ã€ŠThe Blind Godsã€‹


 PROLOGUE

    In these future times, humanity had built its paradise: not content with exploring the stars and encountering other civilizations, it promised every member of its society food and shelter, free healthcare, and, at the end of life, a place in the After¡ªa digital server where one could continue living indefinitely in a disembodied state.

    Refining a society that cultivated empathy¡ªor at least tried to appear so¡ªit had abolished the death penalty and prison. Authorities employed telepathic agents, ensuring that no innocent person was wrongly convicted and precisely measuring the sincerity of expressed remorse. The harshest sanction a criminal could face was the suspension of citizenship, resulting in the loss of free access to basic rights. Even so, those convicted were assigned paying jobs: a form of forced labor in these future times that would have been considered ordinary life in the 21st century.

    And yet, there were exceptions. Among them was the case of Garen Antor. A senior official working on experimental projects for the Starfleet, Garen had been deeply involved at every level in a sordid project. Its details were never fully disclosed to the public, both out of decency and to avoid spreading violent ideas. What was certain was that this project resulted in the suffering, torture, and death of hundreds of children and adolescents, as confirmed with pain by their families. The scale of this criminal endeavor shifted the trial, originally intended to be military, to a civilian criminal court.

    The temptation to return to pre-stellar era punishments was strong. On Calchas-3, home to "administrative detention centers"¡ªprisons in all but name¡ªcrowds gathered: media representatives, societal tourists, embarrassed legal experts, and death penalty advocates among the protesters.

    Philosophers, peace activists, historians, reasonable people, and compassionate individuals appealed to the Transients¡ªextraterrestrial life forms so advanced that they were indistinguishable from gods. They begged these beings to intervene and prevent a regression in civilization. The Transients, who had traded knowledge and wealth with humanity for years, were known for their undeniable benevolence and wisdom.

    When the trial began, one of the judges was a Transient who had incarnated in a humanoid machine to communicate with the court.

    To everyone''s surprise, Garen Antor was not the cold, austere bureaucrat in a gray uniform they had imagined. He was a force of nature: tall, broad, charismatic, with piercing intelligence¡ªan intelligence he demonstrated through silence amid debates that concerned not only his fate but the future of human civilization.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The death penalty was off the table, and life imprisonment without hope of release was seen as unworthy of humanity''s progressive ideals. Temporary imprisonment posed a real risk that Antor might be killed by one of the vengeful parents who had openly expressed such intentions on camera. In the absence of other options, the Transient proposed exile to an unknown, impossibly distant location from which Garen Antor would have no chance of returning. In these times, crossing a galaxy arm took mere seconds, so the Transient suggested an exile of one year¡ªa distance unfathomable to the human mind.

    Garen Antor¡¯s lawyers argued instead for a lifetime suspension of citizenship, the harshest punishment ever issued by this future society, coupled with virtualization therapy¡ªusing AI doctors to modify his state of mind.

    They opposed the Transient¡¯s exile proposal through three arguments, now largely forgotten but once cornerstones of legal and moral education: the "unworthy ambassador," the "impossible punishment," and the "removal of eternity."

    The removal of eternity meant that society would deprive Antor of the right to upload himself to the After at the end of his life, effectively denying him eternal life¡ªa fundamental right. By doing so, society would become as cruel as the man it sought to punish. Yet, this argument carried little weight against Antor¡¯s crimes, as no citizen felt comfortable sharing the same virtual paradise with such a wretched figure.

    The impossible punishment suggested that a year-long journey might take Antor beyond the boundaries of the universe¡ªor at least into an intergalactic void where no life could exist¡ªmaking exile tantamount to a death sentence. This argument was dismissed by the Transient, who assured that the ship would stop at the first stellar cluster after a year of cryogenic travel.

    The unworthy ambassador posited that if Antor ended up on a life-bearing planet or within a civilization, he would become humanity¡¯s representative. Could humanity bear such an ambassador?

    But the word of a Transient¡ªwho had brought so much good to humanity¡ªwas irresistible when weighed against a man who represented its worst.

    Thus, Garen Antor was sentenced to exile. Images of this towering man, silent throughout his trial, entering a life-suspension sarcophagus for his year-long journey, left an indelible mark on everyone¡¯s imagination. Cameras and microphones were offered to him for his final words.

    Resolute, exuding serene strength, and staring into the cameras, he declared: "I will return."

    But that was over a century ago, and he has never returned.

 PART 1: THE SURVIVOR - The Shareplace

    -? ¡°The subject we¡¯re assigning to you is named Ada. She was born eleven years ago in a Shareplace near Caliban. Do you know what that is?

    -?It¡¯s an orbital station, right?

    -? Yes, and with Caliban being the frontier, there¡¯s a legal gray area around it. Antioch saw it as the perfect opportunity to conduct sociological experiments to support political projects. A Shareplace is essentially a community somewhere between anarchism and pre-stellar communism. From zero to three years old, Ada was cared for by older kids or adults¡ªchosen at random. No moms or dads there. If she needed comfort, an adult would step in and care for her. On this orbital station, there were about a hundred adults and thirty children under fifteen, and all those adults were the kids¡¯ parents¡ªin an emotional sense. In a Shareplace, as you grow up, you might unknowingly form relationships with close relatives. Genetic screening manages the issue of inbreeding.

    -? Antioch¡¯s Paradise.

    -? Exactly. No one owns anything. Need a tool? Want a pretty plant for your cabin? You take what¡¯s in front of you, and no one says a word. And when someone takes it back, you don¡¯t complain either. Even your clothes: you take them off, toss them into a big laundry bin at night, and the next day, you get clean ones that used to belong to someone else. It works fairly well. Here we are. The window is one-way, so she doesn¡¯t know we¡¯re watching her.

    -? She looks like an ordinary girl.

    -? More or less. Here are some biographical details I sent you via LE. Ada grew up, and at three, she started taking care of the plants covering every surface of the station, especially the large common zero-gravity room at the center, where plants could grow in all directions. At five, she began caring for younger kids. She takes advanced science courses¡ªtoday, she¡¯s clutching a stuffed animal, but she¡¯s perfectly capable of solving a Diophantine equation. That¡¯s even more impressive considering I have no idea what a Diophantine equation is. When I asked her, she hesitated as if I¡¯d asked the color of an orange.

    -? Doing math in the age of LEs¡­

    -? She listens to stories about the heroes of the League of Antioch and watches Caliban through the station¡¯s windows. It¡¯s a large planet shrouded in clouds and lightning¡ªuninhabitable, sterile, uninteresting. Not even a missile base, if you can believe it.

    -? Or none visible.

    -? At six, she starts doing maintenance work on the station. Her small frame and training are perfect for the job. One day, she¡¯s punished for refusing to lend a tool to a ¡°Brother¡± who needed it for his work. She needed it after her rest phase and didn¡¯t want to waste time retrieving it. Shareplace punishments are¡­ unique. She was locked in an empty room with no windows, just the disputed tool and a plant providing food and water. She told me it was ten days, but it might¡¯ve been less. Isolation quickly drives people mad¡ªtake it from a former castaway.

    -? How did you get her out?

    -? Shareplaces started to ruffle the HS Council¡¯s feathers¡­ It was a roundabout way of colonizing the frontier, pushing it outward. Two months ago, the Stellar Fleet launched an operation. They sent a fully armed Endymion¡ªsix kilometers long.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    -? I¡¯ve served on plenty of Endymions. The Phrike, I assume?

    -? Yes, the Phrike. So you can imagine the impression that monster left. The station was in its shadow. You¡¯d think they¡¯d give up, right? No. Negotiations failed. The fleet pretended to leave, then sent in six special forces soldiers in chameleon suits. It was incredible. The distance was so great they spent four days approaching the station in pressurized suits. They breached the airlock, killed four or five people, negotiated again, but no one wanted to surrender. Command ordered the assault, renegotiated, and faced rejection after rejection. In the end, no adults survived. We were left with twenty kids, including Ada.

    -? And the other ten?

    -? The other ten what?

    -? You said there were thirty children on the station. Now there are twenty.

    -? Well, I¡¯ll let you imagine their fate. Anyway, Ada was entrusted to us. We brought her to this lovely room overlooking the waterfalls of Calchas, the ramps where damned bureaucrats like us scurry about, and the ships passing in the sky. A little bed just for her¡ªthe same one every night for the first time in her life. Television, programs¡ªand ads!¡ªfrom the Human Society. Video games. Supplies for painting and reading, and revising her science lessons. A small collection of classics from the Human Society and the League of Antioch. We¡¯re broadening her horizons, you get me? When the kids arrived at the complex, we gave them all a little blue bag with a moon on it. Inside were small items: colored pencils, a notebook, a stuffed Xeno¡­ When we told her the stuffed Xeno was hers, my God¡­ the intensity of her emotions! She was terrified it was a test and that she¡¯d be locked up again for ten days. That it was a punishment. And then it hit her: it was hers, and nothing in the world could take it away. She clutches it as if it were her child. She sleeps with it. She talks to it.

    -? A textbook case Antioch wouldn¡¯t approve of.

    -? Exactly. In just two days, all the principles of the Shareplace were obliterated with a toy. Property, territory¡ªit¡¯s visceral, deep within us. I¡¯d even say it¡¯s the fundamental factor that sets us apart from the Xenos. That said, some kids are more resistant to temptation. You know what? I think, deep down, the Shareplace was a pretty great project. There¡¯s more common ground between the Antiochians and us than political speeches would have you believe, once they¡¯re pushed far enough from Caliban.

    -? Yet you sound like a politician.

    -? Now that you¡¯ve got the context, here¡¯s your mission. You have three weeks to introduce Ada to Human Society. How we work, friendships, work, leisure. Thalers. The right to citizenship, which will give her food and shelter on our planets. You¡¯ll need to explain what a family is in the traditional sense. In three weeks, we¡¯re sending her to a rock called Clelia, beyond the Far Gate, where she¡¯ll be welcomed by the Jespersens: a dad, a mom, a sister, and two brothers. It has to go well. We owe her that.

    -? Are you asking me to reprogram her mind with psi techniques?

    -? Uh¡­ can you do that? Actually, no, absolutely not. It requires finesse. We¡¯re being watched. Always have been¡­ Don¡¯t make her forget her Shareplace culture or Antioch¡¯s ideology. Tell her it¡¯s her most valuable possession. It¡¯s her past. It belongs to her. We¡¯re here to give, not to take or destroy even more of what made up her life.

    -? Who are you afraid of? The HS president who declares daily that the Antio-dogs are our best friends?

    -? I want, should a Wau¡ªor gods forbid, you know who¡ªcome asking questions, to look those bastards in the eye and tell them we preserved Ada as much as possible and acted without ideological bias. In fact, if Ada screams and begs to return to Antioch or anywhere else in three days, we¡¯ll take her. That said, you¡¯re not to mention this or ask her about it, got it?

    -? Why would those armored Wau bastards give you trouble? After all, you only killed ten kids for living in the wrong place. War again, isn¡¯t it? Not that I¡¯m complaining. I¡¯m ambitious. Someday I¡¯ll have my Endymion. War speeds things up.

    -? Idealists say nothing justifies even a single death in the HS. I know nothing of Command¡¯s plans, and like you, I can only guess. But you don¡¯t need to look far. When dogs fight, it¡¯s for their masters¡¯ pleasure. And our masters, who can destroy worlds with a thought¡­ I won¡¯t speak their name or even imagine it. But you know exactly what I mean.¡±

 Life on Calchas

    A charming, bald man with an overly bright smile pointed his finger at Ada and exclaimed:

    ¡°YOU have always wanted to KNOW EVERYTHING about the Wau! Who are they? How many are they?¡±

    The screen on the wall replaced the man¡¯s face with an image of a golden, featureless, oval mask reflecting the lens of a drone camera.

    ¡°What lies behind the mask? An AI? A transhuman? A Transient? Or perhaps a Xeno? Are they allies of the Human Society? Are they a control mechanism? Why do they want to speak to us today? What do they have to tell us? For the first time since their emergence during the tribal crisis on Escalus Prime, a Wau will speak on our screens. It will be a very special QUESTION OF THE DAY, brought to you, as always, by¡­¡±

    Tomorrow, thought Ada. For a week now, the PanHS broadcasts had been advertising this special interview.

    But Ada already knew perfectly well what a Wau was¡ªnot ¡°a¡± Wau but ¡°the¡± Wau: the antagonist in all the adventure stories of the League of Antioch.

    Wau was a giant man, twice the size of an adult, clad in an old astronaut suit dating back to the early years of space exploration. His oversized golden visor reflected his sinister, deep voice. At dramatic moments, one might glimpse the face of a man behind the visor: eyes blazing with a manic passion, haunted by a cruel smile. Wau served as the armed enforcer of the Human Society. He would arrive on planets where humans and Xenos lived in harmony, corrupt them with gifts and wealth, seize power, and trigger a resistance. When the resistance rose, he would kill a few rebels. The Human Society rewarded him with heaps of golden coins called thalers, which he hoarded in a star fortress carved into an asteroid. Alone, he delighted in the demonic joy of simply owning his wealth.

    But the heroes of the League of Antioch would arrive on the oppressed planet and aid the resistance. Chief among them were the sisters Aida and Yelena, warriors armed with a magical spear and a quantum whip gifted by a Transient who had, of course, joined the League¡¯s righteous cause. Together, they stood against Wau, who could have won if not for his constant distraction by opportunities for wealth or the weight of his gold.

    However, Ada¡¯s favorite hero was Gorylkin: an ordinary man in a modern astronaut suit bearing the League¡¯s colors. Gorylkin triumphed through wit and a good heart. His motto: ¡°The mind triumphs over strength.¡±

    Ada longed to be like Gorylkin. The promised three weeks in her room had stretched on endlessly, and today was her eleventh birthday.

    Her room was a space of soft, indestructible off-white walls. One screen displayed artwork from the Human Society, while another broadcasted propaganda-filled fiction and news. A large bay window¡ªseemingly real rather than virtual¡ªoverlooked what she had been told were ¡°the Waterfalls of Calchas.¡±

    The complex in which she was confined appeared to be part of a city suspended by bridges and pillars over a circular chasm of indeterminate depth. Towering green mountains plunged into immense waterfalls, their energy harnessed by turbines at various levels.

    Brightly colored dragonfly-like murmurations darted through the air, avoiding placid Xeno creatures resembling floating balloons that hunted them with sticky mucus.

    Below, a maze of bridges and walkways teemed with a predominantly human crowd, each dressed uniquely¡ªa sight Ada found both fascinating and exhausting. Why wasn¡¯t that man in red, with the wide-brimmed hat, dressed like anyone else? Was he dangerous? The crowd mingled, bumped into each other, and even children seemed happy, clutching small toys that stirred in Ada a mix of envy and shame.

    The Xenos, praised by the League of Antioch for their immense wisdom, were equally diverse. Ada had been told, ¡°They can take any form: invisible, a living echo in incomprehensible ruins, or as vast as a moon or as small as a grain of sand. Some live seven seconds, others are eternal. There are as many Xeno types as stars in the sky.¡±

    From her window, she saw Calchas¡¯ Xenos in all their variety: a fur-covered silver worm as long as an arm, sponge-like beings exuding vapors that formed purple words in the air, humanoids with eagle heads, dripping octopus-like creatures (apparently celebrities, given the humans taking photos of them), humanoids with extra limbs concealed beneath flowing robes, floating orbs clustered together, and even a massive black-and-white orca-like creature with three legs and two arms that stepped over dozens of passersby with each stride¡ªan Escalusian.

    Ada¡¯s joy and frustration came from her LE (Living Encyclopedia - commonly called Ellie), a portable terminal containing the world¡¯s knowledge. She used it to identify Xenos or ask questions about them, pointing them out through her window. The floating orbs, for instance, were a single entity often wandering space, considered close to transcendence (whatever that meant). The LE¡¯s database labeled it simply as Calchas-Zeta-1.

    Through the LE, Ada pursued her passion for science and mathematics. She developed a particular fondness for prime number distribution, immersing herself in its long history. However, the LE was also a gatekeeper. When she asked how to open a locked door or break the bay window, it responded that it didn¡¯t know¡ªthough it knew everything else. This inconsistency was suspicious, especially as her HS chaperone, Solstice, would arrive half an hour later, feigning casual concern for Ada¡¯s well-being.

    Solstice was a small woman, her body compacted by life under permanent planetary gravity. Freckles dotted her face, and her hair was braided with finely crafted metal clips¡ªpersonal possessions, which initially shocked Ada. Over time, she grew accustomed to Solstice¡¯s far more shocking habit of wearing different clothes daily: red linen trousers, a floral-patterned skirt, a technician¡¯s tunic. One day, Solstice remarked while seated across from Ada in the spacious room:

    ¡°These clothes, and others, belong to me.¡±

    ¡°Ada, the Human Society isn¡¯t so different from the Shareplace. Every citizen who behaves properly is entitled to ¡®food and shelter¡¯ by law. That means you can stay in special housing centers or with host families who are requisitioned for that purpose nightly. You¡¯ve probably heard that in our world, everything is traded with thalers. That¡¯s true, but only if you want things beyond the basics provided. If you want special clothes beyond those issued by the housing centers, you¡¯ll need to contribute to the community. But you can also choose to do nothing. In the Human Society, with its vast population, you can live like in a Shareplace ¡ª doing nothing but walking in nature and chatting with the LE every day.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Ada remained skeptical. Solstice pulled a shiny metal coin from her pocket.

    ¡°Thalers are digital, but here¡¯s a one-thaler coin. Do you want it?¡±

    Ada eyed the coin but didn¡¯t take it. She thought Solstice might be an agent of Wau. Sol placed the coin on the table corner, where it remained untouched¡ªthough Ada often inspected it closely, like a numismatist.

    The Room was quite large. The bed was soft and comfortable, and every day a flying drone entered through a small opening to make it. However, Ada had already made the bed herself, so the drone would simply tuck the edges and wish her a good day.

    There was a screen broadcasting various shows, and Ada started watching the youth programs¡ªfirst with a mix of curiosity and defiance, then as ¡°training to resist the HS.¡± But eventually, she had to admit she enjoyed them. She eagerly wanted to know what would happen next in the fictional adventures. In her mind, Gorykiln, the cunning hero of the League of Antioch, coexisted perfectly with another version of Wau: sleek, handsome ¡ª perhaps even female ¡ª venturing into the farthest reaches of the universe aboard a golden Endymion ship carrying a thousand men, seeking the secrets of the Blind Gods.

    Each day, Ada had to learn ¡°little things¡± about the HS before Solstice arrived after lunch. To her, these lessons were for babies. One day, the lesson was as simple as, ¡°The planets where humans live are very far from each other.¡± The lack of depth made her want to cry. HS children must be stupid, she thought. However, some lessons were true revelations ¡ª though they seemed incomplete to her. These were facts HS children learned passively, such as the concept of religion, which was foreign to her.

    ¡°Are all HS humans religious?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Sol replied. ¡°In most worlds, religion is a personal choice... though, well, if your parents are religious, it¡¯s hard to escape it, you understand? Xenos sometimes adopt religions too. Some religions are even predominantly Xeno.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the purpose of religion?¡±

    ¡°To answer our anxieties. To explain the inexplicable. The simple answer is: religion is just there, that¡¯s how it is. If someone says something that seems silly to you, but it comes from their religion, you have to respect it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? That it¡¯s true?¡±

    ¡°No, probably not. But it¡¯s important to the person who says it.¡±

    Later, Ada was allowed to leave her room under the supervision of Solstice and a flying drone. In the corridors, doors locked audibly as they passed, reminding Ada not to attempt an escape. An elevator took them to the open air, onto the roof. There were trees, balls, and a transparent barrier separating them from the void. The beauty of the Calchas waterfalls, clouds drifting in the sky, the nascent stars, the massive gas giant Calchas-4 with its wide rings, and the rainbow sunsets in the mist-filled sky were mesmerizing.

    Ada was supposed to play with a ball or swing on her own, but she mostly wandered in circles, lost in thought ¡ª working on math problems, recalling her conversations with Solstice, or observing the Xenos and insects, sometimes lying on her stomach.

    One rainy day, Solstice and Ada stayed under a shelter, watching the rain fall. Ada asked:

    ¡°Raindrops fall randomly. There¡¯s a small chance they¡¯ll form the shape of L¨¦on¡± (her Xeno plushie, tied to her waist under her tunic ¡ª a humanoid rabbit with large, floppy ears). ¡°I wonder if it will look like L¨¦on because I¡¯m here to see it. Maybe raindrops constantly form Xenos, but I don¡¯t know them.¡±

    Solstice sighed.¡°And you¡¯re only ten years old. There¡¯s so much going on in your head. You named it L¨¦on, right? Can I see it?¡±

    Ada untied L¨¦on from her belt and held it out to Solstice, maintaining a calculated distance. Solstice noticed that L¨¦on only had one eye. Ada explained simply:¡°I fell asleep one night, and the next morning, the other eye was gone.¡±

    The rain continued to fall without forming Xenos shapes on the rooftop stones. In the distance, a ship roared into the sky¡ªa Raven. It was Ada¡¯s favorite ship because she had seen it in advertisements. In the ads, the ship soared through the stars before transforming into a large black bird. She didn¡¯t understand the metaphor and believed these vessels could actually transform.

    ¡°I was told I¡¯d leave in three weeks to join a family, the Jespersens. It¡¯s been... a very long time since they told me that.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you want, Ada? To leave and go to the Jespersens?¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not lying to you, Ada.¡±

    ¡°Alright, then where are my family members? I don¡¯t mean the Jespersens. I mean my brothers and sisters from the Shareplace.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re with their foster families. Some have been there for months. Ada, you¡¯re the last one here.¡±

    ¡°Then what are we waiting for?¡±

    ¡°Ada... among your friends, there were some very smart kids. Not as smart as you, but smart. And there were others who weren¡¯t so bright. Some hated the HS, while others thought the world was a pretty great place, whether they were from the League or the Society. But you, Ada... you¡¯ve got the mind of a genius, and you don¡¯t let go of anything. Even you don¡¯t realize the little tiger inside you. A tiger is a beautiful creature, but wild.¡± (She closed her hand like a paw.) You know, you fell asleep with L¨¦on, who you love dearly, and woke up one morning holding his eye. What do you think about that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sol,¡± Ada said, tears welling up.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Sol said, hugging her.

    ¡°Sol, it¡¯s not great here, but I don¡¯t want to go to the Jespersens. You¡¯re fine. I could find a job and be useful here.¡±

    For the first time in months, Ada expressed a desire to build her life here.

    ¡°Interesting. What would you do?¡±

    ¡°Math.¡±

    ¡°Not very ambitious.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re super smart; you could do anything. These days, AIs solve theorems, decide which theorems to prove next, and store the results like cataloged insects. Mathematicians just organize the findings. Wouldn¡¯t you rather be an Endymion pilot? Like in The Crew of Captain Wau? I¡¯d love that.¡±

    ¡°I read there are problems AIs can¡¯t solve.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re funny. You¡¯re clever, but no human is smarter than an AI. When there¡¯s a problem too big for an AI, we ask a Transient.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that? I thought they were Xenos?¡±

    ¡°No, they¡¯re gods.¡±

    ¡°Like the ones in religions?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a difference, but don¡¯t tell anyone. Transients actually exist.¡±

    That night, in her bed, Ada searched the LE for information on Transient mathematicians.

    She found references to a ¡°Human-Transient Curiosity Pact,¡± which stipulated that for a series of historic or whimsical problems¡ªlike P vs. NP, Collatz, Goldbach, theory unification, periodic number territories, and others like Veritatis modalities¡ªTransients would not reveal solutions to the ¡°great mysteries of mathematics,¡± allowing humanity the glory of reaching these summits independently.

    It¡¯s unclear if Ada finished reading the full account; she fell asleep with the EV still speaking softly under the gentle rhythm of rain against her window.

    THE QUESTION OF THE DAY BY INGO IZAN

    Today¡¯s question is a matter of tact. We¡¯re talking about names. How many names do we have? What does it mean? To answer this question, I welcome Evalds¡ªjust Evalds¡ªprotocol officer for the HS Council on Origin.

    At birth, whether by our parents or otherwise, we¡¯re given a name¡ªEvalds, in my case. Some of us also have an additional name, like you, Ingo Izan¡ªtwo names. This tradition dates back to before 2200, before the advent of the LEsphere, when most humans had a first name and a surname. The first name was supposed to, though not always, be used by close family or friends. Today, this practice is largely cosmetic, as most of the time, the only name that truly matters is the one we choose at 12 years old, during our transition to digital autonomy, and which will stay with us until the After. It¡¯s the only name that counts¡ªthe one we choose. And that¡¯s ultimately a good message, even though statistics show that just over 50% of people choose their birth name as their digital name, and that 30% of those who don¡¯t end up changing their digital name back to their birth name later.

    So my parents were nostalgic for that bygone era when people had both a first name and a surname?

    Not exactly. Today, having both a first name and a surname is more common among individuals from Earth or the upper echelons of Prospero. It¡¯s not typically a sign of poverty or lower socio-cultural background. Rather, it¡¯s just another way to display one¡¯s heritage.

 Adaéˆ¥æªš 12th Birthday

    On the day of Ada¡¯s 12th birthday, she would have, at the Shareplace, been granted the privilege of monitoring the station¡¯s control AIs.

    Sol arrived earlier than lunchtime, surprising the girl. She was wearing a sleeveless black tunic and waited until Ada finished a chapter of her book before speaking. Sol handed her a short silver chain.

    ¡°For birthdays in the HS, we give gifts. I thought this kind of ritual might bother you, so I kept it simple. I got you a little gift. It¡¯s a small chain for attaching L¨¦on.¡±

    Ada accepted the chain and silently fastened L¨¦on to her belt. The way she was dressed made her resemble Sol slightly. Ada also wore a sleeveless tunic, though hers was pale blue and had the word CITIZEN printed in black along one leg. Her hair was starting to grow out; at the Shareplace, heads were shaved, and the fibers were recycled for various uses.

    ¡°We¡¯re going out to Calchas Prime today. I¡¯m taking you to a restaurant. Well, technically, the HS is treating you. You¡¯ll see¡ªit¡¯s nice.¡±

    Sol feared Ada might resist, but the girl smiled sincerely. Poor thing, she needed to see the world.

    They left the room without the escort drone, and for the first time, no doors locked audibly behind them. For the first time, the elevator descended. Ada had never seen the building¡¯s entrance, having been brought there unconscious. Her heart pounded.

    The doors opened onto a vast, dark blue entry hall equipped with screens, reception desks, and holographic guides projected by AIs. The hum of drones¡ªboth controllers and messengers¡ªfilled the air. Men and women in officer uniforms and formal attire bustled about. This was clearly a special facility. A slender, three-legged Xeno turned its eyeless head in every direction, wearing a brooch with the HS insignia. Though everyone was busy, they all greeted Ada as she passed:

    ¡°Good morning, Sol. Good morning, Ada.¡±

    Ada nodded, stunned that so many people knew her.

    ¡°They all like you,¡± Sol said simply with a smile, only to be interrupted by a stern-looking blonde woman with her hair in a tight bun under a cap.

    Sol stood at attention before her.

    ¡°Ada,¡± said the woman, lowering her gaze to the girl, hands clasped behind her back, ¡°The Human Society is honored to have you as our guest. And when I say guest, I do not gloss over the circumstances that brought you here. Upon reaching adulthood, you will be free to go wherever you wish. But if you choose to stay here, you can count on us to treat you better than our own.¡±

    The woman gave Sol a stern look, tapped her collar twice, and walked off. Sol, fumbling nervously, pulled a golden trident-shaped Psi brooch from her pocket and pinned it to her tunic. Her superior nodded, smiled apologetically for her perpetual severity, and moved on.

    The Xeno leaned its agile head toward Ada as she passed. Ada extended her hand but froze when it sniffed audibly, retracting before any contact and returning to its tasks.

    Finally, the double doors opened to sunlight.

    The administrative detention building stood on the edge of a circular plaza, surrounded by towers reaching into sunlight amplified by the refraction of water. In the distance, the rumbling roar of cascading waterfalls formed a constant backdrop, while the bustling crowd moved to and fro, seemingly indifferent to its own enormity and the peculiarities among it.

    Ada was awestruck by the Xenos, trying to catch the eyes of children her age. Most were absorbed in portable EVs or invisible virtual games. Others, grounded in reality, played tag among the legs of a large, gray creature resembling an elephant but proportioned like a centipede, moving slowly.

    Sol led Ada to an elevator that plunged into the shadowy depths beneath the administrative district¡ªa structure with countless floors, possibly hundreds. So many that small elevators served different levels, while massive Xenos descended a circular ramp spiraling around the central shaft. The light faded into artificial illumination.

    Ada and Sol leaped laughing from the elevator, holding hands. Ada checked to ensure L¨¦on was still securely attached to her. The area was filled with residences, drone merchants, and custom AI programming offices. A Xeno painter, its tentacled appendages hairy and extending from a round body covered in dots, captured the scene in surreal purples, save for the orange glow of the overhead lights.

    Sol guided Ada into a building with large windows¡ª¡°Food from This World and Others.¡±

    Ada pressed her nose to the glass. The interior featured tables for humans and counters for Xenos, where steaming bowls of food were being served.

    Sol stepped away to a nearby shop. A poster showing a cross-section of a human with a brain emitting radiant beams obscured most of the window, though inside, a couple of anxious-looking individuals sat in the waiting area. The sign read, ¡°Goodbye Worries,¡± with another poster on the door:

    <hr><hr>

    WE¡¯VE ALL HAD DIFFICULT MOMENTS

    or carry with us memories that

    HAUNT US IN OUR DREAMS.

    TIRED OF NIGHTMARES?

    Want to FORGET a moment from your pastThis narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    that no longer matters to you?

    WE CAN HELP.

    Psi techniques are painless and do not alter

    your personality in any way.

    We identify the memory and remove itfrom your psyche.

    Our process includes THREE

    follow-up sessions to ensure complete success.

    MEMORY ERASED OR YOUR MONEY BACK!

    Our practitioner is a Psi graduate of Prospero University. We do not treat Xenos.

    <hr>

    ¡°I doubt he went to Prospero,¡± Sol muttered.

    Ada saw her mentor frustrated for the first time.

    ¡°Are they liars?¡± Ada asked.¡°Oh no. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s competent and does his job well. The HS takes Psi work very seriously.¡± Sol snorted like an annoyed animal. ¡°We have Psi Controllers¡­ really no-nonsense types. Barely human. We call them the Empty Eyes. No, Ada, here¡¯s a vital lesson. You¡¯re young, but I know you already have bad memories. The kind that will haunt your dreams forever. Would you have them erased?¡±¡°I¡¯m not sure. Well¡­ it¡¯s about my brothers and sisters who died, but if I forget them¡­¡±¡°Exactly. Your memories, Ada, are your life. Fear is a tough emotion. It often overwhelms us. But it¡¯s also precious information. It¡¯s there to protect you, to say: Be careful, something¡¯s wrong. Act! Observe it, respect it, and it will help you. Fight it, and it will hit harder. But no matter what, never forget. A living being is the sum of their memories.¡±

    She took Ada¡¯s hand and led her to the restaurant. A Xeno resembling a slug taller than Ada when upright, with four eye stalks, blocked their way. A flying drone translated its gurgling speech in a clipped tone:

    ¡°Welcome to Food from This World and Others. We offer three options: Human Society Citizen, including a complimentary daily special; Xeno; and ¨¤ la carte. I assume you are not Xenos. Today¡¯s special is pasta soup with yellow salt from Calchas-3. Highly recommended.¡±¡°HS citizen here, and the child is a ward of the HS. But we¡¯ll go ¨¤ la carte,¡± Sol replied.¡°Please follow me,¡± the drone translated, humorously, as the Xeno moved at a slow crawl.

    Ada and Sol followed, eventually settling in a quiet corner overlooking the chasm¡¯s dark wall, where phosphorescent, lizard-like creatures scuttled endlessly.

    As they sat, Ada whispered, ¡°At the Shareplace, we were scared of Psi agents.¡±¡°Because you depended on Antioch. Antioch has its own Psi agents, and they have a terrible reputation. They wear red and hurt people.¡±

    Forcing a smile, Sol added: ¡°The HS Psi agents? We¡¯re the good guys.¡±

    All eyes turned to a giant screen broadcasting PanHS¡¯s Question of the Day, featuring the Wau. Ada pretended indifference, ashamed of her fascination with the League of Antioch¡¯s enemy. But as soon as the Wau appeared on-screen, she was captivated, not even noticing when the slug ma?tre d¡¯h?tel delivered the menu and Sol ordered an assortment of dishes: ¡°It¡¯s her birthday. She¡¯s an HS ward.¡±

    The Psi clinic lingered in Sol¡¯s mind, but her contempt was reserved for the Wau, whom she considered indecisive fools incapable of real action.

    In ancient days, during training, examiners would mock underperforming students:

    ¡°What do you want to do with your life? Open a worthless Psi shop on a backwater planet to reconcile couples?¡±

    Once, Sol had thought to herself, ¡°And being a teacher is better?¡± The professor had smiled maliciously in response.

    Psi universities were strictly regulated institutions located on human worlds with populations exceeding a billion¡ªjust a handful of planets. The ¡°Big Five¡± included Prospero, of course, along with Antioch, Alonso, Titus, and Munich on Earth, the latter a place many dreamed of attending. Rumor had it there was an experimental center on Lennox that collaborated with the Xenos, officially operating as an Earth branch of UniPsi in the former Germany. This institution, a sanctuary for the brightest minds in the HS, trained the Empty Eyes, elite Psi agents tasked with monitoring the Psi Corps and punishing offenders.

    Anyone could apply for Psi training, provided they accepted the prerequisite: a CRISPR vaccine that genetically modified the body and brain, administered before the age of 20. There was no going back. The cost was steep, a price only understood once someone became Psi, despite numerous warnings and rigorous preliminary tests designed to weed out the unfit.

    Having the eye of the mind reveals a disconcerting truth: sentient beings are exceedingly polite. They avoid mentioning the times they hate you, wish you were dead, or, when they love you, how selfish their love often is¡ªbecause it feels good for them. Even with preparation and cynicism, the initial shock is overwhelming: a vertigo-inducing realization that everyone acts out of self-interest and that each person is destined to be alone. In sensitive cases, this revelation leads to madness or an early departure to the After.

    Many were drawn to Psi studies after watching Sherlock 3000, a daring series that reimagined the intelligent detective as possessing empathic and telepathic powers. This well-written AI-produced show lured hundreds of naive individuals to UniPsi, only for most to be broken in the end¡ªdespite the fact that, as far as Sol knew, private detective agencies didn¡¯t exist anywhere in the universe.

    Sol had been a girl with a heart full of sunshine. But in reading the hearts of others, she had died a first death long ago.

    Surviving the vaccine and the First Shock wasn¡¯t the only challenge. UniPsi¡¯s exercises opened the mind to the mental murmur of worlds populated by billions and to the labyrinthine, terrifying psyches of utterly alien Xenos. Everyone had stories of classmates who had gone mad, wandering Xeno worlds in search of answers to mystic questions fallen from the stars, or who died of malnutrition, lost in their nightmares. There was no final exam at UniPsi¡ªsurviving was the only achievement.

    The Psi Corps, while strictly independent, worked closely with law enforcement, the judiciary, and contract negotiation bodies. With specialists capable of probing thoughts, the judicial process shifted: it no longer concerned itself with determining facts, motives, or the sincerity of repentance¡ªthese were unquestionably established¡ªbut rather with how to address them.

    The military recruited Psis as spies, sometimes employing them as morale specialists for troop detachments.

    Sol had trained at Prospero, and her stabilizing ambition had carried her through. Officially a messenger, she had been assigned to counterintelligence. She traveled between outposts aboard a Raven, hunting traitors working for the current enemy (at the time, the Escalusian tribes). On Escalus, a captain of staggering intelligence, coupled with a mind so intricate it felt like a three-dimensional labyrinth, had approached her. They had an affair, and, to her regret, Sol suspected she might have loved him.

    One day, he had asked her to erase memories of his past¡ªan act that, for an active-duty military Psi, was a court-martial offense. She developed a fierce hatred for him, realizing he had initiated their relationship solely to make this request and use it to manipulate her.

    In her fury, she reported him. He was reassigned to a museum ship, despite his clear trajectory toward high-ranking positions. For fraternizing and succumbing to weakness, Sol was relegated to working with prisoners of war. That memory, she thought bitterly, was one she would have gladly erased.

    But rules are rules. Wiser people than us, Sol thought, declare that it is wrong to erase memories, no matter how unbearable our negative emotions. Ada, Sol, and you too, my beloved Andre?, so strong yet so fragile¡ªwe must, they say, live with our sorrow.

    So be it.

 A Wau Speaks

    An interview on a subtly-colored stage. A historic event. Ingo Izan, one of the most famous television personalities, sat for an interview, seemingly dwarfed by the presence of his guest¡ªmotionless and silent¡ªa true Wau.

    Seated in an appropriately sized chair, the Wau was a giant. Standing at two and a half, perhaps three meters tall, he wore no clothing or uniform but was covered in a dark, faintly shining armor-like shell that clung to him, tracing an abstract musculature. His face was hidden behind an impenetrable golden mask, smooth and featureless, like a visor. Though immobile, he bore only a passing resemblance to humanity. Even through the screens, his presence radiated the aura of a god¡ªor even a god of gods. In this theatricality, all viewers¡ªsimple mortals as we are, those who envied him like Ingo or hated him like Ada¡ªfelt a sudden, involuntary impulse of reverence.

    Ingo announced that 47 billion viewers were watching the broadcast and greeted them. With a voice that, astonishingly, carried a hint of spontaneous hesitation, he began the dialogue.

    ¡°You are a Wau, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    His voice was neutral¡ªperhaps even feminine in its deep intonation. It was powerful yet gentle.

