Diaspora: A Novel by Greg Egan

Author:Greg Egan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 0061057983
Publisher: Eos
Published: 1997-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

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

A n 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.

Two chimes would have meant that this clone of Carter-Zimmerman had reached a planetary system devoid of life. Paolo had run a sophisticated-hut nonsentient-self-predictive model before deciding to wake under those conditions. Exploring a handful of alien

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