The Machinery Of Light Part 45

"It's starting," says Morat. "We don't have time for-"

"We don't have time period," period," says Control. "It's all an illusion. We're standing outside it all. And what's happening around us is par for the course when a being like me closes upon its origins. The armadas of the East batter at the door, the creatures of the West barred beyond their reach. None of us in here need give two s.h.i.ts. By now those fleets have melted away into a f.u.c.king says Control. "It's all an illusion. We're standing outside it all. And what's happening around us is par for the course when a being like me closes upon its origins. The armadas of the East batter at the door, the creatures of the West barred beyond their reach. None of us in here need give two s.h.i.ts. By now those fleets have melted away into a f.u.c.king wave-function." wave-function."

"Existence ends at that membrane," mutters Sarmax.

"The Room's a no-room," says Linehan suddenly.

"The man nails it," says Lynx.

Linehan takes in Lynx's glance, realizes that everyone else is looking at him now, too. And no one had even thought twice about what was in his head till now. He shakes that head, knows he's got to clear it. He gets that he's been too much the brute to be the object of much suspicion. But disguise is all about surprise ...

"Seb Linehan," says Control.

"Sure," says Linehan. "We met before."

"But now you've been down ayahuasca alley."

"Now I've-" and suddenly Linehan gets it: Control's the demon he's been running from this whole while, the beast that sits at the end of time and laps up all pretenders. All futures flow through this thing. That's the way this thing wants it. That's what Linehan's got to somehow stop. He glances at Haskell's form hovering above him. Or below. He can't tell. Time's doing the same thing s.p.a.ce has already done, spreading out in all directions. All perspectives ...

"As always, the man with the least training is the best trained." Linehan realizes that each word Control's speaking is a musical note intended to call up something from deep within him. "Ironic, no? What we're conscious of plays so little real real role in riding the raw moment. Give a man drugs to awaken doors within him; you can't argue with the result. Ayahuasca, peyote, mushrooms, LSD-whatever it takes: There's a reason shamans worldwide all did the same d.a.m.n thing-tuned the nervous system to get in touch with the source. And yet modern society forgot. Even as its physics moved in directions that undermined the very a.s.sumptions that society was based on. There's infinite worlds out there. Infinite s.p.a.ces beyond this one. And all of it only a vibration away. Sensitives role in riding the raw moment. Give a man drugs to awaken doors within him; you can't argue with the result. Ayahuasca, peyote, mushrooms, LSD-whatever it takes: There's a reason shamans worldwide all did the same d.a.m.n thing-tuned the nervous system to get in touch with the source. And yet modern society forgot. Even as its physics moved in directions that undermined the very a.s.sumptions that society was based on. There's infinite worlds out there. Infinite s.p.a.ces beyond this one. And all of it only a vibration away. Sensitives know know this. And with the right preparation, anyone can climb those gradients-" this. And with the right preparation, anyone can climb those gradients-"

"I didn't ask to be here," says Linehan.

"That doesn't matter," says Control.

"You've got something special planned for me."

"You're not alone in that."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I'm not Sinclair!"

"It doesn't matter"-and as Control says this, Morat sidles toward Linehan, who backs away from the oncoming suit.

"What the f.u.c.k is this?"

"We need what's in your brain."

"I don't know anything!" anything!"

"You don't have to," says Control. "Not when you've still got the files that Autumn Rain stashed on you back in Hong Kong."

"Bulls.h.i.t," says Carson. says Carson.

"Those were cleaned out of me a long time back," says Linehan.

"The surface ones, sure. They thought they'd given you the fake ones. Thought they were just a decoy. And everyone who busted you open thought they'd gotten to the bottom of it. Turns out they just weren't going far enough. Because the only way to the bottom of what's planted in your your mind is via surgery." mind is via surgery."

"You guys are crazy crazy," says Linehan.

"That's the least of your problems," says Morat-a buzzsaw emanates from his glove. Linehan keeps on backing up, backs into a corner-finds himself staring at Morat's implacable visor even as he wonders what the f.u.c.k's really going on, even as he realizes he's never going to find out-but now Morat suddenly staggers back- "We're under attack," says Control-turns to Spencer- Give me what you've got or you are dead." dead."

"Ask Sarmax."

"Man doesn't care if he's alive. You do. Two seconds-"

"Fine," says Spencer-beams it all over. Morat and Marlowe's suits are starting to smoke while they look around wildly- "Not looking good," says Carson.

"Out of your suit," Control snarls at Marlowe. He leaps down to Morat, grabs him by the head- "What are you doing?" doing?" yells Morat. yells Morat.

"Can't have you turned against me."

