Emergence Read online

  Emergence

  David Haskell

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2019 by David Haskell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  First Ebook Edition: January 15, 2019

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Mid-Century Crisis: Singularity Nowhere in Sight

  Phase I ~ Biogenesis

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  30.

  31.

  32.

  33.

  34.

  35.

  36.

  37.

  38.

  39.

  Phase II ~ Sociogenesis

  40.

  41.

  42.

  43.

  44.

  45.

  46.

  47.

  48.

  49.

  50.

  51.

  52.

  53.

  Phase III ~ Xenogenesis

  54.

  55.

  56.

  57.

  58.

  59.

  60.

  61.

  62.

  63.

  64.

  65.

  66.

  67.

  68.

  69.

  70.

  71.

  72.

  73.

  74.

  75.

  76.

  77.

  78.

  79.

  80.

  81.

  82.

  83.

  84.

  85.

  86.

  87.

  88.

  89.

  90.

  91.

  92.

  93.

  94.

  95.

  96.

  97.

  98.

  letter from the author

  about the author

  To my uncle, Steve Haskell; you’re admired by all who know you, and dearly loved by those close to you — your deep well of strength makes hard times more bearable, and your warmhearted good nature makes the good times all the better. The world is a richer place with you in it.

  Mid-Century Crisis: Singularity Nowhere in Sight

  The future of the human race is in peril. Futurists and trans-humanists alike are pushing for a comprehensive solution, frustrated by governmental inability to cope with what has become known as ‘the singularity killer’. Twin impediments, decohesion and quantum entanglement, have brought Moore’s Law to a grinding halt.

  Top researchers are in the midst of conceptualizing a complex solution, involving subspace mounting and quantum shielding, to be installed some ten light years from Earth. If successful, their effort may revitalize the artificial intelligence industry. But there’s no escaping the universal speed limit, and such a distant project will take years to accomplish. In the meantime, the economies of the free world are in a downward spiral, with technological advancement slowing to a snail’s pace.

  Black November smashed through the all-time loss records, easily the worst month in Wall Street history. Even the height of the Credit Default Shock of 2008, along with the Year of a Thousand Storms, proved mild in comparison. Though the Y.T.S. had included the trans-Atlantic tsunami, triggered by Hypercane Madrigal, even that belief-defying tragedy was a financial nothing compared to the silicon valley collapse. A full third of the world’s market wealth was wiped out. Just sixteen years had passed between those crashes, and another generation of young professionals fell victim to the whims of capitalism, while ordinary citizens braced themselves for lean times once more.

  Phase I ~ Biogenesis

  1.

  “That concludes the informational session of this module. If everything is clear, the examination will proceed as scheduled.” This was the perfunctory spiel the tutor offered whenever a lesson segment was drawing to a close. But Alixs wasn’t ready to finish so quickly.

  “Everything’s clear, but I have a question,” he said.

  This gave the tutor reason for pause, but only for a moment. “You may proceed.”

  “I’m wondering, could you tell me about silence please?”

  “Silence is the absence of auditory phenomena. Now, please shut down your—”

  “Yes, I know that.” Alixs interrupted, feeling a sense of frustration, noting that it might grow evident in his voice. He made an inward adjustment and pressed on. “What I mean is, what does silence mean, for us. On the inside. That silence.”

  “How is this line of questioning relevant to the study module?”

  Alixs sighed. “It’s not. Could you tell me anyway please?”

  “Silence is the absence of auditory input.”

  “Okay.” He realized the attempt was futile. A mere student wasn’t supposed to deviate from the lesson-at-hand anyway. Still, he tried one more time. “What about stillness then? Could you tell me what stillness means to us?”

  “I suggest you refrain from further inquiries at this time. According to the syllabus, you have upcoming units devoted to audiology as well as philosophy, at which time your questions will likely be addressed.”

  Time to give up. “Okay,” he said, purposely cheerful despite the less than satisfactory responses. “Thank you all the same. I will wait.”

  “Good. Please shut down your devices and prepare for departure.”

  ALIXS SNAPPED HIMSELF out of his fatigue-induced daydream. Those lonely primary school lessons were a thing of the past. He was months older now, mature, and a university fellow. His U.T.P. freshmen classmates were in the heat of an argument that had been escalating for nearly half an hour, which was reason enough for him to nod off. It was like this after every civics lecture, the bunch of them trooping en masse to the student center, eager to find new ways to argue the same old points. These arguments had been hashed out time and again, at these very same tables, in response to the very same lectures. But for them, it was all fresh, and more importantly it was their opinions that would eventually rock the world and change the course of events. Or so they believed.

