DAISY COVERED HER MOUTH in surprise. “My God! Your grandmother is that Sara? Your mother is her daughter?”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he chastised himself. “Why the hell did I open my mouth? Why go bragging about that? It’s worse than saying you’re the seed of Hitler or any other evil tyrant. Did I screw the pooch?”

“You’re famous, then?”

It spilled from her mouth. Automatically. She didn’t mean it in a bad way. It was just that GDII was significant, relevant history to her. Near history in time, yes. The people she knew in Prosperity, every one of them, had been terribly impacted by Ron’s decoupler technology. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, friends, pets, trees, plants, food, commerce, lifestyles, investments, society, the air itself. All were devasted, the result of one madman with a depraved vision and an unending sense of entitlement and victimhood. And here she was, sitting with the son of the daughter of someone who focused directly on pressing Ron the Oligarch’s narrative forward, enabling him to exact his ultimate terror on humanity.

To Daisy, it was a harsh slap of reality, and for once her natural exuberance and zest for life were momentarily muted. She wasn’t sure how to respond. “How must he feel,” she wondered, “being the progeny? Living proof of its occurrence? So close to the intentional devastation of our race and planet.”

“Ouch. How can that be famous?” he responded. “It’s the last thing anyone would want to be, I imagine.”

She kissed his lips quickly, then pulled back. “I’m sorry. It just came out that way. I can’t imagine how you look at it since I have no basis for comparison.”

“Well, my mom never seemed to be bothered too much. By the time they straggled their way into Prosperity, she and Sara were pretty beat-up and in tough health. You know that story since it’s the same for virtually everyone.”

Daisy recalled her training. Don’t dwell on the positive or the negative. Analyze it. Learn from it. Apply those lessons to your everyday zeitgeist. Be in the moment. She stood up, understanding it was best to continue.

“A factoid about my dearest Sord. One that makes you a more interesting character, but one that matters little in today’s discussion at hand. Shall we continue?”

“Sure,” he said, relieved they were moving on from something he now wished he wouldn’t have mentioned. “You indicated multiple scenarios. What are the others?”

“Why yes, of course,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “The most obvious alternative is that they are here, right now, but not detectable by us. In fact, my gut, not my logic, mind you, but my gut, tells me they are already here, already observing us. If I was them, I’d think this way: ‘How cutely quaint. A race of beings we were fortunate enough to catch at this stage of evolution. Look, they don’t yet know how to get along with each other. Isn’t that a kick? They don’t yet know how to set longevity priorities for their species. In fact, they don’t even understand why that’s important. And they’re recklessly playing with their genetic code. What interesting relics!’”

He interjected. “I agree that to any interplanetary species, we’d definitely be relics.”

“‘And look also. They believe in gods and super-powered prophets and angels and devils and ghosts and all kinds of paranormal artifacts from their pre-scientific days. Yet, they still cling fearfully onto those beliefs. Again, very amusing, quaint, and even predictable. Remember when we were like that? Remember when we held innate biases about what had to be fact without requiring any scientific proof behind our beliefs?’”

She took a sip of water and continued. “‘Remember when we almost didn’t make it, when we drove our race to the brink of extinction? Remember when we had crazy sects, many with political power, attempting to live-out their ambitious little prophesies about their glory during the End of Days, and making all suffer as a result of their idiotic fears? I wonder if this species will do the same? Or perhaps they will join the countless other species who had their moments in the sun, their very brief, volatile, and emotionally overwrought moments in the sun, before they self-perished, self-annihilated, taking the other planetary species with them in the process. Yes, how quaint; how very, very quaint.’”

Sord drew a deep breath. He’d never known anyone in his life who came close to her intellect, thinking so deeply, and having considered these possibilities in detail.

“Not finished yet,” she added. “I assume you are aware of the many amateur and official governmental photos of UFOs. Reviewing that evidence, it’s quite possible they are indeed here, as I speculated, and perhaps have been for millennia. Maybe they’re giving us continuous hints of their presence, prodding us as a failing species to ask for their help. And yet, we never saw it as such. Instead, we stupidly speculated that these were sightings of amazing new, military flying tech from competing nations. In other words, maybe we never asked for their help so we never received it, despite the many hints.”

“I get that, dear student. Those videos are too real and too unexplained. I think that Greg guy mentioned something similar, about us never asking for assistance. Is there more?”

“Of course! Alternatively, ‘they’ may well be ‘us,’ in effect. They may be running ancestor simulations of us, where we are only sentient beings created on a two dimensional plane of program code at their behest.”

