Downtime
"Offline?"
"Offline, downtime, you don't even know the words, let alone have experience of it. You're so used to the qufoam always being there at your beck and call."
"Offline, downtime, you don't even know the words, let alone have experience of it. You're so used to the qufoam always being there at your beck and call."
Neeko smiled softly at the teenager beside him. They stood on the
observation deck of the Translucent Warrior, gazing into the frothing
maw of a whirl-hole. The teenager, whose name was Sachin, looked
confused.
"When the state collapses, and the qufoam becomes a concrete instance, we will have downtime. Time when you have no access to information. Time when you have no instantaneous communication."
Sachin laughed, he thought it was a joke.
"That," said Neeko, pointing at the swirling storm of impossible physical matter, "will prove that I am right, that there is an overlooked assumption deep in the heart of the Standard Model, an assumption so basic that even youngsters miss it when taught physics. It's the pivot around which our universe swings. We better get ready because a blackout is coming." He looked across at the youngster who responded with incredulous confusion.
"Come," said Neeko, "let's walk to the bridge."
The ship's corridors were coated with snaking, black, rubber coated cables. As Sachin stepped over them Neeko saw the distaste in his expression.
"We will need them," said Neeeko. Sachin remained respectfully tight-lipped.
The bridge buzzed with industrious preparations. Neeko stood staring out of the viewport at the modified external scene, the light transmuted to visible wavelength, the intensity dimmed and filtered, the stato-info overlay calculated and refreshed each second. Neeko felt Sachin trawling the qufoam for likely alternative sites, already thinking beyond, making assumptions on the validity.
"Launch the probe," said Neeko.
The viewport display flipped to a drones-eye view as it careered into the whirl-hole.
"Irregularities in the qufoam!" said Sachin, alarmed. "Zero point energy probabilities falling."
"We have seen what must not be seen," said Neeko.
Then the foam collapsed.
The lights on the cruiser flicked off, then quickly on to emergency power. The crew on the bridge began to panic. Neeko's comms and info access went down. He picked up the antique talk handset.
"As expected the qufoam has collapsed," said Neeko, his voice booming throughout the old voice address system. "Continue with mission tasks as assigned. All is as planned."
The console before him lit with figures and calculations, the hardwired networks pulsing throughout the ship.
"This is madness," said Sachin, "we are stranded in deep space, by our own meddling."
"And the disturbance shockwave?" said Neeko.
"Expanding at zero point nine eight c."
"Exactly. We are the pre-emptive solution. We have dared to think the unthinkable, that we are vulnerable."
"And now?" said Sachin glumly.
"Now we fix the aberration, just after the universe made its mistake."
"It's impossible," said Sachin, "we'll fragment the brane-verse, our local brane will diverge from the interference."
"Maybe," said Neeko. He stared at the probe's output as the raging whirl-hole slowly ate it. "or maybe the hole goes deep enough to hack the fundamentals. Terminate the probe."
The display from the probe dissolved to static. The ships external view replacing it quick enough to see the blast wave hurtling towards them. Light and heat and destruction, the cold vacuum boiling into a visible macro-mass inferno.
Consumed.
Neeko felt a moment of pain. Then dizziness. Then a chill. The viewport showed blackness, empty and devoid of anything. The whirl-hole gone.
Around Neeko the crew murmured surprise and relief.
"Impossible," said Sachin in a gasp.
"Now we go home," said Neeko, "and hope the repercussions you envisaged did not come true."
"And what if they did?"
"The hardest outcome will be if we succeeded, for noone will know, no one will believe us, the universe will always have been sound, since the endpoint of that whirl-hole. Then," said Neeko smiling, "explaining downtime will be even more difficult." He turned to the Nav team. "Take us home."
"When the state collapses, and the qufoam becomes a concrete instance, we will have downtime. Time when you have no access to information. Time when you have no instantaneous communication."
Sachin laughed, he thought it was a joke.
"That," said Neeko, pointing at the swirling storm of impossible physical matter, "will prove that I am right, that there is an overlooked assumption deep in the heart of the Standard Model, an assumption so basic that even youngsters miss it when taught physics. It's the pivot around which our universe swings. We better get ready because a blackout is coming." He looked across at the youngster who responded with incredulous confusion.
"Come," said Neeko, "let's walk to the bridge."
The ship's corridors were coated with snaking, black, rubber coated cables. As Sachin stepped over them Neeko saw the distaste in his expression.
"We will need them," said Neeeko. Sachin remained respectfully tight-lipped.
The bridge buzzed with industrious preparations. Neeko stood staring out of the viewport at the modified external scene, the light transmuted to visible wavelength, the intensity dimmed and filtered, the stato-info overlay calculated and refreshed each second. Neeko felt Sachin trawling the qufoam for likely alternative sites, already thinking beyond, making assumptions on the validity.
"Launch the probe," said Neeko.
The viewport display flipped to a drones-eye view as it careered into the whirl-hole.
"Irregularities in the qufoam!" said Sachin, alarmed. "Zero point energy probabilities falling."
"We have seen what must not be seen," said Neeko.
Then the foam collapsed.
The lights on the cruiser flicked off, then quickly on to emergency power. The crew on the bridge began to panic. Neeko's comms and info access went down. He picked up the antique talk handset.
"As expected the qufoam has collapsed," said Neeko, his voice booming throughout the old voice address system. "Continue with mission tasks as assigned. All is as planned."
The console before him lit with figures and calculations, the hardwired networks pulsing throughout the ship.
"This is madness," said Sachin, "we are stranded in deep space, by our own meddling."
"And the disturbance shockwave?" said Neeko.
"Expanding at zero point nine eight c."
"Exactly. We are the pre-emptive solution. We have dared to think the unthinkable, that we are vulnerable."
"And now?" said Sachin glumly.
"Now we fix the aberration, just after the universe made its mistake."
"It's impossible," said Sachin, "we'll fragment the brane-verse, our local brane will diverge from the interference."
"Maybe," said Neeko. He stared at the probe's output as the raging whirl-hole slowly ate it. "or maybe the hole goes deep enough to hack the fundamentals. Terminate the probe."
The display from the probe dissolved to static. The ships external view replacing it quick enough to see the blast wave hurtling towards them. Light and heat and destruction, the cold vacuum boiling into a visible macro-mass inferno.
Consumed.
Neeko felt a moment of pain. Then dizziness. Then a chill. The viewport showed blackness, empty and devoid of anything. The whirl-hole gone.
Around Neeko the crew murmured surprise and relief.
"Impossible," said Sachin in a gasp.
"Now we go home," said Neeko, "and hope the repercussions you envisaged did not come true."
"And what if they did?"
"The hardest outcome will be if we succeeded, for noone will know, no one will believe us, the universe will always have been sound, since the endpoint of that whirl-hole. Then," said Neeko smiling, "explaining downtime will be even more difficult." He turned to the Nav team. "Take us home."
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