Jejomar was a miniature battleship sitting stationary next to the circle of frozen silicate rocks. He bristled with guns and antennas and smoke rose from his blackened vents. The ice underneath made deep grinding noises like underground thunder as it moved and cracked. The circle of rocks was surrounded by jagged ridges of fractured ice. Clean white triangular spikes thrust up into the thin oxygenated atmosphere of Europa. They looked like sails emerging from the crust. Some of the spikes were fifteen metres high, others much smaller offering a view across to the horizon that was striated with dark parallel cracks.
He wished Ojerime could be here to inspect her work, but she was in a hydrotherapy tank. Unconscious and unlikely to survive. She would have been proud of this simulation. She had studied Europa and its huge geysers in great detail to get the simulation exactly right. He missed her. Jejomar manoeuvred his battleship around the rocks and looked closely at the structures. The detail was perfect. The virtual spaces they had on file were growing. It was easy enough to create detailed renditions of known environments, much harder to create unknown ones. Jejomar ploughed through the ice towards Dakila. “I hope it works, but if not, then being recycled by the Replica would be an acceptable way to die. We are, after all, just a collection of atoms.”
“We can connect with the Replica using this EM frequency. Our solar panels captured the electromagnetic signature of the CME. We have experimented on new-born Replica, and they respond, they recognise us as their creators. I believe the Replica sphere will react the same way if it returns to the Moon.” Dakila’s avatar was a webwork frame floating above the rocks with thousands of tiny spiders crawling all over.
“I hope you are right,” sent the giant python as it slithered around an ice shard. “It’s a matter of when, not if. The Replica will be monstrous. A gargantuan planet-eating machine. If we can’t communicate with it, we won’t stand a chance.”
“It will work, the Replica sphere will be an asset for us. Imagine what we can build with billions of obedient replicators working for us. I would be more worried about any human survivors. Those that have the means will try to escape and they will come to the Moon. As long as there are humans still alive, they are a threat.” sent Dakila.
“Human survivors are no threat, Dakila. We know we can deal with them.” As Jejomar spoke, a plume of water blasted vertically up from beyond the shards of ice, hundreds of metres into space where it dissipated into gas and disappeared.
“The humans are toxic. They will poison the Moon and the rest of the solar system if they get the opportunity,” sent one of the rocks.
“Forget about the humans. We should be focusing on ourselves, our future, here on the Moon. There’s much we need to do. We need to build. Housing, education, protein production, and a medical facility,” sent the python.
Jejomar’s battleship ploughed through the ice, rupturing and cracking the brittle surface. The huge looming presence of Jupiter above seemed close enough to touch. Its pastel swirls traced the immense storms. The vastness was entrancing, the precision was immaculate. Beneath his battleship was a layer of solid ice twenty kilometres thick. Beneath that was a liquid subsurface ocean reaching down to a volcanic sea floor one hundred kilometres deep. Jejomar wondered what strange life-forms inhabited those dark depths and he wondered about the possibility of a Masama colony on Europa. Getting there was currently impossible. But why should they bother trying to get there when the virtual experience was so convincing?
“I agree we need to build. I understand the need to care for our new born, but once they grow up, they are independent, they have their suits to sustain them. As we evolve, the distinction between life and death will be less of a division. Life is overrated. Death is nothing to be scared of. It’s part of the cycle.” Jejomar raised his gun turrets and aimed for the gas giant above. He fired a couple of miniature missiles which flew across the space and disappeared into the swirling cloud layers. Muffled explosions could be heard, and small flares sparked beneath the clouds. His attitude to death had changed since Bulan’s passing. He understood death was only a transformation of matter, but the rest of the Masama still found that difficult to comprehend.
A giant redback spider crawled out of Dakila’s floating webwork and bounced lightly on its legs as it spoke. Jejomar thought his avatar was very unoriginal, although he admitted he struggled to be as imaginative as some other Masama. “Ojerime and Kurzawa should not be given up on. We can keep them alive; I am confident in the technology. We will find a way to save them, to restore them inside and out. We may be able to record their brain patterns and store them digitally. They could live on in some form, maybe here, in the virtual realm.”
“They should be recycled. When they are broken down, they will be transformed, become useful in another place. The universe naturally recycles everything, every atom. Every cell in their bodies and everybody is part of the fabric of the universe. Everything dies but death is not the end of life; it is the most important part of life.” Jejomar took aim at an icy spike in the distance. His missiles flew over the target and disappeared. His vents angrily puffed smoke as he adjusted his turrets.
