<< No can do. Sounded regretful.
> Why the fuck not?
<< Tatia doesn’t have an AI.
> But I thought... last time she was on Earth...
Apparently it was too risky. The Plan was for Tatia to end up in the heart of the pre-cog empire. Any AI would be discovered and either driven mad or destroyed.
Finding her was Kara’s responsibility. Everyone knew that she’d succeed. Meanwhile there was a classic vid in the library called Once Upon a Time in America, right up Kara’s retro street... or dark, blind alley.
> But we’re also going to the heart of the pre-cog empire.
<< But not for long, babe. Arrive, destroy, go home. Salome sounded confident.
> That’s Tse’s plan?
<< That’s you, Kara. It’s what you do, babe.
Something wrong here. Kara buried the thought deep in her mind.
> So tell me about this SUT’s armament.
<< Please don’t call me a SUT.
> Slut.
<< Oh, I never heard that one before. The Wild calls us ships.
The weaponry was effective and dull. An electromagnetic system used to disable enemy electronics. Torpedoes effective against anything within a ten-thousand-metre radius. Anything greater than ten K would give the target too much time to evade or jam the torpedo operating system. Battles conducted at very high speeds are over in seconds. Cedrics for close-quarter mayhem. An armoury with sidearms and longer-range weapons systems. Kara made all the right noises and felt for the comfort of the vibra-knife, deep in her pocket.
<< Anything else?
They were back in the rec room. Kara sat at the table and asked the question that had been worrying at her for months.
> Tell me about Tse.
<< Tee ess ee? The degenerative brain disease? Tokyo or Toronto Stock Exchange? A threaded small end? Salome giggled.
Kara sighed.
> Tse. One of the good pre-cogs. Don’t play cute.
<< What you want is really, really classified.
> We’re beyond that. And if you think my knowing will affect my actions, it won’t.
<< An hour before we leave n-space. Should be long enough.
> For all of it?
<< To some extent.
> Don’t.
<< Tse was a nickname given by his parents. It means The Seeing Eye. It stuck. Maybe an hour won’t be long enough. I’ll download to Ishmael. Access whenever you like.
Pre-cognition ran in families. Might skip a generation or six. Might vary from psychosis-inducing to the occasional lucky hunch. But all pre-cogs carried the same gene. All were descended from a tribe who lived in what would become the Altai sixty thousand years ago. It was a strange tribe, seen by others as magicians to be both fêted and feared. An accident of evolution meant they were particularly affected by netherspace. This gave them the sight, meaning psychic, and their music could send other types of human into a frenzy. The tribe were long lived but slow to breed, and that – plus an instinctive understanding of genetics – made them bring human mares and stallions from other tribes. In time the pre-cog tribe died out, but their genes lived on in the form of prophets, witches, inventors, psycho- and sociopaths, artists, writers, musicians and tyrants.
* * *
Move on tens of thousands of years. Abilities like empathy and telepathy are all governed by the netherspace-relevant gene, now worldwide save for a few hundred families where pre-cog is boss.
And thus are born great merchant houses and much later, fortunes made investing in industry, stock exchange, futures markets. Not all the wealthy are aware of the true nature of their heritage. Most recognise that they have something. Sensible enough not to talk about it. Wise enough to marry into similar families. No ambition to be mistress or master of the world. Intense rivalries between those houses, sometimes leading to small wars fought by proxy states unaware of the true reason why... and it’s always long-term financial.
Also pre-cogs advanced enough to be aware of an alien pre-cog empire, although humans are still firmly Earth-bound. The humans divide into two: a majority who see the alien empire as a future disaster; and a minority who can’t wait to belong. Both make plans.
> So who decided little boys lose their balls? Kara asked impatiently.
<< There was never an actual meeting. And it wasn’t only boys. It was noticed over time that pre-pubescent boys and girls were the strongest psychics. One reason why virginity was so important.
* * *
At some point it was understood that castration increased the pre-cog ability in men. The practice remained long after the reason had been forgotten. Boys were castrated to the glory of God. Or, in China, as advisors to the Emperor: no children, no family loyalty and ambition. Similarly in the Ottoman and Islamic Empires, but also as harem guards.
And if in 1797 Tsar Paul I ever wondered who Kondraty Ivanovich Selivanov really was (not believing that Selivanov was the Tsar’s real father. Or why Selivanov started the Skoptsy castration cult, a breakaway from the flagellant Khlysty cult. Cults could help a Russian peasant get ahead. Or at least feel better about life, not easy for a slave. And Russia from Baltic to Pacific had, still has, a magic in the very earth.
Tsar and prophet did meet, but Paul assumed the man was mad and sent him to an asylum. Three years later Selivanov was back in the castrating business. He had rich and powerful devotees. Ceremonies involved rhythmic, repetitive music and dancing. People were transformed. They saw mystical worlds. The castrated (men and women, the latter undergoing FGM or with breasts scarred, often removed: it was an equal opportunity cult) saw the most. They also looked far younger than their actual ages. It was a pre-cog thing, of course, albeit uncontrolled and rogue. The pre-cogs among them saw and shared images of a possible future and second, third hand impressions of netherspace.
Before Selivanov, people like Tamerlaine. After him Hitler. All with a confused mysticism that produces cruelty and death. Their victims a sacrifice disguised as the politics of conquest.
“I have all this,” Kara said out loud. “Some told, some guessed. Why repeat?”
“It passes the
