switched to a close-up of the depth of damage incurred.
“A billion years ago,” Wheeler intoned, “more, a meteorite struck our planet and drove a significant portion of rudimentary life deep into the crust of the earth. There this life clung to existence. For eons it struggled against and then finally mastered its environment.”
“How?” a woman asked.
“By developing a means of merging and measuring, of combining with its mates, of defining its surroundings and then altering structurally to survive. This was a very early form of life and not easily retarded by extreme temperatures or the lack of sun. These creatures learned to live on the minerals and elements of the earth.”
The image began going through a series of different phases, all of them contained by the same globe. A purple cloud formed far below the surface, and as one image replaced the other, the cloud changed hue—growing sometimes larger, sometimes smaller—and began a slow migration toward the surface.
I remembered GT’s explanation of the Wave and its movement toward his grave. I gave in completely then to the idea that he was, or at least had been, my father. While representatives of every major nation and corporation pondered the so-called threat to our species, I lamented my words to the man whom I had denied. I’d been given a second chance to have him in my life, and I’d turned away.
“The communal organism moved for millennia toward the surface of the planet—”
“You believe that this—this mass of microscopic creatures has intelligence?” Dr. Hingis asked.
“Not exactly,” Wheeler replied. “These beings’ existence has developed around an intense struggle for survival. You have seen how three XTs spend ninety-four seconds merging and sharing calculations. We have recorded images of millions of such transitions. The XT has developed the ideal society. An environment in which all experience is shared—physically. It wasn’t until the colony had migrated to the DNA of simple creatures and maybe even the corpses of dead animals that they began to develop what we call intelligence. Their form of survival gave them the ability to digest the genome and to repeat it. This is life using the basic trait of life to merge with and dominate the environment.”
The hush in the hall was almost maddening. Even I understood the ramifications of the scientist’s claims. This new life-form, the XT, had the ability to
read
DNA and every other quantifiable thing about a human being. Thoughts, dreams, instincts, images, emotions—everything that made up life could be quantified and repeated.
If the XT was our enemy, we would be defenseless against it. It was too small to shoot, resistant to heat and cold, seemingly impervious to poison or lack of air. And if every cell knew everything—or even almost everything—that all other cells knew, then it was nearly immortal in a real way.
“You say colony,” a woman said. “Singular. Do you believe that there is only one mass of this contagion?”
“It’s likely,” Dr. Gregory said, stepping up to the podium. “There may have been many such groups at first, but we believe they were all in the same area and that they ultimately either perished or merged. It would be improbable for them to be more widely dispersed because of the impediment of stone.”
“What about reproduction, David?” someone asked even as the question was forming in my mind.
“A good question, Mr. Tron,” the host replied. “Using the most advanced computer system in the world, the Japanese Nine-two, we have continuously observed twelve million individual cells for over seven months. In that time there have been only fourteen hundred and ninety-eight reproductions and nearly a thousand deaths.”
“These beings can die?”
“So it seems, my friend.” Again the screen changed images. Whoever was at the video controls had worked so closely with Gregory and Wheeler that he knew instinctively what to
“A billion years ago,” Wheeler intoned, “more, a meteorite struck our planet and drove a significant portion of rudimentary life deep into the crust of the earth. There this life clung to existence. For eons it struggled against and then finally mastered its environment.”
“How?” a woman asked.
“By developing a means of merging and measuring, of combining with its mates, of defining its surroundings and then altering structurally to survive. This was a very early form of life and not easily retarded by extreme temperatures or the lack of sun. These creatures learned to live on the minerals and elements of the earth.”
The image began going through a series of different phases, all of them contained by the same globe. A purple cloud formed far below the surface, and as one image replaced the other, the cloud changed hue—growing sometimes larger, sometimes smaller—and began a slow migration toward the surface.
I remembered GT’s explanation of the Wave and its movement toward his grave. I gave in completely then to the idea that he was, or at least had been, my father. While representatives of every major nation and corporation pondered the so-called threat to our species, I lamented my words to the man whom I had denied. I’d been given a second chance to have him in my life, and I’d turned away.
“The communal organism moved for millennia toward the surface of the planet—”
“You believe that this—this mass of microscopic creatures has intelligence?” Dr. Hingis asked.
“Not exactly,” Wheeler replied. “These beings’ existence has developed around an intense struggle for survival. You have seen how three XTs spend ninety-four seconds merging and sharing calculations. We have recorded images of millions of such transitions. The XT has developed the ideal society. An environment in which all experience is shared—physically. It wasn’t until the colony had migrated to the DNA of simple creatures and maybe even the corpses of dead animals that they began to develop what we call intelligence. Their form of survival gave them the ability to digest the genome and to repeat it. This is life using the basic trait of life to merge with and dominate the environment.”
The hush in the hall was almost maddening. Even I understood the ramifications of the scientist’s claims. This new life-form, the XT, had the ability to
read
DNA and every other quantifiable thing about a human being. Thoughts, dreams, instincts, images, emotions—everything that made up life could be quantified and repeated.
If the XT was our enemy, we would be defenseless against it. It was too small to shoot, resistant to heat and cold, seemingly impervious to poison or lack of air. And if every cell knew everything—or even almost everything—that all other cells knew, then it was nearly immortal in a real way.
“You say colony,” a woman said. “Singular. Do you believe that there is only one mass of this contagion?”
“It’s likely,” Dr. Gregory said, stepping up to the podium. “There may have been many such groups at first, but we believe they were all in the same area and that they ultimately either perished or merged. It would be improbable for them to be more widely dispersed because of the impediment of stone.”
“What about reproduction, David?” someone asked even as the question was forming in my mind.
“A good question, Mr. Tron,” the host replied. “Using the most advanced computer system in the world, the Japanese Nine-two, we have continuously observed twelve million individual cells for over seven months. In that time there have been only fourteen hundred and ninety-eight reproductions and nearly a thousand deaths.”
“These beings can die?”
“So it seems, my friend.” Again the screen changed images. Whoever was at the video controls had worked so closely with Gregory and Wheeler that he knew instinctively what to
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