Part 6: Particle Line
Metallic ribbons intertwining, splitting and splintering, fusing and twisting, were the foundation of the Time Stream. The ribbons, small and finely crafted, had the viscosity of syrup. Some believed touching the streams of time produced an electrically charged vibration that was the soul of all that ever was and may be. A few believed the Time Stream itself was a god.
The machine-people administering the Time Stream knew otherwise. Their description was decidedly vague but included the noteworthy point that it was not the construct of a god, for one could trace the Time Stream back to the birth or first appearance of any god. Those portions of the Time Stream were encrypted and protected from public purview.
With permission from the machine-people to perform a data acquisition test, Brangot watched as Diotitus reviewed his own hand-scribbled notes taken during a brief meeting with the machine-people earlier in the day. The two spoke excitedly over the previous day about how to build a device to track every particle in the known and unknown universe using the Time Stream, but there was still tension over the revelation that Brangot’s people had been at war with the humans. There was also a more overt tension; neither really knew what they were doing.
Diotitus set his notes down and looked up at Brangot with a drawn face. He felt tired from sitting through the meeting with the machine-people, and realized he had not been to his apartment nor slept in more than three days. “Brangot, look, I don’t really feel one way or the other about what went on between your people and humans. It would have been nice if you had told me, but I guess I understand your reservations.”
Brangot nodded. The slightest of smiles crossed his lips. “It was a difficult time for my people. But were I to answer your question regarding my home world and I pointed to human heaven and said, there, my home world once existed where human heaven now stands, I think it would have been hard to accept.”
Diotitus said, “I want you to know there are no hard feelings coming from this side of the Time Stream.”
“Are you ready to tell me how you plan on finding the secret to Creation Mathematics?” Brangot asked.
“No, sorry,” he said. “If I give any hint or indication, the gods will know about it. Even if they aren’t spying on us, I’m sure the machine-people are. I suppose it’s really a simple thing.”
Diotitus smirked and cocked his head. “You know, I think I’m starting to spew the same babble Tif was saying.”
Brangot shrugged. “May I be of any help then?”
Diotitus nodded. “Yes. I hope you were listening this morning. We need to create a by-pass, so I have the by-pass module here,” and he held up what resembled a simple, bent pipe. “We need two time filters, two entity filters, and two engram filters.” He held up three different sets of small disks.
“Those look like they would be the ones,” Brangot said. “They’re clearly marked, anyway. Is this going to cause any problems?”
Diotitus shook his head. “These are beginner filters and have some sort of built-in safeguards against creating a paradox, and they won’t allow us to make any significant changes.”
“I suppose all I need to do,” Diotitus started, “is add the by-pass to the Time Stream.” He touched one end of the bent-pipe to the Time Stream, and it remained in place even as the metallic ribbons representing time flowed around it. “Next, we add a filter for a specific person at a specific time,” he continued, and affixed two of the filters to one end of the by-pass. He paused, and then after some thought, turned the pipe around so the filtered end was in the stream. “Add the same to the other end,” and he affixed the other set of filters to the opposite end. “And, now, the really clever part.” He added one engram filter to each end of the pipe, and then pushed the by-pass fully into the Time Stream.
“What now?” Brangot asked.
Diotitus shrugged. “I have no idea.” He picked up the by-pass and turned it over in his hands, examining the engram filters on each end. He narrowed his eyes, searching for some indication of change, and then removed one of the engram filters and set the by-pass down on the ground. Excited silence overwhelmed him and he held up the filter for Brangot to see. “A bit horrific how simple that was.”
Brangot scrunched his eyebrows down. “You have it?”
“Next, we need to construct this,” Diotitus said and held up the scrawled drawing they had made.
“The machine-people have equipment to automatically construct tools and other machines,” Brangot said. “I suppose we could solicit their help. What else remains?”
“We need to figure out where to store so much data, and how to access it,” Diotitus said. “And I wonder if the answer is the idea we are supposed to share with Tif. So, we can ask the machine-people to help build the device, we can add in the contents of the engram filter, and then we can concentrate on Tif.”
