Debatable Space (11 page)

But since all the Universe originated in a single near-infinitesimal singularity – in its pre-Big Bang golden idyll – every
part of the Universe was at this very earliest moment entangled with every other part. And that connection persists, despite
the subsequent expansion of the Universe. It’s like twins separated at birth and raised in different countries, who remain
empathetically or even telepathically connected.

And so quantum theory allows an amazing loophole to the law that says nothing can travel faster than light. The exception
says that i
nformation
can be conveyed instantaneously, whatever the distance involved, if it’s information about a quantum state between two previously
entangled quanta.

But to get any value out of this hallowed principle of physics, you have to be able to manipulate the quantum states on both
sides. Not by much. You just need the difference between Quantum State A and Quantum State B. Which is the difference between
0 and 1. Which of course is the basis for a long-distance digitised computer connection, capable of communicating information
instantaneously.

And so, once you have your two quantum state controllers in place… distances vanish. An email sent in Australia will
reach Africa
the very instant it is sent
. It won’t be quick, it won’t be fast; there won’t even be a millisecond of time elapsing.
It will be instant
. And so it becomes as easy to send an email from Australia to Africa as it is to send one from London to
the other end of the galaxy
.

And thus, as a result of these discoveries, the Universal Web becomes possible. Video phone calls can be made between planets,
without even a momentary delay. And all this is made possible by the “quantum state manipulation nano-computers” which were
christened, by me, Quantum Beacons.

The snag is that there’s a huge amount of work involved in setting up this means of communication. The near Beacon is always
on Earth or in the Earth system, but the distant Beacons have to be literally flown through physical space to the desired
remote location. In a metaphorical nutshell; the telephone wire has to be hooked up at
both ends
.

I was, I have to admit, one of the first to realise the great value and potential of all the decades of difficult theorising
into the field of quantum communication. And I believe that the construction of Heimdall was the greatest accomplishment of
my Presidency, tarnished only by the memory that the scientists and the explorers were given all the credit, whereas my role
was… sorry, sorry, I should move on.

To continue:

In order to create Heimdall, a fleet of spacecraft was built. (This was before my time, I concede.) Each ship was massive,
and constructed with total redundancy. Nanocomputers were installed to do the work; but every system had a backup, every backup
had a backup. And each ship was crewed by five hundred potential space colonists, with a cargo of human sperm and every conceivable
seed and animal embryo in deep store.

The first vessel in the fleet was called the
Mayflower
. Tragically, all five hundred crew members died in deep space, after a collision with a dark-matter tornado. This was a phenomenon
we hadn’t even known about until it killed the world’s finest men and women. The names of those five hundred are engraved
in a plaque in New York Plaza, and in my heart. And in the history books.

But even though the crew was dead, the computers carried on sailing the spaceship. On and on it went on its long journey.
Using state-of-the-art fusion engines, it could reach speeds of almost two-thirds light speed.

After fifty years the
Mayflower
stopped. Its cargo of human embryos was unfrozen and carefully grown by robot nannies. Seeds were germinated and planted.
A Quantum Beacon was built by the pre-programmed robots and nanobots. And, once it was installed, instantaneous messages could
be transmitted between the
Mayflower
in its new home, and Earth.

And after that, vidphone and webcam links were created. Robots were then remotely built in humanoid form, complete with touch
and olfactory sub-programs. We could now see everything the robots could see, and feel what they felt, the moment that they
saw or felt it. Which means:
It’s as if we were there ourselves
. Suddenly, space had shrunk… with the help of virtual technology, a citizen of Earth could find him or her self on an
alien planet.

This first Quantum Beacon planet orbited a star which I named Asgard, after the home of the Norse Gods. And the virtual link
that connected us was called Heimdall, after the Rainbow Bridge that connected Asgard with Earth.

And meanwhile, all the time, other colony ships were landing. Other Beacons were being built. And the map of space was filled
with the dots of human settlements . . .

