Brian Aldiss - White Mars

“But—”

“Let me finish, please. I must make the point that there is absolutely no evidence that the proximity of a conscious human being has any effect whatsoever on the functioning of the ring. In fact, as I understand it, the argon 36 in the ring’s superfluid is geared specifically to detect the monopole gravitational effects of a HIGMO—not of a brainwave!”

Kathi seemed unmoved. She said, “We don’t know what the appropriate quantum superposition parameters are for Chimborazo. Chimborazo is built on an entirely different scale from us humans. Very possibly it has the ability to tune its own internal mental activities so as to relate specifically to the ring.”

“Absurd!” exclaimed Jimmy Gonzales Dust from the back row of boffins.

She turned to him, saying mildly, “Absurd, is it? For an alien intellect twenty-five kilometres high? How dare we presume to suggest its limitations?”

“But you are speculating wildly,” Jimmy protested.

“I’d say that at this juncture, a little wild speculation is in order,” Dreiser said. “Continue, Kathi.”

“My speculation is based on fact, by the way,” Kathi said, with something of her old tartness in her voice. I remembered her fondness for correcting those who were basically on her side. What her relationship was with Dreiser was difficult to guess. “We know that a mentatrope works, but not why. The discovery of the Reynaud-Damien effect was an accident. The implication was that consciousness has a subtle influence on the reduction of a quantum state.”

“I don’t accept that, Kathi,” Jimmy said, cutting in. “However, one result of the French guys’ researches was the development of a CPS detector.”

Her eyes flashed irritation, but she said with disarming mildness, “And the CPS detector led to the development of the mentatrope for psychiatric purposes. Thanks for your contribution, Jimmy. At least we do know that a mentatrope has something in common with the ring, In each case the important element is a quantum state-reduction phenomenon. I’ve looked into the history of the subject. You people, like Jimmy here, are too sunk in ring-technology to remember where it all comes from.”

Jimmy broke in indignantly. “We all know about quantum state-reduction. That was sorted out early this century with the definitive Walter Heitelman experiment.”

Kathi studied him for a moment, gave a brief nod, smiled, and said, changing tack, “And there were some ideas put forth last century, suggesting various possible connections between consciousness and quantum state-reduction. They all petered out because of lack of experimental confirmation, in most cases because of a direct conflict with observation. But the general idea itself still remains, at least in principle. There were heated discussions in the scientific literature, most of it forgotten.

“I’d say that if you put these ideas together—bearing in mind that the glitches in the ring are indeed state-reduction effects—there’s a plausible case for a connection between the ring glitches we’ve recorded and Chimborazo’s consciousness.”

Thorgeson gave a curt laugh. “You’ll be telling us next that the ring will reveal ‘a soul’.”

“Souls are even harder to define than consciousness. But, after all—why not?”

Clapping his hands, Dreiser interposed. “The next obvious move is to perform a mentatropic examination of the ring. I agree with Kathi that these glitches we’ve been observing imply that the Watcher of the Universe has already transferred some ‘consciousness effects’ to the ring. We must find out if that is the case.

“And, by the way, this notion that the ring is ‘pregnant’ or ‘getting ready to conceive’ is just a silly joke—which Jimmy probably started!

“We do not yet understand the powers of Chimborazo. We have discussed this endlessly, and think the life form is probably benign and even defensive. Its collective mind may be immensely powerful. Maybe it could wipe out all our minds with one blast of directed thought; but shelled animals are generally pacific, if terrestrial examples are anything to go by.” He paused to let this sink in.

“One explanation for its camouflage may be that it long ago sensed other consciousnesses on Earth—even across the great matrix distances separating the two planets—and was fearful. Despite its great bulk, it concealed itself as best it could.”

Someone in the audience asked what Dreiser would do if it was found that the ring was acquiring elements of consciousness.

He stroked his little moustache thoughtfully before answering. “If that does turn out to be the case, we’ll have to rethink the whole Smudge experiment. To turn off the refrigeration would be tantamount to murder. Or, let’s say, abortion … It might also be dangerous with Chimborazo towering above us! It’s a dilemma…

“The ring would no longer be a viable tool in the search for the Omega Smudge. The UN authorities, supposing they still exist, would not be happy about that. On the other hand, we would stand on the brink of another great discovery. We would be on the way to understanding what consciousness is all about—what causes it, sustains it…”

Kathi had a word to add. “Just to respond to Charles Bondi’s earlier remark. Of course, if the ring were to be kept going, there could never be any terraforming permitted…”

My thoughts were so overwhelmed by speculation that I could not sleep. I was walking down East Spider (late Dyson Street) in dim-out, when the unexpected happened. Two masked men jumped from the shadows, armed with either pick helves or baseball bats or similar weapons.

“This is for you, you bloody titox, for ruining religion and normal human life!” one shouted as they pitched into me. I managed to strike one of them in the face. The other caught me a blow across the base of my skull. I fell.

I seemed to fall for ever.

When I roused, I was in the hospital again, being wheeled along a corridor. I tried to speak but could not.

Cang Hai and Alpha were waiting for me. Alpha was sitting on the floor, watching her mother bounce a ball again and again against the wall. I saw how Cang was still something of a child, using the excuse of her daughter to play childishly. She stopped the bouncing rather guiltily, scooped Alpha up in her arms, and approached me.

“My dear little daughter,” I tried to say.

“You need rest, Tom, dear. You’ll be okay and we’ll be here.”

Mary Fangold came briskly along, said hello to Alpha and directed my carriage into a small room, talking meanwhile, ignoring Cang Hai. The room became full of tiny specks of light, towards which I seemed to float.

With an effort I roused, to see Cang Hai close by. A spark of anger showed in her eyes. She said, determinedly and loudly, “Anyhow, as I was saying, my Other in Chengdu told me of a dream. An orchestra was playing—”

“Perhaps we’d better leave Mr. Jefferies alone just now,” said Mary, sweetly. “He needs quiet. He will be fully restored in a day or so.”

“I’ll go soon enough, thank you. You could use that symphony orchestra as a symbol of cooperative evolution. Many men and women, all with differing lives and problems, and many different instruments—they manage to sublimate their individualities to make beautiful harmony. But in this dream, they were playing in a field and eating a meal at the same time. Don’t ask me how.”

“Would you like a shower, Mr. Jefferies?” Mary asked. I gestured to her to let Cang Hai rattle on for a moment.

“And you see, Tom, I thought about the first ever restaurant—no doubt it was outdoors—which opened in China centuries ago. It was a cooperative act making for happiness. You had to trust strangers enough to eat with them. And you had to eat food cooked by a cook who maybe you couldn’t see, trusting that it was not poisoned … Wasn’t that restaurant a huge step forward in social evolution…?”