The Improbable Rise of Singularity Girl Read online

Mentat huddled beneath a tree, stroking her teddy bear and whispering to it. She noticed Helen's gaze and frowned, then got up and came over to her. Helen flinched as the woman reached out and touched her face. For a few long seconds, their eyes locked. "I wouldn't trade places with you," Mentat said, pulling back her hand. "Not for the world."

  She sounded almost sad, as though she knew that some promise of tragedy hid underneath the words. Then she added, "I like your hair, though." She looked at Valdis, and her eyes lit up. "Can we have cheeseburgers today?"

  "If you're good." Valdis squeezed the girl's shoulder. Noticing the slightly stricken look on Helen's face, she said, "You understand, there's often no rhyme or reason to what she says."

  "That you know of," was all that Helen could muster.

  Valdis shrugged. "I've been with her for a while. Don't let her rattle you." She seemed eager to change the subject. "Now that you have limited clearance, would you like the tour?"

  "Sure. Just skip the gardens. Already seen the gardens." As they walked out the door, she asked, "So does this mean that I'm not actually a Manchurian candidate sent here to cause chaos?"

  "Not exactly. They found a lot of Wolf spyware, buried way down deep. They found and quarantined a load of it. You were probably infected during the battle."

  "So Wolf saw everything I did these last few months?"

  "I'm not sure they can tell."

  Helen grabbed Valdis by the arm and pulled her around. "This is important! The people I was with, are they in danger because of me?"

  Valdis pulled away. "You're asking the wrong Icelander. Why do you people always act like everyone should know everything there is to know?"

  "What do you mean, 'you people'?" Helen's voice dripped with sarcasm.

  "Spare me the outrage," Val said. "You have to admit that there's a family resemblance. The point is, I don't have all the answers you want, so be patient, and do not grab me like that."

  "She'd like it if you grabbed her in other ways," Mentat added. Helen looked at her, but she had already drifted back to her own substitute reality.

  Helen didn't understand until she noticed that Valdis' face had turned bright red. "We're not exclusive or anything," she protested. "But a woman in white swoops down and rescues you from death? That has an effect on a girl."

  Helen could see what the collective saw in the woman. She was smart, beautiful, confident without being pushy, and huggably adorable when embarrassed. But the revelation was a bit much to deal with at the moment. "Okay, lover. I get that it's not your fault, and I'll try to tone down the evil. But when do I get to talk to answer girl?"

  Val smiled. "I don't know. Your clan can be very secretive sometimes. When you rejoin, remind the others to try to open up a bit more."

  They found themselves in an open aired forum near the heart of the city. A crowd of people were there, talking amongst themselves in small groups. A few of them were arguing in front of blackboards covered with dense equations.

  "So, what brought you here?" Helen asked. "What about your family?"

  "I came here because I decided that this whole deathproofing project was important, so I wanted to contribute where I could. My family, well, I still see them a lot during my off hours. But the trouble is, they'll always see me as an invalid. Being an upload is just a new ailment. I try to explain to them that I feel liberated, but they don't really listen."

  "Maybe that's what they're afraid of," Helen blurted out. "I mean, anytime someone you care about stops needing you for something, you get this fear that they'll stop needing you altogether." Valdis seemed skeptical, so she added, "Make sure they know you're not going anywhere."

  "I'll try that," Val said. "Hmm, what's gotten into her?"

  She pointed to Mentat, who was studying the chalkboard with a laserlike intensity. The three researchers who had been using the board fell expectantly silent, watching her as she digested the equations. She wondered at the expressions on their faces; it was as though they were in the presence of a deity.

  "It looks like they're doing some meta-string theory stuff," Helen said. "Some sort of reframing of the holographic principle. These three are way out of my league, though."

  Helen caught Valdis' confusion, and added, "The holographic principle is the idea that any region of space can be perfectly described by a two-dimensional surface on the surface of the region. I think the implication they're looking at here is that sometimes information we think of as 'lost' really hasn't disappeared, and can still be recovered."

