Total Recall

CHAPTER 21 Revelation

Quaid saw the Pyramid Mountain rising like the Matterhorn from one side of a canyon. He floated, seeming disembodied, contemplating it.

“Go inside,” Kuato said, from somewhere in another reality.

Quaid discovered that he could move simply by willing it. He jumped to the side of the mountain, then traveled into the tunnel in its side, as in his dream. The tunnel went deep inside, then dead-ended at a hole in a stone wall. He glided through that hole and into an abyss.

A gigantic metal structure seemed to fill the central core of a dark pit. His dream-pit—but somehow different. The structure—it was in its fashion alive, not dead, and dynamic rather than passive. He had seen it before and thought it defunct; now he knew it was not.

He floated to it. There were huge metal trusses, like the arched understructure of a bridge.

He moved on toward the center of the structure and saw a forest of gigantic corroded metal columns.

Kuato’s voice came again. “What is it?”

Quaid didn’t answer. He didn’t need to; Kuato was reading his mind. The questions were merely to focus his attention.

He dropped down, down, down, as if on a tether, as he had in the dream. But as he passed the point where the dream had ended—

His hands, of their own accord, found the line at his waist and closed about it. They clamped automatically, and suddenly were jerked up as they tried to break his fall. His arms were wrenched almost out of their sockets as they took the full falling weight of his body. Even in the lesser gravity of Mars, it was a shock. He swung, hurting—and smashed into the wall of the pit. The shock was transmitted through his suit, stunning him. His gloves slipped on the line, starting him down again. He knew he couldn’t afford that; he was still a long way from the bottom.

He willed his hands to hang on, whatever the cost. But the cost was his consciousness. He felt himself swinging again, into…

The galaxy was crisscrossed by lines of communication and trade. Lightspeed limited both, on the interstellar level, but species that took the long view prospered. They sent out missionary ships, knowing that they would not see any results in the lifetimes of those aboard, or in the lifetimes of any of the creatures extant. But they continued, for that was the nature of the long view.

The galaxy was actually the debris being drawn into the monstrous black hole that was its center. It had started as a cloud, formed into a quasar, and swept the gas and dust of its vicinity into itself, its appetite insatiable. In the course of billions of years it had dimmed somewhat, for the substance around it was thinning, but it remained a well-organized system.

Hauser recovered consciousness. He was at the bottom of the pit. He had suffered a brief vision of a black hole, but while his mind was out, his hands had evidently eased him on down safely.

He detached himself from the cord. He needed freedom to explore. Then he would climb back up and—

And what? Melina had heard him fall. She would know that something had gone wrong, and would head back for help. He should have told her he was all right, only he had gotten knocked partway senseless. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out. So his mission—

What was his mission? He couldn’t quite remember. That disorientation—

But it was coming back. He was trying to find out about this alien artifact. What it was, what it did, who had left it, anything. So that Melina—

Whatever thought had started was preempted by another. He loved Melina. He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead. How could he have allowed this to happen? He was an experienced professional, not some lovesick trainee. His love for her had been a pose, a means to an end, the oldest trick in the book. He had used her to infiltrate Kuato’s rebel forces and he had succeeded in that, though he had not succeeded in locating Kuato himself. Now it was time for the rest of the plan to go into action. It was time for him to return to Cohaagen, to the world of intrigue and double-cross and cold calculation.

But it looked as though he had been double-crossed, by his heart. He had sensed the loss of control, of detachment, a while ago, but he had ignored it, suppressed it, tried to forget it. He could do so no longer. Melina’s courage and determination had pierced his amoral armor—and awakened feelings in him that he had never experienced before.

He loved Melina. He could deny it no longer. And if betraying the rebels meant losing her, then he could not betray them. He didn’t care what Cohaagen thought his mission was. He was doing this for her.

