The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(113)
David held his hand up. “Okay, you got me. I give. I have no idea what a quantum entity is.”
“Are you familiar with quantum entanglement?”
“Uh, no.”
“Very well. Let me just say that we discovered that all humans are linked through the quantum entity. Some members of our society with an especially strong connection can even use the link to communicate over distances.”
David’s mind flashed to the dreams he’d shared with Kate.
“You find this hard to believe, Mr. Vale?”
“No. Actually, I do believe it. Go on.”
“We call this quantum entity that links all humans the Origin Entity. Investigating its creation, our creation, is our great work. We call it ‘The Origin Mystery.’ We believe the Origin Entity exerts influence over the entire universe, that it is both the origin point and the final destination for human consciousness.”
Milo nodded. “This is the creation story you gave us.”
“Yes,” Janus said. “Your minds had advanced so far, so quickly. You craved answers, in particular about your existence. We gave you the only answers we had, though we modified them so that you might understand them. And we gave you our code—a moral blueprint: practices that we have found bring us closer to the Origin Entity, practices we have found enhance the link, tying humans closer to each other and the harmony the Origin Entity offers. We also emphasized that every human life is valuable; every human is connected to the Origin Entity and could reveal more about the mystery.” Janus paused. “Much of our message has been lost over the ages, however.”
“Some still believe,” Milo said.
“Yes, clearly. Ultimately, our mission here has failed, but it began with such promise. In all the years of our investigations of the Origin Mystery, we had never seen a species like yours. We monitor all the human worlds. As a historian, you will appreciate this, Mr. Vale. On this planet, a relatively minor geological event three and a half million years ago caused a cataclysm that directly led to the emergence of humanity. Three and a half million years ago, the collision of two tectonic plates elevated the seafloor of what is now the western Caribbean, forming the Isthmus of Panama. For the first time, the Atlantic and Pacific were separated, preventing the large-scale mixing of their waters. This set off a chain reaction that led to an ice age on this planet, which it’s still in. In West Africa, the jungles began to shrink. A number of species of higher-order primates lived in the trees there during this period. In the following years, savannas gradually replaced the lush jungles, driving those primates down from the trees and onto the grasslands. The sources of their vegetarian diet were largely gone. Many perished, but a small group took another path: they adapted. They ventured out onto the vast plains and began hunting new sources of food. For the first time, they ate meat, and it changed their brains. So did hunting. These primates, these prehistoric survivalists, grew smarter than any primates before them. They eventually made primitive stone tools and hunted in packs. This pattern—of climate disruption, of near-extinction in a rapidly changing environment, and then rebound, of adapting—would come to be the hallmark pattern that repeats itself over and over again during your species’ march to its current state. We came here to study you when you were still in your infancy, hoping a species with such a meteoric rise, evolutionarily speaking, could reveal something new about the Origin Mystery.
“We followed all of our usual precautions. We deployed a Beacon that followed the planet’s orbit.”
“A beacon?”
“A shroud—to keep anyone from seeing your development and to keep you from seeing any other human worlds. What you call the Fermi Paradox—the fact that human worlds must be abundant, yet you have found none—is actually a result of the Beacon. It filters the light you can see, and the light your world emits to anyone outside the shroud. We also followed all the other procedures. We buried our ship—”
“In Antarctica?” David asked.
“No. That’s a different ship. I’ll explain momentarily. We typically hide our deep-space vessel in a local asteroid belt or, in this case, a moon—for added security, just in case a probe gets by the Beacon. The universe is a dangerous place, and we have no desire to call attention to our subjects or ourselves. We deployed our lander to the surface and remained here. Our routine remained the same after that, just as it was on other planets: we collected samples, analyzed our results, and hibernated, awakening only at regular intervals to repeat our process. However, one hundred thousand years ago, we were awakened early by a distress call. Our home world was under attack. Another message followed shortly after. Our world had fallen in a day and a night to an enemy of unimaginable strength. We were instructed to remain on a shrouded world for our own safety. We believed that our enemy would hunt any remaining Atlanteans to the end of the universe. Our fear was that the Armageddon would extend to all humans, across all human worlds. The next event you know well. Seventy thousand years ago, a supervolcano in present-day Indonesia erupted, spewing ash into the sky and causing a volcanic winter that brought your species to the brink of extinction. The population alarms awoke my partner and me from hibernation. It was our greatest fear. We thought that we could be the last of our species: two scientists who could never go home. And we were watching what could be the extinction of some of the last humans our enemy had not yet found. So my partner made a fateful decision.”