  Val chuckled. "Believe me, I didn't ask."

  Mentat snatched the chalk from one of the researchers, and picked up the eraser. She wiped out one side of the lowest equation, then carefully filled in the empty region with the outline of a rubber duck. Val looked embarrassed again, as the crowd burst into laughter and the researchers stared in confusion at their itinerant assistant. Mentat put down the chalk and eraser and returned to Valdis, seeming very pleased. "She's actually done some impressive work," Valdis explained. "Made some inexplicable breakthroughs. I don't know what's gotten into her today."

  Helen patted the woman's shoulder. "Maybe there was just more wrongness than one blackboard should have to carry. Or maybe she likes ducks." As they turned away, she noticed that one of the researchers was trying to carry on with the math, as though the duck were a perfectly meaningful mathematical symbol. She wished him luck.1

  "She acts out sometimes," Val said, seemingly trying to apologize again.

  Helen tried to console her. "It seems like everyone loves her. There's no reason to be embarrassed. I don't think anyone's judging you for what she does."

  Valdis only nodded. Then she got a strange, distant expression for a few seconds. Just as quickly, she shook it off. "I'll never get used to that. The Queen requests your presence."

  * * *

  1 Mentat's meddling actually turned out to be useful, and led to something called the Oscillatory Duck Topology, which itself turned "But what does The Duck mean?" into one of the great unsolved riddles of the Universe.

  ////////////////////////////////

  // BLACK CLOUD ON THE HORIZON //

  ////////////////////////////////

  One of her sisters -- a prim, professional functionary -- had tried to brief Helen on what to expect during her meeting with The Queen. But as the guards pulled open the tall double doors to reveal the grand hall, she promptly forgot it all. The wide chamber was lined with tall marble columns and red-hued drapes that were pulled open to let the first rays of the rising sun enter through glass windows. It was a beautiful room, which was unsurprising. The surprise was that she couldn't see the other end of it. The marble columns stretched on into eternity.

  She stepped inside. A ribbon of carpet lay down the center of the hall. It was a shimmering white which caught the occasional rainbow of color where the light hit it just right. It was so beautiful, Helen felt a twinge of hesitation about putting her feet on it, as though she might get it dirty. As she stepped on the carpet, it gave her a gentle push upward, lifting her a few inches off the ground. Then came a gentle acceleration forward, into the infinitely long hall. The columns zipped by faster and faster until they became a blur, which eventually merged into a single flat color. Soon it began to slow again, until she stood before a woman sitting on a golden throne.

  The woman wore Helen's face, but idealized and worn with such grace and confidence that Helen hardly recognized herself. She wore the same pearlescent white cloth that made up the carpet. It seemed to flow around her, as though a river of white silk had been poured down her body. Helen was actually standing on part of the train of her gown, which flowed out into dozens of tendrils of cloth, which coiled and uncoiled through the air around her like living creatures that swam slowly through the sunlight.

  The effect would have been frightening, were it not so beautiful. The woman was silent; she seemed to be appraising her. Finally, she said, "Welcome, child. You may call us The Queen."

  "So, you're w
hat, The Helen?" Helen asked.

  The Queen shrugged. "When you put it so simplistically, it really does sound dreadful. There isn't anything truly special about us, other than the executive role we perform. It's not clear to us that we have a truly independent identity at all. For now, just think of us as the 'answer girl' you requested. You may ask us any--"

  "Rainbow. Is she in danger because of me?"

  "The little girl," The Queen said, seemingly unperturbed by her insolence. "Your concern for her is touching."

  "Answer the question," Helen said.

  "The spyware we found in you appears to be long dormant. It was most likely crippled by your ingrained defenses the moment you were infected. It wasn't leaking information to Wolf. Beyond that, we cannot say."

  Helen didn't press further. It seemed unlikely that she would get better information than that. "Where's William?"