He set out to explore the alien device whose struts towered above him in the near-darkness. He had for a moment seemed to understand the aliens, their missionary ships, their long view—or was that something he was about to learn? His memories were jumbled, with chronology seeming to be something other than a straight line. The memory implants, laid over each other, one, two, three of them, synaptic turbulence where they interfered with each other at the fringes—how could he be sure what was real? Focus on the lowest level, exclude what hadn’t yet happened…

He found what might be a footpath, but for other feet than human. The surface was rough, almost like sandpaper, with crisscrossing corrugations. It was like a tape, curving around on the contour, without guardrails, and he had to duck to pass under other tapes that crossed above it. It dead-ended in a drop-off into a hole, and picked up again a few feet below. It was as if the tape had been folded at right angles, then straightened out again at the lower level. Whoever had walked this hadn’t been much concerned about continuity.

He jumped down and resumed his walk, determined to find out where this path went. It stood to reason that it went somewhere, and that it might offer some hint about the alien structure. He had no better notion how to proceed than this.

The path seemed determined to thwart him. It made a right-angle turn up, proceeded along a low ceiling, then turned the corner to the top of a substructure within the giant complex. If this really was a path, the creatures who used it must have feet like those of flies, so that they could walk up walls or upside down on ceilings. Did that make sense?

He persevered, managing to climb back to the level surface so that he could walk normally again. There was always a clear way forward; sometimes he had to proceed on hands and feet, but it never blocked up completely. From this he judged that the aliens had been about half the height of a man. They were also unafraid of heights, for some paths he passed extended straight up the sides of towering columns. The image of a fly was growing stronger, distressing as he found it. Could flies be builders? What would they build for? Some titanic framework for the airing of carrion?

At last he came to a kind of central plaza where a number of paths converged. There was a squat column in the center, covered with what looked like carvings in relief. They were of all types, from straight geometrical designs to weird blobs.

He walked around it, looking at the figures. Many of them were reminiscent of ants.

Ants! Ants could walk on walls and ceilings, and were longer than they were tall. They built mounds, and tunneled through wood. They had quite an organized society, and even made war, in the fashion of man. Could the aliens be ants?

Then he spied a picture of a man. Immediately he concentrated on it, suspecting he had misinterpreted it, too eager to spy something familiar. But it was definitely a man—and beside it, definitely a woman.

The figure was naked, and the female reminded him of Melina in her perfection of form.

Melina…

There was no doubt now: he was getting warm! He knew these figures had not been carved by men; they were part of the alien structure. The aliens had put them there. Why?

Could this be a message intended for men?

He studied it. Both the man and the woman were looking out from the column, interest in their faces. Hauser looked in the direction they were looking. There, at the edge of the circular platform, was a chamber. It was about the size and shape of a man.

It seemed an obvious enough invitation. He could step into that chamber—and what? Be pickled for future reference, a specimen of Homo sapiens? The term meant “rational man,” but he wasn’t sure it would be rational to take the suggested action!

Yet if the aliens had known of man, they must also have known how to capture a specimen if they wanted it. They didn’t need to set a roach trap for the adventurous soul who found this hidden place.

He looked again at the figures on the column. Could these be examples of many creatures the aliens had known, the males and females of the systems of the galaxy? One set of each, like in Noah’s ark? So was this some kind of memorial, and any creature who visited it would find himself represented?

But why?

He looked more closely at some of the other figures. Many were indecipherable, but others were vaguely recognizable. For example, there was a perfectly good set of BEMs—Bug Eyed Monsters—of the type usually drafted for Evil Menace duty in comic videos. Their bugging eyes were gazing out at a chamber evidently designed to contain a BEM.

One figure looked like a cross between a giant spider and a small snake. Sure enough, there was a chamber made for it too.

Since there were no such creatures on Earth, and never had been, as far as he knew, any such beings who appeared here had to be galactic travelers. They would not fall for any roach trap!

Then it came to him: communication! These must be communications chambers, each for its own species. A central phone system, maybe, so that travelers could call home, or at least find out where the local facilities were.

Did he trust the ancient aliens?

What did he have to lose?

Hauser went to the man-chamber and stepped inside.

There was a faint flash of green light, and a measured clicking, as of something starting up. Then—

The galaxy was crisscrossed by lines of communication and trade…

So this was where he had remembered this from! The alien indoctrination tape. Now he had it in its proper order. He listened and looked, not with his senses but with his mind.