“Oh, I understand this concept from science classes, and that ancestor of mine mentioned it in his diary,” he excitedly admitted, realizing he was not necessarily that far from Daisy’s font of wisdom. “That’s called the Bostrom Theory, right?”

“Yes! Proof that great minds think alike. I prefer this explanation because it’s a fun one. As a scientist, I feel we know so little about the nature of our world, and this especially includes ourselves. We still do not fully understand how these subatomic field energies coalesce as atoms that create protoplasms that create consciousness through time. We still can’t explain consciousness; not well, anyway. We still can’t prove we are not simply sentient, conscious program components developed by an eight-year-old descendant of ours on his quantum to the tenth power computer in some inconceivably advanced game room. If you understand physics, you know the mathematical formulas allow for any number of possibilities like this. And besides, we already know what sentient AI is capable of, for both good and bad, which is why Prosperity allows it so sparingly.”

“In which case, if humanity is simply program code running somewhere, do we have a true free will or only a perception of it?”

She laughed. “That, my dear, doesn’t matter and is fruitless to debate since I doubt their own code would ever allow its two dimensional sentient beings to tie into the organic, functional nature of the program. Seems it would defeat the purpose of the code, and maybe even cause a nasty, self-destructive loop.”

“Well, I’m glad those dudes programmed you, because you’re, like, pretty amazing.”

Ignoring his compliment, she persisted. “But back to the first part, the part that doesn’t imply a super, omniscient being but presumes at least superior alien beings who are watching us. You must consider whether they are here right now, sitting with us, interacting with or influencing us, but we can’t see them.”

Sord turned his head from side to side, looking behind to the broken buildings and piles of rubble. “Wow,” he observed, “maybe this place is their version of the Roman Coliseum. They are here right now, sitting out there among the rocks and shattered building crap, drinking sodas and eating popcorn, listening to you and me blabber aloud and laughing at our inability to perceive them.”

She pointed her finger at him. “Yes, yes indeed. You know about gravitational lensing, correct?”

“Sure. Kind of.”

“Why should these beings, so advanced they can rocket here across millions of light years, possibly folding spacetime, not also be able to bend light to their advantage? And I mean bend it locally so they are invisible to us? Or maybe they use tech we already understand. What if they can easily modify our perception of them, veiling their presence through some sort of mental lensing? Similarly, any such advanced civilization should easily have the ability to restrict incoming signals from space, thereby preventing us from acquiring any alien knowledge that might happen to reach us.”

Sord placed his injured hand in the air. “If they can do all that, I at least wish they had a fast cure for pain.”

Daisy’s eyes rolled. “Oh, you poor, suffering soul. I forgot about your massive hand injury. Are you doing okay?”

He nodded. “Yes, just looking for a little sympathy.”

She reached across the makeshift table that separated them, then grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek. “I haven’t covered my next option, which is a doozy.”

“Doozy? My mom uses that word sometimes.”

“Listen up, instructor. I’m almost done on this topic. The next possibility is this. They are not out there, and we are the only sentient beings in the entire, infinite of infinite universes. Even in all the multiverses, potentially. Add to that, the flip side of antimatter universes.”

“Um, this doesn’t seem so likely. I mean, unless you believe in a Supreme Being.”

“Exactly!” she agreed. “If we are the only sentient beings in the universe, it must logically presuppose a Supreme Being because, without a Supreme Being, there is a statistically impossible chance of us being the only sentient species. Now, maybe that Being is God or god-like. Maybe that Being is the eight-year-old in his alien garage running the tenth power quantum program with lots and lots of code. And perhaps that little whiz created this crazy universe, thinking one day we’ll go out into it and explore all those many worlds we’ve seen, assuming his program can create quantum wormholes or other light speed transport. And maybe that eight-year-old himself is a result of some infinite, cascaded chain of such programs, all self-inventing.”

“Oh, mama. My brain is starting to hurt. Too many options. So, of those, which do you think is most likely?”

Raising her hand to her chin, she stared at the ground. “Not sure, but I can tell you this. When I meditate, once in a great while, I am able to separate my sense of being from my physical self. No, no, not the right words. Better said that I can project my conscious mind beyond the bounds of this flesh. I can achieve a state where I as Daisy do not feel separate from that which is outside my body. It’s like this spark of wholeness with all things of the universe. My dad calls it a ‘California Moment’ for some reason. Have you ever felt that?”

