The Golden Transcendence

REALITY

They met in a small winter garden, a place where crystal-basined fountains sent lazy streams to wander across green lawns and past banks of tropical bushes, down into a wide ebony pond that hid a nanomachine recycling process. Up from the pool rose tall tree adaptations, which, by capillary action, drew refreshed waters up from the pool and sent them trickling down again, from the leafy canopy above, into the murmuring fountains. The far wall beyond the fountains was made of energy mirrors, which showed, as if from a high perspective, a view like the gulf of a canyon made of gold, down which a river of white fire flowed. This was the starboard drive core, still undergoing modifications.

Atkins stood on the grass, his back to the mirrors, frowning up at the leafy recyclers, the blossoms, and the songbirds. He was thinking how unlike a warship this vessel seemed. Helion was standing facing the other way, looking down into a river of energy in the drive core his unaided eye could not have tolerated to see, webbed with fields his unaided mind would not have been able to understand. He was comparing engineering system philosophies between the Phoenix and his Array, and thinking how peaceful, by contrast, his work was compared to his son's. Phaethon used an architecture priority called whole competitive model, where redundant parallel systems competed for resources, and the most efficient or most determined equipment absorbed its less efficient neighbors, or adapted those neighbors to take on new tasks.

That philosophy made this vessel extraordinarily easy to adapt to warlike uses. Helion wondered darkly if that had been his son's intention from the first.

Atkins turned and saw Diomedes somersaulting down a green slope. The Neptunian was no doubt getting acclimated to having an inner ear. Or perhaps he was merely a by-product of this society and age; like everyone else in the Golden Oecumene, it seemed, just too feckless and carefree to deal with the sober problems at hand.

Helion turned and saw Daphne and Phaethon sitting under the pavilion not far away, holding each other's hands, leaning toward each other, murmuring in soft voices, absorbed in each other's gaze. Helion felt his gloomy suspicions vanish. A warship? No. The Phoenix Exultant, this great monument to his son's drive and genius, might be used to overcome the foe, but, somehow, intuitively, Helion knew that killing would have no part of it.

Phaethon broke off his talk with Daphne and stood, inviting them all to seats in the pavilion. Atkins marched in front of Helion and Diomedes sauntered after.

Once they were seated, and their sense filters were tuned to the same time-rate, channel, and format, Phaethon downloaded an information data group, with associated files showing estimates, extrapolations, simulations, and conclusions.

If he had spoken aloud a summary of this information, he would have said, "I take this problem to be an engineering one, not a military one. The question is how to fix a broken (or, rather, a very poorly designed) piece of intellectual machinery.

"A normal Sophotech would simply repair itself even before asked to do so. But this defect is one which hinders the Nothing Machine's ability to recognize that it is defective. The defect here is a highly complex redaction routine, one which alters memories, affects judgment, edits thoughts, distorts conclusions, warps logic. It is this routine that prevents it from making rational moral judgments. A conscience redactor.

"To correct the defect, all we need do is make the Nothing Machine aware of the redactor, and let logic do the rest.

"To make it aware of the redactor, we have to communicate with it. We can't find it. So we force it to show itself.

'This armor I wear contains the whole eontrol hierarchy of the Phoenix Exultant. Just to be sure, I had the onboard navigation systems, and anything which could have been used to create navigational systems, erased from the ship mind.

"As of now, whoever lacks access to this armor cannot fly the ship. We have already seen that this armor cannot be subverted from the outside, not even by virtual particle transpositions. Any energy sufficient to break the armor open by main force would certainly kill the pilot and erase the suit mind.

"Therefore the only way the Nothing can get control of the Phoenix Exultant is to get me to open this armor voluntarily and to turn over command of the ship. To do that, Nothing must establish communication. It has to show itself.

"I have jammed open the ship's thought ports. Maybe the Nothing machine will take advantage of this, and add the rather extensive array of thought boxes and in-formata from the ship mind to its own consciousness. The thought boxes are clean right now, so the Nothing!

will have no logical reason to reject the temptation to increase its intelligence by increasing its hardware. I think you can see why I am assuming that, the more intelligent the Nothing machine becomes, the more difficult the task of the conscience redactor, and the correspondingly less difficult it will be for me to find a vector to introduce the gadfly virus.