At the edge of the galaxy, still far from the maw of its central black hole, dust was spiraling in, and new stars were forming. Some of them acquired planetary systems, some of which were suitable for the development of life. Some of these “living ” planets were prospects for new trade, to replace those being lost at the interior as their systems entered the event horizon and were lost. Experience had shown that the process could be facilitated by seeding: by presenting advanced technology to nascent traders, and facilitating their development to full trader status. Thus the network of the galaxy was maintained at a constant level despite the continuing loss of advanced planets. The appearance and chemistry of the new species did not matter; the only requirements were that they be capable of mastering advanced technology and using it in a positive way.

The normal course was for a trading species to develop after several billion years of life on a planet, if some natural cataclysm didn’t wipe it out. Such a species could proceed from the first realization of mind as a commercial force to interstellar travel in just a few million years. It could then achieve galactic contact and trade in a few hundred years—if appropriately seeded. The chance of an unseeded species reaching full trading status was only one in ten; about half destroyed their planets and therefore themselves in the course of making the breakout to space. Many of the rest lost interest and turned away from space, preferring the security of isolation. But seeded species had a 50 percent chance because they were caught at the first surge of their ambition and were able to follow through before destroying their habitat by war, depletion of resources, or accident.

But there was risk in seeding. Sometimes a species that would have been eliminated by natural selection (destroying itself) was enabled to survive. Such a rogue species could then embark on the destruction of legitimate species, using the technology in a negative instead of positive manner. The rogue species tended to like conquest for its own sake, failing to appreciate the advantage of normal trade. If allowed to continue, such a species would wreak the same havoc on the galaxy as it did on its home planet, culminating in destruction on a far broader scale.

Yes, Hauser thought, and the presentation paused the moment his private thought took over, allowing him time to assimilate the material in his own way. Give a child a gun, and he may start shooting other children. That wasn’t smart.

So precautions were taken, and these were effective. One such precaution was in requiring the prospect species to achieve limited space travel on its own, before being seeded; that ensured that only a species cable of a sustained and well-executed effort of the proper nature would profit by it. Another was in concealing the full nature of the seeding so that an incurious species might not take advantage of it. The third precaution was unspecified.

However, the time between the establishment of the seeding and the implementation of it ranged from thousands to millions of years. It was possible that not only the individuals who did the seeding but their entire species would be defunct before the seeded species manifested as a trader. Once the seeding was done, it would not be reversed. There would be no second-guessing. That made the decision critical.

Hauser reacted again. Before a man gave a child a loaded gun, he should think very carefully about it! Especially if he knew that he would have no way to take it back. So he might set it on a high shelf so that the child wouldn’t be able to reach it until he grew up, and then he might conceal its nature so that the child who didn’t inspect it carefully might throw it away unused. But the child who grew up and had the wit to understand the gun might find it very useful in protecting his home from molestation.

It wasn’t a perfect analogy, but it would do. Mankind was in certain respects childish, and this was evidently a most sophisticated alien construction, on a grand scale. What was it for? It didn’t seem to be a spaceship, though he couldn’t rule that out.

Well, man had achieved limited space travel, so the first requirement had been met. If he could figure out what this thing was, and how to use it, that would be the second. That would leave only the third. Unspecified? What did that mean? That it varied with the species? Well, maybe he would find out, after he figured out the rest.

He relaxed and let the show continue. He was on his way to learning what he had come for, and it promised to be far more than he had imagined!

The normal course for a trading species was to rise within its planet, achieve travel between planets, receive the seeding, progress to galactic trading, seed new prospects, and retire as its stellar system was carried into the central maw of the galaxy. There were many variants of this process, and the duration of the trading species varied widely. Of course, a species could survive beyond the demise of its home system, by colonizing systems farther out, and many did. But generally the heart of a species died when its home system was lost, and the species preferred to expire with it, leaving the ongoing process of civilization to those who followed.

One such trader was the No’ui. The No’ui were specialists in seeding, and had done it for a wide variety of prospective species. They were good at large construction and especially strong on chemistry. None of their seedings had failed for inherent reasons; their analysis and technology were sound. Thus they were the ones to seed some of the more difficult prospects.