The machine-people were receptive to helping Diotitus and Brangot build blueprint. Diotitus had the impression the machine-people were glad someone took an interest in their work, though Brangot remained wary of their motivation. In less than four hours, the majority of the device was finished by many thousands of spider-legged machine-helpers. Their spherical white bodies and cartoon-like legs moved quickly and responded to everything from abstract thought to specific details. At one point, one of the bots took the engram filter from Diotitus. He didn’t think to voice his concern, though hoped that if the machine-people were aware of the contents they would keep the information secured.
“It’s amazing,” Brangot remarked while the device was constructed. “I’m amazed we’ve lasted this long.”
“What do you mean?” Diotitus asked.
“Look,” and he gestured with all four arms and hands to the thousands of machine-helpers working on their device. “We haven’t been saved, yet we are able to build complex things with only a thought.”
“This one time,” Diotitus said. “It’s not as though the machine-people might let us use their facilities again, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Not only the device, but everything in Oblivion. If we had been saved, how would another afterworld better suit us? Beyond the pleasantries of color and, I imagine, the requisite devotion to one or more gods, it seems to me that we may partake in many of the same benefits of the saved.”
“Speak for yourself,” Diotitus said half-jokingly, and then asked, “Why do you think it’s amazing we have lasted so long?”
“Our every vice, active or lethargic, overfed and overconsumed, for eternity. I’m amazed we’re not Droolers ourselves. We’ve spent so much time here, yet what do we really know about it? We see its boundaries, but not its fruits.” He watched as the machine-helpers went about their work. “I’ve been to the Time Stream countless times, and have conversed with the machine-people on many occasions. I know their names, their expression and models, their histories. But I never went beyond exploratory questions in whose answers I had no genuine interest. I have only been passing time.
“Is this why Droolers give up on existence?” As Brangot spoke, the machine-helpers fashioned new filters and polished the device casing. “I’m amazed because in these last few days I realized I stopped trying to better myself. I simply existed and simply consumed, grossly gorged and grossly fasted, mindlessly wandered and emotionlessly fornicated, and all for what? To forget who I am.”
Diotitus said, “I suppose I’m confused. The gods never made themselves available or approachable. Now that I’ve met them, it isn’t any different than what I remember from life.”
Diotitus looked at his hands, a bitter thought crossing his mind, and then he looked up at Brangot. “Do you still feel like the same person you were when you died?”
Brangot smiled. “You do realize we have this conversation at least once a year.”
“But it seems different now,” Diotitus said. “I always thought of Oblivion as a dark and forgotten corner
in the After-Life, and not a place where all afterworlds are joined.”
The machine-helpers stopped moving and retreated to the edges of the workshop floor. In the center rest a metallic primary-blue cube, two meters on all sides. One side held two screens, several controls, and an array of detachable filters for the Time Stream. Several connections were identified for data storage. With the exception of where the data would be stored, the device appeared to be self-contained and sealed.
“What would prevent someone from coming along and taking this?” Diotitus asked.
Three machine-helpers scurried across the floor, and each dropped a large, unique key at Diotitus’ and Brangot’s feet, and then scurried away. The first key was shaped like a palm-sized obelisk colored primary-green. Brangot’s name was etched in heavy block print on each side. The second key was shaped to fit over the first key, colored primary-yellow, and bore Diotitus’ name. The third key was torus-shaped, it’s interior was cut to fit the base of the first key, and its anterior shaped to fit a beveled portion of the second key. The third key bore Tif’s name.
Diotitus crouched, picked up the keys, and passed Brangot’s to his friend’s awaiting palm, and then offered him Tif’s. “You should hold onto hers.”
“Assuming the keys are of significant worth, previous romantic involvement shouldn’t dictate who is more responsible.” Brangot gently pushed Tif’s key to Diotitus. “I think it is precisely because you’re relationship with Tif is not complicated by romantic relations that you should hold it until she is ready to take it.”
Diotitus smiled at his friend. “If we can’t wake up Tif, these won’t really matter.”
A machine-person approached from the hallway and entered the workshop. “Pardon the interruption.”