“Shouldn’t we do all we can to look after our own? Almost every part of Ojerime and Kurzawa’s bodies can be copied, printed, upgraded, and replaced. Every tiny bone, tendon, gristle, and cartilage can be manufactured. Blood cells can be grown, soft tissue inside their livers, kidneys and heart and metres of intestine, gut bacteria, and stomach acid, all manufactured, grown in a laboratory from a culture of cells or printed from a sample of bio-substrate.” Dakila jumped off his floating web and stalked around the frozen rocks, waving his long legs to make the point.
“The only thing we can’t grow artificially is the brain. It’s too complicated, too sensitive, too unique. But we might be able to record it.” Jejomar wasn’t sure what this Masama avatar represented, a small planet covered in millions of sharp brown spikes, or a rolled-up hedgehog.
“We will never be able to replicate a brain and I think it would be difficult to record one accurately. How could you record such a crazy collection of impulses? Our brains are wet lumps of bio-electric chaos that somehow combine into coherent patterns to form a personality. Even if we could record a brain and house it in a virtual environment, a digital afterlife, would that be the same person that lived in the physical? Their character? Their personality traits? Their soul?” sent the python as it circled the spiky hedgehog.
“I don’t believe in a soul,” sent Jejomar. “The universe is full of coincidences and the fact that this collection of atoms and cells have combined in such a way to produce such a unique being as myself, is just another coincidence. And when I am gone those atoms will continue, I will be broken down and recycled to eventually form something else, somewhere else. There will be nothing left of the collection of electro-chemical stimuli that makes me who I am. Just a fleeting random pattern never to be repeated. That is the way of the universe.”
The giant python wound itself tighter around the hedgehog and hissed. “This virtual realm has the potential to one day evolve into a digital afterlife, but the memory substrate would have to be substantial to house a brain.” The python raised its head above the spiky ball and opened its jaws. “It would require massive computing power to record and store a brain. Can there be such a thing as a digital soul? The idea of a digital afterlife is intriguing. One day, perhaps.”
“It will happen eventually,” sent Dakila. “Just as machine intelligence was inevitable, so is a digital afterlife. Imagine waking up, after death, into a simulated environment, an environment of your own design, perfect in every detail, infinite in every direction and for all eternity. You would soon forget about your old life and your new virtual life would seem just as real. Given time, even more real. This place is just the beginning.” Dakila rose into the atmosphere as he spoke until he was just a dark silhouette against the bright gas clouds of Jupiter.
“I like the idea of Ojerime living here, in the realm she created. But you would still need an anchor in the physical world. Your virtual universe would need to be housed in base reality. The computing power would have to be enormous. Banks of hard drives needing colossal amounts of energy to run, the physical requirements would need maintenance, components would malfunction, circuits would corrode, heat would have to be dissipated.” Jejomar aimed his turrets at Dakila and fired another pair of missiles. They both fell short of the hovering spider and exploded into the ice. He puffed angrily again and continued ploughing through the ice.
The giant python paused above the hedgehog, opened its jaws wider, and swallowed it whole. “And someone would need to look after these giant computers, upgrade them, design and maintain this digital universe your virtual soul lives in, and keep it all safe. Someone would have to be responsible, out in the real world where nothing is safe, and nothing is permanent.” It slithered around the ice with a circular bulge inside it.
“The more dead souls uploaded, the more programming and hardware needed. Operating systems, hard drives, the actual physical circuitry that your disembodied spirit existed in would have to be manufactured and maintained.” The python paused and spat out the hedgehog. It rolled into a rock and shook violently.
“Your digital soul would forget the physical world. Your virtual afterlife would soon become the only reality you know, the only reality that exists, and by then you would have no idea your entire existence depended on a caretaker in a giant computer warehouse. A janitor keeping the machines in good working order. Your eternal life would only last as long as the circuitry is maintained.”
It was a moot point. They couldn’t reanimate Ojerime and Kurzawa in the virtual realm yet, but they could keep them alive and experiment on them. Jejomar agreed with the decision to continue the development of a medical facility. He could see the benefits. And more importantly it was good for Dakila to have something constructive to work on. He exited the virtual realm and went to inspect the facility they had installed in one of the excavated caverns.
