Cross-posting from the Map of the Fortnight thread, my first entry in a while:
Three and a half billion years in the future, a matrioshka brain is running a simulation of the rise of one of its creator species, when a minor error causes a hyperspherical cross-section of the simulated world to be temporally transposed by 2^10 cycles...
2017. At first they thought it was a summer thunderstorm. The first thing everyone noticed was a great booming sound, like a clap of thunder but larger, as two masses of air at different temperatures and pressures were suddenly brought in contact with each other. Those who were outdoors could see a strange roiling in the sky, as clouds formed, joined, or dissipated. One or two people near the boundaries of the sphere saw features seem to vanish in an instant - trees, roads, telephone wires. Later, they were able to trace the boundaries of "The Zone" by finding objects which had been bisected by the transposition. Staff and campers at Box Canyon Ranch noticed as the power went out. But it was several days before anyone grasped the truth - that their little circle of northern New Mexico had been thrown back in time.
Once this hypothesis had been reached, a party from Box Canyon Ranch set out within a few days, following the Chama River down to the Rio Grande, then heading up into the hills where Santa Fe should be, to determine if it might be possible to make contact with American or even Spanish colonial authorities. They found nothing. A second party set out a few days later, headed west...
993. The strangers had come down from the high country to the east, Qoyanomtiwa's scouts had reported, though they did not dress like easterners. They were oddly pale, and most curious of all, some were being carried by elk without horns. No one seemed to have guided them, but somehow they had found their way to the Great House. Qoyanomtiwa pondered this, and at last he shrugged. "Let us go and meet these strangers," he said. "Maybe they are Pahana, maybe not. We shall put them to the test, and if they fail, we shall treat with them as with any other men or women."
2017. "It's not much like how I remember it," Rick said. "It's bigger, but smaller at the same time." It didn't even look much like the reconstruction in the National Geographic they'd found in the library--most of Chaco Canyon didn't seem to have been built yet. But there was Pueblo Bonito, sure enough, and not just the ruins Rick had visited last fall - the stone walls stood several stories high, and right now they seemed to be bustling with people.
"Look," said Carla. "Someone's coming out." Indeed, a group of several people was emerging from a doorway, though only one seemed to be carrying a weapon.
"Alright, let's not get any closer. Wait here for them."
993. Qoyanomtiwa surveyed the strangers. There were five of them, but the scouts were correct - each of them seemed to be seated on an elk of some sort. As he watched, the strangers climbed down off these elk, and stood. They did not seem to be carrying spears or other weapons that he could see, though who knew what powers they might have if they could command these beasts?
"Lomankwa, tell them to come no closer," he said to the shaman.
2017. Rick watched as one of the delegation drew out a small pouch of white powder, and sprinkled it in a line on the ground. "Let's leave the gifts here and back off a bit," he said, watching the shaman's gestures. Carla nodded, deposited the "gift package" they'd assembled at the Ranch, and stepped back a few paces.
993. "I think they might be offering a trade," said Macatoiniwa. "Remember the men from the south, five years ago, who brought the green birds and the shells?"
"Yes, I remember," Qoyanomtiwa replied. "In that case, let's see what they have to offer." They advanced to where the strangers had laid their bundle. A square of fine red cloth, wide as his arm, lay on the ground. On it were knives that glinted like the sun on water, plates and dishes with strange intricate designs, several garments of white cloth, jewelry of silver and turquoise, and a pile of shining disks the size of his hand. "These seem like fine goods," he said to Macatoiniwa. "Let's see if we can come to an arrangement..."
By the time the error was noticed, milliseconds later, several dozen processing cycles had passed. A new hybrid culture was blossoming across the affected area, as the ancestral Puebloans adopted and assimilated these strange newcomers. The area had already been headed for an era of rapid growth and development due to favorable climate conditions, but the new crops and livestock seemed likely to extend it further and faster. Already, trade networks were forming, east to the Mississippi Valley and south into Mexico.
A quorum was called to determine whether to end the counterfactual scenario or to let it continue...
- how about I shoot you a PM? Which can be answered at your own leisure; I'm not in any rush. That'd be pretty fantastic.
