Paris, France

October 31, 2072

(21 days to the Sixth Attraction)

Francois Copland the Fields Medal recipient was biting his nails, microphone in hand as he awaited the cue from the television producer. The room behind the curtain was buzzing with excitement. He was, to say the least, exhilarated. The mathematician knew being given this type of stage was an honor given to a scientist only every century or two. In this 21th Century, he was, to memory, the first asked to stand before the whole human race, and speak because of what he knew and not who he was.

Who could have predicted that in 2072, at the heart of a strange video game, science would shine over such things as sports or television. Last time his kind was in the news, Los Alamos was toying with radioactive mushroom clouds and Richard Feynman was concluding on the cause of the destruction of a space shuttle. Politicians, athletes, and ordinary workers were powerless and looked today to intelligent minds.

Brute human force was no match to the mysterious causes linked with the Sixth Attraction; no military mind disputed that. Guns, battleships and lasers were not relevant in this story. Marilyn, the first human-made online juggernaut had morphed and grew in power so much, she could swat a nuclear strikes and moved cosmological singularities.

This wasn’t an elaborate dream. Aliens were floating in symbiotic relationship in human minds. Eyes up, a part of the core of the sun was en route to strike the earth as retribution of reckless technology. There also were the strange Rho waves, Sophie's distance from earth amplified her unique gift. They made her priceless in more ways. Humans felt the sheer calming power the orphan radiated as the Multiverse awoke.

Francois felt, like everyone else, the energy building in the fabric of the world. Imperceptible but incontestable, something called an Attraction was approaching. But the man also felt there was hope. Sophie, the young girl had purpose. Looking at the assembled greatness, Francois was proud. If the universe had to end, this was an elegant way.

The plain-looking intellect received his Fields medal for a variant of the fractal theory used to alter time-variants at the edge of the chaos theory. Today, two doctorates deep, he still felt ignorant and knew he was a child compared with the powers around. The recent jousts between Liam and Marilyn, the creatures with superhuman intelligence showed much greater things. He was, proverbially, only human and that gave him pause.

His gift as a man of numbers stemmed from his capacity to abstract the world and see things on a different plane of existence, but today even the greatest minds were humbled before the power brewing on the horizon. The man held up his cupped hand and checked his breath nervously as if that mattered.

Behind, President Emilio understood and respected him, that was his greatest pride. Francois' heart was beating out of his chest, but in fairness, no one in the room was calm. Today's online audience was expected to top seven billion. Unlike most humans, he had a better idea of how large this number was and that scared him. To help visualize huge or strange numbers, he used probabilities. Draws of a typical die was his favorite. He saw the billions at home holding a six-sided die. Each rolled and those having rolled a six remained as most vanished. After the first roll the billion left rolled again and again until one remained. The number was so large that thirteen draws would be required before a handful of viewers remained. To most, the number of thirteen was abnormally small, to Francois, it was insanity.

He loved numbers.

The room fell silent as the lights dimmed. Next to him was a large curtain, two chairs to the side and a table with a handheld microphone from the last Century. The black microphone with the rounded metal grill was the gifted orator’s weapon of choice and Emilio insisted it was there.

Francois' mind wandered but this time away from simple numbers. The audience today was here to watch his speech, Emilio’s and then View Round 28, which was an hour away. Gone was the CNN crawlers and brainless anchors. Knowing Marilyn, the latest show would be even more exceptional than Round 27 when 64 players were to visit the Purple, a neighboring quantum world.

The notion anyone had something more important to do and had missed the last round was shocking to him and a testament to human stupidity. Round 27 would surely only be outshined by what would come next. Marilyn's computational power was used to help Laurent and Emilio, or other players guide Sophie to the Purple to rescue earth from a molted ball of heliocorium.

Sophie, the young darling, ignored the simulations and took a different route. What she did was unexpected. No other human could have ignored the computer's guidance and doomed earth to what looked now like assured destruction, but instead she wanted information and spoke with the Multiverse herself.

Sophie Lapierre acted like an Avatar, free from obligations. She had no master. She kidnapped Marilyn and Liam, entered a place called the Underworld. There, she spoke directly and as an equal to the Multiverse. At first, it was as if she did not care about the earth's assured destruction. But once the voyage ended, it all made perfect sense. Sophie was an anti-hero. While everyone's focus was the Multiverse and their own survival past the Sixth Attraction, her focus centered on her father’s true well-being which included his death. Sophie was alone in her disconnect from the physical world. She cared, she felt and loved Laurent unconditionally, the rest was, well, the rest.

