Casualties Of Momentum

Tanya stared at viewport, actively ignoring the screen. Space was vast. Dark. Their fleet was so tiny compared to the Empty. But not small celestially. She glanced down to the display. Choked back a sob.

“Coffee for your burden?”

She jerked. Turned. The man was small and frail. Looked eighty but was far older. Tanya didn’t look much better, she was sure. She forced a smile that stretched the crepe paper skin of her face. Felt like it tore. “Yes. Why are you here?”

“I can’t sleep.” The bags under his eyes were deep. Whatever sleep issues plagued him, they’d been there for a while.

Rook hobbled forward and set the mug on the counter. Steam rose from the cup. Filled the air before her with the aroma that made her stomach clench. Little more than recycled water run through a fermented mushroom siv. With trembling hand she lifted and drank deep.

They stared out the viewport. As an Oculus class capital ships, it sat on the outskirts of the fleet. The only ones that could get an angle that showed no other ships.

With a sigh and a nod at nothing, Rook asked “Coming along?”

She glanced at the screen, trying not to look at the green fog. “Mechanical digestion almost complete.”

“Chemical next.”

Not a question. Tanya took another sip of the bitter liquid. Took in a stuttering breath and blinked back costly tears. Cosmically costly.

“What troubles you?” Rook asked.

She kept quiet. He knew.

He placed a gentle hand on her forearm. Small comfort. More than she had and not nearly enough. In his hand was a small tube, like a thick stylus, similar to ones preferred by those with tremors.

“Ever wonder how we got here?” She asked.

“Sometimes. I’ve avoided the connective tissue.”

Tanya scoffed. “Losing battle. Once you start, it all falls into place so easily.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

She pondered before responding “Because it would not have gone any other way.”

“It could have.”

“Could. But never would. Not for us.”

Rook grimaced. “Whether I want to know or not, if it cannot be avoided, then let us rip the bandaid off. Unburden yourself.” He pressed the button on his stylus.

Click

Tanya resisted as long as she could: a few moments. Waved her hand and the viewport changed, guided by the neural mesh threaded into her brain, popping to archived footage from the early days of humanity. “Threads of our decisions echo back endlessly.”

Rook nodded. “Trying to identify a precise moment where all future decisions would have changed significantly is pointless.”

“So we say. Probably true. But we can identify moments that are inextricably bound to the current mindset. An Ouroboric Zeitgeist.”

His eyes narrowed. “That could be considered Heresy of the Prime Directive.”

She smirked. Demonized opinions could get you repurposed as a danger to the collective. If he turned her in she would be recycled into the protein stores. “If I die, I die.”

He did not look pleased at her quoting from the expansionist dogma.

“In my opinion, the first major step to end up where we are was here. Just before world war three, there was a global dichotomy about the value of a person. They valued individuals, but only of their own alignment, be it political, religious, or some overlap of mindset. Everyone outside those alignments, especially the opposition, became exponentially less valuable. When the war started, it sparked an existential wildfire. A movement began that unified people beyond government or faith, with a shared interest in the survival of every individual, especially children.”

“Children are the future,” he said.

She stopped pretending to smile. “The movement was incredibly successful. From every culture and within every army rose rebellions. Overwhelmed those in power and overthrew them.”

“Consumed them,” he said.

They looked at the display, showing a wide view of the local solar system. Seven planets with a red giant at the center, from edge to edge. The planets were little more than specs of light the computers highlighted with designated tags. When signals took light hours, the scale should be small. A green oblong fog stretched across the display. Humanity, in all its glory.

“It was a rousing success,” she continued. “The new government was dubbed The Unification. Formed under the near communistic idea of equal value and equal sharing. There was corruption, of course. But the fanatical believers militarized. Kept those in power on their toes.” Tsk. Displayed on the viewport was a montage of court proceedings and politicians whos failings were taught for several generations.

“Do you suppose the dispersal of resources was caused by The Unification or would it have occurred on its own if humanity remained ideologically fractured?” he asked, folding his arms, the stylus gripped against his arm between them.

“Impossible to know. We didn’t before, thus both events are inextricably tied together after.” The Tanya reflected in the dark liquid of her cup stared back with haunted eyes. “With all food dispersed evenly, even with existing farmland, global starvation was eradicated. Birth rates rose. Then the realization that usable food production and population growth was unsustainable on earth. So we spread to the stars.”

The display shifted again. The first permanent star stations, colonies, and layered solar farms. The first generational starships. Breatkthroughs in star travel. The first systems colonized. It halted on a news display of a food supply flotilla heading to a Systemgate to a distant colony.

“With Systemgates and Cosmic Threading we could achieve faster than light travel. They had their own limitations. Nothing was instantaneous. Even when supplies were abundant and we could feed every world, the logistics of getting supplies there was limited. We couldn’t feed every world on time. Starvation began. The Law of Dispersal meant worlds producing the most food had to ship the largest quantities, before dispersal, leaving their rationing populace to watch the bulk of their output shuttled up space elevators.

