Chalker, Jack L. - Well of Souls 02 by Exiles At the Well of Souls Page A
Authors: Exiles At the Well of Souls
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somewhere, maintaining all reality. When I reverse the bias, there is a good possibility, in theory, that New Pompeii, while within the field, will have no existence in the prime equation. I have felt this slight pull on subjects under the disk. The pull on a mass of this size may be impossible to contain, because of my power limits, or, in any case, may take more time than we have to learn how to counter."
Mavra Chang thought hard, but she couldn't quite follow the logic and said so.
"Well, there is a ninety percent chance or more that one of two things will happen. Either we will all cease to exist, to have ever existed— which, at least, will solve the present problem— or we will be pulled, instantaneously, to the central Markovian brain, which is most certainly not within a dozen galaxies of us. That's galaxies, Citizen Chang, not solar systems. There is a probability that at that juncture conditions for life on New Pompeii will cease to exist."
Mavra nodded grimly. "There's also the possibility that you will collide with it. You may destroy the great brain, and all existence with it!"
"There exists that possibility," Obie admitted, "but I consider it slight. The Markovian brain has lasted a long time in finite space; it has tremendous knowledge, resources, and protective mechanisms, I feel certain. There is an equal possibility that I will supplant it— and this disturbs me most of all, for I do not know enough to stabilize all New Pompeii, let alone the universe. A theory of ours is that the Markovians intended just that. It would maintain reality until a newer, fresher race came along to redirect it. The prospect frightens me, but it is, of course, also only one theory with a remote probability factor. No, the odds are that at midday tomorrow I and the whole of New Pompeii will, one way or another, cease to exist."
"Why are you telling me this?" Mavra asked, chilled both by the fate described and by the calmness with which Obie was dismissing the possibility of the end of all existence.
"When I record, I record everything," the computer explained. "Since memory is chemical in nature and is dependent on a mathematical relationship with self-generated energy, when I recorded you yesterday I knew what you know, have all of your knowledge and memory. Of all of them, you alone possess— so far— the only qualities for even a slight chance of escape."
Mavra's heart leaped. Escape! "Go on," she told the machine.
"The sponge delivery ship will not fit your needs," Obie told her. "It has no life-support system in the cockpit. However, it is possible for you to get aboard one of the two craft currently docked. I shall program you now, I shall give you all the details of New Pompeii as I have them, all the information you will need. I shall also modify you slightly, give you a visual range and acuity that will obviate the need for mechanical lenses and power packs. Small glands soon to be inside you will replace the need for nodules of chemicals; the fingers of your right hand will be able to inject the most powerful hypnotic from near-invisible natural injectors. Your left hand will produce a different venom; one touch and it will paralyze for an hour; two touches and it will kill any known organism. I shall also heighten your hearing and reshape, invisibly, your muscle tone so that you will be much faster, much stronger— that will give you unparalleled control of your body. The uses of all these modifications will come naturally to you."
"But why?" she asked. "Why are you doing this for me?"
"Not for you," the computer responded, a sad tone in its voice. "The price laid upon you is a demand, something you must do or you will find yourself unable to leave. You must fulfil the first half of your mission. You must take Nikki Zinder with you or you will stay with us. And, with the two of you goes an additional gift."
Mavra was stunned, and nodded dully, thinking of all this.
"Also within your brain is a precious
Mavra Chang thought hard, but she couldn't quite follow the logic and said so.
"Well, there is a ninety percent chance or more that one of two things will happen. Either we will all cease to exist, to have ever existed— which, at least, will solve the present problem— or we will be pulled, instantaneously, to the central Markovian brain, which is most certainly not within a dozen galaxies of us. That's galaxies, Citizen Chang, not solar systems. There is a probability that at that juncture conditions for life on New Pompeii will cease to exist."
Mavra nodded grimly. "There's also the possibility that you will collide with it. You may destroy the great brain, and all existence with it!"
"There exists that possibility," Obie admitted, "but I consider it slight. The Markovian brain has lasted a long time in finite space; it has tremendous knowledge, resources, and protective mechanisms, I feel certain. There is an equal possibility that I will supplant it— and this disturbs me most of all, for I do not know enough to stabilize all New Pompeii, let alone the universe. A theory of ours is that the Markovians intended just that. It would maintain reality until a newer, fresher race came along to redirect it. The prospect frightens me, but it is, of course, also only one theory with a remote probability factor. No, the odds are that at midday tomorrow I and the whole of New Pompeii will, one way or another, cease to exist."
"Why are you telling me this?" Mavra asked, chilled both by the fate described and by the calmness with which Obie was dismissing the possibility of the end of all existence.
"When I record, I record everything," the computer explained. "Since memory is chemical in nature and is dependent on a mathematical relationship with self-generated energy, when I recorded you yesterday I knew what you know, have all of your knowledge and memory. Of all of them, you alone possess— so far— the only qualities for even a slight chance of escape."
Mavra's heart leaped. Escape! "Go on," she told the machine.
"The sponge delivery ship will not fit your needs," Obie told her. "It has no life-support system in the cockpit. However, it is possible for you to get aboard one of the two craft currently docked. I shall program you now, I shall give you all the details of New Pompeii as I have them, all the information you will need. I shall also modify you slightly, give you a visual range and acuity that will obviate the need for mechanical lenses and power packs. Small glands soon to be inside you will replace the need for nodules of chemicals; the fingers of your right hand will be able to inject the most powerful hypnotic from near-invisible natural injectors. Your left hand will produce a different venom; one touch and it will paralyze for an hour; two touches and it will kill any known organism. I shall also heighten your hearing and reshape, invisibly, your muscle tone so that you will be much faster, much stronger— that will give you unparalleled control of your body. The uses of all these modifications will come naturally to you."
"But why?" she asked. "Why are you doing this for me?"
"Not for you," the computer responded, a sad tone in its voice. "The price laid upon you is a demand, something you must do or you will find yourself unable to leave. You must fulfil the first half of your mission. You must take Nikki Zinder with you or you will stay with us. And, with the two of you goes an additional gift."
Mavra was stunned, and nodded dully, thinking of all this.
"Also within your brain is a precious
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