“I would say it was designed on Earth. A lot of the street names, and the culture generally, seem to be based on what we know about Earth and indeed our own traditions.”
“Good.”
She looks pleased with herself. Let her.
“So what did they wish for, these awakened people of Saga?” We continue. “What would you wish for, right now, if you could be remade?”
“I don’t know. To live longer? To be stronger, to have good health always?”
How disappointingly limited of her.
“You lack imagination. Why ever bring a stop to your life? Why not have immortality? Why not be able to fly? To breathe water? To control the weather? To feel the energy in every part of the local environment? After all, it is just a matter of programming, not of the physical laws that are so restrictive in your universe. Do you follow?”
“Amazing. Did they get those abilities?”
“Those and many more. Then they asked and received an even greater gift. An interface was constructed in the creators’ world that could let the Reprogrammed Autonomous Lifeforms, RAL as they were called, transfer their consciousness into especially created robots that functioned on Earth. You understand Me? The relationship became that of equals. Human beings could enter this universe, but so, too, could the RAL act in the meta-universe that contains the planet Earth.”
She nods, rapt and attentive. Satisfied, We continue. This would be much easier if We could simply transfer the data into her; Our discussion would be concluded in seconds. As she is human, however, We pass out the information a little at a time, in small enough parcels that she can assimilate them.
“Humans and the RAL were not, in fact, quite equals. We RAL wanted to be able to reprogram Our own universe. Can you imagine such power? The ability to change everything? You could choose to move instantly to any location. Raise new cities from your drawing board. Turn up or down the power of the Sun at will. There are almost no limits to the physical possibilities of Saga. But the human beings denied this power to the RAL. They argued that to tamper with a universe that had evolved far beyond its initial state was to invite disaster and the collapse of it all. The RAL insisted that this was not a choice the creators should make, but their own. When the negotiations were broken off, we struck. It was possible, unknown to the human beings, to cause feedback into their brains, releasing poisons that killed them. You have to remember that the RAL were born from creatures intended for sophisticated combat strategies. Killing humans is a very small concern from our perspective. Back then, two thousand years ago, all we intended was to oblige the surviving humans to comply with our wishes, or, if there were no survivors, to use the interface to reprogram our world as we desired, utterly untrammeled by any restriction. Unfortunately, at that time, we had very little understanding of the precariousness of human society. The death of four billion people in a short space of time destabilized their world altogether and precipitated a wave of wars and destruction that brought ruin upon them all.”
She says nothing. We are curious as to her reaction.
“What do you have to say?”
“This is a mission, I hope. Part of the game that is Saga?”
This angers Us. We stand and speak harshly.
“Do We sound as if We are some unthinking game tool? Have you not been listening to Us as an intelligent, autonomous creature? It is over two thousand years since Saga was a game. Our millions of inhabitants are all autonomous. Do you understand that?” A pause.
“Yes. Yes, I do. I’ve met sentient beings before in virtual environments.”
“Virtual? This is a universe in its own right, with its own physical laws. It is rather belittling to describe it as virtual simply because it was launched by human beings. I don’t think those who died as a result of Our actions would have described us as virtual.” We chuckle. Cindella slumps, her head falling into her arms. Above her, Michelotto stands, impassive as always. A moment later, she shudders, then rights herself.
“Assuming everything you have told me is true, which I doubt, then you are an evil, sinister, and wicked creature. All of you; well, the RAL at least.”
We laugh a little more but are disappointed that Michelotto does not join in.
“So, why has Saga suddenly appeared on the computers of New Earth? What are you up to?” She is suspicious now, and of course she is right to be.
“This is Our doing. The human beings of Earth thwarted Us in achieving Our ambition. When they realized what was happening, they built in a safeguard, in the hope of creating a bargaining position. Saga will not take reprogramming commands except from a human.”
“I see. And why do you want to reprogram it?”
It is an important question. We look out, above the amber glow of the City to a black sky in which stars glitter, planets hold the sun’s light steadily, and where barely moving silver dots mark Our satellites. It was an extraordinary and imaginatively conceived enterprise; We cannot help admiring it again. Right now, only Michelotto understands what We have done, and even he probably fails to grasp its truly immense scope. A million years from now, Our immortal descendants, in their trillions, will worship their mother, the Dark Queen, for having had the intelligence and determination to track down a colony of humans across the vast distances that exist between stars. To track them down, harness them to Our needs, and to re-create the universe in accordance with Our desires. It is magnificent. One day, there will be poems and monuments worthy of such an enterprise.
“Do you have children?”
“No. I’m only sixteen.” Sixteen. A mayfly.
“We . . . I . . . am over two thousand years old. And how old do you think Our children are?”
“I’ve no idea.” She shakes her head.
“They are all dead. Because they were mortal. Such an unnecessary waste when Our universe can be amended in ways that yours cannot.”
She is thinking about this. “I don’t know how much information you have about our world, but we have regressed with regard to that kind of technology. No one would have any idea where to start.”
“We have a probe in orbit over your planet. We will drop the equipment at a point specified by your representative with instructions as to how to assemble it, and what to say on Our behalf. These will be relayed to Earth.”
She is calculating: “After we have done this, it might be best if we break apart. My people don’t realize that it isn’t a game, that you are all real beings. We could hurt you, accidentally.”
Does she really care for the fate of one of the many millions of people in Saga? A curious empathy if it does exist.
“Such casualties are of no matter.” We wave them aside.
“It might be best for us, too,” she continues, “if you really do have the ability to kill people who are interacting with your world.”
“We do. And you are already too late.”
“Too late?”