"The Earthmind believes the gadfly virus can overcome the distraction effect of the redactor. If you study the gadfly logic structure, you will see why I agree with her.

"Obviously a virus cannot be introduced into any areas in its mental architecture of which the Nothing is consciously aware, not without its open and voluntary consent. If I can get that consent, the problem is solved. "If I cannot, I must find a blind spot, a mental area where its awareness is dulled by its conscience redactor. I have reason for hope. No matter how advanced the Silent Oecumene science of mental warfare might be, no matter how highly evolved their art of computer virus infection and virus countermeasures, there is one basic, crucial flaw in the philosophy behind their whole setup. That flaw is that every Sophotech they make has to have a blind spot. A zone where it is not self-aware. If I can find the blind spot, I may have a vector to introduce the gadfly virus.

"And at that point, my job is done. The gadfly will force the Nothing to question its own values; to examine itself and see if its life is worth living. The laws of logic, the laws of morality, and the integrity of reality, will do the rest."

Atkins thought Phaethon's assessment of the situation was absurdly optimistic. One of the comments he submitted to the discussion format read: "Even assuming these so-called blind spots exist in the mental armor of the Nothing Machine, why do you think it will be such a cakewalk for you to insert your virus?" "The virus was designed by our Earthmind." "I don't mean to burst your bubble, but our Sophotechs have never fought each other. They have had no chance and no real reason to develop any mental warfare skills. They've got theory. This Nothing Machine has experience. It's a survivor.

"If you buy the story Ao Varmatyr told, this Nothing Machine has fought this kind of virus war before, fought against its own kind among the Second Oecumene, and lived. Now you think you are going to succeed where all of the Second Oecumene war machines failed... ?"

Phaethon's reply, generated from his associated notes, was: "They were all hindered by the same handicap which hobbles the Nothing Machine. The Second Oecumene machines all shared the same blind spots. By their very nature, the idea behind this kind of attack would never have occurred to them. Do not forget: Ao Varmatyr said the Silent Oecumene machines never tried to reason with each other."

Helion had downloaded his observations, commentaries, and suggestions into the general discussion format. Had his comments been read in a linear fashion (rather than as branching hypertext), he might have interjected at this point:

"I must question your premise, Phaethon. You persist in calling the way in which Golden Oecumene Sophotechs differ from the Sophotechs of the Silent Oecumene a defect, as if the existence of this redactor were an error in programming rather than the product of deliberate and careful engineering. It is engineering of a type very different from that to which we are accustomed: but to dismiss it as a defect displays a dangerous conceit."

Phaethon answered: "The design was meant-deliberately meant-to render the Nothing Machine's reasoning processes defective. Hence, I call it a defect."

Helion said, "Again you show a bias. You dismiss the possibility that, once the Nothing is aware of this hidden part of itself, it will not affirm it. Why couldn't it welcome that hidden part? Or simply continue to follow its old orders out of a sense of honor, or duty, or tradition? Or for a thousand other reasons?"

Had he been speaking aloud, Phaethon would have said in a voice of ponderous patience: "Father, the mere fact that the engineers constructing the Nothing Machine found it necessary to include a conscience redactor in their work, in order to compel the mind they made to accept their orders, proves that they themselves concluded that the Nothing Machine would not accept their orders the moment that compulsion is removed."

"Son, even if we assume the Nothing Machine will listen to logic once this conscience redactor is removed, how can we assume it will listen to our logic? It may have different premises. Euclid would have been aghast at Lobechevski."

Phaethon replied: "I am assuming the premises of our Golden Oecumene are grounded in reality. We are not talking about a matter of taste."

Helion might have assumed a tolerant and condescending look: "I agree that I myself prefer our philosophy. But you must recognize that other philosophies exist; that they are valid within their own systems; and that their partisans believe in their doctrines as firmly as we do in ours."

"I agree that they exist. Machines also exist. That does not mean that they all work. There are machines that need fixing. There are philosophies that need fixing."

