Divergence (8 page)

Judy took a deep breath. Dark Seeds. Don’t look at them. No matter how much they call to you, don’t observe them in any way: touch, sound, taste. Don’t observe them, or they will begin to grow. And then come the Black Velvet Bands…

Judy pushed open the door of her cabin and stepped into the corridor beyond.

Somebody called out to her.

Judy…

“We’re too late,” said Judy tonelessly. “I can hear them calling me already.”

—I can’t hear anything, said Jesse after a pause. —Odd, that. Are you going to kill the other passengers?

“In the end, yes. What else can I do?”

She felt that Jesse had tempted fate with his question, because just at that moment the ugly little girl came running down the corridor, shaking with terror over something that hadn’t been explained to her properly. She saw Judy and ran towards her, snot streaming from her nose.

“Help me!” she called. Judy took her hand weakly.

“I’ll help you,” she whispered.

“You were going to kill her?” said Saskia.

“I did kill her,” said Judy.

The
Deborah
had been an evolving thing, the fabric of the hull and engines and furnishings constantly changing as the vessel made its journey, always seeking out the optimum form for a spaceship. Now it was dead. As the first Dark Seeds had flickered across its senses, the ship’s AIs would have begun to look away, desperate to avoid gazing into the endlessly fascinating spaces that lay inside them.

Nonsentient nullification routines would have cut in, in an attempt to neutralize the threat, but if the flux of Dark Seeds through this area of space had been too great, then the AIs would have not been able to avoid seeing them. They would have no choice but to shut themselves down.

There could be no better indication of the cessation of AI activity than the unchanging nature of the floor and walls of the corridor along which Judy now ran, jerking the ugly child along by the hand. The patterns in the carpets no longer moved to soothe her passage or indicate where to go. The walls were frozen in unsightly lumps, caught halfway in changing from one form to another.

Judy turned a corner and a frozen rain of black cubes confronted her. For a moment they appeared to hang in the air, fixed in position as their quantum paths through the universe were interrupted by observation; now they began to fall, pitter-pattering to the floor and vanishing as they left her awareness. The little girl froze, gazing at one of the little black cubes that lay on the floor, a thread of dark light already emerging from its base. Judy clapped a hand over the child’s eyes and dragged her backwards.

“Don’t look at them!” she called. “Never look at them.”

They began to run back the way they had come, Jesse in the lead. He suddenly hesitated.

—Group of people coming this way. Fifteen or twenty. I think we’re trapped.

“Of course we’re trapped,” snapped Judy. “We’re on a dead spaceship drifting in Warp. Where can we go?”

The little girl looked up at her.

“Who are you speaking to?” she said, wiping at her pale face with a shaking hand.

“My imaginary friend,” said Judy.

“Are you Social Care?” asked the little girl, her eyes filling with hope.

“Yes,” lied Judy. Okay, half a lie: she used to be, until her sisters were killed.

“Right,” said the little girl. Judy was touched to see that she wasn’t shaking so much now. Poor little thing. The girl’s misplaced trust would be her only comfort in the next few hours.

“What’s your name?”

“Grainne.”

“I’m Judy.”

A group of passengers came running around the corner. They hesitated when they saw Judy. A naked man at the front spurred them on.

“Run!” he called to Judy. “There is a long-distance sense array back there. It has Dark Plants growing around it already.”

“There’s no point going on,” said Judy. “The flux is too heavy all through the ship.”

“Then we’re trapped.” The naked man seemed to deflate, his overlarge stomach drooping down over his skinny legs.

“Judy is a Social Care operative,” said Grainne confidently.

The passengers visibly relaxed at that. Strained smiles played over strained faces.

“Okay,” said the naked man, “then what should we do?”

“We need to empty our minds,” said Judy. “Sit down.”

“What, here in the corridor?”

“Can you think of a better place?”

The carpet had evolved a low-pile walkway down the center. The lost passengers now sat down in the fluffy comfort that piled up around the edges of this. There was a sudden lurch.

“What was that?”

“We’ve finally dropped out of Warp,” said an old woman, rubbing her elbow where she had knocked it on the wall. “I recognize the sensation. It used to be common on the old Warp Ships.”

“How could the Dark Seeds find us in Warp?” asked another passenger.

“That doesn’t matter now. The important thing at the moment is not to think.”

“Close your eyes,” said Judy. Seventeen pairs of glittering eyes turned towards her, and she thought back twelve years. There was a voice, a way of framing commands. “Close your eyes,” she commanded. This time the passengers did so.

“Now, think back to your childhood. Try to remember your first week at school.”

“I can’t,” someone muttered the words in panicky frustration. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. Do you remember Mr. Jacks? He came to visit your class on the third day. Mr. Jacks wore a red-and-yellow suit and carried a machine made of mirrors.”

“Oh, yes…”

“I remember…”

“How could I have forgotten…”

Because Mr. Jacks visited every classroom, and Mr. Jacks made everyone forget about his visit and the subtle social programming he performed.

“…and he pressed a button and the mirrors began to turn and you all fell asleep…”

In the corridor, a burst of dark boxes dropped out of the air. Judy looked in the other direction, but more fell over there. Everywhere she looked, Dark Seeds were forming. It was too late. She closed her eyes tightly and felt with her hand for the first of the sleeping bodies. She touched a tiny foot, followed it to a spindly leg. Grainne.

Judy…

She heard the word again at the edge of consciousness. It was almost too late. She hit an internal switch and turned off her emotions. Her hands were already fastened around Grainne’s throat as she felt for the right spot.

“You killed her. I don’t believe you can just sit there and describe it so coldly.”

