E, prologue

Greetings on behalf of the apes who once lived here. For your convenience, this record was painstakingly chiseled into stone in five fundamentally different languages I just invented. I trust you were able to find one similar enough to your own form of communication to decode it.

I'm doing this for myself as much as for you. I am finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. As the field of possible outcomes for the futre narrows, the equations become so easy my idle mind runs through the likeliest scenario over and over and over. I'll finish writing this, then I will bury the tablets in a cave. Shortly after that, this entire continent will be under water and I will die gasping.

Fortunately for both of us, I can instead occupy my mind with the considerable tasks of creating a series of writing systems that could be translated by an unknown, presumably aquatic, future intelligent species and recalling important details from the entire history of life on Earth.

I'm not going to claim I was there when it started. I wasn't. I remember it as if I had been, though. I'll get to that later. This is probably confusing enough for you, having just deciphered scratchings on a mountain of rocks that predate all your known history. I'll try to keep things in order.

The story starts with a giant ball of goo in the sky.

What the Birds Knew, part two

It was a mad press of bodies. They were suffocated by the sound of people shouting, overwhelmed by the sickening smell of sweat and mud and waste and something that might have been food. To make things worse, as Ed followed Vik through the crowd he realized that these people did not know each other. They lived elbow to elbow in this place and yet no one was alarmed by the presence of two dirty boys from what seemed like a different planet.

They did not want to run headlong into that sea of bodies. In fact, even the older, braver Vik was prepared to turn back until they heard heavy footsteps and shouting from the direction they had come.
The was little choice. Vik grabbed Ed by the wrist and yanked him across the dusty street between the crowd and the locked buildings they'd used for cover.

Most of the people in the street were as filthy as they were, and all were far too concerned with their own business to give the boys a second glance. The street Vik had chosen was the most crowded they could see. As they moved through, it was clear that the people there were engaged in some form of trade. Much of the bargaining concerned food or tools, but Ed could not understand the rest of it. Some of the traders were dealing in small vials, metal discs, and shiny trinkets.
Ed's attempt to puzzle it out was interrupted when Vik tugged his arm and led him into a small alcove between two shacks.
"Can't go back. Not yet," Vik announced between deep breaths.
"When?" Ed was frightened by what he had seen, but he was more afraid Vik's enthusiasm would getting the better of him. The older boy was the most adventurous of the village children. He had even been allowed to go with Dug and Mok when they ranged out to forage and hunt.
"They'll forget us. Then go."
"Hide here?" Ed nearly begged, but he knew it was too late.
"You hide. I want to see more."
They left their deerskin coats in the alley. It was hot inside the wall, and most of the children they saw ran about barefoot and shirtless. However, their hide pants and shoes were too muddy to be distinguishable from the threadbare and patched cloth garments which seemed the norm. Vik's belt with the pouches -- and whatever he kept in them -- was clearly too valuable to leave behind.

They did not run this time. It seemed Vik had already picked up on the frantic patterns, and so Ed allowed him to lead as they navigated currents of moving human beings.
Ed noticed that he could understand some of what these wall people were saying. He recognized the words for numbers, commands, and directions, but lacking context, he could not make sense of it.
They passed stalls and tables stacked with vegetables and meat, bottles and jars full of different colored fluids, clear glass bubbles pinched at one end by metal bands, even a few which featured large kettles full of some pungent substance doled out by the bowl.
Some of these were surrounded by dense crowds, all shouting and pushing while others were virtually abandoned. Ed was unable to comprehend why one could be so much more popular than the next.

A horn blast cut through the clamor. Vik halted and the crowed grew quiet. Then, in an eerily spontaneous manner, the crowd began to part. The boys were swept along, pressing themselves in with the wall people, clearing a path through the center of the dirty street.
A huge car was ambling down the lane -- a working car, all bright paint and polished metal. It made almost no sound other than the crackling of its wheels as they crushed the earth beneath. It hummed softly as it passed just inches from them, leaving a sweet odor behind. Its large open back section was stacked with crates. When it came to a rest, two men jumped down from the stack and began unloading it. Ed and Vik were still gaping at it when the crowd closed in around them and everyone went about their business.

The street came to an intersection with another, somewhat darker and less crowded. Vik took a moment to consider, but must have decided they were safer when hidden by the crowd, because he crossed quickly and continued along the same street. Although he could not see them from where they were, Ed knew they were headed toward the tall glowing structures they'd seen earlier.
After that, Ed noticed the stalls and shacks which lined the street were somewhat more solid than they were behind. Here and there, he spotted wall people in flowing robes dyed bright colors. These men and women were so large and pale, it was almost comical to watch them point and bellow orders, but they seemed to command respect from the disorganized mob.

