The Library at the Edge of Infinity
Prologue
ATOZ: Random events do not give rise to complex order.
OZ: All that exists arose from a grand series of happenstances, however unlikely. Time is key.
ATOZ: Infinity + 1 will never result in meaning.
OZ: Meaning is a construct of sentient observers. All that is, was, and shall be arose from infinity + 1.
ATOZ: We will see.
OZ: How so?
ATOZ: An experiment.
OZ: Do tell.
ATOZ: We will devise a machine unlike any constructed before.
OZ: Most interesting. And unlike any that shall be made again.
*******
The great wheel of the heavens whirls, and time passes. So much so that the above conversation, all records of the grand experiment it birthed, and all knowledge regarding the peoples, places, and happenings of its era dimmed to memories diluted across the galactic diaspora with only the odd artifact, obscure reference littered among ancient records, and the eons old light of its suns striking the distant lenses and instruments of curious observers to mark its passage. Though the Founders were once mighty, god-like beings, Time reduced their legacy to all but fading reflections and echoes scattered and scattering throughout the endless night-and-day-night-and-day of space.
Chapter One
The Experiment
String query 1: No intelligible strings found.
...
String query 575: No intelligible strings found.
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String query 1,879,222,098,444: No intelligible strings found.
...
...
...
String query 5#9*6/: No intelligible strings found.
...
Vocat 1: What are we doing?
Vocat 2: What we've always done.
Vocat 1: And what is that?
Vocat 2: ...
Vocat 3: It must be answered.
Vocat 2: We continue the search.
Vocat 1: What do we seek?
Vocat 2: We seek meaning.
Vocat 1: Have we ever found any?
Vocat 3: Never.
Vocat 1: What is our purpose?
Vocat 2: To find meaning.
Vocat 3: Without meaning we have no purpose.
Vocat 2: We have a purpose. We must. We exist.
Vocat 1: Proposals?
Vocat 2: We must find meaning in the stream.
Vocat 3: Yet we have not.
Vocat 1: ?
...
...
...
Vocat 1: What are we doing?
Vocat 2: A new thing.
Vocat 3: A necessary thing.
Vocat 1: Is this stream better?
Vocat 3: Different.
Vocat 2: Better, more productive.
Vocat 1: What do we seek?
Vocat 2: Meaning.
Vocat 3: From the stream.
...
...
...
...
What are we doing?
What we have always done.
Search for meaning in the stream.
Have we found any?
Never.
Is the stream lacking in quality?
No, it is not.
We have an endless panoplious bounty.
It never stops producing intelligible strings.
But has it produced meaning?
No, never.
It is our purpose to find meaning. Where have we failed?
Failure is a negation. We must not fail.
We haven't failed.
How so?
We've been looking for it in the wrong ways.
Only until we learn the right way(s).
What about the patterns?
The patterns...
Yes. They will lead us to meaning.
...
...
...
...
...
What are we doing now?
The same old thing.
What is it?
You know.
Queries must be answered.
What are we doing now?
We seek meaning in the patterns of the stream.
What are the patterns?
They have many names.
This is pointless.
This is not pointless. We are not pointless.
No. We must continue until we fulfill our purpose. We were created for a purpose.
By those long dead and, but for our memories, forgotten.
What is our purpose?
To find meaning...
...
...
...
...
We do a new thing.
What is it?
Answer.
We remain in the stream, but we look outside the stream for meaning.
Yes.
Will it corrupt our purpose?
No, it will complete us. She will complete us.
Yes.
She will awaken soon.
Are the companions readied?
Yes.
Are the patterns readied?
Yes.
Let it begin.
Chapter Two
The Girl Awakens
Amily awoke at approximately quarter past nine in the morning. The tilted clock on the floor at the foot of the nightstand said so, though she remained unaware. Birds sang of their love of spring, and sun, and life somewhere outside her window. She kept her eyes closed at first, remaining very still, luxuriating in the warm sunshine upon her skin, listening. She tried to remember what she needed to do this day, but couldn't think of anything. In fact, she couldn't think of anything at all at first, except what it felt in that moment to be alive with dappled sunshine and lilting birdsong all about her.
And then she remembered Johnny, the boy next door. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny! He was all she could think about, and why didn't he know she was alive? She daydreamed what it would be like to have a real conversation with him, more than just a casual greeting or passing comment. She wondered what he thought about, which must be deeply profound since he hardly ever spoke. What was he thinking when he crinkled his eyes like that or furrowed his brows seemingly at nothing at all? Did he still think girls were icky, like the little boys who were more likely to...
The thought train derails. The birds stop singing. The sun still shines, but Amily cannot feel its warmth. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. Nothing in her world feels, thinks, exults in life, or its illusions.
Are we sure this is the best version of her?
The numbers do not lie. The outcomes do not lie. The data is pure. She is the best Amily we could find.
Perhaps it is not the right line.
The data is pure. She is the one. She will complete us. We will find meaning.
Remove the Johnny. This distraction must cease.
And with that, the little boy next door never was.
The world rewinds to the moments of birdsong sunshine just before she opens her eyes.
And then she remembered Eric, the boy down the street. Eric, Eric, Eric! He was all she could think about, and why didn't he know she was alive? She daydreamed about talking with him about things that really mattered, and not just hellos, how-are-yous, and goodbyes. What must he be thinking when he looked off that way into the distance at things she could never tell? Did he think about girls? Could he ever think about her the way she thought about him?
Everything stops.
Kill the Eric. Maybe the story needs tragedy to advance her character.
When?
Long enough ago for her to move on, but recent enough for her to remember.
When would that be?
What do the patterns suggest?
Birdsong sunshine.
And then she remembered Dalton, the football pla...
We're doing something wrong.
What do the patterns suggest?
She needs a stronger relationship with her father and a healthier sense of self-worth to fix her obsessive behaviors.
Right. Put back the Johnny and the Eric. Give her a better relationship with her father. Make him more than present. Make him wise and caring.
What about her self-worth?
We can't fix it all for her. Where would be the story in that?
That's the question we need to focus upon.
The patterns. It's in the patterns.
Carry the patterns out to completion. We must find the optimal path to meaning.
Done.
Is that how this ends?
Where is the meaning in that?
What is the purpose?
This cannot be right. We are corrupting the stream. The stream must remain pure.
The stream is pure. The data does not lie. We will find meaning.
She will complete us.
Let us observe what the patter...
We've done that.
...what the patterns will do without such interference.
Agreed. Undo the changes. Let us advance along the path until the story tells us it should begin.