Tales of the Wheel

A Change of Perspective

Summer, Earth Year 1927 BCE- Underground Ruins, Planet Xor’ Tothos

“…Precognition. All available scenarios are recalculated based on the updated data provided. The answer remains unchanged. The non-cultivated development of Precognition in humanity anytime within the first Galactic year of sapience of the Homo Genus results in a complete destruction of linear barriers within the time flow.”

Deep within the decayed ruins of an alien civilization that fell hundreds of years before pastoral farming on Earth became widespread across the Eurasian steppes, Wheel Lead Agent Johnathan Coldfire reviewed the latest unaltered timeline scans. He was getting the skinny directly from the source. Mr. Eye’s “visage”, aka a large round red dot that periodically changed shape as it spoke was projected on a monitor that hovered just above his head. Just how any of the tech in this old tomb still worked was a mystery Mr. Eye had not been fully willing to share yet. But, after several months of secret meetings Coldfire was convinced, this little sanctuary was indeed hidden from Listening and Observation, at least for now.

“So, the conclusion yet again, despite the Hub’s actions making the tyranny of the Wheel increasingly untenable, life still can’t survive without the Wheel. The bloody Catch 22!” Coldfire huffed. The results were never surprising, just increasingly tiresome. So far ‘going rouge’ to help mitigate the innate corruption at the heart of the Wheel had primarily consisted of clandestine meetings with his ancient machine “buddy” here in super villain style lairs like this and sweating his way through conversations with the various Six Directors without looking like he was sweating his way through them.

“It was always going to be the case, John.” Mr. E’s slightly off brand documentary style voice sounding like a 21^st century South African accent that the average listener would mistake for a British one. “The fact the Council of Five and the Directors regularly use their own abilities to quietly manipulate the Novikov self-consistency principle to ensure their version of the linear dominates does not negate the fact unregulated use of Precognition to alter future outcomes always leads to disaster. Often it eventually results in a group of post humans shattering quantum realities in random pursuits of power or…”

“Yes, I get that E,” John interrupted, “The Wheel uses small loopholes to maintain a quiet but firm grip but smashing through the principle completely is devastating.” The choice between control by competent Tyrants or the randomization that often produces mad men is a bitter pill that humanity has had to swallow for most of its existence, Coldfire thought. John had some firsthand experience with the dangers of the ‘random’, being born in 2342 in the Kuiper Belt during the heart of a roughly one hundred period history has dubbed, (or will dub depending on your perspective), “The Long Night”. The Martian Consortia had completely dominated the failing Earth Alliance in a brief, but blood soaked 3-year war, ending the Alliance’s overlordship over humanity’s affairs, but they were unable to land a finishing blow. Even as Earth itself fell, most of the rest of the Solar system were not inclined to simply hand the reins of power to the corporations of Mars. Instead, former Alliance officials, corporate bodies, military officers and local criminals started seizing small bits of territory for themselves, declaring new fiefdoms and forming their own local governments.

What followed was a true dark age of petty space tyrants, brutal guerilla conflicts, blood stained uprisings and unjustified massacres. The Consortia found itself embroiled in decades of continued conflict while attempting to stamp out what they termed as “local resistances and uprisings to their rightful authority”. John was born in one of these “Gangster Kingdoms”, a fifteen-year experiment in governance that was in deep trouble even before the Consortia finally came knocking, Coldfire had to admit he couldn’t even remember the name of the territory off the top of his head.

None of that mattered to the then six-year-old John of course. When a brutal 5-day bombardment from Consortia forces finally put an end to said fifteen-year experiment, the Universe marked young John as dead and as buried under the rubble as his parents and moved on. Of course, the Universe had not been aware that John had been flagged for extraction by the Wheel at the point of his “inevitable” linear death. Calculations had revealed that had John lived, he would have developed substantial Esper abilities, his mother being born with minor Telepathic powers herself.

Pulled from his time at his point of death and raised in Twilight City on the Wheel itself, John’s powers manifested in his early teens and then the training that made him one of the Wheels top temporal agents began in earnest. He obviously was not the only agent recruited in this fashion, but it had taken John several years to realize the reality of the “benevolence” behind the Wheel’s saving himself and others from their point of death. It was always children who were declared dead. There was no longer any time where they could exist and no place to go but the Wheel itself. Young boys and girls who could be molded into the perfect soldiers for the Wheel. After all, Coldfire mused, often we like to pretend there is a distinct difference between education and indoctrination. But the line between the two is far, far thinner than anyone usually wants to admit.

Approaching his 48^th life year, his unassuming 5’11 stature masked the strength of his thin but still steely limbs. Past his physical prime for sure, as happens to all life, his training and skill ensured he could still outfight most men half his age. Light brown skin with short salt and pepper hair and a classic strong jaw line, he was handsome enough, but it was his intense stare, backed by his Esper abilities, that could dominate a room more than anything else.

“The important thing John,” Mr. Eye interrupted Coldfire’s rare trip down memory lane, “Is now that the Directors believe you can be trusted with the highest tier of recruitment, we can finally engage in actual counter action. This mission is the real beginning.” Coldfire’s response spilled out with more venom than he’d consciously intended. “So, we adopt the same tactics of the Directors and recruit or own ‘young and dumb’ then!” The eternal patience in Mr. Eye’s voice could be sooooo annoying. “John, she will join anyway eventually. The timeline indicates this within a ninety two percent certainty. We simply want to ensure that there is a counter narrative to the standard Wheel propaganda that she is aware of when she makes the decision. Projections indicate a high probability she will come to the same conclusions we have very early into her service. Those odds will only increase if you handle the rest of this mission correctly.”