Upon their return, Sophie insisted once again Marylin play their escapade in full to humans. The computer woman did to the best of her ability. Sophie was documenting and involving humanity for an unknown reason.

Pundits spoke at length about how the runner-up, Laurent could at any moment ask his daughter to save him and the world, but they also knew the father-daughter relationship was extraordinary. There was an accord, Laurent would never stoop so low as to ask anything from his beloved girl. He would die before placing any burden on her. Laurent loved Sophie, he owed her the world and most figured he was alive only thanks to her power. That probably was true.

The choice of this half-sized human by the Multiverse as Attractor now made perfect sense. She was unique in so many ways. Sophie was incorruptible, unwavering, and her outlook on life was unique. Sophie would never judge humanity or place it above the Multiverse itself. The girl did not take sides; she embodied neutrality.

***

Francois' wandering mind returned. The finale of the game was 21 days away, 32 players remained including Emilio and Laurent, the clear front-runners. Today’s round was the 28th of 32; after it, four only remained. Electoral's massive advertising plastered over every media claimed today’s simulation today would dwarf last week's in every aspect including its interplanetary importance; whatever that meant. What could be better than traveling to a different dimension, discovering alien quantum life and in the process helping Sophie save earth from destruction.

Francois looked behind the curtain at the narrowness of the wooden stage and the quickly rising rows of benches. Three hundred people in the audience were packed in the small venue ready for greatness. The producer standing on the side signaled him to wait another thirty seconds. Francois tapped the microphone to see if it worked — there was sound.

The room was beautiful. In this venue, France's domination of the Renaissance period and its architecture was at its apex. There were gold highlights on every piece of wood of the law amphitheater of the Sorbonne. The room was part of the law program which had gladly opened its door to science for this important event.

The majestic hall was the perfect setting for what would come next. Finally the curtain lifted, and no one dared applaud. Francois loved scientists, the weight of the interstellar events extinguished any excitement. There was respect and caution in this room. Behind him, a large white screen dropped from the ceiling. Technology and even liquids were prohibited on the school grounds, except for one bottle of Scotch Whiskey for the man himself. That was fine; the mathematician knew Emilio was old fashion in this way. Since the event was by invitation only, no one would object.

On the stage, to the right stood at a canted angle one of the large glass tubes materialized from mars. Emilio was supposed to get into it and play in about an hour, and apparently, he would also benefit from this advanced technology. Everyone wondered how Marilyn built a tube on earth. Looking at it, there was no discernible evidence the materials making the chamber were from mars or digitally enhanced. This looked normal.

Finally, the cue came. Francois stepped to the front center stage as most doctorate teachers, awkwardly. The mathematician waived the laser pointer in his hand and clicked to confirm it worked. The slides behind him were also ready to go. On the podium rested a stack of cards and a pen as the President requested.

Two hundred guests packed the room in complete silence. Each had been hand-picked by the President himself. Francois, the Mandelbrot chair, saw Emilio getting ready off-stage in his peripheral vision. His friend sent him two thumbs-up as he glanced over. Sitting on the first row to the left were his friends from the Scientific Advisory Committee. They each had a microphone. Behind them sat a row of journalists from every major news outlet; they understood they were observers to what had to unfold. All other available seats were occupied by the most brilliant post-doctorate graduates flown in from around the world. Those who did not speak

English had a translator earbud. Each student was instructed to go to one of the three standing microphones reserved for them. For some strange reason, they'd been told the President needed their help.

"Ladies and gentlemen of science," began Francois, "we cannot ignore the most recent events as they unfold on television. They touch each of us in different ways. While we can't agree on who are the exact protagonists of this story, we can't agree on villains and good guys; we know the principal actors. Sophie and Marilyn take center stage; two women rebutting any argument that women stand on a lower rung in society than men. The fact is, Marilyn has power beyond our normal understanding, but as we discover her strength, other powers surface humbling the one we normally would at this point call a semi-God."

The man was right. He continued, "If we are to believe even a fraction of what is happening in the news, we are either facing a rare conjunction called the Sixth Attraction or this is all hype created by Marilyn. We all have our own opinion. Recent surveys suggest fifteen percent of our population does not believe in universal changes, but my heart tells me everyone here believes in the Sixth Attraction in one way or another." There was silence from the crowd and nods.

Francois looked down at his hand, read a cue written with a marker in his sweaty palm and began. "Mathematics tells us there other dimensions, other worlds, and other life must exist. Any biological process, however complicated, is never unique. In fact, think about it, nothing in the universe is unique." He looked up. "In my world, large numbers mean something. A thing that happens millions of times with ease is not only probable; it is a consequence. Liam would say a cause." There were smiles in the room.