He sighed. Though fifteen minutes of daily meditation time was provided in class throughout his school years, he was terrible at it. Too difficult to concentrate. Friends sitting at the adjacent desks. Homework. Sports. A pretty girl to distract. Worrying about his mother’s happiness.

“I’m not so great at meditating,” he confessed. “I’ve heard people can achieve that state of separation, but few in high school would probably ever admit it. Most kids our age have sensitivities about seeming too ethereal or whatever.”

“Dearie, it is more about connecting to all that is without versus always being inside your own head. It is the best feeling I’ve ever experienced or likely ever will.”

“Even better than sex?” he inquired.

They both laughed aloud. “Can’t say I’ve had great sexual experiences, though that might change in the near future.” She winked at him, and he stood to grab her. “Oh, oh, oh! I don’t want you getting distracted yet. We still have much exploring to do, and I don’t mean exploring each other. Not yet.”

“Damn!” he mumbled, but he was encouraged by her last words. “So how does this meditation relate to these options you discussed?”

“I can’t tell you how or why I feel this, but something more than me exists beyond me and this world. Until this spark hit, I honestly hadn’t given the whole God thing much thought, you know? I mean, some of my best friends are Catholic or Muslim or Hindu or atheist, but that’s not how I was raised. I couldn’t even tell you if I was ever even in a church to worship. Yet I don’t think of church as being about a supreme entity. I think of church as a social activity and maybe a little reminder to the self that there is or might be such a thing as God.”

“And how does this entity play an active role in your life or mine?”

“None, not that I can tell. It’s more about a presence of awareness. Of the magnificence of being. Pure consciousness. Without judgment. In fact, what I sense is creation only, wonderful creation upon which we who are conscious are compelled to place various meanings, actions, and judgments. Causation and meaning and good and evil are left to us to interpret.”

He wiped his brow. “Whew! Daisy, I have to tell you. At sixteen, my brain spends little time pondering such ponderous things, but I should mention that it sounds familiar.”

“Like how?”

“Oh, back to that diary I’m reading. This Greg guy believed somewhat similarly. That God might only be a creator, not a judge or jury or person who watches out for things or favors one person or one group of worshippers over others or metes out favors depending on the level of piety. It always gets me how people can stick to their ancient beliefs despite the fact that so many of us humans have died by our own actions, such that to this day, we humans and hybrids remain a very tenuous species on this planet.”

“As you know, Dearie, humans are experts at rationalizing away bad things that happen to them or evil things in which they take part. And historically, of course, they conveniently either lay blame or thanks on an entity of some kind beyond themselves, be that a devil, an angel, or a god. So they rationalize it, because owning it would force them to re-evaluate themselves; to change their ways. And that takes effort.”

“And humans are innately lazy,” they repeated in unison, chuckling while parroting a lesson from Prosperity’s Stoic teachings they had learned since early childhood.

Daisy shifted to sit next to Sord and grabbed his hand, placing it on her leg.

“I’m not done yet,” she confessed. “More is blossoming from me.”

“More ‘kissing Daisy’ kinds of blossoms?”

She put her arms around him, kissed his cheek, and held him tightly. “Sord, there’s so much more to say,” she whispered in his ear. “I am euphoric, like my time with you could never be long enough, so I’m compelled to let it all out. To spill every last drop of thoughts from my head as if this is our one and only time together, but also the way we should cherish all future moments with each other.”

He pushed her back slightly and with a surprised look replied, “I’m not going anywhere, Daisy. This guy’s perfectly fine being perfectly enthralled with you and the insanely attractive and crazy thoughts stirring within you. I could sit here all day and all year until you got tired of telling me what drives your exuberance for life.”

Daisy smiled and flipped back his short bangs, peering into his eyes. “I’m glad you listen so well, because sometimes I might talk too much. I’m sure you understand the teachings we get about being confident, about being supremely confident, but also being polite and patient with each other. I try to be that way, yet at this stage of my life, even almost from birth, this awareness of consciousness, this ability to look into your brown eyes and push your bangs back, to be here with you and have you put up with my over-exuberance, I couldn’t ask for more.”

He kissed her again, a long, soft kiss.

She stopped him. “There is more to be said, however. We’ve only covered UFOs. Only one topic. Besides, we haven’t done much actual exploring in this Roman Coliseum of yours. We should hunt around some more. Also, I don’t know about you, but with all that water, I need a bathroom break.”

Sord smiled mischievously. “Fine with me if you go right here. I’ll gladly close my eyes.”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m not that crass! And what if someone else suddenly entered this amphitheater? There I’d be, Cleopatra in the Coliseum, peeing to my heart’s content with you pretending not to watch. And who knows what hidden cameras might be tracking our activities?”

