Complete Atopia Chronicles

“None of this makes any sense,” I complained, still pacing and taking a sip from my scotch.

My understanding of warfare was academic. Open warfare was, in essence, an information-gathering exercise. From a game theory point of view, attack and defense were designed to resolve the capabilities of opponents until both sides converged on the same accurate assessments.

I’d openly shared almost all information regarding Atopia with the world to avert such a conflict—‘almost’ being the operative word. Perhaps by sharing what I’d been hiding, I could negotiate a peace with Terra Nova, but it was hard to shake the feeling of being a traitor to my own cause.

Even then, it was hard to imagine Terra Nova being so desperate to slow us down as to purposely direct Category 5 hurricanes into the densely populated West Coast. Even a weakened America would be sure to retaliate, with great prejudice, after the damage these storms would cause. Terra Nova would be ensuring its own downfall.

Once upon a time, before Kesselring had approached me for the Atopia project, I had helped build the foundations for Terra Nova as well, and I now remained perhaps the last person on earth who could fix whatever was going on.

“Are you ready?” asked Marie. “This may be our only chance.”

“You’re right,” I replied. With all the attention focused on the emergency at hand, a window of opportunity had opened up for us to talk with the Terra Novans directly and in secret; a chance to perhaps strike a grand bargain. “So everything is set up?”

“They’re waiting,” Marie replied, and then waited, looking at me. Seconds ticked by.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

We exploded upwards out of my office, squeezing through a tight communication channel in the perimeter, and then dispersed, clipping and mixing our sensory packets around the globe to re–materialize in a large, warmly lit room with wooden walls that arched gracefully in vertical panels that intertwined and spiraled together to form the ceiling.

On closer inspection, the walls weren’t paneled, but were actually living tree trunks that grew perfectly and tightly together. The place glowed with a light that seemed to emanate from nowhere, and I was seated beside Marie at a large stone table.

Across from us sat the Elders of Terra Nova. In the middle of them sat my old student, Mohesha. She nodded at me, smiling, and I smiled back. I felt some of my distrust begin to melt away.

The senior Terra Novan Elder, Tyrel, began to speak.

“Patricia, it is with great respect and gratitude that we accept you here in our lodge today,” said Tyrel. “We know you are here at great personal risk.”

It hardly mattered anymore, my days were numbered, was what I wanted to say. At this point I just wanted things to be right, to do the right thing.

“I am also honored,” I replied, nodding deeply. “I come here today to negotiate a peace.”

Tyrel watched me without emotion.

“We have great respect for you, Patricia, you are the mother of all of this,” he said, sweeping his hand around the table, “of all Terra Nova, and more, of all synthetic intelligences and worlds.”

“Thank you, but I’m not here to collect praise.”

“You have been used, deceived, and you have even deceived yourself!” cut in my old student Mohesha. Her dark, African features glowed in the soft lighting.

“I’m not here out of desperation,” I explained. “We are beating this trap you have set for us. I am here simply because I want the same things as you.”

Silence.

“Even if we wanted to, and we do, we could not help you,” replied Tyrel.

“But you must see the same things I do,” I continued. “You must see the destruction coming. I know we’ve been hiding some of the details. But the pssi program is the only solution.”

Tyrel and the rest of the Elders watched me sadly.

“Chasing happiness by giving people anything they want has never been the path to fulfillment,” said one of the other Elders after a pause. “Satisfying every material and sensual pleasure will not lead to peace.”

“But surely you have seen what I have seen!” I shouted, slapping the table. “You have to stop what you are doing. It will only lead to your own destruction!”

Dead silence. Absolutely no reaction.

“I am going to expose what we’ve been hiding, after we escape this trap of yours, I will go to the media,” I explained. “I’ve been planning it through Sintil8. It will slow the release and we can collaborate.”

“We know about Sintil8,” replied Tyrel sadly, “we know what you’ve been planning with him.”

“Well what do you want then? Is it money you want?” I demanded. “A share of the profits?”

“How far you have fallen,” said Tyrel sadly after a moment, shaking his head. Tears came to his eyes. “You cannot stop anymore what you have created.”

“Is all this just about stopping the pssi program so you can position yourselves better?” I asked incredulously.