It took four hundred years for Heimdall to become the masterpiece it now is. Quantum Beacons are dotted across all of known
space, and the virtual Rainbow Bridge that is Heimdall allows instant communications between all the regions of humanity.

And, all those years ago, actual control of the first space colonies was literally in my hands, and in my eyes. With the help
of a virtual bodysuit connected to robot bodies on the colony planets, I could walk on alien soil. I could move tractors across
arid plains. I could choose the music that played on the colony’s intercom, I could devise menus for the children who I was
growing there. I could do anything!

My focus in those early years was almost exclusively on the colonists of the Asgard star system. I named their planet Hope,
and it became my joy. I studied them, and encouraged them, and help shape their society.

But I was at pains to be sure that the new colonists did not ever become resentful of their “master” in a faraway land. The
settlers of Hope were my children, not my slaves. I became the perfect parent; all-seeing, all-protective, indulgent, and
immune to insult.

And much to my delight, the new colony of Hope turned into a wild and dangerous place. It was the first civilisation in human
history to have only one generation, grown from embryo by robots with unerring care. All the babies were babies together;
they all went to kindergarten together; and they all graduated to primary school level together. And then they became teenagers
together; they were thirteen together, they were fourteen together, they were fifteen together.

And thus, the children grew into adulthood. Every inhabitant of the new colony had the same birthday, the same emotional and
mental age. And, knowing that the Quantum Beacon was a constant source of information and wealth, a virtual safety net, they
ran riot together.

For five whole years the colony of Hope was a drug and sex and rock and roll Utopia. No useful work was done. Wild oats were
sowed. The “accelerated maturity” process became a joke, as the colonists spent the years between fifteen and twenty either
stoned or drunk or delirious with sex.

Well, good luck to them I thought. I myself, I must concede, had the dullest-ever teenagerdom. So, by proxy, I was now sowing
my own wild oats. Through vidcam and virtual-reality links, I followed the lives of my children, I watched them get spaced
out, I watched them fuck, I watched some of them play suicide games that tragically ended their infinitely promising lives.
I watched, but I didn’t meddle. I merely waited until my children grew into maturity.

And then I gave them independence. With independence came power; with power came a sense of responsibility. We still kept,
through our robots and virtual-control programs, a grip on the mineral and energy wealth of the new colony. Solar panels orbiting
Hope’s sun pulsed energy that fuelled its space factories and telescopes. And spaceships travelling down the Beacon’s path
carried valuable raw materials back to Earth on a regular basis; the first cargoes took sixty years to arrive, but after than,
a cargo ship arrived every three months . All this allowed us to run an Empire with infinite resources, infinite power.

On Earth, we had everything we could possibly desire. So why be greedy? Why dominate, why control, why bully? Why not let
the children of Hope have their total freedom?

Why not?

Why fucking not?

“There she is, five sectors off our port bow.”

“I see her.”

“She looks ripe, Cap’n.”

“Fire the flag.”

We shoot a flare into space. It unfurls and creates a holographic skull and crossbones. Our way of saying: let’s do this the
easy way, guys,
or else
.

The merchant ship begins to tack. At the same time, a flotilla of missiles is dispatched towards us.

“Fire the microwarships.”

We fire a cluster of metal ants into space, creating a wall of chaff that sends relentless interference patterns into the
path of the missiles’ guidance systems. One by one the enemy missiles explode, well short of our ship.

“Prepare to engage the grapples.”

“We’re prepared,” says Brandon.

“Well fucking well engage them then.”

“We’re too far away.”

“Ah.”

“I’m ready to accelerate into position, Cap’n, if you’re minded to give that command.”

“I took it as read. Accelerate into position, Harry.”

“Aye aye Cap’n.”

We accelerate into position.

“You humansss should sssuit up, perhaps?”

“Indeed. Suit up, people.”

“Your leadership leaves a great deal to be desired Cap’n.”