The present prospect was difficult. The initial survey showed a species of warm-bodied, four-limbed, nontelepathic, two-sexed creatures who were unusually aggressive. This local species (there was the slightest pause as the program allowed Hauser to fill in the blank with “the humans” because the No’ui name would have made no sense to him) was advancing rapidly across its native planet of “Earth” and was developing increasingly sophisticated tools. It was judged that this species of humans would achieve interplanetary travel within fifty thousand years. However, the prospect for them to become successful traders on the galactic scale was only one in three, even with seeding.

Hauser whistled in his helmet. One in three! That meant that the No’ui believed that mankind was twice as likely to fail as to succeed, by No’ui standards. Double or nothing!

But the human species had made it here, and now Hauser was finding out what the nature of this alien construction was. That was two steps out of three, as he understood it. So maybe the odds were evening, or even turning positive.

This is the No’ui, the presentation continued. A picture of a giant ant appeared, confirming Hauser’s guess. The No’ui were six-limbed, warm-bodied, semi-telepathic, two-sexed creatures, which made them virtual clones of the human species, by galactic standards. Anticipating a question here, the mental narrator paused to flash a picture of a more distant type of species.

It was like a fire-breathing jellyfish with lobster pincers. But it was its mental nature that really set it apart. It seemed to orient on Hauser—and his stomach roiled, his breathing became gasping, his heart skipped several beats and pondered before resuming something approaching a regular schedule, and his mind felt as if it were being stretched sideways and folded in on itself. He hastily agreed: the No’ui were near-clones!

Now the presentation oriented on the actual work being done on the monstrous structure. No’ui were walking on the walks, and sure enough, their feet clung firmly to the rough surfaces, so that they moved upright, vertically and upside down with similar facility. Actually, they needed only three or four limbs for walking; two or three were used for other purposes. Some guided floating objects to their assigned places, while others used complex tools to do indecipherable things. The place was like an anthill, unsurprisingly, with constant traffic along the paths, yet no collisions. Were they all one-way paths? No; when two individuals met, one would slide around and walk on the underside of the strip until the top was clear again. Because they were semi-telepathic, they were in constant communication with each other, and were never surprised by encounters.

The view closed on one particular No’ui. This was—a pause to apply a suitable designation from the mind of the recipient—Q’ad, a specialist in the demolition of temporary structures that were no longer required, so that their elements could be used in new structures. Q’ad used a device that powdered metal or stone, and the powder was then sucked up and stored. Q’ad was male, and strongly proportioned. He was expert at his specialty, though he had not had it long.

Hauser paused here to reflect. It was evident that this presentation was being heavily edited to relate to concepts he understood. The No’ui had studied the human species two million—no, it must have been more like fifty thousand years ago, because it was modern man, not an apelike man, who had spread across the globe and used increasingly sophisticated tools. It had been just a guess about the age of this complex; evidently no one had used any sophisticated dating methods, or announced the results if they had. At any rate, the No’ui had studied man, and known his nature, and set this up to relate to that. But much of the detail was sheer spot adaptation. For example, the name provided was Q’ad, not alien, so that he could relate comfortably to it; it was an alienized variant of his name. How could the ancient aliens have known that a man named Douglas Quaid Hauser would come to receive this presentation? The answer was that they couldn’t have known, but had left a telepathic (or semi-telepathic—he wasn’t clear on the difference, but after seeing the non-clone alien he didn’t care to explore that further) computer program to indoctrinate the subject in the most expedient manner. That spoke volumes for the sophistication of the No’ui!

And they were only the local seeders, in a galaxy full of traders! Just a typical species doing a minor job before moving on to the next system requiring seeding. How could the human species even compete? Yet the No’ui thought it could, if it managed to qualify. Were the No’ui still around? Quite possibly they were, elsewhere in the galaxy, for they took the long view.

Hauser felt excitement and awe. He wanted to meet the No’ui! He knew he never would, for they might be fifty thousand light-years away now. But this message was almost as good. He suppressed his thoughts and tuned in again.

Q’ad was not on duty as a duster at the moment. He was with M’la, his ad hoc mate, as they carried their egg to the hive nursery for hatching. They had seen in each other the possibility for superior breeding, so had done it. Now they were about to discover the proof of their effort.