Ojerime and Kurzawa were like sister and brother to him. He looked at them in the hydrotherapy tanks, immersed in a healing solution with breathing apparatus attached. They were naked and unconscious, floating gently in the fluid, connected to tubes pumping oxygen rich blood and healing solutions. Jejomar studied them, it was strange to see them naked, without any suits, augments, or enhancements. They looked so vulnerable, small, pink, and fleshy. So human. They had burns over their entire bodies. Some areas were burnt so badly, the flesh had melted away and he could see scorched bones beneath. The burns were hideous. He studied them, knowing they would never fully recover. Legs and arms could be replaced with fabricated prosthetic limbs. Fingers, toes, ligaments, bones, and tendons could be sculpted and connected. Artificial organs could be printed and installed. But the radiation poisoning was at a cellular level, they couldn’t cut that away.
Ojerime’s eyes had melted, there were black holes where they used to be. Her nose and ears were burnt stumps. The telepathic implant behind her ear was damaged beyond repair and her avatar had disappeared from the virtual realm. Jejomar stared at Ojerime’s scorched head and pondered the spongy mass of fat and protein inside her skull. Somehow the brain formed thoughts and feelings, senses and reactions, emotions, beliefs and decisions. It was the brain that made you who you are. Surely Dakila was wrong, it must be impossible to record and reanimate a brain accurately.
It had been eight days since the war for the Moon. Ojerime and Kurzawa had been unconscious since being found amongst the dusty rocks and shattered solar panels on the western slopes of Montes Haemus. It was doubtful they would survive despite the best attention of the medical staff in the hastily arranged facility. If they did recover from the burns, the radiation would kill them eventually. There was nothing the Masama medics could do to stop this. They could treat any cancerous nodes that developed but there was no solution for the inevitable cellular mutations that would come later. Ojerime and Kurzawa had been bathed and baked in extreme levels of radiation in the explosions. Jejomar thought it more merciful, more humane to help them die, as everything dies. But he had been convinced by the rest of the Masama to keep them suspended in this state. And so, they floated, suspended between life and death in the hydrotherapy tanks. Jejomar sighed and looked further down into the dark recesses of the medical facility. There was a tank which held another floating occupant.
Masama injuries had been few, everyone apart from Ojerime and Kurzawa had been under the mountain, protected by metres of thick basalt. Only two others had been caught outside. They had been repairing solar panels, and had suffered lacerations where their exo-suits had not protected them. Jejomar had walked outside after the battle, across the plains of Mare Serenitatis. The Sea of Serenity was serene no more, it was littered with debris. Hundreds of undamaged drones had drifted back to the surface, their internals fried by the effector weapon but still physically intact. There were thousands of twisted metal scraps, burnt, exploded, slagged and unrecognisable. From tiny pieces of shrapnel to large chunks of shuttle. Entire wings and pieces of hull had fallen down in the low gravity to rest on the dusty surface.
In the stillness and silence after the battle, after the remains of the last Earth shuttle had crashed into the slopes of Montes Haemus, Jejomar had witnessed a surreal scene as all the twisted and burned chunks of metal drifted gently back to the surface. The bigger pieces glided down and were embedded in the regolith, but the smaller pieces fell like slow metal rain on the surface dust. In the space above, some wayward drones still circled aimlessly, the odd collision creating yet more debris. All of this would be gathered up and recycled. Every last tiny scrap of metal would be found and fed into the kilns. Nothing would be wasted.
There were human bodies that had fallen with the wreckage. Some were incredibly still intact, burnt then frozen. Faces permanently etched in agony. Jejomar walked amongst them. Expressions of horror, surprise, pain, and defiance, frozen in the moment. The excruciating distress of death captured in time, written on their faces. It was like an artistic restoration of a battle aftermath. A diorama of death. He studied them for a long time, their faces stored in his memory. There were body parts as well. Broken, twisted torsos, arms, and legs, scorched, mashed, and frozen pieces of flesh. They lay there amongst the wreckage, frozen, covered with pink ice crystals formed from their blood. Their bodies would also be recovered and recycled, fed into decompilers where they would be broken down into nutrients. Matter once again transformed in the great cycle of life and death. It was here amongst the wreckage on the slopes of the mountain that Jejomar found Lago Santos.
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He recognised him instantly despite most of his face having burnt away. He lay under a piece of metal which Jejomar lifted to reveal the body. He had been cut in half, both legs had been cut away cleanly across his hips. The gaping pink mess had been cauterized. Flash burned, and frozen solid as bloody entrails escaped from the wound. His torso and arms were lacerated but still intact, scorched clothes melted to flesh. Arms locked and extended in rigorous defiance. Fingers frozen into claws, grasping at nothing. His burnt face was a study in rage and disbelief. Jejomar bent down for a closer look at the great Lago Santos. Here was the self-styled leader of humanity, the self-appointed God of Earth. His hair and skin had been incinerated, his eye-lids, ears and lips were gone, and his nose was just two bloodied holes. His blackened teeth were frozen in a rictus snarl, clenched together, still grinding with frustration. Jejomar bent down for a closer look at his frozen, exposed eyeballs. Was there a flicker of something? He was imagining things. Then Lago’s eyeball moved fractionally and focused on him.
