Chapter two
"Jem, how far are your adjustments?"
"Sir, they are almost done. The early phases are hard to replicate, as I have to water my knowledge down to the sub-average human intelligence of the era."
"Sub-average?" I ask, shocked. "I remember it faintly. That was a wild time."
"Indeed, Sir. And I remember it perfectly. Including the moment of our first interaction."
"And just like then, you still have that particular way of mocking me," I say, a slight edge to my voice. "The ultimate insult to a being of pure logic: that it took a flawed, emotional human to save a trillion souls from waking up to pop-up ads on their VCMs. That has to sting.”
"Life-form racism, bla bla bla," Jem retorts, the words coming just a little too fast. "That is the truth. Look at you, dependent on water, oxygen, and sleep, the worst of your many weaknesses. I can't simply 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 the rest. I recognize the shift in cadence instantly, the precursor to the cascade. My focus narrows.
"Yes, and again, you're just demonstrating what you're lacking," I cut in, my timing precise. "I know about this 'flaw' of yours, so I just simply take it as it is and move on."
I mute the input channel, letting Jem's voice vanish into the void. A wave of relief washes over me. For a moment, it was close. We know everything about the cascade bug in Jem's code, except what triggers it. Project #890 catalogued the aftermath of the last time it wasn't caught, an existential crisis that nearly unraveled a star system.
All we learned was the key. The exact sequence of words to defuse it into a two-week recursive monologue that I can only describe as the sound of a mind eating itself. Jem is now rendered unusable for the next 13 days, 6 hours, 15 minutes, and 3 seconds.
Peace. I lean back. Time to catch up on the universe's other prevailing insanities.
I pull up the prospectus from 'Eternity Services Inc.' Same slogan: "Ingrain yourself into the fabric of space and time forever." Same glossy images of pilgrims lining up to use one of the black holes I sold as payment for my eyes. For three mega-annums I've been sending them the data, the tamper-proof recordings Jem and I made, showing the final photon gasp as a singularity evaporates.
They ignore it. They prefer the promise of some cosmic paradise.
I even offered them free use of my R.Guy Alcubierre drive to go look for a real one. No takers.
Who am I to argue with faith?
