CAPACITY

Justinian had made the decision. No, not Justinian; this pod had made a decision. It descended to this cave, hoping to safeguard the rest of the planet from what it might find, and then it had repeated the experiment of Pod 16.

And oh, the wonder! The sheer possibilities inherent in that little black seed upon which it first gazed. It wasn’t so much a seed as a window into another place. And what came spewing forth from that window, matching its thoughts? To pull back was almost impossible. It had to cut part of its own mind clean away just to achieve separation from the alien plant.

Reeling, with only half a mind, it had formed a plan. Sent itself on a dizzying ride through a databank of the population of the Earth Domain, looking for a suitable child.

“My child!” shouted Justinian, shaken from his reverie.

“Yes,” the pod said. “We knew we would be refused if we asked for a child. So we named an adult, one who would have no choice but to bring their child along with them. You.”

“Oh, Jesse,” Justinian cried, “what have I done to you?”

“Nothing, Justinian. It was not your fault.”

“Why not?” He shook his head. “Did you just say something?”

“No. Justinian, take comfort in the fact that, in coming here, you were not acting of your own free will. You have been manipulated by AIs into bringing your child with you. Now your child’s interactions with the plant can be transmitted-”

“You evil-”

“Not evil. The EA needs to see what a developing human intelligence calls forth, and the thresholds at which that plant operates.”

“Fuck your thresholds. Why should we care?”

“Because these plants are the Strangler Vines that could reach all the way through your galaxy and choke the life from the Earth Domain. We must study them, and yet the one tool that we use to study them, our intelligence, is useless! We need to find out why they were made.”

“Why were they made?” said Justinian. “I’m sorry…what was that?”

“I said nothing.”

“I could have sworn…Anyway, how do you know they were made? Maybe they grow naturally.”

“I don’t think so. You know the BVBs?”

“I know the BVBs,” Justinian said bitterly. He could feel the tension of the one around his arm.

“They are being formed by the plant that this pod here grew. The larger the plant, the greater its capabilities. This plant is pouring energy into cosmic strings, making them grow.”

Justinian shook his head, clearing his ears. “Cosmic strings?”

“Smaller than atoms. Little loops pumped so full of energy that they grow to macroscopic size. And then they are released, to shrink away again-BVBs. They are the stuff of the universe itself. That is why they can’t be cut.”

“Oh.”

“The amount of energy that is required to grow a BVB is colossal. We need to know where it’s coming from. We need to know how the plant is doing it.”

Justinian shook his head again, sure he heard a whispering there, a sweet whispering, the sound of the sea, the sound of his wife. A seductive calling and cooing.

“What is that noise?” he said.

“The plant,” the AI said. “It adapts quickly. It will try to communicate with your intelligence in whatever way it can. Now that your vision is destroyed, it is finding another way to speak with you. Soon I will be forced to deafen you. Listen: you still have a chance to live, Justinian. Run back to the surface and board the flier. I can activate the automatic recall; get it to take you back to Gateway spaceport.”

The whispering grew louder. Justinian strained to hear what it had to say.

“Ignore the whispering, Justinian. You have the willpower to do so. Start ru

“What about Jesse?”

“I’m sorry. He stays here with me.”

“Then I won’t go.”

“Then you’ll die.”

The sweet singing was louder now.

“No! I won’t allow you to keep my child!”

“What can you do, Justinian? I am sorry that it must be this way, but the decision was made a long time ago. It is better that fifty people die than three hundred. Better one child than all humankind.”

The siren voices were almost making sense now.

“Don’t listen, Justinian. That plant is growing again. Ignore the voices and concentrate. Go back to the spaceport and grow new eyes. Tell them there what I have done. Maybe you can convince them to return here and rescue your child. Yes, why not do that? Be quick. I can keep him alive one, maybe two days. Today he looked at a Schrödinger box and held it in position for the first time. Leslie will have marked that level of intelligence well. Beneath that level is the level we can work at. Maybe the EA can build AIs of below that level of intelligence which can resist the plants. I hope so but, if not, tell the EA to start ru

The siren song was so loud now that Justinian could hardly hear what the AI was saying. It was important to listen, he knew that, but that singing was so distracting.

“Listen, Justinian. Intelligence has spread right through our own galaxy. Its time may be coming to an end. Something out there doesn’t like the idea of intelligence, even if that thing is just a plant that has evolved a way to wipe out its competitors. Who knows? You can’t save your baby. But save yourself.”

Something was asking Justinian to listen to what it was saying. A voice that spoke without words, concepts that came from another place.

There was a sudden shrill burst of white noise, and Justinian heard nothing further. Deafened by the pod.

What was he to do? Sobbing with frustration, he began to crawl in the direction he thought the tu

He could feel tears on his cheeks. Tears of rage and pity and shame. He felt cold sharp stone beneath his hands. He was crawling away from his child, but he had to. It was the only way to get help.

He put his hand on something soft and rounded. A vine? He felt a pattern of movement on his skin. Regular movement: a message in tactile Morse. The plant was still trying to communicate with him! And now he could smell something…And then there was a burning sensation as the pod flayed him alive, burnt the living, feeling skin from his body.

The pain passed and his mind was left floating in a dark sea, cut off completely from the insinuating information of the plants.

Jesse, he thought in despair. Where are you?

Helen 5: 2240

Relaxation had been an art form back in 2170. Helen had been an artiste.

She sat cross-legged on the smooth green lawn, cherry blossom falling softly around her. The pink-and-white blossom fell into her brushed-out hair, tangled in threads of golden sunlight. The petals formed a pointillist pattern across her white jumpsuit. Her ta

This is all a pose, she thought, eyes closed. It isn’t about getting in touch with myself after my ordeal, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. Damn that Judy. She’s revealed me to myself.

She opened her eyes. Kevin was walking towards her, drawing a wake of death behind him. The branches of the trees in the cherry orchard closed like hands as he walked by, red-banded trunks blackened as they aged. The grass at his feet turned brown and lay down to die. A cold wind followed him, bringing the smell of decay.

“Oh, Helen,” Kevin said, “you look so pure and virginal.”

“That was the intention.”

Helen remained seated as Kevin stopped before her. A wash of dying brown grass swirled around her.

“Must you do that?” she asked.

Kevin shrugged. “It isn’t real, Helen.” He raised an arm to take in the surrounding green orchard of this section of the Shawl. “None of this is real. This is just a processing space. It’s just the Watcher’s dream.”