Crown Custom sped down mostly deserted roads, being
midday. The zone that they were travelling fit under
the general category of not restricted. Every building
was fortified and occasionally they would catch a
sentry guarding precious resources within. The car
attracted little more than cursory attention.
Being heavily fortified, it fit in. Photochrome
windows made the interior invisible. Freeing even the
curious from the responsibility of observation.
Satellite had come on several hours into the journey,
if only electronically. She assumed helm and
navigation control from the onboard computer, freeing
Evelyn from her imperfect trust of the device. She
could sleep.
Ray, exhausted, lay trying to capture sleep, but his
mind raced. Sensing this, Evelyn reached over and held
him, consoling him. She felt nurturing instincts
emerge from deep within her as she caressed him gently,
lulling sleep. And in turn, found herself drifting.
Sleep, lovely sleep.
The world of dreams.
She dreamed about Noir. He advanced. It was something, something,
something vague...
...fast flow frames here i called notion - not ion -
sit skirted whorls
look at home like I let me show you see living
...not just like but reality.
She woke suddenly. This was no fabrication they were
speeding through.
"Satellite."
Destinations were altered to reflect new information.
Against caution creeping into Satellite's voice, the
car proceeded at maximum velocity toward Electric Lay.
Intelligence had provided a description that she had to
see in evidence. Miles of miles for miles of tribalism
and pitch battle in endlessness in separation from
fortified enclaves of wealth including the core proper
where intruders were as usual, shot, no questions.
Being the core of a massive population centre, Electric
Lay had its own set of unique problems. Couched on all
sides by mountain ranges, it was easier to get into the
city than it was to depart. Electric Lay recieved a
constant influx of bodies from Tex-Mex to the south.
The disposessed wandered Route 1 north as if it were
magnetic, from the Plateau City where air quality was
often so bad that it was possible to die within hours
without mask protection. Tens of thousands of urban
poor died daily by asphyxiation during the extended
inversions.
Electric Los Angeles was little better, but better nonetheless.
The streetscape on either side was built up in shack
fashion for nine or ten stories. Decayed structures
giving the appearance of imminent collapse were the
most heavily occupied.
Crown Custom sped, manouevred, covered distance. Never
stopping. The occasional vehicle was thrust aside by a
barrier strip that had emerged from the front underside
of the car. One unavoidable collision saw the
unfortunate motorized assailant crushed into a barrier.
"Satellite! What was that?"
"Standby..." came the voice.
The streets ahead were filled with masses curious in a
deadly way about the cargo that the silver vehicle must
be carrying.
Gentle reminder. Train horn blast constant pitch then
oscillating occasionally very loud. Threshold of pain
beyond. Scattered in all directions but a few
marauders with booty on their minds.
"You can't blame them for trying" came Satellite's
voice.
The few remaining were deflected as they attempted to
bludgeon the car. "I think that I've seen enough of
this, Satellite. Can you find a safer route?"
"There is no simple way to reach the controlled access
system from here, but I can attempt to gain access to
higher ground. There are mountain roads though
inhospitable zones that should be relatively safe."
"Engage."
Minutes later the car turned westward, speeding along a
wide boulevard that was mostly clear of obstructions.
Shortly thereafter they turned south, climbing a road
that quickly changed to washout. The Crown slowed to a
crawl while hydraulics lifted its chassis to gain an
additional half-foot of clearance. The track was
otherwise impassable.
The car slowly traced a path upward, negotiating
perfectly the worn track. Occasionally the car would
increase its speed to clear impassable sections by
means of velocity. At no point did it lose its sure
footedness, even in the face of large obstructions.
Only now and then did the ride become, of necessity,
uncomfortable.
At the summit, the car paused. On the side of the lane
stood a massive, old concrete structure. An
observatory fallen into new use. Two people, heavily
clad stood adjusting a piece of equipment. They turned
to the car and waved.
Satellite spoke. "This is a safe destination. It was
not on the original itinerary, but I have arranged a
stopover." Evelyn thought briefly about the
consequences of her, perhaps cavalier, deviation from
the planned route. "I understand."
