Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“You’re assuming that what happened on my world was similar to what happened on other worlds.”

“No, you’re right: your world is unusual. But you’re not very different from all the other humans who evolved on millions of other universes…”

“We didn’t evolve.”

“Really?”

“Really. We were created.”

“Is this part of your religion?”

“Yes. But it really happened. When the Antecessors abandoned their bodies, they left us behind to stay upon the Earth. We didn’t have a human form before that.”

“You have history going that far back?”

He smiled. “No. We have mitochondrial DNA. When we compared samples from across the world, they all dated back to the same mitochondrial genome about three thousand years ago. So, at that point, everyone on my world had identical mitochondria. Which would be very strange if we’d evolved continuously over millions of years.”

He had a point; that was very strange indeed. If it was true. “So you believe your species was artificially created?”

“I know it was.”

“And now you say the people who created you have… reclaimed your species?”

“They set us free.”

“When we arrived on your world, we found no evidence of these ‘Antecessors’. Where do you think they went to?”

“If they don’t want to speak to you, then you probably won’t find them.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to speak to us?”

“Perhaps you’re not ready to hear what they have to say.”

“And what is that?”

The only word to describe his smile was ‘beatific’. “We don’t have to be bound to these bodies. We can be like them. You can, too. And once you make the change, everything else, all the conflict, all the fighting, all the atrocity… just goes away.”

He really believed it, and probably pitied me for not doing so. “You want what happened on your world to happen to everyone?”

“Only if you want it to.”

“Did your people want it to happen?”

“Once the Antecessors showed us the way.”

I was very glad these sessions were confidential. If Hub Security got hold of this, they’d put Iokan back in quarantine in a heartbeat. Proposing genocide as a solution to our problems is worrying enough, but when the person doing so has lived through it once already, Security wouldn’t think twice.

I decided it was time to spell out the real problem. “Can I show you something?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”

I tapped my pad, the room darkened and the window wall dissolved into an image of a half-transparent human brain. “This is you,” I said.

“I can see the resemblance,” he said, still lighthearted.

“When you were found, we did a complete scan of your neural functions.” I tapped the controls. Areas at the front and back of the brain lit up, tracing a cable nest of signals through the two areas. “We found increased activity in the temporal and parietal lobes. For most species — and yours as well, we think — that means you’re very spiritual. In fact, it’s so strong it suggests a recent and very intense religious experience. Possibly from natural causes, but we’re concerned it might have been artificially stimulated.”

He smiled at me again, pitying me even more. “Well, I did tell you. They touched me and I understood.”

“Yes. You’ve been very honest with us. So I should be honest with you. You see, the IU has a very clear policy when it comes to religion and spirituality.”

“Let me guess. You don’t like it.”

“We don’t think it reflects the real, physical universe. We know a lot of people honestly feel there’s a world beyond this one, but we’ve never found anything to show that gods or spirits exist outside the human imagination. And the fact that it’s possible to create religious feeling just by stimulating these parts of the brain… well.”

“And yet I saw what I saw.”

“You saw the population of a whole world kill themselves. And your mind may have been recently interfered with. You must understand that we find this troubling…”

Was that a slightly uncomfortable look on his face? “I can see how you’d find that… difficult.”

“Can I ask another difficult question?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Certainly.”

“How did your wife and child die?”

He paused a moment, but I didn’t see any sadness or anguish. Instead, he smiled again, with a faraway look. “Szilmar cut her wrists.”

“And your son?”

“Ghiorgiu. He was too young. She did it for him.”

“How?”

“Smothering.”

“So… Szilmar, your wife, murdered your son, Ghiorgiu. She deliberately smothered him. And then she slashed her own wrists. And you found their bodies. Is that right?”

He hesitated. “I can see how you’d find that difficult to understand. But they’re not dead. Only transformed.”

“Okay, but let’s think about how this looks for a moment. How do you think we’d interpret it, given that we have no evidence of these Antecessors?”

He sighed, but at least he was willing to discuss it. “If I were to make your assumptions…”

“Go ahead.”

“Then I might think that an alien force from another universe murdered my species.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

He seemed troubled now. “But that’s wrong.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“But you see why we’re concerned.”

“You think I’m mad,” he said, shaking his head.

“I think something was done to you that changed your perceptions.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Some totalitarian societies manipulate religious feeling to control their people. It happens.”

“You’re suggesting someone did this to billions of people just to make them kill themselves? Now that’s ridiculous. Why not just kill them, if that’s what they wanted?”

“I don’t know. But something was definitely done to you, and we want to help you get better.”

“So if the whole thing is in my mind, why don’t you just reverse it? If it’s so easy…”

“Well first of all, we have to ask your permission. And even if you gave us your permission, it isn’t easy. Your species is reasonably average but we still wouldn’t want to risk psychosurgery.”

“That seems convenient.”

“It really isn’t. Because what’s likely to happen is going to be a lot harder on you.” There. Let him think about that for a moment, and become curious.

“What exactly do you think’s going to happen to me?”

“Religious revelation fades over time. If you live on a world where religion is normal, then you slowly go back to being an ordinary believer. But in a place like this, where your views will constantly be challenged, you’ll probably find it very difficult to stay certain. And it’s usually worse when the religious experience is artificially stimulated.”

I might as well have told him the sky had turned green for all that he believed me. The pity returned to his voice. “You really think that’s going to happen?”

“Look,” I said, indicating the wall display, “we monitored your brain over a period of about a week. Compare the two images.” I split the screen and showed two pictures of his brain.

“No change,” he said.

“It’s very subtle. Look at the numbers.” I increased the size of the readouts showing the strength of relevant neural impulses. A very slight reduction was clear. “In a single week, the activity reduces in intensity by a tenth of a tenth of a per cent. Not much, but enough, and it’s not a statistical error. Would you like me to scan your brain now and see how much further it’s gone?”

He looked closely at the displays and considered them for a moment before turning back to me. “Well. That seems quite conclusive. May I ask something else?”