"First question: so you have messed with my life before?"
"No, Philbert, absolutely not. The whole point has been to witness your growth."
"So why now?"
"Because you have an important choice coming up. The path ahead is an important one, and I’m here to help you take the best one."
"So you are like my guardian angel?" Philbert asked, a bit sarcastically.
"That is a big question to answer in time. For now, can we just trust each other? It’s not fair that I know nearly everything about you but you know almost nothing about me. Let’s fix that as much as we can," Passant said, pausing in the way that very old, very wise beings pause when they are deciding how to say "sort of."
"It’s hard to trust you when you are so evasive."
"Yes, I understand that, but I am here to help you. Please have patience."
"Are you like a God?"
"God, the most abused word on the planet. If you ask a billion humans to define the word, you will get a billion different answers. Again, please call me Passant."
"OK."
"I don’t mean to be insulting, but in geological time humans are barely beyond the apes. You both use tools, you both have primitive cultures, and you both are barely out of the caves. Humans are like babes in the woods, so your question about God seems childlike to me," Passant patiently explained.
"Philbert my boy, you have had a big day. Your heart rate has been all over the map; it’s time for a break. We’ll continue this tomorrow."
"OK, Passant."
"Jeez, where did the day go?" he lamented.
It had been days since he had fixed real food, so he thawed a steelhead fillet and steamed some broccoli. It was a good distraction.
Philbert was accepting the obvious, that Passant was something from beyond his understanding. This understanding did not help the queasy feeling that he was in over his head.
Da Baa was required for his mental health tonight. As soon as he walked in, he could hear Manny’s voice ranting and Timmay’s voice slurring.
Timmay blurted out, "You must be drunk, you’re all blurry."
"There’s Manny!" he said, ignoring Timmay for the time being.
"Hey, Bertus, how’s it going?" Where Manny had come up with that nickname, Philbert could never figure out.
Manny was an interesting character that Philbert had known since grade school. Most times he was fun to be around. His quick humor always made him the center of attention. At one moment he could be brash and loud, and the next moment insightful and attentive. He poked fun at everyone, including himself. His friends ran the gamut of life: old, young, brown, or white, and even the bar’s resident cross-dresser.
Manny’s worldview, however, was narrow and bigoted. His opinions were seldom backed by any real-world evidence. He was just ignored when he went off on these tirades, as Manny did tonight.
Philbert got his beer and went straight to the patio. Thankfully, Lou was there alone.
"Hey buddy, how’s life?"
"I have no idea."
Philbert talked for a half an hour about testing for malware, cutting power to the shop, and the conversations with the voice.
"Lou, this is not a hacker. Passant knows too much about everything."
"Oh, so now you have a pet name for it?" Lou responded.
"That’s what it wants to be called, and I really don’t care."
"So I’ve got a question for you, Al. Do you hear this voice outside of the shop too?"
"I am not going schizo on ya, Betty. I don’t know what Passant is, but I do know that it is real, maybe some kind of A.I.," Philbert pointedly exclaimed.
"OK, OK, dude. Look, I have good reason to be concerned. Other than your occasional confusion over women, you have never been this stressed out. So far you have been the only one to hear the voice. Doesn’t that raise red flags for you?"
"Hell yes. But I’ve done everything that I can to prove that Passant is a scam. Nothing, nada."
"Not everything, man. You need to record its voice for others to hear." Lou suggested this with characteristic practicality.
Lou had the kind of practical mind that, when presented with a miracle, immediately asked whether it had been peer-reviewed.
"I did think about that, but Passant seems to know every move that I make, including what goes on here and elsewhere. It would know."
"Yes, maybe, but would it care?"
"I’ll give it a try tomorrow."
The evening progressed as usual. Two beers and out was the rule.
Philbert always had a digital recorder handy in the house so that he could make notes for things to do later in the shop. After his regular morning of coffee and a quick bowl of cereal, he turned the recorder on and went up to the shop.
"Good morning Passant," he baited.
No sound. He checked the status lights and power, all good. He turned the recorder off.
"Good morning, you stink pot. We had a nice talk about trust, and then what’s the first thing that you do? Distrust."
"Who does not trust enough will not be trusted." — Lao Tzu
"Sorry," Philbert replied meekly.
"Lou thinks that I’ve gone nutty and that I’m hearing voices in my head. It was his suggestion, and I respect that."
"It’s good that he is concerned, but our talks must remain between us," Passant directed.
