David Zindell - Neverness

The light goes out.

– That was not my question. I was just thinking … wondering how –

Ask your questions.

It seemed I had to be very careful in asking my questions, else the Entity might play games with me. I thought for a long time before asking a question whose answer might hint at many other mysteries. I licked my dry teeth and asked aloud a question which had bothered me since I was a boy: ‘Why is there a universe at all; why is there something rather than nothing?’

That I would like to know, too.

I was angry that She hadn’t answered my question, so without thinking very carefully I blurted out, ‘Why is the Vild exploding?’

Are you certain this is what you really want to know? What would it profit you to discover the ‘why,’ if you do not know how to stop the Vild from exploding? Perhaps you should recast your question.

– All right, how can I – can anyone – stop the Vild from exploding?

Presently, you cannot. The secret of healing the Vild is part of the higher secret. You must discover this higher secret by yourself.

More riddles! More games! Would She answer any of my questions simply, without posing riddles? I did not think so. Like a Trian merchant-queen guarding her jewels, She seemed determined to guard Her precious wisdom. Half in humour, half in despair, I said, ‘The message of the Ieldra – they spoke in riddles, too. They said the secret of man’s immortality lay in the past and in the future. What did they mean? Exactly where can this secret be found?’

I did not really expect an answer, at least not an intelligible answer, so I was shaken to my bones when the godvoice sounded within me.

The secret is written within the oldest DNA of the human species.

– The oldest DNA of … what is that, then? And how can the secret be decoded? And why should it be –

You have asked your three questions.

– But you’ve answered with riddles!

Then you must solve your riddles.

– Solve them? To what end? I’ll die with my solutions. There’s no escaping an infinite tree, is there? How can I escape?

You should have thought to ask me that as your last question.

– Damn you and your games!

There is no escape from an infinite tree. But are you sure the tree is not finite?

Of course I was sure! Wasn’t a pilot weaned on the Gallivare mapping theorems? Hadn’t I proved that the Lavi set could not be embedded in an invariant space? Didn’t I know an infinite tree from a finite one?

Have you examined your proof?

I had not examined my proof. I did not like to think that there could be a flaw in my proof. But neither did I want to die, so I faced my ship-computer. I entered the thoughtspace of the manifold. Instantly there was a rush of crystal ideoplasts in my mind, and I began building the symbols into a proof array. While the number storm swirled, I made a mathematical model of the manifold. The manifold opened before me. Deep in dreamtime, I reconstructed my proof. It was true, the Lavi set could not be embedded in an invariant space. Then a thought occurred to me as if from nowhere: Was the Lavi set the correct set to model the branchings of the tree? What if the tree could be modelled by a simple Lavi set? Could the simple Lavi set be embedded in an invariant space?

I was trembling with anticipation as I built up a new proof array. Yes, the simple Lavi could be embedded! I proved it could be embedded. I wiped sweat from my forehead, and I made a probability mapping. Instantly the trillions of branches of the tree narrowed to one. So, it was a finite tree after all. I was saved! I made another mapping to the point-exit near a blue giant star. I fell out into realspace, into the swarm of the ten thousand moon-brains of the Solid State Entity.

You please me, my Mallory. But we will meet again when you please me more. Until then, fall far, Pilot, and farewell.

To this day I wonder at the nature of the original tree imprisoning me. Had it really been a finite tree? Or had the Entity somehow – impossibly – changed an infinite tree into a finite one? If so, I thought, then She truly was a goddess worthy of worship. Or at least She was worthy of dread and terror. After looking out on the warm blue light of the sun, I was so full of both these emotions that I made the first of many mappings back to Neverness. Though I burned with strange feelings and unanswered questions, I had no intention of ever meeting Her again. I never again wanted to be tested or have my life depend upon chance and the whimsy of a goddess. Never again did I want to hear the godvoice violating my mind. I wanted, simply, to return home, to drink skotch with Bardo in the bars of the Farsider’s Quarter, to tell the eschatologists and Leopold Soli, and the whole city, that the secret of life was written within the oldest DNA of man.

For us, humanity was a distant goal toward which all men were moving, whose image no one knew, whose laws were nowhere written down.

Emil Sinclair, Holocaust Century Eschatologist

My homecoming was as glorious as I hoped it would be, marred only by Leopold Soli’s absence from the City. He was off mapping the outer veil of the Vild, so he could not appreciate my triumph. He was not present in the Lightship Caverns with the other pilots, cetics, tinkers and horologes as I emerged from the pit of my ship. How I wish he had seen them lined up on the dark, steel walkway along the row of ships, to see their shocked faces and listen to their furious, excited whispers when I announced that I had spoken with a goddess! Would he have clapped his hands and bowed his head to me as even the most sceptical and jaded of the master pilots did? Would he have honoured me with a handshake, as did Stephen Caraghar and Tomoth and his other friends?

It was too bad he wasn’t there when Bardo broke from the line of pilots and stomped towards me with such reckless enthusiasm that the whole walkway shook and rang like a bell. It was quite a moment. Bardo threw out his huge arms and bellowed, ‘Mallory! By God, I knew you couldn’t be killed!’ His voice filled the Caverns like an exploding bomb, and he suddenly whirled to address the pilots. ‘How many times these past days have I said it? Mallory’s the greatest pilot since Rollo Gallivare! Greater than Rollo Gallivare, by God if he isn’t!’ He looked straight at Tomoth who was watching his antics with his hideous, mechanical eyes. ‘ You say he’s lost in dreamtime? I say he’s schooning, scurfing the veils of the manifold, and he’ll return when he’s damn ready. You say he’s lost in an infinite loop, snared by that bitch of a goddess called the Solid State Entity? I say he’s kleining homeward, tunnelling with elegance and fortitude, returning to his friends with a discovery that will make him a master pilot. Tell me, was I right? Master Mallory – how I like the sound of it! By God, Little Fellow, by God!’

He came over to me and gave me a hug that nearly cracked my ribs, all the while thumping my back and repeating, ‘By God, Little Fellow, by God!’

The pilots and professionals swarmed around me, shaking hands and asking me questions. Justine, dressed sleekly in woollens and a new black fur, touched my forehead and bowed. ‘Look at him!’ she said to my mother, who was weeping unashamedly. (I felt like weeping myself.) ‘If only Soli could be here!’

My mother forced her way through the swarm, and we touched each other’s forehead. She surprised me, saying, ‘I’m so tired. Of these formal politenesses.’ Then she kissed me on the lips and hugged me. ‘You’re too thin,’ she said as she dried her eyes on the back of her gloves. She arched her bushy eyebrows and wrinkled her nose, sniffing. ‘As thin as a harijan. And you stink. Come see me. When you’ve shaved and bathed and the akashics are through with you. I’m so happy.’