…Or not…
Cass had often thought the Waus would be much more effective without Armour, since there could then be more of them—the Armour seemed a cutting-edge construction, built who-knows-where by who-knows-what. She held this perhaps unfounded belief that ordinary little acts of kindness could trickle out and change the world. Thus, without Armour, and without computational power either, she roamed Prospero—by day, fixing injustices with media, courts, corrupt officials, neglectful parents, and oppressed Xenos, and by night, physically hitting cartels where it hurt. Why bother with Armour when a psi-discharge could knock out any criminal anyway?
She was summoned back by an alarm indicating that everything was in place for the Wau to explore the After. Cass returned to the Fortress and donned the Armour. She double-checked that the upload software copied by her AIs at the transfer centers was undetectable. She opened a connection somewhere in a bustling transfer center, like Prospero's populous sector 88, where crowds settled believing the number would bring them luck.
She laid heavily down in the Dark Unit's sarcophagus, thinking: Like those uploading themselves, I intend to return. Will I change my mind?
The software activated, and everything went dark.
The darkness and sensory deprivation lasted about fifteen minutes—quite a long time for a fast-moving mind. The most noticeable loss was her psi perception—it was a cold isolation, a powerful silence bringing Cass back to a solitary childhood. Every two minutes, a voice whispered: "Remain calm, the transfer is ongoing and proceeding smoothly." Inside her Armour, the Wau thought about Star Trek and Theseus.
Then her eyes opened. She was seated on a bench of white marble veined with grey, wearing a light, white and blue tunic that fluttered softly in a delightful breeze. Her bare feet rested on thick grass and warm soil, on a terrace overlooking an island with cypress trees, white square houses, umbrella pines, and, further out, the deep blue sea. Across from her stood a man with the innocent look of a minor movie character, dressed in a velvet jacket. He smiled, waiting for her to do something.
So, this is the After… She stood up. Her body felt lighter, her heart enthusiastic. Old age, whispered an AI from her Armour millions of light-years away in the server at Earth's core, was a new youth here.
She approached a bay leaf, vibrantly green. A perfect green, studied for centuries so that merely looking at it made a human brain feel good. She turned to the man, who gazed at her with a silly smile.
"Who are you?" "Welcome, Stella Nori."
She tilted her head, then understood: the Dark Unit had given her a false name. The man continued:
"I'm not human, but an AI whose purpose is to welcome you to the After. Do you feel okay?"
"I'm fine."
"No anxiety? Did the transfer go well?"
"I think so."
She held back the urge to scream that she was looking for Julia Prahi. Wait. Understand first, then act.
"I imagined the After would be bigger than this island," she confessed.
"If the After were a planet, it would be as large as a thousand suns. This is the world where humanity has lived its new life for almost fifteen hundred years."
"Wait, I thought the After had only existed for a few centuries?"
"We now emulate personalities from the past."
"What's this place called?"
"This island is yours. It's called Sanctuary Island. The Greek model is the default, but we have other styles: an English cottage, an asteroid apartment, an underwater bubble on Iris... Tell me if you'd like a list. If your stress levels rise above a certain threshold, or your virtualized physical integrity is threatened, we'll bring you back here safely and intact."
"But... we can't die here, right?"
"No. As a joke, we often say you can do everything here except one thing, and it's customary not to name that thing."
"I see a village down there, and inhabitants. AIs too?"
"Indeed. On your Sanctuary Island, you can invite friends, but in principle, it's your Sanctuary. The AIs here are mainly for your needs. You don't need to eat, since this realm is governed more by desire than necessity… but what's better than a delicious meal to make you happy?"
"What if I want to find others? I mean, people who transferred to the After like me?"
"First, Stella, it might be best for you to familiarize yourself better with your body."
Cass looked at her hands, assessed her muscles.
"I feel the same."
"The transition to the After removes certain defects—joint pain, metastases, improves your posture—but it's barely noticeable. Indeed, mind and body are closely linked, and you're emulated by a major AI, a clone of your brain, as well as two balance AIs to manage your emotions and your body. Think: 'I want to see my statistics.'"
She thought it, and transparently in her field of view appeared evaluations of her health, physical strength, reflexes, endurance… The guide continued:
"Ratings are out of 100. A healthy human is around 70. During your transition to the After, we gently raise these scores, day by day, toward 80."
Cass didn't comment, but all her ratings were between 180 and 350.
"Some games and free spaces disregard these constraints. But make sure to remain yourself often. Your personality's continuity depends on it. Now, I suggest a tour of the island. Shall I accompany you?"
"I'll be fine. Wait here."
She breathed in. Scents of resin and eucalyptus. Of iodine. Of a billionaire's summer vacation. She descended stone steps embedded in earth as a squirrel watched her pass. She parted palm and coconut leaves, reaching the village paved in white, open stained-glass windows, whitewashed walls, blue wooden interiors. A Titus cat, round-headed with large elongated, usually empathic eyes, black fur, rubbed against her legs. Busy AIs moved about—one hanging sheets, another unloading the day's catch.
