The future looked bright, thought Basil as he watched his superior, Awiti, leave Leonardo's lab early, fear in her eyes. They had just had a low-voiced, tense conversation. The Stellar Fleet had issued new orders: instead of calculating the routes to new colonies from Ariel-the emigration hub-planet known as the Gate of the Far-optimal routes now had to be mapped between Lodovico and Xeno worlds.
- "Look into it, Basil. Lodovico is on red alert. They killed children over there."
- "That's just rumors."
- "Absolutely not. And the guy who ran the project? It's the Aleph, I'm sure of it," she said, running her hand over her shaved head.
- "You know, seats here are precious. If you're not comfortable, go back to Prospero. Do some math. Or take a vacation. You'd make room for someone who dreams of working here."
- "And you? You're going to calculate these routes?"
- "The pay is good. I want to buy an apartment on Earth. Maybe in France? Or Greece, where Pythagoras and Euclid walked!"
- "You don't understand a thing!"
And so she had left, slamming the door on its hinges, which bounced and remained ajar. Basil unbuttoned a flap of his white hooded lab coat. Let her go. He didn't work for the paycheck or for a shitty apartment.
From the Aleph's very first words, he had understood the project. Yes, every man would be a lord or a god in the years to come, ruling not over a cramped, overpriced twelve-square-meter flat but over entire solar systems. Some nights, he dreamed of it... he thought of the Aleph telling him: there are two hundred thousand billion billion stars in the universe, each man shall have his own. Finally, instead of a falsely egalitarian society, where there were still ultra-rich people from nowhere, like that Prince of Masmak, and poor folks dying on Ur or in the slums of Prospero, this idea offered fighting and conquering with no sharing. "Carpe Universum," he had sworn, arm raised, to his brothers, in a secret club at the University of Zurich dedicated to the cult of the Grasp.
The Aleph needed those routes, and with Awiti gone, he would be the only one able to provide them. He would be his guide, his compass, his North Star... the reward would match the value of this essential service. Awiti was mediocre, mediocre-she was returning to her rightful place in the void of History.
He looked at his reflection in the window, which overlooked the black entrails of the computer-planet, five hundred meters below. He would grow out his red hair, lose his belly, and sculpt a beard of ancient times. He would be the Erik the Red of the new humanity.
The door closed on its own and slammed. As if by magic, a young woman and two Xenos appeared. A young woman pointing a fucking weapon at him, and a mantis-like Xeno ready to slice him up. Surprised, he fell to the ground screaming that he didn't want to die.
- "Silence, or I'll kill you," she said, and he had to place both hands over his mouth that was still screaming, just to obey. Then he saw the little Xeno or bunny plush toy on her belt and burst into hysterical laughter for no reason.
The young woman walked over to the work terminal, a large screen-table. It displayed: time remaining for computation: 10 hours. She pressed cancel, then confirm.
- "WHAT!" screamed Basil. "It's been running for fifteen hours!"
- "Are you done whining now?"
- "This is a military zone... I work directly for the Aleph, got it? FOR THE ALEPH! He could reduce you to a heap of dead flesh just by thinking it! He's stronger than the Transients!"
- "Oh yeah?"
She pointed her rifle at him.
- "Go on then, call him. I actually have a few words for that clown."
He tried to move toward the door, but Alpha stepped in his way. He moved toward an LE terminal, and the Xeno sliced the machine in two.
The input interface for the computation was complex: it displayed Prospero's position, and one had to "travel virtually" through Drift to the planet that was geographically closest to the theoretical destination. Then input a three-dimensional relative position with a date for that relative position.
- "Yeah, this interface is for grown-ups. Let me handle it," said Basil.
- "No need. I got this."
- "Kid, only math PhDs handle these calculations…"
She pulled a 3D marker from a drawer and began running reference-frame calculations under Basil's gaze, who, most of the time, used the terminal's internal tools or even the LEs.
- "Which school did you go to?"
- "I learned with the LEs. And you?"
- "Zurich, MIT, Prospero."
- "Never heard of them. What did you study in math?"
- "You don't know Zurich... Topology, Set Theory, and I did a thesis on absolute infinities. Then the standard track: Theoretical Infinitics, Theoretical Uberkraft, and of course, Veritatis."
- "And you dropped out like everyone else?"
- "I don't think Veritatis is meant to have a clear and unified theory. It's not an answer or a question. It's an aspect. For me, it belongs in the same drawer as prime number distribution or Goldbach's conjecture."
- "Veritatis is incomprehensible but not unpredictable - the exact opposite of chaos theory."
- "Excuse me... are you really self-taught?"
She had finished her calculations and entered her results. A loud alarm sounded, followed by infernal scraping noises. Then, the sounds of gears. The computer-planet was working. Estimated computation time: 3 hours, said the terminal.
- "Yeah, and I even have to deal with guys like you. Can you imagine if I were at Zurich or MIT, whatever those are?"
- "They're good universities. Maybe you could join them."
She tossed him the 3D marker.
- "Teach me set theory. We've got 3 hours."
- "That's not much."
- "Do your best."
Basil sighed. It had been a long time since he'd done math with a marker. Since he'd done math at all, really: Leonardo hired the best so they could fully understand what was going on, but their skills were underused here. He took great pleasure in explaining the basics of Set Theory. Even though she had a rifle slung over her shoulder, they caught themselves laughing together: Set Theory was full of wonders, especially about infinities-some infinities being smaller than others.
The calculation finished, and Ada noted the Drift coordinates.
- "We're not done with you. What's your name? I need you to walk me back to the hangar, in case I need someone to help me open doors discreetly."
He gave her his name and asked for permission to restart the computations ordered by the Stellar Fleet. Since he had been nice and Ada didn't want him to get in trouble, she agreed.
He even proved more than cooperative, as he showed her another, little-used path. They needed to put on space vacuum suits. He found two in a storage locker.
This alternative path was fascinating: a long walkway with two railings stretched between the lab and the hangars. Above them, the stars. All around, the horizon of metals from Leonardo's entangled rails. Below, opening onto a terrifying void, the infinite interlacing of the transient hyperstructure.
Basil pointed out to Ada a sphere that was about to pass right beneath them. With the right timing and a bit of courage, he lifted her and threw her into the void, under Alpha's frozen stare. She vanished within seconds, screaming over comms-which he cut immediately.
"Carpe Universum, bitch," he whispered, trembling, staring into the void.