They passed a crowd so raucous that even some of the fat wall people struggled to get close. Ed stopped. He decided to keep track of which items created the largest crowds, attempting to make sense of the strange customs beyond the wall.
Another horn sounded. Ed used the momentary lull to position himself closer to whatever was on the other side. When the small car passed, and the crowd expanded back into the middle of the street, he jumped in.
They were leaves. Stacks and stacks of broad green leaves in bundles. Oddly, they seemed to be from the very plants they had seen in the field.
He looked up. A girl about his age was standing behind the stacks. It seemed she had been tying the bundles up with string, but she stopped to peer at Ed with suspicion in her eyes. Ed wondered how long she had been watching him while he was worrying about foliage.
Ed froze. He met her gaze but only because he did not know what else to do. She knew. Just as in the village there were things only the children knew, it was the same here. The adults were too busy to notice a strange kid, but not her.
Ed felt someone grab his arm and yank him back into the street. Vik said nothing as he steadied the younger boy, just gave him the usual disappointed sneer. He stopped when he noticed the fear in Ed's eyes.
"She knows," he blurted, and they ran.

They did not get far before Ed started to notice more children following them. They seemed to emerge from nowhere, alerted by some inaudible call. It was hard to keep pace with Vik as he dodged and weaved through the crowd, but every time he dared to look over his shoulder, he saw at least one of the wall children in pursuit.
Vik looked back at him and jerked his head to the right. A second later, he turned and ran down an alley between two concrete buildings. At the far side was a wooden fence with bright light beyond. Vik got there first and began climbing, but Ed's wounded hand stung when he tried to grasp the planks and he could not keep up.
A rock smacked the fence just between the two boys. The alley was dark, but they could make out at least six figures blocking the alley from the other side. Vik jumped down and faced them.
"Are you lost?" one of them stepped forward, a boy around Vik's age. They were the same height, but where Vik was thin and wiry, he was thick with fat and muscle. Vik took a step forward, but made no reply.
"More muddy farm boys on my turf?" he said. "Didn't you learn last time?" The big kid moved toward Vik, fists clenched. His friends fell in behind him. "Maybe I should--"
Vik lashed out and found the big kid's eye with two fingers. He doubled over and covered his face with both hands. Vik hopped backward, but the other wall children seemed to have lost their courage.
For a moment, Ed hoped they might give up, but their leader's moans of pain turned into an angry roar. He charged at Vik while shielding his eyes with one arm. Vik dodged easily, however, and his attacker slammed into the wooden fence. Ed stepped away just as Vik crashed into the big kid, shoulder first. Rusty brackets creaked and the entire fence fell, sending Vik and his attacker tumbling into the light beyond.
Ed saw the stunned faces of a crowd of traders. Presumably they were bargaining with a purveyor of some kind, but that individual was likely trapped beneath the fence with the two boys wrestling on top.
Vik found an opening and delivered a chop to the big kid's throat. He released Vik and writhed on the ground, gasping. At this, his gang charged. Ed looked around for a way to escape, but the crowd that had gathered to haggle had pressed in even closer to watch the fight.
As Vik was scrambling to his feet, Ed noticed the items for sale. There were barrels full of small glass tubes packed with what looked like white sand. He had no idea what it was, but he had observed that it was in high demand whenever it was offered.
He kicked the nearest barrel, and send its contents spilling all over the gang's leader. He then upended a small box which sat on the table between them and the buyers which sent the objects flying in all directions like a rain of crystals.

Vik smiled at him as they slipped away in the confusion.

What the Birds Knew, part one

"You see?" Vik had run on ahead and Ed was panting trying to keep up as they climbed the hill.
"Can't see anything! Too dark!" The younger boy braced himself on one of the wispy trees, catching his breath.
"Over there," Vik was standing on the crest, pointing off into the distance. Ed clambered over the edge and took in the view. The hill was not large, but it still offered a modest view of the floodplains below. As his eyes focused, Ed could make it out. It wasn't much more than a grey blur at this distance, but he could see the wall.
"Dug said not to go near. Said they kill you 'fore you even see 'em."
"Dug's old and stupid. You want to see inside or no?" Vik turned to the younger boy. "Can't get over by myself."