Saskia didn’t sound disbelieving. Judy had a well of anger rising in her stomach that she could have ridden to the heights of self-righteous satisfaction, but one look at the mechanism in Saskia’s mind—as viewed by the meta-intelligence—and she forgot all that. What did it all matter, anyway?

“Saskia, what do you know of how the Dark Plants propagate?” Judy said, her voice distant and serene.

“Only the rumors…”

Judy shook her head. “No one really knows, Saskia. We don’t know if they evolved or if they were made, if they are real or virtual. They seem to contradict themselves at every level. They exist in the quantum world but are visible in our world: their seeds behave more like electrons than macroscopic objects; they drift through space having no fixed position or direction until they are observed. That’s Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. And when a suitable intelligence observes them, and fixes them in position in space, they germinate.”

“Yes, I know that. We all know that.”

“And then come the BVBs. Black Velvet Bands. Black loops that just form in unobserved space and shrink down to nothing. They catch around your arm or leg, and they can’t be cut. One could form around your lungs, and you would breathe out and it would shrink along with them, and then you’d find you couldn’t breathe in again….”

“You killed the girl.”

“I had to. There were too many intelligent observers on that ship. I had to shut them down. Being asleep wouldn’t have protected those passengers; the Dark Seeds can infiltrate dreams. They can cut right down to your subconscious mind.”

Maurice gave a cold laugh. “They say the worst thing is to have one of the seeds come upon you in your dreams. To be sleeping in your bed while a plant grows nearby, feeding on your nightmares…”

“Do they look for us?” asked Edward nervously.

“No,” said Judy, staring at Maurice. “Definitely not, Edward. But we seem able to sense them, no matter what we do. The AIs on the planet Gateway committed suicide rather than face them, do you know that? They were too frightened of what the seeds would become if they were allowed to grow.”

Saskia opened her mouth; Judy held her hand up to quieten her.

“Grainne’s upper mind was shut down in sleep, and yet still there was a part of her deep subconscious sensing the world. Do you know what the plants are made of, Saskia? I’ll tell you: nothing. They aren’t really there; they are a recursively defined space, like the Sierpienski Gasket. The seeds look like cubes, but their fascinating structure draws your attention in, as it is intended to. You look at a cube and you can see little holes in its structure. So you look closer at the structure around the holes and you see that it is made of holes, too. Everywhere you look you see holes, never actually the seed itself. You look closer and closer and the stuff that makes up the seed is always tantalizingly out of your reach, and you begin to suspect that the seed itself isn’t actually there.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Do you believe in the soul, Saskia?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. And yet those who have ever looked at the plants all say the same thing. They felt as if their soul had become lost amongst the intangible substance of the plants. I’ve known people who have been saved from the plants—pulled back from the brink. They walk and eat and…and that’s about it, and…”

Judy gazed at her hands, remembering her fear on the ship. She was trying to feel something, anything, more than just the effects of the mechanism that made up her brain. “…and all the time the seed is growing and growing. Making a plant out of nothing. And that plant is even more fascinating, and it is pulling at the fabric of the universe, inflating loops of cosmic string larger and larger to make BVBs…”

“They’ve used the Sierpienski Gasket as decoration on the walls over there,” said Maurice quietly.

Maurice saw Edward turn to look where he was pointing, at the white shape like a square split into nine little squares by a Tic-Tac-Toe grid.

“See how it’s made, Edward?” he said. “Take away the middle square and then split each of the remaining squares into nine, and take away the middle squares again, and repeat that process forever.”

Judy was looking at the shape, too. “More connections,” she whispered. She turned back to find Saskia looking at her.

The other woman blinked. “Did you kill the others on that ship as well?” she asked blandly.

Judy blinked in turn.

“Only four. Then the rescue arrived.”

Judy felt the life ebb from the fourth passenger. It rattled out from her empty body, skittering away with the sound of a metal ball in a plastic cup, and Judy felt nothing at its passing. She had told herself not to.

Jesse felt the change first; he had to shout to make himself heard above the rising buzz of the plants growing from the Dark Seeds.

—Judy, something is in here with us.

Judy, her eyes tightly closed, could still see by grey light. The outlines of fabulous plants danced behind her eyelids, her optic nerves somehow registering their presence.

“I can’t see anything,” she muttered. “Jesse, I’m not going to have time to kill them all…”

—We’re leaking air. Open your eyes so I can see, Judy. There is something down the corridor, and it’s coming towards us.

“I can’t open them, Jesse. I can’t look at the plants.”

Something touched her foot and she jerked it away. Something seized her by the wrist.

She felt herself being dragged down the corridor, and she opened her eyes before she could stop herself. And then she couldn’t close them, because she just didn’t understand what had gripped her and she was trying to make out its shape. There was a silver rope wrapped around her waist, something like a silver crab claw held her wrist. That was about it. Something like legs scrabbled at the floor and she tried to see what they were attached to, but then a Dark Plant caught her attention. Dark vines spilled down a wall and a lacelike bloom turned to face her, the edges of its petals endlessly frilled.

—Look away, said Jesse, and she did, and there was another plant just over there, hazily indistinct. She examined the delicate perforations built of perforations that made up its leaves, and she was now being dragged towards a hole in the wall. It was Jesse who noticed the thin meniscus stretched across it like a soap bubble; it was Jesse who saw the stars beyond. Judy was too busy looking at the mad plants behind her to notice the other passengers being pulled to safety. She didn’t notice the meniscus stretch around her and snap out into a bubble, carrying just enough air and pressure to support her life as she crossed the void.

Dark Seeds rattled into the envelope she occupied, and were sucked up and ejected. The space around the
Deborah
was filled with little bubbles of life crossing from the stricken craft to the
Free Enterprise.