Rook’s eyes were sad staring at the food flotillas. “The War On Hunger.”

“Wherein we made two pivotal decisions.” She sipped the stained water, now room temperature. “By making the enemy non-human, we preserved the unification that had fueled the age of star exploration. Hordes of food were positioned at strategic points in order to facilitate transportation. It worked for a while. But the midway points were never equidistant. Some worlds just took longer to get the food they needed, even shunted through Systemgates”

The screen shifted to show people protesting on different worlds with skies ranging from cerulean blue to burnt orange to purple. Protesters in envirosuits or open air.

“Adjustments were made, letting high production worlds keep their quota earlier. At mining worlds and asteroid crackers the calorie burn rate was higher, a factor not previously considered, production fell. Material loss trickled in lower food production as machines could not be as easily maintained or replaced. Shifting the other direction resulted in lethargy of farming world populace.”

“Causing lower food production,” Rook said.

“Just so. It had become a death spiral. Every change deepened the valley, spreading the hunger. A decision needed to be made. Valuing individual life, we focused on automation: for the ships moving food or on food production itself. Out of fear, we chose both.”

Tsk. Displayed were the great block factories; conveyor belts, automated arms, soil analyzers, sunlamps, and vats growing algae.

Tsk. Now shown were ship command decks; flashing lights, digital displays with a single figure watching over them. An entire ship manned by one person.

“The thinking was that this would free up more labor to work alongside the machines focused on building more ships or more automated drones. For that, we needed materials. A majority of the now defunct crews were redesignated to mining corporations and dockyards. Having spent generations ins pace, they were not physically accustomed to constant gravity and intense physical labor. Medical needs and calorie consumption exploded. To meet the increased needs, automated farms focused on enhanced foods. Genetic crossbreeds greater in size and calories. Large, dense, colorless root bulbs that didn’t need the sunlamps, freeing space for more food production. Morale sank from flavorless food even as starvation rates dropped. Before we realized the longterm psychological effects, factory neural nets discovered that the most efficient food source was a modified dense algae. It grew fast. Required little. Survived the cold of space. A flavorless, nutrient rich gruel. Spread to people that were shuffled to jobs of hard labor; mining and construction.”

“Causing The Dejection.”

“What we labled the species wide demorilization, yes.”

Tsk. Displayed were dead eyed people before assembly lines or swarming over asteroids and metal rich worlds with constant streams of automated ships stuffed to the brim with The Gruel.

“Individual output suffered but starvation rates dropped. Talks about implementing quality of life improvements inevitably hit the wall of causing eventual starvation. Birth rates dropped. As people aged out of “useful labor” age, material needs suffered. The next great debate was over two options. First was The Breeding Initiative; putting genetically optimal people on soft planets with the sole intent of reproducing. A promise of supreme quality of life so long as offspring were produced regularly. Failure to meet quota would result in repurposing back to the mines.”

With a nod, Rook commented “Lots of backlash for that.”

“Same for the other option. The Vats. Grown humans. We chose the latter.”

“Best of the bad options.”

“I guess. The thought was if we could resolve the survival and labor needs, focus could shift.”

“Ensure survival then make survival worthwhile.”

Tanya clenched her jaw, staring at the last of the dirty water. “Started as that. Evolved to becom Ensured survival makes survival worthwhile.”

Tsk. Displayed were endless lines of pasty skinned humans, staring with dull, bloodshot eyes. Meloncholy radiated off them like heat. Gel seats rose from the floor, mechanical tentacles hugging them tight to compensate for hard acceleration.

Her voice was rough when she continued. “Endless expansion in a search for more material. Before coming to terms with that decision, we were faced with a new crossroad. Really the resurgence of an old one; Humanities needs grew exponentially faster than our ability to evolve. Two sides grew out of that conflict. Guided Evolution: combining desirable genetics and accelerated vat growth in an attempt to churn out generations in a matter of a few years. Or Transhumanist: integrating technological advancements directly into our existing population.”

Rook stared into the tarry dregs of his own cup. “Meet Tomorrow Today and Seize Your Future.” He frowned. “Worst slogans.”

“Once more, out of fear, we did both.” Tanya scratched at her temple, tugging at the wires snaked beneath the skin. “Separated by Cognitive Adaptability Tests and physical acuity. Just like that, we had a caste system again. Redubbed The Alignment. Intelligence deemed more important for the development of technological improvements. You and I are from the most intelligent stock. Calling us Modified. Running the Oculus ships with enhanced longevity and technological integration, in charge of monitoring the fleet and participating in research. Everyone else sent into the labor ships and augmented with drugs and exoskeletons that could be swapped out when someone dies.”

“The Grown.” Rook set his cup on the terminal between them. Half empty. Teetering on the edge. “We’re lucky.” His tone disagreed.

“Last we figured out how to contain micro black holes and utilize them. Full Matter Conversion. All matter reduced to subatomic particles, then restructured into usable matter.”