The egg was about a quarter M’la’s mass; she had lost working time generating it, but this was acceptable. Good new workers were always needed. They took turns carrying it. If their hatchling passed muster, it would be a vindication for both.

The hive nursery was deep under the construction site, in the most projected region. It was a job carrying the heavy egg down the vertical path; their foot-grippers tried to pull loose, and they had to use all six limbs to hold on, gluing the egg to one of their backs. Finally they had to march in tandem, each supporting an end of the egg casing. Q’ad went first, carrying the front end glued to his hind section, while M’la followed, the rear of the casing glued to her head between her antennae.

By the time they reached the bottom, both were exhausted, but the egg was safe. It was now close to hatching; the movement affected it, and the increased atmospheric pressure of the depths.

They brought the egg to the queen of the nursery. She touched it with her antennae, and read the stirring mind within. It is time, she agreed. Because their kind was not fully telepathic, they were required to formulate specific thoughts for projection; fully telepathic species had complete understanding without having to do that.

We wish to witness, Q’ad thought.

She paused, about to lift the egg. You are aware that the chance of a hatchling in this region qualifying is only one in three?

Yes, they agreed together. The radiation here caused a severe incidence of uncontrolled mutation, and until they established an atmospheric shield they were confined to the depths, and even so their eggs were likely to be damaged. Q’ad had bred once before, with L’ri, and the egg had failed and been destroyed, its elements salvaged for food. But the auspices seemed better with M’la.

Hauser paused again, interrupting the presentation with his active thinking. L’ri? That hadn’t happened yet! Which meant that even this memory of the experience was being modified, to attune to those names and events that related best to his present awareness. For the original Hauser the name should have been different. The alien program remained in his mind, still operating in its special way. The memory implantation technique of the No’ui compared to the Rekall method as a three-dimensional hologram compared to a little flat TV screen. He was awed.

Then you may witness, the queen thought. But you will only receive; your sendings will be barred.

We understand. They went to a receiving booth. They knew why their sendings were barred; they might otherwise try to influence the responses of their hatchling.

They watched the wall of their booth, which reproduced the sight and thought of the hatching chamber. The egg was there, and already it was stirring, as the conducive thoughts of the chamber affected it. The egg rocked, then cracked, and finally opened, and the hatchling climbed out and dried in the bright ambience of reconstituted No’ui homestar light. That homestar was a hundred thousand light-years distant, and none of the staffers of this mission had even seen it, but it remained their home. When this seeding mission was done, perhaps in another hundred thousand years, their distant descendants would return. That was their dream!

The hatchling was male, and looked fit, and holographic scanning verified it: there were no physical mutations. Q’ad felt M’la’s relief; the first hurdle was over.

But now came the interrogation, and that was more critical. A trace physical defect might be tolerated, such as an extra set of limbs, but not a significant mental defect.

Hatchling: what is your nature? The queen’s thought came.

The hatchling had been experimentally walking around the chamber, coordinating his six legs. Immediately he answered, for the No’ui jvere made with genetic memory. I am a male No’ui.

What is your purpose?

To serve the will of my species.

What is planetary transformation?

The hatchling hesitated, and both Q’ad and M’la stiffened. Had the technical transfer taken?

It is the adaptation of a hostile planet to a compatible phase, the hatchling responded. Again Q’ad and M’la relaxed.

Given sufficient quantity of hydrazoic acid and water, how would you generate an atmosphere three-quarters nitrogen and one-quarter oxygen, approximately?

The hatchling paused again. This was not just technical information, it was an exercise in application. If the hatchling got this right, he would qualify mentally.

Question permitted?

Permitted.

Are there facilities for nuclear fusion?

He was getting it!

There are.

I would initiate a controlled fusion reaction for power, the hatchling thought carefully. I would use that power to separate the hydrazoic acid into it component elements of one part hydrogen and three parts nitrogen. I would also separate the water into its components of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen. This would yield three parts hydrogen, three parts nitrogen, and one part oxygen. I would then merge the hydrogen to helium by continued nuclear fusion, leaving the nitrogen and oxygen in the required ratio. I would store the surplus helium in compact state awaiting some future use.