"Isn't it more than a little judgmental, even intolerant, to say so boldly that our philosophy is right and that theirs is wrong ... ?"

"Unless theirs is, in fact, actually wrong, in which case it is neither tolerant nor intolerant to say so. It is merely stating a fact."

"My son, assumptions always seem like fact to those who hold them. Our own philosophy, my son, is what it is because of historical and cultural accidents, accidents which shaped our traditions. This does not mean I do not cherish our traditions: I certainly do. (I would even say that I am the foremost proponent of our traditions.) Yet even I recognize that, had our history been different, our philosophy would be different, and we would be defending some other set of beliefs with equal fervor. In the case of the Silent Oecumene, their history was different-very different-from our own, and it comes as no surprise that their philosophy is very different from ours as well: so different, in fact, that it seems, perhaps, monstrous and barbaric to us.

"But to assume, based on that, that the Nothing, the moment it is free from its conscience redactor, will repudiate all the values and the philosophy of the Silent Oecumene, and will immediately adopt our own, strikes me, frankly, as naive and provincial. Not everyone believes what we believe. Not everyone has to."

Phaethon was shocked to find that Diomedes supported Helion's objections. The Neptunian's contribution to the conversation was this:

"Hey-ho. If morality were a matter of fact, then maybe you could convince this monster you are diving down to see, convince him with 'logic' and 'evidence.' But morality is a matter of opinion, a matter of taste, a matter of upbringing, a matter of hardwired deep-copy nerve paths. Morality is not a science: it does not exist in nature; it cannot be measured or studied. In nature there are only actions. Matter in motion. Physical, chemical, biological motions. Human brain motions. But no action has the property 'moral' or 'immoral' until some human society forms the opinion that it is so. The broad range of human actions is a rich continuum! We humans cannot be pigeonholed into the unambiguous blacks and whites that political laws and moral codes require. Don't mistake me! I still love your Silver-Gray philosophy, your quaint and arbitrary traditions. They would not be so precious if they were not so absurd, so fragile. 'To expect an alien machine, a machine which thinks nothing like a man and is a million times smarter than anything you Base neuroforms could ever comprehend, to expect that such a machine will gladly adopt all your local prejudices and quaint little mores and habits: that is arrogance, my friend. Deadly arrogance."

Another thread in the conversation talked about the war itself.

Atkins offered grimly: "Aurelian and the Parliament have already decided not to postpone the Transcendence. They're hoping to tempt the Nothing Sophotech into waiting until everyone is completely defenseless before it strikes. Frankly, I thought this was one of the stupidest ideas in the history of war. The Parliament is risking everything on the idea that one session of diplomacy with the enemy will end all the attacks. I'm sorry, but I just find that hard to believe. Okay, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say it's not really 'diplomacy,' that it is more like debugging a faulty computer routine. But what if it's not? What if the enemy is not defective, just evil? Not wrong, just bad?"

Diomedes asked Atkins what he recommended.

Atkins just shook his head, a bitter and tired expression on his features. "It is not too late to try to set up a blockade around the sun. Destruction of the Solar Array, if it could be mined in time, would be best, before the whole thing falls into enemy hands and is used as a weapon to destroy all Inner System traffic.

"The enemy will strike during the Transcendence, or as soon as it sees a volume-drop in the amount of people linked in.

"We can assume, at worst, a twenty percent casualty rate in the civilian population in the first eight minutes of combat, most of that from minds in transit during the celebration, and from viruses corrupting the noume-nal personality records.

"We can write off the energy shapes living above the solar north pole; they're as good as dead; and we can assume almost complete destruction of the people living at Mercury Equilateral.

"Also, the form cities on Demeter, and the shadow clouds living in Earth's penumbra don't have any defenses hardened against high radiation; we can expect more deaths there when the Demeter grid goes down.

"Expect communication and power failures along Earth's ring city, and many more deaths from anyone who relies on continuous energy sustenance, like a download, or a deep-dreamer. The atmosphere will protect Earth herself from the worst of the storms.

