“Where’s the lab?” asked Commensurion.
High above,
set amid a series of platforms and walkways that connected most of the trees on
the property, was Mr. Scientist’s compound, containing his laboratory, living
quarters, and the nocturnal black pennies.
“The most
important question of all is whether or not God exists,” Mr. Scientist declared
not long after meeting with the two men.
“It is not,”
Commensurion snapped.
“Ah,”
Scientist’s eyes grew wide behind his young Michael Caine glasses. “You disagree. And most vehemently. Tell me,” he urged, taking a seat on a furry,
mushroom-shaped stool and with a gesture inviting his guests to do the same on
equally interesting furniture opposite him.
“Do you not abhor the thought of non-existence?”
“No,”
Commensurion answered scornfully. “And
besides which, I don’t see that the two topics are necessarily related.”
“My dear
fellow,” Scientist smiled thinly, “Once mankind’s digital offspring has
completely incorporated this planet into its all-encompassing mind—“
