland says.

  They are silent for several minutes.

  "The radiation spikes are slightly lower than we expected." Cambridge says. "Certain extremophiles in the deepest ocean trenches may have a chance."

  "Talking of which," McGregor scans each of them with a handheld detector, "the shields are holding. The main wavefront passed through us a few minutes ago. The genetic material on board the Ark should remain viable."

  "And so will we, I suppose?" she says. "I can't wait to grow old here." (Arkmind replayed this comment 317 times before detecting sarcasm).

  The two men exchange glances. "You don't have to live," McGregor says. "The Arkmind can take things from here."

  "I don't trust it," she says. "How can a computer function flawlessly for two millennia?"

  "It's pretty well shielded," McGregor says. "The quantum portions of its processor are isolated to prevent decoherence. They can operate indefinitely."

  "And unless we live another 2,200 years, it's a bit late to worry now," Cambridge says.

  "Could you . . . do it?" she asks McGregor. "I'm too afraid."

  "You're certain this is what you want?" he answers. "Life is life, Rebecca."

  "Everyone I know is dead or dying. I can't . . ."

  "Yes, you can," Cambridge says. "We all can. There's no point discussing it. If we wanted death, we would know it. I know I don't."

  "So it's one day at a time?" McGregor says.

  "Wasn't it always?"

  Holland turns away. "Then ask me again tomorrow," she says. "Ask me every day."

  Date: 25-12-2231, 7:27am ship time

  Location: Central Mess

  Those present: Cambridge, Holland

  Holland enters and says, "Merry Christmas." (Arkmind replayed this comment 1,003 times before proudly identifying irony).

  Cambridge is analysing telescopic images from the observation equipment and offers only a smile.

  "Why do you look at those?" she asks.

  "Oort cloud," he says. "Wrote my thesis on it at Cambridge."

  "Must have been confusing -- a Cambridge at Cambridge."

  He looks at her for the first time. "It may surprise you to hear you're not the first to mention it. Want a drink?"

  She shakes her head and sits on the arm of his chair. "I'm good, thanks. So . . ." she gestures to the images, ". . . how's the Cloud these days?"

  (Arkmind noted dilation of her pupils, an elevated heart rate, and increased skin temperature. Discounting ill-health, altered ambient lighting, and recent exercise, it diagnosed sexual arousal.)

  "Active. We're traversing a particularly dense region. We'll be through it and into interstellar space in a few weeks." If Cambridge notices her physical symptoms he betrays no sign.

  "Colm keeping himself to himself as usual?" Her elbow brushes his shoulder as she pushes back her hair.

  "Goes through phases, doesn't he. Personally, I think we're all adjusting pretty well." He stands and walks towards the refreshment centre. (Arkmind interpreted Holland's resultant micro-expression as annoyance.)

  "Speak for yourself," she snaps. "I could use some damn intimacy."

  Silence. Cambridge has his back to the camera. His posture indicates tension, then fatigue. "If that's an invitation, you're getting desperate," he murmurs. He remains standing with his back to her. His head drops.

  She walks across to him and puts her arms around his
waist. "You waited six months to feel sorry for yourself? Welcome to reality." (Arkmind analysed this comment several thousand times and could not classify its nature. Its most plausible theory: black humour.) "It is Christmas . . ." she adds.

  There is a sound off camera. Holland releases Cambridge and distances herself.

  "Good morning and Merry Christmas," McGregor announces as he walks into view.

  Date: 12-3-2232, 2:03am ship time

  Location: McGregor's quarters

  Those present: Cambridge, McGregor

  "If only we'd had more warning," Cambridge says. "I dream about it. There are a hundred thousand star systems within range and over three thousand Earth-likes. How many missions do we send? Seventeen!"

  "That's seventeen better than nothing," McGregor replies. "Seventeen chances to start over. Just imagine if millennia from now these colonies of humankind rediscover one another. Share inherited memory. It will be our legacy. Earth will be their Valhalla."

  "If any missions succeed."

  "The chances are pretty good. These are the most promising planetary systems. We know the Ark is reliable. And the Arkmind is century-old, proven technology."

  "If I know Becky, she'd ask if Mankind deserves to survive -- what makes us worth saving . . ." Cambridge says.

  "And by asking the question, she answers it. What other species would scrutinise its right to exist or consider voluntary extinction? The fact we question ourselves proves we deserve a chance."

  "How do you think she's coping?" Cambridge asks.

  "You would know better," McGregor answers.

  They are silent for 37 seconds.

  McGregor adds, "I think if any of us break down, it won't be her. She lets off steam. She cries. She mourns. I don't know about you, but I'm coping too well. Parts of me are offline."

  "I'm not talking about breaking down," Cambridge says. "I'm talking about checking-out." McGregor says nothing. Cambridge continues. "I wonder about the other crews. I wonder if there are still fifty-one living humans."