Inverted Tower

One morning, Ada descended the pass of the great mountains, accompanied by two Xenos: Alpha, who followed with slow, long strides, and Kutkh, enjoying the warmth inside her hood.

As with every "spring" (there were three per HS standard year), the snow had melted rapidly, and the vividly colored flowers were reclaiming their territory.

The children spotted her first, and by the time they alerted the adults working in the greenhouses, the entire village had gathered in silence to await her return. Uncle Senga stood at the forefront, hands on his hips, his rifle slung across his back, as if witnessing the return of a ghost. Indeed, Ada was not returning weak and starving from lack of food or water but walking with a determined and energetic stride.

The young girl had no rebellious attitude toward the adults, even though Paul Jespersen looked visibly contrite. She was prepared to take responsibility for the damage to the greenhouse. The planetary guardian spoke first:

"Ada, you are welcome back to your village. First and foremost, given recent events, know that you are no longer under the guardianship of the Jespersens. I am officially relieving them of their duties, and you will now live under my roof. Secondly, we do not hold you responsible for the damage to the greenhouse. Lastly, I have a series of questions for you…"

"The Jespersens receive an allowance for my guardianship," Ada interjected suddenly, guided by a sudden intuition. "I want to receive it instead."

Senga turned toward Paul, who gave a reluctant nod.

"Very well. Now, regarding your departure: when you ran away three days ago… we followed your trail. We couldn't find you."

"Alpha carried me, I think."

"I mean, there was no trail. I have a tracking drone; it can locate life forms within 1,500 meters. You were invisible."

"Well… I don't have magical powers."

Senga shot Alpha a wary look, but the Xeno only returned his vacant stare. Kutkh decided to climb out of Ada's hood and perched on her shoulder, eliciting gasps of surprise from the children. Senga squinted at it.

"There are animals up there," Ada explained. "And drinkable water. And food. There's even a Xeno house."

"A Xeno civilization here?" Father Salute asked, crossing himself.

"I only saw the animals and a house."

The villagers collectively sighed with relief.

"Food and water," Senga finally said. "If that's true, Ada, you've saved us. Every cloud has its silver lining. I'm glad to have you back, my girl."

The day had grown warm, and Ada removed her coat. Paul Jespersen approached, mumbling apologies. The girl felt pity for him but didn't reply. If she could, she would never speak to him again, though his figure, wielding a shovel, would surely haunt her nightmares alongside the many tragedies of her past.

The planetary guardian's house was a relic of bygone luxury. The walls and colors were faded, and the furniture was ancient, yet it bore the eccentric charm of a millionaire's whim—one who had likely grown bored of their personal planet after only a few days. Now, Ada had her own room with a balcony overlooking the lake, a library filled with musty paper books, LED lamps from another era, a map of the planet adorning the wall, a soft bed with feathered quilts, and, most importantly, her own personal LE.

Alpha returned to farm work, much to Ada's reluctance, though she eventually accepted the situation given the massive cleanup required after the contamination of the soil. Kutkh, however, thrived in the house, sunbathing on the balcony or curling up near the LE's power supply.

Two days later, an expedition—comprising Senga, Sarah, the eldest Salute daughter known for her honesty and courage, Father Bihotz, and Ada as their guide—set out to reach the "Xeno plateau" where she had survived for three days.

The journey took several hours and was far more arduous on the ascent. The cold bit sharply as they crossed a recently thawed pass, and after navigating a mass of gray rocks, they reached the plateau. The stream was there, as were the feathered lizards.

Only the Xeno house was missing.

Senga knelt by the stream, analyzing a sample with a portable device. He did the same with the algae wafers. Once analyzed, he and his companions tasted them. Ada overheard their words, laden with a calm yet awe-filled excitement she had never experienced before.

"The plateau is high enough that cyanobacteria can't develop," Bihotz concluded.

"The water comes from melting glaciers. It's pure. So are the algae. I saw small insects, too," Senga added. "There's a whole ecosystem compatible with our biology. The xeno-biologists who surveyed this planet did a terrible job."

"Then," said Salute's daughter, "we can farm here. No need to import soil. Just seeds. Replant. Irrigate."

"This is far more than that, my friends," Senga said. "This is a habitable planet. We can bring tourists here. The SH will calculate new, shorter routes. You've always dreamed of building your church in the After. That became impossible. But now, you can build your church here."

