David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

“Excellent work, Craig,” the A.I. said, a tone of relief in his voice. “I’m initiating the Planck effect. Brace yourself. We’ll be in Universe 332 momentarily.”

Craig looked up at the ship he’d helped save and was now abandoning. He’d never felt like such a coward in his life. He closed his eyes and waited for the next horror to appear.

A second later, Drummey was left looking at the empty space where his prisoner and his ride home once were. “Uh oh,” he whispered. He wasn’t looking forward to informing the colonel.

Aldous watched as the powder in the 3D printer slowly dropped in the tray, the binding material being added by the carriage one layer at a time.

“Even if these forgeries pass a cursory visual examination,” Lindholm began to point out as he reentered the room and handed Aldous a paper cup filled with cold water, “and even if we leave them in the resin for hours, they won’t have anywhere near the strength of the real ones.”

“I’m aware,” Aldous replied as he sipped the water. “I’ll do my best to ensure they aren’t put up against the genuine article.”

“You know,” Lindholm noted as he leaned against the wall adjacent to the bulky industrial printer, “for a man who’s spent his life questing for immortality, you seem rather determined to commit suicide.”

Aldous lightly shook his head, continuing to stare at the carriage’s rhythmic movements. “I’ll have the advantage,” he said. “They won’t be expecting this.”

“No,” Lindholm observed, “because, as I said, it’s certainly unexpected from a man who values life the way you do.”

“The way I did ,” Aldous corrected. “There are some people who don’t deserve to live, my friend. I learned that lesson too late. It cost me my wife. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Goddamnit!” Craig shouted as he sprang to his feet and stepped off the Planck platform and onto the gravel rooftop, storming furiously, but aimlessly away. “Goddamn it to Hell!”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the A.I. began, “but we have—”

“You have no idea what you’re saying you’re sorry for!” Craig shouted. “You have no goddamn idea what I’ve lost! You’re a machine! Goddamnit! I’m in Hell! Get me out of this Hell!”

“Craig,” the A.I. replied calmly, “your MTF generator is back online, and we need to find a more secure location immediately. Brace yourself.”

Instantly, Craig was encapsulated in his green cocoon once again, as the A.I. took over the flight systems and quickly scooped him into the air, then flew him down into an alley shaded from the brilliant morning sunshine and toward a giant, abandoned warehouse. Pillars of light shone down through the broken slats of tile in the roof like the fingers of God, illuminating the hellish, dark interior. The A.I. set Craig down on the top floor of the sprawling building, and his boots sank into the two inches of dust that covered the ground.

“Be careful,” the A.I. warned. “The floor is not entirely structurally sound. There are holes.”

“Where are we?”

“This is an abandoned textile—”

“No!” Craig shouted with frustration as he used a powerful blast of energy to rip apart his cuffs, tearing through them like butter. “Where are we? What universe is this?”

“332.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking,” Craig spat back as he clasped his hands over his head. He resisted the urge to start pounding on his own skull. He wanted to dig his fingers inside and pull the A.I. out.

“I’m afraid that physically damaging your own brain will do little to alleviate your anger, Craig. However,” the A.I. continued as his form suddenly appeared only two meters away, “if you wish, you’re more than welcome to pummel me in this form.”

“What is this?” Craig asked with a snarl.

“A hallucination.”

“What do you mean?” Craig demanded. “You mean…I’m imagining you?”

“No, I am quite real, but I’m accessing the region of your brain that is responsible for hallucinations. It is a major component of the mind’s eye technology. The hallucination is visual, auditory, and also tangible, so if you punch me, your brain will make you feel as though your fist has made contact with my jaw.”

“That sounds tempting,” Craig replied, nodding enthusiastically at the thought.

“I’m ready when you are,” the A.I. said in his typical matter-of-fact tone. He closed his eyes and tilted his jaw so Craig could hit him at an angle that would level the most force and, in theory, produce the most satisfaction.

Craig wound up, but after a couple hesitations, he abandoned the effort.

“Are you sure, Craig? Your system is rife with enormous amounts of cortisol and adrenaline. This would likely help you alleviate some of it and I would not feel any discomfort.”

“That’s the problem,” Craig replied. “I want somebody to feel some discomfort.”

“Your anger is understandable.”

“Where are we?” Craig repeated his question.

“I’m sorry, Craig, but I do not feel comfortable relaying that information to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you will undoubtedly choose to interfere with this timeline, just as you did in the last.”

“And that’s bad, why? Don’t tell me you’re siding with the Purists.”

“Regardless of the possible implications for the history of this universe and the multiverse at large, the greater concern is that the Purists will expect you to interfere—and they’ll be waiting.”

“Hold on,” Craig responded, as something in the A.I.’s explanation did not resonate with him. “How can the Purists be here? I thought we just abandoned them in the last universe.”

“We did. However, we have to assume they will locate your Planck platform and follow us here.”

Craig began shaking his head as he paced away.

“Be careful,” the A.I. warned once again.

“I want an explanation. What the hell is going on? How are we hopping from one universe to another?”

“Certainly. As I said earlier, explanations are my forte. We are using the Planck platform to concentrate enormous amounts of energy at one point, thereby manipulating Planck energy and causing space and time to become unstable. In the midst of that forced instability, a bubble forms. The bubble acts as a gateway to a parallel universe.”

“A bubble?”

“It lasts only for a microsecond, which is why you don’t see it and why, to you, it appears as though you have instantly traveled to another universe.”

“So, you’re saying you discovered parallel universes?”

“In tandem with the researchers at our facility, yes.”

“But…but how can parallel universes exist?”

“They’ve been incorporated into membrane theory for decades, Craig. However, once humanity attained access to an artificial intelligence with sufficient power not only to process the enormous amounts of data already available, but also to creatively concoct experiments at a rate that humans simply couldn’t match before, it was only a matter of time before evidence was uncovered. The universe, Craig, is really a multiverse, floating in an infinite darkness known as the bulk , and is only one of an infinite number of parallel universes.”

“Impossible,” Craig replied, mesmerized.

The A.I.’s eyebrow arched quizzically. “The evidence is all around you.”

“I know. I know, but…damn.” Craig sat on the dusty floor and rested his elbows on his knees. “I just…I’ve never felt so…lost.”

“You would prefer to believe that our universe exists alone?”