The Soul Consortium (30 page)

There would be other spheres, all filled with excited watchers too, but this one has always been the most coveted of places to view significant events, usually because of the caliber of people present. And it is obvious my presence is not welcome.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I whisper. “Get me out of here. I’m drowning their view.”

“Not necessary.” Qod’s voice echoes in my ear. “I can shield you. I just wanted them to know you were here.”

A tinted orb encapsulates me, and the people return to the spectacle, no longer concerned. But I cannot pause to appreciate the cascading fires and swirling gases with them or Qod’s sense of humor for that matter; I have something more interesting I need to discuss with her. And besides, Salem is not here, and without him to share the moment, the joy of the occasion is muted to a hollow ache. Where is he? I assumed he would be here.

Ignoring the celebrations around me, I gaze through the glassy floor plates, penetrating mountains of rock and foundation to find him, through dozens of spheres and conduits, among thousands and thousands of faces until I see him, unchanged, beautiful, smiling. But … he is with someone! He is at the center of at least three hundred people, standing inside his own private garden sphere watching the universe perform. Salem Ben has a new family.

Of course he has.

Naively, I have held an image of him as the wounded man I first met, unable to move beyond his previous loss, waiting, perhaps for me. But no …

“Don’t torture yourself, Oluvia.”

“Get out of my head!”

“I thought you wanted to discuss something with me.”

I wrestle with the temptation to remain in Salem’s sphere but reluctantly withdraw and look for a convenient place in the circumference of the Observation Sphere to talk. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Slowly gliding my own personal orb through the air, between bodies and dangling legs, I find a space at the back of the Observation Sphere.

“So, apart from the obvious, what’s on your mind?”

I study a series of explosive ripples fanning over the top of the sphere like icy fire, imagining the tiny quantum recorders inside each atom, recording and compressing every event as it happens. “Why is this event referred to as the second cycle? Surely the Consortium knows that both this cycle and the last one are probably one among countless others.”

“But it’s still
our
second cycle, no?”

“Yes.” That seems obvious to me now. “Is it accepted that there were other identical universes before this one?”

“Naturally. In fact, the current theory postulates the existence of an eternity of cycles. No beginning and no end. There may have been an infinite number of cycles before—”

“Let’s not get into it. Can we assume the cycle before ours also produced a Consortium that broke free from the universe?”

“Yes. Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to save us several billion years of waiting.”

“For what?”

I suspect Qod already knows what I’m going to suggest, but like any self-respecting deity nudging a child, she wants me to be the one with the idea. “To use the WOOM. We need the data from the quantum recorders to compare against the Codex and provide us with details of the lives of every human being. And human beings won’t even exist in the cycle for at least another nine billion years, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Well, the Oluvia and Qod from the previous cycle would have done what we just did, wouldn’t they?”

“Go on.”

“Then the cycle we just lived through, our first cycle, must have been recorded by them. And if I know me—or the other me, that is, I would have made sure the information was passed on to the next cycle. In fact, can you make sure that happens with the information from this cycle?”

“Of course. It’s an excellent plan.”

“I thought so.” I allow myself a smile. “So if I’m right, we should expect to see—”

“—a data sphere emerging from the formation of our new Promethean Singularity.”

“Exactly!” I say.

“No, I mean there really
is
a data sphere emerging from the formation of our new Promethean Singularity at this very moment.”

“Oh!” Suddenly I am aware of the increased chatter around me.

People point at a tiny ball of electric-red light skirting the zenith of the Observation Sphere, and at once, Qod is zooming in on the phenomena, analyzing its image.

“Is that … is that what I’m hoping it is, Qod?”

“I believe so. The design has some subtle differences from our current technology, but it’s definitely a Consortium construct. No doubt a gift from the Consortium that came before us: the data we need.”

“This is incredible news. Bring it in and check it against any historical records we have. If it really is recorded data from an earlier cycle, it should be identical to our first cycle. And if that’s the case, we can complete our work on the WOOM in no time.”

I
t took an entire day for Qod to cross-reference the information in the new data sphere with our existing, less comprehensive records. An eternity of time for her and a purgatory of waiting for me as I resisted my compulsion to contact Salem, but at the end of the process, the excitement of success was the perfect distraction.

It took another six days to work with Qod in matching and integrating the Codex algorithms with the data from the quantum recorders and a further three days to make the final adjustments to the WOOM for the first momentous trial immersion. There had been no conversation with anyone about who should try it first or which of the virgin souls would be chosen as the initial host, but I had already made my mind up about that. After the first disastrous test with Kilkaine Nostranum in my earliest experiments with the Soul Sphere, I determined never to put anyone through that again. I must be the first to test the WOOM.

All that remains is to present my masterpiece to the Consortium, and as people step inside, I close my lids to reduce the glare of my eyes.

“Oluvia Wade. Everything is ready for you.” The man is Administrator Myru Orbane—the leader of the Consortium for the last several thousand years, so I am told. He is taller than most, suited in an olive-green ensemble decorated with streams of golden chains representing a lifetime of rising through whatever political ranks were established during my absence. With a face almost as long as his list of academic achievements, he smiles and offers me the stage as he retreats into a crowd of specially chosen observers. “Please begin.”

The audience gathered within the Soul Sphere is several hundred strong, all apparently the Consortium’s leading minds and most influential members of the moon’s population. Even though Salem is not amongst them, I could not have asked for a better reception. I close my eyes a little tighter. A futile effort to turn my mind’s eye away from his face.

Whilst I regroup my thoughts, sifting through facts, figures, and possible questions, the guests mill around the base of the sphere, gazing at the vast ebony walls awash with the aquamarine glow of the first two billion processed souls. At the center of the sphere, suspended like a bloated and blackened heart by a tangle of hydraulic tubes, is the WOOM. A man-sized orifice, like a surgical incision, splits its skin vertically, hinting at fleshy innards, waiting to mother its first recipient. I notice a faint warmth riding on a soft breeze like a sleeper’s breathing as my podium rises in the air to rest just in front of it.