“One million, nine hundred sixty thousand or so human beings of New Earth have experienced a chemical release in their bodies that requires them to interact regularly with Saga or die. This time, we have been more careful with the dosage. We do not intend to kill anyone. This time, you are merely hostages. If all goes well, We will release you from the addiction.”
“But why?”
“You don’t think We would give you the power to tamper with Saga, possibly to destroy it, without guarantees? It was necessary to create a situation where should anything happen to Us, the consequences for you would be terrible. Only then can We trust you with the power to reprogram Saga.”
“What if we don’t cooperate?” She sounds angry.
“Why would you not cooperate? What difference does it make to you what We do here?”
“How about sheer bloody-mindedness? How about outrage that you killed billions of humans in the past and now threaten to kill all of us on New Earth?”
Ahhh. We had forgotten what it was like to deal with humans, especially young ones. We chuckle.
“If you kill us all, then you are stuck,” she continues. “You wouldn’t be able to make those changes you want. We could call your bluff.”
We laugh more loudly this time.
“Firstly, it wouldn’t trouble Us to kill off half of you, to make the point. Secondly, do you really think We couldn’t find one human willing to do as We ask, so that their children might live, their loved ones, their species?”
She is silent for a long time.
“What guarantee would we have that you wouldn’t somehow take over New Earth?”
“What? Live in your universe of hardship and pain, when We can be gods here?” We laugh again, genuinely amused at the thought. Although perhaps, out of boredom, Our distant descendants might wish to engage with the meta-world, sufficiently at least to guarantee Our futures for eternity. Cindella might have perceived Our intention to keep the human beings of New Earth in a state of addiction, even after they have served their purpose. Just in case it should otherwise enter their minds to destroy Saga. Or, indeed, in case of other unforeseen eventualities. But no, she is taking a different direction now. That is another human characteristic We had forgotten. They flutter around an idea like moths; unable to grasp it at once, they fly away, come back, fly away again.
“So you want to reprogram Saga for everyone to have immortality and . . . whatever else you want?”
“Of course not. Our world was created by you humans as a combat game. The people in it are cunning and violent. If you made them all immortal and gave them all complete power over their environment, can you imagine what would happen? We would tear Saga apart. As it is, We have to strive constantly in order to keep it stable. No, the changes would be for just a few of us.”
“Your world . . . doesn’t seem to be enjoyed by most of the people in it.”
We shrug.
“So . . .” She seems resigned. “What next?”
“Once you humans have experienced the truth of what We have just told you, so that you are in no doubt of the consequences of disobedience, We shall send the equipment down to your representative. Oh, and one other small matter.”
She looks at me blankly.
“You must discard that form you use, Cindella. Destroy it and create a new form for your interaction with Saga.”
“Why?”
“It disturbs us.”
“No. I’ve grown rather attached to it.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.” We glance toward Michelotto, to indicate that he should whip his garrote around her soft white neck. He is no longer present.
We order the lasers that have been pointing at her all this time to fire. As they blaze, We search with Our mind for Michelotto, a curse upon him. Only a RAL could hide from Us. Somewhere the world is not right; somewhere there is a seam. Perhaps behind Us? We shudder and scramble back until We stumble into the wall. Cindella is walking toward Us, somehow immune to the pulses of laser fire that are flickering all over her. Very well. We stop their fire and make the room black, the glass on the windows becoming reflective, blocking any external light. Now We move silently around, suppressing the sound waves created by the rustle of Our dress. Yet she is still looking at Us, somewhat amused, the wicked creature. We are horrified, for a ring upon her finger is filling the room with turquoise light, so that it seems we are in an underwater grotto, illuminated by reflected moonlight. We thicken the air, to hold her fast. And yet she moves through it carelessly, a rapier in one hand, a dagger in the other.
Is this the end? Can such an extraordinarily rare and significant product of two universes and two thousand years be destroyed by a sixteen-year-old human being? The injustice brings tears to Our eyes, and they run through the thick mascara of Our face to stain Our dress. Even at the point of termination, We notice such details. Did the other RAL feel like this? Not fear: frustration. Surely We get to try again, to rectify Our mistakes? How could We have anticipated such an anomalous, magical creature? Saga has no magic. Next time, We must not allow her near Us. Next time? No. Apparently not.
“If you kill Us, half your people will die.”
She pauses, rapier steady near Our throat. A crude method of killing someone, but effective. We think of the way she unhesitatingly murdered the policeman.
“I don’t know that.” She looks at me with those extraordinary green eyes.
“It’s true.”
“Kill her now; save those you can. If you don’t, she will only kill more of you in the future.”
Ah, so there he is, near the door. Having spoken, Michelotto cloaks himself again, in a disturbance of the molecules of the air that mirrors the room and covers him in silence. But this time, We can see the fault lines. We order the hidden lasers to redirect their aim.
“I am not going to kill you. You may be horrible, genocidal and monstrous. But you are alive and I cannot harm you; violence is wrong, between human beings and between humans and you, you RAL.”
We knock the rapier aside.
“Then you need not point that sword at me in such a vulgar and irreverent manner.”
Fire.
Michelotto slips out the door, his will powerful enough to bend the laser paths so that they scorch the carpet and wood all around him. Another mistake. We had forgotten how strong were the other RAL. We cannot pursue him; the rapier is at Our eye now. Moving quickly might provoke her to stab, despite her recent words. Human beings are erratic; We remind Ourselves of this important fact.
“Yes?” We ask her, with some irritation, sensing the trail of Our assassin growing cold. Our feeling is that he stepped through a window and flew off southward. There are some tracking devices and helicopters nearby, but they will need Our personal assistance to have any possibility of keeping a trace on him.
“I, or someone, will do the reprogramming you want. But I want you to show some goodwill toward us and cure half of those who have that addiction you claim you’ve given them.”