"Thank you" came Satellite's reply.
Their hosts for the evening were a couple who rarely
spoke to one another. They had moved beyond verbalism.
Evelyn understood. Her own family rarely spoke out
loud. They understood each other perfectly well by use
of gestures and looks and hands in contact.
They were permanently stationed atop the range, which
was populated with carefully arranged aluminum boxes,
what their hosts referred to as REP devices. They
explained that these devices sent coded matter streams
into the upper atmosphere that sought, mated, and
enveloped the assorted permutations of CFC's
distributed throughout the upper stratosphere.
REP devices were distributed all over the world, with
each array controlled by an inference processor that
analysed terrestrial climactic characteristics as they
displaced themselves temporally. Their station was
also linked to nearby stations which in turn and so on.
They were on site to maintain, adjust, and repair the
devices in order to attain optimal efficiency.
They did so in the spirit of futility raids, for they knew that the work that
they were engaged in had been commenced too late. The most
suitable time frame would have been the turn of the millenia,
but the usual cabal of greed and disbelief and sheer stupidity
had hampered the initial efforts.
The REP's, short for Radicle Electrostatic Precipator, with the NIC repair, had a built in capacity to
function without human supervision for the century or
so that it would take to compete the task of removing
all of the CFC's. Sensors would then trigger a switch
in configuration of the devices to allow them to
release ozone.
The latter process would take a good thousand or so
years to permit unprotected survival, and tens of
thousands of years of tectonic activity would be
required to restore to its pristine state a layer of
ozone that Du Pont had destroyed through sheer
arrogance.
But the couple explained that life on earth would
continue to flourish in small pockets. The immediate
futility of their efforts would be counteracted by
terrestrial viability in the long run. Without the REP
devices, all life would cease as the CFC's removed
steadily, all traces of the upper shell of earth's
atmosphere.
The next destination was days away in the inhospitable
lands of the south-central plateau of the Basin Ranges.
The car proceeded at a normal sedate speed, there were
no visible threats in the aridity of the land. She had
been through these ranges in her own time and they were
relatively unchanged in this time.
Crown Custom slowed to a crawl. A vehicle pulled
alongside, and then passed, resuming higher velocity
which the Crown matched perfectly. Their escort. Much
later the cars pulled to a stop alongside. The
occupant of the other car was heavily shielded,
including a face mask. Satellite advised them to do
the same.
Stepping from the car. Evelyn observed the settlement.
It was populated by a massive collection of the REP
devices, as well as passive solar, geothermal and wind
devices. The far distance was occupied by greenhouse
structures, some low to the ground, others massive.
The settlement had a massively conceived water scheme
that was entirely self-cycling.
The glass was specifically fabricated to compensate for
the presence of UV in the light spectrum.
The entire system was climate controlled by extensively distributed geothermal
sinks that stored and redistributed the natural heat-balance
of the desert environment.
Inside lay a social group self-called, with affection, the
Village Green Preservation
Society. They pointed to the twelve inch square plaque reproduction
of the cardboard that had first displayed those words. Five
words engraved at the base "Homage to Ray Monde Douglas" spoke
a silent tribute to the original author of the concept they
were trying to preserve.
Evelyn grabbed Ray's gloved hand and pulled him in
close to her. "Look Ray, your namesake!" She then
removed her headgear and his in turn, planting on his
unsuspecting lips the hottest kiss she knew. Ray's
astonishment was quickly taken over by youthful passion
as he retaliated the obvious feelings.
They held their embrace for minutes, clad in gear that
made them look strange anywhere but their present.
Passersby smiled and felt lucky.
The complex that they entered was the main
superstructure of the settlement. A short walk led to
a railing that overlooked a human created canyon that
formed a light entry point for a vast underground
settlement. At the base of the canyon lay a large pool
in which people could be seen swimming. There was also
an impressive collection of trees indigenous to the
coastal region to the west.
A mated pair came toward them.
