“But I am not your mother in any sense. I have never called myself Gaia, though I have called myself Herta, but I am neither. I did not create you; you created me. I do not nurture you; you nurture me.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “That’s who you aren’t . . .”
“As to who I am, perhaps another name would help. Remember what I called myself in Florida?”
“Sure. Anya.”
“Anya Mundy, to be exact.”
“Anima mundi!” Weezy said. “Soul of the world!”
The Lady smiled at Weezy. “You always were a quick one.”
Jack was shaking his head. “I was thinking of the guy who wrote King of the Khyber Rifles.”
“Helps to know Latin,” Weezy said.
He looked at her. “Another language?”
She shrugged.
The Lady said, “ ‘Soul of the world’ is closer but not quite accurate. I am, for want of a better term, the embodiment of the sentience on this planet. I was born when the interactions of the self-aware creatures on the planet reached a certain critical mass. Like any infant, I had limited consciousness at first, but as Earth’s sentient biomass expanded, so did my awareness. Eventually I appeared as a person—a child at first, then an adolescent, then fully grown.”
“The noosphere,” Weezy breathed, seeing it all come together. “Vernadsky and Teilhard were right?”
The Lady nodded. “Vernadsky originated the concept, but Teilhard was closer to the truth.”
“You’ve lost me,” Jack said.
Weezy spoke as the facts popped into her head. “Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was a Jesuit who theorized that the growth of human numbers and interactions would create a separate consciousness called the noosphere. Needless to say—but I’ll say it anyway—this did not endear him to the Church.”
“Are we talking cyberspace?”
“No,” the Lady said. “There is nothing electronic, nothing ‘cyber’ about it.”
“But where can it go from here?” Weezy said. “What’s the next evolutionary step?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I sense other noospheres out there—other worlds, other realities with sentient populations—but I can’t contact them. I am bound to my creators, to humanity. But perhaps the next step will be our noosphere achieving enough breadth and depth and strength to enable it to reach out and contact other noospheres.”
Weezy had an epiphany. “And maybe that will lead to a community of interacting noospheres, which in turn will give rise to yet another level, an übersphere of collective noosphere consciousness.”
Weezy felt herself trembling inside. This was wonderful.
Jack leaned forward. “Sounds like you’re talking about God.”
The wonder of it struck Weezy dumb for a few seconds. “Yes . . . maybe someday we’ll create God.”
They all sat in silence for a moment, then something occurred to her.
“They call you the Lady. Why? Do you always appear as a woman?”
She nodded. “Always. I don’t know why. Strictly speaking, I should be considered an it, but I always appear as female. I can choose my appearance—any age, any race, any level of beauty or ugliness—but for some reason I can appear only as female. And I must appear, must be physically present in the world. I can be anywhere, but I must always be somewhere.”
Jack frowned. “You can’t simply disappear, fade back into the noosphere?”
“No. The noosphere is everywhere, and I am its physical manifestation. As such, I must exist in the physical world.”
Weezy feared she might explode with . . . what? Glee? Rapture? Triumph? Vindication? But she reined herself in. She believed every word that had been said at this table, but should she? Shouldn’t she doubt? Shouldn’t she do what she had always told everyone else: Ask the next question?
Is it real, is this the truth, or does it simply seem that way because I so want to believe?
She hesitated, then steeled herself to ask.
“Can you show me a different you?”
The Lady frowned. “Normally I would not even consider such a request, but for you . . . what would you prefer?”
“How about . . .”—something way different—“an Inuit woman?”
Mrs. Clevenger blurred, then sharpened to a shorter, darker-skinned woman with almond eyes and black hair braided into two long pigtails. She looked to be in her twenties and was snuggled in a fur-lined parka.
The dog barked and Weezy looked to see a large male husky standing on four legs and wagging its tail.
“Another question,” Jack said. “You’re always with a dog. Why a dog?”
She shrugged and spoke in a younger, softer voice. “He’s my male counterpart. Just as something in the consciousness of the noosphere demands I appear as female—”
“The eternal feminine,” Weezy said. It explained so much ancient mythology.
“Perhaps. But the noosphere demands that he appear as a male dog. I don’t know why. I am supposedly his mistress, but he doesn’t always listen.”
She picked up a knife from the table and held it before her, staring at the blade as she rotated it back and forth. Then she plunged it through the palm of her other hand.
Weezy let out a yelp of shock. “Ohmygod!”
The Lady smiled. “Not to worry. I do not eat or drink, and I cannot be hurt in the usual sense.” She removed the knife and the skin immediately sealed itself. “But I can be hurt.”
She rose and shed the parka, revealing small, dark-tipped breasts.
Weezy heard Jack say, “Yikes,” but she could not take her eyes off the deep dimple in the Lady’s abdomen to the right of the navel, wide enough to admit two fingertips.
Then she turned and Weezy gasped as she saw her back. The skin was pocked with hundreds of punctate scars and crisscrossed with fine red lines connecting them. She noticed another dimple in the small of her back, similar to the one in front. For a second she thought she saw light flash within it, but that couldn’t be.
She shook her head. Couldn’t be? What did that mean anymore?
Neither Jack nor Veilleur seemed surprised, although Jack looked uncomfortable. He’d apparently seen it before.
“What . . . what happened?”
“Opus Omega,” she said, then pointed to the Compendium. “You will read about it in there.”
Again that instantaneous flash from the dimple. Weezy cocked her head and leaned a little to the right—and froze as she saw light from the window.
The dimple was a tunnel, a through-and-through passage.
Weezy didn’t ask about that . . . wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“All about it?” she asked.
The Lady raised the parka back over her shoulders. It was closed when she turned to face her.
“Much of it. The Compendium is ancient and long out of date. Jack knows some of what is not in there. He can fill you in. Study it well, Weezy.”
“And keep a special eye out for this,” Veilleur said, speaking for the first time since they’d sat down.
He passed her a slip of paper on which he’d written a strange word: Fhinntmanchca.
“What is it?”
“A legend. See what, if anything, the Compendium has to say about it.”
“I don’t think she should be wasting her time on things that never were and never shall be,” the Lady said.
Veilleur shrugged. “There’s been an Alarm about it. We can’t ignore it.”
The Lady turned to Weezy. “Absorb all you can. Use your brain to help us thwart the Adversary.”
The charge overwhelmed her. “Me? What can I do that you can’t? What can I learn that you don’t already know?”
“I have blind spots. Many things that involve the Ally and the Otherness are shielded from me.”
“Like the Fhinntmanchca, perhaps?” Veilleur said, a smile peeking through his beard.