India
New Delhi remained a crowded and dirty capital even in 2072. The inhabitants loved the human melting pot and chaos but refused to waste time with the details life in a metropole commonly needed. Here, even in the technical world of the late 21st Century, a generous number of petty crimes and indifference to others took place. Today would be no exception. Life was cheap in this part of the world. Noise and activity literally radiated from the massive market of the Indian capital.
On a small table at the edge of the market were piled large breads of all types. This wasn’t the favored item of this market, but some foreigners living in a rich neighborhood knew the lot was here and traveled far for it. On a corner of the table, the table cloth moved, and the arm of a child reached up from below and grabbed a loaf in what the boy below figured was a successful thievery.
Rolo, the large man selling bread was standing behind the wooden table and saw the movement. This happened each day, and today, he would put an end to it. A knife rested in his large apron, and by the size of the hand, he needed no help to teach the boy a lesson.
Six months ago, the famous Marilyn Monroe rented the man’s image for the famous Round 7 of her latest simulation. The digital creature gave Rolo a small fortune and asked if she could use his image to play a child molester. Rolo did not care, he did not even own or watch television and was a rare person refusing to play her game. Many at first pointed at him, reminding him he was the nemesis in the game. He did not care. These things had already long vanished with the recent craziness of the game. Rolo never even wasted the time to watch the footage.
How could he know the young thief below the table was a copy of the other primary non-player character used in the game? The face of the boy he dashed to catch was the identical younger self of the General Vurdi character. Marilyn not only bought Rolo's image, but also borrowed the boy’s as if she knew he would, months later, try to steal Rolo's bread. No one watched, but the events of Round 7 were unfolding in a decidedly non-digital manner.
The young thief’s hand reached up, and as he was about to grab another small piece of bread, the large man grabbed his small hand and pulled him up like a dog. At first, his mouth dangled openly, but the boy easily wiggled out of the hold and dashed out between the tables holding onto the bread like a football. He ran for it the same way the boy ran for his life as part of Round 7, the round Laurent had begged Sophie to watch on her way to mars.
Without a care for his table, on which rested hundreds of breads, the large baker took off on the boy’s heels as his character had done in the Electoral 2072 game. A minute later, the boy turned a corner into a dark alley, which was also the identical reproduction of what Marilyn had used in the simulation. The cul-de-sac wasn’t a medieval street, it was in New Delhi. It was a dead end cluttered with rubbish. For anyone who had watched the Electoral 2072 competition, the recreation of this now infamous scene was perfect. Marilyn’s images were in fact borrowed from today - for some reason.
“My capacity to see time is remarkable, no?”
“Indeed,” whispered Takeda unable to understand they only were watching from a distance.
Weeks ago, on the ship bound for mars, Laurent asked his daughter to watch this specific performance of the President. In the Comb of Loric, the wizard played used a single powerful spell to transport the old General Vurdi in his past; this past. As a boy, the monster he'd eventually become was molested for having stolen bread in this dirty alley. For the moment, it was impossible to know if this scene, generated by the computer, was borrowed from this real-life scene or if this was the other way around. But life was unfolding in silence watched by Marilyn and Takeda.
The linearity of time was fading, and this was only a first wave. The President who played the wizard in the game used his power to bridge time and space and allow the future self of the boy to alter his own self in the past. The boy, named Francesco, hid in the trash and started shaking. In real-life India, the big man turned the corner, and as he towered around the corner in the alley, he was blocking the light as the character did in the game.
Without anyone watching, the game was now live. But in the shadow, no wizard sent from the future awaited. Instead, there was a different sort of technology at work. As the baker approached, the boy pulled out and offered to return the bread shaking, "My sister is dying," the boy said in a pleading voice. "My parents left us. We . . ." These were not lies. The words and the scene were identical to those broadcasted months before. But this time there was no wizard, no power, no magic, and no audience. The boy was a victim, and there was no doubt as to how the future of this scene would unfold both in violence and sexual abuse.
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This time, instead of magic, was Takeda’s gift to mankind.