"I still don’t get the need for such secrecy."
"Think about what would happen if you went public with all of this. You are right that people would ask questions, but it’s bigger than that. You have made contact with an advanced lifeform. It would cause a firestorm of press coverage, demands for interviews, and camera crews following your every move. Who knows what the government and the military would do? Every tech firm on Earth would surveil you in ways that you can’t even imagine."
Of course, Passant was right.
"But for right now, let’s work the problem with Lou. You two have been playing chess for decades. How often do you beat Lou?"
"Basically never," Philbert responded, somewhat embarrassed.
"We need to convince Lou that you are at your peak intellectually and that I am explainable. Set up a match with him for tomorrow. Leave one of your earbuds on your workbench tonight, and I’ll take care of the rest. We’ll talk tomorrow, bye-bye," said Passant with the sound of a tire screech.
Philbert called it a day, went down to the house, and called Lou.
"Hey man, we have not played chess for a while, and it might be a good distraction for me. It’s the weekend; can you play tomorrow?"
"You bet. I’ll do munchies; you bring beer."
Philbert took the morning off and only went up to the shop for the earbud. It was a nice day, so he decided to walk to Lou’s house. On the way he turned the earbud on and put it in.
"Hey spud, how’s your day?" was Passant’s greeting.
"Way cool! You are now mobile. Do I even ask how you do this? What is the plan?"
"Well, you can ask, but the plan is this: Lou knows that you have a weakness for classical music, Modest Mussorgsky in particular. That is your excuse for the earbud. With my prompting, you are going to win every game today, and he will be suspicious. When he calls you on it, just give him the earbud; all that he will hear is Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition."
The walk only took 18 minutes, and he was greeted at the door by Lou with an open beer for him. "How’s Philbert today?"
"I’m doing well, slept for nine hours, and woke with clarity. I’ve decided to just go with the flow and trust my Better Angels." Philbert wondered if angels can be morons too.
"What’s up with the earbud?"
"Libby suggested that some music might help me relax," he lied.
Philbert related the failure of the digital recorder experiment.
"Whatever dude, let’s play."
They played timed games. Thirty seconds per move.
"Checkmate, good game."
"Checkmate, good game."
"Checkmate. Holy shit man, you have never, ever beaten me like this before. Do you have some kind of A.I. in that fucking earbud?"
Philbert handed him the earbud. Lou listened for a minute. Flustered, he gave the earbud back.
They played for the regular three-beer limit and then called it quits.
"Philbert, I can’t tell you how comforting today has been. I mean, you have always been a little quirky, but not near so far out there," Lou said.
"Well, thanks man, I appreciate your advice and support, but I do have a favor to ask."
"Anything bud."
"I feel good, but I’m going full tilt boogie. Please don’t spread it around about the Passant thing. People would ask questions that I can’t answer, and that would be an unnecessary burden that I don’t have the mental collateral to deal with right now.
Passant may be some A.I. injection or virus. It’s impossible to make these systems secure these days. Passant, so far, hasn’t indicated any malign intentions, and frankly it is rather entertaining. It will all come out in the wash."
"You got it." Lou was a man of his word.
With a bit of a buzz, he started walking home when Passant’s voice piped up.
"That went well, and good call to swear Lou to secrecy."
"Thanks, but I don’t like deceiving him, and I still don’t fully understand the secrecy and opaqueness," Philbert lamented.
"Libby is waiting for you at the house, and you should take the rest of the day off and relax," Passant recommended.
"OK."
This Sunday was bright and calm, which helped with his mood. Philbert did his due diligence for the morning, then headed up to the shop.
"Good morning, kiddo, you sound better today," greeted Passant.
"I woke with an idea. Over coffee I made a list of questions. It would comfort me to get as many answered as you can," said Philbert.
"Here’s where it’s at for y’all. Friday, you accepted the logic behind my explanation about why we need secrecy with this project. I can tell you why I will not answer many questions, and if you accept my argument, then the result will be better questions. OK?"
"You bet!"
"It roughly translates to the Perfect Father Concept. Parents will loom over a baby to protect the child from its own ignorance and vulnerability. The child will learn the basics: fire burns, knives cut, and for goodness’ sake, don’t run with scissors."
"But at a certain point, the child must be allowed to choose its own path, to make its own mistakes, and learn from them. Every child is different; one may be attracted to math, one may be attracted to sports, one may enjoy building things. There will be false starts, bumps and bruises, and embarrassments. This is how we grow into unique persons. This is also how life evolves from single-cell organisms to unique intelligent beings."
