Diaspora

Still, the Distance Problem was solved, with a model that merely extended Renata Kozuch's work, discarding none of her triumphs. Let them try bettering that in Earth C-Z! Neither ve nor Gabriel were running versions there—they'd left behind snapshots only to be run in the unlikely event that the whole Diaspora was wiped out—but Blanca thought it over and reluctantly dispatched a bulletin homeward, summarizing vis results. That was the correct protocol, after all. Never mind if the work was laughed at and forgotten; ve could argue the case in Fomalhaut C-Z, once there was someone awake worth arguing with.

Blanca watched the silver clouds circulating; there was a big quake coming soon, but ve'd lost interest in seismology. And although there were a thousand things yet to be explored in the extended Kozuch model—how the four-dimensional universes that played "standard fiber" to the macrosphere determined its own strange particle physics, for one—ve wanted to save something for Gabriel. They could map that real but unreachable world together, physicist and scape artist, mathematicians both.

Blanca shut down the glassy plain, the orange sky, the clouds. In the darkness, ve built a hierarchy of luminous spheres and set it spinning beside ver. Then ve instructed vis exoself to freeze ver until the moment they arrived at Fomalhaut.

Ve stared into the light, waiting to see the expression on Gabriel's face when he heard the news.

Part Four

Yatima glanced hopefully at the star they'd called Weyl. If it wasn't the last link in the chain, it had to be close. "Eight and a half centuries later, the Diaspora reached Swift. From there, you know as much as I do."

Paolo said, "Forget Swift. What about Orpheus?"

"Orpheus?"

"Just because your clone didn't wake there—"

Yatima laughed. "It's got nothing to do with that. Do you think an ancient, space-faring civilization will want to hear about every last novelty we've encountered in our travels?"

Paolo was unswayed. "We wouldn't be here, if it wasn't for Orpheus. Orpheus changed everything."

10

DIASPORA

Carter-Zimmerman polis, Earth

55 721 234 801 846 CST

31 December 3999, 23:59:59.000 UT

Waiting to be cloned one thousand times and scattered across ten million cubic light years, Paolo Venetti relaxed in his favorite ceremonial bathtub: a tiered hexagonal pool set in a courtyard of black marble flecked with gold. Paolo wore full traditional anatomy, uncomfortable garb at first, but the warm currents flowing across his back and shoulders slowly eased him into a pleasant torpor. He could have reached the same state in an instant, by decree, but the occasion seemed to demand the complete ritual of verisimilitude, the ornate curlicued longhand of imitation physical cause and effect.

The sky above the courtyard was warm and blue, cloudless and sunless, isotropic. As the moment of Diaspora approached, a small gray lizard darted across the courtyard, claws scrabbling. It halted by the far edge of the pool, and Paolo marveled at the delicate pulse of its breathing, and watched the lizard watching him, until it moved again, disappearing into the surrounding vineyards. The scape was full of birds and insects, rodents and small reptiles-decorative in appearance, but also satisfying a more abstract aesthetic: softening the harsh radial symmetry of the lone observer; anchoring the simulation by perceiving it from a multitude of viewpoints. Ontological guy lines. No one had asked the lizards if they wanted to be cloned, though. They were coming along for the ride, like it or not.

Paolo waited calmly, prepared for every one of half a dozen possible fates.

11

WANG'S CARPETS

Carter-Zimmerman polis, Orpheus orbit

65 494 173 543 415 CST

10 September 4309, 17:12:20.569 UT

An invisible bell chimed softly, three times. Paolo laughed, delighted. One chime would have meant that he was still on Earth: an anti-climax, certainly—but there would have been advantages to compensate for that. Everyone who really mattered to him lived in Carter-Zimmerman, but not all of them had chosen to take part in the Diaspora to the same degree; his Earth-self would have lost no one. Helping to ensure that the thousand ships were safely dispatched would have been satisfying, too. And remaining a member of the Coalition, plugged into the entire global culture in real time, would have been an attraction in itself.