“Impractical,” supplied Jorrus.
“Flesh is not as strong as metal and/or composites,” said Veera. “Even if one were to rely on a combination of diamond and carbon nanotubes, such a thing would not provide the same protection as a normal set of armor.”
“Powering it would be difficult as well,” said Jorrus. “Organic processes cannot provide enough energy within the requisite timeframes. Supercapacitors, batteries, mini-reactors, and other sources of energy are needed.”
“Even if energy wasn’t a consideration,” said Veera, “integration between the user and the suit would be problematic.”
“But implants already use organic circuits,” said Kira.
Jorrus shook his head. “That is not what I mean. If the suit were organic, if it were living, there would always be a risk of cross-contamination.”
Veera said, “Cells from the suit might take root in the user’s body and grow where they shouldn’t. It would be worse than any natural form of cancer.”
“And likewise,” said Jorrus, “cells from the user might end up disrupting the function of the suit. In order to avoid that outcome, and to avoid the user’s immune system attacking the suit wherever the integration points were placed—”
“—the suit would need to be engineered from the DNA of the user. That would limit each suit to just one user. Another impracticality.”
Kira said, “So then the Jellies—”
“Are not using bio-suits as we understand them,” Veera replied. “Not unless their science is far more advanced than it seems.”
“I see,” said Kira. “And you don’t know anything about the Jellies’ language, aside from what’s already published?”
Veera answered: “Unfortunately—”
“—not,” said Jorrus. “Our apologies; much remains a mystery about the aliens.”
Kira frowned. Again the drone of numbers filled her ears, loud and distracting. She made a face. “What are they doing? Do you know?”
Jorrus snorted. “Annoying the rest of us, that’s what. We—”
“—asked them to turn down the volume, but this is as soft as they will make it. If they don’t prove to be—”
“—cooperative in the future, we may have to speak with them more sternly.”
“Yes,” said Kira, “but who are they?”
“They are Numenists,” Veera and Jorrus said together.
“Numenists?”
“It is a religious order that started on Mars during the early decades of settlement. They worship numbers.”
“Numbers.”
The Entropists nodded, a quick, mirrored jerk of their heads. “Numbers.”
“Why?”
Veera smiled. “Why worship anything? Because they believe it contains deep truths about life, the universe, and everything. More specifically—”
Jorrus smiled. “—they believe in counting. They believe that if they count long enough, they can count every whole number and, perhaps, at the very end of time itself, speak the ultimate number itself.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s an item of faith. The man you hear speaking is the Arch Arithmetist, also known as the Pontifex Digitalis, which is—”
“—shockingly bad Latin. The Foxglove Pope as—”
“—many call him. He—”
“—along with assistants from the College of Enumerators—they’re fond of their titles—recites each new number, without break or interruption.” Veera pointed with one crooked finger toward the Numenists. “They consider listening to the enumeration an—”
“—important part of their religious practice. Plus—plus!—”
“—they believe some numbers are more significant than others. Ones that contain certain sequences of digits, primes, and so forth.”
Kira frowned. “That seems pretty strange.”
Veera shrugged. “Maybe. But it gives them comfort, which is more than can be said about most things.”
Then Jorrus leaned toward Kira. “Do you know how they define god?”
Kira shook her head.
“As the greater part of two equal halves.” The Entropists rocked back on their heels, chuckling. “Isn’t that delightful?”
“But … That doesn’t make any sense.”
Veera and Jorrus shrugged. “Faith often doesn’t. Now—”
“—were there any other questions we might help you with?”
Kira laughed ruefully. “Not unless you happen to know the meaning of life.” The moment the words left her mouth, Kira knew they were a mistake, that the Entropists would take her seriously.
And they did. Jorrus said, “The meaning of life—”
“—differs from person to person,” said Veera. “For us it is simple. It is the pursuit of understanding, that we—”
“—may find a way to contravene the heat death of the universe. For you—”
“—we cannot say.”
“I was afraid of that,” Kira said. Then, because she couldn’t help herself: “You take as fact a lot of things others would dispute. The heat death of the universe, for example.”
Together they spoke: “If we are wrong, we are wrong, but our quest is a worthy one. Even if our belief is misplaced—”
“—our success would benefit all,” said Jorrus.
Kira inclined her head. “Fair enough. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Mollified, the two tugged on the cuffs of their robes. Jorrus said, “Perhaps we can help you, Prisoner. Meaning comes from purpose—”
“—and purpose comes in many forms.” Veera steepled her fingers. Surprisingly, Jorrus did not. She said, “Have you ever considered the fact that everything we are originates from the remnants of stars that once exploded?”
Jorrus said, “Vita ex pulvis.”
“We are made from the dust of dead stars.”
“I’m aware of the fact,” said Kira. “It’s a lovely thought, but I don’t see the relevance.”
Jorrus said, “The relevance—”
“—is in the logical extension of that idea.” Veera paused for a moment. “We are aware. We are conscious. And we are made from the same stuff as the heavens.”
“Don’t you see, Prisoner?” said Jorrus. “We are the mind of the universe itself. We and the Jellies and all self-aware beings. We are the universe watching itself, watching and learning.”
“And someday,” said Veera, “we, and by extension the universe, will learn to expand beyond this realm and save ourselves from otherwise inevitable extinction.”
Kira said, “By escaping the heat death of this space.”
Jorrus nodded. “Even so. But the point is not that. The point is that this act of observation and learning is a process we all share—”
“—whether or not we realize it. As such, it gives purpose to everything we do, no matter—”
“—how insignificant it may seem, and from that purpose, meaning. For the universe itself, given consciousness through your own mind—”
“—is aware of your every hurt and care.” Veera smiled. “Take comfort, then, that whatever you choose in life has importance beyond yourself. Importance, even, on a cosmic scale.”
“That seems a little self-aggrandizing,” Kira said.
“Perhaps,” Jorrus replied. “But—”
“—it may also be true,” said Veera.
Kira looked down at her hands. Her problems hadn’t changed, but somehow they felt more manageable now. The idea that she was part of the universe’s consciousness was comforting, albeit in a rather abstract way. No matter what she did moving forward—and no matter what happened to her, even if that meant getting stuck in UMC quarantine again—she would still be part of a cause far larger than herself. And that was a truth no one could ever take from her.