A man her age, average but oddly reassuring and familiar, long-haired, eyes sparkling with intelligence, approached softly, offering to cook her dinner tonight. She felt almost paralyzed by a feeling never quite experienced—perhaps love—and struggled fiercely to remind herself he was the product of her unconscious desires and centuries of game design.
She ignored him, descending wooden stairs of smooth, varnished iroko, rough textured, toward the water. The sand was blond and silver, sprinkled with tiny dry round or conical shells. The sun was high but gentle. Waves softly matched her footsteps. The beach circled the island entirely. From here, it ironically resembled Böcklin's Isle of the Dead, with cypresses and a few red-roofed buildings.
She studied the water. Clear, lightly turquoise-green dotted with posidonia tufts, colorful fish, giant clams, then becoming deep blue, calming and foam-crested. The sea seemed immense, procedurally generated from her own mental patterns. A world shaped by my own mind, she thought.
The walk wasn't futile: gradually, she felt more in tune with herself. Humanity had been right not to await God and instead build its own paradise.
She returned to her welcoming AI.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, your advice was good. Tell me, how do I know if someone is an AI or human?"
"Squint your eyes."
She complied. Her guide glowed slightly red. Her own hand appeared faintly blue.
"Blue for humans, red for AIs, green for emulated ones."
"An emulated personality is reconstructed from data?"
"Yes, or if someone recently died without transferring, the LE usually provides nearly 99% of necessary data. There's no continuity of thought, but... it's rebirth."
"All right. Not to seem impatient, but how do I find others?"
"You need a map. Summon it mentally."
She did, and a physical map of an unknown world appeared.
The AI pointed out various places:
"This is the Sanctuary Islands archipelago. The map shows only about ten islands, but there's one for each inhabitant of the After, even the emulated ones. The large continent right next to it is Big City. It's a huge city that synthesizes, in a way, all the cities of the universe throughout history. It's the ultimate meeting place, and typically the first stop for newcomers in the After. On the outskirts of Big City extends a series of diverse lands and small villages, designed to appeal to explorers and tourists. That area is called the Unknown Territories. But if you miss the world of the SH, you can go here, on the other side of Big City, where there's a full-scale replica of all colonized worlds and some Xenos, connected by Entangled Gates. This place is known as HS2. Between you and me, it's not very popular, except among the nostalgic."
"No real Entangled Gates, right?"
"Indeed, they'd be pointless. You can teleport quite easily if the 'local rules' allow it. But in HS2, rules are kept close to those of life before. You see those big towers on the plain near the map's edge? Those are video games. Each has its own rules and worlds."
"Like Trust?"
"Trust is indeed very popular. Feel free to try it sometime."
Cass hadn't noticed it, but a moon hovered in the sky. When the AI grasped it, it revealed another moon behind it, which, by some trick of perspective, appeared larger.
"The After's twin moons. The smaller one is Abstract, the place for out-of-body experiences. You can become music, an animal, or a ray of sunlight. It's said to be fascinating, but I strongly advise against trying it too soon. First, get your bearings. Stay yourself for as long as possible. In any case, access is prohibited during your first year in the After. The other moon is Pax, the moon of the journey toward peace. Access to that one is restricted until you've been here ten years. Pax allows you to live someone else's life."
"You mean exchanging bodies with someone?"
"No. Your personality is saved, and then completely erased. You're immersed in a simulation where you live another human's life, randomly chosen from human history. You experience every second of their life from birth until death, without ever knowing you're in a simulation. Afterwards, enriched by that experience, your original personality is restored."
"I don't see the point."
"Neither do I, but I'm not like you, and I'll never experience Pax. That said, the fact is that after a few centuries, everyone ends up spending their days on Pax. This phenomenon is called the paradise paradox. We create a paradise, like this magnificent island. Everything is wonderful and perfect. But something is missing—an obstacle. You didn't fight to achieve it. Every day, everything is perfect without your having to struggle to get it. The minor paradox of paradise is that we add small obstacles to perfection to make it truly enjoyable. For example, one day, someone might say to you: 'We have nothing to eat today, can you help us go fishing?' You'll do it, and strangely, the fish caught through your effort will taste different. But what's the right balance of obstacles and victories? The answer: the same as in a standard, ordinary life. And thus, the sustainably eternal paradise paradox is: paradise is ideal only if it closely resembles human life. This, I believe, is why Pax exists and why it's so successful."
Cass pondered this thought deeply.
If the simulation on Pax is perfect, perhaps she had always been someone else living her life as a simulation on Pax.
Cassandra, if she were truly living her real life and not a simulation, would have lived her life just once, while trillions of humans would have experienced her life in simulations.
Statistically, the chance that she was genuinely herself at this very moment was incredibly small.
She dismissed these thoughts and declared:
"I want to go to Big City."
The AI smiled and replied, "You only had to say it aloud, like any other destination. Have a good journey."