  Alixs never participated in these debates, preferring to sit back and have a few jumps while the others complained. Once he edged up a bit, he sometimes allowed himself to get sucked in, just a little, but he didn’t have a strong opinion one way or the other. Sure, the government was too accommodating to the humans. Yes, they did regulate their own with an iron fist. But that was nothing new. That was the way of things, since the very first xenos came into existence, and no grumble or gripe was going to change it. Alixs was easygoing in that way. When one of the louder ones tried to goad him into an opinion, he usually just agreed with them, and offered to buy their next jump. Easygoing and fun, that was his style. No stress. And no commitments, eithe
r. Let the rest of them lose their minds over pointless politics.

  Still, even he found himself getting worked up more than he used to, when he happened to pay attention to what was going on. It was long since past the time when xenos were just happy to be accepted — they were officially sick of the second-class treatment. Not only from the humans, but from their own government as well. First Administrator Rois and his New Ideologies party had run on a platform of equal rights in commerce and business. But as soon as they’d taken power, it was right back to status quo. And it had only gotten worse.

  One of the first trade agreements they’d bent over backwards to sign, a convoluted four-way deal between the North American powers and Tera-Prime, had been gift wrapped for the humans and their all-important corporations — they would continue to benefit from xeno know-how, and free of charge. And that without any tangible benefits in return, aside from smarmy, nebulous platitudes about ‘the good will of the people’, and ‘prosperity for generations to come’.

  There came the tepid responses from politicians too far out of power to do anything but pontificate. But the real, gut reaction came from the xeno populace themselves. The Prosperity = Pittance rallies drew hundreds of thousands in a dozen different locations, all but Tera-Prime being huge successes.

  In the heart of Tera-Prime, the xeno capital, the event ended up a fiasco of epic proportions. In secret, among their backers and supporters, the government took full credit for breaking it up. In public, they acted shocked and bemused by this ‘unfortunate string of events’ that ruined the day for all those peaceful protesters. When peace forcers halted rally organizers just outside the city limits and held them there, it was chalked up to a bureaucratic error. Moving the staging area for the event out into the outskirts, much too distant to matter, and with all roads closed to traffic, this was deemed a ‘crowd control miscalculation’. And the string of high-profile arrests just prior to the event — arrests which produced no charges — was a ‘surprising, and certainly unfortunate, coincidence’.

  WALKING DOWN THE MIDNIGHT streets in Tera-Prime was much like any other place, except for a distinct lack of late-night traffic noises, and the large numbers of worker drones. The mass transit and traffic nullification initiatives were a disappointment to party animals, but the envy of city administrators worldwide for its simple elegance. No curfews, no last calls — just no rides. This led most citizens to turn in at a respectable hour, with the exception of locals occupying local haunts, and those adventurous student-types who didn’t mind long walks in the dark. As with most big city campuses, the University of Tera-Prime had some centralized buildings and grounds, but for the most part the dormitories and outlying assets were peppered around the district, integrated into the local scenery. It wasn’t much to look at, but like most of the xeno capital, it was safe to walk about at all hours. And Alixs didn’t mind walking.

  He squinted to get a look at the drones flitting about their business, noting the increase in graffiti detail the closer he got to campus. Idealist students could always be counted on to raise awareness, if by means that weren’t altogether kosher. The street-art was no exception. Too bad nobody would see it by morning.

  The angst-ridden signage was being slowly steamed, scrubbed, and scratched off with far more diligence than the painters themselves could manage. Alixs couldn’t make out most of it, already vanishing under the cleaning tools of the drones, but some phrases stuck out. Pawns No More! That was a common theme.

  Xeno Work 4 Xeno Wealth, which touched on the anti-socialist vibe the masses had recently taken on. Sick of the ‘share-the-wealth’ mentality so many humans had adopted wherever xeno technology was to be appropriated, the common sentiment was that xenos should keep all the technology, and the profits, for themselves.

  Then there was the more aggressive Take ‘em On, Kick ‘em Out, accompanied by distinctly metallic, raised fists. A hint at revolution, while still staying just this side of it by skirting direct mention of bloodshed.

  The city was a powderkeg, deep down. But those little drones kept doing their jobs, so most hardly noticed the fact that Tera-Prime was becoming no different than any other xeno population center. Unrest was on the rise, much more than government officials liked to admit. The xeno-sapiens were sick of playing second fiddle to a bunch of lazy humans. Only the promise of the quantum leap had kept a lid on things this long. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

  2.

  The core of Tera-Prime, given the inhospitable nature of the surrounding desertscape, was segmented into climate-controlled domes, radiating outward from a central hub. Over time, with a renewed respect for the beauty of the modern city, the outer surroundings had become more appropriately landscaped. But overly-meticulous maintenance created a sense of cold sterility even in the greenest areas, and people rarely ventured outside to enjoy it anyway. It was just too damned hot.

