364 The Whole Universe Is Against Me

Byron Masters discovered the threshold of synapse interaction that determined self-awareness. His "Masters' Threshold" of S = f (D/m3) Nx 2.56P, still unpublished, also proved the connections needn't be neurons—one example being trees, sustained by the "S" of the fungi interconnecting them.

That's why the luminescent being came.

"Byron?"

"Who's that?"

"You're right, Byron."

"About what?"

"About the Masters' Threshold."

"Says who?"

"The universe."

"The whole universe?"

"Yes—me. You see, Bryon, the human brain's interconnectivity meets the threshold: sentience arises. But it can be anything that interfaces, from dust to galaxies. Think of the Ns and Ps possible."

"The ultimate intelligence," he cooed. "But, can situational interactions make for an S, too? I can't catch a break. Everything in my life's pathetic. All other scientists ridicule me."

"That's why I'm here. Do you have any idea what meeting the threshold means at universal scales? Thank God you didn't publish."

"God?"

"Listen, I can't abide someone finding your stuff and manipulating it. Pretty scary. You and your ideas must go. For the universe—I do speak for it—you're unacceptable. I mean, the universe got rid of your wife, friends, money, and career. But you don't give up. The universe wants you gone. Forgotten."

The being reached behind his back to produce a pistol.

"A gun? What's the universe need with that?"

"Why's anyone need one? Byron, you couldn't take a hint—or even N x 2.56 P hints, which would give your bad luck a sentience of its own. And since you couldn't, I figured I'd take care of you in a more conventional way."

"So you're just going to shoot me with some magic gun?"

"Magic? I put together the Magellanic clouds in my sleep. A semiautomatic 9 mm pistol's no challenge. The universe wants re-equilibration, even if it has to get personally involved."

"Tell me, did I ever matter to anyone?"

"The trees were ambivalent," the Universe responded, "but the fungi really liked you."

Byron's life ended as a homicide case as cold as -273.15ºC. No longer interacting with anything, his awareness sank below the Masters' Threshold faster than the speed of the bullet.

The trees continued to sway in the breeze unconcerned, but the fungi mourned.