Кори Доктороу - Make Shift - Dispatches from the Post-Pandemic Future

“That’s what I miss now, her way of seeing things. I see the aurora here, in the winter, sometimes, but it’s just lights in the sky.

“We can’t really know, but that was probably what killed her, us going out there. The cancer wave that came afterwards, all those particles, messing with everyone’s DNA. I got lucky, roll of the dice. Your mother was fine, the Foundation rolled out the cancer vaccines by the time she started school. But your grandmother… “Grandfather looked away, at the choppy sea beyond the trees. “She drowned on dry land, in the end,” he said quietly. “Her lungs filled with fluid.”

Torsti stared at Grandfather. He didn’t know much about his grandmother, but her paintings and drawings were all over the cottage, small landscapes and quirky manga-style cartoons. He felt the terror of the churn’s black water rise in him again. To get rid of his disquiet, he chopped at the last log, hard. It flew apart violently, and the axe got stuck in the block.

“So that’s why,” Grandfather said.

“That’s why what?” Torsti asked.

“That’s why I don’t want your vaccine. I don’t need to see the future. AIs and space colonies and Dyson trees and all the things your Mom spends her days thinking about for the Long Reflection Committee. Lights in the sky, nothing more. I don’t need to see it.”

He got up. “Let’s gather these and get the fire going for you, hmm? It’s going to be cold at night.”

THE SAUNA SMELLED OF DRY WOOD IN A WAY THAT SEEMED TO RETAIN ITS WARMTH.It had a small front room with a low bed where Torsti had slept during previous island visits. It had one of Grandmother’s drawings, a tiny watercolor and ink of the view out toward the sea from the sauna window, framed by the wavebreakers.

“You’ll have to stay outside while I get the fire going,” Grandfather said. The old man went into the sauna itself and kneeled painfully by the stove, assembling kindling and wood into careful layers.

Reluctantly, Torsti got out of his way. He walked to the pier and looked out to the sea. As Grandfather had predicted, the wind had picked up. The trees on the cliffs danced, and heavy waves crashed against the breakers. It looked just like Grandmother’s painting, a window into the past.

So much would be lost when Grandfather died, entire worlds Torsti had never known. I have to find a way to do it, he thought. I have to bring him to the future with me. If I leave, I might never see him again.

It is just lights in the sky , Grandfather had said.

That’s the problem, Torsti thought. He can’t see the future. But maybe I can show him.

He went to the boat and picked up a coil of sturdy rope from its storage locker. Then he gathered a few round pebbles from the beach and went back to the sauna. Grandfather came out, dusting his hands.

“All right,” he said. “If you add a few logs before you go to sleep, you should be warm and snug now, even if the north wind blows.” There was a regretful look in his eyes. “It’s too bad we can’t actually use the sauna together. Shame to waste a good löyly.” Then he frowned, seeing Torsti’s expression. “What is it, boy?”

“I want to show you something,” Torsti said. “Let’s go up to the churn.”

THE HIISI’S CHURN LOOKED EVEN DEEPER AND DARKER IN THE FADING LIGHT.Slowly, Torsti walked right to its edge. The fear moved in him now, as if the deep water was reaching out from the churn with a cold hand and squeezing his heart.

He laid the coil of rope down on the ground and tied one end carefully around a boulder. Then he drew his hand back and tossed the first stone into the churn. It bounced off a wall and vanished into the black water.

“What are you doing?” Grandfather asked.

Torsti threw another stone. This time, the angle was better, and the stone actually caught on the grooves, spun around the churn bore before falling into the water.

“I want you to travel with me,” he said quietly. “Remember? It can take us anywhere.”

Grandfather watched him, eyes unreadable, almost invisible in the dim light.

“So let’s go to the future. A thousand years from now.”

He threw another stone. He was getting better at it now, and now the stone slid along the grooves almost a whole circuit. His palms sweated. The images from the simulations flashed in his head. Squeezing them hard like the stones in his hand, he forced them into words.

“Look,” he said, motioning Grandfather to come closer. “Here we are. Not many people live on Earth. Maybe you are still here, on the island, but when we come visit you, it’s from the artificial worlds in the asteroid belt, every one of them unique and different. I—I might have wings, since I live in a low gravity world, and I have to wear an exoskeleton to walk around. Mom is no longer just thinking about the future, she is building it. Dad is a mindweaver, trying to get big group minds to get along, helping them to find the balance between the parts and the whole. We still celebrate vaccine season. But now it’s just a ritual for family, like Christmas used to be.”

He threw another stone. This one was better: the round stone bounced and followed the grooves, almost all the way down.

He looked at Grandfather. The old man sat on a rock now, leaning his chin on his hands, watching Torsti.

“It’s a million years from now. Everybody comes back to Earth during vaccine season, once a century. There is no disease anymore, so the vaccines are memetic: ideas , entire systems of thought, ways of being, different kinds of consciousness. Mind vaccines against despair and war and fear.”

He looked up at the pale October stars. “The wormholes open in the Lagrange Points, and they come. Some—some come in ships; tiny ones, living spores that carry minds in molecules that then grow in soil and turn into bodies and minds; large ones, ones made from dark matter or with a black hole in the heart that can cross between galaxies. Others are already here, in virtual realities inside diamond machines; but they make bodies to visit Earth and the people here, because it’s vaccine season. So they can remember where they come from.”

Now Grandfather stood close. I’m not doing it right, Torsti thought. He still can’t see.

He gritted his teeth, strained to see the deep future and hefted the final stone.

Grandfather took his hand.

“Torsti,” he said gently. “It’s all right.” There was a smile under his mask. “You are a good boy, you really are. I know you can see these things, I know you can. You will do things I never imagined. And… it’s enough for me just to know that.

“Now, let’s go back. It’s getting cold. I’m going to make some food, and tomorrow I’ll take you home.”

The churn’s hollow voice mocked Torsti in his mind. You can imagine all the futures you want, boy. But they are not real. Only endless dark is real. Your Grandfather knows that. Nothing will exist. Only I will remain.

“No,” Torsti said. “I am going to show you.”

He withdrew his hand from his Grandfather’s and threw the last stone. It hit the grooves of the churn perfectly, spinning around the bore, rattling like a ball in a roulette wheel.

Then he jumped in after it.

For an instant, he was suspended in mid-air, could almost touch the walls of the churn. Maybe it is really a wormhole, he thought. Then the water rose to meet him and pulled a cold hand over his head.

Torsti had never learned to swim, in spite of Mom and Dad’s attempts. So he just lifted his arms and floated, disappearing beneath the surface. Water filled his mouth and lungs. It was like breathing in cold space. The dark filled him, and suddenly it was like he was hollow, a container for the universe itself.