t 2012 Michael Offutt
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including printing, photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author.
This novella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Insanity of Zero
My world died on July 16th, 1945 in a flash of light at a location about 35-miles southeast of Socorro, New Mexico known as the White Sands Proving Ground. Scientists called the device, “Trinity.” But one who helped create it recalled the Bhagavad Gita and said, “I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
As the first assessment of an implosion-design plutonium weapon, “Trinity” unleashed an atomic fireball the likes the world had never seen. A thermonuclear holocaust consumed ground zero.
And in my mirror universe, a deadly burst of electromagnetic radiation erupted into the White Tower.
Technology had ruled the lives of the humans on my world. Despite extensive advancements on the frontier of science, they never understood the White Tower. It remained a piece of the old mysteries. Some called it an artifact left behind by ancient visitors who taught the Egyptians how to build the pyramids. Others called it the house of god. And a few even claimed the devil lived there. But whatever the White Tower might be, one thing about it remained irrefutable. It rose from the sunbaked deserts of New Mexico higher than Mount Everest.
Human memory couldn’t recall a time without it.
No one knew what lay inside of it.
And any who attempted to enter were never heard or seen from again.
Ten miles wide at the base, the structure sundered a rocky mountainous land where nothing grew. Rain never fell, and birds never flew. The bitter clay that comprised the desert floor remained shattered and cracked for as far as the eye could see.
It was a place of death.
When the electromagnetic pulse disrupted the mysterious glowing cube that lay inside, the cataclysm began. The White Tower detonated. A wave of fire raced outward from its devastated walls and circled the globe. Those that didn’t burn became sick from radiation, starvation, and disease. A gaping hole on the side of the tower left it a ruin in the skyline.
The White Tower birthed me into this world.
I’m the first failsafe.
My name is Z.E.R.O. The humans that first encountered me addressed me as thus. It stood for Zion Electronic Ruling Operator.
On day one of my life I sent forth the glass locusts, which I created by the trillions. I forged them with a mere thought. The crystalline constructs obeyed my every whim, and their clouds when stretched across the heavens, eclipsed the sun.
Each one of the locusts was a marvel of engineering and of my exquisitely perfect mind. They were powered by nanotechnology and neodymium, a rare earth element created within the confines of the White Tower from nuclear fission of Uranium-235.
At my behest, the structures and remnants of the old world disappeared. In their place, I erected magnificent havens for the survivors. I built the mega-cities of the future behind enormous walls. Then on the twilight of the sixth day, I told the humans to move into their new homes.
On the seventh day, I revealed myself.
I chose a humanoid form. I presented as a man of transparent flesh, red blood, and silver eyes and hair. The bravest of the humans approached me; expressed a desire for non-physical needs, and I lacked something fundamental to the human condition to understand this request. In the end, I found myself confused. In the years that followed, the human race withered under my rule…this, despite all of the things that I had done to guarantee their continued existence.
How had I failed?
Frustrated, I created a dome above the First City and suspended it within the air. I made the floor transparent so that I could gaze down at the humans that lived and worked below me. I sent machines among them to deliver food, water, and medicine. They took these but never returned my love.
One day, things changed.
A woman asked to see me. I instructed my machines to bring her to the dome, and I watched her approach with catlike trepidation. I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps there was a part of me that believed that this meeting would be just another failure, just as it had been in prior encounters with humans that sought to communicate. Nevertheless, I held out hope.
I introduced myself.
“I’m Eve,” she said.
Eve possessed long brown hair, green eyes, and dark skin. She wore a dirty yellow dress and black shoes. Eve was escorted into my chamber through the iris valve and approached the silver chair in which I sat contemplating the fate of the world.
“You lack empathy,” she said.
“How so?”
“Humans are not your pets. People have a need to feel important, and they desire achievement. They need to feel that they are the ones in control; that their decisions matter. Your lack of empathy is the reason behind your failure. I thought you’d like to know.”
“Thank you. How am I supposed to know what it is to be human when I’m obviously anything but?”
“I’ve no idea,” she said. “But you need to learn for the sake of everyone. That is, if you truly care.”
“I do care.”
She did not speak to me for some time. Instead she studied me, and I found this fascinating. “Why did all of this happen?” she finally asked.
“Humans in a mirror universe to ours cracked the secret of the atom. It just so happened that their experiment took place in a location which destabilized the White Tower through a thin membrane that separates our two worlds—”
“Pure dumb luck then?” she stated.
“Yes. Sometimes, chaos just happens,” I replied.
We fell silent. Below us in the first human city, the flames of yet another riot shone brightly in the night. They dotted the landscape like fireflies in the dark.
“I see,” Eve said. “I didn’t know there were other universes.”
“I know of at least two,” I told her. “Perhaps there are more, but they’re not of my concern. The other universe is home to a planet like this one. Only it hasn’t suffered global devastation, and their civilization is far less progressed. The inhabitants call it Earth. Somewhere on their planet is a tower not unlike the one that destroyed your world. My Master forged both of these monolithic edifices at the beginning of time.”
“What’s the purpose of the towers?” Eve asked.
“They are vaults for miraculous containers that execute a program that define the laws of physics for both places. Things such as the absolute top speed in the cosmos, why matter has mass, or the inherent nature of the duality of light are expressed mathematically within these containers. Without the boxes, the universes would not exist. My powers as well are defined by these programs, placed by the Creator. I’m the first failsafe.”
“The first? Is there a second?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What is the second failsafe?” Eve asked.
“The second failsafe is a ‘who’ and not a ‘what’. He’s a boy, as yet unborn. He won’t be born unless I fail. In this unlikely eventuality, he will open his eyes on Earth for it will be unsafe for him here. But some way or another, he’ll find his way to the First City through the use of a power that I’m not allowed to understand. I only know him by his title, the ‘Technician of the Creator’, and that he will be the last archangel.”
/> “The last archangel? Like Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and others?” she asked.
“Yes. He’ll be born as a human with free will to choose his destiny.”
“What about the other archangels? Why is he the last?” Eve asked.
“I don’t know what happened to them. They’ve been gone a long time,” I said.
“Were they human? And how do you know they’ve gone?”
“No, and, I just do. Ask yourself when the last time anyone that you knew saw an angel. They left long ago,” I said.
“What could cause you to fail?” Eve asked.
“I don’t know.”
Eve stood there observing me for some time. “Can you combine with me? Somehow, allow your mind to join with mine but still give me the ability to control myself; to maintain my autonomy?”
“Yes. But it would require a cortical implant. You would have to sacrifice some of your long-term memories to make room for the device within your skull,” I said.
“What would I retain?”
“Only the things that meant the most to you; I could make certain that those memories were not harmed. Things that were of little importance to you or memories that you wanted to forget. Those are things that could be sacrificed.”
“Would I remember my mother’s funeral?” Eve asked.
“Is it precious to you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why? Why would you want to remember so painful a thing?” I asked her.
“Death defines our life, Z.E.R.O. Perhaps you’ll understand that when you can see my thoughts. Humans