"We are told earth has a champion, a man uniquely qualified to help us. This man was selected by a game and put in place by the same artificial intelligence telling us this man is our guide. In theory, I should wonder if Emilio is the right leader. Here is my problem, though. I have worked closely with him over the last nine years. I know how this man thinks and I can personally vouch the man I have the honor of calling a friend, is the real deal. Next to him, I am humbled, we all are." This time the members of the SAC agreed. "But before he walks out to humbly deny what I just said, the President asked me to explain why I am holding this microphone and why I am introducing him," he continued in jest, "aside from my charms."

There was no laughter. This was a difficult crowd.

"Since 2063, as if in anticipation of today's events, our President has assembled on a monthly basis a group," he waved at the front row, "formed of the most brilliant minds on earth. Each is an expert in at least a field of science. I am a proud original member of this Committee called the SAC or the Scientific Advisory Committee. For nine years now, we put part of our research on hold and gathered in person in Berlin and talk about current events and learned in the process to respect each other. I will be honest, all of us, in this strange cocoon of brilliance, have become friends.

"What has kept this group working together is one human, our President. Even for men such as us, we all feel admiration of his brilliant mind. To some watching at home, he is a garage mechanic with no advanced training who simply won a game; to us, he is the only man in the world who humbles us. In my field, Mathematics, if today he told me to reconsider the notion of zero, I would. That is how much I respect this man.

Francois stood fixed.

"Over the years, at his request, we have trained him in the ways of all sciences. No, that's inaccurate. It's closer to say he inhaled it. If we had to place our lives in the hands of one man, and it appears we have to today, Emilio would be that man. Scientists despise politicians for one simple reason: they are with few exception stupid. Emilio is not. We recently learned that our President's mind differs from ours in how it processes things. He has a way of seeing sequential futures. We knew he was special and had a gift; we simply did not know precisely how it worked. Kudos to Emilio who managed to keep his secret from a group like us for so long. We finally understand the reason behind his dominance of the Electoral game system." Francois looked at his audience; he was more relaxed.

He took a deep breath and what he said next was from his heart.

"Like most scientists, I share a deep frustration as to the disrespect for science by our society. Even with 2072 technology, the most gifted children shy away from mathematics, neurobiology or physics to get easy recognition and fame in arts or sports. Games like chess, puzzles, and construction sets have been replaced with pushing buttons on a screen. Because of our collective laziness, Marilyn, the creation of one man, now holds our society hostage.

"If our species is still standing on November 22, the day after Round 32, it will not be thanks to many out there. Look around your homes, who owns anything which challenges the mind? No one even reads anymore." Francois' students had heard this speech hundreds of times. Francois continued, "We all know if somehow sciences saves the lot of you, we will win nothing more than a matter of years before we revert to our childish instincts and resume playing with balls." Francois was upset. He took several deep breaths and calmed himself. The man had a point, everyone knew it. "The stupidest of my two dogs likes to fetch a ball, my oldest one finds a ball pointless, and his IQ is around 34." He drank from the bottle on the desk to calm himself. “Yet most humans live for football, a game with a ball.”

"Lucky for us, the one man gifted in this new game understood how science might be the tool we would need. The President felt challenges facing our race would require advance through thought and maturity. Hence he recruited us." Francois looked at the young minds in the room. They all shared his passion for sciences; they felt inspired. Their collective minds were thirsty for knowledge. The sight of this vast intelligence calmed him. Off-stage, Emilio was grinning from ear to ear. Francois was one of his favorites; he was lecturing billions of people.

"Want to know where to start? Join a chess club." Francois was the head of his school's chess club. The room was silent with the exception of the faint buzzing of the flying cameras. "Before I introduce the man who has given faith back to my belief in the human race, I must give each of you one warning. It took the members of the SAC years to figure out that Emilio's gift allows him to know when he needs to question you. He does not need to be interrupted or even spoken to. Think about your questions, imagine yourself standing up at the microphone and he will call upon you if he needs it. Be humble, you should. My measured IQ is 163, and this man humbles me. Before you speak, remind yourself there are half a dozen Nobel recipients sitting right there, and they are keeping their mouths shut." The man had made his point. No one was stupid enough to open his or her mouth. People watching in the privacy of their own homes were silent. Humanity felt empowered; if this wasn't enough, nothing was. Generals around the globe felt (as they should) like children compared to these men.

Pointing to the side of the stage, as if he was introducing a movie star, Francois yelled, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the President of the United Nations, my friend, Mister Emilio Wamarez Sanchez."