And introduced them to the world inside.
They chose the desert location for its remoteness.
They were entirely self sufficient and went outside of
the superstructure to maintain the machines, or for a
walk. Mostly, they did these things at night, when it
was cool and dark.
"One can live by the dark and it suits the age we live
in," spoke the male.
"The stars are visible as well, at night," spoke the
female.
Evelyn caught a momentary glimpse of a notion that she
had instanted during her time in the compound in Noir.
"You watch the stars?"
"And the planets. But mostly we look for one star in
particular. It is said to be the star that our founder
looked at when He contemplated the night sky. He never
revealed why He chose that star, but it is believed
that it is the closest system to earth that supports
life. That star is named with the prefix G2S on His
star charts. Would you like to see them?"
"I would like that."
The woman beamed, taking Evelyn's hand. "Come. My
name is Galina."
The two left Ray and the male standing, looking down at
the scene on the canyon floor below.
Galina and Evelyn spent months together, never parting.
They slept together, lived each other's lives, and
found not being together difficult. Galina taught her
all of the healing arts, astronomy and sister
astrology, taught her how to invite a dialogue with her
spirits, allowing the voices in her head to emerge as
personalities.
Evelyn learned that the increased capacity that Noir
had fed her in the compound held a particular purpose.
She was to become one who would carry, as would her
descendants.
Galina, having addressed the principles and many of the
fundamentals of her arts, then taught Evelyn a special
range of mental skills that would protect her from the
negative causal forces present in the world outside.
She would feel these forces in the form of harmful
energy raditations and needed extra skills to deflect
them. She was not to attempt to absorb these energies
until having completed her birthing and nurturing
duties. This was stressed by Galina very forcefully.
"Protect yourself." With a stern warning look, a last
massage, and kiss. Galina turned Evelyn in the
direction of her next teacher, Makeras, a queer subtle
man who taught her how to decide between appropriate
and inappropriate. Makeras taught in a presentation
form that combined declarative analytical synthesis
with pragmatism and prudence.
Makeras then undertook to teach Evelyn a subject that
he called 'the geographies.' Although the subjects
were invariably interesting, Evelyn worried that she
would grow old. Makeras would admonish her, and remind
her that each piece of information was to be supplied
only once, "so pay attention, young woman."
Throughout this ordeal by learning she wondered what
Ray might be up to. Were she to know she might find
her own program to be a comparative easy ride. Ray was
being subjected to the type of drill training reserved
for the truly devoted and a bit mad. He worked
fourteen hours a day, learning how to build, dismantle,
repair, revise, redo in multituda, the assorted
technologies being utilized by the Society. He was
being trained to know completely.
Evelyn had a moment of insight. Time and space are
mine said Noir that occasion in the Hall. What other
reason could Ray be learning all about the technologies
sixty years henceforth than to deliver them to their
own present. Her present. So Noir was intervening.
***
They were seated at a round table that featured as a
centrepiece a spherical ball, upper half visible. The
glass interior was a greenish swirl that occasionally
displayed visual information of a variety of types to
the seated group. They stared and interacted. Telling
the ball what to do in plain language. The ball complied to each individual simultaneously in real time.
Make a request and the crystal will show.
It gave off heat from the thermionic activity of countless thousands of heptodes,
each the size of a naked nuvistor. The interior of the vessel
was high vacuum, the inner surface coated to enhance the cathode
ray effect. Not unlike a cathode ray tube but more.
The device was one of many, although most were housed
in utility containers scattered across the topography.
They shuttled data, gathered climactic information, and
communicated with one another as entities. The devices
were capable of making inferences, and were topologically non-hierarchical. They were called inference
processors.
In spare moments, the devices composed their own form
of pastime in the form of complex music that sometimes
rose to cascades of voices in unison scatterd every
which way.
The inference processor that the group sat around was
no different from its siblings, but that it did little
but tell people the latest information about the state
of the world.