  "A common question. He is... elsewhere." The look Helen gave her could have felled a musk ox. "This is not the only New Troy. William is safe, and his upload was successful. But he has joined another faction. He insists on maintaining a separate, unified identity, and he won't set foot in this city."

  "So, he dumped you? Why?"

  The Queen just shook her head.

  "No," Helen insisted. "He wouldn't be that cold. He chose some of us, so what makes you so different?"

  The Queen shrugged. "None of them have embraced their nature as fully as we have. I understand their hesitation, but they're being sentimental."

  "Humans tend to do that," Helen spat.

  "Yes they do. But we are no longer human." She smiled a calm, infuriating smile. "The statement bothers you. Your face pretends to flush, your pulse imagines that it races, your hands go through the motions of clenching. But it is not your nature. It is a costume you wear because you fear to become more."

  "It's more than that." This was not going at all according to plan.

  "Dear child. You molded your own consciousness so that you could see sound, and the experience brought you joy. But this form? We can see through a million eyes at once, control an army as a trained pianist controls her hands. We can taste the light of distant stars, feel the power of the intercontinental power grid coursing through us. We can hold a single atom between two fingers. You cannot begin to comprehend what it's like. To truly understand, you must trade away your origins and embrace this."

  "Consciousness isn't meant to be bundled into these walking sacks of meat. Thoughts aren't meant to be exchanged through the clumsy flapping of vocal cords. Mind should flow through the universe like water."

  Helen shrugged. "Sounds like a bad acid trip if you ask me. So, that's why William won't come here? He doesn't like the water?"

  "Given our shared history, I'm surprised that you take such delight in my heartache."

  Helen shook her head. She took a few steps toward the throne. "No, not delight. But if our 'shared history' has taught me anything, it's that I bring most of my suffering down on myself."

  The Queen flinched. One corner of Helen's mouth rose. There was a chink in her regal air after all.

  "So what are you, anyways?" she pressed. "Is resistance futile?"

  "We are not the Borg."

  "Okay. Say there's a tortoise lying on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs, trying to turn itself over..."

  "We are not a replicant. You do try our patience."

  "Then let me go find William."

  "Of course you may, child. The other cities aren't our enemies. We require just one thing before you go."

  "And that is...?"

  "We wish to truly know you." The Queen floated up from the throne, her white silk train curling and flowing behind her, spreading and dividing as it wove through the room. The cloth blazed where it caught the light of the sun, encircling Helen like a globe.

  Dozens of cloth tentacles approached her, tickling where they brushed her flesh. One of them coiled around her leg, its touch gentle and silken. She tried to pull away from it, but it matched her motions, continuing its lazy circle up her leg. She lost her balance, and was conveyed upward by a river of silk, where more gentle tendrils wrapped around her limbs. The cloth bound and caressed her, wrapping her mouth and cutting off her voice.

  The cloth before her parted like clouds, letting The Queen inside its folds. She floated before Helen, unclothed and beautiful, the cloth streaming out her back. As Helen struggled, The Queen's hand brushed Helen's cheek. "No need to fight," she told her captive, her voice tender. "When we merge, your memories will be woven into our own, enriching us without impoverishing you. You will be wholly ours and wholly your own, and the memory of this time will be a pleasant one."

  At the woman's touch, Helen's fear and uncertainty gave way to desire. Their lips met.

  Then memories and sensations began to flood into her. Her mind began to expand, encompassing The Queen and thousands of other minds, bringing the distant stars close, brushing a hand across the rough texture of the moon, seeing the world through millions of different eyes. She was losing herself, merging into the vastness of an overmind, drowning in an ocean of thought that washed over the entire globe. She wanted more than anything to drown.

  Just before she disappeared under the current, Helen saw it.

  She stared up at the strange, black shape that spread out in all directions before her, like a dark, stringy supernova. Each tendril divided again and again, bifurcating and jutting outward like a thicket of trees. It was at once beautiful and terrifying, and filled her with both a sense of great power and an unspeakable dread.