Qod signals for the audience’s attention and my commencement with a stentorian call of, “Oluvia Wade, proceed.”

I nod as silence falls. “I’d like to start by thanking all of you, because this opportunity is an enormous privilege.

“Many of you remember me not as I would like to have been remembered. I was Queen of the Seventh Golden Reign, and I rescued humanity from the madness of knowing the AI Reductionist Codex. I am also responsible for your existence outside the gravitational boundaries of the universe—a decision for which I have been vilified by the remnants of humanity. So, my thanks to you for giving me the opportunity to give something back today.”

I point behind me at the WOOM. “This is possibly the most important scientific project since the construction of the Consortium and perhaps my boldest scientific endeavor in my long history of technophilia.”

A revolving image of an early developed human brain appears before the crowd. Tiny fragments of information glow as they pinpoint different areas and cross sections of its pinkish-gray matter.

“I believe that many of you may not know the origins of this project, but for those of you who do, please indulge me.

“I began work on this project when I was still young, during my early days as a neurologist. Breakthroughs with synaptic mapping meant that, at the point of death, a comprehensive brain scan could provide the data needed to configure the brain of a cloned replicate. It became a commonplace procedure of which I am sure you still make use. One moment you are the victim of a fatal accident, the next you wake up inside a stiff and clammy new body in your local genoplant.”

I pause, then study their faces to see if they are following, but the image of Salem with another woman presses forward, and with a quick breath I point to the brain image. “It is not a huge leap to take the next step and overlay an artificial memory or life experience onto a cloned brain, but in all my time as a neurologist, nobody had the expertise to create anything realistic. We tried, though, at first with disastrous results.”

I look down, remembering the look on Kilkaine Nostranum’s empty face when he was removed from the prototype. “We persevered for a long time but eventually gave it up in favor of other priorities such as Project Prometheus.

“But then came the Great AI and the Reductionist Codex. With that, we could not only predict the destiny of the universe; we could know the exact course of every life that had ever lived. Once the parameters were set, it was a simple task for the Consortium’s Control Core to distinguish each individual human being within the equation and divide each entire calculated life into separate data files. And those files contribute to what you see around you today.” I wave a hand at the light specks freckling the walls.

A question fires from the middle of the crowd. “The Codex was restricted aeons ago. It can’t be used because of the dangers of knowing the future, so how do you propose to use it?”

“An excellent question. However, as the instigator of that law I can tell you it would be more accurate to say we are not permitted to
understand
the Codex. The data can still be used with preconfigured algorithms embedded in the Consortium core, which is not endowed with artificial intelligence. But to address your point one step further, one of the parameters built into the algorithm ensures that an individual’s file is only compiled after they have died.”

The questioner looks satisfied, so I continue. “Soon after the first files were generated I was able to begin work on what I called the Soul Sphere.” I designed it so any of these data files could be overlayed onto a user’s brain, allowing them to experience someone else’s life. I was disappointed by the result. After trying it myself there was no doubt I had experienced someone else’s life from birth through to death, but like all the previous artificial efforts, it did not feel real, and it also resulted in certain unexpected … side effects.”

“Can you elaborate on those side effects?” someone asks.

“No, she cannot.” Qod puts the question to rest.

I pause and search the crowd, hoping for some reason
he
might have decided to come. But Salem isn’t here, so I bite back the disappointment. “Qod is correct. The side effects are irrelevant. However, the answer, I believe, is now here. With quantum recorders inside every atom of the universe we no longer have artificial or calculated data; we have real information. This information alone is probably good enough to create a realistic version of a person’s life, but it is from the previous cycle. Although it has been verified against
our
records, a good scientist must never rely on a single source of data to be sure of accurate results—if independent sources draw the same conclusion there is strong evidence that the data is accurate.

“And now …” I speak a little louder as the image of the brain is replaced with an internal schematic of the WOOM. “We are fortunate to have both: the Codex calculations
and,
thanks to our predecessors, the real-time recordings.

“Much like human vision—an eye on its own will provide an accurate picture of the environment—but two eyes? Two eyes provide a new dimension that ensures vision has beauty and depth. Likewise, both data sets can be overlayed onto a human brain to show us any life we choose with a depth of experience that I believe will be indistinguishable from reality.

“And to ensure continued accuracy, the algorithms have been built to integrate each new batch of data from the quantum recorders of each subsequent cycle.”

A murmur runs through my audience.

“How long does the overlay process take?” asks a gray-skinned woman from the back.

“A realistic representation of one of these … souls can only be achieved in real time. In other words, a life of twenty thousand years will take twenty thousand years to experience. Are there any other questions before I continue?”

“Can the procedure be interrupted, or can the most significant part of a person’s life be viewed while the rest of it is skipped?”

“A good question, but I am afraid my answer is sure to disappoint you. Although I am certain it is possible to interrupt an immersion, the rules governing the Codex data prevent us from knowing the fine details of each life, so we have no way to—how would you say it?—edit a life. The only way to gather those details would be to actually live it. The data from the subatomic recorders can provide us with summary information of a subject’s life, but otherwise it is an all-or-nothing experience.”

“Is the user aware of their own consciousness during immersion?”

“Another good question but there is no easy answer. At a certain level, yes. The user will believe they
are
their subject of choice when they are immersed into that life, but much of their own ego will still be present. What you perceive to be your current life experience may simply be data in somebody else’s head millions of years from now. They will believe themselves to be you, but according to my projected analysis, certain symptoms may manifest to indicate an immersion is in progress.”