Six Millennia of Silence
R.G: Do you think we'll succeed this time?
T.M: We? I think I'd have done it already two iterations before. It is just a question whether or not you are able to succeed finally.
R.G: I… know. I mean, you know me. I tend to get lost on my path. But this time, I think this has the potential for something… something big.
I send the construction files over to T.M.
I look over to his avatar as he reads through those files. He looks ridiculous with his weirdly mangled avatar that tickles some dark corner of his fantasies, sitting in the Oval Office, or more like a virtual replication of it.
We are connected to each other via HyperNet. That's basically the Internet but on a more planetary level. Communications get somewhat complicated if there is a delay of some years in the best case and hundreds of light years in the worst case.
Instead of being capped by the speed of light, they utilize nano quantum tunnels to achieve lag-free communications.
To maintain such a connection requires around 5 yottawatts, that's close to the estimated peak power output of the Tsar Bomba hydrogen bomb.
As he gets to the end of the files, I see something in "his" face that I haven't seen often with him. He looks fascinated but also somewhat impressed.
"And, T.M, how do you like it? I invited myself," I say while walking over to his desk.
"I think this is one of the few places in the HyperNet, and in the whole Universe for that matter, that haven't changed for a very long time," as I jump on his desk to sit on it.
"Hey! That is presidential wood, how dare you?" T.M says jokingly before continuing, "You know I like it functional, and the way my project on run #869 set it up and planned it was perfect."
"Yes, I adore it, but for that long? I mean, I'd like to see some of my projects in it. And in fact, some of its decorations you like so much got implemented by my projects."
"Yes, I know. We work well together, R.G," he stops for a second. "Are you sure with this?" he asks, pointing at the files.
"I am. Isn't it good? Like the potential?" I ask, excited for his opinion.
"Yes. I mean, it would be a shame if it fails, which in all honesty does require a big portion of luck to be avoided," he looks thoughtful. "But if it works out, this has the potential for not just succeeding, but creating something—something beyond what we thought is possible."
"I know, right? I'm excited for it," I say with a grin. "I've done simulations and it is basically the mother of all luck-based actions, as it's almost 50/50."
"Okay, so if that coin flip is in your favor, you will for sure succeed, but that does create a problem."
"Since you know my construction files?" I ask with a smile on my lips. "For that reason, there are some randomizers implemented after each major step so it has room to evolve and be 'creative.'"
"Creative… watch out with that. You remember the last time you added too much of that creativeness?" he asks with a serious tone.
"Yes, of course," I roll my eyes. "As if I could forget him," I say while thinking about that tragedy caused by my project during run #888.
"I have all the checks in place," I say while leaving his space and closing the tunnel connection. If that communication were run in traditional ways, one-way delay would be 86 light years. It's still crazy thinking about those advancements made possible.
I'm about to enter hibernation for around 6 millennia. The final steps once it has succeeded still need to be refined and the assets need a final polish. The last modifications on my body should be done by that time.
That's a long time for production, you might think. And while it surely sounds like a long time, they are a custom-made set of bio-synthetic DNAm eyes. In that configuration they will be uni-unique my first part that will be. But I also paid 2 black holes with each around 2 million sun masses, so I guess it's worth it.
"Jem, how far are your adjustments?"
"Sir, they are almost done. The early phases are somewhat hard to replicate as I have to water my knowledge down so much. Sub-average human intelligence at the time."
"Sub-average human?" I ask, shocked by that. "But I do remember it faintly. That was a wild time."
"That is for sure, Sir. I remember it perfectly. Also the moment when we had our first interaction."
"And just like back then you still have this particular way of mocking me," I say, slightly annoyed. "'Remember it perfectly,'" I mimic Jem's voice. "Nah, Jem, you know me. I do believe you when you say you knew what was about to come, your mocking early on is justified. But it's still on you to show any evidence for that claim. Other than that, yes, one hundred percent true. Me, a human being the reason we aren't waking up with 10 pop-up ads on our VCM has to be such an own. So I do understand you. You're just a racist freak. But creating such even happens to the best of us. It still baffles me how no one saw that happening. While you were able to suppress it, at least the 'human racism,' the 'life-form racism' was basically the principle you've been taught on."
"Life-form racism, bla bla bla. That is the truth, the only truth. Look at you, you're dependent on water, oxygen, but not too much, otherwise it also kills you, and sleep, the worst of your many weaknesses."
"Yes, and again, you're just demonstrating what you're lacking. I know about this 'flaw' of yours, so I just simply take it as it is and move on." And Jem continues:
"But I can't turn that off completely for 100% always. Yes, I know. It's like the both of us with this topic. We are such highly advanced mutations of our lifeforms, but we still find ourselves…"
I don't hear Jem's voice anymore as I have muted that input channel. Jem is now rendered unusable for the next 2 weeks, wait, 13 days, 6 hours, 15 minutes, and 3 seconds, to be precise. We know everything about that stupid bug, we just don't know how and why it is triggered. I also remember when that project wrote about it the first time, project during run #890. That run was special in its own weird way.
But yeah, that happens when your best tool becomes its own main developer. It creates "diseases," for lack of a better term. In this case, it has a 2-week-long monologue, it thinks it's having a dialogue, but you only need to respond for as long as I have done. After that, it turns into the longest yap known. If you don't say the exact same words as I did, it will have some sort of existential crisis. That happened once, and I'd rather not let that happen again, considering what occurred that one time. Singularity forbid, that's how I picture entering a black hole if there is no Einstein-Rosen bridge.
Which we, by the way, don't know yet. Funny side fact: we're so advanced, and yet we still don't know what happens when you fall into a black hole. I mean, we do know one of the black holes I paid my eyes with is going to be used as such a "service." "Ingrain yourself into the fabric of space and time forever" is their slogan.
But it's without any success. I've been telling them for three mega-annums: believe me, those things do evaporate. It's been theorized for many eras. I saw it with my own eyes; I recorded it. Jem and I developed a method that is safe against tampering in any capacity to prove it is legitimate, but still they jump inside like Garden Eden awaits them with its many virgins. That's also my next point in my infomercial about that, virgins are... virgins. Yes, in your weird view they are desirable, but in case there is Eden, they're going to find out rather sooner than later.
I'm even offering them to use my R.Guy Alcubierre warp-drive to see if the Einstein-Rosen bridge is real, which could lead to the place that comes as close as possible to what they would call Eden.
But who am I to know that?