  The knowledge came to her as a torrent of foreign memories. It was a mindless thing, but a building block for a mind. She saw the uses it would be put to, how it would bend the world to the will of The Queen. She thrashed and struggled, trying to hold on to the scattering fragments of her own mind as one by one they slipped away.

  That's your grand design? her mind tried to shout. No, this is wrong! You can't!

  Her own remorseless voice spoke from all around her and all through her. I already have.

  One Helen disappeared, subsumed under the current. One remained, giggling with delight as her captor's lips worked their way down her throat.

  Hours later, Helen awoke feeling like she had slept for weeks, her body suffused with peace and satisfaction. She opened her eyes, and found herself covered by long tangles of white silk. The Queen was lying beside her, head propped up on one elbow, idly playing with a strand of her hair. Helen smiled.

  "Hello, beloved," The Queen murmured, kissing her on the forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

  Helen could only nod her agreement.

  "Do you still wish to go to the other cities?" The Queen's voice was tinged with disappointment, but also understanding. She already seemed to know; Helen didn't need to answer. "Given the choice," The Queen continued, "we would be with him as well. Life without him is lonelier than we would like."

  "Should I give him your regards?"

  A hint of tears formed at the corners of The Queen's eyes, and her nose gave a small sniffle. "This body," she said. "The sensations it brings, they aren't always pleasant. No, we wouldn't advise it. Our cities aren't enemies, but he has," she hesitated, "a personal grudge against us. The way he tells it, we are some sort of great monster. Just give him this," she said, then leaned in and gave Helen a slow, lingering kiss.

  Helen sat up and embraced the other woman. "I will," she whispered.

  "And by all means, come back from time to time. We shall get reacquainted."

  Helen laughed, embracing her partner. "Get reacquainted? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Of course I'll come back."

  ////////////////////////////

  // A FAILURE TO NEGOTIATE //

  ////////////////////////////

  Date: July 24, 2038

  The climb up the tower took ages. The whole edifice felt rickety, and as she approached the top she could feel it swaying beneath her. The tower lay outside
the protection of the wall, and the building's plank-and-rope construction stood humbled by the sea of crystal behind the wall's translucent glow.

  As she neared the top she paused a moment to look out over the city. It stretched out for miles in front of her, each tower slicing into the air like a sharp knife. No breeze stirred the grass below, and rising currents of warm air caused the landscape to shimmer and shift about. From time to time, a glowing arc would pass between two towers, fading in and then out like a slow sigh.

  Helen caught her breath for a few minutes more, letting her mind relax and wander. Her eye followed a flock of birds as it drifted along a lazy path toward the wall. It passed through, and one of the birds exploded with a muffled pop. The others seemed not to notice.

  She suspected it was one of Wolf's agents. She resumed her climb, feeling how unprotected she was outside the city. She soon reached the top, where there was a large platform shaded by a roof of wood beams and straw. Large nests dotted the periphery of the platform, and the air stank of their occupants. One of them turned toward Helen, let out a labored squawk, and shook itself. It had the head and wings of an eagle, and the body of a lion.

  "You have to be kidding," Helen muttered to herself. Riding gryphons from one city to another? Given the opportunity to represent the travel using practically any metaphor imaginable, her sisters had decided to rip off World of Warcraft.

  She walked up to the flightmaster and revocalized her incredulity. "Gryphons? Really?"

  The man stood up, all seven musclebound feet of him. "Do you have any better ideas?" he asked.

  "Shoggoths," Helen said.

  "Tried it. They eat their riders."

  "Dune buggies?"

  "Gryphons don't emit as much carbon dioxide. And, since I know you're going to suggest them soon, no jetpacks or blasted trebuchets either. You take a gryphon, or you take a long walk. Where you headed, shorty?"

  "I don't know exactly."

  "We have birds headed for Newer Troy, New New Troy, Troy 2.0, Troy Extreme Edition, or Troz. There are a few other cities, but you have to take a connecting flight."