"For the love of G.o.d," says Morat-but Control's already tearing at Morat's head, ripping it off, tossing it past Haskell. What's left of Morat's smoking cha.s.sis flares out. Marlowe is climbing out of his suit, wearing the look of a man who's glad he still has a body. He grabs a weapon from a rack on his suit's leg-an automatic rifle-and points it at the others arrayed about. says Morat-but Control's already tearing at Morat's head, ripping it off, tossing it past Haskell. What's left of Morat's smoking cha.s.sis flares out. Marlowe is climbing out of his suit, wearing the look of a man who's glad he still has a body. He grabs a weapon from a rack on his suit's leg-an automatic rifle-and points it at the others arrayed about.

"Everyone stay where you are," he yells.

Control leaps past him, lands in front of Spencer-who's wondering how he's going to get out of this one. The razor looks up into that visor-that's-no-visor, sees no mercy.

"Don't do it," he says anyway.

"Got to narrow it down," says Control-fires- -everything winking out in one flashing photonegative of this moment superimposed against all he's ever known, all he ever might have, all memories bound up in a single moment and past that moment is the Room itself receding from him at relentless speeds, collapsing away to reveal itself as a single fragment of a woman's face- -Spencer's head explodes in a shower of brain; Control's already whirling toward Linehan, who starts to dive to the right-but Jarvin's leaping in at Control-flinging his body across several meters in less than a second-a move Linehan's never seen a human make outside of armor-and now Jarvin is clinging to the back of Control, screaming at him and tearing at him while Control struggles to shake him off. Sparks are flying everywhere. Marlowe moves in, trying to get a shot off-trying to line Jarvin up with the rifle-and then Marlowe grunts and topples, a dart sticking from his back-line of sight in the direction of- "Leo?" says Carson. says Carson.

"Watch out!" yells Sarmax- -as Control's suit goes crazy, gyros propelling it against a wall and then bouncing back toward the Operative, who hurls himself aside, hearing Jarvin cursing Control for traitor and ingrate and Control begging Jarvin not to absorb his mind, and the Operative realizes in that moment that Control hasn't a chance-that none of them do-and the blood of Spencer drips down past Haskell's face and the body of Marlowe floats above them and the man who isn't really Alek Jarvin smashes Control against another wall with a force that sends parts flying, some kind of machine howl filling all their heads as the consciousness of a full-fledged quantum computer starts getting absorbed by something else altogether- "Let's get out of here," says Lynx.

"Nowhere to run," says Sarmax.

Jarvin tosses what's left of Control aside.

And looks at them like he's sizing up his prey- "Easy," says Carson. Linehan's jaw drops open as Jarvin's face just-shimmers, the molded software that covers it switching off, peeling back to reveal another face-a smile that he recognizes from newsvid- "Welcome to the endgame," says Matthew Sinclair.

f.u.c.k," says the Operative.

Sinclair's smile broadens. "Good to see you too."

"You f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d." b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"I'll be the first to admit it's been a long, strange trip."

"What the f.u.c.k have you become, Matthew?"

"Ask him," says Sinclair-gestures at Linehan.

And now they're all looking at him again; one in particular, and it's all Linehan can do not to wilt before the gaze of the thing thing that's not even vaguely human ... that's not even vaguely human ...

"You ... ate ate Control," he says. Control," he says.

Sinclair shrugs. "In point of fact, I'm still doing that."

"f.u.c.king digesting digesting him," mutters Lynx. him," mutters Lynx.

"It'll take a few minutes," says Sinclair. He looks around. "Thanks for the a.s.sist, Leo."

"Not like I knew who I was a.s.sisting," says Sarmax.

"Not like it really matters. And the rest of you can forget about whatever d.i.c.k-a.s.s weaponry you've still got."

"When did you replace Jarvin?" asks Lynx.

"Long before he could do any damage."

So there was was a Jarvin?" says the Operative. a Jarvin?" says the Operative.

"Yes," says Sinclair. "And he really did did steal my files." steal my files."

"That's why he died," says Lynx.

Sinclair looks amused. "Raise your thinking," he says. "There is no why why. There just is."

"That's what Control was just saying," says Sarmax.

"My only student worth the name."

"Other than Claire," says Lynx.

"Claire's no student." Sinclair points toward her. "Look at that face. Look at those eyes eyes. Enough to make even Carson lose his way-"

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you," says the Operative.

"That would be tough," says Sinclair.

"You've been playing us the whole time," says Sarmax. "You needed needed us to make it in here." us to make it in here."

"Another of these funny words," says Sinclair. "Need's "Need's right up there with right up there with why why. There was a pattern involving all of us. And all I've been doing these past few days is-"

"Steer," says the Operative. says the Operative.

Sinclair smiles. "Quantum decoherence necessitates the splitting-off of world-lines. Every time anyone makes a choice-every time a particle goes down one of two paths-the universe divides anew. Every time Every time. All the other interpretations of quantum mechanics were just desperate attempts to explain away the problem by those who couldn't accept the idea they weren't the center of some single existence. Meaning the real real question is how to exploit existence's true nature. Once Deutsch refined Feynman's quantum computer concept to postulate a machine that computes across multiple universes-that contains more calculations than any question is how to exploit existence's true nature. Once Deutsch refined Feynman's quantum computer concept to postulate a machine that computes across multiple universes-that contains more calculations than any one one universe-the road ahead was clear." universe-the road ahead was clear."

