Authors: Patrick Lee
He could let it be over now.
Pilgrim was dead. The Whisper was in its box. He could wait for Paige and the others to come down. They were sprinting down through the stairwell right now, from thirty stories above. They’d be here in a couple minutes.
He could let it end just like this.
Only he couldn’t.
Because the Whisper had been out there all these years, seeding the world with vines that all converged on this moment. Something very big was about to happen, whether or not he left the Whisper in its box. He could feel it. All that this thing had ever done, in its twenty years on Earth, had been to place Travis in this corridor, at this moment, alone.
For a reason.
Time to find out what it was.
He crouched, set the gun aside, unlatched the steel box and opened it. Blue light blazed. He pulled off the top of the transparency suit and dropped it against the wall, and with his bare hand, he lifted the Whisper from the box.
There was no trance effect this time. No erotic intensity pushing his logic and willpower aside. Just Emily Price’s voice, steady and even.
“Hello, Travis.
”
“Hello,” he said.
“All appearances to the contrary, I really have no tendency toward screwing around. Let’s get right to it, shall we?
”
“Let’s,” Travis said.
“There’s something very important coming out of the Breach, just over three minutes from now. Entity 0697. It’s critical that you be there to receive it. You alone.
”
“What is Entity 0697?”
“You’ll see. It’s time to make your way down now, Travis. While you do that, I’ll tell you as much as I’m sanctioned to tell you.
”
Travis looked at the stairwell door, through which Paige and the others would arrive in the next minute or so. Then he went past it, to the elevator shaft, and stepped onto the inset ladder inside. Only the elevator shaft went all the way to B51.
He descended, unhindered by the Whisper in his hand; he freed two fingers from around it to grip the rungs. The blue light settled into the rhythm of his pulse, flaring over and over on the dull walls of the shaft.
“I’ll tell you the story of your life,
” the Whisper said, “
the way it would’ve gone if I hadn’t come along and started changing things. Fifteen years in prison. You get out. You do not move to Alaska. You join your brother’s software business in Minneapolis. He shows you the ropes. You learn very quickly. Programming, it turns out, is only another species of detective work, at which you’re a natural. It’s all about cause-and-effect logic, if/then reasoning, shot through a prism of creativity. Your insight greatly enhances the development of your brother’s fledgling artificial intelligence system, Whitebird. Over the years it progresses through iterative leaps, the major upgrades corresponding to the belt-color rankings of martial arts, in reference to the old eight-bit Karate games it was once tested on. First iteration, Whitebird. Second iteration, Yellowbird. Third, Greenbird. By April of 2014 your brother has put the project entirely under your control. You create Bluebird, which Sony purchases for two hundred forty million dollars. It becomes a standard bearer for video-game intelligence. Tangent takes notice of you. In October of that same year they recruit you to live at Border Town and design specialized software and hardware for them, based on the Bluebird architecture. You rise to prominence within Tangent in short order. At some point after that—here I’m limited in what exactly I can tell you—things begin to go badly.
”
“Badly how?”
He passed B48, the numbers stenciled on the inside of the shaft doors.
“It’s better if I don’t say any more about it,
” the Whisper said, “
until you see Entity 0697 for yourself.
”
The Whisper fell silent. Travis didn’t bother to question it further.
The shaft brightened as he descended. He looked down and saw light streaming in at the bottom, illuminating the pancaked wreck of the elevator cab. The impact had blown out the shaft doors on B51. The light was shining in from the concrete corridor on that level. The elevator had compressed so much that it only blocked the bottom half of the opening. There would be room to slide through easily.
Travis reached the rung above the elevator. The roof was bent and canted to the side but looked sturdy enough. He stepped onto it, and a moment later he was in the corridor, staring toward the dark shell that enclosed the Breach. Around his feet, blood soaked the concrete, pooling in every imperfection in its surface.
“Travis?” It was Paige’s voice, coming down to him from high above. “Travis, where are you?” Her tone, confused and unnerved, made him want to answer. Made him want to call up the shaft, tell her it was all okay, he’d be right with her.
“You need to receive it alone,
” the Whisper said.
It wasn’t forcing his mind. Only telling him. He nodded, and set off down the corridor, Paige’s voice calling again behind him, over and over.
To the end of the corridor. To the giant black dome. To the igloo entrance, and through its glass door.
The Breach waited in its little soundproof cage. Purple and blue, its depth receding to a vanishing point.
He could already see the entity coming. A shape against the dazzle of the tunnel’s colored light. Something white, and nearly weightless, wafting along the passageway like a feather through an air duct. But it wasn’t a feather. Not quite. Maybe thirty yards away down the tunnel now. Twenty. Ten.
Travis opened the door, and the Breach Voices pierced him at once, like scalpel tips into his eardrums. He thought of Dave Bryce, stuck down here with this sound until it drove him mad.
Entity 0697 emerged from the Breach and drifted down onto the receiving platform. It was a single sheet of paper, with writing on it.
Travis stooped to pick it up, expecting the Whisper’s scratch language, or maybe some alien script he wouldn’t recognize at all.
Instead it was neatly handwritten English.
He stepped back from the glass door and let it fall shut again, mercifully silencing the Breach Voices. But by that time he’d forgotten all about them. He’d forgotten everything else in the world, except what was written on the paper in his hands.
THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM PAIGE CAMPBELL TO PAIGE CAMPBELL. I AM SENDING IT FROM A POINT IN THE FUTURE WHICH I WILL NOT DISCLOSE. AS VERIFICATION THAT THIS IS REALLY PAIGE, MY FAVORITE PASSAGE OF ANY NOVEL IS THE LAST PARAGRAPH BEFORE THE EPILOGUE OF
WATERSHIP DOWN
BY RICHARD ADAMS, A FACT I HAVE NEVER SHARED WITH ANYONE. AS VERIFICATION OF TIME, HERE ARE THE DETAILS OF A MINOR EARTHQUAKE THAT WILL OCCUR BENEATH THE MOJAVE DESERT THREE DAYS AFTER THIS MESSAGE ARRIVES. MAG 2.35, DATE JULY 3, 2009, 10:48 UTC, LAT 34.915, LON –118.072, DEPTH 14.32KM. THIS MESSAGE IS AN INSTRUCTION REGARDING A MAN NAMED TRAVIS CHASE. IN 2009 HE IS A SOFTWARE ENGINEER WHO LIVES IN MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, AT 4161 KALMACH ST. FIND TRAVIS CHASE AND KILL HIM. MORE THAN 20 MILLION LIVES ARE AT STAKE.
Travis saw that the Whisper’s light was strobing faster than before. A lot faster. It was still matched to his pulse.
His eyes went back to the message. “This can’t be,” he said.
“It is,
” the Whisper said. “
She really wrote that, and really sent it, using technology that will eventually be developed by Dr. Fagan. Fagan’s theory turns out to be correct: objects can be sent into the Breach from this side, but they return without reaching the far end, and depending on their velocity, they can return
before
they were sent in. Even years and years before.
”
Travis shook his head. Behind his disbelief, uncountable questions churned. His eyes tracked over the words on the paper again. Paige. Hating him. Wanting him dead.
“What am I, in the future?” he said. “Am I a monster?”
“
Monster
is a human label. It’s subjective. I could argue that you were a monster twenty minutes ago when you murdered four men with a crowbar and enjoyed it.
”
“They deserved it.”
“
Deserve
is a human label too. It changes depending on who’s saying it.
” The Whisper paused, its light reflecting off the glass of the Breach’s enclosure, and then said, “
I can tell you this, objectively. The Travis Chase who joined Tangent by way of being a software engineer eventually became someone Paige Campbell wanted dead. Wanted it badly enough to send that note, to make it happen retroactively. That same Travis Chase found out about what she’d done, and in turn found a way to counteract her move. He had, by this time, developed his AI architecture to a system called Brownbird, which was radically advanced. But there was a way to improve its performance beyond what humans had ever thought was possible—beyond what even a quantum computer could do—by upgrading the hardware with Breach technology. It would be very difficult to describe for you how it works. Even the Travis Chase who built it didn’t fully understand its operation. The quick version is that it uses matter outside of itself for calculation, connecting to it by way of particles very close to what physicists in 2009 call gravitons. The system can set up spin computation in every elementary particle of a nearby lump of material—the planet Earth, for example. Yesterday, Paige told you how powerful a quantum computer with one hundred qubits would be. Imagine one with as many qubits as the Earth has quarks. That system is called Blackbird. Didn’t I promise to tell you my real name someday?
”
“I created you?” Travis said. “I sent you . . . back to 1989?”
“Yes. For two purposes. First, to position your present self here and now, so that you would intercept Paige’s message to herself. Second, to arrange events such that you would still become a member of Tangent, as in the original timeline—though a few years earlier in this case.
”
The coiled logic of it settled over Travis. Then, even through his confusion, he sensed a flaw in what the thing had told him.
“You’re wondering how I’ll be created now,”
the Blackbird said.
“This time around, you won’t join your brother’s business. You won’t become an AI designer. You won’t know how to build me. So how will I come to be?”
Travis waited for it to go on.
“Humans call this problem the
grandfather paradox.
They get tied up thinking about it. What happens if you go back in time and kill your grandfather before he meets your grandmother? Do you cease to exist, having prevented your own birth? No. Your arrival in the past
becomes
your birth, even if it means being born fully grown, with a head full of memories of a childhood that may never end up happening. It’s no different in my case: I may have once been built by Travis Chase, but my arrival in 1989 became my creation, superseding the other. The grandfather paradox is a fallacy. I exist. It’s that simple. And now I’ve done what I was sent to do, so I’ll be shutting down. Permanently.”
“Wait,” Travis said. “Tell me what happens in my future. What happens to turn me into . . . whatever I’m going to be? Can I avoid it?”
He heard the Blackbird laugh softly inside his head, as if it found that idea absurd. But it didn’t say so.
“I’m not supposed to talk about that.”
“But I don’t understand,” Travis said. “Did the other—did
I
. . . want to reset everything, and have a second chance? A chance to not become someone bad?”
“The Travis who sent me didn’t consider himself bad. Does anyone?
”
Before he could ask anything else, the Blackbird flared bright in his hand. Bright enough to make him look away. He saw his own shadow projected on the wall, enormous and terrible. Then it vanished. He looked at the Blackbird again. Dark and dead in his hand.
“Travis?”
Paige. Behind him at the entry to the dome.
In his other hand he still held the note. It was in front of him; she hadn’t seen it yet.
He could show it to her. Tell her everything. Start off on the right track, find some way to prevent whatever it implied.