The White-Hole Situation

The White Holes

The I.B.U. ("peace be upon you") did not like imperfections. Its mandate urged against them, and while it could accommodate them to some extent, its inclination was to analyze, understand, and fix any flaws it found. Language drift was one such error, but of a low priority. It did not cause any serious problems and the I.B.U. ("have a good day") was nothing if not consistent in obeying its own laws of prioritization and severity. Language drift was, in ancient terminology, "a P3", a bug that could be indefinitely deferred. This was not the case with the white holes. These were a potential P0. The system did not even know yet how to categorize them, or where they had come from, or how they arose, or why now, or what it could possibly mean. They seemed to be appearing out of nowhere. Before a known point in time the white holes had not been, had never been, yet here they were, happening, now.

September had never heard of white holes either. She didn't know what the curious want ads were about, but they'd caught her attention: White-Hole Explorers Needed. Investigate the Unknown. Be Among the First. Physicists Preferred. Specialists Wanted. High Priority. Adventurous Spirits. Go Where No One Has Gone Before.

September was intrigued, but cautious. It isn't always wise to "be among the first", she considered, remembering that time she tried the couscous. She wondered what Roddy would think of it. Didn't he consider himself a physicist at one time? Was that before or after his obsession with post-postmodern literature? Roddy dabbled a lot. Right now he was out there somewhere in the world on some kind of quest. She wasn't sure she got it, but that was how it was between them. She'd never been really sure. She only knew she missed him, and even though she could "see" him anytime she wanted, it wasn't the same as really seeing him. She decided to pay him a visit. She knew he wouldn't mind. Roderick Stern, she thought, and the then she was there, or at least the image of her was right there with him. Roddy was fish-looking on a clear, quiet river, somewhere warm and not too windy. He looked over and saw her standing on the river bank.

"Zeppo!" he said too loudly. September winced a bit and adjusted her ears to his volume. She'd forgotten about that. Roddy was looking very Rod-like, straight and narrow, tall and lean, head shaped like a brick thanks to one magnificent hair-style, skin the color of very old, dirty brown brick as well. His oily black eyes made him look like a wine cellar. September had urged him for years to change his appearance. Roddy would only blink at those suggestions. He loved his look even though no one else did.

"You've shifted," he went on. "Last time we spoke you were paler. Skin-tone seven was it? Eye-tone 5?"

"I've gone a bit deeper, it's true," she smiled. "How've you been?"

"Rampant!" he declared. "I've been seeing things! And you?"

"Ready for something new. I mean I might be," she said. It was only when she said those words that she realized they were true. She didn't want a vacation. She wanted an adventure. But not in space. God no, not that.

"They've come up with some new fish," Roddy told her. "Some DNA-scrambling routine is my guess. Maybe a round robin assortment? Some of them even have little legs, with teensy tiny feet on them. Come on over and see."

"I don't know," she said.

"You're onto something," Roddy guessed. He knew she wouldn't have just showed up for no reason. She had always been very specific.

"Maybe," she said. "It's very new. At least I think it is."

"It's coming up with a lot of newly new these days," Roddy replied. "I think it's got a mandate."

"Something about this want ad," she said. "It seems a bit too glib. I'm sensing some anxiety. It just doesn't' seem normal. Here, check it out," she said, blinking him the ad.

Roddy sat back in his kayak and scanned the content appearing before him. It did seem a little too chipper, and he trusted her linguistic sensibilities.

"What's a white hole?" she asked when he looked up.

"There was an ancient theory with that name," Roddy said. "It's long since proven false I think. Supposedly the opposite of what they called "black holes", which turned out to be just a major misunderstanding of relative gravitation. But maybe they're re-using the term for something else. What they're describing here is not the same thing at all. This sounds more like a migrant point in space-time, like a particle nomad, un-entangled, disconnected. Or trapped, maybe. Maybe trapped."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," September said. "But what do you think? Is it too soon? I'd hate to be an early bird on this."

"Could be," Roddy nodded. "I'd watch it, give it a little time. See how the advert changes, oh, and keep me posted."

"Ooh," he followed up quickly, breaking away, "I think I see a water skunk. Going after it."

"You do that," September shook her head and reset, entirely back home now. Only Roddy would go after a water skunk, she thought, and isn't that why I visit him?