Tsk. The display shifted, showing the surface of the planet below them in real time. A usable atmosphere was present when they’d arrived. Life had evolved. Possibly sentience. It changed nothing. All The Alignment saw was proteins and matter. The current display showed the surface stripped bare. The whole surface ground down to a single flat desert of chewed earth. Tubes descended from the sky, snaking from the enzyme and plasma ships. When the planet was chewed down enough, chemicals would follow, reducing it to soup, then sucked back up where it would be run through contained micro blackholes, spaghettified into raw, charged matter. From there it would go to conversion ships that would turn raw matter into fuel and food.

“We changed,” Rook said. “All ships were converted into plated organics. Self healing. Self propelling. So long as they have food.”

“Just like us.”

“Except they don’t age.”

She closed her eyes against the tears, relishing their burn. The cost of each could be measured in planets. Emotional control for Modified like her was essential. She’d be evaluated for the unnecessary cost. The Grown hardly felt anything. Every hundredth iteration there was a bad batch, waking from their birth screaming. Lobotomized and reprogrammed. Life above all. She didn’t envy Rook. Her task was to monitor the ships and digestion of celestial bodies. His to monitor the workforce.

“Should I trigger the Dyson Ships?” he asked.

She blinked. Tsk. The display showed the circular ships were already en route to the sun. They’d surround it. Link. Capture the energy. Siphon it into the fleet. Each star offered the boost needed to fling a gate to the next star system. Hibernation to conserve energy as they waited. When the destination Systemgate was ready, the fleet would wake.

“Have you seen the projections?” She asked.

He lowered his head.

“Even hibernating we consume too much energy. If we slow down even a little or don’t strip each solar system down to atoms, the starvation cascade would be catastrophic. This,” she waved her hand, the display flashing across the fleet. From light hours beyond the edge of the solar system, the fleet looked like a single cosmic amoeba. Stretched out to consume all there was. “This is us. Humanity. Our legacy is a wormtrail through the blanket of stars. Some projections posit we will consume every star before heat death.”

“Impossible,” Rook scoffed. Looking at the fleet display, his face sobered. “Wormholes using Systemgates and Cosmic Threading were footnotes. Without them, we could not have achieved this.”

“I think their discovery was inevitable. But perhaps you’re right.” She sighed, wiped the tears from her cheeks and sucked the moisture off her fingers. The salt burned her tongue. “Each decision lead us here. Moving forward, constant consumption, is the only way to survive. Any delay costs so many lives it is unconscionable. If we had made hard choices earlier, we wouldn’t be here. Even the lesser movements that hardly show as footnotes in history would have been steps in the right direction.”

“Ecological Balance,” Rook said. “Letting the population ebb and flow until equilibrium with our environment occurs.”

“Progress would have been slower. Maybe even plateau.”

“Is that really better though? Would not another species have eventually reached this and consumed us?”

Again her eyes were drawn to the shape of the fleet on the display. Civilization grown so vast it reverted to the simple consume and reproduce cycle of the smallest single cell lifeforms. “As above, so below,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“An old saying.”

“Ah.” He sucked on his teeth.

She knew his behaviors, recognizing an internal debate. Tanya gave him space and silence. They watched the slow consumption of the system, net closing around the local sun. When the chemicals began flooding the world closest to the star, his shoulders squared and he exhaled the decision.

“In Fringe Research, there has been some…discoveries. Theories about sending signals through quantum foam.”

Tanya frowned. “I’ve heard. Theoretically sending signals back or forward in time. But it’s tied to multiversal resonance. Even if we could send a message through time it wouldn’t affect us.”

Nodding, he said “Causing a branch or reaching one aligned because we always would. That is the theory. But the technology is so simple.”

Click

She frowned at the stylus he’d been holding.

His eyes stared into her, earnest. Pleading. “If things were terrible and getting worse and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop it, what would you do?”

Her eyes widened. Rook held the stylus up. It was dim, near transparent as it hummed at a revolving resonance, fueled by a micro black hole, which could eat light and time. Forbidden tech because according to the automated neural net theoretical meant possible and anything possible that could cause a fractional loss of life then it was deemed dangerous and destroyed. To have such a thing implied much: immense patience, knowledge of the ship surveillance, and sacrifice of time to construct on one’s private hours reserved for sleep and recovery. How much sleep had he sacrificed? For how long? How much anxiety had he suffered to get here?

“What’d you do?” she whispered, as alarms already blared from deep in the ship. She placed her hand over his, holding the stylus together.

“Recorded everything you said. Ready to send it home before the Unification.” He squeezed her hand. “What. Would you. Do?”

When the tears came, she let them. She loved him in that moment. First time for everything. For the hope his efforts had bloomed in her. His thumb hovered over the button on top..

The bridge opened and egg shaped automated bots rushed in brandishing razor sharp claws for peeling hull plating from a starship.

For the first time in her life, she laughed. Unfamiliar muscles spasmed and ached in her throat. Her words were barely a croak. “I’d try.”

They pressed the button.