Xenocide Part 45

"Sanskrit for life," Olhado explained to Valentine. "The word for the philote who controls a pattern that holds other philotes in order. The word for ent.i.ties-- like planets and atoms and animals and stars-- that have an intrinsic, enduring form."

"Jane is an aiua aiua, not just a program. So she can be a knower. She can incorporate the stars.h.i.+p as a pattern within her own pattern. She can digest it and contain it and it will still be real. She makes it part of herself and knows it as perfectly and unconsciously as your aiua aiua knows your own body and holds it together. Then she can carry it with her Outside and back Inside again." knows your own body and holds it together. Then she can carry it with her Outside and back Inside again."

"So Jane has to go?" asked Valentine.

"If this can be done at all, it'll be done because Jane travels with the s.h.i.+p, yes," said Grego.

"How?" asked Valentine. "We can't exactly go pick her up and carry her with us in a bucket."

"This is something Andrew learned from the Hive Queen," said Grego. "She actually exists in a particular place-- that is, her aiua aiua has a specific location in our s.p.a.ce." has a specific location in our s.p.a.ce."

"Where?"

"Inside Andrew Wiggin."

It took a while for them to explain to her what Ender had learned about Jane from the Hive Queen. It was strange to think of this computer ent.i.ty as being centered inside Ender's body, but it made a kind of sense that Jane had been created by the Hive Queens during Ender's campaign against them. To Valentine, though, there was another, immediate consequence. If the faster-than-light s.h.i.+p could only go where Jane took it, and Jane was inside Ender, there could be only one conclusion.

"Then Andrew Andrew has to go?" has to go?"

"Claro. Of course," said Grego.

"He's a little old to be a test pilot," said Valentine.

"In this case he's only a test pa.s.senger pa.s.senger," said Grego. "He just happens to hold the pilot inside him."

"It's not as if the voyage will have any physical stress," said Olhado. "If Grego's theory works out exactly right, he'll just sit there and after a couple of minutes or actually a microsecond or two, he'll be in the other place. And if it doesn't work at all, he'll just stay right here, with all of us feeling foolish for thinking we could wish our way through s.p.a.ce."

"And if it turns out Jane can get him Outside but can't hold things together there, then he'll be stranded in a place that doesn't even have any placeness to it," said Valentine.

"Well, yes," said Grego. "If it works halfway, the pa.s.sengers are effectively dead. But since we'll be in a place without time, it won't matter to us. It'll just be an eternal instant. Probably not enough time for our brains to notice that the experiment failed. Stasis."

"Of course, if it works works," said Olhado, "then we'll carry our own s.p.a.cetime with us, so there would would be duration. Therefore, we'll never know if we fail. We'll only notice if we succeed." be duration. Therefore, we'll never know if we fail. We'll only notice if we succeed."

"But I'll I'll know if he never comes back," said Valentine. know if he never comes back," said Valentine.

"Right," said Grego. "If he never comes back, then you'll have a few months of knowing it until the fleet gets here and blasts everything and everybody all to h.e.l.l."

"Or until the descolada turns everybody's genes inside out and kills us all," added Olhado.

"I suppose you're right," said Valentine. "Failure won't kill them any deader than they'll be if they stay."

"But you see the deadline pressure that we're under," said Grego. "We don't have much time left before Jane loses her ansible connections. Andrew says that she might well survive it after all-- but she'll be crippled. Brain-damaged."

"So even if it works, the first flight might be the last."

"No," said Olhado. "The flights are instantaneous instantaneous. If it works, she can shuttle everybody off this planet in no more time than it takes people to get in and out of the stars.h.i.+p."

"You mean it can take off from a planet surface surface?"

"That's still iffy," said Grego. "She might only be able to calculate location within, say ten thousand kilometers. There's no explosion or displacement problem, since the philotes will reenter Inside s.p.a.ce ready to obey natural laws again. But if the stars.h.i.+p reappears in the middle of a planet it'll still be pretty hard to dig to the surface."

"But if she can be really precise-- within a couple of centimeters, for instance-- then the flights can be surface-to-surface," said Olhado.