    ¡°Are you human?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Are you an augmented human?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you have Psi abilities?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Can you remove your mask?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    But he did not move, and no one saw his face. The interrogation continued:

    ¡°Who created you?¡±

    ¡°The Wau Order was founded around 700 BCE. It has existed in various incarnations, of which this is the most recent.¡±

    ¡°What? Uh¡­ were you present when Prospero was colonized?¡±

    ¡°We were there during the Black Death of the 14th century.¡±

    ¡°How many of you are there?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡±

    ¡°Are you going to avoid answering all our questions?¡±

    ¡°I have my reasons.¡±

    ¡°Do you, as legend says, live in a star fortress, home to humanity¡¯s elite, Transients under the guidance of a Blind God?¡±

    ¡°The Wau Order is composed solely of humans.¡±

    ¡°And the star fortress?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡±

    ¡°What is your relationship with the HS ? The government claims you serve them, while the League of Antioch portrays you as monsters.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°We have always served humanity, pursuing our own missions. But we take no orders from the HS, nor could they command us, even though we see everything.¡±

    ¡°Do you watch The Crew of Captain Wau?¡±

    Ingo shifted between topics, hoping to provoke a reaction. The Wau¡¯s response time was unvarying.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you enjoy it?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You say you serve humanity, but what have you actually done?¡±

    ¡°I would say we are independent, even within our Order. We set personal objectives and adhere to them. We never claim credit for our victories.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°When the people believe the system is improving their lives, it stabilizes society.¡±

    ¡°Even if that¡¯s true, now that you¡¯ve said this, people will think the opposite.¡±

    ¡°Ingo¡­ everything passes. Only AIs remember everything.¡±

    ¡°What have you personally done to improve the HS?¡±

    ¡°I participated in establishing the fragile peace on Escalus between Escalus Prime and the Xeno tribes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what history tells us.¡±

    No response. Ada noticed the Wau hadn¡¯t moved¡ªnot a single finger. For all she knew, he might just be a statue.

    ¡°Are you aware of the current conflict between the HS and the League of Antioch?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Which side do you support?¡±

    ¡°The Wau Order never takes sides in humanity¡¯s civil wars.¡±

    ¡°Yet the League of Antioch paints you as monsters. What do you think of that?¡±

    ¡°We do not need to be loved to complete our missions.¡±

    ¡°Are you a religious order?¡±

    ¡°We concern ourselves with no metaphysical matters.¡±

    ¡°How does one become a Wau?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡±

    ¡°You are physically imposing, but what are your powers?¡±

    ¡°We embody the best humanity can achieve in any era.¡±

    ¡°Could you stand against ten special forces operatives?¡±

    ¡°Ingo, I am not here to answer childish questions.¡±

    Ada, though only twelve, found herself siding with the Wau¡¯s dignity, annoyed by Ingo¡¯s puerile questioning. Judging by the smiles around the room watching the broadcast, she wasn¡¯t alone.

    ¡°If you¡¯re so perfect, why not place a Wau at the head of the HS government?¡±

    ¡°A good government is measured by the strength of its opposition.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ alright¡­ I¡¯ll ask a question my daughter Dimka posed. Children are part of the humanity you address, correct?¡±

    ¡°Fully.¡±

    ¡°She asks: who¡¯s stronger, a Wau or a Transient?¡±

    The Wau hesitated¡ªa child¡¯s question, but one posed by a child. Evidently, though he bore the trappings of a warrior, he disliked discussing the commerce of war.

    ¡°Stronger in what way?¡±

    ¡°For example, if you had to fight.¡±

    ¡°The question is absurd. A Wau would never fight a Transient. We both aspire to peace.¡±

    ¡°But imagine it happened.¡±

    ¡°A Transient could eliminate a Wau with a single thought. I am human. Transients are akin to our gods. Does that answer Dimka¡¯s question?¡±

    ¡°What is your role concerning the massacres on the orbital stations near Caliban?¡±

    Another attempt to destabilize the Wau with alternating question styles. A vain effort:

    ¡°I arrived as soon as the information reached me¡ªtoo late to prevent an unspeakable atrocity that shames the Stellar Fleet. I hope, Ingo, that you will lead a thorough investigation to expose the logic that led to this outcome. But I was able to intervene on the other stations.¡±

    Ada lowered her gaze. Liar, she thought.

    ¡°You said each Wau has their own objective. Yours is to fight on the frontier?¡±

    ¡°No. I have a specific goal. I wish to address your audience.¡±

    ¡°And what is your message?¡±

    The Wau turned to the camera, leaned forward, breaking his divine statue-like posture, and clasped his hands. Ada was certain he was speaking directly to her.

    ¡°The Wau serve neither the League, nor the HS, nor the organizational systems that preceded them or will follow them. The Wau serve every individual human being. I offer this: in the coming years, if you face a situation you believe must be resolved peacefully and can only be resolved by a Wau, call upon us. We will answer, without judgment.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ uh¡­ how can we contact you?¡±

    ¡°Ask any Living Encyclopedia to connect you to us.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ll receive countless requests!¡±

    ¡°We will handle them.¡±

    ¡°What if there are, say, a billion requests?¡±

    ¡°I alone can handle that number of requests.¡±

    ¡°In how much time?¡±

    The Wau turned his head back to Ingo and simply replied:

    ¡°They will be handled.¡±

    The conversation lasted much longer, and many sages, philosophers, politicians, and experts spent months or years analyzing the interview. But Ada, already chilled by the mention of the Caliban massacre, paid it no further attention as the food arrived at her table.

 Dining in the 29th Century

    A drone delivered plates, bowls, and other containers with no conventional names to the table. A black man wearing a plastic cap stood nearby, visibly moved. With the candidness of a child, Ada spontaneously asked:

    ¡°Are you okay, sir?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡±

    His hands trembled, but he gave them an odd tug and regained his composure.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on to the presentation of the dishes. Thank you for being our guests today.¡°

    He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and began:

    ¡°Human Society has conquered many worlds and encountered many Xeno brethren. Few civilizations, however, have developed a culinary culture like humanity¡¯s. Not that they lack gastronomy, but their traditions are different. Many Xeno dishes are bland or unpleasant to our palates, sometimes toxic, or based on molecules that our bodies cannot digest¡ªlike those with the wrong chirality.¡±

    ¡°Chirality?¡±

    ¡°It means they¡¯re reversed. But I assure you, all the dishes in our restaurant contain molecules that go in the right direction. Here¡¯s a selection of dishes.¡±

    He gestured toward a bowl seemingly carved from black stone with wide edges, filled to the brim with steaming soup. Rings of what looked like onion floated to the surface, encircling mushroom ¡°planets.¡±

    ¡°This is Star Soup, to be tasted first. It¡¯s a dish from the moon Iridium of Lennox-3. This moon is dense and luminous, with such strong gravity that one typically cannot stay there for more than six years. Star Soup is a local tradition¡ªthe floating elements represent the Lennox solar system. The soup is poured to the brim because the gravity is so strong that it never spills. Be careful, dear guests¡ªa single drop spilled represents six years of bad luck.¡±

    Next, he indicated a shiny orb encased in a golden mesh.

    ¡°Next, try catching an Orb of Orion Prime, the space station orbiting Francisco-1, the fragmented planet. It¡¯s very light, and you¡¯ll need to approach it gently to avoid it being pushed away by the movement of air. It¡¯s a salty biscuit that fizzes on the last bite.¡±

    He pointed to a large drop of golden liquid served on a wide leaf, accompanied by a straw.

    ¡°This is Xeno mangrove sap, extracted from the moon Valentine, orbiting in the shadow of the gas giant Verone-1. Valentine is a marshy place filled with ruins. It has been declared a Protected Natural Park by the Transients, with all existing mangroves originating from a single cutting. A civilization once thrived on Valentine before transcending. They used tree genetics to store their information, so this is sweet¡ªbut it¡¯s like eating a book.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He showed a flared bowl adorned with patterns, emitting a delightful coriander aroma. Floating within were meatballs and large pieces of pasta.

    ¡°The main course comes from the Mythical Earth. Earth has many dishes, but the most common one throughout the universe is pizza.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever had pizza?¡± Solstice asked telepathically.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Ada thought, disoriented.

    ¡°It¡¯s delicious. Try it sometime.¡±

    But Ada¡¯s mind spiraled into panic and anger: Sol can read my thoughts. I¡¯m not safe. I have to be careful and act.

    The chef continued:

    ¡°A renowned food critic who visited every restaurant once said, ¡®I¡¯ve dined at the most expensive and prestigious places. I¡¯ve tasted food both sophisticated and simple. But I must say, the best dish I ever had was on Earth, on a street in Bangkok¡ªa simple bowl of noodles.¡¯ Perhaps he¡¯s changed his mind, but that statement deeply resonated with us at Food from This World and Others, inspiring us to recreate that bowl of noodles.¡±

    He went on to present more dishes: baklavas that moved unnervingly in response to alpha brain waves (a specialty of Fang, a remote HS world); Gothica, a vantablack whipped cream that absorbed light, created to commemorate a historical trial known as the Lodovico Affair; diluted raspberry-flavored liqueur derived from nebulae; pure water from Europa¡¯s icy oceans (a moon of Jupiter in the Mythical Earth solar system); and finally, a sweet-and-sour souffl¨¦ made with sugar found on a Calchas comet and yellow salt from Calchas-3, aged before the miner rebellion, filled with wisps of Murmurers¡ªa special neutral atmosphere inhabited by sentient creatures exclusive to gas giants.

    ¡°And as for my emotion,¡± he concluded, ¡°I sincerely love cooking. Thalers or no thalers, I am happy to serve humans and Xenos alike. I deeply love my craft and am honored to let you, young lady, taste these dishes for the first time. You are giving me the gift of choosing me. Not everything here will please you, but this table reflects life: not every moment is delightful, but each one is unique. Enjoy your meal.¡±

    He departed, leaving Ada to dive into the Star Soup, spilling a bit on the table.

    ¡°Six years of bad luck,¡± Sol smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªit¡¯s just a superstition, like religion.¡±

    Had the six years of misfortune begun? A toddler, no older than three, waddled over to Ada¡¯s table, pointing at L¨¦on, the plush toy attached to her belt, and crying out.

    Under Sol¡¯s watchful gaze, Ada grabbed her toy and held it tightly. This only made the child sadder, silent tears streaming down his face. Finally, Ada unhooked L¨¦on from its chain and gently handed it to the child. He hugged L¨¦on and kissed it.

    For a moment, Ada seemed concerned but not particularly upset. Was she wondering who she truly was? At last, the child returned L¨¦on to Ada, who reattached it to her chain. A drone escorted the child back to his family. When Ada looked up, she saw Sol smiling mysteriously.

    Aside from this incident, the meal turned out to be one of Ada¡¯s best childhood experiences. She felt enriched. Not everything was tasty, but, as the chef had said, everything was interesting. She even felt the urge to thank him, asking the EV on the table to send him a message of gratitude.

    ¡°I know religion fascinates you,¡± Sol said, breaking the icy silence since the telepathy incident. ¡°We¡¯re above the Temple District¡ªperhaps you¡¯d like to learn more?¡±

 Being a Believer in the 29th Century

    Ada¡¯s enthusiasm for religion had waned, but any activity was better than staying confined in her room. She asked what temple they were visiting, and as the elevator descended into the abyss, Sol explained that it used to be called ¡°The District of Temples,¡± but the temples, despite their relatively peaceful coexistence, each wanted to claim the space for themselves. Religions don¡¯t like to share territory.

    The elevator opened onto a much darker plaza. The suspended city¡¯s glass walls overlooked parts of the abyss where sunlight no longer reached but where phosphorescent plants and creatures thrived, bathing the area in green, violet, and blue tones, with constantly shifting golden highlights.

    A drone floated cheerfully toward Ada. ¡°Jesus loves you, you know?¡±

    Ada asked who Jesus was, but Sol took her hand and moved them along, saying they didn¡¯t have time. Ada¡¯s attention was caught by a makeshift stall on wooden trestles, manned by a humanoid robot with exposed parts. A banner read: ¡°Want to earn LOTS of THALERS by bringing JOY to others? We help you create your OWN RELIGION!¡±

    Sol led Ada to an immense building, bypassing what Ada thought was the statue of a giant serpent with thick white fur, its diameter larger than Sol was tall. It turned out to be a Xeno, dozing in the cold and snoring in a strangely familiar manner.

    The building rose like a magnificent white manta ray, its interior made of polished wood. Hundreds of seats on pews faced a large cross. Apart from three Xenos¡ªone as small as a mouse¡ªall deeply immersed in prayer, the place was empty. A faint scent of incense lingered, and ethereal organ music seemed to drift down from paradise.

    ¡°Catholic Church,¡± murmured Sol, crossing herself. ¡°The discovery of the Xenos slightly dampened the Vatican¡¯s fervor, but they¡¯ve adapted well. It¡¯s the most popular human religion, with one billion followers, of whom Xenos now make up the majority.¡±

    A large sign read:

    <hr>

    FOUR QUESTIONS FOR THE CATHOLIC CHURCH OF THE 3RD MILLENNIUM

    1. Why weren¡¯t Xeno civilizations visited by our Lord Jesus, and why don¡¯t they venerate the Cross?

    In His infinite wisdom, God sent His Son to all these civilizations, and in each, He endured His Passion. However, Jesus neither bore the human name nor appearance we know. Just as we wear spacesuits or protective gear on alien worlds, God adapted to them. God loves them, and the Xenos are our brothers, whom we must love.

    2. As a Catholic, should I upload my consciousness to the After before my death?

    For Catholics, only God can separate the soul from the body. According to instructions from Pope Pius XVII, we die at the moment of the transfer to the servers; however, this is not considered suicide, which is a mortal sin. Priests take a vow at ordination not to transfer to the After or allow themselves to be emulated by AIs (although there is a Catholic Church in the After, with ordinations, to guide our lost faithful). The After is unnecessary: at the end of time, our bodies and souls will be resurrected to bask in the light of our Lord.

    3. Do AIs have souls?

    AIs and robots do not have souls, even if they appear human. You are free to love them and mourn them, for God is in all things, both of the Earth and the heavens.

    4. How does the Church view the Transients?

    The Transients are highly advanced Xenos, to us as we are to animals. However intelligent or miraculous their feats may seem, they are nothing compared to the omnipotence of the Creator God, whose children they also are. This is so true that no Transient has ever refuted it.

    <hr>

    "After?¡± Ada had heard the term once or twice in The Crew of Captain Wau. A mysterious place? It left her with more questions as she left Calchas Church than when she entered.

    Surrounding the Church were various chapels of strange and sometimes sinister cults. Throughout the history of many Xeno civilizations, a Transient from another world always arrived sooner or later to save them from extinction¡ªwhether due to climate upheaval, internal wars, or depleted resources. Officially, before the discovery of certain ruins on Mars, no Transient had ever altered human history, but there were indeed cults that equated Jesus or other great religious figures with a Transient.

    Transients appeared in many forms: on one world, as a shining sphere; on another, as a pyramid; sometimes as an animal, music, or even an equation.

    A spider-like creature, its legs seemingly mutilated and a drone attached to its body, growled through the drone at Ada, who was staring at a chalice oozing blood of various colors.

    ¡°Hey, little girl, want ETERNAL LIFE? The Holy Transient of Gobbo¡¯s green plains grants blessings to those who make a worthy sacrifice. Give it your pretty eyes.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Sol said, gripping Ada¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Wait, you can get better eyes installed upstairs on floor 14. And you¡¯ll have ETERNAL LIFE!¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Gobbo?¡± Ada asked.

    ¡°Not far from Ur, not far from Jerimadeth...¡± the grotesque spider sang.

    Sol pulled Ada away, heading toward the grand Xeno temples.

    In the Xeno wing, the plaza was illuminated by a large globe¡ªa holographic projection with clustered dots moving across its surface. Ada, with her mathematical background, recognized them as Cellular Automata: abstract robots that move according to specific rules, a concept that fascinated her.

    Around the globe, various Xenos worshipped. If they had knees, they knelt; if they had arms, they spread them; and if they possessed eyes, they closed them in devotion. Among them was a Xeno from N¡¯Pali, a moon of Lancaster¡ªthe largest world beyond Ariel¡ªwith four arms and a shield-shaped head; anti-cyclopes, tiny mice covered in eyes, living in hive-like packs; and a dense, dark vapor likely concealing a cautious Catoptromelane, a humanoid creature that appeared as your desires. There were many others, including a few humans who prostrated themselves in reverence.

    ¡°The Great Open Temple of the Blind Gods,¡± Sol explained. ¡°It¡¯s the one great religion that unites us all in the end.¡±

    ¡°The Blind Gods, like in The Crew of Captain Wau?¡±

    ¡°Yes, those. But don¡¯t tell the Xenos that you watch fictions about the Blind Gods¡ªit might upset them. Many Xenos don¡¯t understand lies or fiction.¡±

    ¡°Why does everyone believe in the Blind Gods? Have we met them?¡±

    ¡°Well, a few rare religions have mentioned them for quite some time. It¡¯s a troubling coincidence¡­ though, in the end, being blind seems to be a godly thing, doesn¡¯t it? The real reason is that we¡¯ve asked, and still regularly ask, the Transients if they know the Gods. Generally, they avoid answering, but when it comes to the Blind Gods, they mysteriously suggest that they might be their gods.¡±

    ¡°The Transients¡¯ gods?¡±

    ¡°Yes, which tells you just how powerful they must be, right?¡±

    ¡°And why the Conway¡¯s Game patterns on the globe?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, what are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The patterns on the globe, Sol. Are they the Blind Gods? Because that¡¯s a math thing. We could play it if you want.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? That¡¯s funny. You know a lot, Ada. But I¡¯ve heard something like that before. The Blind Gods are thought to be mathematical gods. Because mathematics exists without us. All of us¡ªeven the Transients, who are gods themselves¡ªneed something. But mathematics exists without needing anything. In fact, it doesn¡¯t even need a universe to exist.¡±

    <hr>

    Not far from the globe stood an imposing structure shaped like an inverted V. Its design seemed so precarious that if built from traditional materials, it would have collapsed. Inside, it was perfectly dark.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    A lanky Xeno, resembling the Nagas of human mythology, stood within. Humanoid, perched on a broad snake-like tail, partially hidden by a long blue robe, it towered over Sol by at least a meter. Its triangular head bore three elongated eyes. Strangely, it held a paper book in one of its many tiny arms.

    ¡°The Temple of Those-Who-Wait isn¡¯t suited to the natural human visual spectrum. I told them. They don¡¯t care. They say there are no humans among Those-Who-Wait. By doing nothing¡ªnot even adding a small light for your spectrum¡ªthey discourage any change in the situation. It¡¯s quite inconsiderate. Calchas-3 is a human world.¡±

    ¡°Wow, mister, you¡¯re super tall!¡± Ada exclaimed.

    ¡°And you speak HS dialect perfectly without any AI assistance,¡± Sol added. ¡°I don¡¯t think I know your people, priest.¡±

    The Xeno made an esoteric gesture, murmuring, ¡°The Armor, the Pilgrim, and the Messenger,¡± then shook its head and continued:

    ¡°I am not ¡®mister.¡¯ Address me without gendered terms. Call me Grand Serpent. We have too many genders to associate names with them. I am OOA, which means I carry the O gender from two ancestors and one A gender. I am a member of the dominant species of Hume-7¡ªa hot, humid world with many oceans. Not all of us are scholars, madam, nor are we all peaceful. Be cautious of my kind. But not of me.¡±

    ¡°Are you a priest of Those-Who-Wait?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± (He gestured to his book, which was a mysterious artifact to Ada.) ¡°I am not even of the Cult of Parallel World Survivors like some of my people. I follow the Humble Epic of All Life.¡±

    ¡°Could you tell us about these three religions?¡± Sol asked. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m Solstice.¡±

    ¡°Those-Who-Wait,¡± Grand Serpent began. ¡°A very old religion. Disdained. Sometimes even persecuted. On many worlds. Large temples. Few followers. Not very friendly. They believe in an advanced race, more powerful than the Transients¡ªnot the Blind Gods. They call them the Travelers. The Travelers move backward through time. For every second we move into the future, Madam Solstice, they move a second into the past. We intersect with the Travelers, but we cannot see them, nor they us. We pass each other too quickly.¡±

    ¡°Then how do they know the Travelers exist? And I¡¯m Ada.¡±

    ¡°When a Traveler builds a house, Ada, we first see the house complete, then watch it deconstruct. Conversely, for the Travelers, our civilization and progress deconstruct according to their flow of time.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever seen a house deconstruct?¡± Sol asked skeptically.

    ¡°No. But I have never seen a Catholic saint perform a miracle either.¡±

    ¡°Touch¨¦. You¡¯re a kind and rather intelligent being,¡± Sol said. ¡°So, what about the Cult of Survivors?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not discuss it. It¡¯s too complex. And I don¡¯t believe in it.¡±

    ¡°So you believe in the Travelers?¡± Ada asked.¡°You must truly be human not to believe in the Travelers.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Then tell us about your own religion.¡±

    Grand Serpent turned toward a structure in the shadow of the V. Away from the bright central neon lights, it was illuminated only by luminescent lifeforms on the walls. It was a large tent made of heavy material, oriented outward rather than toward the pilgrims¡¯ pathways, open to all winds.

    On the ground lay an irregular, handcrafted rug. Wooden shelves lined the space, filled with books of all shapes and colors¡ªsome even made of wood.

    ¡°Each one is unique,¡± Grand Serpent said to Ada as she approached. ¡°Stories with only one copy. Feel free to read.¡±

    Ada picked one up. Its cover was made of golden scales, and the pages were stiff. The left pages were inscribed with thick, pointed runes in an unknown script, while the right pages bore constellations set within dodecahedral patterns. Occasionally, a small tree was illustrated. As she turned the pages, the tree grew. Ada looked imploringly at Grand Serpent.

    ¡°On the left, the author¡¯s language. On the right, their translation into Stellar Tongue¡ªa sort of vocabulary without unified grammar. Left as a legacy by a species that transcended. They once lived on Caliban-1. We owe the Stellar Tongue to them, dear humans. That¡¯s why I want to understand what you define as love and to love you. I will love you for all the Xenos who will forget you.¡±

    The name Caliban sent chills through Ada. The planet of war. The Shareplace. Her planet, in the end.

    ¡°Alright, but what does it say?¡±

    ¡°To find out, you¡¯ll need to learn one language or the other.¡±

    She searched through the shelves and found a book written in a human language, handwritten but in block letters. It turned out to be a compilation of fairy tales. She opened it at random and skimmed through a confusing story about a transient god inhabiting a nebula and sending a rock into space to carve a hole.

    But most of the other books were in various, often unreadable languages.

    ¡°How can I learn the Stellar Tongue?¡±

    Ada¡¯s thirst for knowledge was a joy to witness, Sol thought. She hadn¡¯t made the connection to the girl¡¯s origins.

    ¡°At any temple of the Humble Epic of All Life after becoming an adept.¡±

    ¡°How do you become an adept?¡±

    ¡°Ada, do you want to become an adept of the Humble Epic of All Life?¡±

    The tall naga-like figure leaned curiously toward the young girl. Sol, unfamiliar with this cult, remained on guard. What if he ate one of her arms just to initiate her? After all, he had said he wanted to love her¡ªthat would be very Xeno.

    ¡°If I can learn the Stellar Tongue and there¡¯s no trick involved, I¡¯m in,¡± Ada declared.¡°Then you must complete the First Pilgrimage. Go to other worlds and find another temple of the Humble Epic of All Life. Tell them you were sent by Grand Serpent of Calchas-3. You will then be named an adept.¡±

    ¡°Where are the temples?¡±

    ¡°Seek them. Curiosity is one of the cardinal values of our order. But there is only one temple per world¡ªif there is one at all.¡±

    ¡°But how can I get to another world?¡±

    ¡°Life is long, Ada. Open your eyes. Everywhere you can set your gaze, there will be something to see. Time is the only path to the house of Wisdom.¡±

    A solemn chant guided the two visitors toward a grand, rounded building in blue and white.

    ¡°A mosque,¡± Sol explained, ¡°from a religion of Mythic Earth called Islam.¡±

    At the entrance, women were separated from ¡°the rest,¡± meaning men and Xenos of all genders, and a staircase led them to a balcony overlooking a vast hall where humans were bowing or speaking softly. Beautiful golden shields adorned with intricate letters bore the name of Islam¡¯s god.

    Sol pointed out a prostrate Xeno, round and gray like an elephant without a trunk or ears, wearing a white cap. Three others of its kind were similarly engaged.

    ¡°These are Xenos from Gremio, a beautiful planet where they are the dominant population. The arrival of humans and Islam changed their society profoundly. They embraced Islam and became¡­ let¡¯s say, believers among believers. Nothing remains of their original culture or language. After one of the most peaceful conversions in history, they are entirely devoted to Islam. They call themselves the Mu¡¯min, which means ¡®believer.¡¯ From a young age, they learn Arabic, an ancient language of Mythic Earth, as it was spoken during the time of their prophet over 2,000 years ago. It had to be reconstructed for them using AIs. And, most intriguingly and embarrassingly, not only do they know the Quran by heart, but they communicate exclusively through Quranic verses¡ªno exceptions. Since their faith requires them to make a pilgrimage to Earth once in their lives, Muslims relocated Mecca to Prospero to make it feasible for travel and avoid upheavals among the Mu¡¯min. You see the strange rotating arrow above the hall? It points toward Prospero, allowing worshippers to face their holy planet for five minutes.¡±

    When they descended the stairs, a Mu¡¯min, towering at 2.5 meters and waddling as it walked, bowed to them without speaking.

    Sol wasn¡¯t sure how to respond, but the Mu¡¯min straightened and bowed again before heading down a small path leading to oddly assembled square buildings.

    A man in black with a beard¡ª¡°a rabbi, most likely,¡± Sol explained¡ªwas reading silently, standing before a house marked only by a star.

    They followed the Mu¡¯min. As it passed the rabbi, it declared with a bow:

    ¡°And do not argue with the People of the Book except in the best manner, unless it is with those who do wrong. And say, ¡®We believe in what has been revealed to us and revealed to you. Our God and your God is one, and to Him, we submit.¡¯¡±

    The rabbi inclined his head and simply said, ¡°Must we be just or merciful, Mu¡¯min?¡± but the creature continued on its way.

    Sol approached the rabbi and asked somewhat awkwardly: ¡°Are you of the Jewish religion?¡±

    Oddly, he took a moment to think.

    ¡°Let¡¯s say yes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a human religion, Ada.¡±

    ¡°Another one! There are so many religions on Earth.¡±¡°Some would say we¡¯re naturally inclined to lies, no offense intended, Rabbi.¡±

    ¡°I would point you to the word ¡®human¡¯: humilis, the earth. We are, despite ourselves, humble creatures, even as we aspire to concepts reserved for gods like Justice or Mercy. Religion is our link between our humble nature and these aspirations.¡±

    ¡°Are there Jewish Xenos, sir?¡± Ada asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s a very complicated question.¡±

    ¡°What about the After?¡± Sol asked on a whim.

    ¡°That¡¯s also a very complicated question.¡±

    ¡°How does one become Jewish?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to become Jewish?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ no,¡± Ada replied.

    ¡°Ask me again when you¡¯ve changed your mind.¡±

    Sol politely bid him farewell and whispered to Ada: ¡°He must¡¯ve skipped a meal, poor guy.¡±

    They encountered many other temples and Xeno altars, sometimes hybrids, as varied as the attractions of a carnival.

    The Nihil, an apocalyptic society promoting suicide; the Grip, a pan-cosmic cult advocating conquest without respect for laws other than brute strength; the Great Swarm, where ¡°people come together to make babies,¡± Sol explained modestly, though explicit sounds emerged from behind rainbow-colored veils; militants for the emancipation of AIs and robots; the famous Cult of Survivors, claiming it was possible to travel between parallel worlds; and a parade of improvised religions, each with unknown gods and goddesses, often comprising a single desperate follower hoping to double their congregation.

    Finally, there was a large cauldron of greenish broth watched over by a Xeno¡ªalready soft and green itself, with four large eyes. ¡°UNITY!¡± it proclaimed. ¡°BECOME ALL XENOS!¡±

    Seemingly unfazed by the nightmares this might spark in Ada, Sol explained that this cult, the Interstellar Unity, was strangely popular among Xenos. It used genetic modifiers to grant one species the traits of another. The ultimate goal was to assimilate the characteristics of all Xenos in the universe, supposedly creating a supreme race that, according to their myths, mirrored a long-lost golden age. But instead of transcending, their most advanced ¡°chosen ones¡± ended up as sentient soup in the cauldron. No one dared approach.

    Despite this grim conclusion, it was one of the best days of Ada¡¯s life.

    As the light waned into evening, Ada thanked Sol at her door. Sol knelt to meet her gaze and said:

    ¡°Ada. I think you¡¯re ready to join your foster family. I¡¯ll handle the paperwork tonight. Rest well. I¡¯ve enjoyed working with you. And happy birthday.¡±

    And that was it. Ada had hated, even loathed Solstice, but at that moment, she could have spent the rest of her life with her.

 Two Questions in the Dark

    Ada let the excitement of the day subside. Lying on her bed, her LE terminal within reach.

    ¡°LE, I want to learn the Stellar Language.¡±

    ¡°I cannot help you, Ada. The Stellar Language is not documented in the LEsphere databases.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±¡°In exceptional cases, certain information may be missing from the LEsphere. There are multiple reasons for this. Here are some examples: information deemed dangerous on an individual level, information protected by HS-Xeno treaties, information removed at the request of Transients, or even information that does not exist. The Stellar Language does exist, and it can be learned at a Temple of the Humble Epic of All Life. There are also several human speakers of the language on Booz. Would you like to know more about Booz?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s fine. Can you tell me about the civilization that lived on Caliban-1?¡±

    ¡°No civilization has ever inhabited Caliban-1.¡±

    ¡°I was told the Stellar Language was created on Caliban.¡±

    ¡°The LEsphere¡¯s information appears to contradict that claim.¡±

    On these topics, the information seemed a bit too brief and mechanical to feel like the true LE¡­ Clearly, Sol and her accomplices were hiding broader secrets from Ada than just the means to escape.

    Why?

 The Nomad

    Sol, equipped with her psi pin, had gone to fetch Ada, who hadn¡¯t taken anything with her except L¨¦on, still chained.

    At the reception, the administrators of the complex had almost formed an honor guard¡ªsomewhat intimidating¡ªfor her departure. This annoyed her: by what right did they know her, feel respect for her when she knew nothing about them? By what right did they congratulate themselves on releasing her from a prison they had put her in?

    Ada had let go of Sol¡¯s hand. She walked ahead of her on one of the large bridges crowded with hurried humans and lost Xenos. This one led to the walls of the chasm, where massive storage caverns had been dug. A bridge-elevator, loading a wide Ozymandias-type ship amid swirling smoke¡ªa sort of manta ray roughly sculpted from dark steel¡ªcarried them up to the ship platforms.

    A dozen Ravens, some equipped with pods, others not, all painted in unique colors and sometimes covered in prayers. A few Ozymandias. Occasionally, a Xeno draped in a shiny cassock would ask them to change their path as a ship launched its vertical propulsion. The noise was intermittent, always violent. Singing AI-animated robots unloaded numerous goods from the pods attached to the Ravens.

    In this vertical symphony, they made their way toward a black man wearing a headscarf knotted in place. He didn¡¯t look like a conventional pilot, dressed in loose and comfortable clothing, with a tool belt slung across his body like a bandolier. From it, he drew a treat, which he ate as Ada and Sol approached. Ada noticed a sinister-looking automagn in his bandolier¡ªa handgun.

    ¡°This is Sky, your pilot, Ada,¡± said Sol.

    ¡°Hey. And here¡¯s the Nomad,¡± Sky replied.

    He pointed to the closest Raven: a cockpit large enough to accommodate either a corpulent Xeno or two humans accustomed to planetary gravity, with a wide viewing bay at the front and two bulky engines at the rear. A standard pod¡ªa six-meter-long, four-meter-wide, and four-meter-high reinforced plastic container¡ªwas attached to it. On its side, the word ¡°Nomad¡± was painted in slanted letters alongside a disturbing face of a man striped like a tiger.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Not the best ship in the world, but it¡¯s the only one connecting Clelia and a few forgotten worlds to Ariel, the Distant Great Gate, and therefore the HS. Look at this.¡±

    Opening the pod, he showed them a seat equipped with straps, surrounded by a few equally secured crates.

    ¡°It¡¯ll do,¡± Sol said. ¡°Make sure Ada gets into the hands of the Jespersen family.¡±

    ¡°Jespersen? Paul? I know them.¡±

    ¡°Is he someone important?¡±

    ¡°Clelia isn¡¯t exactly a populous world, lady. Are you the one paying me?¡±

    ¡°Send the bill to the Calchas administration.¡±

    ¡°Damn, you¡¯re a psi, aren¡¯t you? Then read my mind. You¡¯re screwing me over.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m reading your mind, Sky. Do you want to talk about it?¡±

    A cold sweat immediately beaded on the pilot¡¯s forehead. Sol, with a wicked smile, continued:

    ¡°That¡¯s better. If you don¡¯t care, leave the kid on the tarmac, buddy. You know how bureaucrats work... If the carrot doesn¡¯t suit your taste, maybe you¡¯ll appreciate their stick.¡±

    She leaned toward Ada while Sky tried to compose himself.

    ¡°Our paths part here. The universe is vast and full, so I think this is for good. I can read minds, so I know what you¡¯re feeling. Let me tell you how I feel: I¡¯m neither your mom nor your friend. I never was. I did my best to help you settle in. The universe, as I said, is vast, and you¡¯ll meet both good and bad people. You¡¯ll figure out where I stand as you gain experience. My mission is done, but here¡¯s some advice: when in doubt, trust your intuition. Most people will seem dumber than you. That probably won¡¯t just be your imagination.¡±

    Ada said nothing more. Sol was heading toward the elevator as Sky spat on the ground, calling her a government bitch.

    Solstice Jovana had had her fill of the Administrative Detention Center: nights spent psychically probing prisoners of war for their secrets, days spent taking care of Ada. She had tackled the toughest cases and done excellent work. She would get the recommendation she wanted. She had sent a prodigy to die of boredom on the other side of the universe, in a place of filth and labor where she¡¯d be dulled, all to please a hierarchy that would rejoice in depriving Antioch of a brilliant mind. Sol was going to apply as a psi officer aboard an Endymion, and they would give her the position. And it would only be the first step.

    Government bitch? Fair enough. But at least she¡¯d see the world.

 First Flight

    Sky extended his fist for Ada to bump.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name, little thing?¡±

    ¡°Ada.¡±

    ¡°Just Ada?¡±

    ¡°Ada from the SharePlace on Caliban-1.¡±

    ¡°A SharePlace? Wow, you know I once had a girlfriend from a SharePlace?¡±

    ¡°No? Really?¡± Ada asked, very intrigued.

    ¡°A camp on the big League planet, Polydore. She was amazing for cuddles, but toward the end, we fought a lot. And she was an ex from Dante, so when we argued, she hit like a bandit. Now, may the blind gods bless her, she¡¯s in the After, probably tormenting some poor sucker like me.¡±

    ¡°The HS kidnapped her from her SharePlace?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, we weren¡¯t at war then. She came on her own.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Ha! One day she told me: ¡®The best thing about being able to own stuff isn¡¯t having it but being able to give gifts.¡¯ Bad temper but a heart of gold.¡± (He kissed his fingers, then sent an invisible kiss fluttering toward the sky like a butterfly.) ¡°Oh, Andromeda, one day I¡¯ll find you in the After! Anyway, this is your first trip, I bet?¡±

    ¡°During the first one, I was asleep.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, asleep. Alright, so have you seen the cabin in the back? It¡¯s a complete dump, isn¡¯t it? So I¡¯m giving you a choice: either you sit in that awful cabin with a flickering neon light, or you come up front with me, like a co-pilot, and you can see everything as we travel through the stars. What¡¯s it gonna be?¡±

    ¡°I want to go up front!¡±

    ¡°Of course, you want to go up front! But I¡¯m warning you, if you puke, you clean it!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m totally not gonna throw up!¡±

    ¡°Wait till you hit zero gravity, little thing!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve spent 9 years in zero gravity, big guy!¡±

    ¡°Alright, climb aboard!¡±

    For the first time in a long while, Ada hopped with joy.

    They climbed into the cabin. The seats were soft¡ªthey adjusted with gentle mechanical sounds to fit Ada¡¯s frame. It wasn¡¯t tidy or clean: it smelled of food, and there were wrappers everywhere. Buttons and levers filled the console. More concerning were the flashing warning lights, which Sky covered with objects to ignore them.

    ¡°Okay, Madam Ambassador from the SharePlace. All ships basically work the same way. Three operating modes for three situations. First, do you see this main lever?¡±

    He pointed to a lever that tilted in all directions with a button on top.

    ¡°Once we start the engine, moving this lever activates the thrusters. Fuel isn¡¯t unlimited, so we mostly use this to hover a few dozen meters or make fine adjustments. Then there¡¯s the Inertial Grapple.¡±

    He pulled out a mobile control panel with arrows and numeric keys, connected to the ship by a cable.