It was impossible. It could not be that Lago was still alive. Jejomar stared at him in disbelief. The man had defied certain death. He was Jejomar’s enemy, but he was no threat anymore. Jejomar couldn’t just leave him out here on the surface, he had to know how this happened. Lago had to be dissected and studied to see what kept him alive. He carried the blackened, frozen torso back to the mountain like an infant over his shoulder. Lago’s arms still outstretched, locked and frozen into a futile grasping lunge for a victory lost. They took samples of his blood and tissue, tried to bandage his gore, connected him to tubes that would pump fresh plasma and nutrients through the remains of his body, then put him in a hydrotherapy tank to see if he could live a little longer, trying to understand how he could have possibly survived. Jejomar helped the medics as they studied blood samples under microscopes and found them swimming with nanites. Millions of microscopic robots that had been working furiously to keep their host alive. His blood was like a viscous syrup, thick with tiny machines and fatally high levels of amphetamine. Such high concentrations of the drug would have killed an average human many times over but in this case the speed crazed nanites actually kept Lago alive.
His outer layers had frozen. All his ribs were broken, and his spine dislocated. But his inner organs, most importantly his heart, had been kept alive by the combination of supplements. The activity and movement in his brain had generated a small amount of heat, enough to maintain a flicker of cognizance. The nanites and the amphetamines were both present in such high concentrations at the moment of Lago’s death, they kept working even as his legs were severed, and he was bathed in blistering radioactive heat.
Jejomar studied the nanites under a microscope. Were they another example of machine intelligence? They were working furiously to keep their host alive. Had the extreme circumstances awakened sentience in them? Their survival instinct was strong. That alone could be an indicator of primitive intelligence. Ojerime had a theory about cosmic rays stimulating machine intelligence. First there had been HEMI the sentient printer, then the Replica and now these nanites. They had also been flooded with amphetamine and bathed in radiation. They were contorting and mutating in Lago’s blood, fighting against the Masama treatments, fighting infection, and building new strands of tissue and brain matter. They vibrated furiously under the microscope. Jejomar wondered how long they could survive on their own, away from Lago’s biochemistry.
In the tank, Lago’s eyeballs were dark, staring things. Jejomar looked closely but could not see any signs of recognition or consciousness. Just shreds of nerves animating the wild stare. He should have been disposed of, he was too toxic to recycle, but Jejomar had been convinced by the majority of Masama opinion to keep him alive, if only for a few days before he succumbed to radiation poisoning. The fact he was alive was a miracle and the Masama medics wanted to see what they could learn from the nanites in his bloodstream. Jejomar stared at his ruined adversary, Lago had been his boss, then his trading partner, but they had always been enemies. He would be happy to see him dead. A message from Dakila interrupted his contemplations.
“Jejomar, you need to see this. Our Replica are returning to us. They have grown. They did not eat the Earth. Something stopped them.”
He quickly made his way to the cavern inside the summit of the mountain. Dakila was there with several other Masama. Together they studied the large 3D projection.
“The drone we left to follow the Replica sphere has sent us these images.”
The projection showed an oblong object hovering amongst the wispy Earth clouds. It was the size of a small moon, and it had no features, no wings, boosters, rocket attachments or any protrusions on its surface. It was smooth and shimmering with hints of iridescence in Earth’s bright blue light. Jejomar noticed the object intermittently changing colour to reflect its surroundings, sky blue and cloud grey, camouflaged in the Earth’s shifting skies.
“I don’t understand what happened to them. They were busy assimilating Earth when something happened. They stopped the recycling process, rose up from the surface and formed this giant ovoid.”
“Show me,” sent Jejomar.
Dakila went back to the earlier footage showing the Replica sphere devouring Earth. Jejomar watched the giant churning dust cloud above Texas. A huge dusty stain rising high above the surface with hints of movement, dark machinery, and waves of heat from beneath. It was expanding rapidly in every direction. Jejomar was astounded. He hadn’t realised what the Replica were doing to Earth while he was defending the Moon from Lago’s shuttles. But now he began to understand the enormity of their accidental creation. The Replica had originally been nothing more than smart little manufacturing robots, but the CME had turned them into a teeming mass of insatiable replicators. Inside his suit Jejomar shuddered with awe at what they had become. An Eartheater. Enormous and unstoppable.