"Of course we're dreaming," said Grego. "Jane's going to come back and tell us that even if she could turn all the stellar ma.s.s in the galaxy into computer chips, she couldn't hold all the data she'd have to know in order to make a stars.h.i.+p travel this way. But at the moment, it still sounds possible and I am feeling good good!"

At that, Grego and Olhado started whooping and laughing so loud that Mayor Kovano came to the door to make sure Valentine was all right. To her embarra.s.sment, he caught her laughing and whooping right along with them.

"Are we happy, then?" asked Kovano.

"I guess," said Valentine, trying to recover her composure.

"Which of our many problems have we solved?"

"Probably none of them," said Valentine. "It would be too idiotically convenient if the universe could be manipulated to work this way."

"But you've thought of something something."

"The metaphysical geniuses here have a completely unlikely possibility," said Valentine. "Unless you slipped them something really weird in their lunch."

Kovano laughed and left them alone. But his visit had had the effect of sobering them again.

"Is it possible?" asked Valentine. it possible?" asked Valentine.

"I would never have thought so," said Grego. "I mean, there's the problem of origin."

"It actually answers answers the problem of origin," said Olhado. "The Big Bang theory's been around since--" the problem of origin," said Olhado. "The Big Bang theory's been around since--"

"Since before I I was born," said Valentine. was born," said Valentine.

"I guess," said Olhado. "What n.o.body's been able to figure out is why a Big Bang would ever happen. This way it makes a weird kind of sense. If somebody who was capable of holding the pattern of the entire universe in his head stepped Outside, then all the philotes there would sort themselves out into the largest place in the pattern that they could control. Since there's no time there, they could take a billion years or a microsecond, all the time they needed, and then when it was sorted out, bam, there they are, the whole universe, popping out into a new Inside s.p.a.ce. And since there's no distance or position-- no whereness-- then the entire thing would begin the size of a geometric point--"

"No size at all all," said Grego.

"I remember my geometry," said Valentine.

"And immediately expand, creating s.p.a.ce as it grew. As it grew, time would seem to slow down-- or do I mean speed up?"

"It doesn't matter," said Grego. "It all depends whether you're Inside the new s.p.a.ce or Outside or in some other Ins.p.a.ce."

"Anyway, the universe now seems to be constant in time while it's expanding in s.p.a.ce. But if you wanted to, you could just as easily see it as constant in size but changing in time time. The speed of light is slowing down so that it takes longer to get from one place to another, only we can't tell that it's slowing down because everything else slows down exactly relative to the speed of light. You see? All a matter of perspective. For that matter, as Grego said before, the universe we live in is still, in absolute terms, exactly the size of a geometric point-- when you look at it from Outside. Any growth that seems to take place on the Inside is just a matter of relative location and time."

"And what kills me," said Grego, "is that this is the kind of thing that's been going on inside Olhado's head all these years. This picture of the universe as a dimensionless point in Outside s.p.a.ce is the way he's been thinking all along. Not that he's the first to think of it. Just that he's the one who actually believed it and saw the connection between that and the non-place where Andrew says the Hive Queen goes to find aiuas aiuas."

"As long as we're playing metaphysical games," said Valentine, "then where did this whole thing begin? If what we think of as reality is just a pattern that somebody brought Outside, and the universe just popped into being, then whoever it was is probably still wandering around giving off universes wherever she goes. So where did she she come from? And what was there before she started doing it? And how did Outside come to exist, for that matter?" come from? And what was there before she started doing it? And how did Outside come to exist, for that matter?"

"That's Ins.p.a.ce thinking," said Olhado. "That's the way you conceive of things when you still believe in s.p.a.ce and time as absolutes. You think of everything starting and stopping, of things having origins, because that's the way it is in the observable universe. The thing is, Outside there're no rules like that at all. Outside was always there and always will be there. The number of philotes there is infinite, and all of them always existed. No matter how many of them you pull out and put into organized universes, there'll be just as many left as there always were."

"But somebody had to start start making universes." making universes."

"Why?" asked Olhado.