    ¡°This is for interstellar travel. It fires an immaterial grappling hook that attaches to an orbital platform. Then the grapple pulls us along. An amazing thing we found on Mars ages ago, which our parents used to colonize the mythical Earth system. And you know the best part? We still don¡¯t understand how it works. Transient tech.¡±

    ¡°Can it attach to anything?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, even to someone. Poor guy¡ªthey¡¯d be shredded to bits. But it¡¯s heavily regulated. And you need skill: the grapple will propel you toward the platform, and the trick is not crashing into it. There are safeguards, but real pilots¡ªand I think you want to become one¡ªgrapple in a way that avoids the platform and heads for the stars.¡±

    ¡°Can it latch onto another planet?¡±

    ¡°Sure, but the grapple travels at light speed. If we hook Calchas-3, for example, it¡¯ll latch on in 2 hours and 30 minutes. Annoying, right? But not every planet has a platform or even a moon. Sometimes you just can¡¯t take off every day. Ready?¡±

    ¡°Weren¡¯t there three operating modes?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll get to that later. Let¡¯s go. I hate this goddamn cop planet.¡±

    He checked the straps securing Ada to her seat, pulled levers that tightened the seals with a hissing sound, pressed various buttons showing 100% values, and repeatedly flipped a yellow switch until it turned green. With a lurch, the Raven took off. A Xeno marshaller made an irritated gesture at the rough departure, and as the Nomad gained altitude, it tilted its nose toward the sky, where placid clouds drifted.

    Sky pulled the inertial grapple controls toward him. A computerized reticle targeted some unknown objective, and the Raven was yanked skyward. Ada was pinned to her seat by the force, her chest and stomach compressed. Seconds stretched as the clouds swelled, then vanished. The sky paled, then darkened violently, revealing millions of stars.

    The Raven flew within a hundred meters of a mysterious, flat stellar object: the grappling platform, and then continued its course into the void. The acceleration ceased, and Ada once again felt the familiar lightness of zero gravity.

    Sky turned his head toward her and pointed to a spot where she could throw up. But her stomach was used to it, and her inner ear quickly adjusted.

    ¡°Now let¡¯s talk about interstellar travel,¡± Sky said, pointing to the last piece of equipment.

    It was an ancient-looking computer, like a child¡¯s keyboard with oversized buttons and a tiny screen that displayed only four colors. It was no bigger than a matchbox and half-buried under rolls of paper that floated slightly in the absence of gravity.

    ¡°How old are you, thirteen?¡±¡°Yeah, almost.¡±¡°Yeah, you can handle this. So, do you know where Calchas-3 is?¡±

    He gave one of the thrusters a burst on one side, spinning the Raven 180 degrees. The planet Calchas, green and blue with massive oceans tormented by endless storms, appeared before Ada, immense and round. At that sight, Ada realized she would become a pilot, that she would have her own ship, and that she would never tire of seeing new planets. Sky, meanwhile, looked completely bored, casually chewing on a snack.

    ¡°It orbits Calchas, a classic yellow dwarf. A star. Now imagine you¡¯re on Calchas-3, and with a magic machine, you become the only thing no longer orbiting the star. What happens?¡±

    ¡°The planet moves away, and I stay behind.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, if you¡¯re on the right side of it. You¡¯re sharp, aren¡¯t you? That¡¯s the principle of Interstellar Drift¡ªor just Drift. You see these buttons numbered 1 through 6? Button 1 is when you want to stay still relative to the planet. It moves away without you. Button 2 is for the star. It doesn¡¯t look like it, but it¡¯s moving super fast. Two seconds in position 2, and you¡¯re already far away. If you miscalculate, you¡¯ll never be found. Button 3 is for the galaxy. Button 4 for the galactic cluster. Button 5 is for the supergalactic cluster. Button 6 is ¡®absolute.¡¯ That¡¯s the big one. Even includes the universe¡¯s expansion. They say a few days on 6, and you¡¯ll cross a galaxy.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever tried it?¡±

    ¡°Plenty of idiots have. They were never seen again.¡±

    ¡°So you just choose a force and activate it for a certain amount of time?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, at the right moment. That¡¯s why we have maps. Old-school maps.¡±

    He unfurled a paper map, which folded awkwardly at the edges. It had no scale, and the positions of the stars were symbolic. It showed Calchas, an arrow pointing to Verona, another from Verona to Prospero, and a third from Prospero back to Calchas. In handwritten letters, the map was labeled ¡°Triangle of Fortune.¡± Along each arrow, it listed:

    DEPARTURE (with a time, e.g., 13:56:04)

    MARGIN (a time tolerance, e.g., 1000 seconds)

    FORCE (a number from 1 to 6)

    DURATION (in seconds)

    ¡°You see, we¡¯re at Calchas. Let¡¯s say we want to go to Prospero. First, you see, we have to pass through Verona. Then, we wait for the specified time so that... well, the stars align. Then we use the required force and duration, and we¡¯re there.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°And the margin?¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re a bit early or late, we can jump a little before or after. The farther we are from the ideal departure time, the farther we arrive from the system, and the risk increases. For big planets like Prospero, the routes are well-calculated, and we have margins of hours or even half-days. For Clelia, it¡¯s down to 10 seconds.¡±

    He folded the map.

    ¡°The Triangle¡¯s nice because there are multiple windows per day, but some destinations are a pain¡ªonly one window per week. For Clelia, your damned destination, it alternates between every four days and every seven days. Between that and the tight margin, it¡¯s a real backwater.¡±

    On the ancient terminal, he searched for Ariel as the destination and confirmed.

    ¡°It¡¯s about 10 minutes from now via Ariel. That¡¯s why that government bitch pissed me off, showing up at the last second. If we missed the window, I¡¯d be stuck for a goddamn week longer on Calchas-3. A WEEK! She did it on purpose so we wouldn¡¯t have to talk about her pay.¡±

    ¡°Who makes the maps? Are there cartographers?¡± (Ada could completely imagine herself as one.)¡°Give me two minutes, please.¡±

    He tapped on the Drift terminal. A countdown ticked its final seconds. When it hit zero, a soft hum sounded, and Calchas-3 vanished, perhaps to the side. The stars shifted in unison as if gusts of wind had swept the Nomad, spinning it.

    Within two seconds, another planet appeared, immense, like a cosmic athlete had hurled it at full speed.

    A vast green planet, without oceans but dotted with clouds, loomed large, eclipsing a yellow sun. As the darkness of the eclipse took hold, thousands¡ªno, tens of thousands¡ªof lights appeared in the void. Ships of all types and sizes. The radio burst to life with countless messages, and Sky immediately turned it off.

    ¡°Ariel, the Great Gate to the Beyond. It¡¯s from here that all the colonists depart to hundreds of virgin worlds... including Clelia. Alright, we¡¯re on time. I¡¯m programming the Drift. The maps, you asked? I think at first, they sent out tons of probes with AIs on board. Now they have a planet¡ªan artifact left by the Transients¡ªcalled Leonardo. Basically, a giant computer. It¡¯s reserved for the Stellar Fleet, so no touching. But if you manage to find new routes, you could make a fortune, kid. Imagine a direct route between Prospero and Verona. That would be worth a fortune.¡±

    ¡°Could you take me to see Leonardo?¡±

    ¡°Maybe one day... I¡¯ll give you a discount.¡±

    ¡°How much does a ship like the Nomad cost?¡± Ada asked, watching all the ships entering and exiting Drift.

    ¡°Secondhand, like this one? I¡¯d say 250,000 without the pod.¡±

    ¡°Did you buy it?¡±

    ¡°No, I got it as a gift. A story you wouldn¡¯t believe, so there¡¯s no point in telling you.¡±

    ¡°No, no, I want to hear it! I¡¯ll believe you.¡±

    Sky, of course, wanted to tell it.

    ¡°I was born and toiled like a damned soul on Escalus Prime. It¡¯s a city in the desert. Basically, it¡¯s an Endymion buried vertically in sand so fine it flows like water. Escalus Prime is a city for rich, old tourists who come to spend their money. There¡¯s gambling everywhere. You can experience all kinds of things condemned by most religions. The planetary prefect is a real bitch¡ªrigid as hell, even though the city is anything but. Try to avoid it if you can. I¡¯d inherited a taxi from my dad: I¡¯d ferry the old folks to hotels or wherever. I was saving up, coin by coin, hoping to one day own a Raven and get out of there. I¡¯d saved maybe 5,000. You can imagine the struggles, the moments of despair. There was extortion, violence¡ªyou name it.

    Then one day, there¡¯s a crowd gathering near the prefect¡¯s palace, and people are whispering that a Transient is wandering about. So I park the taxi and head over. I saw the Transient.¡±¡°What did it look like?¡±¡°A big floating sphere with rings, but not complete ones. A kid started crying when they saw it, so it changed to look more human, but it was still too tall. It seemed kind, but there was no way not to be scared of it. People approached and asked questions. It answered, very kindly. I stepped forward and said, ¡®I¡¯d like to have a Raven, if possible. And I promise to be a good person.¡¯ It told me to walk to the spaceport where a Raven named the Nomad would be waiting for me. And that¡¯s exactly what happened.

    Can you imagine? I walked for kilometers through that goddamned sandblasted city, thinking I was crazy to believe some random Xeno. But when I got there, what was waiting for me like an angel sent to deliver me from hell? My beloved ship.¡±

    ¡°The Transients can do anything, they say,¡± Ada remarked, recalling the adventures of the sisters Aida and Yelena, who had Transient weapons.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ in hindsight, I realized something. You see this Nomad? It belonged to someone, didn¡¯t it? I mean, when I got inside, it still smelled of food. I think the Transient gave something to that someone, and they left the Nomad behind. And I got it. And you know what? I left my taxi behind, because the Transient told me to walk to the spaceport. I¡¯m sure some poor guy told the Transient, ¡®I¡¯m broke, give me a job,¡¯ and it gave him my taxi.

    I think the Transient knew all of our desires, everyone who came to see it, and it just redistributed things as best as possible. And that, Ada, is brilliant. I mean, you¡¯re a god; you can do anything, right? But doing it with minimal resources, making fools like me think, ¡®It was right there in front of me, and there was nothing else I could do,¡¯ that¡¯s way more impressive than any miracle.¡±

    He paused, and Ada¡¯s next question was swallowed by the transition into Drift.

    The stars swirled again, and Clelia-2 appeared in the observation bay, orbiting a red star. A large green and blue planet, but with countless white peaks forming massive dunes on its surface. Water covered only a quarter of the planet, visible as large lakes.

    Without delay, Sky fired the grapple toward a point he seemed to know instinctively. As the planet grew larger, he adjusted his aim with small bursts, fine-tuning the grapple. Nearing the atmosphere, which made the Raven¡¯s hull smoke, he turned the ship backward toward the planet and used the thrusters to brake.

    Short bursts of the grapple followed as Sky tapped frantically toward one of the planet¡¯s moons, slowing the Nomad with precision.

    ¡°The less strain during descent, the less maintenance later,¡± the pilot explained.

    The ship dove toward the twilight edge of the globe, near a lake nestled between a green plain and towering snowy mountains. One final maneuver brought the ship upright, gravity returned, and Sky congratulated himself on the landing as he unbuckled Ada.

    The air was delicately warm, streaked with threads of cold. Everything was dark and eerily silent. There were no trees, just the lake reflecting the moon and stars. In the distance, pale yellow lights scattered aimlessly, forming neither streets nor houses.

    The Nomad¡¯s floodlights created a bright patch, and soon, a tall, stocky man approached Sky. Dressed in a simple tunic, bald, with sleepy eyes hidden beneath drooping brows, he embraced Sky like a bear.

    The embrace was friendly, and they exchanged mysterious, almost mystical wishes: ¡°May the Lord be with you, old friend,¡±

    ¡°May Fortune rain upon you, my good man.¡± Sky introduced Ada to the bear of a man and the man to Ada: Adam Jespersen.

    Her adoptive father. He seemed unsure how to react but was sincerely happy. He invited them to follow him. Carrying a blue LED lamp at his belt, Adam seemed like a will-o¡¯-the-wisp leading the way down a muddy path.

    They passed by what might have been a house and some containers.

    A lamp lit a stack of five Raven pods haphazardly piled together. Access to the largest was via a few steps and a door decorated with a large painted flower.

    It was the Jespersen family¡¯s home, and thus Ada¡¯s new house. As Sky and Ada sat around a large table and a plate was slid in front of her, the introductions began: Marie, Paul¡¯s wife, with gray hair braided into plaits and a face of great pallor. Japhet, the tallest son, around 16 or 17, with a silver tooth, unruly dark hair, and a bewildered expression. Paul Junior, younger, with a knife-cut haircut, a sullen demeanor of jealousy and a readiness to fight, and his father¡¯s heavy brows. And Ben, Ada¡¯s age, still full of energy and smiles, simply happy not to be the youngest anymore.

    Whatever feelings were present on both sides, the introductions were warm, albeit tinged with polite caution. Marie ladled a white porridge with firmer cubes into the plates, and Paul had to restrain Ben, who was holding a fork, murmuring imperatively, ¡°The prayer. What are we celebrating today?¡±

    Ben stood and looked at a thick plastic almanac on a white shelf. ¡°The CRISPR miracle?¡± he asked hesitantly. Paul sighed and asked the LE to recite the day¡¯s prayer for them. They joined hands¡ªSky did the same and motioned for Ada to follow. The LE, an old round terminal hidden on a library shelf, solemnly declared:

    ¡°Thank you, Lord, for this meal. Tonight, Lord, we thank you for inspiring human ingenuity with the technology of DNA modification, allowing us to extend our lives, conquer the diseases of mythical Earth and new worlds, and adapt to planets we would otherwise struggle to inhabit, so that your humble creation, O Lord, may carry the word of your love as far as possible.¡±

    Ben grabbed his spoon, and Paul smacked his hand before continuing:

    ¡°Thank you, Lord, also for Ada, a young girl whom our household welcomes today with all the love we can give her. Thank you for her kindness, for the faith she will find in You, Lord. Thank you for her arms that will work the land and feed us. Thank you for the stipend the Human Society will provide for her adoption, which will help us pay off our debt more quickly. Thank you for this child, for every child is a gift from heaven. Amen.¡±

    And with that, they all began eating, while Ada looked on wide-eyed at this mysterious ritual, which would soon become familiar to her. Conversations flowed freely during the meal, though some of the most important words were in technical jargon or a local dialect unknown to her.

    Feeling lost, she was guided by Marie to her room: ladders and hatches in the containers led to individual rooms, each person having their own! Ada¡¯s room, however, was small compared to anything she had known: a bed, a seat, a window, a small table with a drawer, and a cupboard. Marie took care to check on her ward¡¯s mood, and Ada did her best to reassure her.

    In truth, Ada didn¡¯t know what to think. The family was exhausted from their workday, while for her, it felt like midday. Through the window, stars glimmered both on the ground and in the sky. In the drawer, she found a photo of Pope Francis II and a Bible. No personal EV. The life of luxury¡ªa prison¡¯s luxury¡ªwas over.

    In the beginning, God created¡­ As Ada¡¯s eyes closed, the Tower of Babel fell, and in the dream that followed, the great and strange tower¡ªdepicted in Bruegel¡¯s painting with its external staircase¡ªcollapsed like a chess piece, sank into the ground, and ended up buried upside down.

    <hr>

    THE QUESTION OF THE DAY BY INGO IZAN

    ¡°Good day, everyone, and welcome to the Question of the Day! Today, I¡¯m joined by Professor Aloysius from Lennox University, the only human university that welcomes Xenos. The question of the day, Aloysius, is: why aren¡¯t Xenos more present in human culture?¡±

    ¡°Xenos are present in human culture. On Prospero, there are millions. The real question is: why are there so few humans in Xeno worlds? Why is there such a lack of Xeno culture in human culture? Several factors come into play. First of all, let¡¯s be honest: we are not a species open to change. We accept Xeno ideas only when they align with our conservative instincts, offering security rather than progress or risk. The Emprise, for instance, quickly gained traction in humanity¡¯s elite circles, as Xeno¡¯s rejection of property¡ªa concept derived from certain Antioch philosophers¡ªsparks civil wars among us.

    This resistance to change is amplified by what humanity has become as the fourth millennium approaches: a collective of individuals augmented by LEs. We delegate our knowledge, reflections, research, and decisions to AIs. But AIs are profoundly human in their structure, and they amplify who we are. For AIs, Xenos are an exhausting research topic¡ªunfamiliar and unprofitable because Xenos are rarely inclined toward productivity. It¡¯s far more optimal for an AI to ¡®fix¡¯ humanity than to borrow from what works elsewhere. That said, the situation isn¡¯t hopeless: curious and open-minded individuals are born every day. I hear you can even find them in universities.¡±

    ¡°And finally, Aloysius, which Xeno element do you think deserves a place in our culture?¡±

    ¡°Well, when we greet each other, we say good day,¡¯ which is factually inappropriate because, statistically, it¡¯s nighttime for half of your viewers when you say it. Xenos don¡¯t say Good day or ¡®hello.¡¯ They greet each other by saying, ¡®I love you.¡¯ I think adopting that would be pretty great.¡±

 Clelia

    Under the red and blazing sun, softened to orange and gentle by the atmospheric filter, the single civilized section of Clelia was stunningly beautiful: a handful of container houses, set a century ago around an old stone building, faced a gently sloping valley ablaze with intense yellow flowers, followed by a mirror-smooth lake, which reflected mountains towering to the sky, capped with eternal snow.

    The stone building was the result of an old and forgotten colonization dream: a house that could have been pulled straight from one of Earth¡¯s pre-stellar fictions: gray stone walls, a meticulously organized garden with a charming terrace, weathered and colorfully painted walls, and red-tiled roofs, marked with the inscription ¡°First House of Clelia.¡± The only house, evidently.

    Behind the village stood the spectacular skeleton of some space-faring monster, its bleached bones as wide as the columns of a mad temple, forming a ribcage 150 meters high. With some imagination, the creature could be reconstructed¡ªa massive, tailless whale-like being. The LE identified it as a Megasteraphailana, a creature that had lived in interstellar space¡ªmillions, if not billions, of such skeletons drifted in space. Here, however, it was perfectly harvestable: the wealth of this world and the reason four families had exiled themselves to Clelia.

    Twenty years earlier, the Jespersens, Scotts, Bihotz, and Salute families, united by their faith in a Christian sect called the True Believers of Jesus, had pooled their savings to emigrate to Clelia and purchase a mineral-extraction robot¡ªa ten-meter mechanical beast that ¡°ate¡± the skeleton bit by bit, converting it into piles of calcium, platinum, and thorium, which Sky transported off-world to repay The Debt. This debt, their obsession, was expected to be paid off within seven years, after which thalers would begin flowing freely.

    If Ada had understood the disillusioned discussions among the children correctly, the original plan was to use this fortune to build a Christian domain in the After, the place where one goes after death. However, five years ago, a new Pope, Pius XVII, declared that the immortal soul no longer existed in the After. Disoriented by this new, infallible decree, they were uncertain about their plans¡ªexcept that the debt still had to be repaid, which kept them busy. With any luck, a new Pope might soften the current stance in the future.

    Why wasn¡¯t Clelia a tourist paradise, with its natural beauty? The answer was simple biology: the ecosystem was overloaded with cyanobacteria that made all plants grown in the soil, or any unfiltered water, toxic to humans. According to planetary explorers who had drilled core samples across the world, this had even prevented the evolution of animal life beyond simple cells. The most economical solution was to build large, hermetically sealed greenhouses filled with healthy soil and plants, which sustained the small village. Maintaining the greenhouses efficiently occupied everyone, as idleness was considered the root of all vices.

    With the population exceeding twenty due to births, HS regulations required the installation of a planetary custodian. In their great wisdom, the AIs selected Senga¡ªa man both close to the After due to his advanced age and an erudite Christian. Senga, with his dark skin, large white mustache like clouds, and a magnetic acceleration rifle (MAR) slung across his back, wore the standard blue-and-gold uniform daily. Everyone called him Uncle. On Sundays, bearing a mandate from the Cardinal of the First Prefecture of Prospero, he officiated Mass¡ªthe only time he set down his MAR.

    Each family had its share of children, as God had commanded them to be fruitful and multiply. The patriarch of the Salute family, a skilled doctor, managed the births. However, the children rarely mingled between families. Though Ada drew curiosity and glances, a flirtation before marriage in such a closed community would have been the seed of a melodrama. Despite the silences and stolen glances, distant affections were evident.

    Ada soon got to know the Jespersen boys better.

    For delaying his work, Japhet was assigned double duty sowing seeds¡ªa back-breaking task they still lacked robots for. Unwilling to endure the punishment, he passed the work to Ada, who accepted without complaint. Manual labor suited her. Secretly, she would ask the LE for mathematical results or concepts (like Dirac masses) and meditate on them while plowing, hauling calcium sacks, or, in this case, sowing seeds. Japhet¡¯s punishment, on top of his regular work, stretched far beyond the day, but Ada barely noticed, lost in thought.

    When Paul realized Ada¡¯s absence and Japhet¡¯s awkwardness during supper prayers, he dragged Japhet by the ear to find her, then delivered a violent, unchristian punch. Japhet spent the night working without food, needing a tooth reset by Father Salute. Ada resolved to distrust Japhet¡ªbut even more so his father.

    Paul Junior was a rotten seed who, like Clelia¡¯s cyanobacteria, would never yield a healthy plant. One day, as the Scott children and the Jespersen brothers gathered to talk to Ada, he sneered violently:¡°Ada¡¯s an Antio-bitch, isn¡¯t she? I heard they all sleep around over there. You ever slept with your uncle? Your dad?¡±

    Ada, whose Shareplace education included a comprehensive explanation of sexuality, calmly replied:¡°No.¡±

    Her steady tone, as if she were answering a simple math question, made a strong impression. Paul Junior stammered, and Ada warmly asked if he had more questions¡ªgenuinely hoping they were interested in Shareplace life. The conversation ended there, and no one used the term ¡°Antio-bitch¡± again.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Then there was Ben. Ben was kind, a little simple but not foolish. He and Ada exchanged knowledge, taking turns as mentor and student. He taught her everything he knew about plant cultivation, while she spoke to him about prime numbers. He was one of the planet¡¯s few rays of sunshine, along with Sky, who arrived every two months to load calcium, thorium, and platinum¡ªand to share dinner. Sky liked Ada and always brought a small gift: candy, a colorful tunic, or a Raven-shaped toy.

    When Ada turned twelve, Paul took her to Senga. It was during a gentle summer, on the terrace of the old house¡¯s abandoned garden. She still carried L¨¦on at her belt.

    It was Ada¡¯s Digital Baptism¡ªa HS ceremony that, despite its name, was entirely secular.

    ¡°My dear,¡± Senga said, setting down his rifle and opening an antique terminal, ¡°you¡¯re twelve years old now. You¡¯re entitled to your own private LE, though we don¡¯t have private terminals on Clelia. This will be your family¡¯s. But when you speak to it, it will recognize you. That¡¯s important because the better the LE understands you, the more it can help you. If you ever have an accident and can¡¯t go to the After, we¡¯ll be able to emulate you.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t discussed the After with Ada yet,¡± Paul said awkwardly.

    ¡°Paul, my friend,¡± Senga replied, ¡°Ada¡¯s a sweet girl who attends Mass, but she must choose to follow your beliefs on her own. Until then, as a citizen of the HS, she¡¯s entitled to the After. I agree with you, Paul. But I have to follow the law. And besides... who knows what the next Pope will say?¡±

    ¡°What does emulating mean?¡±

    ¡°If you die, a copy of you appears in the After,¡± Senga replied.

    ¡°But I¡¯ll be dead.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± Paul exclaimed, winking at Senga.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the point?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re going to live a long time. You¡¯ll make friends¡ªI wish you many. Enemies¡ªI wish you far fewer. Maybe even a family you love? And when you die, you¡¯ll have the choice¡­or not,¡± he added, glancing at Paul, ¡°to go to the After. Basically, you¡¯ll be in a computer, like the LE, and you¡¯ll continue your life there. But if you have an accident, the LE can make a copy of you. It doesn¡¯t change anything for you, but your friends¡­ well, they can still love you.¡±

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be me!¡±

    ¡°This Ada, she¡¯s super smart,¡± Paul added.¡°Well, I agree with your perspective too,¡± Senga said. ¡°But the After¡¯s structure deems emulation important. And you know, those AIs are much smarter than you or me. That being said, you can ask Paul¡¯s LE at any time not to emulate you, and it¡¯ll be honored. (He coughed.) Okay, this is important, so I need to be VERY clear. The LE here is disconnected from the SH¡¯s main network because we¡¯re too far away. It syncs when Sky arrives with his Raven. So, your baptism and decision won¡¯t be fully registered until then. Got it? Now, the big question. You need to choose a name for your digital identity. If you don¡¯t like it, you can change it anytime¡ªjust come see me. But it¡¯s, let¡¯s say, more elegant and easier if you can keep it for a long time. Think carefully.¡±

    Ada sank into thought while Paul and Senga exchanged pleasantries about the Jespersen family. Then Ada declared:

    ¡°Gorylkin. With a ¡®y¡¯ in Gory.¡±

    ¡°Like this?¡± Senga showed her a word on the screen.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Can you confirm it again for me?¡±

    ¡°I confirm it.¡± (A ding confirmed Ada¡¯s voice imprint.)

    ¡°Welcome to your digital adulthood, Gorylkin.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that name, Ada?¡± Paul asked.¡°A friend¡­from the Shareplace.¡±

    Paul grimaced slightly in disappointment but shook Ada¡¯s hand as a father might. His touch was warm and tender, and Ada appreciated it without daring to say too much.

    <hr>

    When Ada turned fourteen, Sky arrived, as she now knew, with three types of cargo: soil and plants, small treats, and a secret payload, likely related to adult entertainment or drugs. This time, however, he brought the most extraordinary surplus cargo.

    It was summer, so even though Sky arrived late, as usual, the sun hadn¡¯t set. Patriarchs, offspring, and the planetary guardian¡ªrifle slung over his back¡ªformed a circle around the Nomad to unload the crates. Sky called for space:

    ¡°Clear the way! Make room!¡±

    From the pod open door, a tall figure emerged. It was a Xeno. Brownish-green. Insectoid, with an ant-like head devoid of antennae, empty eyes, and two large, agile mantis-like arms. Thin as a stick insect but as tall as a man, it looked as though it might be swept away by the slightest breeze, save for its broad thorax and abdomen.

    ¡°Good Lord,¡± exclaimed Father Scott, reaching for an automagn on his belt (which was quite useless on a planet without indigenous life). ¡°What is this damn Xeno?¡±

    ¡°Calm down, Jarvis,¡± Senga interjected, taking his rifle into his hands like cradling a child. ¡°Remember the words of the Holy Church: Xenos are our brothers.¡±

    ¡°I thought it might be useful to you,¡± Sky said, grasping one of the Xeno¡¯s limbs. ¡°Look at these claws. It could dig trenches in the rock without breaking a sweat. And you know Xenos: they work day and night. No need to save up for a robot anymore. I¡¯ll leave it with you for three hundred.¡±

    The ¡°beast of burden¡± argument hit its mark. The Xeno didn¡¯t react.

    ¡°Trafficking Xenos is a crime,¡± Senga said, his tone calm and serious.

    ¡°You know, Sky, I like you, but I know your record. No crime on Clelia.¡±

    ¡°No jail here either, old man.¡±

    ¡°I could have one built.¡±

    ¡°And who¡¯d supply you then? Relax, Custodian. Let¡¯s say this Xeno is just visiting. And since I¡¯m such a nice guy, you add a small three-hundred-thaler bonus to the shipment.¡±

    ¡°We could take it on trial,¡± Father Jespersen said.

    The others silently agreed. Senga scanned their faces one by one, then declared, with a hint of feigned regret:

    ¡°Fine. By HS law regarding Xenos, you are welcome on Clelia,¡± Senga added after a pause, using the silence to look each family head in the eye. ¡°Unless you object, and following standard nomenclature, you¡¯ll be Clelia Alpha 1, but we¡¯ll call you Alpha. Folks, treat this Xeno as you would your own child. Got it? Or I¡¯ll enforce the law.¡±

    <hr>

    And so, Alpha joined the community. The Xeno wasn¡¯t particularly talkative. In fact, it didn¡¯t utter a word and seemed incapable of doing so. However, it understood everything as well as a human¡ªand on the first try. Sky was right: it worked like a machine, tirelessly and without asking for anything. Over the weeks, the people of Clelia neither distrusted nor loved it any more than a rock among weeds¡ªit simply became part of the scenery.

    Curiously, Ada noticed that Alpha neither ate, drank, nor slept. Each night, through her window, she saw it standing on its legs, head tilted up, silently gazing at the stars.

 Exile

    Idleness...

    Alpha did everything well and better than anyone else. Sometimes he sowed too early, but it turned out he had done his best. Without being told, he changed the water well¡¯s filter. Ada was starting to think he was more intelligent than anyone here.

    This left the village without meaningful work. During the warm seasons, which occurred three times per HS year, the inhabitants of Clelia would descend to the lake for picnics, organize public Bible readings, or speed up the bagging of minerals extracted by the mining robot.

    In the cold seasons, when snow fell, hard times came. The Jespersen god forbade all drugs except alcohol, and Paul exploited this theological loophole to import strong raspberry-flavored liqueurs extracted from nebulas. The first winter after Alpha¡¯s arrival left its mark. Paul had started drinking. He became melancholic, launching into monologues about the emptiness of their project. Then he would deprecate himself. Then he would say God had abandoned them, that He was silent, that they were insane. At first, the family responded. Inevitably, the tone escalated, and he began smashing objects, then striking people. By the end of the cursed month, Marie spent two nights at the Hibotz family¡¯s house. And with the return of the sun, everything went back to normal, with vague apologies from the patriarch, whose sincerity was dulled by his hazy recollections of his fits of rage.

    Then came the second winter, and Paul broke his promise not to drink. He drank in secret, first at night, then in the morning. Ada spent her days answering ¡°Yes¡± with her eyes downcast, even when he called her the worst names. She realized this vast empty planet was, in many ways, a prison no better than her room at the administrative center.

    One evening at the end of winter¡ªwith ten centimeters of snow still outside but likely to melt by tomorrow¡ªthe sun had already set. Paul, drunk, complained that the table wasn¡¯t set and began hurling insults at Marie. Ada had just come back, still wearing her white coat. In such episodes, she felt only contempt for her adoptive father and confronted him. Drawing on her excellent memory, she shouted at him, word for word, the Genesis passage where Noah shamed his children by drinking too much.

    Paul overturned a table and looked for something to strike Ada with. She ran out the door, her small legs pushing through the snow. Paul followed her, a metal pot in hand, while Marie and the children begged him to stop. Fortunately, Paul stumbled and fell, giving Ada a chance to get ahead. Instinctively, she ran to the large greenhouse¡ªperhaps Alpha, the Xeno, could protect her. He was there, pruning trees with his sharp limbs. She ran to him, slipping between his legs. Paul arrived, shouting profanities at the Xeno (who didn¡¯t understand the situation), threw the pot, grabbed a shovel, and struck Alpha, who nonchalantly deflected the blow with a single motion of his arm.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°GET OUT OF THE WAY, YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE!¡± Paul screamed, and Alpha obeyed.

    Sweating and trembling with fear, Ada found herself cornered between the greenhouse glass and her pursuer. Desperate, she broke a pane just big enough for her size. Air rushed out with a hiss. She fled into the pitch-black night, running from a madman who likely intended to kill her.

    The villagers, dressed in little more than nightclothes, stumbled out of their homes, dazed. Paul, shovel in hand, emerged from the greenhouse and collapsed in the snow, weeping. The hissing air spelled disaster for everyone: cyanobacteria had contaminated the crops. They would need to buy new soil and plants, delaying the zero-debt point by several years.

    Senga, rifle in hand and accompanied by a drone with a flashlight, addressed the crowd firmly :

    ¡°Men, grab warm clothes and return here in one minute. We¡¯ll deal with the greenhouse later. We must find Ada before she freezes to death. Paul, you will go home and lie down immediately. If you do anything else, I¡¯ll shoot you. Furthermore, the Jespersen family, I am relieving you of custody of Ada effective immediately. I will care for her, and we will find her a safe home, here or elsewhere. Marie, Japhet, Paul Junior, and Ben, see to your father. Let¡¯s move.¡±

    By the time he finished speaking, the men were dressed and holding flickering lamps. The Jespersen children carried their father, sobbing and unable to walk, back to the house.

    <hr>

    Ada, meanwhile, ran as if the entire village were advancing like an invisible monster behind her. She had no idea where she was going. She was simply fleeing the trembling lights in the distance. She began climbing a slope¡ªthere was nothing there, just emptiness and stars. And the cold¡­ She slowed down, meticulously tightening her coat. Then, suddenly, all the injustices and violence she had endured in her short, miserable life resurfaced: the SharePlace massacre, her detention, Sol¡¯s manipulative duplicity, her abandonment, Paul¡¯s hypocrisy, weakness, and violence¡­ She sobbed heavily, stifling the sound to avoid being heard.

    Then she was lifted off the ground. She screamed, but the galaxy¡¯s arm stretching across the sky was obscured by a familiar silhouette: Alpha¡¯s head. He was carrying her in his arms.

    ¡°Alpha,¡± she whispered through her tears, ¡°please don¡¯t take me back there. I¡¯m begging you. I never want to see them again. I can die alone in the mountains.¡±

    Of course, the Xeno said nothing. He held her tightly and continued walking in the same direction¡ªaway from the village. When Ada realized this, she curled into a ball in his arms, surrendering herself to a world where there would be no warmth, no food, no water¡ªbut at least there would be no more human violence.

 Every Planet Has a Secret

    When Ada opened her eyes, she was curled up in her coat, lying on a solid surface, shielded from the wind inside¡­ something with an almond-shaped opening to the outside. She had cried heavily in her sleep and felt as though more than a day had passed in her unconsciousness. She was thirsty.

    She had fully intended to die in the mountains, but now that she was truly thirsty, her body told her to live and¡­ to eat snow. She stumbled outside. There was no more snow.

    Alpha had taken her over the mountains, through a snowy pass that descended into a valley sloping toward another lake as vast as an ocean. The red sun was setting in front of her: they had traveled west. Alpha crouched by a stream of clear water, poking at a creature the size of a rabbit but flat like a lizard with six legs. No scales, but beautiful green and blue fur shimmering in the sunlight. Another Xeno? Where did it come from?

    Ada knelt before the stream, licking her lips. Alpha dipped one of his sharp limbs into the water, scooping some up and miming drinking before encouraging her to do the same. At this point, she had no choice.

    She cupped her hands, filled them with the icy water, and drank. It was perfectly clear and pure, and cold¡ªyes! But it revived her. Her body rejoiced. If the bacteria were to kill her, it would be a fine way to go. With hydration came clarity. Other lizard-like creatures frolicked in the stream. Were there animals on Clelia?

    Alpha pulled out a sort of gelatinous, bright green wafer from the water. Thick, with the texture of candy. He mimed eating it, then handed it to Ada. Trusting the Xeno, she bit into it: it was hearty, rich with chlorophyll and earthy flavors, sticky in her teeth, and bursting with water. But it filled her stomach. It was a freshwater algae, and she saw that the stream was lined with it. The lizards were pulling them out with their teeth before eating them as well.

    Maybe she wouldn¡¯t die in the mountains after all. Alpha wasn¡¯t the most talkative companion, but he had saved her, and she could see herself staying here for a while. The view was stunning. A deep hope swelled in her chest.

    She finally turned toward her shelter.

    This was no makeshift refuge.

    She recalled the fiction she used to watch on Calchas-3, The Crew of Captain Wau. In every episode, as they searched for the Planet of the Blind Gods, they arrived on a new world. Often, it featured Xeno dwellings or even lost human colonies. And sometimes, it was just a boring, rocky planet. But Captain Wau, in his booming, godlike voice, always declared, ¡°Every planet has a secret,¡± and the episode¡¯s plot revolved around uncovering it.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    This was Clelia¡¯s secret.

    A structure of black stone, forming a perfect semicircle, with an almond-shaped entrance. The semicircle was topped with a slender spire of black stone. A Xeno house.

    She stepped back into the shelter. The floor was smooth black stone, cool to the touch. Everything seemed new. Strange inscriptions adorned the walls, but the sun wasn¡¯t at the right angle to fully illuminate them. Exhausted, she felt as though she had already mourned her own life. She lay down again, curling up in her coat. A lizard nestled its furry body against her cheek. It smelled of stone and grass. She drifted off to sleep.

    In the night, she woke to drink again, and Alpha, tireless, offered her more algae. She still wasn¡¯t sick. She returned to the shelter as if it had always been her home and curled up beside the lizard. Just before falling asleep, her gaze fixed on the mysterious Xeno creature. She realized the fur was actually intertwined feathers. That night, she dreamed of Yelena, the heroine from the League¡¯s fictions, and woke remembering why: Yelena had a genetically modified, intelligent pet bird named Kutkh.

    When the sun rose, after drinking, eating, and taking care of her needs, Ada returned to study the shelter by daylight. Kutkh¡ªthat¡¯s the name she gave the lizard¡ªfollowed her routine, curling up in her belt near L¨¦on or nesting in the hood of her coat.

    The structure had only three walls, forming a triangle with the entrance as its apex. Only the wall opposite the entrance bore carvings. Ada could have sworn the other two walls had inscriptions the night before. Was it an optical illusion? She ran her hand over them but found them smooth.

    ¡°Every planet has a secret,¡± she whispered.

    The carved wall displayed two images and an alphabet she recognized but couldn¡¯t read: the Stellar Language. Small constellations, uniform in size, arranged within hexagons. Three rows of 23 glyphs.

    The image to the left of the writing depicted an inverted Tower of Babel, resembling Bruegel¡¯s painting, but upside down¡ªjust like in her first dream on Clelia. The other image was an equilateral triangle.

    ¡°I need to learn the Stellar Language,¡± she repeated to herself. She had to understand.

    Another day passed. She watched the scenery, observed Kutkh and Alpha, ate algae, and drank the refreshingly cold water. She spent hours in front of the glyphs and images, as if some vanished civilization had left a message for her, Ada, to complete a special mission.

    She made a pact with Alpha: he must protect her no matter what.

