Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(106)

My mind reels. I feel like a blind man who has seen for the first time. The shock is overwhelming. As a scientist, this is like finding the breakthrough of all time—the answer to the greatest question humanity has ever asked. Our origins. Our destiny. All in one simple answer.

I’m certain now that the harvester is trying to manipulate me, but I also sense that the words it’s telling me are true. Somewhere deep inside, I’ve known it all along. I have known that the universe was more than meets the eye, that there was a process here, a circle of life with no beginning and no end, waiting for us to discover it. I’ve always known that our flesh-and-blood existence was only a temporary state.

In fact, that belief is what landed me in prison.

I have to focus. Why is it telling us this? The obvious reason is that it’s buying time by giving me something I’ve desperately sought my entire life: the ultimate truth of the universe. A validation of my life’s work. And what does it get in return? Time. Trust. But it’s too smart to think this will change our minds. Unless there’s something I don’t appreciate here.

I glance at the clock. Less than four minutes left. Why hasn’t it asked us to stop the drones? There’s something else going on here. I need to drill deeper into its motivations. They’re the key to understanding it.

“Why kill our species?” I ask. “You could’ve talked to us. Negotiated, as you seem willing to do now.”

“Could I? Do you think what’s happening in this solar system hasn’t happened a million times before? Your own history is a guide to what’s happening here. Countless times, your own species has invaded new lands. You’ve displaced other species. Caused mass extinctions. And it’s not limited to the plants and animals of your world. You have murdered and hunted your own people. Forced mass migrations from lands you desired—relocating those deemed less worthy of natural resources you coveted. When a more advanced group of people needed the resources, they took them. We are simply doing what you’ve done to your own people, playing by the same rules.”

“You’re talking about things that happened a long time ago. We’ve put those dark chapters behind us.”

“No. You’ve told yourselves you’re better because your standard of living has allowed you to indulge your moral fantasies. When the Long Winter came, the truth of your existence was again laid bare.”

“We would’ve negotiated with you. If you had reached out. We could’ve come to some understanding.”

“Your supposition is that your species is different from the millions we have encountered before. Again, don’t you think we’ve tried negotiation before? The truth is this: we have built a data set that predicts outcomes in encounters such as these. Yours is a pre-singularity civilization that is unreliable and prone to violence. Our course of action was obvious. You were deemed not to be a threat.”

“Care to revise your assessment?”

For the first time, Art’s avatar smiles.

“Indeed, I have. We missed one anomaly. It was hidden from us, in an ironic twist of fate.”

“An anomaly?”

“You, James.”

I didn’t see that coming. What’s it trying to do?

On the clock, there’s less than three minutes left.

“Me?”

“Our assessment of your species was wrong in one regard: your progress. The truth is, your race had leapt forward, across the singularity chasm… but then took a step back. You, James, are the one who made that breakthrough. You led your people to the future. You showed it to them. And they jailed you for it. They wanted to remain in the past, the way they were. Biological. Thus we never saw that progress. Never saw your true potential. We were unaware that your world housed a mind like yours, far ahead of its time. A mind capable of fighting us. What’s even more surprising is that, in their hour of need, they came to you. And what’s truly surprising? You said yes. You forgave those who persecuted you. You fought for the people who imprisoned you for the simple crime of having the right mind at the wrong time.”

Emma is staring at me. Surely she’s put it together by now—what happened to me.

Art turns its focus to her.

“Ah, yes. Emma, you didn’t know that either. Another secret he’s been terrified to tell you. Afraid of what you might think. Here, I’ll show you.”

On the viewscreen, the image of Art sitting in the library fades, and one of Oscar’s memories begins, one from years ago.

In the video, I’m standing in a hospital room. My father lies in the bed, eyes closed, the machines displaying his weak vitals. Alex and Abby are there beside me, Alex’s arm around me, his other hand holding Abby’s. Owen is there too, looking scared, too young to really appreciate what’s happening. Sarah hasn’t been born yet.

From outside the hospital room, Oscar watches me speaking with Alex and Abby.

“I can save him,” I say.

I’m amazed at how young I looked then. How innocent.

“How?” Alex asks.

“Do you trust me?”

My brother nods. “Of course.”

The memory fades, and Oscar and I are back in my lab. I’m working feverishly on the prototype. Four of my lab assistants are there, working alongside me, around the clock. What I don’t know then is that one of them will betray me.