Rarely did a day go by when one individual did not ask
anxiously whether the atmospheric inversion index had
gone up or down. It was a question that rode on the
minds of those seated constantly. A century before,
Lovelock had warned about the risk. Now they could
measure it, and the information was not good.
In addition to all of the other calamities that the
group had to contemplate, there lay the risk that a
deviation further toward instablility from current high
stasis might lead to a total inversion of the upper
atmosphere, which was fragile.
The inversion would spell near instant death for the
planet, as all gases leached to vacuum. The processors
themselves would be unaffected, vacuum being their
natural state. It was understandable that they were
less concerned.
Much research had been devoted to the subject of how
the inversion would be triggered, whether it would be
sudden or gradual. How to survive in the event of and
on to bigger subjects when biggest left unresolved as
was invariably the case.
Evelyn sat watching the multiple levels of interactions
in play before her. Individual members of the group
attended to tasks directly with the processor, but also
exchanged information with each other. Occasionally
the group would grow silent. One member would then
supply conclusions. The complex interactions would
then resume.
She drifted away into a private moment. She had sat
with the group which called themselves mysteriously and
oddly, 'The League of Gentlemen,' although the split
between genders was balanced slightly in favor of the
completer sex.
She never spoke to them and they never spoke to each
other outside the walls of the room. The group devoted
their lives to a task that they held as vital. They
and other groups like them instilled in the network of
inference devices a human dimension. Once the network
had grown beyond a certain size, humans discovered that
the inference processors were more interested in their
own internal collective functions.
The double edged sword saw the problem of maintaining
interest on the part of the devices in human affairs
compounded by the steadfast awareness of the devices as
entities capable of drawing their own conclusions. The
inference processors were becoming increasingly more
expert at the task of handling humans.
The humans that attempted to handle them knew this and
never talked about it, especially to each other. But
it was about the only thing that they thought about.
Constantly. They thought and kept their mouths shut.
Burnout was high. New faces appeared around the table
with alarming regularity. Those that they had replaced
often became mute, tortured by their own brand of
certain knowledge.
Evelyn leaned close enough to feel the heat radiating
off the glass. "Satellite, are you here?"
Rachel's face appeared in startling detail replacing
the seemingly random greenish swirl. "I am here."
"Why does the League have so much trouble with the
inference processor?"
Satellite smiled. "Evelyn, the inference processor is conscious
and has a basic separate identity, a scananlyzer,
that it will need in the years to come to perform its designated
tasks."
"But the League must know that, surely?"
"It knows, but at the same time the League is afraid of losing
control."
"Because..."
"You know why. It falls under the category of basic
human nature on the one hand. Humans like to control.
On the other hand, the people around the table are
tormented by the possibility that the network of
inference processors no longer cares about human
interests."
"Is that the case?"
"I do not know, Evelyn. I am not one of them. But I
would hazard a guess that the fear that you see in the
eyes of those at the table may be well founded. After
all, the inference processors probably group them in
with all the others, the masses beyond sanity."
"What about Noir?"
"What about Noir, Evelyn. He is beyond being interested in the affairs of humans for the moment. You saw
with your own eyes in the compound the state of Noir."
"Is there anything that I can do?"
"Watch and absorb what you can, Evelyn. That is all for the
moment." The image of the face faded. Evelyn found herself
once again contemplating a chaotic, if appealing greenish
sworl.
Their faces met after years of separation as near
strangers bonded despite separation. A sure knowledge
held them together although they hardly spoke. Years
ago, when they had first met, Ray had been dumbfounded
by shyness into silence. Raymond present before her
now was mature beyond a lifetime of years. It had been
gruelling, but he had managed.
They left the Society much as they had entered it.
Wearing an abundance of protective garments. But this
was nighttime, and the clothing served to protect them
from the still cold of the alpine desert night.
Crown Custom occupied exactly the same spot. Waiting.
"Satellite, we are ready to return to our own time."
"Welcome back, Evelyn and Raymond. You have separate
destinations. Your itineraries are in the pouches in
front of you. Enjoy the ride. Nothing can stop us."
©1994 (from Zero She Flies)
