THE TESTIMONY OF OWEN CARRICK

You really want it to be my turn now?  That’s funny because…

Because we’re all supposed to be honest, right?

You’re not just trying to kill time, Ailann, while you figure out a plan.  You’re deliberately saving, as Cillian said, your “ace.”  And, direct-minded problem solver that I am, I’ve got a pretty good idea what that ace is, right?  So if I were you, I’d have had Tommy talk.  Or Driscoll.  Someone who won’t give away the show.

Except maybe I’m missing the point.  Driscoll and Evan…they’re not as perceptive as Davy or Malachi, but not as obvious, either.  Being artists, they have to get their inspiration from somewhere, don’t they?  So maybe you’re hoping that one of them will pick up on something from I and I based on all this information Hurley has been gathering.

Or maybe Cuinn has a plan.

Working on it, says Cuinn.

Well, I’ll expect it sometime around when you finally figure out the secret to manufacturing the crystals.

Oh, that’s done, says Cuinn.

WHAT?

That’s why the SongLuminants are here.  You don’t really think that they give a rotten root over what happened with General Panic, do you?  I was gonna save this for my testimony, but I might as well say it now: yeah, I know how to make the crystals, but do you have any idea how many of them we’d need to lay in an array just to get from here to Tasea?  And we’d have to do it in real space, which means it would take generations.  We aren’t leaving the Domha’vei any time soon.

Why? asks Malachi.  Why not lay the crystals through a parallel universe?

Are you out of your fucking tree? asks Cillian.  We don’t know what going through a wormhole would do to I and I.

Probably the same thing it did to Jamey when he first tried it, I reply.  I and I would need some kind of shielding, like the way the mycorrhizae protect our roots.

I’m thinking about it now.  It’s basically an engineering problem.  I’m not that good with organics, though.  But then I and I isn’t organic.  He’s composed completely of nul-energy.  This is a physics problem.  I’d need Cuinn’s help with the trans-universal geometries, but he’s the theory guy.

It’s easy to test, I say.  We’d just set up relay hubs through a stable wormhole and try sending nul-energy through them.  At the reception point, we monitor for any changes in the form of the energy.  I’d say things like frequency and wavelength, but that’s wrong, isn’t it?  I’ll defer to Cuinn.

Nul-energy doesn’t have either, says Cuinn.  In our universe, it is slightly affected by the forces of gravity and entropy, but not as much as you’d expect from native matter and energy.  It’s subject to pudge.  It is composed of particles, but not the same particles that we see in this universe.  Instead of a photon, let’s call it a nultron.  Y’know, nultrino sounds a lot better, but it’s more like a photon than a neutrino, so maybe we’d better stick with nultron.  All right, nultrons don’t have wave properties like frequency and wavelength.  They’ve got more, um, like, bounce and scatter.   Which kind of makes sense because like I’ve said before, the geometry of the nul-universe is kind of bendy.  Nultrons don’t even have particle properties like spin.  It’s more like glitter.  Actually, glitter is a much better name than spin, because it does sorta twinkle, whereas spin doesn’t have anything to do with spinning at all.  But people think it does, and so it’s kind of misleading.  I’m trying to be careful about naming conventions.  It’s too bad about nultrino, though.

Does anyone have the faintest idea what he’s talking about? asks Tommy.

Honestly, no, I say.  But looking at it from a practical perspective, can bounce and scatter be measured?

Of course they can be measured, Cuinn replies.  He looks a bit miffed, which is rare for Cuinn.  Dude, he continues, it’s not science if you can’t measure it.

So you’re saying that we look at how fucked up the nul-energy in the test gets by beaming it through the wormhole, and that’s how fucked up I and I would get if He tried it, says Cillian.  Charming.

But then we’ll also know what we need to compensate for.  It’s a little more planned than just sticking your roots someplace potentially dangerous.  Sometimes I don’t know what you guys are thinking, I say, looking at Davy.

I’m not, says Davy.  I’m not thinking at all.  If I thought about it, I’d really muck it up.

The mycorrhizae form an actual physical barrier, I say.  Would that be practical for I and I?  To generate some kind of hard shell?  A vehicle?  Or what might work better is if He were to generate some kind of energy wall, like a force bubble.  Fight fire with fire.

