Stephen Baxter - Timelike Infinity

And those holes themselves would coalesce, into holes on the scales of galactic clusters and superclusters; from all across the universe the timelines would converge, merging at last into the great singularities.

But life would prevail, said Shira, continuing to exploit with ever-increasing efficiency the universe’s residual sources of energy. Such as the dim shining of the star-corpses, kept at a few degrees above absolute zero by the slow decay of protons.

And there would still be work to be done.

Black hole evaporation would continue, with the eventual shrinking and disappearance of event horizons even on the scale of galaxies and clusters of galaxies; and naked singularities would emerge into the spreading sweep of spacetime.

Perhaps the universe could not exist beyond the formation of a naked singularity. Perhaps the formation of such a flaw would cause the cessation of time and space, the ending of being.

"And perhaps," Shira said, "life’s purpose, in the later stages of the evolution of the universe, is to manipulate event horizons in order to prevent the formation of naked singularities."

"Ah." Parz smiled. "Another elegant idea. So our descendants might be entrained to work as Cosmic Censors."

"Or as Cosmic Saviors," Michael said dryly.

Harry asked, sounding awed, "How do you manipulate event horizons?"

"No doubt there are lots of ways," Michael said. "But even now we can imagine some fairly crude methods. Such as forcing black holes to merge before they get a chance to evaporate."

"The Wigner paradox is inescapable," Shira said. The chains of unresolved quantum states would build on and on, growing like flowers, extending into the future, until the observations of the cosmos-spanning minds to come rested on aeon-thick layers of history, studded with the fossils of ancient events. "At last," Shira said, her voice steady and oddly flat, "life will cover the universe, still observing, still building the regressing chains of quantum functions. Life will manipulate the dynamical evolution of the cosmos as a whole. One can anticipate the pooled resources of life exploiting even the last energy resource, the sheer energy of the expansion of spacetime itself…

"Consciousness must exist as long as the cosmos itself — for without observation there can be no actualization, no existence — and further, consciousness must become coextensive with the cosmos, in order that all events may be observed."

Parz laughed softly, wondering. "What a vision. Girl, how old are you? You sound a thousand years old."

But, Shira went on, the chains of quantum functions would finally merge, culminate in a final state: at the last boundary to the universe, at timelike infinity.

"And at timelike infinity resides the Ultimate Observer," Shira said quietly. "And the last Observation will be made—"

"Yes," Parz said, "and so collapsing all the chains of quantum functions, right back through time — through the wreckage of the galaxies, down to the present and on into history, past Wigner, his friend, the cat and its box — what a charming notion this is—"

"Retrospectively, the history of the universe will be actualized," Shira said. "But it cannot be realized until the final Observation." For the first time since resuming her seat she turned to Michael. "Do you understand the implications of this, Michael Poole?"

He frowned. "These ideas are staggering, of course. But you’ve gone one step further. Haven’t you, Shira? There’s still another hypothesis you’ve made."

"I… Yes." She bowed her head in an odd, almost prayerful attitude of respect. "It is impossible for us to believe that the Ultimate Observer will simply be a passive eye. A camera, for all of history."

"No," Michael said. "I think you believe that the Ultimate Observer will be able to influence the actualization. Don’t you? You believe that the Observer will have the power to study all the nearly infinite potential histories of the universe, stored in the regressing chains of quantum functions. And that the Observer will select, actualize a history that is — what?"

"Which is simply the most aesthetically pleasing, perhaps," Parz said in his dry, aged way.

"Which maximizes the potential of being," Shira said. "Or so we believe. Which makes the cosmos through all of time into a shining place, a garden free of waste, pain, and death." She lifted her head abruptly; the light from the data panel before her struck shadows in her face, and Michael was moved by the contrast between the skeletal gauntness of the girl’s intense face and the beauty — the power, the wistfulness — of her concepts.

Harry said, his voice heavy with wonder. "A god at the end of time. Is it possible?"

Michael found he wanted to reach the girl, and he tried to put tenderness into his voice. "I understand you now, I think," he said. "You believe that none of this — our situation here, the Qax Occupation of Earth, the Qax time invasion — is real. It’s all transitory, in a sense; we are simply forced to endure the motion of our consciousness along one of the chains of quantum functions that you believe will be collapsed, discarded, by your Ultimate Observer, in favor of—"

"Heaven," Harry said.

"No, nothing so crude," Michael said. He tried to imagine it, to look beyond the words. "Harry, if she’s right, the ultimate state — the final mode of being of the cosmos — will consist of global and local optimization. Of the maximizing of potential, everywhere and at every moment, from the beginning of time." Shining, Shira had said. Yes, shining would surely be a good word for such an existence… Michael closed his eyes and tried to evoke such a mode; he imagined this shoddy reality burning away to reveal the pure, clear light of the underlying optimal state.

Tears prickled gently at his closed eyes. If one were vouchsafed a glimpse of such a state, he thought, then surely one would, on being dragged back to the mire of this unrealized chain of being, go insane.

If this was the basis of the faith of the Friends, then no wonder the Friends were so remote, so intense — so uncaring of their everyday lives, about the pain and death of others. History as it existed was nothing more than a shoddy prototype of the global optimization to come, when the Ultimate Observer discarded all inferior world lines.

And no wonder then, he thought, the Friends were so leached of humanity. Their mystical vision had removed all significance from their own lives — the only lives they could experience, whatever the truth of their philosophy — and it had rendered them deeply flawed, less than human. He opened his eyes and studied Shira. He saw again the patient intensity that resided inside this fragile girl — and he saw now how damaged she was by her philosophy.

She was not fully alive, and perhaps never could be; he pitied her, he realized.

"All right, Shira," he said tenderly. "Thank you for telling me so much."

Parz sighed, almost wistfully; his small, closed face showed a refined distress. "But she hasn’t yet told us all of it. Have you, girl?" With an edge in his voice, he went on, "I mean, if you truly believe such a wondrous vision — that the history we have lived through, the present and future we must endure, are merely prototypes for some vast, perfect version that will one day be imposed on us from the end of time — then what is the Project all about? Why do you need to do anything to change your condition in the here-and-now? Why not simply endure this pain, let it end, and wait for it all to be put right at the end of things?"

She shook her head. "In my time, humans are helplessly subjugated by the Qax. We were able to assemble the resources for our rebellion — but it was only the fortuitous arrival of your ship from the past that gave us the opportunity to do so.