“Less of the insubordination or I’ll clap you in irons.”

“Ironssssss?”

“Fire our warning shot.”

Harry fires a missile. It ploughs straight through the debris of their wrecked missile defence systems, and crashes through
the bow of the merchant ship.

“
That
was a warning shot?”

“It must have been caught by the wind,” Kalen says, snidely.

“Engage grapples.”

Two roboships are sent hurtling from our main vessel and they land with an inaudible smash on the surface of the merchant
ship. The magno-grapples are switched on automatically, pinning them against the hull, and they then engage with reverse polarity
the magnets on our ship. Thus, the merchant ship is locked solidly on to us, unable to move.

A sealed polytunnel unfurls along the length of the magnetic arm that links ship to ship. We are all swiftly suiting up, apart
from Alby, who merely flares a little more vividly.

Jamie stays on the bridge, ordering up doughnuts and Coke from the ship’s dispenser, as my pirate crew assembles and enters
the airlock.

We are swept downwards along an invisible magnetic tunnel. We use blasters to crack open the hull. And then we are inside.

Robot guns fire at us as we come rolling through. Alliea has an eagle eye for such devices and pops them with lightning-fast
laser blasts as we all run. Bullets rain on my body armour but none penetrate. We blow up a connecting door and emerge to
find suited beetles preparing to shoot us.

Before they can fire Alliea leaps up and sweeps a nanonet over them, stifling their air supply, coating them with a spider’s-web
lattice of diamond-hard fibre. Then she yanks and tugs and knocks them off balance. At the same time, Harry and I are blasting
them with stun and flare blasts. We duck and weave away from bullets, capitalising on the fact that these security warriors
are trained to shoot accurately, not fast, and don’t know how to move their guns into position in the blink of an eye. Their
every shot is telegraphed, and we duck and roll and effortlessly avoid their fusillades. Then I plunge needles through black
body armour and feel the humans inside slump into unconsciousness.

We enter the bridge. The rest of the crew surrenders to us. Only the Captain is defiant. I lay down my blaster, and courteously
beg him to give up and unlock the ship’s security network. He refuses, and before he has finished his sentence, I have spring-loaded
the scimitar I wear strapped to my thigh, then I unpop its blade and swipe.

His head falls from his shoulders. The crew are entirely stunned. I pick up the head and brandish it before them. Living proof
that I am a barbarian.

For I
am
a barbarian.

Only one other crew member possesses the code to unlock the ship’s security lattice, liberating all the treasures of that
cargo. The identity of that crew member is a dark and deeply kept secret. So I lop off the purser’s head. Two heads, two deaths,
and the rest follows easily. The crew key-holder surrenders himself, the cargo is unlocked.

We have our treasure. Wooden furniture, carved metal artworks, electronics, flyboards, and designer clothing. Worthless to
us, but worth a small fortune when we sell it back to the manufacturers.

I exalt. I triumph.

And I feel the taste of blood in my nostrils and my pulse surges.

On my cabin cctv, I watch the progress of the battle. I stare with horror as I see Flanagan behead two people.

Who is this man?

I feel contempt and rage for him. After what they did to me, I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am. And I give myself a silent
warning: I must never, ever, trust these evil bastards. Flanagan and his pirates are strangers to humanity; they have embraced
a creed of total ruthlessness.

I hate them, and I fear them.

I am afraid.

“You’re very quiet, Lena.”

“I’m savouring my food.”

“It’s fresh
foie gras
. We found a case of it in the cargo hold.”

“You killed all those people. For foie gras?”

“It’s a Corporation merchant ship. It’s fair game. Don’t glare at me like that, Lena, it’s…”

“Whatever you say, Captain Flanagan. There, I’m looking at you nicely now.”

“You hate me, don’t you?”

“For what you have done, you have forfeited your right to life.”

“Ah, phooey.”

She eats. I hide my grin.

Yes, I’m a barbarian. At least she knows now.