11
Old-timer gazed through the see-through skin of the android ship’s hull. The storm of nans formed a pillar that was more than a light minute in height. It looked like a beautiful celestial gas formation, the sun gleaming off one side while the other side cast an unnatural night—on the dark side was hell. That was where the nans were slashing and tearing through the android collective. Every second, a million people died a meaningless, agonizing death. The pillar was so massive that it appeared like a still painting—but as Old-timer remained fixed upon it, he could see it change ever so subtly, the way golden clouds would shift above him as he lay on his back on the beach at Corpus Christi. Every subtle change in the shape of the nan cloud, however, indicated a vicious shift in the microscopic attack against the androids. Anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end had no chance. One’s only hope was that the nanobots didn’t come their way.
“Three minutes until departure,” Neirbo announced in his typically gravelly and monotone voice. In addition to Neirbo, there were seven other androids onboard. Old-timer immediately thought of Neirbo’s explanation for why Alejandra had sensed such terrible danger when she entered the torture room with him—he sensed something similar.
“They fixed my face up fine,” Rich said suddenly, putting his hand on Old-timer’s back in a gesture of reconciliation.
“Looks good,” Old-timer replied. He thought of forcing a smile but couldn’t will it to happen.
“No hard feelings, right?” Rich asked.
“Of course not,” Old-timer answered. “Never.”
“Good,” Rich said with a nod. He followed Old-timer’s eye line and observed the nan cloud—it had shifted from the form of a pillar into something resembling a mushroom cloud. “I hate those things.”
Old-timer didn’t react. He felt numb. Something was seriously wrong.
“Hey,” Rich began, sensing his friend’s torment, “this is our chance to get at least some payback. I’m going to miss our home too, but those little freaks have already taken it from us. The least we can do is give them a receipt.”
Old-timer didn’t respond.
Rich, expecting, at the very least, some sort of retort, suddenly began to feel Old-timer’s dread. “Are you going to be okay?”
Old-timer took his eyes off of the cloud and then turned slightly, scanning over the androids who were hovering over the anti-matter missile that had recently been lowered into position. “Rich,” Old-timer whispered, “keep your eyes peeled.”
12
“We have to hurry,” Jim said in reaction to the A.I.’s revelation that time was now, at once, both their only friend and their worst enemy.
“I have one more question first,” James announced, stopping Jim in his tracks. James turned to the A.I. “If you have Jim here, who has all of my abilities, why did you have to wait for my arrival to put your plan into action?”
“The reason is because, my son,” the A.I. began, “like me, you were deleted while occupying the operator’s position in the mainframe. The reversible side of the mainframe does have some limitations, and one of those is that one cannot transcend their position at the time of deletion. Jim cannot access control of the mainframe, while you, on the other hand, can.”
“There can be two operators at once?”
“Yes,” the A.I. responded, “and our plan requires that there be two beings in control of the Trans-Human program at its inception.”
“Why two?” Jim asked.
“The detonation of the anti-matter missile, in combination with the Trans-Human program, will initiate a paradox chain reaction. At first, it will be the universe’s greatest and most efficient computer, and one of us must physically be there to run the program. This, of course, will require that you be simultaneously linked to the mainframe.”
“And what’s your part in this?” James asked.
“I’ll remain here. I will ask Trans-Human to reverse itself and, once the reversal begins, I will be encapsulated in a firewall that will remain in our current time,” the A.I. explained. “Remember, we are running time backward, so after the detonation, the blast radius will suck the solar system into the past. You’ll physically be too close to the explosion to escape it. You’re going to go back in time as well, and your consciousness will not be able to exist in both time frames at once.”
“What if you came with me and we terminated the signal and used Death’s Counterfeit to abandon our physical bodies and return to the mainframe?” James suggested.
“The blast will have so much initial force that it’s almost certain that our signals would be caught in the wake and we would both end up caught in the time warp. This must not happen. If we successfully run time backward and no one remains protected against its effects, then we will be doomed to simply repeat the same errors.”
“Will Jim and I be protected too?” Katherine asked.
“Yes,” the A.I. replied. “Everything in the reversed mainframe will be protected by the firewall and will remain in our current time.”
James nodded. “I understand now. It’ll take teamwork.”
“It will take trust,” the A.I. echoed.
“So what do you say now, James?” asked Jim. “Are you onboard?”
James took a moment to think it over. Everything the A.I. had said made sense, yet James had been wrong in his judgments before. If this really was the A.I. and not a ruse, there was still the chance that it was simply trying to take control of the solar system for itself.
“This is the part where you use your reason, my son,” said the A.I.
James nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. If I help you and you’re deceiving me, I could lose everyone I’ve ever loved or cared about and die myself. If I do nothing, I’m guaranteed to lose everyone.” James sighed a heavy sigh, the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders again. “So I’ll have to trust that you’re not deceiving me. Okay, I’m on board.”
Jim smiled a wide grin as an equally happy expression painted itself across the A.I.’s countenance.
“There is one more thing,” the A.I. suddenly interjected.
“What’s that?” asked James.
“If you are going to be physically going on a mission to intercept the anti-matter missile, you are going to need a new body—one powerful enough to do the job.”
13
“We’re ready,” Neirbo declared. “Let’s initiate the launch,” he ordered his android companions. “Every second we wait here, more people are dying.”
“What’s our ETA for reaching our firing position?” Djanet asked.
“We’ll reach it in nine minutes,” Neirbo replied.
“Whoa,” Rich reacted. “How is that possible? Even at the speed of light, we couldn’t make it there that fast.”
“Wormholes,” Old-timer replied.
“If we’re going to use a wormhole,” Thel began, “then wouldn’t we reach our destination instantaneously?”
“No,” Neirbo replied. “The amount of energy required to make a wormhole big enough for this ship to get through limits how far the wormhole can go. Therefore, we’ll be using multiple, shorter wormholes to cut down the distance we have to travel.”
“Amazing,” Djanet observed. “It’s like suturing your way there, using a thread to pull the material of space together.”
“That’s how you were able to move so quickly into our solar system,” Thel realized. “Your technology is phenomenal. We’ve only ever been able to generate wormholes big enough for communication signals to pass through. To put large objects through is…like Djanet said: Amazing.”