"Saint Mary of Providence," Bihotz said, bursting into laughter.

"Saint Ada, rather," Senga murmured, glancing at the girl, who was searching the ground. "The patron saint of nuns. She discovered the water and the algae. Remember that. She doesn't know it yet, but she's going to receive a substantial reward from the HS for discovering a new, habitable world. Ada!"

Ada stared stubbornly at the ground. Senga approached her as Father Bihotz muttered, "It was right in front of us all along…." In the grass lay a perfectly smooth black stone with three sides.

"The Xeno house was here, Uncle," Ada said. "But now only this stone remains."

Senga parted the grass to reveal the stone. It was undoubtedly unnatural.

"Xeno presence, without a doubt. That xeno-biologist really botched the job."

"Guardian, there was an entire house! Whole!"

"And the Xenos took it away. It's strange, Ada, but not the strangest thing Xenos have done. I believe you about the house. They must be shy. I'm sure they're somewhere. Maybe they're even watching us right now."

"It was a stone house, Uncle. Super heavy."

"I'll bet we'll solve the mystery one day."

When Ada returned, she borrowed an old feather pen and ink from an antique ivory and redwood desk. She picked up a collection of poems titled The Legend of the Ages. Opening to the final poem, she read the words: The multiple being lives within my dark unity, which struck her so deeply that she considered the book special. In the margin beside the line, she began to carefully reproduce, from memory, the constellations of the Stellar Language she had spent hours contemplating.

As she worked, Ada addressed her LE:

"LE, I found a Xeno house on Clelia. There were words in the Stellar Language."

"I believe someone is playing a trick on you, Gorylkin. There is no Xeno civilization on Clelia; this is confirmed by the planet's exploratory reports. Would you like me to read the xenobiology report to you?"

"No. Another question. What does the symbol of an inverted Tower of Babel mean?"

"There is no known symbol representing an inverted Tower of Babel, Gorylkin. Perhaps you saw it on a flipped slab? Maybe it represents the head of a drill?"

"With a triangle next to it."

"I cannot assist you, Gorylkin."

The response was far too curt. Could Sol and her accomplices have censored the EVs this far out? And why censor these specific topics? Ada finished her manual copying and asked one last question:

"LE, I saw a house disappear. How do you explain that?"

As expected, the LE launched into a lengthy discussion of houses disappearing in various disasters, as well as fictional homes like those from The Wizard of Oz or Baba Yaga. "That's it," thought Ada. "The LE goes on endlessly about meaningless topics and references numerous sources—except when it comes to certain precise themes. I'm still being watched. I need to be careful."

That evening, Senga lounged in the first days of spring in the courtyard, lit by his tracking drone hovering nearby. He was reading The Necessary Otherness, a philosophical treatise written by a philosopher in a rudimentary After about human-Xeno relations, back when what would become the HS first encountered an extraterrestrial civilization. The mysterious millionaire who had built this villa had acquired a paper edition, which must have cost a fortune. Ada joined him and sat across from him.

"I have a question, Uncle. About the Tower of Babel. In the Xeno house, I saw an inverted Tower of Babel. What does that mean?"

Senga closed his book and placed it on the table. He looked at Ada with soft, thoughtful eyes.

"Ada, your curiosity... your intelligence... honors humanity on this planet. Of course, Xenos might have any number of interpretations regarding Babel. But let's stick with humans. In the Bible—"

"I've read it," Ada interrupted impatiently. "The Tower of Babel, people wanted to see God in the heavens, and He separated them by giving them different languages."

"Then you know it all. An inverted Babel, if we follow that thought, is the opposite: God bringing all creatures together under one language."

"But that's already the case, isn't it?"

"Yes, humanity has a single language today, with a few Xeno additions here and there."

A silence fell, and Senga sensed Ada wasn't satisfied at all. He sighed and added:

"Fortunately for you, I have a philosophical mind and enjoy pushing ideas as far as they can go. Let's consult"—he tapped his paper book on the table—"the thinkers and the Kabbalists. There's another interpretation of Babel. The holy text says that, in the time of Babel, people spoke with one voice. We can conclude they shared the same language, but not only that. Imagine a nation where every human dresses the same, does the same thing, thinks the same thing. Like ants. And like ants or termites, they build this great tower because they have a single idea in their minds. When God separates them, He doesn't just give them different languages; He teaches them difference. Humans become individuals, each unique, with their own aspirations, desires, and freedom. What seems like a punishment is the gift that allows us to grow as a civilization."

