Chapter 43


"Hello, I'm not real," he said. "Neither are you. We're only numbers, the only thing that can exist. Reality is an open-ended equation, calculating itself. Your soul is the sum of all its copies in all universes, a small but finite fraction of everything."
  So far so good. The camera slid back, revealing primordial diagrams behind him. "For those who are ready to listen, I bring a message from the future. My group seeks the best outcome for the largest possible number." A disclosure form appeared. "We have almost solved the first twenty-four theorems of basic reality, but a few small problems remain."
  The camera hovered near his face, slightly unfocused and off center. "The first paradox: why does our universe have consistent laws, when there are many more ways it could be completely random? Our universe equation is actually quite simple." It burned on the screen behind him, the power to create stars from nothing.
  "Smaller equations describe simpler and more consistent universes. Our own solution set is the second most common."
  Sentences scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Rick guessed they were all meticulously wrong. God was the most singular equation, one copy extending throughout reality, defining all the rest. Only one copy, or none at all? He heard a fragment of the Portuguese translation.
  "This helps explain the second paradox:" Tarek continued. "Why are our minds so small? Any randomly selected possible mind should be infinite. The Principle of Mediocrity predicts that, since simple universes like ours are more likely to be duplicated, the smallest minds vastly outnumber all the larger ones." The screen filled with hyperbolic ratios. (The Mediocrity Principle even applied to life after death. All possible thoughts could be organized in a matrix of timelike paths. It turned out that people were most likely to be resurrected as a simulation in a world in which they had never existed, but could have, with false memories of their previous life. Rick suspected this process could be influenced, with staggering implications. No time to think about that now.)
  "If every possible mind exists, almost every member of that set would be infinite. They would understand us better than we do ourselves."
  "The third paradox: why do we exist at this point in time, only fourteen billion years after the beginning of our universe, if intelligent life is destined to exist forever?" Behind him appeared the symbols of an incomplete branch of math called Plex-f. "New universe equations are forming at all points of reality, in ways we can't begin to count. It's happening all around us. Since most universes are very young, most observers live near the beginning of time. We are probably our own universe's first intelligent minds. In the extremely unlikely case that our world is a computer simulation, it would be in our own immediate future, not more than twenty years from now." This speech could literally not have happened any sooner.
  "The fourth paradox: reality isn't quite as simple as it should be. While the end result is relatively simple, our universe has almost unlimited processing power. Nature contains an absurd level of precision, far more than it needs. Our best computers can't simulate the path of a photon for one second. Constantly voting what happens next, string particles are unimaginably small, fast, and complex. A single water molecule embodies more data than all human history." His eyes widened another millimeter. "This is the greatest mystery of all, greater than why something exists instead of nothing, or why everything exists. Some of the complexity can be eliminated, and some is shared with other universes, but not enough. Lower your hand in a swimming pool, and the change in the surrounding water is as complex as the state of your hand, which could in principle be reconstructed from the turbulence. The very patterns of our brains are copied endlessly in the heat, sound, and vibrations around us, what we call the 'Chaosphere'. Information is hard to destroy. It just become increasingly well hidden in the environment. Our awareness is multiplied outside ourselves, vastly increasing the number of observers in our universe. That is why we are here."
  Every three-year-old already knew Tarek's theories (encoded in the symbols used by several religions), and also the more popular competing one, but the math was insanely complex. Finally, there might be proof.
  Tarek paused a second before continuing, almost a century of waiting time for his combined audience. "There is hidden order in the chaos. It was first noticed in FP-State quantum relativity experiments, and supergravity distortions of five-dimensional time. Our universe is so complex it creates choices faster than they can be resolved." When the number of possible paths was a prime number, they couldn't easily merge back. "Time slows in discrete steps. High-temperature plasma becomes smooth, and gasses mix at different temperatures. The opposite can also happen: the universe can amplify slow, complex systems like ourselves. Life is more stable than it should be, evolving its own laws." With unimaginable precision, the entire universe seemed to be thinking. A more technical explanation at the bottom of the screen resembled alien poetry. "The recently discovered Singularity is the simplest possible object, making it our most valuable tool. By eliminating every wrong choice, it can define us exactly. We could become stable patterns in a new manifold, improving without end." Tarek paused, a moment he knew would be parodied many times. This was essentially an infomercial.
  To his surprise, Rick had stopped caring about the deeper meaning. He simply listened, as if it was meant to be. So many people would analyze every nuance that he couldn't hope to contribute. He heard something about risk, and an immense pay-off. An infinite number of steps could prove one plus one equaled three. At this point, he couldn't even communicate with Tarek, only resist if necessary.
  He recorded everything he saw. In the false light, his hands seemed computer-generated. The Interface walls showed multiple text streams.
