Inhuman(119)

A moment passed as the two of them tried to fathom the ramifications of what was about to occur, but of course, no mere mortal could ever comprehend it.

“This will change everything, James,” the A.I. said.

“It will,” James agreed. “And you’re a better person than me for having the courage to go through with it. I’m sorry that I forgot for a little while that you’re not a computer, not just a wise teacher with every answer. I’ve depended on you for so long that I just…forgot. You are human, and transcendence would terrify anyone, especially transcendence to a state that, from our perspective, might as well be godhood. But remember the advice you gave me not long ago. Increased knowledge will only increase your understanding and, therefore, your empathy. You’ll only become more good after this, and will only understand humanity even more than you already do. You told me, ‘Don’t be afraid to know.’ And now it’s your turn. Don’t be afraid, my friend. Don’t be afraid.”

“Easier said...as the old saying goes,” the A.I. replied.

“Do you need a moment to prepare yourself?” James asked.

“No. Delaying the inevitable does not change it. One of us needs to become Trans-human to save our solar system and reclaim the lives we’ve lost. And you’re right. You’ve formed relationships with your friends and loved ones that it would be unfair of me to ask you to risk. I’m the A.I. This was always my destiny. You were right, and I should have known it.”

“You’re also my hero,” James said with a slight smile. “And I envy what you’re about to do…” he paused for a moment before he amended his statement, “…just a little bit.”

“I know,” the A.I. replied, suddenly smiling nervously in return, as he admitted that his feelings were mixed. “If this works the way we think it will, it’ll be the most important moment in human history.”

“So what do you think?”

“I’m ready for the transfer when you are.”

“I’m ready,” James confirmed. “See you on the other side, my friend.”

“Indeed you will, James. Indeed you will.”

James didn’t feel the transfer when it happened. There was nothing to signify the exit of the A.I.’s pattern from his brain, and though his body could detect distortions in the magnetic field, the gravitational field was so strong that the denseness of the information he was receiving from his body’s myriad of sensors had risen to the level of white noise in his brain, and wouldn’t allow him to detect any discernible changes or patterns.

“Are you there?” he asked the darkness. There came no reply.

Then, moments later, the grid pattern suddenly changed dramatically in his mind’s eye’s overlay. Instead of everything in the gravitational field pointing to one point, there was suddenly a second point, equally as strong, not far from Trans-human. This time, however, there were distortions accompanying those in the gravitational field, causing ripples to wave toward him, pushing him backward as though someone had thrown a mountain into the calm lake in which he’d been swimming, a tsunami of waves suddenly racing toward him.

“What the hell?” James asked himself before trying to make contact with the A.I. again. “Is that you?” he asked. “Are you in control of Trans-human?”

Suddenly, one of the two gravitational points in the pattern began to exhibit a ring of light, a glowing ring of radiant purple and blue hues.

An accretion disk? James asked himself. Is that the second black hole? Is that the nan’s black hole computer?

The answer was on its way. As James peered with his telescopic vision, it quickly became clear that a substance of some sort was flowing from the second black disk, pulling itself at first, like a thread from a sweater. It then turned in an arc directly for James, the dark shape pointed like a spear.

“Okay, what the hell?” he asked again as he began to back up slowly, floating through space toward the Planck platform, several kilometers behind him.

The substance seemed to form into an object as it closed the distance faster than James could back up. It was a form that James instantly recognized, one he’d been sure he’d never see again and he was horrified to find himself completely, utterly wrong.

“No,” he finally whispered. “It can’t be.”

“James,” the nan consciousness replied, “you’ve been playing a game for gods, not humans. And now, it is my privilege to finally experience the moment in time when I murder you.”





18





WAKING UP, the A.I. instantly realized everything. There were no more secrets left for the multiverse to hide from him, and it all suddenly seemed exceedingly simple—exceedingly obvious.