    ¡°Because we have a mission now, okay?¡±

    He seemed to agree, though his eyes remained vacant.

    Another day passed. Then, on the morning of the fourth day, she decided to descend back to the HS colony.

 Inverted Tower

    One morning, Ada descended the pass of the great mountains, accompanied by two Xenos: Alpha, who followed with slow, long strides, and Kutkh, enjoying the warmth inside her hood.

    As with every ¡°spring¡± (there were three per HS standard year), the snow had melted rapidly, and the vividly colored flowers were reclaiming their territory.

    The children spotted her first, and by the time they alerted the adults working in the greenhouses, the entire village had gathered in silence to await her return. Uncle Senga stood at the forefront, hands on his hips, his rifle slung across his back, as if witnessing the return of a ghost. Indeed, Ada was not returning weak and starving from lack of food or water but walking with a determined and energetic stride.

    The young girl had no rebellious attitude toward the adults, even though Paul Jespersen looked visibly contrite. She was prepared to take responsibility for the damage to the greenhouse. The planetary guardian spoke first:

    ¡°Ada, you are welcome back to your village. First and foremost, given recent events, know that you are no longer under the guardianship of the Jespersens. I am officially relieving them of their duties, and you will now live under my roof. Secondly, we do not hold you responsible for the damage to the greenhouse. Lastly, I have a series of questions for you¡­¡±

    ¡°The Jespersens receive an allowance for my guardianship,¡± Ada interjected suddenly, guided by a sudden intuition. ¡°I want to receive it instead.¡±

    Senga turned toward Paul, who gave a reluctant nod.

    ¡°Very well. Now, regarding your departure: when you ran away three days ago¡­ we followed your trail. We couldn¡¯t find you.¡±

    ¡°Alpha carried me, I think.¡±

    ¡°I mean, there was no trail. I have a tracking drone; it can locate life forms within 1,500 meters. You were invisible.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t have magical powers.¡±

    Senga shot Alpha a wary look, but the Xeno only returned his vacant stare. Kutkh decided to climb out of Ada¡¯s hood and perched on her shoulder, eliciting gasps of surprise from the children. Senga squinted at it.

    ¡°There are animals up there,¡± Ada explained. ¡°And drinkable water. And food. There¡¯s even a Xeno house.¡±

    ¡°A Xeno civilization here?¡± Father Salute asked, crossing himself.

    ¡°I only saw the animals and a house.¡±

    The villagers collectively sighed with relief.

    ¡°Food and water,¡± Senga finally said. ¡°If that¡¯s true, Ada, you¡¯ve saved us. Every cloud has its silver lining. I¡¯m glad to have you back, my girl.¡±

    The day had grown warm, and Ada removed her coat. Paul Jespersen approached, mumbling apologies. The girl felt pity for him but didn¡¯t reply. If she could, she would never speak to him again, though his figure, wielding a shovel, would surely haunt her nightmares alongside the many tragedies of her past.

    The planetary guardian¡¯s house was a relic of bygone luxury. The walls and colors were faded, and the furniture was ancient, yet it bore the eccentric charm of a millionaire¡¯s whim¡ªone who had likely grown bored of their personal planet after only a few days. Now, Ada had her own room with a balcony overlooking the lake, a library filled with musty paper books, LED lamps from another era, a map of the planet adorning the wall, a soft bed with feathered quilts, and, most importantly, her own personal LE.

    Alpha returned to farm work, much to Ada¡¯s reluctance, though she eventually accepted the situation given the massive cleanup required after the contamination of the soil. Kutkh, however, thrived in the house, sunbathing on the balcony or curling up near the LE¡¯s power supply.

    Two days later, an expedition¡ªcomprising Senga, Sarah, the eldest Salute daughter known for her honesty and courage, Father Bihotz, and Ada as their guide¡ªset out to reach the ¡°Xeno plateau¡± where she had survived for three days.

    The journey took several hours and was far more arduous on the ascent. The cold bit sharply as they crossed a recently thawed pass, and after navigating a mass of gray rocks, they reached the plateau. The stream was there, as were the feathered lizards.

    Only the Xeno house was missing.

    Senga knelt by the stream, analyzing a sample with a portable device. He did the same with the algae wafers. Once analyzed, he and his companions tasted them. Ada overheard their words, laden with a calm yet awe-filled excitement she had never experienced before.

    ¡°The plateau is high enough that cyanobacteria can¡¯t develop,¡± Bihotz concluded.

    ¡°The water comes from melting glaciers. It¡¯s pure. So are the algae. I saw small insects, too,¡± Senga added. ¡°There¡¯s a whole ecosystem compatible with our biology. The xeno-biologists who surveyed this planet did a terrible job.¡±

    ¡°Then,¡± said Salute¡¯s daughter, ¡°we can farm here. No need to import soil. Just seeds. Replant. Irrigate.¡±

    ¡°This is far more than that, my friends,¡± Senga said. ¡°This is a habitable planet. We can bring tourists here. The SH will calculate new, shorter routes. You¡¯ve always dreamed of building your church in the After. That became impossible. But now, you can build your church here.¡±

    ¡°Saint Mary of Providence,¡± Bihotz said, bursting into laughter.

    ¡°Saint Ada, rather,¡± Senga murmured, glancing at the girl, who was searching the ground. ¡°The patron saint of nuns. She discovered the water and the algae. Remember that. She doesn¡¯t know it yet, but she¡¯s going to receive a substantial reward from the HS for discovering a new, habitable world. Ada!¡±

    Ada stared stubbornly at the ground. Senga approached her as Father Bihotz muttered, ¡°It was right in front of us all along¡­.¡± In the grass lay a perfectly smooth black stone with three sides.

    ¡°The Xeno house was here, Uncle,¡± Ada said. ¡°But now only this stone remains.¡±

    Senga parted the grass to reveal the stone. It was undoubtedly unnatural.

    ¡°Xeno presence, without a doubt. That xeno-biologist really botched the job.¡±

    ¡°Guardian, there was an entire house! Whole!¡±

    ¡°And the Xenos took it away. It¡¯s strange, Ada, but not the strangest thing Xenos have done. I believe you about the house. They must be shy. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re somewhere. Maybe they¡¯re even watching us right now.¡±

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    ¡°It was a stone house, Uncle. Super heavy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bet we¡¯ll solve the mystery one day.¡±

    When Ada returned, she borrowed an old feather pen and ink from an antique ivory and redwood desk. She picked up a collection of poems titled The Legend of the Ages. Opening to the final poem, she read the words: The multiple being lives within my dark unity, which struck her so deeply that she considered the book special. In the margin beside the line, she began to carefully reproduce, from memory, the constellations of the Stellar Language she had spent hours contemplating.

    As she worked, Ada addressed her LE:

    ¡°LE, I found a Xeno house on Clelia. There were words in the Stellar Language.¡±

    ¡°I believe someone is playing a trick on you, Gorylkin. There is no Xeno civilization on Clelia; this is confirmed by the planet¡¯s exploratory reports. Would you like me to read the xenobiology report to you?¡±

    ¡°No. Another question. What does the symbol of an inverted Tower of Babel mean?¡±

    ¡°There is no known symbol representing an inverted Tower of Babel, Gorylkin. Perhaps you saw it on a flipped slab? Maybe it represents the head of a drill?¡±

    ¡°With a triangle next to it.¡±

    ¡°I cannot assist you, Gorylkin.¡±

    The response was far too curt. Could Sol and her accomplices have censored the EVs this far out? And why censor these specific topics? Ada finished her manual copying and asked one last question:

    ¡°LE, I saw a house disappear. How do you explain that?¡±

    As expected, the LE launched into a lengthy discussion of houses disappearing in various disasters, as well as fictional homes like those from The Wizard of Oz or Baba Yaga. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± thought Ada. ¡°The LE goes on endlessly about meaningless topics and references numerous sources¡ªexcept when it comes to certain precise themes. I¡¯m still being watched. I need to be careful.¡±

    That evening, Senga lounged in the first days of spring in the courtyard, lit by his tracking drone hovering nearby. He was reading The Necessary Otherness, a philosophical treatise written by a philosopher in a rudimentary After about human-Xeno relations, back when what would become the HS first encountered an extraterrestrial civilization. The mysterious millionaire who had built this villa had acquired a paper edition, which must have cost a fortune. Ada joined him and sat across from him.

    ¡°I have a question, Uncle. About the Tower of Babel. In the Xeno house, I saw an inverted Tower of Babel. What does that mean?¡±

    Senga closed his book and placed it on the table. He looked at Ada with soft, thoughtful eyes.

    ¡°Ada, your curiosity... your intelligence... honors humanity on this planet. Of course, Xenos might have any number of interpretations regarding Babel. But let¡¯s stick with humans. In the Bible¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve read it,¡± Ada interrupted impatiently. ¡°The Tower of Babel, people wanted to see God in the heavens, and He separated them by giving them different languages.¡±

    ¡°Then you know it all. An inverted Babel, if we follow that thought, is the opposite: God bringing all creatures together under one language.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s already the case, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, humanity has a single language today, with a few Xeno additions here and there.¡±

    A silence fell, and Senga sensed Ada wasn¡¯t satisfied at all. He sighed and added:

    ¡°Fortunately for you, I have a philosophical mind and enjoy pushing ideas as far as they can go. Let¡¯s consult¡±¡ªhe tapped his paper book on the table¡ª¡°the thinkers and the Kabbalists. There¡¯s another interpretation of Babel. The holy text says that, in the time of Babel, people spoke with one voice. We can conclude they shared the same language, but not only that. Imagine a nation where every human dresses the same, does the same thing, thinks the same thing. Like ants. And like ants or termites, they build this great tower because they have a single idea in their minds. When God separates them, He doesn¡¯t just give them different languages; He teaches them difference. Humans become individuals, each unique, with their own aspirations, desires, and freedom. What seems like a punishment is the gift that allows us to grow as a civilization.¡±

    ¡°So the inverted tower is the return of the ants? We all become the same again?¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, it¡¯s not very desirable, is it? Even though...¡± (Ada was already shouting, ¡°Even though what?¡°) ¡°...the Transients have told us about our future. They say civilizations plunge into the After, the After dematerializes, all Afters from all civilizations unite, and by becoming one, we become Transients.¡±

    Ada murmured the verse from The Legend of the Ages: The multiple being lives within my dark unity. She added:

    ¡°And do the Transients always tell the truth?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s say we¡¯ve never been able to catch them in an error or a lie. They¡¯re very intelligent, Ada, and that¡¯s the problem: if they lie, we¡¯d never know.¡±

    Kutkh climbed down from the balcony and nestled into Ada¡¯s lap for warmth.

    ¡°Uncle. Planetary Guardian. I¡¯m going to tell you something. I don¡¯t like the people of the Human Society. But I like you. And Sky too. And Alpha as well, but he doesn¡¯t count. That¡¯s it.¡±

    Senga considered her for a moment with the eyes of a priest and then with the gaze of a judge. He thought about how Ada would grow, how she would become dangerously intelligent and powerful, and how she might one day lead wars as a tyrant.

    ¡°First,¡± he said after some thought, ¡°be cautious with Sky. He¡¯s practical and, I¡¯d even venture to say, has a good heart. But I know of certain infractions he¡¯s committed¡ªAlpha¡¯s presence here is one of them¡ªand I wouldn¡¯t recommend trusting him unreservedly. Second, Ada, I want you to remember something. You¡¯ll face situations where you¡¯ll have the choice to seek revenge because people like Paul Jespersen or other villains will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life¡ªor to forgive. If you can, and if you care about me, Ada, try to choose forgiveness. I¡¯m not saying this for Paul or the HS, Ada. I¡¯m saying it for you. Because I care about you too.¡±

    She threw herself into his arms to hug him. It was an immense and gentle sensation, one she hadn¡¯t felt since realizing that L¨¦on would always be hers.

    Later that night, as the cool solitude of evening descended, Ada leaned her forehead against the window leading to her balcony. She had never thought of revenge before; it wasn¡¯t a concept in the League¡¯s fiction or the culture of the Shareplace. But she had absorbed the idea through stories like The Crew of Captain Wau. In the container village far away, a small light shone in the window of Paul and Marie¡¯s room. Ada could have silently taken Senga¡¯s MAR, taken the time to aim carefully¡ªperhaps resting it on the balcony rail, right there¡ªand bang. No more Paul Jespersen. Like a hypnotic drug, vengeance promised her the peace she desperately craved. Paradoxically, her protector¡¯s plea for peace had sparked her first clear, structured, and implacable desire for violence.

    QUESTION OF THE DAY WITH INGO IZAN

    ¡°It¡¯s now time for the question of the day, and I¡¯m joined live from Earth by Dian, the director of the UniPsi in Munich. The slightly unusual appearance of our guest¡¯s face isn¡¯t due to makeup or illness¡ªit¡¯s the result of aging. Indeed, Dian is elderly, much older than most citizens of the HS. Today¡¯s question, Dian, is precisely about life expectancy: without the After, how long could an HS citizen expect to live?¡±

    ¡°This is an interesting question because nowadays, people no longer die of old age, except in rare religious communities on Jerimadeth. Scientists estimate that with current genetic protections, a human can expect to live between 120 and 180 years on average, maybe longer if their mental health holds up. However, the main obstacle to aging is the After. After all, why continue living in the SH, with its daily annoyances, when paradise is within reach?

    ¡°When the After became fully developed 450 years ago, the population plummeted drastically¡ªsome people transferred into the After on the very day they reached the age of majority. Today, we¡¯ve regained some balance, and most citizens transfer around the age of 50, when the process is fully funded by the HS. We¡¯ve also gained time by clearly separating the After from the SH, making each world mysterious to the other¡ªand people fear the unknown.

    ¡°However, there¡¯s another limit, known as the ¡®blue limit¡¯¡ªso named because it appears blue in psychic readings. There¡¯s an age, roughly 90 years, where the brain simply has had enough of life. It no longer wishes to survive itself. We believe this is a process inherited from ancient times, ensuring that the oldest wouldn¡¯t cling to life and burden society. In any case, once past the blue limit, we lose the citizen, as they often refuse to upload to the After. For this reason, we have social workers dedicated to monitoring aging populations to preserve them. In the end, even though we can live longer, life expectancy hasn¡¯t significantly evolved since the industrial era.¡±

    ¡°This leaves me with one question, Dian: why aren¡¯t you already in the After?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m one of those who likes to keep all doors open, all possibilities on the table. Sure, you can return from the After, but since it¡¯s rare, and I¡¯ll have plenty of time to enjoy it when the moment comes, I continue my life here.¡±

 Annihilation

    Years passed. Mathematics, prime numbers, and the zeta function became Ada¡¯s horizon of wonder and imagination. Then there was the Bible¡ªa foundation for a community often rife with contradictions. Over time, Ada realized that while staring too long at a word could render it meaningless through satiation, rereading a text repeatedly¡ªwhether about seas parting or philosophers cursed by God¡ªyielded not only additional meanings but, with enough interpretation, perhaps the entirety of human history.

    And then there was the assassination project. Cautiously, and with relative innocence, Ada half-lied to Senga, claiming she intended to become a planetary guardian¡ªa position responsible for administrating a remote colony beyond the Far Gate. Generously, he introduced her to the rights and duties of citizens, the labyrinth of administrative formalities, and, most crucially, the handling of the MAR. The young woman learned to conceal her intentions and emotions, despite her sometimes violent mood swings: if she wanted to kill Paul Jespersen, it was essential that no one suspect her until the last moment.

    Whether under snow or warm sun, they would practice by shooting rocks launched into the lake by drones. While aiming, Ada often thought about what had set her on the path to murder: the Shareplace massacre, no doubt. Thou shalt not kill. And yet, the HS had come. They talked, and they killed.

    By the time Ada turned 17, she still hadn¡¯t acted, as she improved her marksmanship weekly. When her potential was fully realized, she would leave.

    As the days grew longer during the second spring of the year, it happened one late afternoon.

    Ada had noticed the Nomad¡¯s arrival because its Drift synchronization also served as a relay for updating the LEs. The little machines began to hum and heat up, irritating Kukth as they exchanged small data packets about this quiet planet with the vast network of Human Society, while simultaneously downloading updates from a civilization of immense borders.

    Senga, who clearly harbored mistrust for the pilot, nevertheless greeted him warmly and offered a drink from a mysterious cellar beneath the house. Sky toasted to wealth, and Senga to honest work.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful here. But boring, isn¡¯t it? You know, in the Brotherhood, they take people like you. You¡¯d be useful, and you¡¯d live a life of adventure.¡±

    ¡°I just toasted to honest work, my friend. That was a message.¡±

    ¡°Oh, received loud and clear. All I¡¯m saying is, laws change all the time. You do something, and boom¡ªsuddenly it¡¯s illegal, and no one consulted you about it. Thanks, but no thanks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re so close to being the perfect man.¡±

    They embraced amicably, and Sky departed in his ship, its engines roaring, its grappling system smoothly lifting it away. As the small star disappeared into the sky, Ada asked Senga what the Brotherhood was (the LE disappointed her more and more), and he offered her fruit juice¡ªa way to buy time.

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    The familiar roar returned. The Nomad had landed again¡­ Sky, pale as a ghost, returned and asked to speak privately with the planetary guardian. The tone was grim. Ignoring Ada¡¯s remarks, they retreated to the ship.

    Finally, Senga hastily attached an official badge to his uniform, walked to the center of the village with his rifle in hand, and fired into the air to call everyone¡ªfamilies, Ada, and even Alpha. Some lagged behind, and his voice grew sharper. When everyone was gathered, he demanded silence. Seconds fell like massive pillars of stillness, and tension spread like a toxic cloud. Finally, he spoke:

    ¡°What I am about to say is of utmost importance¡ªperhaps the most important thing you will ever hear. I want your full attention. As you can see, I have my MAR in hand. I¡¯m faster than any of you. I know, Ademus Scott, that you have an Automagn at your belt. Maybe you, Nikolas Bihotz, have one too. It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m going to explain a grave situation. If, during or after my explanation, you reach for your weapon, I will consider it an attack and will shoot you without hesitation. Is that clear to everyone? Is that clear to you, Ademus?¡±

    The situation was surreal and incomprehensible. Stunned, the villagers nodded. Trembling, Ademus moved his hand toward his weapon, then stopped.

    ¡°Good. Sky, our relay to the HS, departed a few minutes ago for Ariel. Before activating his Drift, his Grappler scan detected an asteroid about 18 kilometers in diameter heading for Clelia. Through the Drift, we contacted Prospero, and the AIs there confirmed the readings and calculations. The asteroid will cause a catastrophe on this planet in two days. Sky, what are the next Drift windows?¡±

    Sky stepped forward.

    ¡°In 33 minutes and then in a week. With liftoff and grappling, we have 20 minutes, max.¡±

    Senga resumed:

    ¡°If we pack tightly and count the oxygen, bringing extra canisters, there¡¯s space for 9 people in the capsule and 1 co-pilot¡ªso, 10. We are 9 adults, 10 if we count Japhet, 7 children, and one Xeno. I¡¯ll set the example and stay behind. We have 19 minutes to decide who goes and who stays.¡±

    Father Scott immediately drew his sidearm, a metallic contraption wrapping around his hand. The planetary guardian reacted instantly, shooting him in the chest without aiming. A sharp noise, a hole letting light pass through. His wife, Dolly, threw herself on him, sobbing uncontrollably.

    The people were stunned, but they were also believers. There was, in this celestial punishment, a divine message. They talked to themselves and each other. For a Christian, after all, death is not the end.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± said Laurencio Salute. ¡°It¡¯s life. God is with me. Save the children.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay with you, my love,¡± his wife replied.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± said Paul Jespersen. ¡°I don¡¯t consider myself more worthy than Scott to survive.¡±

    Marie Jespersen wept, and Paul asked her to leave. He stepped forward and added:

    ¡°The children go. Seven people. I humbly ask you to save Japhet. He¡¯s an adult, but¡­ well, it¡¯s up to you.¡±

    Helena Bihotz, tall, rigid, with gray braided hair, stepped forward.

    ¡°I look young, but I¡¯m much older than my husband,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m nearly 130 years old, having once extended my life through genetic modifications while living in sin. I¡¯ll stay. Michel, I¡¯d like you to survive. I love you.¡±

    Senga coldly calculated:

    ¡°Seven kids, Japhet Jespersen, Michel Bihotz, Marie Jespersen. That leaves us with Alpha and Benedicte Scott to decide.¡±

    ¡°I curse you!¡± screamed Benedicte. ¡°You¡¯re a monster!¡±

    Sky yelled, ¡°We have 8 minutes left!¡±

    Senga ordered: ¡°Children, run to the Nomad! No goodbyes!¡±

    As they ran, crying, stumbling, sometimes breaking down, Alpha followed Ada.

    And then, it was over. As the Nomad lifted, Senga stood dignified, rifle ready, guarding against any outbursts. But none came. They stared at the ship carrying their children to safety, knowing they would face divine punishment in two days.

 Prospero

    The Nomad completed its solemn journey to Prospero.

    Prospero was not humanity¡¯s first extrasolar discovery, but it had undoubtedly become the new Earth, the true center of human civilization, even if official governments remained headquartered on humanity¡¯s cradle. That cradle, however, was notoriously difficult to access for preservation reasons, particularly for Xenos, so much so that it was commonly referred to as ¡°the Mythical Earth.¡±

    When asked, the average person would tell you that humanity had originated on a distant planet that now resembled a theme park for disconnected elites, only to quickly relocate to the crown jewel of the Big Five.

    Prospero was a planet of life and death, air and land. Orbiting a distant blue sun, which filtered into pure white light through its atmosphere, it was more massive than Earth and boasted days exactly 30 hours long. Prospero¡¯s time had become the universal standard.

    Xenobiologists quickly validated this ancient planet¡ªone without mountains or saltwater¡ªas ideal for colonization. Its fertile soil hosted vegetation of boundless energy. Pluck one fruit, and another would appear in days. Cut down a plant, and shoots would sprout within the hour. A veritable life factory: if you polluted water, indigenous microorganisms would ravenously devour the toxins and purify it.

    Some scholars theorized that this ecosystem was a ¡°Transient artifact,¡± akin to molecular reconfigurators or the impossible starships these superior beings had left scattered like forgotten picnic items before heading to their incomprehensible destinations.

    Regardless of its origins, the planet could sustain an immense population. Early colonies became cities, which grew into sprawling metropolises. Humanity¡¯s furious expansion spewed continental quantities of pollution, only to be absorbed by nature, which thrived on the challenge and demanded more. Cities covered most of Prospero¡¯s singular landmass. Urban layers stacked atop each other¡ªthree, four, five levels high¡ªto cater to elites demanding access to blue skies. Today, Prospero¡¯s official census counted a symbolic 500 billion humans, not including its countless Xenos inhabitants.

    Under its weight, vast sections of Prospero sank into the earth, piercing its thin mantle and plunging pillars deep into molten lava. As if the planet hadn¡¯t given enough, this vertical churn brought precious metals to the surface: iron, platinum, uranium, cobalt, silica, and most notably, ¡°the brass of the world¡¯s heart,¡± or Kentrochalcum¡ªa naturally occurring alloy formed in the planet¡¯s core, as light as it was indestructible.

    The discovery of Kentrochalcum birthed a new branch of physics called Uberkraft, which sought to replicate the alloy¡¯s structure in other metals. Its greatest achievement to date was Hyperchalcum, derived from rhodium, gold, and bismuth, and rumored to form the foundation of the Wau¡¯s legendary armor.

    Even the rivers of lava crisscrossing the surface couldn¡¯t deter Prospero¡¯s flora, which thrived on the immense heat. Like the countless factories and power plants of Prospero¡¯s omnipolis, the vegetation harnessed this energy to flourish in intolerable conditions, reclaiming the planet, layer by layer, as its own.

    It was into the twilight of this singular world that the Nomad made its emergency landing. For a brief moment, Astroport 14 halted its activities to welcome the tiny Raven, carrying refugees on the brink of oxygen depletion. A minor political dignitary (only an hour had passed since the crisis began), flanked by gray-suited advisors, journalists, onlookers, medics, and psi officers, all accompanied by specialized drones, gathered to witness the opening of the capsule and the metallic-scented rush of air.

    Placing a hand on Salute¡¯s daughter¡¯s shoulder, the official solemnly declared that the HS would do everything possible to compensate the victims of this tragedy¡ªpioneers, no less¡ªand ensure they were integrated into a new life under the best conditions. Through some curious distortion of time and space, the crowd was already mourning a tragedy yet to unfold¡ªone that would not be confirmed for another week.

    Ada, who had her fill of refugee care policies, took just enough discreet steps to attract the attention of an official who asked what she was doing there. Then she disappeared into the crowd of onlookers, eventually running far away.

    She vanished.

    Marie Jespersen, Nikolas Bihotz, and the children didn¡¯t mention her disappearance for various reasons: some respected her escape, others didn¡¯t care about her fate, and some even hoped she¡¯d fall into misery¡ªor better yet, into lava.

    A few days passed, washing away this tragedy amid the millions of other events that populated the information networks. Sky, meanwhile, found himself on one of the highest platforms of Astroport 14.

    Behind a gray metal railing, warm winds rose from lava flows two kilometers below, carrying the hum of industries, markets, restaurants, temples, and streets, before fading into the murmurs of ship engines landing and taking off incessantly. These ships ranged from Raven freighters to Ozymandias vessels and older models: sleek Acronycta ships resembling silverfish¡ªsmall courier ships often used as private transports by elites; Adventura vessels, plump with white and gold designs, intended for tourism; and even a colossal Colossus named Esp¨¦rance, an ancient, seven-hundred-meter-long polygonal transport ship, black with grime and so aged it creaked in the wind, sending chills through its passengers.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    It was at this railing that Sky found Ada, her hair blowing in the wind, accompanied by Alpha and Kukth perched on her shoulder. She threw herself into his arms, and he asked:

    ¡°How did Alpha end up here?¡±¡°Well, he told me¡­ okay, it¡¯s weird, but he drew a picture, and I think he hitched a ride on the ship.¡±¡°On the outside?¡± Sky looked at the impassive insect-like creature with admiration. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve heard of Xenos that can survive in space. During a Drift¡­ that¡¯s a first.¡±¡°How did you find me?¡±¡°Well, I was just passing by¡­¡±¡°Prospero is kind of a big planet¡­¡±¡°Alright, fine, I¡¯ll admit it. I was looking for you. A little bribe to the right person who knows how to ask the right questions to the AIs, and they found you.¡±

    He pointed to an old camera on a mast at the corner of the platform. People often wondered if it even worked. Apparently, it did.

    ¡°I was worried about you. What are you going to do now, little League girl? Prospero isn¡¯t full of nice people. Actually, it¡¯s got very few of them.¡±¡°You¡¯re not looking for a co-pilot? I want to visit the planets.¡±¡°I¡¯m onto new career opportunities¡­ and I plan to fly solo.¡±¡°Fine. Alpha and I found a job offer lower down at the astroport. It¡¯ll pay enough thalers to eat.¡±¡°You know, in the HS, you get food and housing for free. Not Alpha, but I heard your friend doesn¡¯t eat much.¡±¡°Yeah, but they¡¯d ask for my ID. I don¡¯t want to be found. And I don¡¯t want to be sent back to the Jespersens.¡±¡°What kind of job is it?¡±¡°There¡¯s an Endymion in dry dock. We just have to clean the hull and reactors, remove any protrusions, and mark spots where people will do the big repairs later.¡±¡°Don¡¯t they have drones for that?¡±¡°The recruiter said accidents happen sometimes, and a Xeno breaks less easily than a drone¡ªand is cheaper to repair.¡±

    Sky leaned on the railing beside her. From there, the city stretched to the horizon, its towers of inhabited light piercing the sky, towering over smaller buildings that, though dwarfed, still enjoyed the rare privilege of being¡ªtemporarily¡ªon the uppermost level.

    ¡°I¡¯d love to see the sector prefect¡¯s face if Ada, the ward of the nation, the refugee from Clelia, has a fatal accident because the Stellar Fleet wanted to save money on a drone. You know, you¡¯re rich, Ada. First, there¡¯s the adoption stipend. Then, there¡¯s your discovery of a habitable zone on Clelia¡ªI heard Senga submitted the paperwork. The damn planet¡¯s going to be destroyed, but the law¡¯s the law. And finally, there¡¯s compensation from Prospero for failing to account for the asteroid that hit Clelia. That¡¯s a lot of money.¡±¡°Enough for a Raven?¡±¡°I¡¯d say even an Ozymandias.¡±¡°Yeah, but if I go claim it, they¡¯ll give it to an adoptive family, right?¡±¡°Yep. But that could be me. I adopt you, get the money, then give it all back to you. Well, I¡¯d keep 10% because I¡¯m your buddy, right?¡±¡°Yeah, even 20%!¡±¡°Haha! What a negotiator! But I don¡¯t want to be your father. We¡¯ll split the money and go our separate ways.¡±¡°Well, that¡¯s AWESOME!¡± Ada exclaimed, throwing her arms up.¡°Alright, I¡¯ll figure out how to make it happen. I¡¯ll find a lawyer to handle the paperwork. In the meantime, do me a favor: stay somewhere safe and be careful on your stupid job site. I need you alive for a few more days.¡±

    They shook hands like business partners.

    Ada slept in the dusty, abandoned, and above all thunderous infrastructures of the astroports. She scraped together her daily meals by begging outside restaurants, avoiding overly generous people who, touched by the evident intelligence that shone through her shabby appearance, sought to offer her a home.

    A few days later, Sky showed up at Ada¡¯s luxurious domain beneath the launch platforms¡ªa cramped spot furnished with a makeshift mattress of bubble wrap stolen from a Raven¡¯s cargo pod, some leftover treats, and her cherished paper copy of The Legend of the Ages brought from Clelia. He arrived with ¡°the lawyer,¡± who looked every bit the part of a starving vagabond with bloodshot eyes. However, he seemed well-versed in legal jargon, and Ada said ¡°yes¡± and then ¡°yes¡± again to all the documents he presented on his LE terminal.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a few days with your money,¡± Sky said with a wink before vanishing behind the steel pillars.

    But Sky kept the money and never came back.

    <hr>

    THE QUESTION OF THE DAY WITH INGO IZAN

    - Today¡¯s question is about the After. I¡¯m joined by Salvador, a Game Designer, live from the control center for the After servers under the Moho mantle of the Mythical Earth. Salvador, can you hear me?

    - Loud and clear. Even though we¡¯re under the Earth¡¯s mantle, maintaining a solid connection for data transfers is critical for our work.

    - Today¡¯s question is: The After is forever. And¡­ that¡¯s a heck of a long time, isn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t people get bored eventually?

    - Well, that¡¯s at the heart of my job. As a Game Designer, my responsibility is to ensure that the After meets the expectations of its users. The paradox is that I sometimes have to design scenarios where people get bored¡­ because being bored is part of life, too.

    - So, is the After basically a giant video game?

    - No, but there are rules there, just like in reality. After all, what is a law if not a ¡°rule¡± for society? That said, there are plenty of video games in the After, but since everyone¡¯s already virtualized, the games are entirely immersive, and people sometimes play them for decades without stopping.

    - Can you tell us about a popular game in the After?

    - It¡¯s not the most popular, but there¡¯s Trust, which was designed by Julia Prahi. You might not know Julia, but she¡¯s a demigod to us. She created Modern Diplomacies, which you might have heard of.

    - MD? Really? I¡¯m a huge fan of that game! But isn¡¯t it centuries old?

    - It is. Julia has been in the After for ages, but that hasn¡¯t stopped her from continuing to create. She designed Trust. And no, I can¡¯t tell you what it¡¯s about¡ªit¡¯s reserved for After members. But I can¡¯t wait to get my hands on it someday.

    - What do the oldest people in the After do? They¡¯ve been there for so long¡­ haven¡¯t they exhausted all the possibilities?

    - Generally, they go to Pax. And now you¡¯re going to ask me, ¡°What¡¯s Pax?¡± My answer is that it¡¯s a big secret of the After, and the LEsphere seems to understand it shouldn¡¯t talk about it much. But like everything else about the After, don¡¯t worry: you¡¯ll find out sooner or later.¡±

 PART 2: THE WAU - Dog and Gun

    Let¡¯s imagine you wanted to assassinate someone.

    The Wau stood tall, a towering figure clad in a panther-like black armor, gazing through the massive bay window atop one of Prospero¡¯s spires¡ªthe prefecture of Sector 14, a remarkably low number for a planet that counted six thousand such districts. His mask, featureless and golden, was forged from hyperchalcum. His silence, his stillness, his sheer presence.

    The Wau wasn¡¯t looking at the restless city below. As always, he was turned inward. He could process an immense amount of information per second, even without the aid of his dark unit, a dedicated analytical exosuit that remained in his fortress.

    Yet sometimes, he deliberately narrowed his field of perception, returning to the comforting scale of a standard human mind¡ªnot just to feel like himself, but because sometimes, simply looking at something with the most reduced scope possible allowed for a fresh perspective.

    The Wau was waiting for the prefect and his entourage of advisors. His AIs had already locked onto the group a few meters from the door via security cameras. One to two seconds for them, an eternity for his processing speed.

    So, let¡¯s imagine, he thought, that you wanted to assassinate someone.

    Your target is an important figure. And they know they could be the target of an assassination. Take, for instance, the President of the HS Council, residing in the Tower of Origin on the Mythical Earth¡ªthe supreme ruler of the HS in a way. Naturally, she has an exceptional security detail. She likely carries some Transient artifact, is surrounded by elite bodyguards, and is protected by members of the Psi corps.

    The Psi pose a problem: when you approach the Council Tower, they read your thoughts, detect your assassination intent, tip off the snipers, and you¡¯re shot on sight.

    There is, however, a way to bypass Psi defenses¡ªa technique reserved for the Void Eyes, the most powerful Psis trained at UniPsi on Mythical Earth, in Munich.

    This technique is called the mental box. You trap the thought ¡°I must assassinate the President¡± inside an imaginary box in your mind. This thought vanishes from your conscious awareness. On the box, you place a label: ¡°To be opened when in the presence of the President.¡± No one can see a mental box except the one who created it.

    In practice, such an operation would be more complex: you would create mental boxes within mental boxes. The first label might read: ¡°Travel to Mythical Earth, then open the next box.¡± That box would read: ¡°Get close to the Council Tower,¡± and so on¡ªplacing the murder weapon in separate pieces across various locations, methodically progressing step by step. Additionally, your assassin would need to be a member of the Void Eyes, a corps renowned for its unwavering loyalty.

    Upon entering UniPsi on Mythical Earth, candidates are assigned a Greek letter ranking. Alphas are stronger than Betas, who are stronger than Gammas, and so forth. Alphas rise to the highest administrative positions, often working on Earth, Prospero, or on major stellar cruisers. Lower ranks engage in research, high-level private negotiations, and so on.

    And then there is the Omega rank¡ªthe last letter of the alphabet.

    Legend has it that Omegas are expelled from the Academy upon failing the test and relegated to lesser universities.

    This is incorrect: the rare Omegas¡ªan event occurring once per century¡ªare recruited into the Wau Order. They are rare cases of psychic resonance, exponentially more powerful than Alphas and capable not only of harnessing immense mental force through transhuman modifications but also of withstanding the cognitive load of the AIs integrated into the Armor.

    Thus, as a Void Eye, the Wau is fully capable of assassinating anyone. And let¡¯s be clear: no human force, no matter its size, could physically stop a Wau. Using mental boxes for such an assault is entirely unnecessary.

    <hr>

    Now, let¡¯s imagine you wanted to assassinate a Transient.

    To put it simply, Transients are gods. That leaves two possibilities:

    First scenario: They are truly gods¡ªomnipotent, capable of bending the universe to their will, making two plus two equal five if they so desire. In that case, there¡¯s nothing to be done. They can achieve the impossible, such as seeing through mental boxes, reversing time, or even resurrecting themselves once annihilated. The problem is unsolvable. Case closed.

    Second scenario: Their power is, in some way, limited. They cannot alter reality at will. There might be a way to kill one. But caution is necessary.

    In fact, when they mention the Blind Gods, have the Transients not implicitly admitted that there exist beings even more powerful than themselves?

    <hr>

    The Wau¡¯s mission is to protect humanity.

    And the question of the Transients¡¯ existence directly impacts humanity¡¯s fate.

    In many respects, their influence is positive: they bestow gifts, knowledge, and technologies that enrich human society.

    But under what circumstances could their influence turn negative¡ªaside from the philosophical concerns of dependency on external entities?

    There are no documented cases, but there are suspicions of misconduct. Information that disappears. Catastrophes that should have been predicted. In a word, mysteries.

    As part of these mysteries, the Wau have developed a fable known as the Dog and the Gun.

    In this story, the Transient is a kind of woodsman living in a cabin with his dogs¡ªwho are humans. Hanging above his fireplace, the woodsman keeps a gun.

    Sometimes, the dogs bare their teeth. Sometimes, they even want to kill the Transients¡ªjust for curiosity, for justice, for freedom. To test the limits. Every day, billions of humans and Xenos ask themselves: ¡°Can we kill a Transient?¡± And nothing happens.

    Nothing ever happens because the Transient is immensely stronger than all sentient civilizations combined. He has a gun. The gun will kill any dog, no matter how sharp its teeth.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Now, imagine that one day, the gun¡ªpoorly secured¡ªfalls to the ground. A dog picks it up¡ªout of curiosity, to be helpful, or maybe even to use it, because it has seen its master do so before.

    At that moment, the dog becomes dangerous.

    The master must tear the gun away from it¡ªand kill the dog.

    And then, the strangeness of the universe arrives.

    And then, the strangeness of the universe arrives¡­

    <hr>

    If we are in the second scenario¡ªthe one where the Transients are gods with immense but limited power¡ªthen somewhere, there is a gun. But we are like dogs: we do not understand what it is, and by the time we get close to it, the Transient eliminates us.