Owen, you’re good, says Tommy.  Why don’t you speak up more?

Because he’s too preoccupied with Lugh, says Lorcan.

No, says Lugh, that’s not it.  Owen doesn’t say much because he’s ashamed.  He still sees himself as responsible for the mining disaster that killed all those people and caused us to lose the crystal synthesizer.  And because of the circumstances, he never got much face-time with Tara before his branch was lost and that whole horrible thing happened with the cuttings.

Let’s be blunt, I say.  I was never a favorite.  But Tara likes Lugh, and now that we emanate together, I just come with the package.

That’s not true, Lugh protests.

Tara just likes the kinky threesome, says Lorcan.

What’s wrong with that? says Tommy.  And if one – or two – of us win, we all win.  So Owen has his place.  An important place.

It’s not that easy, says Ross.  Exactly because we can all win by the actions of one of us, the ones who lose will tend to drop into the background.  It’s easier to stay silent than to face the shame.  It’s much less painful.   But we all have a place.  Every one of us is here for a reason.

That doesn’t mean we won’t become obsolete, says Lorcan.

No emanation is expendable, says Dermot.  That’s Tara’s rule.  And everything we do is for Tara.  We have to trust that one some level, she knows what she’s doing.  And for a voice to be silent, it lessens what we are.

“I’d like to talk about that,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.  “That’s the thing that really mystifies me.  How something could evolve so quickly and powerfully by responding to the needs of something so pathetically insignificant.”

There is immediate and stony silence.  The fish senses the sudden chill and scoots a little closer to the wall again.

Since it’s my turn, I suppose I’ll have to answer it: Tara is not insignificant.  She’s the only thing of significance in this universe or any other.

“But wait,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.  “If I grok this, every Cu’enashti feels exactly the same way about its mate.”

That’s their problem.

“But isn’t it illogical, considering that they all disagree?  It’s like religions, each arguing that their god is better, or even the only god.  That’s why we Brrrrrrrrrrrrvvbh gave up on religion eons ago.”

It’s not illogical, I say.  They are simply mistaken.  And it’s easy to prove.  First: only a handful of Cu’enashti are capable of leaving Dolparessa.  Second: I and I controls the power of the Archonate.  Third: Among the emanations we have generated a number and variety of personae in flexible response to circumstance that is unique among Cu’enashti.  No other can create life.  No other bothers to understand and practice science.  We alone have political ambitions.  We accomplish all this because Tara is the center of all purpose.

“Then how do the other Cu’enashti reconcile their failures with the premise that their partner is the center of the universe?”

They feel it is not a failure of their Chosen, but of their own devotion, their n’aashet n’aaverti.

“Well, couldn’t you make the same argument, that your achievement is a result of your superior devotion?  That the cause is within you, not her?”

Among our people, that is widely believed, which is why the Cu’enashti revere the Atlas Tree.  They see us as a role model.  However, we know the truth.  They are deluding themselves.  Tara is the center of the universe.

If I might jump in, says Hurley, the SongLuminants were perfectly all right with us planning to lay a crystal grid through a wormhole, but now they think we’re crazy.

They only think we’re crazy, says Malachi, because they’re looking at Tara now.  That means that they are incapable of predicting the future.

The Floatfish looks startled.  I’ve never seen a fish look startled before.  It’s interesting.

“There is no deterministic future.  There is only probability, which gets more and more dilute when you move further away from the moment of origination.  The billions and billions of intermediate choices will make prediction of anything farther away than a few decades near-impossible.”

It’s like impressionism, says Driscoll.  There’s a lot of smear, but the overall outline of the picture is there.  Here, look.

We look.

“And that’s some 1400 years away?” asks Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.

Nobody answers.  We’re still looking.

“You’re being rude,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv.

Sorry.

“It’s got to be some weird quantum entanglement.”

Wow, says Cuinn, that’s an interesting theory.  Except that I and I is made of completely different kinds of particles than Tara.  I don’t see how her spin or charge or anything could possibly affect him.  Unless there’s some kind of trans-universal particle pairing going on.  I don’t even know if anyone’s theorized about that.  Geez, I wish I could talk to Clive.

Hurley says, They’re thinking about it.

Onward – ->

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