Most of these sketches died as quickly as they were formed. But as the networks of interactions grew in complexity, another kind of phase shift was reached, a threshold beyond which certain closed loops of interactions emerged — loops which promoted the growth of other structures like themselves. This was autocatalysis, the tendency for a structure emerging from a richly connected network to encourage the growth of itself, or copies of itself. And some of these loops happened to be stable, immune to small perturbations. This was homeostasis, stability through feedback.
Thus, through autocatalysis and homeostasis working on the flaws of the young spacetime, an increasingly complex hierarchy of self-sustaining structures emerged. All these tangled knots were machines, fundamentally, heat engines feeding off the flow of energy through the universe. And the black holes, drifting through this churning soup, provided additional points of structure, seeds around which the little cycling structures could concentrate. In the new possibilities opened up by closeness, still more complex aggregates grew: simple machines gathered into cooperative “cells,” and the cells gathered into colonial “organisms” and ultimately multicelled “creatures"…
It was, of course, life. All this had emerged from nothing.
In this universe it would always be this way: structures spontaneously complexified, and stability emerged from fundamental properties of the networks — any networks, even such exotica as networks of intersecting spacetime defects. Order emerging for free: it was wonderful. But it need not have been this way.
Deep in the pinprick gravity wells of the primordial black holes, the feeding began.
Chapter 38
When Squadron Leader Pirius Red went back to the barracks, with his new officer’s epaulettes stitched to his uniform, he walked into a silent storm of resentment and contempt. After a few minutes he ducked into a lavatory block and ripped his epaulettes off his shoulders.
The new squadron leader spent twenty-four hours paralyzed by uncertainty and indecision. He had no real idea where to start.
Nilis called Pirius to his cluttered room in Officer Country.
When he got there, the Commissary, irritated and distracted, was working at a low table piled with data desks, while abstract Virtuals swirled around him like birds. He seemed to be pursuing his studies of Chandra. There was nowhere to sit but on Nilis’s blanket-strewn, unmade bed. There was a faint smell of damp and mustiness — it was the smell of Nilis, Pirius thought with exasperated fondness, a smell of feet and armpits, the smell of a gardener.
Pila was here, to Pirius’s surprise. Minister Gramm’s assistant, slender and elegant, looked somehow insulated from Nilis’s clutter. Her skin shone with a cold beauty, and her robe of purple-stitched black fell in precise folds around her slim, sexless body. She didn’t acknowledge Pirius at all.
Nilis clapped his hands, and his Virtuals crumpled up and disappeared. “Fascinating, fascinating. I am studying Chandra’s central singularity now, what we can tell of it through the external features of the event horizon and the surrounding spacetime. Even there, deep in the heart of the black hole, there is structure. That thing at the center of the Galaxy, you know, is like an onion; just when you’ve peeled away one layer, well, my eyes, all you find is another layer underneath, another layer of astrophysics and life and meaning — quite remarkable — I wonder if we’ll ever get to the bottom of it.”
Pirius didn’t know what an onion was, and couldn’t comment. But he could see Nilis was restless. “You seem unhappy, Commissary.”
Nilis said ruefully, “Perceptive as ever, Pirius! But it’s true. I am frustrated. I thought I would make fast progress with this work here at Arches, now that I am so close to the object of my study. But suddenly it has become much more difficult. I’m being denied access to records. When I do track down an archive I find it’s been emptied or moved — I’m even short on processing power to analyze it!” He shook his head. “I try not to be paranoid, any more than any citizen of our wonderful Coalition has a right to be. In Sol system I was given assistance with my studies. Now it feels as if I am being impeded at every step! But if it’s purposeful, what I don’t see is why — and who is trying to block me.”
Pila said, with her usual cold sarcasm, “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your absorbing work, Commissary. But you called us here.”
“Quite so, quite so.” He took a sip from some tepid drink that had been standing so long on the table it had dust on its surface. “Let’s get on, then. I wondered how the new squadron is doing. What are your priorities, Pirius?”
That was easy. “We have to assemble the hardware and the crews. Then we will run two parallel programs: technical development, to get the new equipment fitted to the ships and make them combat-worthy, and training, to get the crews ready to fly the mission.”
“Good, good; nobody would argue with that. But time is short. What actual progress have you made?”
“I’m proud to have been given this commission, sir…”
The Commissary’s sharp, moist eyes were on him, and Nilis clearly noticed the patches where Pirius had ripped off his epaulettes. “You haven’t actually got anywhere, have you, Squadron Leader?”
“He is overpromoted,” Pila said coldly.
“No,” Nilis said. “This is a battlefield promotion. Needs must, madam. Pirius is right for the job, I’m convinced of it. I’ve seen his work in two different timelines! But where he lacks experience, we must find ways to help him.”
Pila looked at him suspiciously. “Which is where I come in, is it? I think you’d better get to the point, Commissary.”
Nilis turned to Pirius. “Pilot, have you selected your adjutant yet? Every squadron leader needs one.”
Pirius felt even more out of his depth. “I’m not even sure what an adjutant does, sir.”
Nilis laughed. “Of course not. Which is why your choice is particularly important. Your adjutant is your key member of staff. She is your personal assistant, if you like. She is responsible for the day- to-day running of your squadron, leaving you to concentrate on the flying. She drafts your orders, filters demands on your time, and ensures you get the resources you need, everything from GUTdrive parts to ration packs. You see? Now, have you any thoughts?”
Pirius shrugged. “Torec, perhaps—”
Nilis said gently, “Torec is a fine woman, a warrior, and a close companion. But she doesn’t have the skills — the political, the administrative — that you’re going to need now.”
Pirius suddenly saw where this was going.
Pila’s face was extraordinary; Pirius would never have imagined that so much anger and contempt could be expressed with such stillness. She said, “Are you joking, Commissary? Me?”
“Joking? Not at all,” Nilis said breezily. “Think about it for a moment. The job won’t be so terribly different from what you do for Gramm. You undoubtedly have the administrative skills. And with your, umm, strong personality you will cut like a blade through the buffoonery and obstructionism of the various turf warriors here at the Base. You could even pull levers at the Ministry of Economic Warfare if you have to. Besides, as one of the party who came with me from Earth, you understand the nature of our unique project better than anybody at Arches.
“And,” he said with a dismissive wave, “it needn’t interfere with your primary duty, which is spying for Minister Gramm. You can do that just as effectively while getting on with some worthwhile work as well:”
Color spotted Pila’s cheeks, but she still hadn’t moved a muscle. “You wouldn’t dare say that if Gramm were here.”