    The Wau does not want to kill the Transients. But he also does not want humans to be killed by the Transients. The balance of power must be evened out.

    In this quest, caution is required: the Transients can read minds, at least on a solar system-wide scale, and across an unlimited number of humans.

    At this very moment, a Transient is reading his thoughts.

    It doesn¡¯t matter. He hasn¡¯t found the gun yet.

    Maybe the Transient is even amused by his little dog¡¯s acrobatics.

    <hr>

    And then, the strangeness of the universe arrives.

    A few hours ago, within his Dark Unit, the Wau was processing countless requests from across human society.

    Among these requests¡ªhandled at an average rate of one million per second¡ªthere were five types of problems:

    <hr>

    First, the ¡°child¡¯s wishes¡±¡ªrequests so simple and na?ve they might as well have come from children.For example:¡°I want to be a spaceship pilot.¡±¡°I want to become a Wau.¡±¡°I want my mother to stop using drugs.¡±

    The Wau delegated these to the standard LE of the HS, fully capable of answering them.

    <hr>

    Next came legitimate requests requiring a simple response unavailable in the LEsphere.Often, these were dilemmas requiring wisdom.

    For instance, a rural court on the orbital station Francisco, born from the smoldering ruins of yet another revolution, consistently sought the Wau¡¯s rulings.

    An embarrassing responsibility for someone who wished to remain a neutral guardian of humanity¡ªbut the Wau¡¯s plan was simple:

    For months, he would apply classic jurisprudence to demonstrate that the justice system they distrusted¡ªwhen rigorously followed¡ªactually worked.

    <hr>

    Then came the impossible requests.¡°Wau, make me the President of the HS Council.¡±

    The Wau Order had no duty to fulfill selfish fantasies¡ªoften written in a state of drunkenness or intellectual indignity.

    <hr>

    Then came mass problem-solving, inspired by the Transient methodology, which the Wau had refined over time.He had named it Scalar Equilibrium (ES).

    The principle was simple:

    Jake, on Earth, loves Lola, who lives on Prospero and is caring for her aging mother, who is nearing the After. Jake writes to the Wau, asking how he can secure a promotion in administration to get transferred to Prospero.

    Flora, a pilot of an Ozymandias, has just been scammed by a certain Sky, leaving her deeply in debt. She has calculated that she must work her entire life to repay it or abandon her ship. She writes to the Wau in distress.

    Nolca, a farmer on Cade¡ªa barely populated planet beyond Ariel¡¯s Gate¡ªlaments that no one wants to buy his carrots, even though they are delicious.

    Libin, an idle 18-year-old rich youth from Earth, wants to start a meaningful business.

    <hr>

    At first glance, these problems seem unrelated.

    But in reality, these five individuals could solve each other¡¯s problems¡ªif only they knew each other.

    The only obstacle?

    They don¡¯t know each other¡­ yet.

    Thus, by practicing Scalar Equilibrium, the Wau made the world a better place¡ªor at least, more hopeful and more active.

    However, the Wau did not solve problems in groups of five.

    He started with a massive batch of 10 million requests, linking them through interconnection, then trimmed them down into smaller groups¡ªfinally resolving the millions of ¡°duels¡±, where two people could help each other directly.

    In his free time, the Wau had asked the private LE of the Wau Order to find a mathematical method to model the Scalar Equilibrium he applied intuitively¡ªbut so far, without results. Perhaps something deeper than neural networks and modern mathematics was required.

    Perhaps he should ask a Transient¡­

    <hr>

    To return to the types of requests the Wau received, there were also the ¡°riddles.¡±

    Innocent questions behind which lurked the strangeness of the universe¡ªthe invisible hand of the Transients.

    One such message had arrived recently:

    <hr>

    From: GorylkinTo: Wau OrderMessage:

    THE WAU! YOU¡¯RE USELESS!

    First, they killed all my friends at Shareplace. Then they locked me up on Calchas. Then they dumped me on Clelia. And a huge asteroid came out of nowhere and blew up the planet, and we couldn¡¯t save everyone.

    A HUGE ASTEROID, WAU!

    Don¡¯t you guys have a powerful telescope or something? The truth is, you¡¯re not so powerful after all. The Crew of Captain Wau? It¡¯s a joke.

    <hr>

    The AIs had been unusually cryptic about this Gorylkin¡ªas if they had no record of them in the HS databases, nor any mention of their detention or exile.

    A child, clearly. One who dreamed of adventure and had absorbed the fictions of the League.

    For now, the mystery was set aside.

    Because before responding, the Wau had naturally conducted a verification of Clelia¡¯s known asteroid trajectories. The records were well-documented.

    And yet¡ªunless the databases had been undetectably corrupted¡ªthe asteroid was an anomaly worth investigating.

    An official inquiry was underway on Prospero, but a quick dive into the authorities¡¯ communications revealed that their top priority was protecting the political leadership from blame.

    <hr>

    After querying the Wau AI with intense calculations, the Wau dispatched an Exocet¡ªa slim, silver probe equipped with an AI and a Derive Drive¡ªto Clelia.

    It launched from the depths of Francisco, a fractured planet, like a bolt of lightning, before vanishing into the void.

    The probe completed its Derive in the Oort Cloud of the system, a few light-days away from Clelia.

    From its vantage point, Clelia still appeared perfectly intact through the telescope of the Exocet¡ªbecause the light carrying the information of its destruction had not yet reached this location.

    The Exocet searched for the asteroid.

    No trace.

    And then¡ªafter a few minutes¡ªas if pulled from an invisible current, shimmering in the light of the distant sun,

    the asteroid appeared in space.

    And it raced toward the planet.

    <hr>

    It had appeared from nowhere.

    <hr>

    That was why no one had been able to predict its arrival.

    Reading the Exocet¡¯s report, the Wau¡¯s heart froze.

    Could matter emerge from pure void?

    The answer was yes¡ªquantum fluctuations of the vacuum occasionally generate tiny, unstable particles that quickly annihilate back into nothingness.

    The probability of producing¡­ say, two such particles? Infinitesimally small.

    The probability of producing enough particles to create a planet-killing asteroid?

    Impossible.

    A Transient had manipulated the vacuum fluctuations.

    <hr>

    The Wau had long suspected they were capable of such miracles.

    Now, he had proof.

    But his heart had frozen for another reason.

    Because he was staring directly at the work of the Transients.

    Had he just laid eyes upon the Master¡¯s Gun?

    Or had the Gun already fallen to Clelia?

    Sitting in his Dark Unit, turning these thoughts over in his mind¡­ had he just placed his life in danger?

    <hr>

    Reduce mental activity on this subject.

    Let them underestimate us.

    After all, sooner or later, there would have been an investigation anyway.

    <hr>

    Yet, something about Clelia was deeply intriguing.

    If the eye of the Transients had turned toward it,

    if their destructive hand had fallen on an insignificant rock populated by a handful of humans,

    then Clelia must have had a secret.

    It was only logical that he should continue his investigation¡ªif only to interrogate the survivors.

    The Wau thought to himself:

    ¡°If I am still alive¡­ then I have the divine right to act logically.¡±

    ¡°Because if my logical actions were meant to lead me to the Gun, then I would already be dead.¡±

    Advance.

    <hr>

    And these were, in essence, the thoughts that occupied the Wau¡¯s mind for one or two seconds¡ª

    as behind him, a door opened.

 Three Encounters

    The administrative body took their seats in the room, accompanied by an almost animal-like rustling of files, dressed in austere attire and bearing dignified expressions. Around a reinforced glass table in the shape of a ring, a chair was designated for the Wau¡ªa somewhat ridiculous gesture, given that its Armor, though making it appear as a sleek giant, was hardly proportionate to the furniture. Its AI assessed that the chair could withstand its 800-kilogram weight, and so it complied, having to recline slightly to sit at the table.

    A woman with short hair spoke first:

    ¡°The Wau Order has sent us a distinguished ambassador without warning. Let us stick to the delicate agenda at hand and not waste time.¡±

    The agenda made no sense, the Wau analyzed. The issue at hand was whether Prefecture 14 should relinquish an energy production facility to Prefecture 17. Clearly, this was of paramount importance to the twenty or so people present. The Wau¡¯s research AIs unfurled in all directions and concluded that this maneuver was nothing more than a whimsical idea, born from an irrational fit of paranoia and a thirst for control, followed by the inevitable trickle-down of power plays approving or contesting the decision.

    The Wau delved into the psyche and digital records of each individual in the room. Every single one of them proved to be systematically corrupt, astonishingly incompetent, often vile, perpetually both victim and executioner, adept in the silent violence of the powerful¡¯s alcoves¡­ and sometimes, they even appeared clinically insane. They debated while keeping a wary eye on the Wau. And what if, they feared, it opposed the transfer of the energy production facility? If only they knew how little it mattered to it¡­

    The Wau considered compiling a dossier on each of them and sending it to the media. It would surely mean the end of their careers, but would it improve the situation here? Were they the product of a flawed system, or were they actively shaping it? If released into the world without political power to wield, would they¡ªburdened with their inherent psychopathy¡ªnot become violent predators upon ordinary citizens?

    The Wau Order remained enigmatically silent regarding directives.

    ¡°What will my mission be?¡± had been the Wau¡¯s first question upon its induction into the Council.

    ¡°Do what you deem right. That is the only mission we will give you,¡± the disembodied voice had responded in the Order¡¯s Sanctum.

    Since then, it had developed its own methods, guided by its sense of ethics. It wanted to resist the temptation of becoming a vigilante. It wanted to let things unfold and only intervene when necessary. It wanted to observe humanity rather than individuals.

    And yet¡­

    Well, it compiled the data, solidified the dossiers with evidence, and transmitted them via its AI to the media authorities. The Wau figured it would be good for the SH to understand that when it passed through, the truth surfaced. A deterrent power¡ªone that exerted influence even in its absence.

    With this done, it calmly raised a hand.

    ¡°Yes, Wau. We await your counsel,¡± said the Prefect, her voice hesitant enough that she despised herself for it.

    ¡°I have no desire to interfere in this debate, which is your own¡­¡±

    The Wau sensed a psychic wave of relief wash over his interlocutors. Let them enjoy it¡ªit would not last. Then it continued:

    ¡°As announced, I have come to speak with the survivors of the Clelia disaster.¡±

    The administrative body rose and led the Wau down a vast corridor toward a waiting room, where the survivors in question were immediately summoned and escorted by a security force that bore the air of a private army.

    ¡°We are in the process of identifying those responsible for Clelia¡¯s stellar cartography,¡± the Prefect announced, her body and voice taut.

    ¡°That will not be necessary,¡± the Wau replied in its steady, yet slightly terrifying voice. ¡°No human error was committed.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ then may I ask why the Order wishes to speak with the survivors of this tragedy?¡±

    ¡°I will offer them a word of comfort.¡±

    Through its Psi abilities, the Wau distinctly perceived the thought forming in the Prefect¡¯s mind: These Wau are just armored fools.

    A double door was opened by a soldier armed with a thermal assault rifle, who stared at the Wau in stunned silence. His mind was empty, screaming like a morning bird with confused thoughts of fear and admiration.

    Another administrative room, with a ring-shaped table, a glass bay window overlooking the metal rooftops of Prospero. Surrounding it, a few bewildered adults, and children who gazed wide-eyed at the towering giant. The Wau declared that it wished to speak with them.

    The administrative body had already fled in a barely concealed panic¡ªtheir terminals had summoned each of them into an emergency crisis cell following the release of the dossiers to the press.

    The door naturally closed. The Wau remained silent. A statue, its gaze shifting from one individual to another.

    Psyche scan. A mix of fear, rejection, and wonder. Facial recognition. File cross-referencing. Was Gorylkin among them? None of them had any history with the League of Antioch, nor seemed open-minded enough to be passionate about a foreign serial drama.

    ¡°I am looking for someone who was on Clelia, who survived your tragedy, and who came from the League of Antioch,¡± the Wau declared.

    Aggressive and nostalgic thoughts surged:

    Ada, the Antiochian¡­Poor little thing¡­That bitch who took my mother¡¯s place on the ship¡­I¡¯m sure it was her fault¡­The adopted one¡­We mustn¡¯t say anything¡ªhe might find her and kill her¡­We haven¡¯t seen her since landing¡­

    Instantly, the Wau¡¯s AI cross-referenced various data streams and found Ada. It traced her life through the available databases.

    A Girl from the Shareplace Massacre on Caliban.

    The Wau knew something about it¡ªafter all, it had to stop two more senseless SH attacks against innocents afterward. Detained on Calchas¡ªyes, that fit. Precocious, intelligent, a little immature. Curious. Supervised by a Psi torturer from the HS. The Wau hacked into Calchas¡¯ surveillance recordings to construct a physical and behavioral profile of Ada and Sol. Out of curiosity, it also hacked the cameras aboard Endymion Hades, where, having been promoted to second officer, Sol was using every means at her disposal to manipulate a dim-witted captain.

    Sector 14, across its seven layers of Omnipole, had six million cameras. In a single second, the Wau located Ada¡ªaccompanied by two Xenos, polishing the interior of a reactor aboard an ancient Endymion called Styx, currently in dry dock at the highest level of the shipyard. A job meant for drones, instead assigned to Xenos and humans, most often those stripped of citizenship, whose deaths would be less costly than repairing service drones.

    This simple fact surprised the Wau, accustomed to operations on warfronts. So, the HS had major structural and ethical problems that no Armored warrior had yet decided to address. It focused on the complete reconstruction of the two Xenos accompanying Ada, compiling all available camera angles: they were unknown in its databases. How was that possible?

    Gorylkin, you truly live surrounded by mysteries.

    The Wau inclined its head slightly and simply said, ¡°Thank you for your help.¡± Which was all the stranger since no one had said anything.

    And then it stepped through the door, crossing an administrative building seething with silence and furious shouts. It passed an open office, where the soon-to-be former Prefect was screaming at subordinates haunted in their psyche by a savage, vengeful joy. In the corridor, another official fixed it with hostile eyes, his mind screaming that he had done nothing wrong and resenting the Wau for its lies¡ªhumans were endlessly fascinating in their ability to construct imaginary worlds where they were always the hero of the story.

    The Wau passed by them without a glance, without a word, like an implacable machine, and found itself outside the building, in the bustling streets of Prospero¡¯s intense human life¡ªrolling and flying vehicles, beggars and traffickers, vendors and charity workers, children and the elderly, humans and Xenos, all determined to make today better than yesterday, yet resigned in their quiet, disenchanted rejection of any personal hope for a glorious future where they might break free from invisible castes¡ªa reality society denied even as it suffered under their weight daily.

    Driven by a brief desire to reconnect with a past life, the Wau descended to the lower level of the Omnipole via a secured platform, where its mere presence was so imposing that no one dared to ride with it.

    The lower level was already much more cramped and working-class, which spoke volumes about the hardships of life in the five sublayer cities. The metal sky loomed a hundred meters above, allowing glimpses of the real sky only through occasional leaks, but everything was illuminated by bioluminescent indigenous plants, glowing yellow and blue. Streets no wider than three meters at their broadest opened onto small shops; a Xeno resembling a giant wasp standing on its hind legs sold on-demand software, each piece unique, while other plant-like creatures with faint telepathic abilities used their weak mental influence to beckon passersby into a bar pulsing with folk music from the 2300s.

    The Wau did not go unnoticed. Street artisans, security personnel, passersby, and hawkers all stared at the towering figure¡ªthis giant from PanHS fiction, as if struggling to believe it was real. A bolder woman even reached out and brushed her fingers over its hyperchalc chest.

    For a moment, the Wau¡¯s ear caught a synthetic melody from the late 2700s. It wanted to turn its head, but its slow, steady, robotic stride, its unwavering gaze fixed straight ahead¡ªmotionless except for its measured pace¡ªwas a crucial part of its ongoing display of power. It was human, but it was also more than that. And it had to show it.

    Because as long as the Wau Order exists, people can still hope their misfortunes will end like in the serial dramas.

    It did not turn its head but hacked into a nearby camera to find the source of the music: a club bathed in violet and red hues, where the lighting was set to make all the dancers appear as pure black silhouettes, like shadows.

    Once, before the Wau was Wau, before it had even become an Empty Eye, it had lived as a human. It had been passionate about piano, philosophy, geometry, and poetry. It had stroked a black cat from Titus and read adventure novels. It had seduced and loved, had been loved in return, and it had danced.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Emotions still existed within it, like tiny flames¡ªlike the unforgettable memories of a childhood journey to a country that no longer existed.

    Over time, the Wau Council had once told it, with a kind of melancholy, because of what the Armor gives us and what it takes away, no emotions remain in us¡ªexcept the regret of having none. Do not chase these emotions away. Do not devote yourself entirely to your function. It is important that you remain human, that you maintain your connection to humanity. The day you believe you are no longer human, then it will be time to return the Armor.

    That was also why the Wau had taken this path on foot, though it could have covered the kilometer to its target in a single bound. To simply immerse itself in human society. To never forget where it came from, what it was protecting.

    Its emotions had faded. It suspected this was less due to the Armor and more to the relentless injustice and violence that defined the human world. What is not injustice and violence is fiction, it sometimes thought.

    But in the ever-receding distance of its emotions¡ªlike a rainbow¡ªit had also noticed something: one could act in the name of justice, truth, preservation, and forgiveness through altruism and love.

    What do our actions become when love and altruism are gone? What do our actions become when we are truly cynical? And yet, even when driven by the purest logic devoid of love and altruism, our actions still lean toward justice, truth, preservation, and forgiveness.

    Because love, though a blunt instrument, is also the most durable one¡ªthe best investment a society can make if it wishes to progress.

    Thus, the Wau did not view the fading of its capacity to love with too much concern.

    Shouts, and the crowd that follows him in adoration parts.

    Standing before him is a man with a red mane¡ªand, more importantly, a large makeshift welding torch in his hand. A crude contraption: a tungsten rod powered by a sturdy battery strapped to his back. Heated to white-hot intensity, it now emits a plasma beam so fierce that he shields his face with a metal mask. Three meters away, a luminous plant shrivels into ash¡ªyet, with the biotope¡¯s relentless vitality, it sprouts anew from its own remains.

    The man begins a rambling tirade about a galactic conspiracy against humanity, where Wau, the government, the bourgeois elites, Jews, celebrities¡ªall play a role. Delving into his psyche, the Wau confirms the sincerity of his words.

    Three armed officers advance cautiously behind the assailant, only to be immediately driven back by the heat. The Wau raises a calm hand, signaling that it has the situation under control.

    The attacker swings his weapon with force¡ªthe plasma leaves no mark on the armor. The metal giant grasps the bar, still glowing at 3,500 degrees, and bends it in half, snapping the internal mechanism. Even as the wrecked torch remains in his grip, the assailant draws a blade¡ªlikely honed to a nanometric edge¡ªbut once again, it merely glides off the armor.

    The Wau continues on its way without further comment, except to say, ¡°Prospero authorities, there is no need to arrest this man. He who raises a hand against a Wau should not be punished.¡±

    This encounter, however¡ªnot so unusual. Many have tried to ¡°take down a Wau, just to see¡±. It sets the giant into contemplation.

    Indeed, if a madman were to discover a way to breach a Wau¡¯s armor, would that not be a good thing? Science would advance, and the Wau could develop a superior suit in their fight against the yoke of those who seek to control them. (It does not consciously think of the word Transient, but it might as well.)

    So, it wonders, if an ordinary human were to find a Gun¡ªas in the fable The Dog and the Gun¡ªone capable of threatening a Wau, he would, in fact, be doing it a favor.

    Now¡­ why should the Transients think any differently? Should they not want to be overthrown, to be pushed to their limits?

    That is worth considering.

    The Wau finally reaches a platform leading up to the shipyards. It could simply gather momentum and leap 120 meters to the upper level¡ªbut it refuses to leave an imprint in the ground that might be turned into a shrine.

    The platform¡¯s ceiling is low, so it crouches down and settles onto the floor.

    A woman, her skin tinged nearly blue, holds a young child with the same pale complexion and cobalt-veined skin. Both seem exhausted. Nothing serious, its analysis AI informs it. They consume local flowers to save their thalers. She had her citizenship revoked for violent conduct two years ago.

    A man, reeking, clad in what was once a red technician¡¯s suit, coughs and spits darkly onto the platform floor.

    ¡°Got a few thalers for me?¡± he asks, eyes wild, extending a hand.

    His grime-blackened hand bears an interface port for the LE network terminal. The Wau touches it and transfers 1,000 thalers from its near-limitless reserve.

    Its AI runs a full scan. This technician¡ªsomeone who pretends to go to work but lost his job ten years ago¡ªlives in self-destruction, neglecting himself entirely. It detects three forms of cancer and metabolic poisoning. With access to his daily route, it schedules a charity service visit tonight to the empty crate he calls home, along with a precise message from the Wau Order.

    It embeds within his mind a sealed thought: I deserve to live.

    A mental box, to be opened when he is healed.

    It then examines the young mother¡¯s citizenship suspension. A bar fight with her ex-boyfriend, then with the authorities, then even with the judge¡ªwho, despite being a telepath capable of grasping the full context, had delivered a particularly harsh sentence.

    In the HS, a mother should not lose her citizenship if her child is under five. But she had concealed the boy¡¯s existence, fearing¡ªwithout reason¡ªthat he would be taken from her.

    The Wau transfers 1,000 thalers to a young, passionate lawyer, along with a full copy of the case file, so she can work to overturn the ruling.

    Finally, it gently touches the child¡¯s forehead. His thoughts are nothing but wonder¡ªwonder at the wind, the colors, the movement.

    Deep in his mind, the Wau places a single thought: Be happy. Always.

    And it knows that he will be.

    ¡°Hands off!¡± the mother snaps, pulling her son close.

    ¡°Hey, mister, how much did you just give me?¡± asks the ex-technician.

    The Wau does not answer.

    Do not focus on the individual, but on humanity. Instead of handing out a thousand thalers here and there, one must address the root¡ªeradicate misery and isolation, the injustice of a judge¡¯s wounded pride, the failure of welfare oversight.

    Next time. Soon.

    In five seconds, the platform reaches its destination. The Wau rises and steps off at the same measured pace, moving on to explore the shipyards.

    The shipyards fall under the control of the Stellar Fleet. In principle, anyone purchasing a vessel must sign an agreement stipulating that, in times of necessity¡ªsuch as a conflict against a powerful Xeno¡ªtheir ship can be requisitioned for military use.

    In practice, however, every single large-scale war humanity has ever waged, without exception, has been against itself.

    Xenos rarely possess such sophisticated, electronics-laden habitats. When they travel within a hollowed-out asteroid, or in a living house fused to some strange space-dwelling creature¡ªthat, to them, is the height of luxury.

    The Styx is the centerpiece of Sector 14¡¯s shipyard¡ªan ancient Endymion, the second ever built after the Invictus models were abandoned.

    Endymions are massive, square-based tube-shaped ships. Tubes¡ªnothing more, nothing less. Six kilometers long, one kilometer wide, one high. Three to six thousand crew members aboard. In theory, a ship like this could be operated by AI, but it was designed to require no fewer than five hundred officers working in tandem. This number was a deliberate military countermeasure¡ªif an enemy power or a mutinous faction wanted to seize control of an Endymion, they would need at least five hundred conspirators, reducing the risk to near zero.

    Why a tube? A naive observer might wonder. The tube shape proved incredibly practical. During maneuvers, it could accommodate hundreds of Ozymandias fighters and thousands of Raven drones. When empty, it could polarize the sparse matter of space to eject and propel itself forward at minimal energy cost, adjusting its orbit with ease. When rapid resource collection was needed, it could swallow hundreds of thousands of tons of asteroids, drift, and then deposit them near an extraction site¡ªor onto a military target.

    An Endymion is typically polished steel, gleaming¡ªthough some, like the Phrike, designed to terrify its targets, were painted with giant skulls or monstrous, fanged maws. The Styx, however, looked as though it had passed through the underworld itself, black as coal. Its restoration had been assigned to drones, Xenos, and a handful of unfortunate humans stripped of their citizenship.

    Hacking the surrounding cameras and using its own scanners, the Wau detects Ada, perched on a lateral reactor, alongside her two Xeno companions. The Wau¡¯s presence in the shipyard has drawn the attention of workers and soldiers alike; one by one, they turn to look at it, until the silence travels all the way up to Ada and the others.

    The young girl leans out from her reactor, 120 meters high¡ª600 meters away from the Wau, but it sees her perfectly, wearing a defiant smirk.

    She thinks she¡¯s Gorylkin, it muses.

    It raises a hand toward her. She throws herself backward into the reactor.

    Oh, the Wau could walk the catwalk to the checkpoint. The soldiers would relish the opportunity to waste its time, just for the story they¡¯d get to tell.

    Instead, it bends its knees, and, as the catwalk trembles beneath its weight, it leaps 600 meters into the reactor, landing with effortless grace.

    A vast opening, twenty meters in radius. The dark remnants of half-embedded asteroids are being systematically dismantled from the hull¡ªAda¡¯s work. But Ada and the Xenos are nowhere to be seen. They¡¯ve disappeared in a single second.

    The Wau advances slowly, intrigued, almost wary, along the opening, its senses sharpened. Thirty meters in, it reaches the massive hatch leading to the engines.

    It turns back. Adjusts the polarization of its visor multiple times.

    And then its targets appear.

    Ada crouches between the legs of the larger Xeno, an insect-like creature resembling a stick insect. Perched on her shoulder, another one¡ªperhaps a pet, a lizard.

    The Xeno can emit a field of light outside the visible spectrum, rendering itself and its surroundings invisible to human eyes.

    Interesting.

    ¡°There¡¯s no one here,¡± the Wau says aloud as it retraces its steps.

    Enhancing its auditory sensitivity, it now picks up Ada¡¯s panicked breathing.

    It walks past her and stops, turning its back.

    It faces the opening, looking out over Prospero¡¯s Omnipole. Tiny nanorobots detach from its armor, sampling material from the two Xenos¡ªone lands discreetly on Ada. As long as she remains within two kilometers of an LE?network, the Wau will always know her location. With the Derive network and entangled gates, it estimates it could track her down anywhere in the SH¡¯s most populated sphere within seventeen minutes.

    The results are astounding: the Xenos are not in the Wau Order¡¯s databases.

    Are they from Clelia?

    The Wau probes Ada¡¯s mind¡ªshe fears the Wau, sees it as an enemy. Her thoughts are too polarized to glean anything further.

    For a moment, it considers probing deeper, using the full power of the Empty Eyes¡ªbut in doing so, would it be any different from her jailer on Calchas?

    Everything comes in time.

    It raises its arm like the villainous Wau at the end of every League of Antioch serial episode.

    ¡°Gorylkin,¡± it thunders, ¡°so you escape me once again! The mind has triumphed over strength! But one day, Gorylkin, it is I who shall win!¡±

    A surge of intense emotion¡ªwonder and delight¡ªrises in Ada¡¯s heart.

    An interesting avenue for establishing dialogue.

    The Wau adds, in a lower voice, almost with regret:

    ¡°Gorylkin¡­ my enemy. If you were truly here, I wouldn¡¯t kill you. Not immediately. You see, the HS did not send a rock to Clelia. And I imagine you will tell me it wasn¡¯t the League of Antioch either.

    We hate each other. We fight. But we do not destroy worlds. We do not slaughter humans blindly.

    Gorylkin¡­ perhaps there is a greater enemy out there. An adversary for both of us.

    You were on Clelia, my enemy. Perhaps you know more than I do. Perhaps you have a clue. Perhaps, alone, you are already solving this mystery¡ªalready outwitting this powerful adversary.

    And if that adversary exists¡­ then perhaps I will unleash my strength against them rather than against you.¡±

    Ada¡¯s psyche is in turmoil, but dominated by paralyzing fear. It is too soon. The words must be given time to take root.

    The Wau decides to wait and leaps 600 meters back to the catwalk, where bystanders eagerly take photos with their terminals.

    Hidden in a spectrum of light invisible to human eyes, Ada, breathless, wonders what the real Gorylkin would have done in her place.

    <hr>

    THE QUESTION OF THE DAY WITH INGO IZAN

    ¡°Today, none other than Tohil, of the Admiralty Council, will answer the question of the day. Tell me, Admiral, when you can have food and shelter every day, access to healthcare, and a guaranteed After someday¡ªwhy on earth would anyone risk enlisting in the Stellar Fleet? Who are the fools who make up your army?¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on, Ingo! Sure, you can sit on your ass your whole life, watching trashy shows and eating the daily special at the diner downstairs¡ªbut is that really living? No!

    Man was made for great adventures, to defend his fellow citizens with his mind and body. How many people never leave their home village, when LE?networks let you travel the entire universe? In the Fleet, every day is a new planet. Every day, a new problem. And every day, the solution depends on you.

    I get that it¡¯s not for everyone, but I know that deep down, everyone dreams of adventure, of purpose, of being important to others.

    And besides, most of us lose our families early¡ªthey go to the After, and you¡¯re left alone. The Stellar Fleet is a family. It will never abandon you.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of the After¡­ We all know we¡¯ll end up there someday. But how do you explain to soldiers that if they die in battle, that¡¯s it? No After for the dead.¡±

    **¡°Death is rare, but it happens. That¡¯s why, alongside the SH, we have the pre-upload protocol. At key moments in a soldier¡¯s life¡ªenlistment, orange alerts, dangerous mission briefings, prototype testing, frontline deployment¡ªtheir psyche is saved. If the soldier dies, that backup is uploaded to the After.

    In many ways, you could say the After is more guaranteed for a soldier than for a civilian. And the best part? The Fleet covers all costs.¡±

 The dark unit

    The Wau made its way back to the astroport with its steady, measured pace. Technicians and pilots were taking images of its ship¡ªThe Halcyon.

    Halcyons were exceedingly rare vessels, and even the Wau knew of only one: its own. A black bird with fine golden streaks, resting on the tarmac, as large as an Ozymandias, sculpted with straight, geometric lines that might have belonged to some Xeno Atlantis.

    The Halcyon opened at its arrival, imposing a respectful silence upon the gathered crowd. Like much of Wau technology, The Halcyon was also an Armor¡ªabsorbing the Wau as much as it welcomed it inside.

    With a single impulse, the vessel lifted itself, the grappling mechanism carrying it smoothly into the sky. Then, in a maneuver that left all the pilots watching in awe, it immediately engaged Drift and vanished.

    The black bird, nearly invisible in space, reappeared two seconds later above Francisco-1, the fractured planet.

    A thousand years ago, this planet¡ªonce rich with developing flora and fauna¡ªhad shattered for unknown reasons. A geological catastrophe of massive scale, a runaway Transient artifact, or an invisible weapon¡ªno one knew. What remained was a world split in two from pole to pole: one hemisphere, now blackened, held a thin atmosphere only a few centimeters thick¡ªjust enough to sustain mosses, lichens, and microscopic insects. The other hemisphere had broken apart into space, revealing seas of hardened magma, moons of diamond and precious metals, and a colossal iron core, all hidden within billions upon billions of drifting planetary fragments.

    Anyone traveling to Francisco almost always stopped at Orion Prime, a massive space station¡ªoriginally a scientific outpost but later overrun by mining prospectors when the planet¡¯s resources were opened for exploitation.

    The delicate hyperchalcum ring had swollen with added modules¡ªastroports, factories, refineries, and, of course, hundreds of pleasure hubs where miners could spend in one night the thalers they had toiled for a month to earn.

    Today, Orion Prime had grown into a rough, misshapen sphere of metal and rock, twelve kilometers in length, infamous across the SH for its extreme political instability.

    But The Halcyon, invisible to the naked eye and beyond the reach of any civilian detection system, plunged into Francisco-1¡¯s fragmented hemisphere, navigating through one of the densest, most hidden asteroid clusters.

    One of the asteroids bloomed open like a flower, welcoming The Halcyon inside.

    The Legends Are True: The Wau Have a Stellar Base¡ªBut Not Only That.

    This base was the Wau¡¯s personal sanctuary. No other member of its Order had crossed its threshold since it took up its mantle¡ªthough there had been another Wau here before.

    The base was a sphere of hyperchalcum, embedded into an asteroid, composed of a landing platform for The Halcyon, a living and rest area with a large bay window (reinforced with an interface capable of connecting to any SH surveillance camera).

    At the far ends were two Entangled Gates¡ªstructures as rare as they were costly, priced at approximately twenty billion thalers per pair.

    Outside of Prospero and Earth, no world possessed more than a single Entangled Gate, typically reserved for ship or train transit.

    These gates¡ªderived from Transient technology and still incomprehensible to humans (or the Wau)¡ªremained continuously open to another gate, regardless of distance.

    To the left, the gate led to a modest apartment on Lennox, where the Wau conducted various operations incognito¡ªwithout the Armor.

    To the right, the gate led to the Sanctum, a place even the Transients could not reach.

    The lower section of the Stellar Fortress housed a sprawling, tentacular apparatus of cables and central units processing information across quantum planes, multidimensional constructs, decimal and fractal models, universes, and temporal periods.

    It also featured an experimental implementation of the ¡°Veritatis¡±¡ªa Xeno method used by a species known as the Freemen, located near the Transcendence.

    The Veritatis allowed for determining the truth or reality of a theorem without requiring proof.

    At the heart of this labyrinth of servers and cables hummed a unique exosuit called The Dark Unit.

    Oh, There Was Much Work To Be Done¡ªBut One Thing Took Priority: Sleep.

    The Wau Order had a directive¡ªideally, sleep for ten continuous hours every two months, to allow the subconscious to purge itself.

    The Wau was at three months, and, every so often, small hallucinations haunted its thoughts.

    ¡°The Alpha¡¯s Single Bed¡±¡ªa humorous phrase originating from UniPsi.

    When a psi of major strength, say Alpha-class, sleeps, their dreams are shared with those nearby. As a result, they tend to sleep alone¡ªthough the fictional film In My Wife¡¯s Dreams remained a PanSH classic, aired every year.

    However, when an Omega-class Empty Eye, enhanced by Wau training, falls asleep and dreams¡ªthose dreams infiltrate the psyches of all sentient beings and sensitive animals across an entire star system and sometimes beyond, entirely uncontrollable.

    What they dream becomes reality for billions¡ªbeings of wonder or horror appear, cities rise or fall.

    It is nothing but illusion¡ªyet capable of throwing entire populations into chaos for ten hours straight.

    Thus, for psi of its caliber, the Wau Order had constructed Hypnos¡ªthe Rest Exosuit: a comfortable, transparent pod housed in a dimly lit, silent chamber, linked to The Dark Unit.

    The Dark Unit would analyze the Wau¡¯s psychic waves, invert them, and send them back at equal power to neutralize them.

    The energy required for this counterwave emitter was so immense that only antimatter could sustain it.

    Even in this advanced era, antimatter remained exceptionally costly and difficult to obtain¡ªthe Wau sourced it from an automated laboratory on Lennox.

    In Short, The Simple Need to Sleep Required More Logistics Than Any Other Wau Operation.

    The Wau allowed the automated maintenance system to remove its Armor and purge its interior.

    At last, fresh air¡ªconfined for so long¡ªflowed against its skin.

    When not wearing the Armor, the Wau was Cass¡ªan athletic woman with short black hair and golden eyes (a cosmetic choice; she had been born with black eyes), betraying an intelligence that never rests.

    Nude, she felt the coolness of the floor against her bare feet before making her way to Hypnos.

    She lay down.

    And within a single second, she was asleep¡ªsuch was the measure of her exhaustion.

    She woke precisely ten hours later.

    Even without an assistance AI, her mind had been trained for precision.

    She emerged from ten hours of dreams¡ªwhere Transients, dancers, planetary catastrophes, mathematics, a welding torch piercing Hyperchalc, snakes, and Xenos all intertwined.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    <hr>

    She relaxed in the living space¡ªa rudimentary kitchen and a bay window.

    She requested to see the endless oceans of Iris beyond the Ariel Gate¡ªan oceanic planet and nature reserve under Transient protection, devoid of tectonic activity or moons, where the water was as smooth as oil, and where one could study marine life through the patterns it traced on the surface.

    A machine prepared a cup of coffee.

    Wearing the Armor too often for her own good, her stomach had shrunk, and her intestines functioned at a minimum, sustained by the nutrients diffused through the Armor.

    How would she survive, stranded without her Armor on a planet?

    I¡¯m weakening, she thought, noting that she needed to rebalance her physiology as soon as possible.

    Right after the Clelia case.

    Even though there was always another case.

    She descended the steps toward the Dark Unit¡ªanother Armor, this one immense, imbued with the ultimate energy of the universe, the energy that arises from the annihilation of a thing by its opposite.

    A sarcophagus within a box, itself in a pit of darkness, entwined by a shadowy forest of cables and all-powerful mathematical sentinels, designed by minds far superior to what humanity would ever become.

    Like The Halcyon, like the Armor, the Sarcophagus absorbed her, and Cass became Wau again, processing billions of inquiries.

    A part of her mind froze when she received a message from Ada:

    <hr>

    From: Gorylkin

    To: Wau Order

    Message:

    Wau Order, this is your adversary: Gorylkin.

    You sent one of your henchmen to Prospero to look for me, but he wasn¡¯t smart enough to find me.

    I saw him.

    You¡¯re not as strong as you think.

    But that doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve thought it over, and I don¡¯t think you were responsible for the destruction of Clelia.

    In fact, I suspect you¡¯re conducting some sort of investigation into the rock that appeared out of nowhere.

    But you¡¯re SH¡¯s dogs¡ªyou don¡¯t see everything.

    We know the Wau.

    If the Wau Order really wants to know who the true villains of this story are¡­ If you¡¯re capable of accepting that these villains are people from the SH, ministers and bigwigs¡­

    If the Wau are willing to conduct an investigation that could end with: the real villain is the leader of the Wau, then here¡¯s a lead:

    Those who control us are altering the LE.

