changing, dragging him with them. Knowledge expanded exponentially. Mathematical equations doubled in complexity. History and ecology and physics and life science filled his mind at a level he could never hope to contain. His brain separated into fine fibers of being and wove back together with pure energy, creating streamers of facts and consciousness in its wake.
Undulating, swimming lines of thought competed to be first—ideas that became living parts of his being. Each struggled to outpace the other concepts that were also him. An ocean of conscious information overtook him, separate from him and yet the same, other beings and yet all him.
Time and space lost meaning. He was everywhere, unable to define himself by the usual coordinates of life. He struggled to find a rope, an anchor, anything to ground himself in the overwhelming vastness. The desire itself, the exertion of self-will, gave him a point of reference. He was himself; he was what he was. The raging ocean calmed as he floated above it.
Yellow strands of light circled up from the depths, shot past him, and disappeared into the blackness. At first there were just a few, which dodged him easily enough, but more followed. One struck him, lighting up his consciousness. Another followed, then another, until a river of light passed through him and engulfed him. Light that existed beyond his perception of reality. Light with a soul. Light that cared. Light that feared its effect on him.
Terror filled him, though it was not his terror. A streaming membrane spread within the light, covered him, protected him. Then it ejected him from the power that threatened to annihilate him.
* * *
S am shook his head then shook it again. He remembered the Leviathan and recalled his job inside the central core. But where was he now?
His hands grasped at tufts of grass. The smells of flowers and plants he’d only heard of played about his sinuses. Fresh air. Light and warmth. He was dead. He had to be. None of these things would be possible in the place he last remembered.
There’d been something about a coma and merging with a computer—things he could almost remember. It must have killed him. That was the only logical answer. But death sure had a way of feeling like life. His body lifted off the ground, but his muscles ached. How was that possible? Basic human functions of breathing and seeing and feeling all remained.
“Computer? XG? Lud? Anyone out there?” The garbled words hurt his throat. There was no response except the sounds of small animals and plants moving in the light breeze.
Sam sat back down as his legs registered pain from their long stint of inaction. He’d wanted to get off Earth. The space shuttles and the monster that was Leviathan had made him regret that lifelong desire. But this new place held promise. He was like Adam surveying the Garden of Eden. Now, if he could only find Eve.
Sam’s vision of heaven was shattered by the appearance of a middle-aged man in coveralls. “Ah, there you are. We heard we’d be getting a visitor.”
5
S am’s voice came out as croaking, grabbled sounds in no way resembling words. The man put a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. Lev said you’d be pretty groggy. Give it a minute or two for your senses to adjust.”
Sam nodded, unsure of what else he could do. The cold grass under his hands gave him something tangible to focus on. Arching his head up, he slowly focused his blurry eyes on the vines and plants that towered overhead. Above it all, light reflected off the transparent walls. It had to be the agro pod. The smells of plants, the quiet sounds of nature, even the low light conditions of the capsule of Earth so far from the sun quieted his initial fears.
“My name is Dr. Andrew Lane, but everyone calls me Doc. Do you remember your name? Samuel Adamson?” The man looked only slightly worried about what the answer might be.
Again Sam nodded. He knew who he was and knew he’d never met this guy
Undulating, swimming lines of thought competed to be first—ideas that became living parts of his being. Each struggled to outpace the other concepts that were also him. An ocean of conscious information overtook him, separate from him and yet the same, other beings and yet all him.
Time and space lost meaning. He was everywhere, unable to define himself by the usual coordinates of life. He struggled to find a rope, an anchor, anything to ground himself in the overwhelming vastness. The desire itself, the exertion of self-will, gave him a point of reference. He was himself; he was what he was. The raging ocean calmed as he floated above it.
Yellow strands of light circled up from the depths, shot past him, and disappeared into the blackness. At first there were just a few, which dodged him easily enough, but more followed. One struck him, lighting up his consciousness. Another followed, then another, until a river of light passed through him and engulfed him. Light that existed beyond his perception of reality. Light with a soul. Light that cared. Light that feared its effect on him.
Terror filled him, though it was not his terror. A streaming membrane spread within the light, covered him, protected him. Then it ejected him from the power that threatened to annihilate him.
* * *
S am shook his head then shook it again. He remembered the Leviathan and recalled his job inside the central core. But where was he now?
His hands grasped at tufts of grass. The smells of flowers and plants he’d only heard of played about his sinuses. Fresh air. Light and warmth. He was dead. He had to be. None of these things would be possible in the place he last remembered.
There’d been something about a coma and merging with a computer—things he could almost remember. It must have killed him. That was the only logical answer. But death sure had a way of feeling like life. His body lifted off the ground, but his muscles ached. How was that possible? Basic human functions of breathing and seeing and feeling all remained.
“Computer? XG? Lud? Anyone out there?” The garbled words hurt his throat. There was no response except the sounds of small animals and plants moving in the light breeze.
Sam sat back down as his legs registered pain from their long stint of inaction. He’d wanted to get off Earth. The space shuttles and the monster that was Leviathan had made him regret that lifelong desire. But this new place held promise. He was like Adam surveying the Garden of Eden. Now, if he could only find Eve.
Sam’s vision of heaven was shattered by the appearance of a middle-aged man in coveralls. “Ah, there you are. We heard we’d be getting a visitor.”
5
S am’s voice came out as croaking, grabbled sounds in no way resembling words. The man put a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. Lev said you’d be pretty groggy. Give it a minute or two for your senses to adjust.”
Sam nodded, unsure of what else he could do. The cold grass under his hands gave him something tangible to focus on. Arching his head up, he slowly focused his blurry eyes on the vines and plants that towered overhead. Above it all, light reflected off the transparent walls. It had to be the agro pod. The smells of plants, the quiet sounds of nature, even the low light conditions of the capsule of Earth so far from the sun quieted his initial fears.
“My name is Dr. Andrew Lane, but everyone calls me Doc. Do you remember your name? Samuel Adamson?” The man looked only slightly worried about what the answer might be.
Again Sam nodded. He knew who he was and knew he’d never met this guy
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