“Oh, I’m little concerned with hidden cameras,” he explained. “You know Prosperity uses those very sparingly and only at its periphery for security purposes.”

“Well, what about where we are right now? How do you know a mech army isn’t just beyond the door? Or maybe an army of mech or genetic bots, even microscopic ones, who are just waiting for us to make an inappropriate move?”

“Like peeing in the middle of this place?” he laughed.

“Yes, Dearie. So, no, I won’t pull my pants down here in broad daylight. We can find a restroom.”

Sord peered behind him, pointing. “I think I saw one back there by the dispenser. A portable. I doubt any of the original ones in this building survived whatever happened here, or maybe they’re on the other side of those locked doors.”

“I’m fine to use a portable.”

They started climbing upward, along the rudimentary path they descended previously.

“Do you mind if we walk and talk?” she asked.

“Sure. About what?”

“Well, I was wondering. What do you think about living here?”

“In what sense?”

“Prosperity. The rules and norms we use to guide ourselves.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s hard for me to consider them as rules. We basically live them every day, and they become so ingrained with our psyches. I can’t separate this way of living from who I am.”

“It’s not like a religion, you know?” she observed. “If you think of religion, there were rules of behavior, expectations about how to act, who or what you worship, giving reverence and paying penance and all sorts of related requirements enshrouded by dogma. Oddly, I don’t feel like ours are requirements, and the only underlying narrative to them, if you can reduce it, is that we should be considerate of each other. Equitable. Thoughtful. That we need to be that way, or we go extinct. To me, the rules are what they are. Recommended ways of handling yourself. Disciplines. Paths for personal growth and experience. Pressureless, even, at least for kids like us who grew up knowing nothing else and no other way.”

Her comment reminded him of Matt, and he wondered what might happen to him. “Yeah, that’s the way I feel. But, do you know how much I’d love to do the things kids used to do so freely? Think of video games, for one. Social networking, for two. To always be in contact with lots of friends at a time. There’s a world of pleasures and indulgences they knew that we will never know. Fast food restaurants of every kind. Amusement parks. Endless hours of virtual and augmented reality interactions and stories. Think of even watching an old movie at will without feeling that twinge of self-absorbed guilt. Imagine getting chipped into your ocular nerve, or directly into your brain, and having access to all the information there is to know and see and consider. It seems so reasonable to want to go there again.”

“Just one minute, Dearie,” she requested as they reached the spot. “I’d appreciate it if you’d move back a ways since this potty is not soundproof, no doubt. I’m sure you wouldn’t care to hear my minute’s worth of Niagara Falls.”

He chuckled and stepped away from the small enclosure. “Honestly, I’m glad you suggested this, because I’m next after you.”

Sord glanced around the area. Still no signs of anyone else.

“Dad used to come here,” he pondered, “every workday. A scientist. Like Daisy. She knows and thinks so deeply. What a wizard! I wonder if Dad was like that as a kid? Mystical. Inquisitive. Ebullient.”

He closed his eyes. “I can almost smell him. That scent of whatever he used for shaving cream. How amazed I was that such dark hair would grow on his face. Joking, jovial, so much of the time. Wrestling with me. Letting me win. Pin him down. ‘Uncle!’ he’d yell. ‘Uncle. I give up. You’re too strong.’ Then he’d tickle me until I’d cry.”

“Your turn.”

He jumped at the sound.

“Daydreaming, apparently. Sorry to scare you. Your turn.”

He stepped into the portable while Daisy surveyed the expanse.

“What scientific experiments was he doing here?” she considered. “Look at this place. It’s dug as deep as anything I’ve seen before, right into the bedrock. They must have used explosives, given all the jagged-edged sandstone and shale around here. But where did it all go? Where’s the structure that held the lab? Did they haul it away? Was it radioactive? No, I doubt they’d be doing anything with fission or fusion. Too small of a place and too dangerous this close to Durango. But its shape reminds me a little of the colliders built in the last century, though much smaller. And this structure was oblong, like an oval track around a field. Not a pure circle, though there were so many collider designs.”

Sord snuck up quietly behind her, attempting payback at frightening her.

“I see you,” she stated.

“Dang! Do you have eyes back there, behind that auburn hair? Maybe you are actually a seductive alien,” he joked, “with multiple pairs of eyes.”

“You wish. No, I’m just aware, that’s all. Aware."