“Human-made,” she corrected him. “And yes. You can think of our communities as the jelly in the center of the donut. It’s the best part. No more wars, no more crime, no more sickness, no more suffering, and every day the weather is perfect. We’re living out eternity here. It’s about as close to Utopia as any of us will ever see.”
They began to reach the far side of the lake and the holographically projected sky seemed to dissipate, and the ugly, metallic, corpse-like bowels of the ship began to reappear. They were headed for a dark circle in particular, a gigantic opening that would take them farther inside the ship via a tunnel that stretched for dozens of kilometers.
Once they’d entered, Old-timer spoke again.
“Jules, just who the hell are you?”
“I grew up in San Diego, a diehard Chargers fan. I have two older sisters, both of whom live just a few blocks away from me in Eden.”
Old-timer was dumbfounded again. Is this another trick? he asked himself. Or are these androids not aliens at all? At least not in the traditional sense. Are they human? Are they from Earth?
“Is that enough, or you want to know my favorite color too?”
“When were you, uh…”
“Rescued?”
“Assimilated,” Old-timer asserted.
She narrowed her eyes slightly but let their semantic differences slide. “Eight years ago.”
“The androids came to your Earth?”
“Yes.”
“Did you resist?”
“Of course. We were terrified, but they were overwhelming.”
“I don’t understand,” Old-timer shook his head slightly.
“I know,” Jules replied, as though Old-timer’s statement was blatantly obvious. “If you understood, you wouldn’t be kidnapping me.”
“If you were assimilated against your will,” Old-timer continued, ignoring her argument, “why are you willing to stay here? Why are you willing to be 1’s slave? What broke your will to resist? Don’t you want to be human again?”
“For the last time,” Jules began after sighing deeply, “I am human. And it isn’t about breaking anybody’s will. The collective just told us the truth, and once we knew the truth, we knew what we had to do.”
“And what’s this truth?” Old-timer asked, dubious that any answer could ever make him join the collective.
“That humanity is not immortal,” Jules replied. “Use your reason, Craig. Humans invent and invent and invent. It’s what separates us from every other species in the known universe. Our technologies are double-edged swords. Fire let us cook our food and kept us warm, but it let us burn our enemies and wage war. Nuclear technologies led to unlimited power sources, but it was also the sword of Damocles that hung over us—was used in WWII but truly unleashed in WWIII, yet even this wasn’t enough to destroy us. Think of each of these inventions as little marbles removed from a jar—some are white, because they help humanity, some are gray because they both help and hurt, and some are very dark gray, because they threaten our very existence. But Craig, it is inevitable that one day, humanity will reach into that vase with our inventive minds and pull out the pure black marble—our last invention. And that invention will be the end of everything—the end of the multiverse—the end of life.”
Old-timer swallowed as he listened to Jules’s rationalization. He wanted desperately to dismiss it, to insist that it was nothing more than fanatical Luddite propaganda, but there was an image screaming in his mind, and a coldness that felt that it might stop his heart as he asked, “And what’s the last invention? The black marble?”
Jules’s eyes widened as she read the expression of dread on Old-timer’s face. She recognized it instantly. “You already know the answer, don’t you Craig? You’ve already seen it.”
“I-I haven’t seen it,” Old-timer stammered in response.
“But you know of it. I can see it in your eyes. The invention that destroys universes. I know you know it.”
“Just-just shut up,” Old-timer replied, shaken. “Take me to the replicator. I have people to rescue. Really rescue—not your version of it.”
Jules continued to fly Old-timer through the long, dark tunnel, only dimly lit by sporadic lights on either side, like a massive subway tube. “I won’t resist, Craig. I can already see on your face that I won’t have to.”
8
“Got it!” James announced proudly, looking up from the table he sat at with the A.I. and catching Thel’s and the candidate’s attention as he held a long furl of code up like a trophy fish for display.