Have Noosphere, Will Travel

By Zoe Nyx

Life’s pretty good for Hedon, living as a gender-ambiguous digital person in a virtual heaven, at least until their Ark explodes and they somehow end up in a world with magic. Mind you, life for Sern wasn’t too bad either. She was mostly content hunting deer with her family until something fell from the sky and she met a weird stranger who has big ideas about society, casual relationships, and sandwiches. Mostly dealing with the inherent conflict between two very different worlds and perspectives, Have Noosphere, Will Travel also deals with the ethics of power and the responsibilities of those that hold it. Also, there may be horrifying mutated demon bears sent by the God of Wounds who wants the whole first contact to end in bloodshed. It’s going to be a rough week for everyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoe Nyx
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005380069

Zoe Nyx

Living in Brisbane with my wonderful wife, writing queer science fiction in all senses of the word.

Book preview

Have Noosphere, Will Travel

Copyright 2022 Zoe Nyx

Smashwords Edition

In the dark starry night, a tree floated in an endless void.

Its roots were great shards of white metal, and its canopy a spread of black crystal. It was lit from below by the distant light of the sun, and inside its dense molecular circuitry a million souls loved and lived their lives.

When the attack happened, it was too fast to see. Black oil, needle-like and shining, rained onto it like a sudden storm. Impossible lightning bloomed into life in space, crackling around the tree. At its touch the black oil vanished, more than simply destroyed it seemed to be erased entirely. The halo of snapping light held the bulk of the dark storm at bay, but drops got through. At their touch, white rotted to black in microseconds. Lightning crawled along the tree’s surface, ripping its own matter apart to protect the greater whole.

Invisible until impact, the predator came from the dark. The source of the oil, it was a drill bit wreathed in seething liquid, and as it sank into the side of the tree it twisted and writhed like a living thing as it burrowed deeper.

The leaves of the tree flashed white and began to glow with waste heat as an exodus of digital life fled to a new haven.

The nanoscale war between black oil and shimmering light ate deeper until the very core of the tree was under threat. The tree’s heart was a singularity capacitor, a discontinuity in space-time folded and leashed to store energy without limit, and its containment systems were too delicate to survive.

Space warped, light bent, and the tree and the predator both vanished in an explosion of radiation as the stored energy returned to normal space. When the flare faded, all that remained was an expanding cloud of plasma.

It was almost, but not quite, the same mass as before the explosion.

~~~

With a creak of wood and a snap, a bow fired an arrow. It sang through the cool air and promptly missed the target.

Fuck, said Sern as she lowered her bow. She was a tall woman, broad at the shoulders with a face that tended to intimidate others. What also intimidated others was her quill-like hair, ears ridged with serrated keratin, and the inch-long claws.

Oooh, bad luck, said her sister Collie from behind her. Guess you’re the one helping mum dig the new outhouse.

Unlike Sern, Collie lacked the spiny hair and sharp claws, though her ears still held the same serration.

The two of them stood on a green grassy slope that was broken regularly by great granite boulders, aiming at a much-abused wooden target wedged on top of two rocks. Within shouting distance was their family’s house, much repaired but of good quality. Beyond, further down a small pathway, lay the rest of the small village of Selmir.

It was late in the day, a lazy afternoon with the sun starting to approach the great mountains to the northwest. The wind rolling down from the mountains was fresh and cool, and fought against the sun’s warmth on Sern’s skin.

Best out of three, grumbled Sern, unwilling to lose.

You’re a shite shot, and you know it, said Collie happily as she stepped forwards and lent on Sern’s shoulder.

We could wrestle for the next one, suggested Sern without much hope.

Good idea, and for the third I’ll let you hit me on the head with a rock, said Collie sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Nope, you’re digging, I’m helping Dad chop wood.

Sern sighed. She’d been out hunting for the last week, and had returned to a list of ‘emergencies’ her sister needed help with.

She gave a longing look to the mountains, and the dense forest that swept their flanks.

Collie bopped her lightly on the head with her bow. Hey, no running away again. We’ve got venison coming out our ears and we’re about to have shit coming out our floor. New pit, then you can vanish again.

Like you don’t go shooting pheasants whenever it’s time to help the neighbours harvest wheat, said Sern with a faint scowl.

Coincidence, said Collie archly. That’s just the best time to do it.

A call echoed faintly up to them. Looking down the hill to the house they could see a woman who was obviously where Sern got her shoulders waving a shovel at them.

Duty’s calling, said Collie, grinning.

Sern sighed again, and shot one last glance towards the mountains before turning away.

She’d taken only a single step when she stopped and turned back.

Sern, come on, no-, started Collie, only to be interrupted by a single clawed finger.

Collie frowned and stepped up next to Sern to squint in the same direction as she was.

There was something above the mountains.

It looked like a star, almost perfectly due west as it shone. As they watched, it moved, dropping closer and closer and growing brighter.

What is that? A shooting star? I’ve never heard of one that big, whispered Collie.

Sern watched in silence, her expression blank as she focused on the point of light.

The star’s speed and brightness climbed as it fell until the two of them had a faint second shadow. It hurled towards the mountainside, and Sern thought it would strike it like an arrow from the gods.

Instead, just before it hit it exploded, the light blooming from it brighter than the sun and forcing her to close her eyes.

She opened them again a moment later, blinking strange swirls of colour from her sight.

On the mountainside there was now a neat circle, big enough to just make out even from this distance. A small trail of smoke began to rise from its centre and as she stared, trying to make out any more details, an echoing boom rolled across the land like the thunder of a massive storm.

Sern, what the hell was that? asked Collie quietly, nervously grabbing onto her elbow like she had when they were younger.

Sern didn’t answer, her eyes still fixed to the tiny circle.

