Jakt: frowned. “I thought the smaller things were, the faster things happened.”

“It is counterintuitive,” said Valentine.

“After nuclear fission it takes hours for the philotic rays to sort themselves back out again,” said the computer-Miro. “Split a smaller particle than an atom, and the philotic connection between the fragments will last much longer than that.”

“Which is how the ansible works,” said Miro.

Valentine looked at him closely. Why was he talking sometimes in his own voice, sometimes through the computer? Was the program under his control or wasn't it?

“The principle of the ansible is that if you suspend a meson in a powerful magnetic field,” said computer-Miro, “split it, and carry the two parts as far away as you want, the philotic twining will still connect them. And the connection is instantaneous. If one fragment spins or vibrates, the ray between them spins and vibrates, and the movement is detectable at the other end at exactly the same moment. It takes no time whatsoever for the movement to be transmitted along the entire length of the ray, even if the two fragments are carried light-years away from each other. Nobody knows why it works, but we're glad it does. Without the ansible, there'd be no possibility of meaningful communication between human worlds.”

“Hell, there's no meaningful communication now,” said Jakt. “And if it wasn't for the ansibles, there'd be no warfleet heading for Lusitania right now.”

Valentine wasn't listening to Jakt, though. She was watching Miro. This time Valentine saw when he moved his lips and jaw, slightly, silently. Sure enough, after he subvocalized, the computer image of Miro spoke again. He was giving commands. It had been absurd for her to think otherwise– who else could be controlling the computer?

“It's a hierarchy,” said the image. “The more complex the structure, the faster the response to change. It's as if the smaller the particle is, the stupider it is, so it's slower to pick up on the fact that it's now part of a different structure.”

“Now you're anthropomorphizing,” said Valentine.

“Maybe,” said Miro. “Maybe not.”

“Human beings are organisms,” said the image. “But human philotic twinings go way beyond those of any other life form.”

“Now you're talking about that stuff that came from Ganges a thousand years ago,” said Valentine. “Nobody's been able to get consistent results from those experiments.” The researchers– Hindus all, and devout ones– claimed that they had shown that human philotic twinings, unlike those of other organisms, did not always reach directly down into the planet's core to twine with all other life and matter. Rather, they claimed, the philotic rays from human beings often twined with those of other human beings, most often with families, but sometimes between teachers and students, and sometimes between close co-workers– including the researchers themselves. The Gangeans had concluded that this distinction between humans and other plant and animal life proved that the souls of some humans were literally lifted to a higher plane, nearer to perfection. They believed that the Perfecting Ones had become one with each other the way that all of life was one with the world. “It's all very pleasingly mystical, but nobody except Gangean Hindus takes it seriously anymore.”

“I do,” said Miro.

“To each his own,” said Jakt.

“Not as a religion,” said Miro. “As science.”

“You mean metaphysics, don't you?” said Valentine.

It was the Miro-image that answered. “The philotic connections between people change fastest of all, and what the Gangeans proved is that they respond to human will. If you have strong feelings binding you to your family, then your philotic rays will twine and you will be one, in exactly the same way that the different atoms in a molecule are one.”

It was a sweet idea– she had thought so when she first heard it, perhaps two thousand years ago, when Ender was speaking for a murdered revolutionary on Mindanao. She and Ender had speculated then on whether the Gangean tests would show that they were twined, as brother and sister. They wondered whether there had been such a connection between them as children, and if it had persisted when Ender was taken off to Battle School and they were separated for six years. Ender had liked that idea very much, and so had Valentine, but after that one conversation the subject never came up again. The notion of philotic connections between people had remained in the pretty-idea category in her memory. “It's nice to think that the metaphor of human unity might have a physical analogue,” said Valentine.

“Listen!” said Miro. Apparently he didn't want her to dismiss the idea as “nice.”

Again his image spoke for him. “If the Gangeans are right, then when a human being chooses to bond with another person, when he makes a commitment to a community, it is not just a social phenomenon. It's a physical event as well. The philote, the smallest conceivable physical particle– if we can call something with no mass or inertia physical at all– responds to an act of the human will.”

“That's why it's so hard for anyone to take the Gangean experiments seriously.”

“The Gangean experiments were careful and honest.”

“But no one else ever got the same results.”

“No one else ever took them seriously enough to perform the same experiments. Does that surprise you?”

“Yes,” said Valentine. But then she remembered how the idea had been ridiculed in the scientific press, while it was immediately picked up by the lunatic fringe and incorporated into dozens of fringe religions. Once that happened, how could a scientist hope to get funding for such a project? How could a scientist expect to have a career if others came to think of him as a proponent of a metaphysical religion? “No, I suppose it doesn't.”

The Miro-image nodded. “If the philotic ray twines in response to the human will, why couldn't we suppose that all philotic twining is willed? Every particle, all of matter and energy, why couldn't every observable phenomenon in the universe be the willing behavior of individuals?”

“Now we're beyond Gangean Hinduism,” said Valentine. “How seriously am I supposed to take this? What you're talking about is Animism. The most primitive kind of religion. Everything's alive. Stones and oceans and–”

“No,” said Miro. “Life is life.”

“Life is life,” said the computer program. “Life is when a single philote has the strength of will to bind together the molecules of a single cell, to entwine their rays into one. A stronger philote can bind together many cells into a single organism. The strongest of all are the intelligent beings. We can bestow our philotic connections where we will. The philotic basis of intelligent life is even clearer in the other known sentient species. When a pequenino dies and passes into the third life, it's his strong-willed philote that preserves his identity and passes it from the mammaloid corpse to the living tree.”

“Reincarnation,” said Jakt. “The philote is the soul.”

“It happens with the piggies, anyway,” said Miro.

“The hive queen as well,” said the Miro-image. “The reason we discovered philotic connections in the first place was because we saw how the buggers communicated with each other faster than light– that's what showed us it was possible. The individual buggers are all part of the hive queen; they're like her hands and feet, and she's their mind, one vast organism with thousands or millions of bodies. And the only connection between them is the twining of their philotic rays.”

It was a picture of the universe that Valentine had never conceived of before. Of course, as a historian and biographer she usually conceived of things in terms of peoples and societies; while she wasn't ignorant of physics, neither was she deeply trained in it. Perhaps a physicist would know at once why this whole idea was absurd. But then, perhaps a physicist would be so locked into the consensus of his scientific community that it would be harder for him to accept an idea that transformed the meaning of everything he knew. Even if it were true.