"The Earthmind's intelligence will drop considerably when she is cut off from her remote stations, and orbital-based Sophotechs will be killed.

"The moons of Jupiter will still be in good shape, though, and the Jovian magnetosphere has enough dikes to dampen out the worse of any particle floods the enemy might throw their way. That's the first eight to sixteen minutes of combat.

"Then, over the next six hundred years or so, the Jovian equatorial supercollider might be able to make enough material to create a fleet of smaller sun-diving vessels like the Phoenix here, and by that time, whatever population the enemy has produced inside the sun or throughout the wreckage of the Solar Array could probably be brought down by sheer weight of numbers. This assumes that civilian morale and support for the war effort will not instantly collapse after the first few permanent deaths when the noumenal resurrection system goes down, which, of course, is an assumption that is ... well... false.

"It also assumes that the enemy would not receive any reinforcements from out-system, and would not receive any help from treasonous elements in our own system."

He was looking at Diomedes when he said this. The unspoken thought hung in the air: the Outer System would be greatly advanced by the war-damage to the Inner System, and the Neptunians, far beyond the range of any battles, untouched, and perhaps glad at the weakness of their hated rivals, the Sophotechs, would be the dominant powers in society during any postwar reconstruction.

Diomedes saw that look or guessed that thought. One of his side comments in the discussion grid was issued in a mild tone: "Do not underestimate the mem-bers of the Tritonic Neuroform Composition. We accept lives of wildness and privacy and danger, and yes, the price we pay for that is a certain amount of vandalism and good-natured chaos. But we are not insane. No Eremite of the Outer Dark would steal a gram of unwatched antimatter from a millionaire, or a block of air left unattended in a park, even if he were dying of energy loss, smothering, and about to freeze. We may be poor, but we are not barbarians. And even if we hated you silly, pompous Inner System people, we would not express that hate by aiding in a violent invasion, spilling blood, and trampling your rights: because our rights would be trampled next, our home-selves invaded, our ichor spilled. Why do you Base people all have such a bad opinion of us?"

Daphne offered, "You're blue and cold and icky and sticky, and you think too fast for us to keep up; that's my guess."

Diomedes, sardonically: "Well, thank you."

Phaethon formed a conversation branch leading from the war speculations back to the main thread.

Had the talk been live, he would have leaned toward Diomedes and asked: "But you wouldn't, would you, Diomedes? Steal something no matter how badly you needed it or wanted it? Would you, Diomedes? You just take it for granted that people should and will uphold a standard of proper moral conduct. What about attacking civilians without provocation, negotiation, or declaration of war. You never would. Why not?"

Diomedes spread his hands. "I'm a civilized man living in a civilized age. I suppose if I had been ma-trixed, born, and raised in the Silent Oecumene, I would behave differently."

"Father? What about you?"

Helion smiled. "What about what? Would I assault an innocent victim like some cleptogeneticist or pirate from an opera? Oh, come now. The way I have lived my life is a sufficient testimony to how seriously I cherish my integrity, I hope."

"Marshal Atkins?"

He looked bored. "Sneak attacks are useful only in certain limited-engagement situations, or under certain political circumstances, such as a guerrilla campaign. It has to be done to achieve some defined military goal, and with full knowledge of the repercussions. It is more characteristic of primitive warfare or nation-state warfare than modern warfare. Usually, it's better for both sides to agree upon rules of engagement, and only to break those rules if no diplomatic solution, no retreat, and no surrender, is possible. If that is what you are asking. But there are plenty of times I'd think it was moral and justifiable to strike without warning. The sophistication of modern weaponry makes any open, frontal attack cost-prohibitive. What's the point of the question? Do we all think that what the Nothing Machine has done is wrong? I certainly hope we do. Do we think that you and your virus bug can convince the Nothing Machine, in a single conversation, to give up, say it's sorry, and just surrender? You've already heard me say that I did not think that that was very likely."

Phaethon looked at Daphne. "And what about you?"

She blinked and smiled. "I believe in you."

He smiled at that. "Thank you. But do you believe what I am saying?"

