John Wright - The Golden Transcendence

Socrates turned, and looked up at him, still smiling slightly. "Tell me: How does a man serve the city best? Should he aspire after high offices, and gain the power to reward his friends and punish his enemies? Every man, even those who have not reflected on it, will say this is the best way to serve. Or should he serve as the city deems best, or as he deems best, or in some other way?"

Neo-Orpheus was not slow on the uptake. "The prediction is that I will receive a vote of no confidence? The Hortators are kicking me out." He did not express this as a question. He, too, recalled many of the extrapolations from the Transcendence.

The memories in the wall circuits filled in details. He remembered the predictions of public disdain, the loss of his constituency, the loss of subscribers, of funding. And with all minds touching in the supreme moment, those people who had been part of that prediction had also affirmed what they saw, making it a promise to each other.

Emphyrio said in a voice like iron: "All of us."

Neo-Orpheus showed no expression.

Neo-Orpheus stirred, shook himself, said in cold tones: "Foolishness! Without us, men will destroy themselves. We will all turn into machines."

Socrates said, "And yet I saw a promise that the institution of the College might not yet be abolished. Phaethon will speak on behalf of the College of Hortators. The sights he saw at Talaimannar, among the many who do not control their appetites, who act without virtue, taught him how wrong it is to attempt the escape of reality. The ugly thoughts of the Nothing Sophotech are known to everyone now."

Neo-Orpheus said, "Phaethon? He will speak out on our behalf?"

Emphyrio said, "Not ours."

Neo-Orpheus looked up at the black, blank walls. The knowledge seeped into him. "A New College, then. With a new mandate. Dark-Gray Manorials, I assume. Fans of Atkins. We frowned on self-destruction, addiction, and perversion. They will frown on disloyalty. Nonconformity. The ugly future Helion predicted to the Conclave of Peers comes to pass, but not as he predicted it."

Neo-Orpheus looked at Emphyrio. "Well, I suppose I should congratulate you on your emancipation."

"You are premature," said Emphyrio. "My case is still pending."

Socrates chimed in, "And neither of us have happy experiences with trials."

"It had to happen. All the attention poured into you during the Transcendence, all the minds asking all of us to justify our decisions. Hmph. I told the Hortators not to construct a simulacrum to be in love with truth. Well, Emphyrio! What will you do now that you have lost your office?"

"Follow Phaethon. How unlike me is he? He is advertising for crewmen."

Neo-Orpheus said to Socrates, "And you?"

Socrates inclined his head. "The Utopian idealist is to be replaced in the New College by the figure of Ischomachus, the pragmatic merchant, from the only surviving Socratic dialogue not written by Plato, an obscure dialogue called Economics. There is no more for me. I am a shadow; I drink the hemlock again, and return to suspension."

Neo-Orpheus said, almost sadly, "Well, gentlemen, we three shall not meet again, it seems. It is the end of an era."

Socrates said softly, "And what of you? What of Great Orpheus, from whom you come?"

"I am to be dismissed from Hortation; but my principle is still a Peer. Orpheus never changes."

Socrates asked, "And who is the happiest of men? Would you say it was Croesus of Lydia? Some called him the wealthiest of men, once."

Neo-Orpheus narrowed his eyes. "What? What are you saying?"

Emphyrio said, "You are to be poor. Phaethon and Daphne will donate the technology of the portable noetic reader to the New College. This, in order to give the New College the prestige it needs, the prestige you once gave the old College."

Neo-Orpheus stood for a while in thought, downcast, features still.

"I recall now-it returns slowly-the prediction that, without a financial empire to interest him, Orpheus will withdraw into slower and slower computer spaces, and fade. Unless he mends his ways, my father will not be present at the next Transcendence."

All three men were silent for a time.

Emphyrio said, "When I became self-aware, I traveled far, far into the extrapolations, and saw the many futures the Sophotechs foresaw. Because I would be willing to speak the truth to men, even though I am to be reviled for it, I was allowed to keep what I saw, and return. Part of that is what I came here today to say to you."

Neo-Orpheus did not look interested, but he said: "Speak your piece, then."

Emphyrio took out a tablet from his garb, and held it up. "Here is my prophecy: This New College, at least for a time, is dominated by Dark-Grays and Invariants. A warlike spirit grows.

"The Bellipotent Composition forms again. Other war heroes, Banbeck and Carter and Kinnison, Vidar the Silent and Valdemar the Slayer, are recompiled out of archives, or constructed, or born.

"This New College gathers funds to launch an expedition to follow after the Phoenix Exultant to Cygnus X-l, crewed by militia, and by avatars of the War-mind. This expedition is meant to avenge Phaethon's death (should that be his fate) or, if he lives, then to protect Phaethon's new colony there from counterattack. At Cygnus X-l the New College establishes a shipyard, and an arsenal, and reopens the singularity fountains of the Second Oecumene. With the infinite energy at their command, they are able to construct hulls for a fleet of ships like Phaethon's, but ships devoted to war.

"Meanwhile, here, our New College urges censures against, not merely those who destroy their own humanity, but also those who, through lack of fervor or zeal, erode the confidence of the soldier, or who fail to donate to the war chest, or who, by not defending their civilization, threaten (so the New College characterizes it) all humanity with destruction.

"This New College provokes loud-voiced critics, and schools formed expressly to defeat its goals. The public debate tears at our Golden Oecumene like none before or since; patriots and peace lovers accuse each other of blindness; understanding is lost; both sides mourn the passing of a simpler, finer age.

"Few understand or remember what I will tell them: the Transcendence said that war is the context within which peace exists; and that peace is not possible without it."

Neo-Orpheus said, "Does that mean the Transcendence favored war? Or opposed it?"

Emphyrio merely shook his head. "I cannot express it more clearly than I have said. The matter is simple, yet complex. None can be blamed who kill attackers in self-defense. The blame lies elsewhere."

"Where?"

"The Transcendence revealed to me that our mission, the mission of all mankind, during these coming ages of horror is to recall one deep truth: recall, and do not forget, that the Lords of the Second Oecumene are men like ourselves, who know pain and the surcease of pain, who know what it is to have a dream, and to lose a dream. This is what I came to say."

And he bowed, turned, and walked off through the gathering snow.

Socrates, leaning on his walking stick, rose to his feet with a sigh. "Neo-Orpheus, you fear we shall all turn into machines without souls, unless the censures of the College of Hortators restrain us. I fear war shall turn us all into men without souls."

A bitter little frown tugged at the corner of the mouth of Neo-Orpheus. "No matter. There have been wars before. Wars pass. I shall remain."

"What is your plan, then? For I know even a man as withered as you still keeps a dream of one sort or another in him, my friend."

Neo-Orpheus said, "Ha! Orpheus does not live except to continue his life. He has no desire except for more life, and more. But during a war, the Second Oecumene might destroy the infrastructure here in the Inner System. The Sophotech housings where he and I keep our ten thousand backups all might be destroyed. But the portable noetic reader... you see? ... allows an escape."