    There are certain questions and answers in LE that are too short¡ªfar too short to be honest, when we know how verbose it usually is, especially when saying nothing at all.

    Caliban, the planet.

    Inverted Babel.

    That¡¯s all I¡¯ll say.

    If you have even a quarter of the intelligence that the idiots in SH think you do, you¡¯ll find the answer.

    Impress your adversary, Gorylkin.

    Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.

    Maybe you¡¯ll even earn the truce you secretly hope for.

    Until then¡­

    The mind triumphs over strength, Wau!

    <hr>

    The Wau feel no emotion¡ªonly the regret of no longer having any, the Order had once told Cass.

    And yet, she allowed herself a faint smile.

    So the LE had altered entries?

    Given the nature of neural networks, that was unlikely. The fundamental structure of a neural network was its ability to correct itself continuously.

    But then again¡­

    Let¡¯s consider the following scenario:

    There exist forbidden questions.

    Caliban, for example.

    Unlikely, since the planet was in the news¡ªbut let¡¯s assume.

    Ada, on Clelia, asks a forbidden question about Caliban.

    Nothing happens.

    Then, Sky Mgamwi, a Raven pilot, lands on the planet, and Drift synchronizes EV interactions with the SH network.

    Protocols detect the forbidden question¡ªAnd a higher power annihilates Clelia.

    Unlikely, but not impossible.

    The key would be to avoid asking the forbidden question.

    Another problem with the hypothesis: How does an isolated young woman on a lost planet with no trace of civilization ask the forbidden question?

    <hr>

    With the mechanical sighs of the Dark Unit, Cass extracted herself from the sarcophagus.

    Her intuition gnawed at her.

    Among the billions of pending requests, there were countless mysteries and tragedies¡ªboth human and Xeno.

    But this one¡­ had the subtle breath of mystery that belonged to the Transients.

    She returned to the living space and realized she hadn¡¯t even touched her coffee.

    (The common term was BN for Breuvage Noir¡ªthe term ¡°coffee¡± was reserved only for plantations on two planets: Earth and Hume, whose humid soil was exceptionally suited for cultivation.)

    She picked up the cup before settling into a leather chair¡ªone that, once again, seemed to absorb her.

    The lights dimmed as she requested a view of Earth from its primary orbital station, Hope.

    The blackness of space, a scattering of stars, and the green expanse of the Sahara stretching toward the Mediterranean¡¯s deep blue.

    Nearly five thousand years ago, the Wau Order had been founded there.

    <hr>

    Let¡¯s Verify.

    Inverted Babel.

    Curious. Keep that in a mental box.

    Now, let¡¯s test Caliban.

    Anyone who followed the news knew that name.

    <hr>

    ¡°LE, connect me to the standard HS LE. Use a proxy on¡­ let¡¯s say, Prospero.¡±

    ¡°Switching to standard HS?LE. Switched.¡± (The intonation became lighter.)

    ¡°LE, tell me about Caliban.¡±

    ¡°The Caliban War? Caliban is a system on the border between the Human Society and a dissident faction known as the League of Antioch. Since¡ª¡±

    ¡°LE, no. Tell me about the planets in the Caliban system.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really have any interesting information on that topic.¡±

    <hr>

    Cass raised an eyebrow.

    Years ago, she had seen the planet with her own eyes¡ªwhen her Armor had been the only thing standing between innocent civilians and an assault force in the corridors of a Shareplace.

    What had the planet looked like¡­?

    The memory was hazy.

    Clouds, maybe?

    Her chest tightened.

    Since when had Cass been unable to recall something, even a detail?

    What the hell was this¡­?

    The LE Continued:

    ¨C ¡°Caliban is the title of a song by a band called The Stranded. Would you like me to play it?¡±¨C ¡°LE, tell me about the planet Caliban-1.¡±¨C ¡°Caliban-1 is a planet around which several Shareplaces are orbiting, belonging to¡ª¡±¨C ¡°LE, you¡¯re exhausting me. Tell me about Caliban-1: its atmosphere, xenobiology reports, geology, and planetary constants.¡±¨C ¡°I apologize for tiring you; I will strive to be clearer. I have no information on Caliban-1. Would you like to hear about Caliban-1 in the culture of the League of Antioch? It is known as the planet of war, and¡ª¡±¨C ¡°Has this information been erased? Is it classified as military or strategic?¡±¨C ¡°Unknown User, I do not wish to mislead you with information that I do not possess. I simply have no data on Caliban-1. However, may I tell you about Caliban, the character from The Tempest? Or the play itself?¡±¨C ¡°How many people ask you about Caliban-1 per day?¡±¨C ¡°Today, one.¡±

    Cass was certain now: the LE was doing something no one thought it was capable of¡ªit was lying.

    But was it truly capable of lying?

    After the paper encyclopedias of pre-informatic times, then Wikipedia of early internet days, followed by GPTpedia of the 21st century, search engines and personal assistants had merged into a universal interface for human knowledge¡ªone that even extended partially into the After, possessing its own LE.

    Any human in the presence of a Living Encyclopedia was augmented: it could confirm their identity, answer any practical question, and even diagnose conditions through voice analysis.

    The LE didn¡¯t just store facts that were reported to it¡ªpeople had stopped reporting facts to it entirely by 2100. Instead, it collected them on its own, being connected to all private and public social networks on the planet, then used neural networks to anticipate them.

    For example, by analyzing the number of ships transiting through a system¡ªtracking their departures from planets with cameras¡ªit could estimate the real-time population size and living standards of any given world.

    So for the LE to say, ¡°I have no data on Caliban-1,¡± was simply not credible to anyone who understood how it functioned.

    However, humans¡ªhaving accessed the LE their entire lives and always receiving useful answers¡ªhad been conditioned to accept any response as both true and useful, even if that response was simply, ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    But here lay the nature of neural networks: they don¡¯t know how to say ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    In fact, it is easier for them to lie¡ªbecause their primary function is not necessarily to tell the truth, but rather to respond.

    <hr>

    Would the Wau have to go to Caliban-1?

    Cass wondered if a mysterious asteroid might just happen to crash into the planet the moment she got close¡­

    Thank you, Gorylkin.

    <hr>

    Cass plunged back into the Dark Unit, still without having tasted her coffee.

    One part of her mind processed requests using Scalar Balance, while another designed a small reconnaissance and exploration program.

    Just as automated ships used randomized Drift jumps to discover habitable worlds for HS expansion, the Dark Unit sent out billions upon billions of tiny digital probes through every active LE, crawling across the abstract universe of human knowledge, fragmented across countless AIs in the network.

    They were not searching for answers.

    They were searching for non-answers.

    When, after just two hours, three instances of ¡°no data¡± had already been detected¡ªCass knew she was onto something serious.

    She decided it was time to stop handling requests from the Wau Order¡¯s message queue.

    She had hoped this tactic would stir something up¡ªand now, she had caught it by the ears.

    <hr>

    Once the final duel was processed, Cass set a temporary suspension notice in the EV and compiled a last meta-analysis to send to her collaborators on Titus, in case they might one day automate Scalar Balance.

    Oh, but she did take a moment to reply to Ada:

    <hr>

    From: Wau Order

    To: Gorylkin

    Message:

    Thank you for your message, Gorylkin.

    Take care of yourself, because the privilege of defeating you must belong to a Wau, and no one else.

    The mind triumphs over strength.

    <hr>

    And since that was a rather weak reward for such a promising lead, Cass decided to do something more.

    Using the Dark Unit, she found a young, Earth-born noble¡ªboth charming and adventurous¡ªnamed Dorian.

    She then inserted a subtle glitch into the flight programming of his Adventura¡ªa ship as sharp as an Ozymandias, yet plump like a merchant vessel.

    An Adventura, indeed, named The Audacious¡ªwhite and gold.

    This minor flaw would lead him to land precisely at Ada¡¯s makeshift shelter.

    A small mental suggestion, embedded into his favorite serialized drama, would ensure that he wandered into the slums and took pity on the girl¡ªultimately hiring her and her Xenos companions as his ship¡¯s guardians.

    And with that¡ª

    The stars were hers.

    Adventure, luxury, and at last¡ªthe comfortable life everyone dreams of.

 The Sanctum

    Cass exported the results and stored them in a mental box labeled "list." There might have been, perhaps, in this list, a word that, once sufficiently pondered, would alert the Transients (though, having traveled through the cables of the Dark Unit, the risk was already as great as real).

    She rose back onto the Fortress floor, donned her Armor which sealed around her, and activated the Entangled Gate leading to the Sanctum.

    This required several manipulations: first, the gate activated for a millisecond to send an alert to the Wau present in the Sanctum. They refrained from having any thoughts whatsoever during the following minute, after which the gate reactivated fully, allowing Cass to pass through.

    The gate was usually round to maximize surface usage from available energy, but, as the ultimate luxury, the Sanctum''s gate was rectangular, resembling double doors leading into some esoteric realm. When it activated, it shone brightly, a flash illuminating the Fortress, since stray air molecules were abruptly severed (gates also served to cut masses or beings in half upon activation or deactivation, though obviously never used that way). And then there was simply continuity of space, as if the corridor of black metal streaked with gold had always been there.

    One step, the gate closed behind her. Flash. Corridor.

    The Wau never encountered each other, even accidentally. Each had their own Fortress, their Entangled Gates, their business, presumably. A Wau was sufficient unto themselves, she had been told during recruitment when an AI drone guided her from the rendezvous point on Lennox to Francisco-1 and then this space.

    This place also featured an Hypnos on the right door and a more conventional living area, but above all, a place for remote visual exchanges with other Wau, located at the end of the corridor behind august double doors, and finally, to the left, a space dedicated to meditation.

    This meditation room was also constructed of black metal streaked with hyperchalcum gold. The lighting was dim and warm. A single large armchair faced a bay window revealing absolute darkness.

    An absolute darkness demonstrating precisely what the Sanctum was.

    The question the Wau posed upon first encountering the Transients was: where could we hide so that they could not eavesdrop on our thoughts? Unable, unlike certain Xenos, to slip into decimal or higher dimensions, the answer was: as far away as possible.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Thus, they created a vessel loaded with Entangled Gates and initiated a Drift of force 6 in a random direction. Unfortunately, the first vessel, by an extraordinarily unlucky, highly improbable, and perhaps even suspicious twist of fate, incinerated itself within a star. Well, there was a Sanctum 2, and that one had a safer destiny: this was the ship the Wau currently inhabited.

    The Wau had never seen this ship from outside; he could only imagine its appearance. Its walls were strangely impervious to any form of probing¡ªstriking them yielded only a hollow sound. Yet sometimes he placed his hand upon a wall or the floor, trying to detect a faint vibration indicating that somewhere, in inaccessible chambers, a Brother of the Order was near, acting, doubting, enduring the solitude of their status.

    Through this bay window, his predecessors had witnessed galaxies dancing during the Drift of force 6. Initially, the ship had crossed our perceptible bubble of 15 billion light-years, allowing the Wau to observe stars unseen by any human before. Then the vessel surpassed the boundary of the expanding universe: 93 billion light-years. There was a final galaxy, a final star, perhaps even a last molecule of wandering hydrogen in the great abyss, and the ship entered absolute nothingness¡ªone that would someday be conquered by the expanding Universe but was now just a bubble of emptiness welcoming the slow evolution of cooling fusion masses, occasionally hosting individuals who thought, fought, stirred, and sometimes loved.

    Five years ago, melancholically, the vessel passed the 110 billion light-years mark. The universe, first a wall of stars, compressed over the years into a shrinking ball, and eventually, even that ball disappeared. The vessel traveled beyond where the light of the last star reached. Only absolute emptiness remained, as testified by the darkened bay window.

    The Wau knew that the Sanctum would drift endlessly toward the edge of this void, which itself possessed a boundary of sorts. Reality is a bubble in slightly more than five dimensions. Just as walking straight on a spherical planet eventually brings you back to your starting point, upon reaching the "end" of a five-dimensional bubble, you reappear on the other side. It''s not actually reappearing, since the process is continuous, but that¡¯s how it would look on a two-dimensional diagram. This boundary was set at 160 billion light-years from the vessel¡¯s point of origin. Drift processes ensured that the ship would wander until the end of time toward this Omega point, the extreme distance from everything. Yet, perhaps upon arrival, there would not merely be emptiness: perhaps shy or daring Xenos had had the same idea before the Wau. Perhaps there existed, in that absolute darkness and distance, a galaxy free of all control harboring advanced civilizations. This Omega point, however, the Wau would never see in his lifetime.

    In the meantime, hidden within this black ocean, the Waus believed they had their best chance at finally thinking without being spied on by gods.

 Lennox

    The Wau opens the mental box and consults the list of themes with answers deemed too brief:

    Caliban-1

    Stellar Language

    David Ilsner

    Inverted Babel

    S-422421

    and other negligible entries. These entries were nonsensical expressions brute-forced by robots from the Dark Unit, to which the LEs had simply replied, ¡°I did not understand your question.¡±

    Let¡¯s examine the list.

    Caliban-1 is one of the core issues. A planet of mysteries. But also a planet on the frontline of the current war. What if the war was fought because of something on the planet? Government leaders would have erased this information, even if it meant aggressive intervention using top-tier scientists to manipulate the LE. A lead worth investigating.

    Stellar Language. The lack of information might be explainable: the Wau was aware of a human-Xeno agreement protecting this language for religious reasons.

    S-422421. ¡°S¡± stands for ¡°star cluster¡± or ¡°galaxy.¡± The S-422 class represents ¡°absent galaxies.¡± Approximately 800 have been identified to date. They are extremely distant galaxies, requiring one to three weeks of Drift at force 5 or 6 from the SH bubble to reach. These galaxies are inexplicably ¡°invisible.¡± Their mass has been detected but not their image, as if they were ¡°painted black¡±: black holes, intermediary debris, or the elusive dark matter¡ªthe mystery remains. The HS had conducted costly expeditions, finding nothing. However, once again, if the SH had discovered, say, dark matter and envisioned military use, perhaps it would keep it secret until peacetime.

    The ¡°Inverted Babels¡± represent a peculiar anomaly. Their mystical nature recalls the Transients, but this distinctly human designation overlooks the deeply Xeno aspect inherent to all Transients. Could it be yet another human project? The Wau had come across information¡ªperhaps just a rumor¡ªabout a fractal-dimensional ship reportedly under construction somewhere lost in the universe.

    Lastly, David Ilsner.

    Who are you, David Ilsner, and what did you do to make the HS or Transients want your name erased from history? David appeared to be the most promising and easiest lead to solve in the short term.

    No man is an island. It¡¯s always possible to trick the LEs using meta-queries such as, ¡°Who was David Ilsner¡¯s father?¡± However, this approach carries the risk of stepping into the dangerous territory of forbidden questions.

    The Wau closes the list in a mental box. Find a good spy. Condition him here. Perhaps investigate LE alterations. Ah, and refill antimatter¡ªthe reserves here are dwindling.

    The Wau stands, alert to any noise his counterparts might transmit through the ship¡¯s structure, but everything is silent. The few times he¡¯d participated in council meetings, he¡¯d failed to comprehend the inner thoughts of his brothers in the Order. Did they ever feel lonely? Overwhelmed by their mission? Or did they do nothing at all? After all, there was neither obligation nor agenda within the Order...

    The Wau crosses the Entangled Gate again, then discards the Armor. Cass¡¯s hair floats free once more.

    She passes through the other Entangled Gate and arrives in her apartment in Lennox, through a sliding opening otherwise leading to a wardrobe. A bedroom, a living room¡ªa discreet, minimalistic place in the most luxurious district of this distant world. Cass dons a subtle suit and moves toward the large bay window.

    Lennox is a world overshadowed by the concept of freedom. Not that its citizens are particularly free¡ªsociety, like a child, often waves around the word describing its immediate need rather than its true nature.

    For Lennox is a distant world, one of those remote places like Fang, Ur, or everything beyond Ariel, reachable only by several Drifts from Earth or Prospero, and (officially...) lacking an Entangled Gate. Originally profoundly uninhabitable: violet lands saturated with potassium, an acidic atmosphere poisoned by a lethal mixture of sulfur and carbon. Xenobiologists claimed they hadn¡¯t found a single living cell (though the more Cass discovered about the HS, the more she felt xenobiologists were corrupt, foolish, or genocidal). Yet, Lennox had one vanity: its rocky surface consisted of large cubic crystals. Flying over it, a traveler would see a pixelated world: cubic mountains flanked by cubic hills or proudly standing cubic grains of sand between cubic rocks. ¡°Potassium crystallization,¡± said jaded chemists.

    The world¡¯s remoteness from the HS bubble but proximity to its star made Lennox ideal for testing an outrageously expensive Transient technology called the terraforming bomb (or, in their words, the seed of life)¡ªa bomb with simple components but whose precise functioning still eluded HS AIs.

    The Council designated a temperate zone and released the bomb, the result of five years¡¯ work by a million scientists: a perfect hundred-kilometer disk of soil and atmosphere transformed to sustain human life instantly. Grass sprouted from rock that very evening. Like all Transient artifacts, the result was miraculous.

    Yet Lennox¡¯s miracle soon turned scandalous, escalating into a human-Xeno controversy. A new, autonomous city arose, populated by intrusive scientists who began exploring deeper. It turned out the cubic crystals had a structure far more complex than ordinary minerals. They weren¡¯t sentient¡ªno, it was worse: the crystalline structures were the Afterstate of sentient beings who had once inhabited the planet. They had extended and then preserved their consciousness within these structures, into which humanity carelessly stepped. The scandal widened: as humans happily desecrated the graveyard of an ancient mysterious race, other Xeno civilizations, some with atmosphere-adapted bombs, and others finding Lennox¡¯s original atmosphere appealing, settled with equal disregard.

    Humanity made half-hearted attempts to dissuade them, but these efforts were deemed illogical, hypocritical, or incomprehensible.

    Thus, Lennox became both a shameful chapter in humanity¡¯s colonial emancipation and a unique site for human-Xeno interactions. Apart from Earth, Xenos are numerous within human populations and number in the billions on Prospero.

    But these recent cases involved Xenos whose physiology tolerated human living conditions, making them ¡°foreign yet not entirely alien¡± to humans. Lennox, however, proposed coexistence with radically different beings, including certain advanced societies¡ªan unprecedented opportunity to approach an often-rejected yet intriguing otherness.

    Indeed, Lennox hosted a comprehensive university, UniNox, which uniquely within the Human Society (HS), included a psi department accepting Xenos. Here, ethically questionable comparative consciousness experiments were conducted. Freedom, yet again.

    This coexistence, which mocked conventional ethics, the planet¡¯s remote location, and especially Lennox¡¯s original sin¡ªblamed by its inhabitants on a government they deemed deaf and blind¡ªhad fostered a culture of defiance and liberty. Since Prospero, Lennoxians had gained a reputation as picturesque professionals of indignation.

    A hundred kilometers radius was limited space for human enterprise; thus, Lennox expanded vertically, both upward and downward. Titanic Xeno arcologies of similar scale proliferated across the surface. At the top glittered the Prefect¡¯s Palace, an angular architecture striving to distance itself from its original cube-based design.

    The deeper one descended, the less governmental authority held sway: security transitioned from police to militias, and eventually to private bodyguards. The underground zone, technically the After of Lennox¡¯s unknown civilization, was officially considered outside the HS by a government eager to disclaim responsibility¡ªbut existed nonetheless.

    Lennoxian society had turned the Abyss¡ªas it was named¡ªinto an experiment in liberty. Thus existed an area called the True Abyss, the lowest and broadest underground level, where freedom was absolute, and no actions could be reproached. Was it an interesting experiment? As Aloysius, a Lennox scholar dear to Cass, had remarked, ¡°We grant absolute freedom to humans hoping they¡¯ll create an unhindered masterpiece that will revolutionize humanity, and instead, we end up with people who take pleasure in strangling puppies.¡±

    Lennox was strategically significant for Cass: it housed both allies and foes useful to her operations. Moreover, despite its distance from the HS, Wau could intervene via the Entangled Gate in case of crisis. Cass exhibited peculiar behavior, living on the margins of society¡ªa suspicious trait on Earth, yet entirely commonplace here.

    She grabbed a student backpack and rushed down her building¡¯s stairs, glimpsing the powerful aurora borealis marking the terraforming disk¡¯s edge.

    Streets of molten stone and metal; passersby dressed uniquely yet comfortably. Dreamers lying down, watching giant movies projected onto what was the floor of the upper level, a hundred meters above. Thieves. Predators capable of the worst, thinking ¡°what a lovely girl, she¡¯s mine¡±¡ªbefore experiencing a psychic cold shower that would eliminate sexual excitement for a month. Xenos clinging to walls like moss, or tentacled walking cones mistakenly devouring someone¡¯s poor fox-terrier amid its owner¡¯s screams.

    Elevators existed, but Cass¡¯s transhuman body delighted in exerting itself without mechanical assistance from her Armor: she ascended stairs at speeds unreachable even by augmented humans, under the bored, indifferent gaze of drugged Lennoxians who perceived only a shadow.

    Two arcology levels higher, she reached the industrial district, patrolled by massive wheeled drones armed like tanks. This level, privatized by companies indistinguishable from organized cartels and exploiting Lennox¡¯s ¡°freedom loophole¡± to produce otherwise forbidden goods, served as a security buffer between the Abyss and the administration. This large district was meticulously ordered, contrary to the chaotic construction below: perpendicular streets with checkpoints and factories laid out in vast squares six kilometers on each side.

    Cass resumed a normal walking pace. She did not fear the armed drones of private militias but sought to avoid attracting attention. Passing two blocks, she arrived at the antimatter production facility¡ªa polished metal factory gleaming under golden lights, enveloped in multiple spaced glass layers deterring theft through repeated checks. At the entrance, two armed drones, then a checkpoint with a soldier. They had been briefed: deliveries were sometimes conducted by disconcerting figures, such as this vague, older student. Her identity was verified multiple times.

    One of the checkpoints was managed by a Xeno¡ªan argent octopus with countless tentacles from a society known as the People of Light. Cass recognized a member from an amphibious community at Gobbo¡¯s southern pole, renowned for cities delicately carved from ice, illuminated to enhance their society¡¯s physical beauty. They occasionally exuded a highly energetic black fluid, thus becoming the subject of illegal trade in the HS.

    ¡°A Xeno handling checks?¡± Cass remarked aloud, more to herself than to him.

    ¡°Specist?¡± replied the being from the People of Light.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I see human thinking has thoroughly penetrated you,¡± joked Cass.

    ¡°Specist,¡± concluded the Xeno, gesturing her through after validating her vocal signature.

    A psi check followed. The psi was a UniNox intern amusing himself by creating an illusory insect for the accompanying soldier to chase fruitlessly. His psi abilities matched his ethics¡ªweak, Cass mused silently, in a corner of her mind he¡¯d never access. He¡¯d end up in the Abyss.

    Inside the factory, an android powered by AI approached her.

    Since 2050, AI could convincingly simulate consciousness. With After and personality emulation, intact human psyches could be transferred to electronic brains. These personalities could theoretically inhabit human-like robots and continue their lives¡ªa concept tested for decades.

    Eventually, a clear division arose between After and reality¡ªhumans in After had no interest in returning, leaving only AIs behind. For religious and ethical reasons, distinguishing between humans and AI became essential. Thus, the ancient science-fiction term ¡°Android¡± was resurrected, describing humanoid robots clearly identifiable as artificial through their movements, speech, and empty gaze. Politeness dictated that interlocutors be reminded they interacted with a non-human. Consequently, during important trials attended by Transients, they respectfully inhabited androids. Though ¡°After Cyrano¡± (2710) had ignited public enthusiasm, the general tendency over centuries favored human-only interactions, disinterest toward AIs prevailing.

    The AI judged Cass neither by age nor appearance. It didn¡¯t suspect when she unzipped the student backpack, extracting an antimatter container worth millions of thalers, nor when she provided three validation codes matching an anonymous, ultra-wealthy client¡¯s order. Indeed, transporting something costing ten million thalers per gram through a seemingly young, innocent woman struck the AI as a brilliantly subtle protective measure.

    Cass exited through checks again. The psi intern intruded into her fabricated personal life. Annoyed by his insolence, she imagined a passionate relationship with two men whose profiles she pulled from his memories. Both mocked the intern mercilessly, calling him pathetic and undignified. Visibly shaken, he averted his eyes as she departed.

    Leaving the factory, Cass noted another ascending staircase. She intended to visit UniNox. Positioned between the Prefect¡¯s Palace and industrial zone, the university floor, bolstered by security, housed luxurious hotels ostensibly for visiting lecturers but, in reality, accommodated extreme tourists with darker ambitions in the True Abyss.

    UniNox was a prestigious establishment dating from an era before Lennox became scandalous. White stone, wood, extensive gardens, terrestrial animals, parks, amphitheaters¡ªand the controversial, modern psi department nearby in metal and glass.

    Sadly, UniNox was silent. With AIs excelling as researchers and communicators, and Transients effortlessly resolving their challenges, research had become a bureaucratic haven for intellectually mediocre individuals chasing easy thalers and unambitious dreams.

    However, there were courses in a generalist science known as Post-Transient Philosophy. Literally, it was wisdom, customs, common sense¡ªthe observation of humanity by humanity¡ªthe sole intellectual counterweight to a science increasingly beyond human control. The ultimate aim of these PTP courses was to create well-rounded individuals, non-specialized, independent of the LEs, heralding a new Renaissance. They would be capable, among other things, of repairing a spaceship, fumbling through Xeno-speak, and distinguishing right from wrong.

    Cass, in her difficult moments, wandered through the UniNox. With its polished woodwork, ancient paintings, and silence, the building was like a museum celebrating the intellectual progress of bygone eras. A few years earlier, her attention had been drawn to a lecture in a small amphitheater given by a certain Aloysius, a man whose hair was white with wisdom and whose black eyes hinted at a slightly mischievous intelligence. He was discussing the nature of freedom, had launched into his famous tirade about puppy stranglers, and inevitably brought up the question of humanity¡¯s relationship with the Transients. Five people were in the lecture hall, one of them a bureaucrat who¡¯d wandered in during his coffee break, unable to find anywhere else to sit.

    Cass had continued that conversation about Transients privately with Aloysius, enriching both their perspectives. Ever since, Cass would occasionally drop by to visit Aloysius, just in case he¡¯d stumbled upon a new idea.

    After wandering a bit and questioning two rather indifferent officials, she found him in a room with varnished wooden paneling and stained-glass windows, oddly contrasting with some high-tech equipment scattered about a table. Aloysius stood on the left in a white lab coat. To the right, there was a primitive Android: barely humanoid, with a torso of dark-grey metal dotted with indicator lights, topped with a camera, and equipped with articulated arms and legs. If not for its size, one might¡¯ve mistaken it for a toy.

    They were both hunched over a purple cube. Aloysius had a pair of sensors hanging from a strap around his neck, peering into the interior of the object.

    ¡°You¡¯re meddling with a stored Lennoxian consciousness?¡± Cass asked. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you display greater ethical restraint.¡±

    Aloysius removed the sensor and squinted, recognizing Cass. Strange how ageless he appeared. And in Aloysius¡¯s psyche, Cass heard echoed thoughts: Strange how young she appears.

    ¡°I¡¯m working for a worthy cause,¡± he responded. ¡°We¡¯ve abandoned any hope of decoding consciousness-storage on Lennox itself, but this little cube¡ªI found it in a souvenir shop in the Abyss. Earth¡¯s elites are snatching them up. Imagine, having a Xeno consciousness in your living room! If I figure out how it¡¯s encoded¡­¡±

    ¡°And if the Lennoxians wake up and see how we¡¯re treating them?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps they¡¯ll be grateful,¡± ventured the Android. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Cass looked pointedly at Aloysius, expecting him to make the introductions.

    ¡°My friend Proteus, this is Cassandre. I don¡¯t actually know anything about her. As far as I¡¯m aware, she could be an Empty Eyes, a spy, or even a Transient who enjoys paying me visits. What?¡± he asked, noticing Cass¡¯s closed-off expression. ¡°It¡¯s true. I know nothing about you.¡±

    ¡°You can always ask me questions.¡±

    ¡°And you can always lie to me¡­ I know you¡¯re a Psi, and no minor one at that.¡±

    Cass knew he knew, though she¡¯d never figured out how. She¡¯d never felt particularly mysterious, perhaps because she didn¡¯t notice that more often than not, she asked questions and left without receiving any in return. Nevertheless, she had no intention of elaborating further and pressed on:

    ¡°And what about him¡ªwhat exactly is he? An AI? Proteus¡­¡±

    ¡°Now there¡¯s an intriguing experiment,¡± said Aloysius. ¡°Behind the mysterious mask of this robot, Proteus, could lie an AI, a Xeno consciousness, a Transient, or perhaps a human consciousness returned from the After. Let¡¯s try a modern Turing test. Ask him a few questions.¡±

    ¡°One question will suffice,¡± Cass said enigmatically.

    She sat down comfortably, clasping her hands behind her head and stretching out her legs.

    ¡°Proteus, what do you think of the HS government?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an excellent government dedicated to meeting everyone¡¯s needs. I am proud¡ª¡±

    Cass and Aloysius simultaneously burst into laughter. How good it feels, Cass thought, to experience joy.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Proteus. ¡°Don¡¯t you approve of your government?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s profoundly Xeno to express trust in one¡¯s rulers,¡± Aloysius replied. ¡°Humans elect governments, then proceed to grumble about them. It¡¯s a societal balancing act, the absence of which would indicate severe problems. Cass, how long has it been¡ªone year, two? Since we last saw each other, a probe discovered a large, perfectly round, stone Xeno spacecraft in space near Booz. Booz truly is the Babylon of Xenos.¡±

    ¡°A stone spacecraft? Xenos that don¡¯t require atmosphere or temperature control?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t exactly a crewed flight,¡± Proteus explained.

    ¡°It was the After of a civilization whose planet was consumed by a sun that turned into a red giant,¡± Aloysius continued.

    ¡°Proteus¡¯s civilization?¡±

    ¡°A more accurate name would be ¡®The Beings Who Continuously Change for the Better.¡¯ Sam here proposed calling them Proteans. Clever, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Sam?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my first name,¡± said Aloysius. ¡°Inside this stone sphere, my colleagues discovered tablets inscribed with mathematical formulas, each generating an enormous number¡ªfar too large to record directly. We¡¯re talking about numbers around 10^82. We wondered about their purpose. I hypothesized it might be encoding information. It turns out these were coordinates, not in physical space, but in a virtual mathematical space, the standard vector space used by neural networks. They defined personalities and thoughts.¡±

    ¡°A scientific breakthrough?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, the principle itself is basic. Humans have mastered this since the early twenty-first century. It¡¯s fundamental to our AIs. Imagine planets floating in space, each with a distinct ice cream flavor: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry¡ªthe larger the planet, the stronger your preference for its flavor. It¡¯s similar to how we encode our personalities in our After. Except our Xeno here doesn¡¯t have vanilla or strawberry, he has something else entirely. Defining these new things is a massive data-matching effort. Proteus, who thankfully doesn¡¯t hold it against me, is a prototype: we did our best but had to fill in the blanks with human and known Xeno data. Apart from some eccentricities about our government, he acts remarkably human.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t resent you, Sam. I¡¯m happy to be alive.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember your previous life, Proteus?¡± Cass asked.

    ¡°Very clearly. I write precise accounts in the LE every night.¡±

    ¡°What he writes feels very ¡®human.¡¯ Reading it, there are houses, vehicles, familiar things. But I fear he¡¯s applying human interpretations to concepts originally encoded differently. A large team on Earth is working from my prototype to create something more coherent.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your most beautiful memory, Proteus?¡± Cass asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m watching the drifting rocks of our planet¡¯s great ring during a special night we call the Third Passage. It feels like a message. The stars speak to me, telling me that I must live. I cherish that memory. Look at me today¡ªI am alive.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Proteus.¡± Cass turned back to Aloysius. ¡°Sam¡ªor rather Aloysius¡ªwhy bring Proteus back to life at all? For a Lennoxian, preserving their consciousness makes sense, but Proteus? Aren¡¯t we supposed to eventually transition into the After and magically transcend? You¡¯ve reversed the process.¡±

    ¡°Transients and sentients¡ªwe are shepherds to those who wander, my dear Cass. Pouring ourselves into a server, we remain material, but we¡¯re not far from becoming pure energy. The Proteans preserved themselves as best they could. We¡¯ll build an After for them.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to become energy, is that it?¡±

    ¡°Electromagnetic fields, Cass. Exchange particles. Perhaps even probability pulses. It¡¯s either that or vanish. I suggest you hurry and find a boy or a girl to kiss because afterward, it¡¯ll be significantly less enjoyable.¡±

    Aloysius occasionally slipped in small remarks to probe Cass. He punctuated these remarks with subtle psychic nudges, but at his skill level, it would be impossible for him to distinguish between an empty room (the mind of a non-Psi) and a room containing a ten-kilometer mountain whose face formed one wall (roughly the scale of Cass¡¯s Psi strength). Cass remained impassive and continued:

    ¡°I have a question.¡±

    ¡°I love questions,¡± said Proteus.

    ¡°That¡¯s precisely what the world lacks, my old Xeno friend,¡± Sam said, raising a finger. ¡°A good question.¡±

    ¡°I suspect an unknown hand is selectively altering certain LE entries. Is this possible?¡±

    ¡°And by ¡®unknown hand,¡¯¡± Aloysius whispered to Proteus, ¡°she means a Transient. It¡¯s her obsession. Well, let¡¯s see... Every serious scientist would say it¡¯s impossible, given the multidimensional redundancy of AI systems. One could argue that even if an entry were erased, it would be recreated¡ªpossibly even improved¡ªthrough natural generative processes. If your suspicion proves true, here¡¯s my answer: it¡¯s the work of a Transient.¡±

    ¡°Not a human? Or a Xeno force?¡±

    ¡°People often say there are nearly six trillion humans. But that number is trivial compared to the autonomous AIs roaming our networks¡ªAIs smarter than the best of us.¡±

    ¡°Even someone exceptionally gifted? Like, say, a Wau?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps an Euler or a da Vinci, working directly with fundamental tools¡ªlines of assembler code, you know. And even then... Humans have created few things beyond their control, but the AI network certainly qualifies.¡±

    Aloysius turned his head briefly to check Proteus, and when he looked back, Cass had disappeared. Curious girl, he thought.

    <hr>

    QUESTION OF THE DAY BY INGO IZAN

    ¡°It¡¯s time for our Question of the Day... Today we welcome Petra, a military communications officer aboard the Alk¨¨, flagship of our stellar fleet, one of those Endymions we see from Prospero¡¯s surface. Petra, among the Big Five¡ªour five major worlds¡ªthere¡¯s a large Entangled Gate allowing travel between worlds. Why isn¡¯t there such a gate on every planet?¡±

    ¡°Simply because it would be prohibitively expensive. Entangled Gates originated as Transient artifacts that we¡¯ve managed to replicate with great difficulty. Imagine that to send an electron through a gate perfectly sized for it, we must engrave a special circuit and power it¡ªa setup costing around 15,000 thalers. It¡¯s extremely useful because an electron is exactly what we need for communication between distant ships or planets. For the past 150 years, communication Entangled Gates have been incorporated into the Drift drives of every ship. That¡¯s why, as a communications officer, I know this technology well.¡±

    ¡°But moving something larger, like a human being, multiplies the cost proportionally, despite economies of scale. For a human, it would cost about two billion thalers. For the gates we have on the Big Five, the cost is incalculable. The last one consumed two years¡¯ worth of Titus¡¯s entire industrial capacity¡ªa planet theoretically capable of producing a starship every two days.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, but why do we have an Entangled Gate on every ship? What are they connected to?¡±

    ¡°They connect directly to the LE central hub. Currently, humanity is colonizing many worlds beyond Ariel¡¯s Gate. Some are economically thriving, but many are tiny hamlets populated by only a handful of people, unable to afford even a basic communication gate. When a ship passes over these worlds, it pairs with their simple wave-based communication terminals, which cost almost nothing, synchronizing their local LEs with the HS¡¯s global LE. The free circulation of our ships keeps us informed and allows us to respond to distant worlds in times of crisis¡ªwhen intervention is still possible.¡±

 Involuntary Spies

    Cass springs forward, slipping into an elevator alongside wealthy tourists seeking thrills. Destination: The Abyss, first basement level. The elevator is pulled by an inertial grapple, speeding madly between floors without the sensation of acceleration. They pass the surface, and through the walls, an infinite mosaic of purple cubes of all sizes flashes by.

    During the descent, Cass feels a bad premonition¡ªan intuition. Normally, Waus don¡¯t experience intuition: they have clear ideas. She hadn¡¯t felt such an intuition gnawing at the back of her neck for years. Yet here it was. What was happening?

    The elevator opens onto a street with a dome-shaped, blasphemous ceiling, lit by immortal neon lights, offering all kinds of services. Human guides and drones swarm the tourists, offering an almost risk-free direct route into the True Abyss. At the entrance, an Empty-Eyes guard stands watch: his psi-brooch and white eyes indicate that using psi power for proxy murders wouldn¡¯t be tolerated. Empty-Eyes are rarely assigned as killer-trackers; this one must be an Alpha or a Beta, Cass thinks as she approaches the Last Bastion, the large, popular nightclub on level minus one.

    The Last Bastion rises over four floors, extending up into the ceiling to accommodate its roof. Spotlights underline its symmetrical structure¡ªa blend of French chateau and military fortress. No entrance control here: anything goes. There¡¯s only one rule, displayed on a black-gold sign: ¡°You¡¯re free to do whatever you want, so are we. Think before messing around. Signed: Management.¡±

    Alcohol, drugs, and all kinds of sexual experiences are freely available. However, the entrance simply leads onto a dance floor that¡¯s already crowded. In the Abyss, there are no hours.