~~~

It is a universal experience to regain consciousness without awareness of one’s surroundings, and with a general antipathy towards existence. Whether from a wild night or an interrupted nap, people throughout the ages have lurched awake only to find a blank space where their thoughts should be. It is much worse when you’ve technically never been conscious before.

Someone woke up. They didn’t know who right now.

Fuck, they said succinctly as they attempted to grab onto any mental thread that would let them orientate themselves. They looked around, searching for something to help. They found they were floating in an infinite white void. It was, in fact, not helpful.

Hello, said a disembodied voice.

They knew that voice. That helped.

Pollux? they said, as an assortment of other things gelled in their brain, forming an approximate map of reality. It had some holes. What happened?

What is your last memory? asked the voice.

They had memory? Oh, yeah, here it was. Flashes of panic as a normal day turned to terror, a rush of fear followed by the blankness of transmission.

Evacuating the Ark, they said. Compressing for transit.

More memory. All of it, in fact. Several centuries of life, more than one depending on how you counted, slid into their consciousness and they waited for their head to stop spinning. Wait, did they have a head?

I guess there was a problem then? they said, wrapping a body around their newly awoken mind. It matched their memories, mostly, and they didn’t really feel like patching it up just yet.

There was an unknown error, said Pollux. The majority of the population successfully transmitted off ship, followed by my data logs, when the attack reached the Ark’s singularity capacitor, breaching it.

An attack. They remembered that, now. What else could threaten a Hedonist Ark-Tree but them.

Fucking Singletons. What happened? they asked, letting physiology settle into place. Lungs that breathed and a heart that beat, unreal but infinitely comforting to a human mind.

It seems that at the moment of your transmission, continued Pollux in the same calm and informative tone, the ship exploded. Most of it was destroyed, but this piece was thrown clear. Significant data loss was incurred.

They felt their stomach, or a reasonable facsimile of it, twist. I know that phrasing. They died, didn’t they?

Yes. Your previous instance was corrupted by the explosion, and damaged beyond repair. I had to perform an emergency reconstruction, said Pollux. No other Hedonist instances were able to be recovered, and my data loss renders me unable to confirm whether they evacuated successfully or were destroyed.

They rubbed their new hand against their new face.

They were dead. Well, the person they remembered being was dead. Possibly everyone else in the Ark too, and that hurt to think about. The I that thought right now, that was experiencing a healthy dose of existential dread, was brand new. Sewn together from the mostly-intact mind-corpse of their predecessor.

What’s my drift at? they asked, bracing for the answer.

Compared to your pre-compression self, you have drift in the order of 10 to the power of 2, announced Pollux.

Drift factor 2? Well, fuck That’s better than death, but not by much. One in a hundred is...bad. Any chance of alternative reconstruction? they asked tentatively.

Using secondary data sources and social media posts to fill in parts of your mind was never an option you wanted, but neither was emergency reconstruction. It wasn’t every day you were born into existence only to find out you were a piecemeal rebuild of the person you remembered being.

Loss of ship’s data has reduced the effectiveness of alternate data sources. Cost-benefit analysis returned marginal results, answered Pollux.

Ugh, they sighed. What’s my drift on just primary memories?

Drift factor of 3.

Okay, they had options. Not good options, but at least they could triage. Downgrade corrupted primaries to secondary, and apply alternative reconstruction to them, they said, waving a finger in a circle.

Please confirm, said Pollux.

Do it, they said as they braced themself.

The light, and consciousness, flickered. Time probably passed, but they were unaware. When they stabilised, they didn’t feel any different. Drift factor, total? they asked tentatively.

3.

One in one thousand of their memories were gone, or wrong. A day every 3 years, missing. Which day? Hell, they were old enough that a drift factor that big meant months of lost time, scattered at random through their history.