"We can help humans to a point, but you must be allowed to mature on your own path. You must suffer the bumps and bruises; you must feel the triumphs without undue influence from the outside," Passant explained patiently.
"Who is the ‘we’ you referred to?" Philbert asked.
Passant ignored the question and continued.
"Humans are in what we call the Age of Hubris. You use terms like ‘apex species’ and ‘top of the food chain.’ You have declared yourselves gods, or claimed that you are made in the image of God. You think that you have dominion over Earth and the life upon it. You do not. Other species were not consulted.
This is a common step in the advancement of any intelligent species, but it must be quickly followed by the acceptance that all life is a continuum. The failure to take this step inevitably leads to extermination."
"Dear Lord, we humans are on the verge of extinction?" Philbert had always hoped that if humanity were ever given this verdict, it would come with more syllables.
"Yes. You humans are pointing weapons at each other that would extinguish all life on Earth. You selfishly rape this planet for resources without regard for the future or the impact on other life.
Your leaders strive not for the well-being of all but for the dominance of a perceived superior class.
You humans also have all of the needed tools, all of the needed knowledge, and all of the needed resources to eliminate all suffering on Earth, but not the wisdom.
You have everything needed to protect the miracle of life on Earth. You have everything needed to protect this beautiful planet. You have also developed the cultural beliefs, the Higher Human Values, that could save you.
But these tools and this knowledge are not being shared. Your businesses selfishly protect methods to produce products efficiently. Your governments jealously guard information in the name of national security. Your political parties reject out-of-hand the beneficial ideas of other parties. Your religions reject out-of-hand the beneficial philosophies of other religions. You collect vast amounts of knowledge for the sole purpose of exploiting the weaknesses of others.
Humans behave like little children playing with dangerous tools. Children who will not share their toys.
The desire to have more and be better has served humanity well over the eons, but it has gone too far. There are those among you who will oppress others to get more for themselves. Wealth and power are like an addictive drug. Lies and violence are tools to continue the addiction.
These animal instincts still guide you, and this is what must change if you are to survive the Age of Hubris," Passant ended with the sound of a grunt.
"Damn man, now I feel like crawling into a cave or putting a gun to my head," Philbert said with exasperation.
"NO! That is the nihilist in you. You are not alone in understanding these things. Many others around the globe understand as well. The purity of it can and must spread like wildfire. Other advanced races have done it. Others have failed. Your job is to start the fire," Passant said.
"My job? How many advanced races are there?"
"We don’t know."
"How many advanced races are on Earth now?"
"Won’t say.
I can do this much, however: I’ve uploaded a document that outlines the critical steps that advanced life must take to survive. There is nothing new here. Your scientists and wise men and women have known all of this for many generations.
You seem to trust me a bit, so I’ll tell you something that may be disturbing to you. I am here as a representative of an advanced race, the Fen. I am not A.I. or a space alien. I am not a God or an angel. We need your help."
"Why me? What could I possibly do?" said Philbert in a pleading voice.
"That, dear Philbert, is up to you."
He scanned the documents that Passant put on his computer and could feel the tension building again. It was a feeling of vertigo, like standing at the edge of a cliff.
"You have had enough for the day, my boy. Bye-bye," Passant said with the sound of a balloon deflating.
Later, Libby came over with carry-out food. They hunkered in together, chatted about how her day went, and watched some goofy cat videos. Not a mention was made of Passant or the Array.
"I have a surprise for you," she said toward the end of the evening.
Libby’s purse was a multi-dimensional anomaly. Libby pulled a package out of it and handed it to him.
In the package were airline, hotel, and car reservations. There were receipts for his camping stove fuel, trail food, and supplies. They had been purchased and were waiting at the outfitter’s shop.
"You need this. It has been three years since you’ve been in the wild. Passant and the Array can wait; you need to find your center and return with clarity."
"Have you been talking to Lou? He thinks that I’m loopy too."
She was right, and he was somewhat disturbed that he didn’t think of it himself.
"Thanks, sweetheart, this is really something. Your wisdom is immutable as usual," Philbert said, with tears in his eyes.
Different emotions are dealt with in different pockets of the human brain. Every one of them was full in Philbert’s brain today.
The Buddhists say that we bring most of our pain upon ourselves. Philbert was in the kind of pain caused by confusion.