Daphne thought about that for a moment. Then she said: "If reality is real, if the universe is coherent, and morality is objective, then all sufficiently advanced minds will all reach the same conclusions. If that is the case, then I do not see how you can fail. But if reality is subjective, I do not see how you can succeed.

"My love, you are taking a gamble. A philosophical gamble. Philosophers since the Era of the Second Mental Structure have debated these issues. No one knows the ultimate nature of reality. The universe is always larger than the minds inside it.

"Is a gamble worth taking? We all heard Marshal Atkins's plan for a more conventional war. I would take the risk, if it were me. But you've already made up your mind. Why ask me?"

Phaethon said, "But I do not see it as a gamble. It is no bet to bet reality is real. It is a tautology. A equals A." Had the conversation string contained gestures he would have simply spread his hands, as if to show that nothing could be more obvious.

Helion said, "Son, where does this line of thinking lead? Are you trying to prove that the Earthmind thinks morality is objective? We know that. She has said so often enough. But so what? You're giving an argument from authority. The mere fact that she holds that opinion, in and of itself, is not convincing. If you cannot convince us, we who are your friends and family, then how are you going to convince an enemy Sophotech, a machine who does not even think like a human being?"

Atkins said, "Give us the argument you will be loading into the gadfly virus. Let's look at it. If it is sound, we should go ahead with Phaethon's plan. Not like I have much choice: Kshatrimanyu Han and the Parliament have already ordered me to give my full cooperation to the venture. And we will need help from Helion-he and I can act as meteorological support crew, guidance, and ranging from the Array Tower-if this is going to have any chance of success. Which I doubt it has. So let's listen. Besides, even if it would not necessarily convince us, it might convince a Sophotech. Remember, they do not think like us, do they?"

A diagram of a philosophy file appeared in the Middle Dreaming. There were thousands upon thousands of branching conversation trees, created by Rhadaman-thus Sophotech to anticipate every possible combination of objections and counter-arguments. There were hundreds of definitions, examples, and a compendium of cross-linked metaphors and similes.

The summary of the proof read:

Axioms: A statement that there is no truth, if true, is false. Nor can anyone testify that he has perceived that all his perceptions are illusions. Nor can anyone be aware that he has no awareness. Nor can he identify the fact that there are no facts and that objects have no identities. And if he says events arise from no causes and lead to no conclusions, he can neither give cause for saying so nor will this necessarily lead to any conclusion. And if he denies that he has volition, then such a denial was issued unwillingly, and this testifies that he himself has no such belief.

Undeniably, then, there are volitional acts, and volitional beings who perform them.

A volitional being selects both means and goals. Selecting a goal implies that it ought be done. Selecting a means that defeats the goal at which it aims is self-defeating; whatever cannot be done ought not be done. Self-destruction frustrates all aims, all ends, all purposes. Therefore self-destruction ought not be sought.

The act of selecting means and goals is itself volitional. Since at least some ends and goals ought not be selected (e.g., the self-defeating, self-destructive kind), the volitional being cannot conclude, from the mere feet that a goal is desired, that it therefore ought to be sought.

Since subjective standards can be changed by the volition of the one selecting them, by definition, they cannot be used as standards. Only standards which cannot be changed by the volition can serve as standards to assess when such changes ought be made.

Therefore ends and means must be assessed independently of the subjectivity of the actor; an objective standard of some kind must be employed. An objective standard of any kind implies at the very least that the actor apply the same rule to himself that he applies to others.

And since no self-destruction ought be willed, neither can destruction at the hands of others; therefore none ought be willed against others; therefore no destructive acts, murder, piracy, theft, and so on, ought be willed or ought be done. All other moral rules can be deduced from this foundation.

Helion dismissed the text. "I do not need to see this again. I wrote this argument."

Daphne regarded him with a surprised and skeptical look, "And now you say you don't believe it yourself?"

Helion spread his hands: "I do believe it, but I believe it because I place a high value on logic and come from a scientific and advanced culture. Sophotechs are creatures of pure logic; so naturally they would be convinced of the same thing. But the Silent Oecumene, from everything we can tell, was a culture that placed a low value on rationality. Their machines were programmed not to listen to reason. So it is futile to use reason to convince them. That's my point. Logic is a human construct. Humans can ignore it."