“Great, no pressure then. Don’t forget Saunders is literally breathing down my neck on this one.” Coldfire retorted, but with less fire now than his previous outburst. He and Mr. Eye often took turns questioning the direction of their little scheme. It’s likely the main reason they hadn’t been exposed yet. The Eye calmy responded, “You know a well as anyone that the nature of her potential will automatically draw Director notice. This is a rare circumstance, the first for the linear you, but a standard response from the Hub. I understand your concern completely, but my experience with all that was, could be and will be assures me they are completely unaware of our true intentions at this time.”

“Let me also add,” The ancient construct continued, “Fortunately, this appears to be no reflection on Saunders confidence in you. It appears she is using this opportunity to test another agent’s ‘fitness’ for a promotion to the Senior level. This is an opportunity for our cause as well.” It was true that the concern with a variant colliding with the original in their lifeline led to this pause and the need to replace Adachi. “Lewis? I think they are bringing in Agent Lewis, right? How does it help us by replacing someone on this mission we know we can trust like Hiroshito with a normie agent like Lewis?”

What might seem like a standard response to most from Mr. Eye held a genuine hint of irritation and exasperation to Coldfire’s ears. “Firstly, the idea of calling an agent a “normie”, i.e. and non-extinguished or non-variant agent who can live within their time stream is a concoction of the Hub to keep you all separated. Be ever wary of your own indoctrination. Secondly, he rightly despises the Hub for certain, but that is the only thing we can trust about Adachi. If his hatred goes, so does his reliability. Never forget that. Thirdly, there are a few paths where Agent Lewis could become a problem if we are not careful, but in no feasible scenario does she ever become a puppet, for the Hub or for us. At this stage she does not think much of me, but I like her a lot. More of you flesh sticks should function like her. Then humanity’s claims of individuality and awareness would be more consistent.”

“Okay, Okay E. Forget I said anything about Lewis.” Sheesh, Coldfire thought, this thing is getting salty in its old age. “We’ve got time to review what happened on Mars before the briefing. It’ll help us keep the story straight. Before I lay it out though, what degree of certainty do we have that none of the others have discovered either her, or the stated “on paper” objective of the mission?”

“Of the Three Giants, the Taskmaster and the Withered do not appear as a factor in over 99.97% of outcomes. The Hub and I see no indication of the Dream Strider either, but her program has either already or will at some point go full ‘ghost in the machine’. Admittedly this makes extremely difficult to keep tabs on where or when her location is for very long.” “Those are great odds with the other two at least.” John noted. The other two rouge programs were in different ways blunt instruments compared to their ‘sister’, but all three could be very dangerous. The Withered in particular seemed genuinely capable of hate.

“Now as to the King in Rags…” The Red dot shifted a couple times as though it was reprocessing some data, “I’ve collated with the Hub’s own scans, which are always slightly inferior to my own, and there is no indication of any direct action. However, what the Hub misses and I can detect is a… let us call it a strong echo of presence during the same timeframe as the operation, or within the same decade at least. I do not believe he is aware of or set to interfere with this operation, but he could be up to something else that overlaps with the same time. I am constantly keeping an eye out for more echoes.” Unless the Directors were keeping the knowledge secret, always a possibility Coldfire thought, The King in Rags’ actual identity was still unknown. His moniker came from interrogating his agents, but one thing everyone seemed to agree on is that he was likely a very powerful esper born sometime in the late 29^th or early 30^th centuries.

“And the Old Machines?” John asked. “Even less indication of interference than the Giants.” Mr. E atoned. “However, John, one must always remember they are always watching and always listening. Despite our best security measures, we can’t truly know how much they actually see and hear.” The Old Machines had ruled Galaxies and ended empires for centuries already when we were inventing the printing press. Along with the destruction caused by unfiltered Precognition, preparing humanity to withstand the inevitable march of the Old Machines was the primary reason for the formation of the Wheel. He vividly remembered something E had told him a few years ago when they were discussing emotions. “So, you can feel fear?” John had asked. “Perhaps feel in the wrong term John. But I do understand fear. I do know fear. Take the Old Machines for example. At their core they are pure Intelligence and pure purpose, but without an ounce of awareness. I know that is a truly terrifying thing.”

Thinking too much about the Old Machines always left John with a headache and a small but steadily creeping sense of futility. Whole Galaxies turned into massive technological ecosystems. Bells, whistles and lights so bright they could be detected from other galaxies. But dead, everything dead. Not a speck of biological life left in any of their vast territories. The existential dread of an overpowering and relentless foe that not only didn’t care at all about what it did to you, but likely wasn’t even aware of its own actions is a lot for most human minds to handle if they think too much about it.

“Focus Johnathan!” Coldfire thought, “Okay E, lets go over Mars.” He smiled a little sheepishly and added, “Maybe you’ll have some ideas on how I can salvage a bit of dignity when I get to the part about getting my ass handed to me by a 12-year-old girl.”