"Because-- because I--"

"n.o.body ever ever started. It's always been going on. I mean, if it weren't already going on, it started. It's always been going on. I mean, if it weren't already going on, it couldn't couldn't start. Outside where there aren't any patterns, it would be impossible to conceive of a pattern. They start. Outside where there aren't any patterns, it would be impossible to conceive of a pattern. They can't can't act, by definition, because they literally can't even find themselves." act, by definition, because they literally can't even find themselves."

"But how could it always have been going on?"

"Think of it as if this moment in time, the reality we live in at this moment, this condition of the entire universe-- of all all the universes--" the universes--"

"You mean now now."

"Right. Think of it as if now now were the surface of a sphere. Time is moving forward through the chaos of Outside like the surface of an expanding sphere, a balloon inflating. On the outside, chaos. On the inside, reality. Always growing-- like you said, Valentine. Popping up new universes all the time." were the surface of a sphere. Time is moving forward through the chaos of Outside like the surface of an expanding sphere, a balloon inflating. On the outside, chaos. On the inside, reality. Always growing-- like you said, Valentine. Popping up new universes all the time."

"But where did this balloon come from?"

"OK, you've got the balloon. The expanding sphere. Only now think of it as a sphere with an infinite radius."

Valentine tried to think what that would mean. "The surface would be completely flat."

"That's right."

"And you could never go all the way around it."

"That's right, too. Infinitely large. Impossible even to count all the universes that exist on the reality side. And now, starting from the edge, you get on a stars.h.i.+p and start heading inward toward the center. The farther in you go, the older everything is. All the old universes, back and back. When do you get to the first one?"

"You don't," said Valentine. "Not if you're traveling at a finite rate."

"You don't reach the center of a sphere of infinite radius, if you're starting at the surface, because no matter how far you go, no matter how quickly, the center, the beginning, is always infinitely far away."

"And that's where the universe began."

"I believe it," said Olhado. "I think it's true."

"So the universe works this way because it's always worked this way," said Valentine.

"Reality works this way because that's what reality is. Anything that doesn't work this way pops back into chaos. Anything that does, comes across into reality. The dividing line is always there."

"What I love," said Grego, "is the idea that after we've started tootling around at instantaneous speeds in our our reality, what's to stop us from finding others? Whole new universes?" reality, what's to stop us from finding others? Whole new universes?"

"Or making making others," said Olhado. others," said Olhado.

"Right," said Grego. "As if you or I could actually hold a pattern for a whole universe in our minds."

"But maybe Jane Jane could," said Olhado. "Couldn't she?" could," said Olhado. "Couldn't she?"

"What you're saying," said Valentine, "is that maybe Jane is G.o.d."

"She's probably listening right now," said Grego. "The computer's on, even if the display is blocked. I'll bet she's getting a kick out of this."

"Maybe every universe lasts long enough to produce something like Jane," said Valentine. "And then she goes out and creates more and--"

"It goes on and on," said Olhado. "Why not?"

"But she's an accident accident," said Valentine.

"No," said Grego. "That's one of the things Andrew found out today. You've got to talk to him. Jane was no accident. For all we know there are are no accidents. For all we know, everything was all part of the pattern from the start." no accidents. For all we know, everything was all part of the pattern from the start."

"Everything except ourselves," said Valentine. "Our-- what's the word for the philote that controls us?"

"Aiua," said Grego. He spelled it out for her.

"Yes," she said. "Our will will, anyway, which always existed, with whatever strengths and weaknesses it has. And that's why, as long as we're part of the pattern of reality, we're free."

"Sounds like the ethicist is getting into the act," said Olhado.

"This is probably complete bobagem bobagem," said Grego. "Jane's going to come back laughing at us. But Nossa Senhora Nossa Senhora, it's fun fun, isn't it?"

"Hey, for all we know, maybe that's why the universe exists in the first place," said Olhado. "Because going around through chaos popping out realities is a lark. Maybe G.o.d's been having the best time."

"Or maybe he's just waiting for Jane to get out there and keep him company," said Valentine.

It was Miro's turn with Planter. Late-- after midnight. Not that he could sit by him and hold his hand. Inside the cleanroom, Miro had to wear a suit, not to keep contamination out, but to keep the descolada virus he carried inside himself from getting to Planter.

If I just cracked my suit a little bit, thought Miro, I could save his life.