"So the inverted tower is the return of the ants? We all become the same again?"

"If that's the case, it's not very desirable, is it? Even though..." (Ada was already shouting, "Even though what?") "...the Transients have told us about our future. They say civilizations plunge into the After, the After dematerializes, all Afters from all civilizations unite, and by becoming one, we become Transients."

Ada murmured the verse from The Legend of the Ages: The multiple being lives within my dark unity. She added:

"And do the Transients always tell the truth?"

"Let's say we've never been able to catch them in an error or a lie. They're very intelligent, Ada, and that's the problem: if they lie, we'd never know."

Kutkh climbed down from the balcony and nestled into Ada's lap for warmth.

"Uncle. Planetary Guardian. I'm going to tell you something. I don't like the people of the Human Society. But I like you. And Sky too. And Alpha as well, but he doesn't count. That's it."

Senga considered her for a moment with the eyes of a priest and then with the gaze of a judge. He thought about how Ada would grow, how she would become dangerously intelligent and powerful, and how she might one day lead wars as a tyrant.

"First," he said after some thought, "be cautious with Sky. He's practical and, I'd even venture to say, has a good heart. But I know of certain infractions he's committed—Alpha's presence here is one of them—and I wouldn't recommend trusting him unreservedly. Second, Ada, I want you to remember something. You'll face situations where you'll have the choice to seek revenge because people like Paul Jespersen or other villains will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life—or to forgive. If you can, and if you care about me, Ada, try to choose forgiveness. I'm not saying this for Paul or the HS, Ada. I'm saying it for you. Because I care about you too."

She threw herself into his arms to hug him. It was an immense and gentle sensation, one she hadn't felt since realizing that Léon would always be hers.

Later that night, as the cool solitude of evening descended, Ada leaned her forehead against the window leading to her balcony. She had never thought of revenge before; it wasn't a concept in the League's fiction or the culture of the Shareplace. But she had absorbed the idea through stories like The Crew of Captain Wau. In the container village far away, a small light shone in the window of Paul and Marie's room. Ada could have silently taken Senga's MAR, taken the time to aim carefully—perhaps resting it on the balcony rail, right there—and bang. No more Paul Jespersen. Like a hypnotic drug, vengeance promised her the peace she desperately craved. Paradoxically, her protector's plea for peace had sparked her first clear, structured, and implacable desire for violence.

QUESTION OF THE DAY WITH INGO IZAN

"It's now time for the question of the day, and I'm joined live from Earth by Dian, the director of the UniPsi in Munich. The slightly unusual appearance of our guest's face isn't due to makeup or illness—it's the result of aging. Indeed, Dian is elderly, much older than most citizens of the HS. Today's question, Dian, is precisely about life expectancy: without the After, how long could an HS citizen expect to live?"

"This is an interesting question because nowadays, people no longer die of old age, except in rare religious communities on Jerimadeth. Scientists estimate that with current genetic protections, a human can expect to live between 120 and 180 years on average, maybe longer if their mental health holds up. However, the main obstacle to aging is the After. After all, why continue living in the SH, with its daily annoyances, when paradise is within reach?

"When the After became fully developed 450 years ago, the population plummeted drastically—some people transferred into the After on the very day they reached the age of majority. Today, we've regained some balance, and most citizens transfer around the age of 50, when the process is fully funded by the HS. We've also gained time by clearly separating the After from the SH, making each world mysterious to the other—and people fear the unknown.

"However, there's another limit, known as the 'blue limit'—so named because it appears blue in psychic readings. There's an age, roughly 90 years, where the brain simply has had enough of life. It no longer wishes to survive itself. We believe this is a process inherited from ancient times, ensuring that the oldest wouldn't cling to life and burden society. In any case, once past the blue limit, we lose the citizen, as they often refuse to upload to the After. For this reason, we have social workers dedicated to monitoring aging populations to preserve them. In the end, even though we can live longer, life expectancy hasn't significantly evolved since the industrial era."

"This leaves me with one question, Dian: why aren't you already in the After?"

"I'm one of those who likes to keep all doors open, all possibilities on the table. Sure, you can return from the After, but since it's rare, and I'll have plenty of time to enjoy it when the moment comes, I continue my life here."