  "To prove what I have just told you is true, I will now show an example of spontaneous organization in our universe," Tarek said. A video started behind him. "It all began six months ago at Belgrade University."
  Like a skydiver reaching terminal velocity, no longer weightless but hugging a mattress of air, Rick had reached a temporary balance. As with most revelations, he understood everything at once. It happened despite himself.
  The video showed him walking through the Applied Mathematics center in Uzbekistan one week ago. Using a simplified timeline, Tarek explained in two minutes how Rick's Player-0 investigation had led to the Depot "Foreigner" (who was really Ertorn), from there to the DEEFx exchange in a race against the Church of Ultimate Truth, to China's and Anonymous's secret social experiments, to the RedList/Starter scandal, their discovery of the Singularity, and finally Tarek himself, talking now like a moving statue.
  "Witnesses won't remember what actually happened, but will create their own mythology. Life will almost return to normal - until someone is ready to exploit the information I will now release. You will decide what happens next," Tarek said, as if he wouldn't presume to get involved with such matters.
  Having made the best possible case, he faded out. A green symbol flickered briefly.

  Rick let out a deep breath. He only had to wait ten seconds for the next event. Millipol was good at generating reports, and Tina read almost as fast: "The Starters just released a 1900-page document that will take us weeks to analyze. It promises something for everybody. The index lists 3-5-3 duplicators, wavoids, NNN-Space. They're definitely on to something. As mind size increases, the number of possible universes it can inhabit increases faster, so each mind must select a simplified reality, where unstable outcomes are erased. To find the best choice, we should encourage maximum diversity. End summary."
  "To fight them we must become them," Rick said to himself. 27% of the audience already believed one or more transcendental events had happened this past week.
  The UN had one advantage. The nature of progress meant that each new step was many times harder than the previous one. Too much initial success discouraged later work. Relativity, antibiotics, and every type of logic had been delayed for decades or centuries while the world caught up. This might also be the reason why the poor stayed that way. Impossible things were easy, and easy things impossible, which explained radar and diets - but there was a definite limit to how far ahead a single group could get. Beyond that point, they lost contact with reality. The Starters had never expected to win.
  The silence changed. He turned around so fast his neck hurt, and saw Tarek's face ten centimeters away. For a moment only his pupils moved. Rick thought his breath bounced back, until he realized the face was a huge projection on the wall. The real professor stepped in front of his image like an action figure. Somewhere a door echoed shut.
  Tarek rarely looked relaxed, but he could move with graceful efficiency, barely missing the obstacles in his path. Landing smoothly in a chair that had rolled in with him, he tapped four different keyboards before he stopped, possibly his last free action.
  The room flickered again, and then they were hurtling through a changing cloudscape. Every enormous turn led to scenes of accidental beauty. Rick looked for a glimpse of the ground.
  He had no idea why he said the next sentence. Perhaps he wanted to stay unpredictable. The UN needed a pretext, and he was getting mad. He wished he could see his own expression.
  "Prove your power," Rick said. "Make us disappear." His fear was existential, not visceral. There were no thugs here. They would have gotten lost on the way over.
  "Your boss will arrange that soon enough," the professor replied.
  "I'll take that as a compliment," he grumbled. Tina rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
  Rick wondered if he could still make a difference. The Starters wanted to alter a Singularity no one understood, transform themselves into living simulations, and develop a space-based civilization without central control. Humans were already absurdly vulnerable. Even the smallest atomic bomb could kill them. In fact, moving one atom in a DNA molecule could sometimes cause a deadly mutation.
  "An interesting speech, but highly premature," he said. "The UN will do all it can to delay technological progress."
  Rick felt like the last expert in an arcane art. Tina was ready to intervene if he made a mistake. He wondered how long they had been here. "Unfortunately, it appears we may not succeed. I'm authorized to make one final offer. If you delete all copies of RedList, and open your files for a full inspection, we'll grant the Starters non-territorial nation status. Like SeaLand and 2-Erewhon, you could never be abolished. We'll even let you help us study the Singularity. Maybe you can persuade us you're right."
  He and Tarek stared at a point between them, trying to visualize each other. Both were immune to threats. Rick had a spinal implant that could disconnect him from reality in two seconds flat, and Tarek had already imagined anything that might go wrong. Rick shifted his weight and moved from side to side, putting his hands behind his back. When one hand inadvertently touched a breast, he immediately pulled it back and looked around. He saw a rubber safety barrier had rolled in behind them. It confined them to the center of the Interface room. When he turned back, Tarek hadn't moved.
  "Since we arranged the terms you just offered before you even knew we existed, we have already accepted," he said. "It will take one week to inform our members."
  "You could have started last week," Rick said. He thought about arrest procedures while trying to recall the original plan. This was supposed to have been a preliminary meeting. He hadn't expected a law enforcement role.