"Clear as mud," mud," says Sarmax. "This is about a lot more than just a rogue quantum comp-" says Sarmax. "This is about a lot more than just a rogue quantum comp-"

"Of course." Sinclair moves over to where Sarmax is looking up at him. He looks down at Indigo-"

"We can bring her back, you know," he says quietly.

Bulls.h.i.t," whispers Sarmax. But he feels hope rise within him even so-"

"Or the next best thing," says Sinclair. "Plucked from another world with almost the same memories. Albeit perhaps a slightly different set of loyalties. But she'd be as real to you as-"

"But what about the other Sarmax?" asks Lynx.

"What?" says Sarmax.

"Your evil twin," says Lynx. "Some poor f.u.c.k who would just end up missing her as much as you ever did-"

"Shut up," says Sarmax. says Sarmax.

"To be sure," says Sinclair. "The tyranny of randomness-some of you live with her, some of you live without. We're all just specks caught in the blast of fate-"

"Except for you," says Carson.

"The advantage of the first-mover." Sinclair laughs at his own joke, but no one else seems to be in the mood. "Once someone is able to tune his mind into other realities, he's no longer confined to a single universe. That's when the game gets interesting."

"He breaks out into the multiverse," says Lynx.

Sinclair gazes at him. "And there you go thinking too small again."

What the h.e.l.l do you mean?"

"I'm sure Carson can fill you in."

"Think about it, Lynx." The Operative wonders if Sinclair is testing him-wonders if he might actually survive this. "This isn't about any one one multiverse. Each one is myriad parallel worlds but-" multiverse. Each one is myriad parallel worlds but-"

"Not even parallel," says Sarmax faintly. His voice drifts among them, sounds almost hollow. "More like intertwined intertwined. Interfering with each other constantly. The whole idea of 'universe' is an absurdity, because they're all-"

"Connected," says the Operative. "And if you roll them back to the Big Bang that kicked them all off, all you find is that we're on just one branch just one branch of something much larger. Something that-" of something much larger. Something that-"

"So what's outside these walls right now?" asks Linehan.

"Nothing," says Sarmax. says Sarmax.

"Or everything," the Operative shrugs. "Same difference in the end. The walls of the Room const.i.tute a barrier on s.p.a.ce-time-an envelope sustained by the aetheric fluid of those culled in the slaughter that's going on outside-and then harnessed by the generator-membranes and channeled through the primary node itself-"

"Haskell," mutters Sarmax.

"Wait a second," says Lynx, "you're saying this really really comes down to human comes down to human sacrifice? sacrifice? To the burning up of To the burning up of souls- souls-"

"That's a loaded word," says Sarmax.

"So strip it of its baggage," says the Operative. "Sanskrit calls it prana prana. The Taoists know it as chi. It's the aura that Kirlian photography captures. The life force within each of us. Absurd that science for so long thought it absurd-"

"A totally surface understanding," says Sinclair. "We're harnessing the consciousness consciousness of all that cattle. The a.s.similation of their quantum viewpoint to augment our own, allowing us to manipulate the cosmos-handing us the reins of aggregated decoherence to shape reality the way no individual observer-effect ever could. The conveying of mere psychic energy to the Room's engines is just one source for the turbines cranking up around us-" of all that cattle. The a.s.similation of their quantum viewpoint to augment our own, allowing us to manipulate the cosmos-handing us the reins of aggregated decoherence to shape reality the way no individual observer-effect ever could. The conveying of mere psychic energy to the Room's engines is just one source for the turbines cranking up around us-"

"In another age they'd have called you a magician," says Sarmax.

"A black one," says Linehan. "He wields the dark arts-"

Sinclair laughs. "You just don't get it, do you? Science and magic are merely different sides of the same coin. Newton worked on his Principia Principia by day, his alchemy by night-struggling against more than a thousand years of superst.i.tion while he did so. Never underestimate the impact that religion had on science-how much it deadened it, made it crave orthodoxy, gave it such a narrow view of all that's possible even among those who thought they'd escaped faith's baggage. The greatest tragedy in history was the triumph of monotheism-of ideologies that claimed a monopoly on magics while they engaged in ma.s.s hypnosis to prop up texts written in the by day, his alchemy by night-struggling against more than a thousand years of superst.i.tion while he did so. Never underestimate the impact that religion had on science-how much it deadened it, made it crave orthodoxy, gave it such a narrow view of all that's possible even among those who thought they'd escaped faith's baggage. The greatest tragedy in history was the triumph of monotheism-of ideologies that claimed a monopoly on magics while they engaged in ma.s.s hypnosis to prop up texts written in the f.u.c.king Bronze Age f.u.c.king Bronze Age. Someone had to restore sanity before-"

"But G.o.d exists," says Linehan. "He's real."