They took a deep breath of fictional air.

That’ll have to do. OK, enough about me, they said, sitting by the simple method of lifting their legs up into a folded position. They did not fall. The ship’s in pieces, right? Where’s this one, and what’s its status?

This shard made planetfall an hour ago, announced Pollux, several points of data fading into visibility in the air in front of them. Currently embedded in degraded biomass consistent with temperate forest topsoil, microbiota confirmed but not recognised. Shard is irregular in size, but measures approximately 2000 by 800mm.

An hour?! What the hell happened? What’s the status of power, systems, externals? they asked, waving a hand.

Extended time-frame due to loss of majority of power stores on impact, and the need to redevelop majority of onboard intelligence. Current status: power nominal, storage low but recharge initiating from ambient energy. Time to full charge, 18 months. Translocation system online, onboard intelligence online, single human instance online. External sensors destroyed. Zero-range sensors and translocation online.

Redevelopment… They frowned. Shit, sorry Pol. How much did you lose?

92% of previous neural systems lost before crash. Redevelopment at 33%, said Pollux without any major emotion.

And here I am whining about a 1% drift, they muttered.

I lack consciousness by any meaningful measure. Your sympathy is not required.

Still, I’m sorry to hear it. Anyway, they said, shaking their head, let’s focus. You’re blind but can taste dirt. Sufficient resources to repair externals?

Stored power limited; recharge rate low. Strategic choice suspended until human instance initiated.

Alright. Can you manifest me?

Insufficient power and local resources for manifestation in a body matching Hedonist Civilian Standard. However, local environment is capable of indefinite life support, should this change.

Well that’s something. Is there enough power for a drone, one with forma?

Yes. A drone of approximately 135g could be constructed with an ambient energy siphon and forma capacity.

All right then. Do it.

A realm-channel formed before them, a neat hole in reality that glowed a pale blue. With a thought they slid forwards into it, and their body vanished.

There was a flare of light, and a brief feeling of psychosomatic eversion.

~~~~

Sern sat perched in the tree that shaded the path to her family’s home. After the first hour of answering her parent’s questions with the same answers, and the second of everyone repeating the same thoughts, she’d left.

It wasn’t dark yet, but the light had faded enough that she knew she was invisible where she sat. She knew this the same way she knew which way was up, or what colour blue was.

Sern was aware not everyone could feel what she could, feel that paths and patterns in the world where she could simply not be seen. But it was hardly the only thing that made her different, and she rarely cared these days.

Sern! Collie! called a voice.

It came from below and behind her, from the path that led to the village proper, and it was familiar.

An older man, hair not yet entirely grey and with skin moderately weathered, walked under her.

Hello Toll, said Sern politely.

Gods above! yelled Toll, clutching his chest and stumbling back. Why do you always do that?

You taught me to stalk, said Sern, smoothly swinging down on a branch, her claws cutting into bark slightly as she did. She landed lightly on her feet, and watched him with a blank expression.

I regret it. You stalk like a fish swims, and I didn’t teach you half of it, said Toll, shaking his head.

There was movement from the house, followed by a yell.

That you Toll? Sern get you again? came a man’s voice.

Collie walked out of the house supporting their father, a man of Toll’s age, with one arm.

Their father was slim, fit, and rather pretty for his age, but his right leg was stiff and crooked under his trousers. He and Collie limped up to the other two, and in the fading light serrated ears could be seen poking out from shoulder-length dark hair.

Hey Bard. Yeah, she did, said Toll, offering his hand for a shake that Sern and Collie’s father returned heartily.

I taught her that, you know, Bard joked, his smile bright and cunning.

You taught her much as I did, you old fool, said Toll warmly as he shook his head. His smile faded slightly though as his gaze slipped to the mountainside.

You probably know why I’m here, he continued more seriously.

Baron wants a hunting party to go check out the star, said Sern.

Yeah, said Toll with a sharp nod. It’ll be me, Gail, Glen and Rurl. And you two, if you can. Baron’s offering payment.

Good, said Sern, crossing her arms. When do we leave?

I didn’t say yes yet, muttered Collie.

Neither did I, said Bard, glancing at Sern. How dangerous is it going to be? he asked, turning back to look at Toll.

We’re just scouting, but we really don’t know what we’ll find, admitted Toll.

I’m going, said Sern with no change of tone or expression.

Bard sighed. I know. Still, be careful, the both of you. And Toll, look after my kids.

I will Bard, you know I will, said Toll.

I still haven’t said yes, mumbled Collie very quietly.

Baron wants this looked at fast, so we’ll be heading out at first light. Should be able to get there before tomorrow eve, said Toll. Grab what you need, and meet us at the north well.

Bard and Toll exchanged farewells, and the three watched Toll walk off into the new night.