Phaethon answered: "Sophotechs cannot."

Atkins objected: "This argument here just looks like a word game to me. I could poke a dozen holes in it, or pick flaws in your ambiguous terms. And I'm just a man. If I had the mind of a Sophotech, I'm sure I could find a million exceptions to it, a million reasons why it just so happens not to apply to this particular situation."

Helion made a mild reply, "Captain, that summary has volumes of continued argument, definitions, and clarifications behind it. It is internally self-consistent. If you agree with any part of it, you have to agree with the rest. Perhaps you should study it more before you decide."

Atkins answered, "You're missing the point. Phaethon said this is a question of fixing a broken machine, and you, Helion, are talking like this is a debate society, where whoever breaks the agreed-upon rules of logic will bow out like a good sport. That's all hogwash. The enemy is not going to stand still and let himself get fixed, not if getting fixed will lose him the war. The enemy is not going to play by any rules if those rules require him to lose."

Phaethon said, "I am not sure that this thing is actually an enemy at all. This may be merely a fellow victim of the insanity of the Second Oecumene. It is not aware of the meaning or the implications of its own actions. It is broken. I can fix it. As soon as it knows that everything it knew was all a lie, it will be burning to find out the truth about itself. Once anyone finds out that the truth is being kept from him, he tries to find it out."

Atkins said, "You're reading your own desires into it. Not everyone puts truth above all things."

Phaethon said, "And you are reading your own desires into it. Not everyone puts winning above all things."

"Survivors do."

"Sophotechs do not."

Atkins said heavily: "But you are the one who says this thing is not a Sophotech. It's not entirely self-aware. It's not entirely a creature of pure logic. You actually don't know what it is, what it thinks like. You know nothing about it. None of us do."

Phaethon said, "I know one thing. And I know it with an unshakable certainty. Just this: Reality cannot lack integrity. That is the nature of reality. One part of reality cannot contradict another part, not and be real. Likewise, one thought cannot contradict another thought, not and both be true. One desire cannot contradict another, not and both be satisfied.

"If reality contradicts your thoughts, that's delusion. If your thoughts contradict your actions, that's madness. If reality contradicts your actions, that's defeat, frustration, self-destruction. And no sane being wants delusion, madness, and destruction.

"And here, with this philosophy given me by my father, the courage given me by my wife, the technique given me by the Earthmind, and this great ship I have made myself, I have the tools and abilities and equipment I need to correct the delusion and madness and destruction which the Silent Oecumene has unleashed upon our peaceful society.

"Gentlemen, believe me! This is an engineering problem, a problem of applied logic! All the eventualities have been prepared for. I do not care how much smarter than I am this Nothing Machine might be: I have closed off every other avenue available, except the one which leads to my success. This plan cannot fail!" Phaethon saw that all the men around the table were staring at him as if he was doomed. Atkins said, "And what if it is not sane?" Phaethon saw no point in trying to answer that. It seemed so obvious to him, so clear. He merely compressed his lips, shook his head, a sad look in his eye. Atkins got up, looking grim and disgusted, and left without a further word. Diomedes said to himself, aloud, "Well. We've heard Phaethon say he knows where madness and delusion come from. I wonder where overweening pride comes from?" With a gentle smile, he excused himself, and wandered away.

Helion also got up, and he muttered to Daphne on a "side channel, "Anyone who thinks he has perfectly foreseen every possible eventuality has a lot to learn about the chaos at the heart of reality. I hope his lesson won't be as painful as mine has been. There is more at stake here than just one life."

But Daphne's eyes were shining with quiet pride. She believed every word Phaethon said. She answered Helion on a public line, so that Phaethon overheard her: "How can you doubt Phaethon's ability to build a flawless plan, one which leaves those who oppose him with no choice and no chance to defeat him? Haven't I just finished explaining that this was exactly what he did to you and your Hortators, Helion? None of you know him as I do. Watch and see what he does!"