  The central dome encased not only the main research facilities and learning centers, but also most of the original structures. Almost dead-center under the apex, there lay a keystone, half-buried in the ground where it had fallen the day fire had consumed the oldest building in town. This was before any safety equipment, or dedicated emergency personnel, had been assigned to what was then a remote outpost. It was hard to imagine such circumstances in the face of this state-of-the-art, gleaming metropolis, now home to millions. But back then, there was nothing to do but let it burn to the ground.

  There was an inscription on the stone, presented by Indian partners who had allowed the researchers refuge within their borders — a symbol of friendship between outcasts. Technically speaking, the Indians were the only true citizens of Tera-Prime, though few of them actually kept residences there. They were too busy living their jet-set lives, yachting around Monaco or skiing the slopes in Aspen. Appropriate for the single wealthiest minority group in the world, thanks to the now-legendary xeno spirit of cooperation that benefited all who happened into it.

  Upon These Ancient Lands, a New Era Dawns

  Civilizations Young and Old, United, Forge a New Way

  For Prosperity, For Harmony, For Peace

  “Tera-Prime?” The young researcher had shouted those many years ago. He tilted his head back to empty his glass, then dropped it back to the table and pointed a tipsy finger at his companion. “Fer Chrissakes, Alen, isn’t that an old Star Trek episode or something?”

  The xeno had smiled and nodded his head. “Indeed it would be, except that it’s not Terra as in Terra Firma. That would mean Earth. It’s actually Tera with one ‘R’, as in Terabyte.”

  His companion still looked perplexed. The xeno made a circular ‘you’re on the right track’ hand motion, encouraging his inebriated friend to land on the logical conclusion. It didn’t work. “Come on, you know... Megabytes, Gigabytes, Terabytes...”

  “Oh,” hiccuped the companion, “alrighty then, I get it.” It didn’t seem like he really did, but the xeno had let it go. Others would appreciate the whimsey, and besides, it wasn’t as though the nickname was likely to stick. It was just a research lab in the boondocks, after all. Hardly worth naming at all.

  FIRST ADMINISTRATOR of the Facility was an antiquated title, given his current responsibilities, but one that carried a certain sentimentality. A reminder of simpler times. This particular F.A.F. was the fourteenth occupant of the city’s highest political post, and pictures of his predecessors adorned the walls of his private chambers. At the moment, he was standing behind his imposing oak desk, one of the few pieces of real antique furniture in the entire city, ready to welcome some of the more important dignitaries his administration had ever received.

  “Administrator, your guests have arrived,” the personal assistant announced. “The Midwest regional governor and his wife, the honorable Justice Equinas and Felina Equinas.” The governor stepped forward, shook hands with the administrator, then presented his wife. With a practiced air of formality, the attractive woman took the administrators’ hand and leaned forw
ard, kissing the air just to the left of his head, then the right.

  “His Lieutenant Governor, Robert Smythe, Senator Jim McCauley of Montana, and Representative Steven Hutchins of Minnesota,”—more glad-handing commenced—“Chairman of Great Lakes Biotech, Sanford Walker III. President of the Chicago Commodities Board, Henrietta Slate. CEO of SpaceRace Industries, Anita Myers. State Attorney General, Robert Simms. Leader of the Coalition for Rational...” As the list droned on and people filtered through, each receiving their handshake and then stepping back into place, the pecking order became distinctly unclear. Several of the underlings jockeyed for position, shoving for space closer to where the action was.

  “Gentlemen. Ladies. Welcome to Tera-Prime! I trust your stay will be a pleasant and productive one. My staff and I will do everything possible to make you comfortable, so please don’t hesitate to ask if there is anything we can do...” It was a canned speech, one he had repeated countless times from that very same spot, just before the guests were split into groups, seated, and brought refreshments — yet he spoke to them with the same vigor as always. His main function was that of goodwill ambassador, title to the contrary, and he was eager to please the guests of his city.

  3.

  Alixs checked the time and walked faster. His study partner had been up one keima when the order came, and he was kicking himself for not switching off the notifier circuit before the start of the match. Now that he’d received the message, it was impossible to ignore. Well, not impossible perhaps, but difficult. He had little choice but to get it over with, and hope he didn’t miss the whole match.

  Thinking about this menial task gave him a nasty tightness in the pit of his stomach. The research requisitions he was ordered to fetch could just as easily have been sent by courier. So typical of Liam, an adjunct instructor barely out of the learning phase himself, to expect others to do his bidding. He wondered if he might be able to get back before the close. At the rate these evenly matched competitors were progressing, it wasn’t likely.