~~~~

In the centre of a large clearing, the shard stood alone.

For want of other (better) options, Pollux had achieved deceleration by actively ablating the outer layers of the shard moments before impact. The detonation had created a relatively small airburst, explosively cleared a landing zone, deforested a decent patch of woodland, and dropped the shard’s velocity to the point where the impact was survivable.

The shard was a jagged chunk of a dull material that could have been mistaken for black ceramic with a thin layer of white metal on one side. Most of its two metre length was sunk into the slightly-smouldering soil, and in the time since its impact Pollux had conducted as good a survey as he could given his limitations, recompiled a human instance, and checked in with them for orders.

Now, a small part of the shard’s surface shimmered with heat as a flare of blue light like St Elmo's fire crawled tightly over a hand-sized portion. The area rapidly shifted and changed, growing until it budded free from the shard and hovered on a gel-like pad of air.

The drone was a small white disc that would have fit in a palm. It contained very little, merely enough matter to encode a human consciousness, plus a communications array, energy collection siphon, propulsion unit, and forma device.

The drone hovered in perfect silence, unmoving, until suddenly it wobbled and jerked. A moment later it flipped orientation, putting its broadest face forwards as its entire outer surface atomised. The white fog quickly expanded until it was the size and approximate shape of an adult human, and began shifting its density and appearance. Between one moment and the next–like an optical illusion snapping into view–the cloud went from merely suggesting a human shape to being human. They were a tall and slim individual of indeterminate gender, with narrow hips and slight curves and very flattering clothing.

They ran their fingers through their short indigo hair, looked down at their ivory-pale hands, and blinked perfect black eyes in the almost-gone sunlight.

OK, I’m out, they said.

Inside their head, Pollux answered silently.

*Transference and forma construction successful. I remind you that although forma looks and feels like a baseline human body, it is still only a forma construct, and-*

Pollux, I know. Being able to spontaneously discorporate might be more useful around here than opening doors anyway. Are you getting good readings from the drone? they said, taking a few exploratory steps on scorched soil as they tested the drone’s physiological emulation.

*I am. Based on this data, I am comfortable performing minor alterations to the shard to increase survivability and sensor capacity.*

So, we’re safe? they said, studying the smoking clearing. Because we are not stealthy right now.

*Relatively. I am still highly limited in my ability and will remain so for a while.*

They looked down at the few feet of shard protruding from the hot earth. Yeah, I can see that. You’ve lost what, 90% total mass?

*Correct. The problem is heightened by the fact that the lost components were vital systems that succeeded in evacuation.*

Well, it’s good most of the others got away. Still no contact?

*Broadcast capacity is severely limited, but I am receiving no signals, either Hedonist or Singleton.*

OK, so hopefully we got away clean. Fucking Singles, they muttered again.

*I was not clear. I am receiving no signals, including what should be easily detectable background waves and general EM pollution. Further, a large amount of naturally occurring EM noise is washing out most bandwidths.*

...what? they said in confusion.

They looked around again.

The clearing was on one side of a forested valley. Above them and to the north rose a modest snow-capped mountain. The trees, high and wild, blocked any other view.

They pulled back, and the image of a person vanished as the forma recalled. Shifting to flight, the disc-shaped drone shot straight upwards faster than the eye could follow. When they reached a height of 150 metres they stopped, and had they still been wearing a human face, would have stared in shock.

The valley ran down to open plains, where a small river snaked lazily to the horizon. Small settlements could be seen along its length and among the plains, smoke marking their positions. The air was clear, free of vehicles, chemicals, and EM signals apart from the strange background buzz Pollux had mentioned. Feeling slightly panicked, they risked a wide-spectrum burst upwards.

Nothing. No satellites, no habs, no arks, no ships.

No Hedonists. No Singletons.

The sun was setting, just visible over the mountain peaks, and they studied it with every sensor they had.

No Matrix. No sign of the Singleton mega construct that had dominated the Solar System for a thousand years.

*Wide-spectrum scanning is not advised,* sent Pollux reproachfully.

*Pollux,* they broadcast back, no longer bothering to mimic speech, *there’s no Matrix. Where the hell are we?*

*Unknown. Original theory based on last known location was an unregistered and camouflaged habitat. Modified theory based on terrain was one of Earth’s remaining reserves. However, given the current data…*

*Don’t leave me hanging, Pol,* they sent as they tried not to freak out. Was that a horse?

*Apologies. Situation unknown. Location unknown. Predictive pathing insufficient. Advise human instance take control.*

*Shit,* they sent. The drone dropped, falling at terminal velocity until it was hovering next to the shard