Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

continue for so
long.
    These transactions seemed extraordinary to Futurity, and terribly
difficult to cope with. After all, when he had first gone up to the
orbiting starship, Futurity hadn’t even known this simulacrum of
Michael Poole existed.
    Virtual Poole was the deepest secret of the Ecclesia, his
Hierocrat had said. Indeed, an acolyte as junior as Futurity
shouldn’t be hearing any of this at all, and the Hierocrat made it
clear he blamed Futurity for not resolving the starship situation
without resorting to this: in the Hierocrat’s eyes, Futurity had
failed already.
    It had begun fifteen hundred years ago. It had been an experiment
in theology, epistemology and Virtual technology, an experiment with
roots that reached back to the establishment of the Ecclesia
itself.
    Poole himself knew the background. ’I - or rather, he, Michael
Poole, the real one - has become a messiah figure to you, hasn’t he?
You infinity-botherers and this strange quantum-mechanical faith of
yours. You had theological questions you thought Poole could answer.
Your priests couldn’t dig him up. And so you made him. Or rather, you
made me.’
    Technicians of the ancient Guild of Virtual Idealism had deployed
the most advanced available technology to construct the Virtual
Poole. Everything known about Poole and his life and times had been
downloaded, and where there were gaps in the knowledge - and there
were many - teams of experts, technical, historical and theoretical,
had laboured to extrapolate and interpolate. It had been a remarkable
project, and somewhat expensive: the Hierocrat wouldn’t say how much
it cost, but it seemed the Ecclesia was still paying by
instalments.
    At last all was ready, and that blue tetrahedral chapel had been
built. The Supreme Ecclesiarch had waved her hand - and Michael
Poole, or at least a Michael Poole, had opened his eyes for the first
time in more than twenty thousand years.
    The whole business seemed vaguely heretical to Futurity. But when
Poole popped into existence in the Politely’s observation lounge,
surrounded by the gaping crew and nervous Ecclesiast technicians,
Futurity felt a shiver of wonder.
    Poole seemed to take a second to come to himself, as if coming
into focus. Then he looked down at his body and flexed his fingers.
In the brightness of the deck he seemed oddly out of place, Futurity
thought - not flimsily unreal like most Virtuals, but more opaque,
more dense, like an intrusion from another reality. Poole scanned the
crowd of staring strangers. When he found Futurity’s face he smiled,
and Futurity’s heart warmed helplessly.
    But Poole’s face was dark, intent, determined. For the first time
it occurred to Futurity to wonder what Poole himself might want out
of this situation. He was a Virtual, but he was just as sentient as
Futurity was, and no doubt he had goals of his own. Perhaps he saw
some advantage in this transfer off-world, some angle to be
worked.
    Poole turned and walked briskly to the big blister-window set in
the hull. His head scanned back and forth systematically as he took
in the crowded view. ’So this is the centre of the Galaxy. You damn
priests never even let me see the sky before.’
    ’Not quite the centre. We’re inside the Core here, the Galaxy’s
central bulge.’ Futurity pointed to a wall of light that fenced off
half the sky. ’That’s the Mass - the Central Star Mass, the knot of
density surrounding Chandra, the supermassive black hole at the very
centre.’
    ’Lethe, I don’t know if I imagined people would ever come so far.
And for millennia this has been a war zone?’
    ’The war is over.’ Futurity forced a grin. ’We won!’
    ’And now humans are killing humans again, right? Same old story.’
Poole inspected the surface of the planet below. ’A city-world, ’ he
said dismissively. ’Seen better days.’ He squinted around the sky.
’So where’s the sun?’
    Futurity was puzzled by the question.
    Captain Tahget said, ’Base 478 has no sun. It’s a rogue planet, a
wanderer. Stars are crowded here in the Core, Michael Poole. Not like
out on the rim, where you come from. Close approaches happen all the
time.’
    ’So planets get detached from their suns.’ Poole peered down at
the farms that splashed green amid the concrete. ’No sunlight for
photosynthesis. But if the sky is on fire with Galaxy light, you
don’t need the sun. Different spectrum from Sol’s light, of course,
but I guess they are different plants