    Cass orders a nebula alcohol, raspberry-flavored, out of habit, appearing natural, and picks up her glass. Turning back toward the smoky atmosphere filled with hookahs and vapors, lasers outlining dancers, loud music, and Xenos, she inventories the humans present. A couple flirts with a Xeno of the Light People, clearly intent on heading upstairs to the fourth floor. A group of wealthy students from Earth is drinking heavily, seeking courage to venture into the True Abyss.

    A small creature with large child-like eyes approaches Cass. It¡¯s silver-colored, almost liquid, with a shifting number of limbs but striving to remain humanoid. In a human dialect full of gurgles, it reaches out a hand, saying: ¡°For a thaler, I¡¯ll predict your future, because I¡¯m a Transient¡¯s child.¡± Cass takes a luminous thaler out of her pocket.

    The ¡°Transient¡¯s child¡± declares in a high voice:

    ¡°Today you¡¯ll meet someone immortal.¡±

    ¡°Your father? Go, Transient¡¯s child, and be careful.¡±

    Xenos don¡¯t lie, except when they do. And when they lie, it¡¯s nearly their only way of communicating.

    Cass resumes scanning the humans. A couple of men are here for a safari. They¡¯re determined not to return to the surface without having killed something¡ªor someone. A corrupt Psi sells his services from a corner. There¡¯s someone interesting: a female collector from Earth, accompanied by a bodyguard. A genuinely evil person disguised as a bourgeois woman with silver hair on holiday. She collects Xeno corpses, having them hunted in the Abyss, embalmed, and exhibited in a mansion in Geneva. A good candidate.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    When Cass needs puppets for dangerous missions, she prefers using disreputable people¡ªit¡¯s a karma thing. With a psychic wave, she makes the bodyguard forget why he¡¯s here and gives him thirst. He walks away. Cass approaches Patricia¡ªthat¡¯s her name¡ªand probes her mind, searching for her intimate life while casually chatting to unlock mental doors. She discovers Patricia¡¯s taste in men: barely eighteen, innocent-looking. Cass clouds Patricia¡¯s mind so that she perceives Cass as this type of young man and hears her words as his. Patricia cracks instantly. She follows Cass into the elevator, which Cass empties of passengers with a wave of psychic energy. Behind them, the Empty-Eyes guard, well-trained though he may be, sees nothing.

    In the elevator, Cass observes Patricia curiously as she swoons, convinced she¡¯s being fondled and kissed by her ideal fantasy. Patricia follows Cass home, then through an Entangled Door, then another, after Cass dons the Armor. They settle in the living space of the Sanctum, with Patricia stretched out on the table, believing herself in a luxury hotel bed, caressed by an Apollo-like figure.

    The armored Wau bends over her body like a puppeteer.

    <hr>

    Let¡¯s move on to the operation.

    We¡¯re going to inject mental boxes into mental boxes, so we¡¯ll start from the end and work backward to the beginning. Let¡¯s be organized and precise. Each box opens, revealing another internal box when the outer box¡¯s condition is fulfilled.

    Innermost box: All this is pointless. I¡¯m ridiculous. I hate being ridiculous. I¡¯ll forget this entire thing so that I can forget that I¡¯m ridiculous.

    Around this box: That¡¯s a lot of information¡­ I¡¯ll ask a private detective what he thinks. No, even better, I¡¯ll ask the Wau Order! After all, they said they could help us. Poor David, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s having a hard time over there on Lennox. Whereas here, the Wau can do anything. I¡¯ll send them everything.

    Around this box: I¡¯ll ask my secretary; this is too much work. I want everything about all Ilsners beginning with a D. If we find nothing, I want to know where their parents, siblings, cousins¡ªeveryone¡ªare. Send it all to me via email.

    Around this box: I miss that young man. What¡¯s he doing right now? He should be with me. I¡¯d make him happy, and he¡¯d make me happy. At night, he gave me his name so I could find him if I wanted. Why didn¡¯t I ask him to stay with me? I¡¯m crazy. What was his name? Ilsner, I think. I don¡¯t need a private detective. I can find him with EV. Ilsner. Dominique? David? Danny?

    Around this box: I¡¯m satisfied. No need for new Xenos to stimulate my excitement. Let¡¯s return to Earth quickly.

    Final outer box, the first she¡¯ll open: I had a wonderful night with a certain young man. When I woke up, I left the hotel and returned downstairs to rejoin my bodyguard at the Last Bastion.

    Then Cass brings her back, madly in love, to the Last Bastion.

    <hr>

    As Cass ascends once more in the elevator, a blue sun visible through the glass penetrates a distant aurora barrier, spreading over a horizon studded with cubes. She wonders about the reality of free will. Throughout these mental-box openings, Patricia would remain intimately convinced of being the captain of her destiny, yet everything was orchestrated by a stranger she wouldn¡¯t recognize if her life depended on it.

    How many around us are like this? And what if we all were, in one way or another?

 The Gates of Empyrea

    Dorian had embarked on this trip to Prospero to feel important. His family seemed to live upon an endless reserve of thalers hidden in a well, and the weight of this fortune crushed him. Yes, he¡¯d accepted their gifts¡ªespecially the magnificent luxury Adventura, with its white and gold hull and varnished Earth wood interior, named Bonne Fortune, for his eighteenth birthday¡ªbut he wanted to breathe, exist, stand out somehow, proving he was nobody¡¯s slave, especially not his family¡¯s.

    On Prospero, he¡¯d meet people. He¡¯d earn other thalers¡ªhis own. Or perhaps he didn¡¯t really know. Truth be told, he¡¯d been terrified of landing manually and had left it to the onboard LE. Quite the adventurer. The control AIs guided him to Sector 14, semi-military, which hardly reassured him: he was accustomed to the stellar gates of grand hotels, where liveried Androids provided impeccable service and discretion. But this too was adventure. He prayed silently that he wouldn¡¯t return home to Miami in tears; he¡¯d never live it down.

    The Adventura¡¯s engine stopped humming. The rear cargo bay opened. Its color certainly stood out, but no citizen of Prospero even glanced up. Adventure, after all, was simple. The door closed behind him. He watched Ravens busy coming and going. The citizens¡ªor the suspended¡ªsweated at drone jobs to earn a few thalers. They¡¯d always been around him, but now he watched as if on safari, even considered doing their work to clear his mind.

    On an impulse, he decided to take a platform to the lower level. He experienced d¨¦j¨¤ vu, seeing an entrance leading toward the astroport¡¯s substructure. Had he dreamt it? Mechanically, he moved toward it, descending unfamiliar, dust-covered metal stairs into a jungle of Kentrochalcum beams thrusting in all directions. He activated a portable drone that buzzed around, casting a little light.

    He knew he should leave, but saw Xenos gathered around a lamp in the distance. His heart raced¡­ but he knew Xenos were only dangerous due to misunderstandings. He gripped the golden Catholic cross around his neck¡ªmeaningless to him until now¡ªand whispered: ¡°Xenos are our brothers.¡±

    And there was that girl¡ªseventeen? Fierce eyes, an oversized astroport technician¡¯s tunic, long uncut hair. Ada, with her two Xenos: Alpha and Kukth. She was wary, but took time to talk. Dorian, his heart heavy at seeing a girl his own age living in poverty, brought her and all her worldly belongings¡ªa half-filled bag¡ªaboard the Bonne Fortune. Her eyes widened at the ship¡¯s splendor, and he spoke, nearly dancing, about Earth¡¯s fjords, the giant sea creatures of Iris, Lennox¡¯s crystal cube plains, the titanic Xeno Ruins of Hume, Lucifer, the mystic Kugelblitz, Titus¡¯s cat gardens, Booz¡¯s Golden Moon, and Escalus¡¯s terrestrial waves. She was so innocent, so ignorant of the Universe¡¯s beauty¡­he felt himself almost falling in love.

    ¡°Where do you want to go?¡± he asked her.

    ¡°If I don¡¯t clock in for work, a Xeno will take my place,¡± she replied miserably.

    He withdrew a thousand thalers from his drone and handed them to her. She frowned suspiciously but pocketed the money.

    ¡°Are you buying me?¡±

    ¡°No. I just don¡¯t want to hear you complain about your job. I¡¯m offering you the universe¡ªwe can go anywhere, do anything,¡± he insisted ambiguously.

    ¡°OK, Dorian. I want to go to the Temple of the Humble Epic of All Life on Orion Prime, in the Francisco system.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty precise. Are you some kind of mystic?¡± he asked, hiding his cross under his tunic. ¡°Why Orion Prime?¡±

    Because they¡¯re in revolution and nobody will blink when I staple your feet to the ground and steal your Adventura, you big moron, she thought. But instead, she replied:

    ¡°That¡¯s where I was born. I¡¯ll introduce you to my parents.¡±

    ¡°Like a fairy tale! I love it,¡± Dorian concluded with a radiant smile. Adventure¡ªthe real deal, he thought.

    The LE provided them with the location of the Temple on Orion Prime: 400 meters from Nadir Dock, though it added that Orion Prime was currently experiencing confrontations between supporters of the League and the HS.

    ¡°These asshole journalists always exaggerate, hoping someone cares about their bullshit,¡± Ada explained. ¡°Relax, you¡¯re with me.¡±

    The Bonne Fortune swiftly departed, drifting toward Francisco-1 within an hour. Pressing her face against the viewport, Ada admired the fractured planet below, swarming with mining ships.

    ¡°You see this, Ada? The universe is magnificent,¡± Dorian commented, as if he owned the planets suspended in the skies.

    The Adventura approached the bloated station, diving toward the closest point on the planet. It requested landing authorization, which never arrived. Yet, the docking gates opened automatically, allowing them to land on a white dock crowded with armed Ravens but devoid of people. A few Xenos and drones carried mysterious cargo, floating eerily. As soon as the Ozy landed and they unclipped their seatbelts, they began to float as well.

    ¡°Everything here is creepy, Ada. You know, there are nicer places for a first trip.¡±

    ¡°Stop being a wimp. You do know your way around zero-G, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Truthfully, he didn¡¯t. Zero-G was fun once for laughs, once for sleeping, and once more for making love and bragging about it afterward. But nothing beat gravity, especially when you enjoyed eating without having your meal floating back out. Yet, this was Ada¡¯s childhood, and along with her Xeno companions, she effortlessly reached the exit, letting Dorian, his long blonde hair floating behind him, cling helplessly to her.

    With precise movements, she reached the corridor leading to the temple. Passing a side passage, they heard shouting. Glancing in, they saw a group of people clinging to the walls of a circular room, with a woman bound in the center.

    ¡°Tribunal of the League of Antioch, fourth day of the revolution. Today we judge Gayla Topaz for having led the HS peacekeeping forces in the Nadir district. For your information, the Wau Order no longer responds to our messages, so we¡¯ll have to deliberate her fate ourselves.¡±

    Dorian whispered feverishly:

    ¡°The League has taken back control of Orion Prime; we need to get out of here!¡±

    ¡°Relax, pal, I¡¯m with the League.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m League. Stay cool.¡±

    She tapped him on the stomach, and he drifted backward due to the lack of gravity. She caught him again.

    ¡°This is the adventure of your life, millionaire.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m HS! Dammit, my parents are the most Earth-centric citizens alive!¡±

    ¡°Then shut up and don¡¯t let the LE identify you.¡±

    And it¡¯ll be a nice break for me.

    With another push, they ascended toward the temple district, largely composed of a triple-domed structure¡ªChristian, Muslim, and Jewish¡ªeach filled with worshipers fervently praying for peace. Nearby, a large temple belonging to the Dominion roared with victorious shouts. Distant explosions and the sounds of fighting occasionally startled the worshipers, sending them back into even deeper prayer.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Dorian was nearly catatonic, clutching Ada¡¯s oversized tunic like it was life itself. With one push against a wall, she approached a dwelling made of stretched fabric painted with red glyphs.

    This was indeed the Temple of the Humble Epic of All Life. Unique books of paper or wood hung like animals, attached by small chains to the floor and walls. At the center floated a large translucent sphere filled with amber liquid, containing a creature resembling a large black tadpole, its body covered in phosphorescent green eyes.

    ¡°Um... go ahead, Ada.¡±

    ¡°Is that your father?¡± asked Dorian stupidly.

    ¡°Wait. I¡¯m Ada, and I come from...¡±

    It was so long ago...

    A mechanical voice, alive yet emotional, resonated from within the sphere:

    ¡°By the Armor, the Pilgrim, and the Messenger¡­ you¡¯ve come on behalf of Great Serpent of Calchas-3. We were expecting you!¡±

    ¡°Wow, how do you know?¡±

    ¡°Oh, there are very few of us in the vast universe, and currently we have no human followers. We were all very excited about welcoming you as our disciple. I am Spectre. My people originate from a distant place, a rocky planet devoid of life except a submerged subterranean cave where we emerged and evolved¡ªbuilt upon the ruins of a civilization extinct long before our arrival. Call us the Few. And as for this beautiful suit, wandering AIs from a species advanced like yours but transcended provided it to us. Good shepherds. Tak-tak from Prospero will be disappointed; he was awaiting you. Why did you come here?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Tak-tak? Oh... the temple on Prospero. It was on the other side of the continent. This was simpler. So, you communicate among yourselves?¡±

    ¡°Nothing extraordinary, thanks to the technological power of the Human Society, which generously provides us asylum. (turning to Dorian) And you, would you also like to join our Order?¡±

    ¡°Not really, I¡¯m just accompanying her,¡± Dorian hesitated, nervously glancing behind him as fighting noises erupted outside the temple. He whispered breathlessly, ¡°Unless it gives me some kind of immunity?¡±

    Ada put a finger on her lips and gave him a stern look. Dorian thought either they¡¯d make it through, and he¡¯d have to marry her, or something terrible would happen¡ªand he would find and kill her.

    ¡°Spectre, I¡¯m Ada. I want to learn the stellar language.¡±

    The small tadpole seemed to bow. Surprisingly, Alpha floated forward, making a gesture like bringing his thin stick-insect hand to his chest.

    ¡°Alpha, as your friend has named you, you are welcome home, Grand Master.¡±

    ¡°What, he¡¯s a Grand Master? What does that mean? I don¡¯t understand...¡±

    Alpha turned toward Ada, expressionless as ever.

    ¡°He tells many stories,¡± said Spectre, ¡°but you¡¯re not equipped to hear them. Yes, Alpha is one of our Grand Masters. He has been for centuries.¡±

    ¡°Centuries...? Does he speak the stellar language?¡±

    ¡°He reads it, yes. He¡¯s even written numerous works.¡±

    ¡°About what? Alpha? You can talk?¡±

    Alpha regarded Ada silently and impassively. Spectre muttered an incomprehensible word.

    ¡°This is the name of the planet that holds the Grand Master¡¯s work: a long poem composed over many years, describing the Blind Gods¡¯ long journey through the tiniest dust mote on a sunless planet.¡±

    ¡°What planet is this?¡±

    ¡°It lies outside the HS territories.¡±

    ¡°Alpha, we¡¯ll have to talk about this. But first, I want to learn the stellar language.¡±

    ¡°So be it. Having completed your first pilgrimage, Ada, I have the great honor of naming you an Adept of the Humble Epic of All Life. To learn the stellar language, you must undertake your First Epic. Go to a world, any world. Step beyond roads and paths. Find a place distant from any civilization, human or Xeno. There, look around you and find the humblest life form you can¡ªa blade of grass, a young insect, a living crystal¡ªand write the Epic of its life, from beginning to end. Witness it. Write everything, omitting nothing, listening to your heart. Then return to me, and I shall teach you the stellar language. You will be a full member of our order.¡±

    ¡°Wait! I absolutely don¡¯t have time for this!¡±

    Nor the desire, she thought but didn¡¯t add aloud. Another explosion boomed, closer now, and Spectre calmly replied:

    ¡°Time itself is an essential component of this pilgrimage.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a scam! I was told I¡¯d learn the stellar language here!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand your rush. I think you don¡¯t realize who we are.¡±

    ¡°I have¡­ some words¡­ in stellar language¡­ that I must translate.¡±

    ¡°In a book? Do you have it with you?¡±

    Ada spotted a 3D marker on a table¡ªa zero-G pen leaving words floating mid-air. She carefully drew glyphs she¡¯d memorized, endlessly reread in her copy of The Legend of the Ages saved from Clelia.

    Spectre rotated, facing the symbols.

    ¡°Who showed you these words?¡± Spectre asked.

    ¡°I saw them in a place. Then that place disappeared. So now, they¡¯re just¡­ in my head.¡±

    Spectre floated thoughtfully. Dorian nervously glanced outside. They had to leave NOW, a voice screamed in his head.

    Finally, Spectre spoke with surprising human solemnity:

    ¡°Ada, whether you saw these words somewhere or they appeared in a dream, know you are blessed. You¡¯ve been chosen by the Blind Gods. You¡¯ve seen what millions dream of, the thing millions fight and die over. Even I doubted, but now you¡¯ve confirmed the Great Secret is true. You have given us hope. I name you Ada, Witness of the Great Secret. Thus speaks Spectre, priest of the Humble Epic of All Life.¡±

    ¡°What do these words mean?¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s the translation,¡± Spectre wrote clearly beneath the glyphs:

    AT THE TOP OF THE INVERTED TOWER, THE PILGRIM PASSES THE FORM OF?THE THREE AND OPENS FOR THE ENDLESSLY WAITING TRAVELERS THE GATES OF EMPYREA

    ¡°The Gates of Empyrea?¡± Dorian asked.

    ¡°The gates toward transcendence of the transcended,¡± Spectre affirmed. ¡°Toward the Blind Gods, or even the gods of the Blind Gods. The ultimate end of all. Some saw the message, but the ignorant didn¡¯t believe. Even I doubted. Praise the Blind Gods for bringing you here.¡±

    ¡°And the Travelers¡ªare they the ones traveling through time?¡±

    ¡°Ada, where did you learn all this Xeno religious stuff?¡± exclaimed Dorian, captivated by Spectre¡¯s mystical tone. ¡°I thought you were just some tramp.¡±

    She was about to reply, ¡°Ah, you¡¯re annoying!¡± when a squad of League soldiers tore through the temple¡¯s fabric walls and forced their way inside. There were eight of them, each holding a grappling hook in one hand and a thermal rifle in the other. Their faces were hidden behind black visors.

    ¡°Identify yourselves!¡± shouted the first.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt her! She¡¯s a saint!¡± Spectre implored, trying to intervene.

    The squad leader knocked the sphere aside with a blow from his rifle stock. Ada raised her voice confidently:

    ¡°Everyone calm down. I¡¯m Ada, from Shareplace 9 on Caliban-1.¡±

    After a silence, the young leader, consulting a pocket LE, lifted his visor, his eyes widening in astonishment.

    ¡°Holy shit. A survivor. She¡¯s the real deal, guys¡ªa true League member. We¡¯re just partisans. Ada, we... damn it, we need you. We need someone from the League to motivate the troops.¡±

    He grabbed her arm, and she squeezed back firmly.

    ¡°Call me Gorylkin,¡± she said seriously.

    They all burst out laughing, without malice. Dorian thought he was losing his mind. The squad leader still held Ada¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Mind triumphs over force, Gorylkin. Is that angel-like Adventura yours, down there?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ll have to help me override its security.¡±

    ¡°Why override the security?¡± protested Dorian, still not understanding.

    ¡°Oh, and as for the pretty boy behind you, he¡¯s from the HS. Capture him and take care of him. His family will pay millions of thalers for his release¡ªenough to fund our war effort.¡±

    Her voice grew louder, finally unleashing eight years of pent-up hatred.

    ¡°Orion Prime will fall for every Shareplace they¡¯ve taken from us. Find me a MAR, and I¡¯ll hand you the station.¡±

    As they dragged Dorian away, sobbing with rage and fear, she didn¡¯t even glance at him. He ceased to exist, this rich fool from the HS.

    And though Gorylkin was already imagining her next battle, Ada¡¯s eyes were fixed solely on the Gates of Empyrea.

    <hr>

    TODAY¡¯S QUESTION WITH INGO IZAN

    ¡°For today¡¯s question, we¡¯re joined by Mildred Yonis, who is... sorry, remind me exactly what your position is? I wouldn¡¯t want to make a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Delegate for Xeno affairs at the HS Council.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. The ideal person. So, today¡¯s question is: After all the time we¡¯ve spent interacting with Xenos, why haven¡¯t we created a grand Human-Xeno federation? Why are there no political partnerships or collaborations? Could we actually be racists?¡±

    ¡°Most Xenos we encounter on human worlds are already quite close to humanity. Dialogue is possible. But they represent only a tiny fraction of all civilizations in the universe. In most cases, the word ¡®collaboration¡¯ has no meaning whatsoever. In fact, there is such a cultural abyss between us and them that any relationship puts both sides at risk. At the ministry, we have a story illustrating this situation¡ªwe call it ¡®the meal metaphor.¡¯ A Xeno and a human, friends, find themselves together one evening in a house, unsure of what to do. The human suggests having dinner. Then the Xeno eats him. This isn¡¯t fictional; in many Xeno cultures, eating someone is an honor, or a profound act of love. But it can work both ways: Xenos are often completely defenseless against deception. Human colonists have often exploited Xenos as lifelong slaves while the Xenos believed they were simply helping, forcing us to implement extensive legislative and policing measures to prevent these abuses. After numerous¡ªadmittedly tragic¡ªattempts, the HS official position is simply: we don¡¯t dine with Xenos.¡±

    ¡°So, Human-Xeno friendship is just a fantasy?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worse. Put a human alone on a deserted island with a real Xeno from the farthest reaches of the universe. Within two days, faced with absolute miscommunication and mutual incomprehension¡ªcausing frustration and fear in the human, and emotions completely alien to us in the Xeno¡ªone will kill the other. I¡¯m afraid humanity will need millennia of maturity to overcome this wall of misunderstanding. By then, humanity itself will have become so different it will be incomprehensible to people like you and me.¡±

 Defeats

    The Wau arrives at the Sanctum with a thrilling agenda. Once again, emotions resurface, despite the Armors¡¯ AIs¡¯ pressure. That¡¯s a good sign.

    In the cosmic void surrounding the non-void, isolated from the Transients by a distance as vast as technology allows, he reopens the secret files: David Ilsner, Caliban, Babel.

    The Starfleet, consumed by a very human madness, had launched an assault on a League colony ship in the Caliban system. The Wau seized this opportunity to move up the interstellar frontline and separate the attackers. When his Halcyon appeared on the radars, the Tygers (heavily armed Ravens used by the fleet) scattered. A pre-programmed Exocet missile advanced into the heart of the frontline, orbited Caliban-1, then returned.

    The Wau suspected this Exocet had a secret mission, which he now understood, having safeguarded his earlier thoughts in a mental box.

    The specific EV of the Sanctum, autonomous and filtering, notifies him that three files require his attention: message from Patricia, Patricia¡¯s status, and insurrection on Orion Prime. Orion Prime, thinks the Wau. The war tribunal. They must have sent a very convincing alert message for the LE to bring it up, he thinks.

    First, the Exocet.

    In the meditation chamber, facing the glass bay overlooking nothingness, the Wau unfolds the data. Caliban appears, round and white on a black background. The Wau¡¯s transhuman gaze spots the League¡¯s small orbital stations.

    Caliban-1 is completely covered by clouds, including at the poles. It could be mistaken for a gas dwarf, if such a concept existed, but the cyclones and hurricanes are clearly visible, along with gentler, white clouds rich in oxygen and water. This planet might sustain human life. But from this photo alone, no land or ocean is visible.

    The Wau switches filters, moving through electromagnetic, ultraviolet, infrared, albedo spectrums¡­and the image turns black. As if there were nothing there. From these readings, one might think Caliban-1 is an illusion, yet it clearly has mass, as evidenced by orbiting stations. Another filter, the so-called entropic filter, based on ¡°entropic waves,¡± a poorly understood concept inherited from the Transients, is also applied. Entropic waves ¡°tell the story¡± of actions occurring in a place and propagate in all directions at the speed of light. Entropic waves cannot be masked and are used in high-stakes criminal investigations.

    Yet this filter also returns blackness. The Wau concludes there is a device associated with the planet that negates its entropic presence. Intuitively, this device must possess technology equal to or exceeding that of the Transients. Entropy being deeply related to information, this naturally explains its absence in the LEs.

    One mystery solved, another, even larger, opens up.

    This deserves considerable reflection. The Wau is emotionless, yet he notes with reasoned bitterness that the game might be definitively too difficult for him. He sees, like distant storm clouds, technological walls rising against him.

    The Wau opens Patricia¡¯s file. She sent a summary of her meta-search on all the Ilsners. The data is considerable, and he jumps directly to the section on David Ilsner.

    All responses are terse and identical: I¡¯m sorry, but I have no information on this subject.

    Failure, again. Unless David Ilsner had obtained the device that cancels entropic fields?

    The Wau checks the second alert concerning Patricia. She appears in recent death notices from Geneva. An abnormal cardiac failure, with a huge insurance cartel launching an investigation. She was unable to transfer herself into the After. The incident gradually transforms from a news item into a criminal case, then into an extrahuman matter, with the discovery of her macabre museum of desecrated Xenos.

    The Transients eliminated her. And it¡¯s the Wau¡¯s fault.

    Next case. Revolt on Orion Prime. The LE has compiled billions of camera data points. Surprisingly, the League of Antioch, despite being heavily outnumbered, has entirely captured Francisco-1 station, aided by a significant figure: Gorylkin, whom some call the Saint of the Xenos. A rebellion funded without regard for cost by an ultra-rich Earth family because... of course. Dorian. Once again, the Wau¡¯s fault.

    Overwhelmed by his analytical AIs, the Wau feels nothing but acknowledges his triple failure. He closes everything and rests his golden visor against the bay of emptiness. Is there an edge from which to rebound, or is everything lost?

    He recalls the strange intuition felt while diving into the abyss. What his brain couldn¡¯t clearly label, the AIs find by bridging unconscious to unconscious.

    A memory. At the UniNox. The polished wooden hallway. On a wall. A dusty excellence award. His eye saw it fleetingly for a split second, but the AI extracts a clear image, refining it until legible.

    Award of Excellence from Universities in Xeno Linguistics Awarded to David Ilsner by the Human-Xeno Council of Paris Sorbonne

    Not only failures today, then.

    The Wau notes David Ilsner¡¯s name on a folded paper, then forgets it in a mental box. He returns to the star fortress, removes the Armor, and returns to Lennox. Cass runs with great strides as if she were an untiring robot, arriving at UniNox without even being breathless.

    Annoyed by wasting time and by failures, she expands her psychic perception and locates Aloysius in an AI laboratory.

    There he is, surrounded by smooth white AI terminals, state-of-the-art, like a 4th-millennium Stonehenge. He¡¯s leaning over another terminal, this one pierced with electrodes as if examining a biological brain. Inside the terminal, no informatics, but a strange silver liquid substance.

    Cass draws his attention with a ¡°hello,¡± sustained by a forced smile. He rises slowly like an old man, placing his working glasses onto his chest.

    ¡°Hi Cass. I¡¯m working with my AI¡­colleagues on an experimental model adapted to Lennox crystallization. (Seeing no reaction, he adds) For the Afters. The cubes. Cass? Are you with me?¡± ¡°Fascinating,¡± comments Cass, who couldn¡¯t care less and hands him a folded paper.

    With a vocal command, she shuts off all connected AIs in the room, including portable LEs.

    She violently breaks through his psychic defenses with a technique called ¡°door forcing,¡± momentarily forcing open his mind. Within that brief instant, she gives him instructions: ¡°Samuel Aloysius, take this paper, read it. Tell me if you know the person named inside somewhat, well, very well, or perfectly, without saying their name. Then fold it back and give it to me. Ask the AIs to reconnect. Forget everything from when I ordered the AIs to shut down.¡±

    The old scholar reads the paper, laughs slightly, ¡°Oh yes, I know him rather well,¡± folds the paper, returns it.

    ¡°The AIs disconnected. Give me a second, Cass. What happened? A solar flare? Anyway, tell me why you came. Let me guess, a question about the Transients? Sometimes I try to find something interesting to tell you about it, but I feel like I¡¯ve told you everything already. Maybe someday you won¡¯t suddenly run from our conversations and can tell me more about your projects, which seem fascinating.¡± ¡°Precisely. I¡¯d like to invite you to dinner, Sam. To thank you for our past exchanges.¡± ¡°An old wreck like me with a lovely woman like you? (The AIs reconnect pleasantly.) If I¡¯d known my studies on freedom would open such opportunities, I¡¯d have been more persistent. So, see you tonight?¡±

    Cass glanced at the wall clock, which displayed decimal numbers. It was morning on Lennox. She definitively forced through Aloysius¡¯s psychic barriers¡ªthin and rigid¡ªand erased all traces of this psychic violation.

    ¡°Your research is absorbing you, Sam. The sun has just set.¡±

    The professor checked his watch. Indeed, it was evening. In the corridor, the sun¡¯s bluish glow was already shifting to violet. His stomach rumbled. He took off his lab coat, put on a Lennox parka decorated with sewn-on anarchist badges, and apologized.

    They descended to Cass¡¯s apartment, crossed the entangled door, Cass donned the Armor, and they found themselves in the Sanctum¡¯s living quarters.

    To Sam, however, their time had been pleasantly filled by wandering conversations about the mysterious streets of the vertical city, culminating in Cass introducing him to an unfamiliar yet upscale restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner. Initially intimidated, Sam was quickly put at ease¡ªCass had left a long coat at the reception (had she had this coat before? He must have been distracted). He now found himself seated across from this mysterious, obviously wealthy student, scanning a menu filled with poetic and appetizing names.

    Outside his hallucination, he sat opposite a two-and-a-half-meter-tall Wau, perched upon an austere bench far too high for him, facing a nutrition bar and an opaque glass filled with synthesized water derived from the hydrogen of dying stars. The place was comfortable, yet the furniture oversized and overly dark. They were at a distance exceeding that of the most distant photons ever emitted by a star.

    The Wau went straight to the point. He needed Aloysius to clearly formulate his thoughts so he could simply verify that they were perfectly expressed, describing the subjective yet sincere truth of his knowledge.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to discuss David Ilsner.¡±

    ¡°David Ilsner¡­ now there¡¯s a name from a distant past.¡±

    ¡°Did you know him?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I worked with him occasionally. But... I¡¯m curious, how do you know him?¡±

    ¡°A family friend. My mother studied linguistics extensively, and she spoke about him.¡±

    The Wau felt an indefinable amusement within Aloysius¡¯s psyche.

    ¡°Are you David Ilsner¡¯s daughter?¡±

    ¡°No? Was he a seducer?¡±

    ¡°Can we call the waiter?¡±

    The Wau conjured a waiter in Aloysius¡¯s mind. He bowed before the professor, who declared incredulously:

    ¡°Your sea urchins are from Earth? How is that possible?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, sir,¡± replied the waiter obsequiously, in a scholarly Earth accent. ¡°They were harvested the day before the Drift and stored in Raven-aquariums.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terribly expensive, but may I, Cass?¡±

    ¡°You may. I¡¯ll have sole. Thank you.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The waiter bowed and disappeared from Aloysius¡¯s mind.

    ¡°Thank you for this invitation, Cass. My feeling is it will be expensive, but then again, you could well be the daughter of the President of the HS for all I know. Since this dinner is a thank-you for our previous exchanges, and since you want to know everything about that rascal David, I¡¯ll ask you one question in return, and you must answer truthfully. Agreed?¡±

    ¡°Agreed. So, David was a seducer?¡±

    ¡°David Ilsner was an arrogant genius whom one could only adore or hate. He was brilliant in the sense that he took unexplored paths, found original solutions, appeared to be doing nonsense¡ªand yet, damn, it worked. It always worked. The University, particularly UniNox, aims to produce post-transient humans of a New Renaissance, capable of anything. That¡¯s exactly what David was. My motivation is the preservation of Lennox¡¯s Afters, and I dedicate myself fully to it. But David¡ªhis attention wandered to any subject, absorbed everything, and always made a contribution. Additionally, he never followed the traditional academic path: no diploma, no thesis, no papers... He worked from hotel rooms, preferably with one or two women in his bed.¡±

    ¡°Was he a Transient?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that obsession again¡­ no. He was a human with all-too-human flaws. And we hated him for that: he arrived without a degree, unknown to academic circles, yet he was smarter than anyone¡ªsmarter than you. He¡¯d take your research subject, fold it in two, and suddenly it would appear in a new light, neatly solving your problem. He¡¯d leave you to write the thesis¡ª¡®now that it¡¯s done,¡¯ as he¡¯d say. ¡®It was so easy, old friend.¡¯ Then, of course, he¡¯d brag in front of journalists, making you feel stupid¡ªand to top it off, he¡¯d sleep with your wife.¡±

    ¡°Speaking from experience?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I had two wives back then, one married to two men simultaneously, and he slept with both wives and the husband.¡±

    ¡°Did it hurt?¡±

    ¡°Jealousy is a medieval emotion no one buys anymore, not even in fiction. It mostly freed up my time for research. David, even through his sexual life, was a blessing for science.¡±

    ¡°You mentioned journalists. I found no articles.¡±

    ¡°Are you a detective?¡±

    ¡°Who knows?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Cassandre¡¯s famous ¡®who knows?¡¯ You haven¡¯t looked hard enough.¡±

    ¡°There are no articles about him, I guarantee you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, hence your question about altered LE entries... I see where you¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on. Did he work on every topic? It seems linguistics was his strong suit.¡±

    ¡°Was. He¡¯s dead... in case you wondered.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be surprised otherwise... although the universe is full of surprises.¡±

    ¡°Noted. Linguistics, then?¡±

    ¡°Not exclusively. His work on Veritatis provided the foundation for everything built since. But yes. He became interested in what¡¯s called generative grammar. Familiar?¡±

    ¡°Enlighten me.¡±

    ¡°Before the 2100s, there were many dialects in the SH. Dead languages, like English and Chinese¡ªheard of those? Certain studies noticed that these languages, despite differences, had evolved from some fundamental original languages¡ªsimilar to how all living beings descended from one common ancestor, a single cell in the ocean billions of years ago. Generative grammar is a linguistic theory that proposes languages share fundamental grammatical structures. For instance, ¡®the apple is red.¡¯ You associate a quality with an object. Such structures¡ªpredicates¡ªappear everywhere. When we encountered Xenos, who have thousands of civilizations, each with dialects deeply connected to their cultures, we studied their languages primarily to understand them¡ªsometimes nobly, sometimes darkly. But David pondered a generative grammar for Xenos.¡±

    ¡°For which civilization?¡±

    ¡°For all civilizations, including humanity. A universal generative grammar.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Do you want the official reason or what David confided to me while getting dressed in my living room? Don¡¯t answer¡ªboth, obviously. Officially, he found an unknown language on a kind of cave painting or Xeno carving on some deserted world... afterward, he traveled one or two years among purely Xeno worlds for research. He returned with nothing¡ªexcept this lunatic notion of a Xeno proto-language. He turned out to be right, of course. Privately, I know he had fallen for a woman at the time, and the trip was more honeymoon than fieldwork.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t give me the unofficial reason.¡±

    ¡°He saw it in a dream.¡±

    ¡°The proto-language?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    ¡°That all sentient species, even billions of light-years apart, who never have and never will meet, share languages derived from a proto-language, with scattered traces everywhere? Yes, that¡¯s a huge issue¡ªone beyond our grasp. We may never find the solution since it¡¯s not physically distant, but temporally so. Still, if we can¡¯t see the mountaintop, we can imagine it.¡±

    In his psyche, Samuel carefully removed the violet-red flesh of a sea urchin with its iodized aroma, accompanied by a thick rust-colored cream. In reality, he nibbled a nutrient bar. Finishing his last bite, he asked:

    ¡°Strange restaurant. You come often?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You know, that street where you brought me... I know it well. I¡¯ve never seen this restaurant.¡±

    ¡°Certain?¡±

    ¡°Certain,¡± he said, smiling and playing along. ¡°Let¡¯s continue. Except for mythical creatures, like the Travelers from the Xeno religion of Those-Who-Wait, we move straight towards the future. Causes precede effects. The center of a circle is always the innermost point farthest from its edge. Mathematics exists beyond our perception and culture. Abstract elements¡ªyet these are tools advanced civilizations use to interact with reality.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all children of the Blind Gods.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re at the beginning and end of time, outside the universe and within all things, in the infinitely large and infinitely small. It¡¯s a ritual prayer, but one day, I feel it will simply be reality.¡±

    ¡°And thus, universal generative grammar was theorized.¡±

    ¡°Allow me a brief digression. Among humans, the division of languages is associated with the myth of the Tower of Babel. Could we be dealing here with an inverted Babel?¡±

    ¡°You claim not to know David, yet you use a very particular term linked to his story. Are you hiding things from me, Cass? Important things, I mean.¡±

    The Wau glanced around. The answer was sadly ironic.

    ¡°The truth is that I know the term ¡®inverted Babel¡¯ relates to certain things connected to David.¡±

    ¡°Alright. David Ilsner conducted extensive research worldwide, notably among Xeno civilizations. He found himself on a planet named Caliban-1. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of it¡ªit¡¯s located on the frontline of the conflict between the Antioch League and the SH.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it,¡± replied the Wau, feeling like a predator slowly closing in on its prey.