Q’ad and M’la did a little dance of joy! He had gotten it! Of course it was a considerable oversimplification, but what could be expected of a hatchling with no experience of the universe? He would learn all that was required. Two parts of the test were done.

But the third was apt to be the killer. They tensed again.

Explicate this concept: (FIGURATIVE)

The hatchling paused, and again, Q’ad and M’la stiffened.

The hatchling’s antennae quivered. Then the little body relaxed. I am unable.

Why are you unable?

It is a concept alien to my nature.

Q’ad’s antennae met M’la’s antennae in an expression of rapture. Their hatchling had qualified!

They left the chamber. They would have no further contact with their hatchling, unless later he was assigned to the same project as one of them. Their part had been done: they had produced a true No’ui individual.

But the episode reminded Q’ad of the alien concept. What did it mean? He had struggled with this before, but it had always remained beyond his antennae. It seemed to suggest that something was not precisely as represented, yet indicated the essence. That was incomprehensible. A thing either was or was not; it could not be approximate in other than the purely physical sense, as in the case of an estimate instead of a direct count. Yet it appeared that the verbal language of the human species utilized this concept, and that humans understood it. They were of course primitive; perhaps they would eliminate such meaningless terms from their vocabulary as they matured. Still, it bothered him that a primitive species should be able to grasp a concept that no No’ui could.

Q’ad and M’la were now free to return to their assignments. But in time they would breed again, because their combination had proved to be successful. They had each justified their effort, by producing a viable hatchling in this hostile environment.

Q’ad found that he was now assigned to work on the surface. They were nearing the time of the test transformation and certain modifications had to be made in the landscape. M’la would be working with the genetically modified plants that would be able to root in the sands of this harsh planet. They both had to wear space suits, because until the project was completed there was insufficient atmosphere to sustain them. Actually, they would have to use suits once the atmosphere was established, because of course they could not breathe the alien mixture.

Then the presentation left Q’ad and M’la and zoomed above the planet, showing the time of its temporary transformation. An atmosphere was generated in the general manner described by the hatchling, oxygen-rich but suitable for human sustenance. Water flowed, and the special plants sprouted. The nuclear reactor had elements extending far across the planet, which were used to dissipate its enormous heat, at the same time bringing the temperature of the ground up to the level required by the plants, which was between the freezing and vaporizing points of the water that now collected in the declivities.

The test was a success; it was evident that the human species would be able to live on the surface of the planet if it activated the prepared mechanisms. The No’ui shut them down and restored the planet to its prior condition, except that the flow of water had changed some features in irrelevant ways. The plants were eliminated; their seeds were stored where they would be dispersed when the system was activated at a later date by the arriving human creatures. The activation itself would be simple; the complex was primed to come to life when a particular action was taken. That action was made clear to Hauser. He could readily do it.

But how did they know that the humans would be suitable traders? Hauser wondered. Suppose they abused the equipment?

In answer, he saw a representation of the planet Mars, with the Pyramid Mountain highlighted: the site of the nuclear reactor he had seen them building, and where he now (in memory) stood, receiving this presentation. There were three courses: it could be used as intended, and not only would it transform the planet so as to be livable by the human kind, it would yield its secrets of technology to human scientists, and enable them to catapult their species into galactic space, becoming full-fledged traders. Or it might be ignored, in which case the human species would make its own way as far as it was going to, perhaps achieving trader status in some later millennium. Or it might be abused, in which case it would be destroyed. A little nova symbol appeared, evidently indicating the destruction.

Now the program addressed him directly: Go tell your species, D’gls Q’ad H’sr. Make it understand that the choice is upon it. We No’ui put the matter on your appendages.

The presentation ended. Hauser found himself standing in the booth, and it was only a booth again. The alien presence was gone.

For some time he remained, awed. He knew that there were levels of this message that would take him hours, weeks, or years to understand completely. Right now, he knew what this complex was for, and how to activate it. That was enough.

He also knew that whatever loyalties he might have had in the past had been preempted by the No’ui. He was now their emissary.