The moon had emerged from the clouds, so the boys smeared mud on their faces and deerskin coats to hide them from its light. They crept slowly through the bog, keeping their bodies low and their eyes open for snakes. Here and there, the wetland was broken by patches of cattails and shrubs. Here they would dash ahead, keeping the foliage between them and the wall.
It was bigger than Ed thought it would be, many times the height of the tallest man. As they neared the base, they could see something glowing inside, almost as if whatever lay beyond was burning brightly and without smoke.
They were creeping through a dense patch of trees near the wall when Vik stopped abruptly. He pointed to his right.
There among the reeds, almost entirely swallowed by the mud was a rusted metal frame. Ed knew what it was. Cars were everywhere. They were full of useful metal parts, turned on their sides they made excellent walls, you could even live in some of the bigger ones.
This one was open all around and had a frame which supported a far rarer relic -- a gun. A big gun at that. Dug had the village's only example of the weapon, a simple long rifle he polished far more often than he fired. This car gun was several times its size, but choked with creeping vines and rust.
Vik put his finger to his mouth and pointed up at the wall above them. Elsewhere it was smooth concrete, but here it was pocked with craters of varying sizes, with one huge one just beyond Vik's reach. Dark, twisted rods protruded from the wall's damaged section.

"Quiet now," Vik whispered as he removed the rope he'd wrapped around his torso, "and leave that."
Ed knew he meant his spear. He found the short metal rod buried in the mud inside a brick building that was too thin to be a house. It was about as long as his leg, heavy, with two points, one of which curved backward. It gave him blisters, but he scraped off the rust and sharpened it with a rock. Grudgingly, he removed the cloth strap and laid it inside the gun car so he would remember.
"Take this," Vik handed Ed the rope. It was old and rough, but flexible. "I boost you up and you knot it, right?"
"Right," Ed nodded and looked up at the wall. He could feel his heart in his throat. Vik walked right up to the wall and knelt in the sandy mud around its base. Ed looped the rope and draped it around his neck before he climbed onto the older boy's shoulders.

After that it was as easy as climbing a tree. Ed scurried up the wall using the metal rods exposed by whatever carved the holes. When he was most of the way up, he wrapped the rope around one of them and knotted it, leaving about equal amounts on either side of the knot. Below, Vik seized his end and pulled hard, testing it. When he was satisfied, he followed Ed up the wall.
Just before the boys reached the top, Vik tapped Ed's foot from below. He pointed off to the side where a sparrow had nested in one of the holes blasted into the face of the wall and smiled. Ed grinned back.
"Only the birds know what they do inside the wall," was all Dug would ever say about it, other than warning them to keep their distance -- which he did at length.

Ed gained the top just before Vik, but as he reached over the edge, he felt something snag. He pulled his hand back and saw the blood trickling down his arm before he felt the tear in his palm. He gasped, and almost lost his hold with the other hand.
"Cut me," he gasped. "Somethin'."
Vik hissed to silence him and climbed up beside. He gripped the edge more tentatively, and pulled himself up to his chin. "Ah," he said and began to rifle through the leather bags he had sewn into his belt. He handed a strip of cloth to Ed. As he was trying to wrap his hand properly without falling, Ed noticed Vik hoisting himself to the top brandishing shiny metal pliers.

After Vik had cut through the barbed wire and tossed a portion of it behind them, the boys climbed to the top and looked beyond. It was as if they'd crossed into another world. The smell of the swamp was gone, replaced by the smells of dirt and rain and waste. The wall went straight down from where they were, but here and there it was supported by a rounded tower made of the same material. From them, bright lights shone down below, like single burning rays of sunlight. The ground here was flat and covered with low vegetation, but beyond they could make out buildings at least as tall as the wall itself, all of them glowing so brightly, they could not see in the shadows around them.
They lowered themselves with the other half of the rope and left it dangling there for the return trip. The ground was moist and spongy between the plants, which were all identical, growing in long rows side by side.
Vik did not wait to puzzle out this mystery. He motioned for Ed to follow and together they made their way across the bizarre plain, careful to avoid the roving circles of light cast by the towers.

