Part 35 (2/2)
Take what happened when matter fell in-did it go all the way to the frightful singularity that lay at the ”bottom” of the hole, and so get chewed up? We thought so, but were not sure.
Could the twisted s.p.a.ce-time around a spinning hole, and inside it, lead to fundamental new properties-say, worm-holes? Not sure.
At the core, physics smeared into topology, the study of surfaces, shapes. Geometry ruled.
Near the innermost regions of a rotating hole, snug up against the singularity, the laws of quantum mechanics object quite profoundly to infinities. Physics had for decades posted a want ad at this boundary: NEW THEORY NEEDED. APPLY WITHIN. But to properly describe this realm demanded a deep view of quantum gravity, which still-despite much work and false prophets-eluded them all.
Amy had hit a conceptual wall with Arno. Talk between them dwindled and they stared out at the pelting fat dollops of rain. A somber mood descended.
”Perhaps the primary point,” Kingsley said, ”is that this simulation of Channing is flying into the utterly unknown. The only evidence of her deeds will be what happens to the Eater.”
”She'll die,” Amy said.
”She knew that going in,” Arno said flatly, apparently glad to find a tough-guy line he could use.
”It may be easier for us, when we speak to Benjamin-if we can even do that-to use 'it' rather than 'her,'” Kingsley said.
”Good psychology,” Amy said. ”Prepare him for it.”
The limousine stopped. They had finally growled up the rocky, narrow road to the observatory complex. To Kingsley's surprise, the rain clouds now hung below them. The sky above was not clear, but at least there were no glowering dark clouds and crackling lightning. The telescopes here had long taken advantage of this property, the extraordinary stability of the air above the dead volcano.
”Let us hope the b.a.s.t.a.r.d cannot find us here,” Kingsley said. He got out of the car and stretched. A dizzying lack of air made him totter. How could he think up here? Back to work, one last, desperate time.
5.
Benjamin felt her fully now. The old question about whether a simulation had an internal experience-well, all those abstract bull sessions dwindled to sc.r.a.ps. Here was her self self, coming through in her voice, her vision, the sensory smorgasbord of a lived interior.
”The sand is running, lover,” she said.
”Not yet!” he called.
She coasted in a strange Valhalla of cathedral light and glowing electromagnetic majesty. He floated in his harness, immersed in her world. Through a small port, he could watch the crescent wonder of the great water world below, but his eyes did not stray from the spectacle before him.
Three dots scorched her vision with momentary pinpoint explosions. ”Gotcha!” she cried.
He flinched. ”What was that?”
”I nailed three of the nodules where the Old One is stored.”
”With Searchers?”
”It killed them, sure. But not fast enough.”
”More barium?”
”Yeah, giving the beast an enema.”
”The big cloud, it's expanding pretty fast.”
He sent her his extra data sources on a tightbeam, high-bit squirt. A blooming ivory barium cloud licked at the Eater's magnetic rim.
”Ride 'em, cowboy,” she gloated.
”It's heading away, around the moon.”
”Hungry, that misbegotten-”
She had stopped abruptly. Benjamin frowned. ”What's-”
”It's talking to me.”
”About what?”
”Music. Listen.”
-RESONANCES WITH HUMAN BRAIN PATTERNS. SOME SYNCHRONIZE WITH BODILY RHYTHMS. THE BEAT IS ALL. YOUR ”CLa.s.sICAL” MUSIC APPEALS TO A DIFFERENT CLa.s.s OF CADENCES, MORE PURELY MENTAL RATHER THAN PHYSIOLOGICAL-THOUGH FOR YOU THE TWO ARE NEVER ENTIRELY SEPARATE, AS WITNESSED BY FOOT TAPPING TO EVEN THE MOST RAREFIED STRING QUARTET.
”This is insane,” Benjamin said.
”Aliens are by definition insane.”
Suddenly, on five channels, came a flurry of transmissions, everything from African tribal intonations to Beethoven, from Chuck Berry to Gregorian chants, no technique or style neglected.
”What-?!”
STIMULATING TO RECEIVE THESE FORMS OF CEREBRAL JEST. THROUGH YOU IN THE MOTE NEARBY, I CAN SOMEWHAT KEN HOW THESE GAMBOLS PLAY OUT IN THE HUMAN SENSORIUM. VERY MUCH AS YOUR OTHER IRRATIONAL-OR PERHAPS BETTER, SUPERRATIONAL-METHODS PERFORM. AS, FOR EXAMPLE, IN ”LOVE” AND MECHANISMS OF REPRODUCTION.
”We're trying to kill it and it sends us music criticism?”
She said tensely, ”Bravado? To distract us?”
HOW BEAUTIFUL IMMORTALITY IS, THE BLISS OF BEING BLENDED. COME, JOIN ME. WE SHALL VOYAGE AMONG THE STARS TOGETHER.
Baroque music sounded. ”Good G.o.d, it's a sales pitch,” she said.
FROM TOO MUCH LOVE OF LIVINGFROM HOPE AND FEAR SET FREEWE THANK WITH BRIEF THANKSGIVINGWHATEVER G.o.dS MAY BETHAT NO LIFE LIVES FOREVERTHAT DEAD MEN RISE UP NEVERTHAT EVEN THE WEARIEST RIVERWINDS SOMEWHERE SAFE TO SEA.
”What in the world...” Benjamin felt an eerie sense of an intelligence abidingly strange.
”That's supposed to be enticing? Ha!”
”Must be a poem.”
Wonderingly she said, ”I think I understand. It doesn't actually believe we will strike against it.”
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