AN ALTERNATE “THE LIFE OF THE MIND” Deleted and Alternate Scenes ■■ ■■ 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 351 06/09/15 6:17 am Introduction The End of All Things took me longer to write than most of my books do, in part because I had a number of false starts. These false starts weren’t bad—in my opinion— and they were use- ful in helping me fi gure out what was best for the book; for ex- ample, determining which point- of- view characters I wanted to have, whether the story should be in fi rst or third person, and so on. But at the same time it’s annoying to write a bunch of stuff and then go Yeaaaaah, that’s not it. So it goes. Through vari ous false starts and diversions, I ended up writ- ing nearly 40,000 words— almost an entire short novel!—of material that I didn’t directly use. Some of it was re cast and repurposed in different directions, and a lot of it was simply left to the side. The thing is when I throw something out of a book, I don’t just delete it. I put it into an “excise fi le” and keep it just in case it’ll come in handy later. Like now: I’ve taken vari ous bits from the excise fi le and with them have crafted a fi rst chapter of an alternate version of The Life of the Mind, the fi rst novella of The End of All Things. This version (roughly) covers the same events, with (roughly) the same characters, but with a substantially different narrative di- rection. In an alternate universe, an alternate version of me went ahead with this version, and The End of All Things ended up be- ing a rather different book. Which would be cool. I’d like to meet up with that John Scalzi and trade books. Please note: This version of the story is non canonical and 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 353 06/09/15 6:17 am 354 | John Scalzi mildly spoilery for the version that is, in fact, canonical. While you don’t have to read the offi cial version of The Life of the Mind to read this (or to enjoy it), I recommend that you do to fully appreciate the compare and contrast. Also, this version ends on a bit of a cliff-hanger. Which will never be resolved. Sorry about that. Enjoy! — JS 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 354 06/09/15 6:17 am The Robert Anton skipped into the Inhe system, near a small asteroid that in the not too recent past had served as a Rraey space station and repair dock. The Rraey had offi - cially abandoned it, along with a substantial number of other territories, after a series of military po litical setbacks, contracting back to the species’ core planets and sys- tems. “Offi cially abandoned” did not mean it was not in PART ONE PART use, however. Control, sent Giovanni Carranza, pi lot and captain of the Rob- ert Anton. This is the Robert Anton, requesting docking assistance. “Copy, Robert Anton,” said an artifi cially generated voice, the standard voice of Control. “You’re some distance away. Can you maneuver any closer to base?” Negative, Carranza said. Engines are dead. Maneuvering jets are dead. Both died on the other side of the skip. “How did you get to skip distance?” Inertia, Carranza said. Burned the engines as long as I could be- fore I had to take them offl ine. Saved enough energy to run the skip drive. It was a very slow trip. “Copy that,” Control said. “Your status other wise, please.” The Anton is heavily damaged, Carranza said. Hull compro- mised, weapons systems partially destroyed. Communications work, obviously, but outside sensors are dead. I knew I skipped from timing alone. If anyone other than me were on the ship, they’d be long dead. We’re a mess. 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 355 06/09/15 6:17 am 356 | John Scalzi “Did you complete your mission?” There was a hesitation. Yes, Carranza said. The mission was completed. It wasn’t pretty but it got done. “It’s going to take us some time to get you back to dock,” Control said. “We’d like to start analysis of your mission as soon as possi ble. Please send along your mission logs and recordings, as well as your damage report.” Sending, Carranza said. “Thank you,” Control said. The Anton took a beating. I’m not sure it’s repairable at this point. “I’m looking at your damage report now. You may be right about that.” What does that mean for me? “You don’t need to worry about that right now.” You and I agreed that if this mission was successful that I would be done, Carranza said. “I’m well aware of our agreement,” Control replied. I don’t want the state of the Anton held against me. “We asked you to complete the mission,” Control said. “You did what we asked you to do.” I know it’s been harder for you to get more ships. To get more pi lots. Control didn’t say anything to this. I would like my body back, Carranza said. I would like to go home. “Don’t worry,” Control said. “We’ll take care of you.” Thank you, Carranza said, and then died as Control sig- naled the release of a neurotoxin into his brain. The effect was instantaneous; Carranza had felt relief that his wishes would be granted and then he felt nothing at all. The person behind Control waited until it received the sig- nal that Carranza’s brain was past any attempt at revival— not long at all— and then ordered tugs to bring the Anton into dock and crews to take what was salvageable from the ship before reducing it to scrap. Carranza had been correct that it was harder to get ships re- 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 356 06/09/15 6:17 am The End of All Things | 357 cently, but the Anton’s useful days were done. As were Carran- za’s. Pi lots were also hard to come by. But their usefulness was limited by their ability to believe they would ever be free. There would be no way for Carranza to believe that after today. A waste. But fortunately, a replacement was on the way. “The time has come for treasonous ideas,” said Otha Durham, from his lectern. An amused murmur rippled through the corps of Colonial Union diplomats, assembled in one of the State Department’s conference theaters. Durham, undersecretary of state for the Colonial Union, and speaking to the crowd on the occasion of an other wise- standard assembly to award a medal to one of their number, smiled along with them. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and then assumed the part of a bored diplomat in his audience. “Oh, God, there Durham goes again, pretending to have big thoughts and pre- senting them with such drama.” He smiled again as laughs emerged from his audience, and held up his hands as if to ac- knowledge an affectionate criticism. “Fair call. Fair call. I don’t think it’s any secret that I’ve made dramatic statements a call- ing card of my career. But work with me for a minute here.” Durham looked out over his audience, becoming serious. “For decades— scratch that, for centuries— the Colonial Union has been charged with the role of keeping humanity safe and secure in our universe. A universe which was and continues to be hostile to the idea that humans exist within it. Ever since we have made our presence known in space, other species and other powers have sought to remove us—to eradicate us. And if we know anything about humanity it is this: We don’t go down without a fi ght. “And so we have fought. Humanity has fought, for centuries, to earn and keep our place in the universe. The Colonial Union 039-61734_ch01_4P.indd 357 06/09/15 6:17 am 358 | John Scalzi and the Colonial Defense Forces has fought that fi ght for our species, for centuries.” Durham shrugged, acknowledging the fact of centuries of near- constant warfare. “So be it,” he said. “But where does that leave us, the diplomatic corps of the Colonial Union? We have existed all this time, alongside the Colonial Defense Forces, but as an afterthought, an also- ran— because not only was the idea that diplomacy with the alien races we encountered might be a useful tool ridiculed, it was indeed considered very nearly a treasonous thought. “How can we seriously think diplomacy could work when time and time again the other species out here with us attacked us, killed our colonists, and claimed the planets and systems we had claimed for our own? In this light, how could diplomacy be seen as anything other than an abdication of responsibility for the species? How could it be anything other than treason?” Durham looked out at the diplomats assembled before him, quiet now. “Diplomacy as treason. Reaching out with an open hand in- stead of a fi st, treason. The idea that intelligences that evolved on different worlds, in different ways and in different environ- ments, might yet still fi nd a common ground, treason. If you consider all these things almost fundamentally a betrayal of hu- manity, it makes sense that in the end, all you have left is the war. The fi ght.