“Your gift,” said Marilyn in Takeda’s ear.
Deep within the boy’s body was a virus created in the mind of Takeda. Around the boy, the Multiverse was bending. The boy’s body began to produce endorphins; the Multiverse knew the boy’s future was about to diverge to a dark place. This boy would be hurt, quite possibly die unless he was saved. The Multiverse, bound by consequence to cause, normally needed centuries to act. But now Takeda had given it a tool, a perfect switch which sped and powered her rein over consequence to cause. The Multiverse was free of altering random occurrences to transform this boy into the perfect cause she needed.
The Multiverse liked the boy, she needed him to stay alive.
The Multiverse also needed the baker alive.
Energy began to build as the virus’ own genetic code shuffled between hundreds of variations. There were billions of possible outcomes, but - click - there was the first mutation. Then, click, another piece of the code changed. The next mutation wasn’t helpful, but neither was it negative. With great luck, changes were taking place in the anchored virus. The code moved to pions in the body, strange proteins that migrated over cell walls. The genes could make the boy’s skin harder or even painful to the touch of the baker. The fabric of the universe could change the hormones of the boy, giving him rage. There were hundreds of possible mutations.
But the Great Curvature had begun. The Multiverse was now powerful in a way not previously seen. It had a direct link to these two humans. It picked the solution which made the most sense: the solution which would produce the most potent emotional response and Rho waves. The Multiverse activated the virus in both individuals. In a matter of seconds, the realigned genes created a change able to act locally. It migrated to cells on the outer area of the face of both individuals.
“Rho waves are created in rare instances, look at this,” said the digital intelligence.
The baker, two years earlier, had lost a son to a disease. The man missed someone desperately who was already so similar to the thief. The modification was minor. The same way the boy was an orphan and missed his father, a large man not unlike the aggressor. Both individuals started feeling a burning sensation in their facial areas. They both stopped and placed their hands over the faces as fat cells changed, and muscles below grew and reshaped. The change took two long minutes. Both were enthralled in their own change and were unable to understand the same level of transformation was taking place feet away. The cartilages and muscles of both visages realigned as if Botox had been released. But the mutations were cell deep. Only four million cells changed. Below their hands, features changed.
“Look has selective your weapon has become,” she spoke in his ear.
Minutes later, as if written by the Great Curvature, when both the baker and the boy looked up at the exact same time, they each saw a ghost. The baker saw his lost son and the boy saw his long lost father. Flooded by a generous flow of Rho waves from mars, they were predisposed to love.
Both humans began to tear up. “My son,” first said the baker.
“Daddy?” replied the other. Who cared at this point about the deception.
Humans need little to believe the incredible. The return of a loved one, even if almost impossible, forewent all upper frontal brain functions and dove to the back of the brain where emotions sleep.
The couple hugged for five full minutes as a generous flow of positive Rho waves were released to the Multiverse. The pair cried.
Marilyn’s game had ended with the child-conqueror-to-be reaching down to his knife and stabbing the aggressor. The ending to this story had been altered by biology and one man’s gift.
Takeda could never have imagined the power of the virus he had created, but he knew life would be improved. The Multiverse was greedy, she wanted energy, and now possessed given a tool to produce it almost instantly. The brains of both individuals created generous Rho waves linked with the return of a long lost parent and child. They could not believe their eyes. Both got up, walked closer to the other, and simply hugged. Both creatures cried and created a bountiful amount of energy and Rho waves that splashed out into the Cold.
Marilyn had changed the world, but the God Virus in the Great Curvature changed the rules that governed it. The Multiverse was finally given what it wanted. The strange coincidences leading to Takeda’s predicament, his regeneration, and his decision to create a virus were not fortuitous.
“You knew the virus would get out?”
“While improbable, it was possible. So yes, I knew you might prevail. I had not planned a visit to the Underworlds but I figured she might take me offline for one reason or another.”
“This was sweet,” he said. “Why use them in the game, just for me?”
“It’s actually more complicated.”