Beyond the fields, they found another wall -- much shorter than the first, but made of polished metal and too high to scale. To their right, it seemed to run unbroken all the way to the big wall after it turned.
Ed was about to suggest they turn back when Vik noticed the lights off to the left. "
You see?"
Ed saw, although he wished he hadn't.
As they got closer, they could see that the light came from a small building, just a room really, that intersected the metal wall. It had a door with a window, and from it a path ran out into the field.
Vik edged up to the small building. Ed held back in its shadow, wishing he could dissuade Vik, but too frightened to speak. The light was not like the ones from the towers, it was just a small lamp, dimly illuminating the area.
Vik crawled beneath the door, careful to stay away from the window. As he made to pull himself up to peer inside, he placed a hand on the door. As soon as he put his weight on it, the door swung open and Vik tumbled into the room beyond. Ed jumped when he heard. He saw the door close behind Vik with an audible click.
He heard a muffled pounding from the other side, but Vik did not emerge. "Hey!" he heard from inside. More knocking. "Push it, Ed. I can't!"
Through the window Ed could see Vik alone in the small room. While Vik pounded on his side in vain, it swung open easily for Ed.
"Opens from one side," Ed declared, and immediately felt stupid for saying it. He entered the room which was made of the same polished metal as the wall, with a black dome in the center of the ceiling. Vik paused to wedge his pliers in the first door to keep it ajar before they tested the door opposite.

Confident that the other door opened from both sides, the boys walked out to a dusty road that ran along the metal wall. Beyond that they could see a series of long, tall buildings with dim alleys running between them. They tried a few of the doors, but found them firmly locked. They could not see anyone around, but they could hear the sounds of people off in the direction of the glowing city they saw from the wall.
Keeping to the shadows, they moved in that direction.

It was the biggest village they had ever seen. More people than Ed thought could live in one place spread out all around in a dense mass of tents and lean-tos strung between mismatched wood and brick cottages. The streets were dirty and poorly-lit, but even at this hour the people were awake -- eating and drinking and laughing and fighting.

The shacks and hovels were small enough that the boys could see the city beyond. The buildings got bigger and brighter until they seemed impossible. It was as if they'd wandered into a story about the old world, when people built skyscrapers and the cars moved on their own and men and women made war in the sky like eagles.

Ed could see that even Vik was afraid.

Two Hundred and Thirty-five Angels

A cordite charge ignites. Ninety pounds of uranium are launched at another sixty pounds at a thousand feet per second,

The mothership slides out of F-space just beyond the beacon perimeter. It is a massive and sluggish craft, but the forward zetarays make short work of the nearest defensive platform before it can launch intercept fighters. The whole thing goes up in a big green cloud.

Five turns to optimal delivery range. The natives will likely catch up to them in three. Power is diverted to the torches. The gunners taking potshots with the zetarays stand down, even the softly pulsing lights on the command deck dim. The mothership fires off toward the sun.

It was not being done with callousness or wrath. It was the only logical solution. A shockwave hit fifteen orbits ago. Nothing but blue haze was detected at the furthest reach of the observers in the outer arm galaxies at thirteen. At twelve orbs, they knew.

It could not be allowed to happen. Collision with another universe would wipe out an expected ten percent of the colony. An additional seventy would be scattered through the nothing beyond by the erratic gravity patterns. The leadercaste found this unacceptable, and so they made a plan.

Four turns into the run and the mothership passes close enough to a ringed giant to see it from the viewports. It is a green dot twice the size of the stars beyond. Periodically, the zetarays flare up and destroy debris, small beacons, and civilian ships. Even with decreased power, sensors get a read on the enemy craft. A dense formation of warships that mustered near the inner planets are rushing to meet them while a sea of smaller vessels -- pickets and patrollers from the outer defense platforms -- are swarming in from behind.

The order is given and the young pilots file into their small fighters. The mothership will not stop to engage the defenders. There is no time. The simple laborcaste soldiers plug a series of pipes into sockets on all four arms. Not only do these devices allow the operators to interface directly with their crafts, but they pour a cocktail of substances into their bodies which enhance performance and free them of the worry that whether or not the run is successful, it is a one-way trip for the escorts.

Makercaste minds used the five orbs after the discovery to make the plan a reality. They dramatically increased the range of listening devices. They honed F-drive technology. They created the device.

There was no hesitation, no decision to be made when they found that large portions of the incoming universe were occupied by advanced sentient lifeforms. The plan had to be carried out.

Three turns left and the mothership's pursuers reach weapon range and begin firing. The blast shields take the brunt of the damage, but the commander deems the risk to the engines too great to ignore.

Armored panels blast open and fly off the rear portion of the mothership, exposing the great fighter bays beneath. Five hundred thousand fighters spill out, their pilots jacked up into a frenzy.