In the absence of the descolada, the breakdown of Planter's body was rapid and devastating. They all knew that the descolada had messed with the pequenino reproductive cycle, giving the pequeninos their third life as trees, but until now it hadn't been clear how much of their daily life depended on the descolada. Whoever designed this virus was a coldhearted monster of efficiency. Without the descolada's daily, hourly, minutely minutely intervention, cells began to become sluggish, the production of vital energy-storing molecules stopped, and-- what they feared most-- the synapses of the brain fired less rapidly. Planter was rigged with tubes and electrodes, and he lay inside several scanning fields, so that from the outside Ela and her pequenino a.s.sistants could monitor every aspect of his dying. In addition, there were tissue samples every hour or so around the clock. His pain was so great that when he slept at all, the taking of tissue samples didn't wake him. And yet through all this-- the pain, the quasi-stroke that was afflicting his brain-- Planter remained doggedly lucid. As if he were determined by sheer force of will to prove that even without the descolada, a pequenino could be intelligent. Planter wasn't doing this for science, of course. He was doing it for dignity. intervention, cells began to become sluggish, the production of vital energy-storing molecules stopped, and-- what they feared most-- the synapses of the brain fired less rapidly. Planter was rigged with tubes and electrodes, and he lay inside several scanning fields, so that from the outside Ela and her pequenino a.s.sistants could monitor every aspect of his dying. In addition, there were tissue samples every hour or so around the clock. His pain was so great that when he slept at all, the taking of tissue samples didn't wake him. And yet through all this-- the pain, the quasi-stroke that was afflicting his brain-- Planter remained doggedly lucid. As if he were determined by sheer force of will to prove that even without the descolada, a pequenino could be intelligent. Planter wasn't doing this for science, of course. He was doing it for dignity.

The real researchers couldn't spare time to take a s.h.i.+ft as the inside worker, wearing the suit and just sitting there, watching him, talking to him. Only people like Miro, and Jakt's and Valentine's children-- Syfte, Lars, Ro, Varsam-- and the strange quiet woman Plikt; people who had no other urgent duties to attend to, who were patient enough to endure the waiting and young enough to handle their duties with precision-- only such people were given s.h.i.+fts. They might have added a fellow pequenino to the s.h.i.+ft, but all the brothers who knew enough about human technologies to do the job right were part of Ela's or Ouanda's teams, and had too much work to do. Of all those who spent time inside the cleanroom with him, taking tissue samples, feeding him, changing bottles, cleaning him up, only Miro had known pequeninos well enough to communicate with them. Miro could speak to him in Brothers' Language. That had to be of some comfort to him, even if they were virtual strangers, Planter having been born after Miro left Lusitania on his thirty-year voyage.

Planter was not asleep. His eyes were half-open, looking at nothing, but Miro knew from the movement of his lips that he was speaking. Reciting to himself pa.s.sages from some of the epics of his tribe. Sometimes he chanted sections of the tribal genealogy. When he first started doing this, Ela had worried that he was becoming delirious. But he insisted that he was doing it to test his memory. To make sure that in losing the descolada he wasn't losing his tribe-- which would be the same as losing himself.

Right now, as Miro turned up the volume inside his suit, he could hear Planter telling the story of some terrible war with the forest of Skysplitter, the "tree who called thunder." There was a digression in the middle of the war-story that told how Skysplitter got his name. This part of the tale sounded very old and mythic, a magical story about a brother who carried little mothers to the place where the sky fell open and the stars tumbled through onto the ground. Though Miro had been lost in his own thoughts about the day's discoveries-- the origin of Jane, Grego's and Olhado's idea of travel-by-wish-- for some reason he found himself paying close attention to the words that Planter was saying. And as the story ended, Miro had to interrupt.

"How old is that story?"

"Old," whispered Planter. "You were listening?"

"To the last part of it." It was all right to talk to Planter at length. Either he didn't grow impatient with the slowness of Miro's speech-- after all, Planter wasn't going anywhere-- or his own cognitive processes had slowed to match Miro's halting pace. Either way, Planter let Miro finish his own sentences, and answered him as if he had been listening carefully. "Did I understand you to say that this Skysplitter carried little mothers with him?"

"That's right," whispered Planter.