Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(108)

When the memories have finished, Art returns to the screen, still sitting in the library.

“If we had detected the presence of what you created, James, we would have indeed made contact. We would’ve offered to share the energy we harvested from your sun. You would have been offered the chance to join the grid. Indeed, that is the path your father would’ve traveled. That is the path that you discovered, that you took the first step toward. As I said before, it is the destiny of all life in the universe.

“Biology is shaped by its environment. Life is dictated by the local planet upon which it evolves, but the long arc of all life in the universe is determined by the universal constants. We are the end of that arc. Your destiny.

“I’m offering you a chance to join us. I’m offering you a chance to make the right decision for your people. The decision your people should have made when you showed them the future. Now that decision is in your hands, James. I knew when I read Oscar’s memories that you were someone I could reason with. You are a mind far ahead of your time. I’m offering you the chance to save your species. Do what they couldn’t: make the right decision. Take the leap into the future. Choose life over war.”

I study James, looking for any indication of what he’s thinking.

“What specifically are you offering us?” James asks without looking up. He keeps studying the virus scan.

“Peace.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

On the screen, Art leans back in the chair.

“The solar array around your sun will move. The Long Winter, as you have dubbed it, will end. Earth will return to the climate it enjoyed when I first arrived. But only for a time. In that time, you will be required to reinitiate the singularity that you created. You will transcend biology, thus freeing your race from the chains of time and biology—and the tyranny of the climate of your planet. You will be free. Your existence will require only energy. Which we can provide. You will join us in the grid, and you will discover an existence far richer than anything you can imagine.”

“That’s what you’re offering us. But what are you asking from us?”

“Collaboration. First, you will disable the attack drones currently inbound to my position. As you have surmised, I am unable to stop them physically. Your plan, as expected, is brilliant, James. The drones have no broadcast weaknesses. I can’t infiltrate them with a virus. But you will disable them, and then you will set about rebuilding me. You have that capability. I do not.

“In return, I will provide technological instruction that will enable you to reach heights you can only dream of—and to overcome any opposition to the singularity. In short, this time, James, you will be in charge, thanks to the technology I can provide and that you can easily build. The grid is your destiny. It’s a place where time has no meaning. This universe will be your playground. You will be gods.”

James turns and looks me in the eye. What’s he thinking? I’d give anything to know right now. I’m so confused myself.

The harvester has killed billions of our people. It killed my crew on the ISS. It has tried to murder me and James countless times. Can it be trusted? Is this a trap?

The drones will hit the surface of Ceres in less than a minute.

Time seems to stand still.

Only the clock is a reminder.

The decision being put to James is unimaginable. A single question that will change human history forever. And he seems to be considering it.

“How do we know you’ll keep your word?” James doesn’t look up. He just keeps studying the virus scan, perhaps searching for confirmation that the harvester is lying.

“You know it because you understand me, James. Everything I do is dictated by logic. I care only for the expansion of the grid. Before, I didn’t realize your species was capable of joining the grid. I was sent here for a single mission: to harvest the energy with the lowest possible expenditure. That’s what I’m proposing now.”

Forty seconds left.

“And if we say no?”

“You will sentence your people to death. You will not receive an offer like this from the next ‘harvester,’ as you call it. As I said before, I’m low on the totem pole. I’m sent to solar systems that have very limited defensive capabilities. Primitive systems. Again, we misjudged you. It’s happened before. It’s easily remedied—now. But when I don’t reply to the grid’s periodic ping, the situation in this system will be escalated. A follow-up harvester will be sent, one with extensive offensive capabilities. You will be wiped out. That is a certainty.”

James studies the screen, his eyes darting left and right as if he’s processing.

Thirty seconds left.

Finally, he looks up at Art, and smiles.

“Before, when you arrived at the system, and did your assessment, you screwed up, didn’t you?”

Art nods carefully. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“You didn’t factor in an anomaly,” James says. “Me.”

“Yes.” Art draws the word out.

“Do you think maybe you’ve made the same mistake?”

Twenty seconds left.

Art cocks his head. “I haven’t—”

“Maybe you still don’t understand us. Or the anomaly. That’s what makes us different. As you’ve noted, we are not a perfect species. We wiped out countless other inhabitants of our planet. We’ve displaced our own people in the name of progress. We’ve warred with each other. We are guilty of crimes. But we are also a species that has proven it can learn from its mistakes. And I’m no different. Before, my mistake was not considering my fellow man. Not looking at the world from their eyes, only seeing it from my own, and my vision of the future. I won’t make the same mistake.”