Their pursuers are far less maneuverable than the mothership's escorts. They fire their primitive weapons, but seldom hit anything. Their numbers seem limitless, however, and the fighters are hard-pressed to keep them at bay.

As the plan slowly came to fruition over the intervening seven orbits, it became clear that the native species of the other universe were far less advanced than the colony. Still, some had established galaxy-spanning civilizations with a degree of technology that could pose a threat. After all, the plan called for the destruction of every incoming star. The colony's resources would be spread thin.

Two turns and the inner planets' fleet is arrayed ahead. The mothership's rear guard is disintegrating, but they have managed to stall the enemy long enough. The delivery is on schedule.

The remaining dock gates rocket outward and two million fighters form a giant wedge ahead of the mothership. Frigates and Battleships melt in the first barrage. The fighter spear plunges into the enemy formation, viciously attacking any craft that may impede the mothership's progress.

A few of the natives did manage to gather enough information to cobble together a modest defense. They developed a system of beacons that would broadcast F-space static in a protective bubble. Any starship would have to use far slower means of transport within or be torn to pieces.

The motherships were built -- craft that could penetrate the target system, defend themselves long enough to reach the star, deliver the device and have a small chance of escaping if the beacon network was damaged enough in the assault.

One turn and the ragged remains emerge on the other side of the defenders' fleet. Few fighters remain, their pilots too inebriated to resist the urge to attack targets many times their size with reckless fervor, much less hold a formation.

The mothership is badly damaged. Most of the forward blast shields have been torn away. Atmosphere and fuel are leaking from great breeches in its side. However, it lumbers on unopposed.

The plan called for a lightning strike. A simultaneous assault on every star in range of the motherships' F-drives. They were to leap across the nothing and destroy their targets before their gravity wells and defenders could threaten the colony.

Optimal range achieved. The mothership has split into four sections, exposing a gigantic projectile inside its mostly hollow superstructure. The engines ignite, and it screams toward the sun. The mothership breaks off and slowly comes about. Its systems are so badly savaged that they barely notice the glow.

They have turned around entirely, and what remains of the mothership is facing the way they came. Every hand hoping they managed to punch through the beacons. The stars are practically gone now. The whole universe is pulsing with light.

The coordinates are set. The commander gives the order. The F-drive sparks into action.

And everything goes white.

and everything goes white.

Untitled I, Chapter 1

"Oh no. No no no no no no no."

Billy has never killed anyone before. There is the click of plastic on pavement as the murder weapon drops from his hand. Whoever this guy was, he never even got the chance to put on a proper shocked expression before he died. There he lies, still wearing a smug half grin and vacant stare like he's looking right through Billy at something far more interesting. Well, he's staring with one eye, anyway. Most of the left side of his face is covered by that smoking crater.

He's young. At least, he looks young. You never can tell with these guys. He's hairless, and his pale skin looks sick in the oily streetlight filtering into the alley, but his build says this was once the body of a lithe, active man. He's wearing the same gray jumpsuit they all wear, with the same sideways figure eight on his forehead.

What was he doing down here? Billy wonders aloud to no one in particular, pretending for a moment that it matters. Billy's mind is beginning to recover from the shock of his first manslaughter offense, but each second some new horrific detail stands out and is announced by an increasingly unpleasant tightening sensation in his chest.

He is standing over the dead body of an immortal. In a neighborhood like Billy's they are practically legendary. The procedure to transform a normal human being into a partially synthetic is invasive, time-consuming, and most of all, expensive. As a result, it is only the extremely wealthy who undergo the transformation. Everyone believes they'll get there some day, though.

Billy looks down at the gun, hesitates a moment before he picks it up. It doesn't mater. It's covered with his fingerprints, and registered in his name. His stomach turns again. It's almost weightless but still unwieldy with the careless lack of ergonomics that is the trademark of discount products everywhere.

The laser pistol was a gift from his mother. He didn't want it, but she wouldn't take no for answer. She said it was a rough neighborhood and he should carry some kind of protection. The irony is lost on Billy who is trying not to hyperventilate.

He manages to calm himself. No one else saw this happen. The guy was out in a bad neighborhood in the middle of the night.

Billy jumps, startled by a high-pitched wail coming from behind and above his head. He turns to face it, reflexively shielding his eyes from a blinding spotlight. Between the deafening notes of the alarm, he can make out the rapid click-click-click of an computerized camera.

A different flash of light and the alley is silent again. The floating machine crashes to the ground in a heap of smoldering circuits and melted plastic. Billy is up and running.