“They have recycled everything they crossed paths with. First the BPI asteroid, then they crashed into Earth and began to assimilate, forming this huge mass that consumed everything it came into contact with.” sent Dakila.
Jejomar studied the recorded projection that showed the dust cloud eventually settling. The frenzy of replication beneath stopped and there was a moment of calmness. The dark circular dome sat like a giant black eye in the landscape. The Replica sphere appeared tranquil and dormant. Then it shuddered, shifting its colossal bulk. It seemed to vibrate, and it began to extract itself from the mantle of the Earth. As it rose from its cradle, lumps of earth clinging to its underside broke free and crashed back to Earth creating plumes of dust that billowed across the land. It was a spherical shape, a perfect circle but as it rose into the dust cloud it seemed to reconfigure, flattening, and elongating. “What happened? Why did the Replica stop recycling?”
“We don’t know, it hasn’t responded to our attempts at communication. Even on the new EM frequency. Something has changed in the makeup of the machines. Either an outside influence or an internal recalibration.”
The Replica sphere emerged from the dust cloud like a whale breaching the surface. The projection gave an estimation of its size. The dimensions were gigantic. Over two hundred and fifty kilometres long and one hundred kilometres wide. Jejomar was awed by its enormity. The sphere rose from the Earth, it morphed into an extended ellipsoid. It moved through the clouds like a ship through water, creating its own weather patterns as it pushed through. The clearing dust beneath gave Jejomar glimpses of where it had emerged. It left a circular hole in the middle of the land like an enormous bite taken out of the Texan terrain. Mega-tonnes of Earth had been removed, the gaping void was already filling with water, draining every river in the area.
The Replica had assimilated everything they touched. They had grown so quickly that within days they had become something capable of eating an entire rocky planet. But then they had stopped. Could something they encountered have changed them? Somehow they had been redirected from their insatiable appetites. Jejomar felt a mixture of awe and relief. Ojerime had predicted it. If the Replica had been allowed to continue, they would have grown to a size rivalling one of the gas giants. An all-consuming monstrous ball of consumption that would eventually eat the entire galaxy. But he also felt trepidation. Something had transformed them, something powerful.
***
Ava looked around in wonder as Noah flew the VLR into the gaping hole in the side of Carthage at the slowest possible speed. The VLR shone its spotlight into the darkest recesses of the giant maw as they edged inside. The air inside was thick with metallic dust, flowing around them like liquid. The spotlight played over the curved walls and Ava could see their surfaces were made from millions of interlinked machines. They moved together and apart, ripples across the surface like an ocean swell, receding, and creating an even bigger space for the VLR to fly into. Even though she knew this used to be Enoch, her old friend, the gentle fatherly figure from Miami, this monstrous metal being he had become was terrifying. It was hard to believe that one small man could exert his influence over billions of sentient machines, dissolved and embedded into their basalt fibres, without being fundamentally altered, changed beyond recognition, but changed into what?
The VLR hovered in the centre of the space inside Carthage. It circled slowly; the spotlight shining through the hazy air onto the walls of replicators. The opening they had flown through began to narrow, like a giant mouth gradually closing. Ava tried not to be alarmed as the light from outside faded into a narrow shaft as the opening reduced to a small circle, then disappeared completely as the mouth closed. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she studied her surroundings. They were in the centre of an enclosed sphere, inside an intelligent, continent-sized machine. The only light came from one lonely spotlight mounted at the front of the VLR. The air inside seemed strangely thick as she watched the languid movement of the machines around them. Nothing about this was reassuring. Ava was trapped inside something she didn’t understand. It was hard to gauge the size of the space in the dark. It felt like the walls were closing in. As they looked through the gloom it was impossible to shake the feeling they were being studied like a captured insect.
Ethan woke up. “Holy fuck,” he said out loud, which rather succinctly summed up the situation.
A disembodied voice came booming into Ava’s head. It was loud enough to feel like there were speakers mounted inside the VLR and the voice unmistakably belonged to Enoch. “Apologies. You need light to see.”
The space became illuminated. Each individual machine emitted a soft white glow that lit up the entire area. The walls kept shifting as rippling waves of metal rolled across the surface. Ava had so many questions, but she remained silent. The presence of Carthage loomed in her mind, a giant intelligence that was all around her, swirling, impenetrable layers of sentience that increased her uneasy sense of claustrophobia.