  "You have one more minute," Tarek said helpfully.
  Might as well carry out the mission. "My initial instructions were to save the C-Project. We suspect you hid RedList in the 04-CC3 memory core, which was corrupted when your files were frozen. If you restore the Project to its original state, we won't prosecute you for your unauthorized speech. Philosophy shouldn't be banned anyway." The recording of Rick's voice, played back during the inquiry, would sound unexpectedly dramatic, as if he heard hidden drums or a sabre dance. His drug tests would come back negative, but show elevated cortisol and endorphin levels.
  "You can't make that promise."
  "The decision has already been made." Trials and lawsuits only embarrassed the UN, and rarely made the world safer.
  The Consistency Index was the worldwide search for a genuine paranormal event. Tarek was the project's general manager, and Ertorn had obviously helped him. Were there any reality flaws in human history, errors or gaps too obvious to notice? Precognition, angels, ghosts, telepathy, or reincarnation? Billions of amateurs had searched years for one anomaly that could not be explained by science. Many of them were sure they were somehow in tune with nature. There were libraries full of inexplicable stories and claims. Nothing really interesting, but very compelling. Surely they couldn't all be misinterpretations or hoaxes?
  Apparently, this was a really boring world. Nothing had ever been found, despite the indirect efforts of every scientist and journalist who had ever lived. No miracles or hidden meanings, no confirmed metacognition ever. Despite countless false alarms (most of which could eventually be explained with a list of 116 common errors), the world appeared to be perfectly rational. Four new sense organs had been discovered, and a small brain region with no discernible purpose, but no new physics. For any portion of the universe to break its own laws was harder than for it to exist in the first place.
  The C-Index did give Tarek a small but permanent advantage: every report or incident too strange even for Millipol crossed his desk. The knowledge had given him new ideas, and made him more creative.
  Tarek nodded as if he had planned this too. "The C-Index will regenerate itself this second," he said. There was a click as if to confirm it. "It has served its purpose. Hidden signs, coincidences, destiny - everyone thinks they're special, as if they deserve to exist." His calm tone somehow made it worse. "So sad it had to end this way. For five years, Millipol tried to absorb us with bribes, logic, and threats. We were the only group which refused to cooperate, for reasons which will soon become clear. One thing you said is true: we can't all exist. You'll have to pass one more test. If you survive, you'll be ready for the real challenge." He spoke as if he had arranged it all.

  The room broke up into shards, fluorescent lines colliding and collapsing. Rick glimpsed partial diagrams, and a single baffling form. There was no time to focus before the light went out.
  Their heartbeats caught up, amplified like footfalls. Tina shone a laser through the darkness, looking for a reflection, someone who knew what they were doing.
  "Professor Tarek has escaped," she spoke in her microphone. "He may try to surrender to the media, or kill himself." Still no response.
  "Which way out?" Rick asked. "Let's beat him to the exit." He turned around. "I think that's a wall."
  Tina was a great observer, who had applied to become an inspector herself. She ignored Rick as he looked for the barrier. "He's trying to confuse us," she said. "That's what this is about, not whatever big breakthrough he claims to have found. We live on the ground floor of reality. At our level, nothing really matters."
  "I'm sure he's right." Should he live life to the fullest, or just give up?
  If mankind had a sudden, shared insight, the Net Czar would know. There would be less arguing, but more bizarre search clusters. Rick didn't worry about the long-term. He couldn't change the future. It did fine without him.
  Their escape took five minutes. The projection room floor kept tilting, rolling, and sliding, until Rick simulated a heart attack to trigger the emergency exit. In the next room they met eight soldiers with bare, sculpted heads under transparent helmets, and short-barreled guns on armored shoulders. Even the brown soldiers looked Aryan. They carried grenades and demolition coils like snakes. For a few seconds no one moved. Every bomb was already exploding, all its fast-moving particles confined in a chemical trap. The detonation merely slowed them down.
  Rick stopped and raised his hands, but the troops waved them on. They passed a group of Artifact investigators carrying large black cases ("We exist to preserve"), who could extract data from ripples of paint.
  "Tarek is under arrest," Tina announced. "He surrendered to a Millipol agent in a game arcade two blocks north. They're already manipulating each other. He named several international conspirators, so they're taking him to the North Sea Prison. The soldiers would have shipped him to Spandau."
  Avoiding the elevators, they circled through a jumble of stairways and short halls, slowly returning to reality. Rick's memories of the meeting added up to about 5 MB of compressed data. It might contaminate all the rest. He would return to a changed world, with fewer secrets and more mysteries.
  The entrance lobby was like an old dream. Finally, they reached the evening heat. Gusts curved around the high walls. With the building at their backs, the low sun shimmered off the pavement like mist. Rick realized he had become part of history, as arbitrary as any date or death toll.