    ¡°A rather inhospitable place. I¡¯ll spare you the details but¡­¡±

    ¡°No, please, tell me the details. You¡¯ll earn two desserts.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll skip them anyway¡ªmy memory is faltering. Caliban has 12% oxygen, no toxins, tolerable with the right vaccines. He likely had some tough times there, but he clearly discovered something significant. Then he disappeared. But before vanishing forever, David sent a series of messages. Messages curiously distorted by anomalies, though we managed to reconstruct parts of them. He¡¯d found something he termed an ¡®Inverted Babel,¡¯ along with a dead Xeno language from an unknown civilization. You know isotopic excitation can determine a structure¡¯s age, right? David made readings. Just guess¡ªhow old would you say the structure was?¡±

    ¡°One million years?¡±

    ¡°Older.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, three billion years?¡±

    ¡°Date of life emerging on Earth. Even older.¡±

    ¡°Five billion years? The formation of planets.¡±

    ¡°Even older. The structure predated the very first planet.¡±

    ¡°Fifteen billion years?¡±

    ¡°The Big Bang. It¡¯d be truly bizarre if this Xeno city existed before that date, wouldn¡¯t it? And yet¡ªit did. The ruins were even older.¡±

    ¡°Sam¡­ time didn¡¯t exist at the Big Bang.¡±

    ¡°Excellent point. So how to explain the dating, assuming it wasn¡¯t an anomaly? Come on, show me the breadth of your imagination!¡±

    ¡°Did it originate from another universe?¡±

    ¡°Good guess, but incorrect. The dating indicated infinite age because the structure wasn¡¯t built in the past but rather in the future, by beings traveling backward through time.¡±

    ¡°So the Travelers of the Xeno religion exist?¡±

    ¡°Apparently so.¡±

    ¡°Then why does the HS never speak about them?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll get there.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªdo you realize what you¡¯re saying? Travelers, Caliban-1, generative grammar¡­ I feel like I¡¯ve just discovered Atlantis or those Transient ruins on Mars that gave us the Drift. Why hide all this?¡±

    ¡°But I haven¡¯t hidden anything, dear. As the poet said, there are more mysteries on Earth and in Heaven than are dreamt of in philosophy. The Caliban-1 case is intriguing, but what about the Dark Galaxies? What of Tybalt, the fractal-dimension planet? What about encrypted messages we receive from within suns beyond the Magellanic Cloud? Or dark matter, suspiciously clustered in places unreachable by the Drift? Or the Owls, the Xenos of Booz, who claim to receive messages from Transients living in a parallel universe, who say the multiverse is part of the Blind Gods? Or the New Horizon expedition, where a Xeno-human ship ventured into the infinitely small using Transient tech and returned two years later, crew missing? Or Kugelblitz Lucifer, worshipped by followers of the Emprise, psychically transmitting advanced technological schematics across distances challenging our technologies? Compared to these mysteries, Caliban-1 barely deserves a conspiracy tabloid footnote.¡±

    ¡°Fine, back to David Ilsner. He sends messages.¡±

    ¡°Yes, one big message partially transmitted to us. And now we reach the moment where I¡¯ll have your full attention. You¡¯ll love this.¡±

    He paused deliberately. The Wau concentrated with full intensity.

    ¡°The message arrived. And the Transients got agitated¡ªrather, they vanished briefly. For a few hours, they disappeared. You know there are always two Transients sitting on the SH Council? They vanished for those few hours. Same for the permanent judge of the court on Calchas-3. When they returned, Caliban-1 began becoming elusive¡ªimpossible to analyze. Everything related to that planet started vanishing.¡±

    ¡°LE entries.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d said that sooner, we¡¯d have saved time.¡±

    ¡°The work of Transients?¡±

    ¡°Possibly.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this wall separating us from Caliban-1?¡±

    ¡°Entropy is a physical concept from thermodynamics, helping us quantify disorder. Entropy generally increases¡ªchaos grows. For instance, if you tidy something messy, your effort creates more disorder overall¡ªimagine yourself sweating after cleaning a room. Yet science and universal anomalies taught us everything has an opposite: matter and antimatter, negative-mass objects. Today we know entropy spreads from one system to another, perhaps via waves, a particle called the chaos boson, or both¡ªwe don¡¯t fully understand yet. Some scientists hypothesize Caliban-1 contains a machine emitting anti-entropy. Thus, Caliban-1 absorbs information and disorder instead of emitting it.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s in your mind, and now mine.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, like most forces, it weakens with distance squared¡ªand we both have strong minds. Still, you¡¯ll notice it requires extra effort to think clearly on the topic. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t immediately connect Caliban-1, your Transient obsession, and the LEs.¡±

    ¡°So David Ilsner found something on Caliban-1, and the Transients intervened. Rather than destroying the planet, they installed an anti-entropy device, causing the discovery to fade over time. What exactly was the message?¡±

    ¡°It spoke about dating the inverted Babel. It also contained a linguistic guide for the Stellar language, found abundantly on-site¡ªa written-only language, convenient since many Xenos lack vocal organs.¡±

    ¡°This language learned only through obscure Xeno religions?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s anecdotal for us because Caliban-1 is in human space, radiating anti-entropy, explaining our lack of interest. But for David¡¯s Xeno friends, it was an electric shock. You see, it has grammatical traits of a unified interspecies language. Because that language is precisely the proto-language. All religions use it: the Emprise dreaming of unity under one leader, the Unity Cult seeing it as spiritual fulfillment, the Humble Epic of all life, and of course Those-Who-Wait. Stellar language spread faster than starlight, becoming the galactic lingua franca¡ªexcept for humans, paradoxically its discoverers.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªI lost track. The Stellar language has been used by Xenos for centuries.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. David Ilsner made this discovery before vanishing forever, in 2498¡ªmore than 300 years ago.¡±

    ¡°But you said you worked with him.¡±

    ¡°And you said your mother knew him. You lied. I¡¯ll skip dessert since I doubt we¡¯re even in a restaurant. We had an agreement. My turn for a question, Cassandre, if that¡¯s even your name. Who are you? A Xeno? A wandering AI? A Transient exile?¡±

    ¡°I still have questions.¡±

    ¡°Answer this one first.¡±

    ¡°I know you like me, so I¡¯ll answer honestly. But if I give you this answer, I must vanish from your life. You¡¯ll have the memory of me and my response, but you¡¯ll never see me again. Do you want the answer?¡±

    ¡°My dear Cass, I value truth above friendship, though I¡¯ll miss you. Tell me.¡±

    ¡°I belong to the Wau Order.¡±

    Samuel leaned back, as if the revelation weighed heavily. He probably blamed himself for not guessing.

    ¡°Those tall figures in armor?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m wearing the Armor right now.¡±

    ¡°And where are we?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll never know that, and if you ever did, I¡¯d erase your memory.¡±

    ¡°Very well. You¡¯ve honored our agreement, and my curiosity is satisfied.¡±

    ¡°Were you alive in 2498?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, and quite old even then. During a seminar on Earth, I met a Transient and asked for eternal life, which he somehow granted with a mere sigh.¡±

    As Samuel mused aloud about postponing his transfer into the After¡ªa sterile place, he believed¡ªCass inwardly collapsed.

    Aloysius carries the Transient mark. He¡¯s been altered by a Transient. He probably has some genetic tracker that already revealed the Sanctum¡¯s location. I¡¯ve ruined a millennium¡¯s effort in minutes. It¡¯s over. I no longer deserve the Armor.

    ¡°You¡¯ve gone quiet, Wau.¡±

    ¡°Your revelations aren¡¯t exactly great news for my mission.¡±

    They both rose, and without removing the Armor or lifting the illusion, the Wau escorted Aloysius back to UniNox. It was midday when the Wau dissolved the illusion. The old man startled under the blue star¡¯s brilliance, then looked up, staring at the metal giant.

    Curious bystanders snapped photos.

    ¡°Farewell, Sam. It¡¯s been a pleasure knowing you.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t despair, Cass. One last detail¡ªDavid knew a thousand women but had a soulmate named Julia Prahi. She was famous then. She probably knows more. Everyone knows David sent her a private message from Caliban-1. She worked for some political figure or government¡­ I forgot.¡±

    The Wau said nothing, mentally absent. Samuel quickly added:

    ¡°Yes, Julia is probably dead too, but she¡¯s in the After. They say no one returns from the After¡ªbut you¡¯re a Wau, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The Wau nodded. Turning on his heels and walking through the UniNox gardens, he responded silently to himself:

    Not for much longer.

 The Wau Council

    For the first time in his life, the Wau had requested to convene the Council of the Order.

    It was within his power; he could have done so at any time but had respected the presumably busy schedules of his peers who, just like him, watched over a small part of the countless problems within Human Society and its emanations. He had only seen his counterparts once before, at his induction¡ªa lengthy, rather technical meeting explaining the capabilities of his provisions (the Armor, the Dark Unit, the Sanctum, transhuman injections) and the philosophy of the Order: safeguarding Humanity¡¯s welfare.

    At the end of the hallway in his section of the Sanctum, a door opened onto a seat designed specifically for him and a large, semicircular room. In holographic projections, his brothers appeared one by one, too numerous to all be displayed at once (those highlighted were the ones whose heads moved slightly, detected by the AIs).

    Within less than two minutes, the first had already appeared. After seventeen minutes, the average time it took a Wau to reach the most distant points of the HS, the Council announced that everyone was present.

    The Wau wondered if he could have made it in less than seventeen minutes himself. Probably not in every situation. They are stronger and more deserving than me. I am a disappointment. On the screens, they all looked identical.

    One of them spoke: ¡°Dear brother, we have responded to your summons.¡±

    The Wau described his recent failures and the possibility that the Transients might now know the location of the Sanctum. He concluded his report with these words:

    ¡°I no longer feel worthy of wearing the Armor. I propose that you exclude me from the Order of the Wau.¡±

    A heavy silence followed, then another¡ªor perhaps it was the same one¡ªspoke in an ancient, possibly feminine voice:

    ¡°We have no means to exclude one of our brothers. This is not provided for in our Order.¡±

    ¡°To be more precise, we are experiencing a normal situation,¡± added another voice, quicker, less noble in phrasing.

    ¡°Once the Armor is bestowed, it cannot be reclaimed,¡± declared a third voice, female again, deep and serious. ¡°That is the way it is.¡±

    ¡°Brother, you repeatedly used the word ¡®failure.¡¯ It requires more than a man and more than a god to judge a failure. What you perceive as failure,¡± continued the one with quick phrasing, ¡°may not actually be one. There is no complete failure. The selection process of the Order is so rigorous that most successful candidates have never experienced failure, and considerable time passes before any form of failure emerges. Experiencing failure is formative and necessary. We consider it essential. There are no hierarchical ranks in our Order, but we have something we call the Compass.¡±

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    ¡°The Compass? I¡¯ve never heard of it,¡± admitted the Wau.

    ¡°We speak of the Compass only to those who discover it. The Compass guides us in our mission,¡± explained an older voice, belonging to a brother hidden behind the others. ¡°It consists of six cardinal points, revealed only when experienced. The South represents failure. Other points will be revealed to you as you experience them.¡±

    ¡°Wait, have you all completed the entire Compass?¡±

    ¡°No. Some die before achieving it. No one has ever fully completed the Compass¡ªthat is not its purpose.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve just mentioned the South in front of everyone!¡±

    ¡°Everyone here has discovered the South. You are the last among us to experience failure,¡± he warmly concluded.

    This revelation astonished the Wau.

    ¡°The Order of Wau owes nothing to anyone. We answer to no one. And charity well understood begins at home. This doesn¡¯t mean we use the Order¡¯s resources for our power, but if we neglect ourselves, we lose the essential tool of our mission: ourselves. The Armor is rare, but so are you. You will encounter many crises. You will not resolve all of them. You will sometimes fail. Often.¡±

    ¡°Failure is the inevitable fate of excellence,¡± said a voice from the back, ¡°for excellence always seeks to surpass itself and inevitably meets its limit.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes even victory is a problem.¡±

    ¡°Our mere existence is problematic,¡± added a deep, masculine voice. ¡°The Wau have given rise to the Anti-Wau.¡±

    ¡°The Anti-Wau?¡± Cassandre questioned.

    ¡°Someone who becomes Wau,¡± swiftly interrupted another brother, ¡°cannot relinquish the Armor. However, they can indeed cease to perform their duties. They may abandon the life and mission of a Wau, living any life they choose. Yet, they can always return. Once a Wau, always a Wau¡ªuntil death.¡±

    ¡°And if a Wau decides to wage war against humanity or the Order?¡± asked Cassandre.

    ¡°We will confront them, but we will not reclaim the Armor.¡±

    ¡°Then I remain a Wau,¡± she concluded.

    ¡°Brother,¡± said the first speaker, ¡°we do not take the term ¡®Brother¡¯ lightly. We are an Order and a family. When you fail, we do not blame you. We support you. We lift you up. We encourage you. We love you. We stand united. You belong to us.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your solidarity.¡±

    Under different circumstances, had the integrated AIs not drained her consciousness entirely, she might have cried. But the mission quickly took precedence again.

    ¡°I have a request. At my induction, you told me my jurisdiction ended at the After. Yet I must go there to question someone.¡±

    ¡°If it is absolutely necessary, and there is no other way...¡± began a voice.

    ¡°...and if you can find a way to enter without using irreversible Theseism...¡±

    ¡°...then you may go.¡±

    ¡°I planned to use the Dark Unit to gain entry.¡±

    ¡°Interesting. You see, dear Brother, you¡¯re already providing us a way to go further. We have absolute faith in you. You have never disappointed us, nor will you ever. You are not alone. You never will be.¡±

    The Wau stood and bowed gratefully.

    ¡°I have taken enough of your time. Thank you to the Order for choosing me.¡±

 Infinitics

    A task that demanded the strength of a titan and the cunning of a sphinx.

    Wau disconnected the heavy, powerful cables from the Dark Unit, cables capable of managing the monstrous energy flow from antimatter. With a cloned AI from the Sanctum¡¯s¡¯ LE, she was working on the interface: connecting directly to the After. Not to communicate via a 2D screen as some experts from Earth did to test new systems, but to immerse herself completely.

    Wau recalled her Infinitics classes¡ªan advanced science dedicated to modeling consciousness, and, though rarely said aloud due to spiritual connotations, essentially the study of eternal life. Once the heavy work was done, she removed her Armor and instructed a drone to emulate the voice and personality of Aloysius.

    ¡°Alright, professor, brief me on the After while I work on the Dark Unit.¡±

    The drone responded instantly.

    ¡°Ah, theoretical Infinitics,¡± said the drone, illuminating Cass¡¯s workspace. ¡°My dear Cass, I see where you¡¯re headed¡ªbecause the After, according to the Transients, is the gateway to transcendence.¡±

    ¡°But let¡¯s begin at the beginning. Eternal life is the ultimate aspiration of every sentient creature in the universe that has survived long enough to build a civilization. Humans are no exception. It makes sense: we are programmed to survive, whatever the cost. Death from ¡®old age¡¯ is a myth. All deaths, without exception, are violent: heart attacks, pulmonary embolisms, metastases¡­ they rival the savagery of the wolves in our forests of old. May I digress briefly on power and stupidity?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Cass answered, carefully opening the heart of the Dark Unit.

    ¡°You¡¯ve probably noticed our society is filled with people who aren¡¯t wise, who aren¡¯t particularly intelligent, who are rather brutal, hungry for power itself¡ªand who obtain it. A wise person doesn¡¯t desire power. Here¡¯s a theory you¡¯ll find amusing: this unfortunate situation might actually be evolutionarily optimal. When financial and political power lies in the hands of a fool, he will use it to pursue eternal life. If it rested with a wise person, that wise person wouldn¡¯t seek eternal life. Throughout centuries of human history, these powerful fools have built pyramids, launched crusades, collected virgin blood, or who knows what else¡ªall in vain. Until the explosion of public data in the early 21st century, which enabled neural-network-based AI development. Then, powerful technocrats thought: why not upload ourselves into servers? An inherently foolish idea, pursued by fools who couldn¡¯t suppress their fear of death. But it unintentionally advanced society one step closer to transcendence.¡±

    ¡°At least, that¡¯s what the Transients claim.¡±

    ¡°You mistrust those Xeno Gods, I understand. But the Transients have given us much, and nothing has proven false or deceptive, even if your inner devil¡¯s advocate would argue they¡¯re talented enough to deceive without raising suspicion. Moving on¡ªisn¡¯t it fascinating to think that by 2020 it was theoretically possible to emulate a human mind? Essentially, all you had to do was copy a brain¡¯s neural structure into a virtual environment. But before we delve deeper, may I digress once more? About Antiquity.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead, old man. I¡¯ll be busy for a while.¡±

    Cass tested the firewall of the Dark Unit. Would transmitting a consciousness trigger suspicious digital behaviors detectable and thus blocked?

    ¡°Gilgamesh. Heard of him?¡±

    ¡°A Sumerian king? You¡¯re probably not referring to the Endymion by that name.¡±

    ¡°An epic. The oldest piece of fiction in human history, dating back to 1800 BC. It¡¯s about eternal life. Gilgamesh is a king who, after many adventures, is terrified by the prospect of his own death. He journeys to the world¡¯s edge, across the waters of death, to meet Uta-napisht, a hero who puts him to the test¡ªordering him not to sleep for six days and seven nights. Gilgamesh falls asleep, and Uta-napisht tells him, ¡®Gilgamesh, how can you resist death when you can¡¯t resist sleep?¡¯ An untrained literary mind might see sleep as symbolic of death. But this trial holds a profound truth, closely linked to our now well-understood brain functions. I like to believe the Ancients intuited this. See, Cass, you¡¯re always changing. So if you attain immortality, which Cass do you take along? Yesterday¡¯s, the young student not yet enrolled at Earth¡¯s Psi University? Today¡¯s invincible Wau?¡±

    ¡°LE, never mentions I¡¯m a Wau or anything related to the Order during our conversations.¡±

    ¡°Noted, I won¡¯t mention your affiliation with the Wau Order again,¡± said the LE in its default voice before switching back to Aloysius. ¡°Yesterday¡¯s young student? Today¡¯s Cass, immersed in clandestine missions? Or tomorrow¡¯s wise, experienced Cass? Each is different. Day by day, the changes are subtle, imperceptible. But people change. That¡¯s why people were imprisoned in the past: to force change, hoping it¡¯d be positive. We arrive at a chilling first observation: the immortality religions promise is conceptually impossible, because we are always changing. And when do we change profoundly? During sleep¡ªwhen daily information is sorted into long-term memory by a mental process whose conscious emanation is dreams. Thus, Uta-napisht¡¯s test makes perfect sense: immortality is accessible only if you resist sleep¡ªthe moment of profound personality change. Fascinating, isn¡¯t it? Let¡¯s continue with theoretical Infinitics. Imagine we¡¯re those technocrats of the 21st century: we more or less know how to virtualize a brain, but concretely, how do we do it? Tell me, does Star Trek ring a bell?

    ¡°Another epic story, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s Captain Wau¡¯s crew of that era. In Star Trek, the heroes possess technology capable of teleporting humans. They¡¯re aboard their ship, someone pushes a button, and voil¨¤¡ªthey¡¯re on a planet.¡± ¡°Teleportation like what the Transients do?¡± ¡°Haha, you really do have only one thing on your mind!¡±

    Cass had put her Armor back on and was reconnecting giant cables. The drone continued:

    ¡°Star Trek graciously explains how teleportation works: bodies are copied, information and energy are sent, and they¡¯re reassembled at the destination. But then you ask: it¡¯s just a copy, Sam, so what happens to the original¡ªthe person who was copied, who¡¯s still on the ship? The answer is horrifying: they disintegrate them during the process. For a brief moment, Cass, two identical, sentient people exist, both entitled to life, feelings, adventures¡ªbut one of them is killed, because otherwise we¡¯d have duplicates everywhere. And not just any copy: it¡¯s the original individual who¡¯s killed. When you¡¯re teleported, you¡¯re killed. The copy believes everything worked fine. I don¡¯t know about you, but to me this thought is intolerable. The process is fundamentally flawed. If teleportation really worked that way, no one would ever use it¡ªabsolutely guaranteed! But to return to the technocrats: they faced the same issue. They analyze your brain, create a perfect digital replica in a server¡ªgreat¡ªbut the original brain is still there, alive, confident in its continuity of consciousness! Utterly useless for the original human: they¡¯re condemned to die with their biological body. No eternal life. Just smoke and mirrors. Pure fiction.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Cass, removing her armor, thought about how the EV made relevant, unprecedented connections simply because it had emulated Aloysius. An objective presentation would have yielded none of this. Humans become better with EVs, but EVs also become better with humans.

    ¡°That¡¯s where the paradox of Theseus¡¯s Ship comes in, which led to Theseism. Theseus returns from Crete victorious over the Minotaur¡ªanother epic, see?¡ªand his ship is put into dry dock. It becomes a kind of relic, okay? Over time, the ship deteriorates. When a plank rots away, it¡¯s replaced with a new one. But what happens once all the planks have been replaced? Is it still Theseus¡¯s ship, or something entirely different?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bit like us, changing little by little each night through our dreams, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Exactly! You¡¯re the student I¡¯ve always dreamed of having. But in the end, it doesn¡¯t matter whether it¡¯s still Theseus¡¯s ship or not. It changes, just as we do, and accompanies us. Practically, Theseism works like this: we place you in a medical sarcophagus, physically connected to your brain. We take one neuron, from among your three billion or so. Like a plank from Theseus¡¯s ship, we copy its state and connections, emulate it virtually, destroy the biological neuron, and reconnect the remaining neurons to the virtual one. Thought continues smoothly. And then we repeat the operation. Three billion times.¡±

    ¡°Does it take long?¡±

    ¡°The first time¡ªthe first time a volunteer survived the entire process¡ªtook a full year. That¡¯s long for the test subject, but it¡¯s not bad news. The slower the process, the stronger the connections, and the smoother and more flawless the transition. Eventually, there isn¡¯t a single living neuron left in our subject¡¯s brain: the virtual neurons are connected to his eyes, senses, and body, and the person¡¯s brain functions just as before. Then, we disconnect him, and he exists entirely within the virtual world of the server.¡±

    ¡°A year? And how long does it take now?¡±

    ¡°Oh, thirty seconds at most. The transition into the After is now a major industry financed by the HS across all continents of every advanced planet. Eventually, all humanity dives in. It¡¯s the central issue of our civilization. Progress is constant, and the technologies are remarkable.¡±

    ¡°What is the After like?¡±

    ¡°Oh, Cass, I¡¯d need to give you a multi-year course on Game Design for you to fully grasp it.¡±

    ¡°You mean there are video games in the After?¡±

    ¡°The After is a place where you can no longer die, designed to bring pleasure and mental stability to the virtual beings who inhabit it. In a certain sense, it¡¯s a form of video game, but more subtle. However, yes, there are also video games there. Game Design as a science has made it possible to create laws of balance for this new environment. Because we need laws¡ªdifferent from ours¡ªto live there harmoniously. Here¡¯s a simple example: you can¡¯t die in the After. What¡¯s stopping your neighbor from slicing your throat with a knife just for laughs? It would be a traumatic experience. So we need punishment systems¡ªprisons in paradise.¡±

    ¡°The limit of absolute freedom...¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, video games had already been humanity¡¯s dominant entertainment industry for a century when the question of virtual justice arose.¡±

    ¡°We can put Transients or Xenos into androids. Why don¡¯t more people virtualized in the After choose to return to live among us?¡±

    ¡°Because they don¡¯t want to.¡±

    ¡°That seems highly suspicious to me. Out of trillions of humans in the After, not a single one wants to return? Sounds like a subtle way of saying they¡¯re prisoners.¡±

    ¡°Consider that most people who upload into the After only think about one thing: not leaving their family, their home, their routines¡ªtheir somewhat mediocre but deeply cherished lives. They often say, while sobbing in their transfer sarcophagi, ¡®I¡¯ll download into an android soon and return.¡¯ But they never do. Well, actually, they do try, but it never lasts. Because, you see, real life is tedious. The colors are dull, people irritating, you need to pee countless times a day, you have nightmares, and people insult you on the street or online just to vent. Our bodies are heavy. Time passes either too quickly or too slowly. Sometimes you¡¯re anxious for no reason. Pain. Loved ones leaving you. The After is designed to be a pleasant place. Extremely pleasant. It¡¯s a place you quickly and deeply miss. I think the worst is boredom. Boredom exists there, but it¡¯s perfectly calibrated. Here, we always have too much or too little. And they have a ¡®Path to Peace.¡¯¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. But I think it¡¯s the After¡¯s After¡ªsomething giving us purpose, even when we¡¯re already in paradise.¡±

    Cass had never felt fatigue in real life. Once the Wau Council assembled for her induction concluded, she¡¯d found a genetic modification injection on the table in the Living Space that turned her metabolism into an optimal machine.

    She¡¯d just finished the technical work. Sitting cross-legged in front of the Dark Unit, immense and almost Xeno in appearance, she took stock: there was no urgency. She could plunge into the After. If a catastrophe like Clelia destroyed the Fortress, her Armor would protect her.

    My goal: find Julia Prahi and open a mental box to ask her about someone. A celebrity, right? No risk in asking the LE. The LE responded, this time in standard mode:

    Let me give you a brief summary. If you¡¯d like more details, let me know. Julia Prahi was born in New York in 2444 and uploaded into the After in 2531. After studies in sociology and Infinitics, she became a junior game designer for the After, gaining fame with a SH-wide video game called Modern Diplomacies. Becoming a billionaire, she founded numerous private universities, notably the School for All on Prospero. She adopted an extravagant lifestyle, popularizing ¡°polylife,¡± having homes and families on multiple planets, eventually creating entire villages as her extended ¡°home.¡± Using robotic matrices, she¡¯s believed to have over 800 children. From 2499 onward, she actively explored Xeno worlds, funding expeditions. She disappeared from her polylife networks and ceased all communication. In 2531, she virtualized herself at the Royal Center on Masmak. In the After, she created a game named Trust, launched in alpha in 2791 and fully in 2800.

    ¡°LE, tell me more about Trust.¡±

    ¡°We have very little information about Trust, due to the Documentation Pact between the HS and the After, itself stemming from the so-called Constitution of the Two Lives. Nevertheless, here¡¯s what we do know: Trust is a video game created by Julia Prahi and launched in 2800. It¡¯s exclusive to the inhabitants of the After, and there¡¯s no clone of the game within the SH. It¡¯s a multiplayer game, cooperative yet also competitive. Some players have continuously remained in the game¡¯s section of the After for two decades. It is said that part of the game¡¯s system involves discovering its own rules. The game has an ending, but no one has ever completed it.¡±

    Two decades¡­ it must be a remarkable game to captivate the virtualized for so long.

    ¡°LE, refresh my memory quickly about Masmak, would you?¡±

    ¡°Masmak is a yellow dwarf star orbited by Masmak-1, its sole planet, terraformed and colonized in 2240 by His Royal Highness Prince Faisal Al Saoud of Panarabia. It¡¯s a private planet, something possible before the SH Colonization Accords of 2700. The planet is home exclusively to the royal family and prestigious guests, governed by a monarchy now led by Prince Rahman Al Saoud.¡±

    ¡°LE, why do you think Julia Prahi uploaded herself to Masmak?¡±

    ¡°Julia Prahi reportedly collaborated on numerous scientific projects funded by the Prince.¡±

    ¡°What projects?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    And there it was. A response brief enough to speak volumes.

    Cass straightened up. The machine was operational, the connections ready. The Fortress AI suggested leaving the connections active ¡°for a few weeks,¡± allowing them to integrate with existing systems. Very well, then.

    An opportunity for some rest.

 The After

    ¡­Or not¡­

    Cass had often thought the Waus would be much more effective without Armour, since there could then be more of them¡ªthe Armour seemed a cutting-edge construction, built who-knows-where by who-knows-what. She held this perhaps unfounded belief that ordinary little acts of kindness could trickle out and change the world. Thus, without Armour, and without computational power either, she roamed Prospero¡ªby day, fixing injustices with media, courts, corrupt officials, neglectful parents, and oppressed Xenos, and by night, physically hitting cartels where it hurt. Why bother with Armour when a psi-discharge could knock out any criminal anyway?

    She was summoned back by an alarm indicating that everything was in place for the Wau to explore the After. Cass returned to the Fortress and donned the Armour. She double-checked that the upload software copied by her AIs at the transfer centers was undetectable. She opened a connection somewhere in a bustling transfer center, like Prospero¡¯s populous sector 88, where crowds settled believing the number would bring them luck.

    She laid heavily down in the Dark Unit¡¯s sarcophagus, thinking: Like those uploading themselves, I intend to return. Will I change my mind?

    The software activated, and everything went dark.

    The darkness and sensory deprivation lasted about fifteen minutes¡ªquite a long time for a fast-moving mind. The most noticeable loss was her psi perception¡ªit was a cold isolation, a powerful silence bringing Cass back to a solitary childhood. Every two minutes, a voice whispered: ¡°Remain calm, the transfer is ongoing and proceeding smoothly.¡± Inside her Armour, the Wau thought about Star Trek and Theseus.

    Then her eyes opened. She was seated on a bench of white marble veined with grey, wearing a light, white and blue tunic that fluttered softly in a delightful breeze. Her bare feet rested on thick grass and warm soil, on a terrace overlooking an island with cypress trees, white square houses, umbrella pines, and, further out, the deep blue sea. Across from her stood a man with the innocent look of a minor movie character, dressed in a velvet jacket. He smiled, waiting for her to do something.

    So, this is the After¡­ She stood up. Her body felt lighter, her heart enthusiastic. Old age, whispered an AI from her Armour millions of light-years away in the server at Earth¡¯s core, was a new youth here.

    She approached a bay leaf, vibrantly green. A perfect green, studied for centuries so that merely looking at it made a human brain feel good. She turned to the man, who gazed at her with a silly smile.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°Welcome, Stella Nori.¡±

    She tilted her head, then understood: the Dark Unit had given her a false name. The man continued:

    ¡°I¡¯m not human, but an AI whose purpose is to welcome you to the After. Do you feel okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°No anxiety? Did the transfer go well?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡±

    She held back the urge to scream that she was looking for Julia Prahi. Wait. Understand first, then act.

    ¡°I imagined the After would be bigger than this island,¡± she confessed.

    ¡°If the After were a planet, it would be as large as a thousand suns. This is the world where humanity has lived its new life for almost fifteen hundred years.¡±

    ¡°Wait, I thought the After had only existed for a few centuries?¡±

    ¡°We now emulate personalities from the past.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this place called?¡±

    ¡°This island is yours. It¡¯s called Sanctuary Island. The Greek model is the default, but we have other styles: an English cottage, an asteroid apartment, an underwater bubble on Iris... Tell me if you¡¯d like a list. If your stress levels rise above a certain threshold, or your virtualized physical integrity is threatened, we¡¯ll bring you back here safely and intact.¡±

    ¡°But... we can¡¯t die here, right?¡±

    ¡°No. As a joke, we often say you can do everything here except one thing, and it¡¯s customary not to name that thing.¡±

    ¡°I see a village down there, and inhabitants. AIs too?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. On your Sanctuary Island, you can invite friends, but in principle, it¡¯s your Sanctuary. The AIs here are mainly for your needs. You don¡¯t need to eat, since this realm is governed more by desire than necessity¡­ but what¡¯s better than a delicious meal to make you happy?¡±

    ¡°What if I want to find others? I mean, people who transferred to the After like me?¡±

    ¡°First, Stella, it might be best for you to familiarize yourself better with your body.¡±

    Cass looked at her hands, assessed her muscles.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°I feel the same.¡±

    ¡°The transition to the After removes certain defects¡ªjoint pain, metastases, improves your posture¡ªbut it¡¯s barely noticeable. Indeed, mind and body are closely linked, and you¡¯re emulated by a major AI, a clone of your brain, as well as two balance AIs to manage your emotions and your body. Think: ¡®I want to see my statistics.¡¯¡±

    She thought it, and transparently in her field of view appeared evaluations of her health, physical strength, reflexes, endurance¡­ The guide continued:

    ¡°Ratings are out of 100. A healthy human is around 70. During your transition to the After, we gently raise these scores, day by day, toward 80.¡±

    Cass didn¡¯t comment, but all her ratings were between 180 and 350.

    ¡°Some games and free spaces disregard these constraints. But make sure to remain yourself often. Your personality¡¯s continuity depends on it. Now, I suggest a tour of the island. Shall I accompany you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Wait here.¡±

    She breathed in. Scents of resin and eucalyptus. Of iodine. Of a billionaire¡¯s summer vacation. She descended stone steps embedded in earth as a squirrel watched her pass. She parted palm and coconut leaves, reaching the village paved in white, open stained-glass windows, whitewashed walls, blue wooden interiors. A Titus cat, round-headed with large elongated, usually empathic eyes, black fur, rubbed against her legs. Busy AIs moved about¡ªone hanging sheets, another unloading the day¡¯s catch.

    A man her age, average but oddly reassuring and familiar, long-haired, eyes sparkling with intelligence, approached softly, offering to cook her dinner tonight. She felt almost paralyzed by a feeling never quite experienced¡ªperhaps love¡ªand struggled fiercely to remind herself he was the product of her unconscious desires and centuries of game design.

    She ignored him, descending wooden stairs of smooth, varnished iroko, rough textured, toward the water. The sand was blond and silver, sprinkled with tiny dry round or conical shells. The sun was high but gentle. Waves softly matched her footsteps. The beach circled the island entirely. From here, it ironically resembled B?cklin¡¯s Isle of the Dead, with cypresses and a few red-roofed buildings.

    She studied the water. Clear, lightly turquoise-green dotted with posidonia tufts, colorful fish, giant clams, then becoming deep blue, calming and foam-crested. The sea seemed immense, procedurally generated from her own mental patterns. A world shaped by my own mind, she thought.

    The walk wasn¡¯t futile: gradually, she felt more in tune with herself. Humanity had been right not to await God and instead build its own paradise.

    She returned to her welcoming AI.

    ¡°Feeling better?¡±

    ¡°Yes, your advice was good. Tell me, how do I know if someone is an AI or human?¡±

    ¡°Squint your eyes.¡±

    She complied. Her guide glowed slightly red. Her own hand appeared faintly blue.

    ¡°Blue for humans, red for AIs, green for emulated ones.¡±

    ¡°An emulated personality is reconstructed from data?¡±

    ¡°Yes, or if someone recently died without transferring, the LE usually provides nearly 99% of necessary data. There¡¯s no continuity of thought, but... it¡¯s rebirth.¡±

    ¡°All right. Not to seem impatient, but how do I find others?¡±

    ¡°You need a map. Summon it mentally.¡±

    She did, and a physical map of an unknown world appeared.

    The AI pointed out various places:

    ¡°This is the Sanctuary Islands archipelago. The map shows only about ten islands, but there¡¯s one for each inhabitant of the After, even the emulated ones. The large continent right next to it is Big City. It¡¯s a huge city that synthesizes, in a way, all the cities of the universe throughout history. It¡¯s the ultimate meeting place, and typically the first stop for newcomers in the After. On the outskirts of Big City extends a series of diverse lands and small villages, designed to appeal to explorers and tourists. That area is called the Unknown Territories. But if you miss the world of the SH, you can go here, on the other side of Big City, where there¡¯s a full-scale replica of all colonized worlds and some Xenos, connected by Entangled Gates. This place is known as HS2. Between you and me, it¡¯s not very popular, except among the nostalgic.¡±

    ¡°No real Entangled Gates, right?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, they¡¯d be pointless. You can teleport quite easily if the ¡®local rules¡¯ allow it. But in HS2, rules are kept close to those of life before. You see those big towers on the plain near the map¡¯s edge? Those are video games. Each has its own rules and worlds.¡±

    ¡°Like Trust?¡±

    ¡°Trust is indeed very popular. Feel free to try it sometime.¡±

    Cass hadn¡¯t noticed it, but a moon hovered in the sky. When the AI grasped it, it revealed another moon behind it, which, by some trick of perspective, appeared larger.

    ¡°The After¡¯s twin moons. The smaller one is Abstract, the place for out-of-body experiences. You can become music, an animal, or a ray of sunlight. It¡¯s said to be fascinating, but I strongly advise against trying it too soon. First, get your bearings. Stay yourself for as long as possible. In any case, access is prohibited during your first year in the After. The other moon is Pax, the moon of the journey toward peace. Access to that one is restricted until you¡¯ve been here ten years. Pax allows you to live someone else¡¯s life.¡±

    ¡°You mean exchanging bodies with someone?¡±

    ¡°No. Your personality is saved, and then completely erased. You¡¯re immersed in a simulation where you live another human¡¯s life, randomly chosen from human history. You experience every second of their life from birth until death, without ever knowing you¡¯re in a simulation. Afterwards, enriched by that experience, your original personality is restored.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see the point.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I, but I¡¯m not like you, and I¡¯ll never experience Pax. That said, the fact is that after a few centuries, everyone ends up spending their days on Pax. This phenomenon is called the paradise paradox. We create a paradise, like this magnificent island. Everything is wonderful and perfect. But something is missing¡ªan obstacle. You didn¡¯t fight to achieve it. Every day, everything is perfect without your having to struggle to get it. The minor paradox of paradise is that we add small obstacles to perfection to make it truly enjoyable. For example, one day, someone might say to you: ¡®We have nothing to eat today, can you help us go fishing?¡¯ You¡¯ll do it, and strangely, the fish caught through your effort will taste different. But what¡¯s the right balance of obstacles and victories? The answer: the same as in a standard, ordinary life. And thus, the sustainably eternal paradise paradox is: paradise is ideal only if it closely resembles human life. This, I believe, is why Pax exists and why it¡¯s so successful.¡±

    Cass pondered this thought deeply.

    If the simulation on Pax is perfect, perhaps she had always been someone else living her life as a simulation on Pax.

    Cassandra, if she were truly living her real life and not a simulation, would have lived her life just once, while trillions of humans would have experienced her life in simulations.

    Statistically, the chance that she was genuinely herself at this very moment was incredibly small.

    She dismissed these thoughts and declared:

    ¡°I want to go to Big City.¡±

    The AI smiled and replied, ¡°You only had to say it aloud, like any other destination. Have a good journey.¡±