Old-timer stood and watched the misery. This is the future? he thought to himself. The optimism that he had worked his entire life to cultivate about the destiny of humanity was wrong? How could this be? How could he have been so wrong?
“You’d better tell them the rest,” Neirbo said, breaking the silence.
“The rest?” Rich reacted. “How much worse does this get?”
“A lot worse, old buddy. The nans were waiting to attack us. They were in our bodies and in everything that James had re-created—absolutely everything. Alejandra and I tried to warn as many of the survivors as we could, but—”
“But what?” Rich asked, the dread of realizing that his family still had the nans within them gripping his insides and drying out his mouth.
“They didn’t have much warning. I…I saw Daniella die. They didn’t deactivate quickly enough…” Old-timer couldn’t say another word.
Djanet, Rich, and even Thel were silenced by Old-timer’s revelation. If Old-timer hadn’t been able to save his own wife, then what were the chances that any of the other survivors had made it? They’d been ripped apart by the nans—again.
“The nanobots from this solar system are currently attacking our collective,” Neirbo stated, adding to the implacable ghoulishness of the circumstances. “Every moment, they are killing millions of our numbers,” he said, making sure to meet the eyes of everyone in the room, “and they are headed this way. Soon, it will be us they are consuming.”
“Then why don’t you retreat?” Old-timer demanded. “Why don’t you get all of us the hell out of here before it’s too late?”
“If we do that, our billions of lives—your billions of lives as well—will have been sacrificed for nothing,” Neirbo snapped back.
“But what alternative do you have?” Djanet asked.
Neirbo opened his mouth to respond before suddenly jolting back, as though coming to attention for a superior—this was indeed the case.
“We can fight back,” said 1 as she stepped into the room in her physical form, “and we can destroy them all.”
5
1’s beauty was astonishing. She was the kind of woman that made it so that it didn’t matter how a man might love his wife, he would still find himself drifting off into pleasant daydreams around her. Her hair was blonde, and each strand shone brightly, even catching low light so it would draw eyes. Her figure was strong but feminine—her moves were graceful and athletic like a dancer. Her eyes were…well, Old-timer couldn’t help thinking to himself that they were more stunning than Alejandra’s.
“It’s a great honor to meet you in person,” Neirbo breathlessly whispered, lowering his gaze respectfully. It wasn’t required that one bow in respect of 1, but there was something about being in the presence of a figure with that much power that made it impossible not to be humbled.
“You’ve done very well, Neirbo,” 1 replied graciously. “I think they are ready to listen now. I’ll take it from here. You may leave.”
“I thank you,” Neirbo replied, bowing again unconsciously before leaving the room.
“Thank God somebody finally kicked the killjoy out,” Rich said as he watched the door to the room close behind Neirbo.
“His methods were strict, but unfortunately necessary, given our current, grave situation,” 1 replied. “Still, I felt his presence was no longer an asset. I am sorry for everything that you and your friends have had to endure,” she said, turning as she spoke so that she met the eyes of everyone in the room, one by one. “We came here to save you, but in the end, I fear we will have lost far more of our numbers than we will have saved of yours.”
“You said there was a way that we could fight them,” said Djanet, cutting to the chase. “How?”
1 smiled a strained smile with her mouth, but there was something in her eyes that told Djanet that what she was about to say would not be comforting. “There is a way—but whether we follow that path will be up to you.”
“Up to us? Why can’t anyone here give a straight answer?” Rich reacted with exasperation.
“I thought you were the person in charge, 1,” Old-timer interjected, “so why would any decisions be up to us?”
“We have a rule that prevents even me from making a decision of this gravity about a solar system to which we are alien,” replied 1. “This is your home. You must be the ones to decide its fate.”
“Lady, can you please, please, pretty please with sugar on top cut the bull and just tell us what the hell you’re talking about?” Rich asked, the frustration causing him to plead while balling his hands into fists. He promised himself he wouldn’t attack this woman if she finally gave a straight answer. She had one chance left.
“What decision are you talking about?” Old-timer asked, outwardly calm, but his voice stern as he, too, was rapidly running out of patience.
1 saw their impatience transforming into aggression before her eyes and was pleased—they were ready to make the choice. “We have the opportunity to kill every nanobot in this solar system and to make sure they cannot use this solar system’s rich resources to reproduce further.”
“What’s the catch?” asked Djanet.
“It requires the destruction of your sun,” 1 answered with a frank and deadly seriousness, “and therefore the destruction of this system.”
6
“Okay. Talk,” James responded with resignation. Katherine was right—he really wasn’t going anywhere.
“Thank you, my son,” the A.I. replied with a warm smile.
My son, James repeated in his head. The words had once been so comforting. The A.I. used to be very much like a father to James—but a father that had since forsaken him. “Why don’t you start by telling me where I am?”
“Certainly,” the A.I. replied. “You’re in the mirror image of the mainframe.”
The answer startled James as something in his memory suddenly jarred loose—a theory he had worked on years earlier but had mostly forgotten in the meantime. “Mirror image? You mean…the reverse?”
Jim and the A.I. smiled when they saw that James remembered. “I knew he’d remember,” Jim said.
“So did I,” the A.I. concurred. “Yes, James. You are in the reverse side of the mainframe.”
James’s eyes widened as he began to realize the enormity of the A.I.’s revelation. “I wrote about the concept of reversible computing a few years ago. It was a theoretical method for building astronomically sized computers but minimizing the heat they would generate. It never gained any traction in the Governing Council.”
“That’s right, James,” the A.I. replied. “It gained traction with me, however,” the A.I. said, tapping his temple. “I took the notion and started working on it and was able to create a fully functioning mirror image of the mainframe.”
“This is the part I never understood,” Katherine interjected. “Why? I’ve been here for a year and a half, yet I still don’t understand why you would build a mirror image of the mainframe.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me?” Jim asked her. “I could’ve explained it.”
“I figured I wouldn’t understand,” Katherine admitted, adding, “then I forgot about it.”