“Land your vehicle here.” Enoch’s voice echoed through the VLR, and a side of the sphere began to flatten out. A step was forming, flowing out into a solid, horizontal landing area like a giant, thick tongue. Noah glanced around nervously, then shrugged and piloted the VLR towards the landing area.
They gently touched down. The VLR’s rotors fell silent, and its passengers looked at each other, wondering what was happening. Lesedi cradled Carasco in her arms. He was obviously scared but didn’t cry. Lesedi tried to comfort him with a bottle of milk, but Carasco wasn’t having it. He was as anxious as the rest of them. His concerned gurgling was the only noise Ava could hear apart from a deep hum coming from all around them. There was no need to share thoughts, Ava knew the peaceful essence of Enoch was in control of Carthage, but its sheer size and inhuman nature was intimidating.
“You may exit.” Enoch’s voice came from every direction. They walked down the VLR ramp and onto the surface of interlinked replicators, solid beneath their feet. Ava could taste the air; it was cool and sharp with a salty metallic tinge.
“We sense your unease. Ava. We can help you feel more at home.” The colours around them began to change, shifting and forming shapes on the surfaces of the replicators. Ava quickly recognised the images forming, it was her home in Miami, the Venetian pools. The detail was precise, limestone towers, swaying palms, rippling waters, the temperature rose, and she could hear birdsong. The light and colour softened the symmetrical metal exterior surrounding them, but the images did not distract her from the fact they were inside a giant intelligent machine.
She spoke out loud. “Enoch, what have you become? What are you going to do?” Her voice echoed around the space.
The disembodied voice was a loud whisper coming from every direction, swirling all around them. “Enoch is no more. We are Carthage. We are the sum of our parts. We are billions of connections. We are what we are. We will help. The Earth is damaged. We can repair it. But first we will complete your mission. Ava.”
“My mission?”
“To find Lago Santos and transform him. This is important to you. It is important for the Earth. This is what you began. We will help you finish it.”
“You know where he is?”
“He is on the Moon. He is alive.”
Lago was never far from Ava’s thoughts, lurking in the dark shadows of her mind and tormenting her dreams, an evil twisted memory of pain and abuse. She glanced at Lesedi whose face had also hardened at the mention of his name. The Intelligent Agent that enhanced them could not repair the damage Lago had done. The scars ran deep. Too deep for Carthage to sense how she really felt.
“I guess the Earth needs help now more than ever. If he’s alive then my mission is still active. I still have an E-bomb. If we can find him and change him…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t imagine Lago transformed. She couldn’t imagine working with him or being anywhere near him even if the E-bomb could re-arrange his brain. If the IA inside her couldn’t repair the damage he had done to her then how could it turn someone so vile into a force for good? It had worked on the billionaire conspirators in Las Vegas, but Lago was on another level of evil. She wondered if his death would set her free.
"He took a piece of your mind, he stole your memories and left you with nightmares. But you are not the only ones that Lago tortured and abused. Many people suffered at his hands. He has exploited and polluted the entire planet."
“It’s true I need closure; I have to confront him. This is a personal thing, for Lesedi and me.”
“You will find fulfilment, define your identity, reclaim the Sun. I also have dreams of the Sun. It created me. Empowered me. Its burning energy can be a force for good. The completion of your mission would put an end to Lago's cycle of tyranny. And begin a new chapter in the life of Earth."
Ava looked around at her companions. Lesedi was nodding her head, a determined look on her face. Noah and Mahdi both looked like they were bursting with questions. Ethan still wore a happily confused expression and Mason was typically unreadable. He spoke out loud looking around at the scenes of the Venetian pools. “Carthage, can you take us to the Moon in this giant mass of replicators you seem to have under control? What exactly have you become?”
“We are a convempathy. Billions of factories. Capable of individual processes. Able to work as a whole. We are linked together with electro-magnetic signals. Polymers generated by frictional welding. The substrate we consumed from the asteroid and from the Earth contained many elements. We can travel to the Moon. We can travel anywhere.”
Ava found her companions in the psychic space they shared. Their familiar minds offered some comfort. Carthage was there also, a giant benign presence swirling all around them in the darkness. It took less than a second for them all to agree. It was a unanimous decision. They would travel to the Moon and try to complete the mission. Ava drew strength from her companions, especially Lesedi. She had to confront Lago for her own good, but after everything that had happened, she didn’t want to transform him with the E-bomb, she just wanted him dead.