Both men turned to see a machine-person they had not met before.
“I see your device has been constructed and suitably safeguarded.” The machine-person walked around the device and then inspected the keys. It extended a humanoid hand to Brangot, who shook it, and then Diotitus, who did likewise. “My name is Moto.”
Diotitus and Brangot introduced themselves, however, Diotitus suspected Moto already knew their names.
“I am impressed with your recovery of the Creation Mathematics algorithms,” Moto said to Diotitus. “I admit to being surprised when souls from primitive eras are able to work with complicated and technical processes.”
Diotitus wasn’t sure how to take Moto’s remark, and said, “Thanks, I think. It didn’t seem that hard. You’ve made it easy to work with the Time Stream, and your helpers did all of the work. We only thought about what we wanted.”
Moto’s smoothly cut and narrow silver lips twisted into a knowing smile. “Knowing what you want is sometimes all that matters. With our permission, any soul may have used our facilities to fabricate any number of simple or complex items, but only the two of you, and your absent friend, thought to make this.” It gestured to the device with a delicately crafted arm.
“But, we were told to make it,” Brangot said. “Tif had an idea, the gods somehow found out about it, and they asked us to finish the idea. We may as well have followed a trail of bread crumbs.”
Moto continued to smile. “When is any idea or creation not at the end of a trail? Every scrap of insight, each mental faculty that brings distinction to abstract thought, all contribute to the trail.”
“I think the gods contributed more than a few scraps information,” Brangot said.
“Yet, the device in this room came from your minds, not theirs,” Moto contested. “And,” it continued, “The gods have their own means to quickly construct technologically advanced products. It would have been a simple matter for any god to create this, and having direct access to the Time Stream could have been arranged.”
“Then, why didn’t Gerard, or any one of the gods, create the device?” Diotitus asked. “They sounded as though they knew what it was supposed to do.”
“Knowing what needs to be done and visualizing a means to meet that need are two different skills.” Moto looked between Diotitus and Brangot. “In all of your years living in Oblivion, you have managed to gain new skills and acquire new information. However, and I apologize for overhearing your earlier conversation, you continued to live the life of who you were, and not the life of who you are. You do not realize that you grasp technological advances. A more succinct description is they lacked the creativity to visualize this type of solution. Our involvement,” and it gestured to the facilities and machine-helpers, “Only expedited construction.”
Moto continued after a momentary pause, “You were right to be careful about the acquisition of the formulas, and I want you to know its implementation is secure in the device.”
Diotitus said, “Thank you.”
Moto glanced at Brangot and went on, “The Time Stream isn’t merely a representation of time. It is every particle in every universe over time, represented by intertwining streams. One can filter and alter those streams, though we try to prevent altering events. Diotitus thought to give a name to the idea that would blossom into Creation Mathematics, and implant the name in Dober Jung’s mind sometime the past. While making a slight alteration in time, it was ultimately insignificant. He then extracted the information by searching for the name in the particles of the Time Stream.”
“Ingenious,” Brangot admitted. “But isn’t it dangerous if you allow anyone to read the mind of gods like that?”
Moto nodded. “Yes. However, I was aware why you were here and of the impending Grand Disaster. After all, we administer the Time Stream and the gods may not recycle periods of time without our involvement.”
“About the Grand Disaster and the Time Stream,” Moto continued, “I wanted to pass along some small bit of information that was made known to me within the last hour. The majority of gods have ruled there is not enough evidence to confirm a Grand Disaster will occur, and they have voted for time to move forward.”
Brangot looked at Moto with noticeable concern. “Were our efforts for nothing?”
“On the contrary, whether a Grand Disaster does occur, I believe you will find great reward in what you have accomplished.” Moto glanced about the room, “and I hope you will not forget our assistance.”
“How could we forget?” Diotitus asked. “Without your help we wouldn’t have been able to start.”
“About the decision, I wanted to let you know to impress upon you the importance of completing the device. If the Grand Disaster does come about, you must be ready.”
“When will time move forward?” Brangot asked.
“It has already started,” Moto replied.