Boundary (Field Book 3) Page 5

  SUPERIOR

  28th December 2013

  ‘For the good of Mankind’, thought Dr. Chen as he looked back at the planet far below. For most people, the phrase was merely a collection of hollow words intended to absolve the prick of conscience. From within the cupola module of the ISS, he could see all of that imperfect Mankind; he would return true meaning to the phrase.

  A subtle tone sounded through the bone-conduction audio communicator implanted within his ear.

  “Yes, Fai?” he spoke, his voice being relayed through his own jaw bone to the subcutaneous device.

  “She’s prepared, Father,” Fai replied.

  Although the voice sounded human, he knew it was the result of some extraordinary speech synthesis work. The intonation and cadence was a result of her million-hour study of the spoken word; collated and cross-referenced across thousands of cellphone recordings. Her artificial intelligence may have been his brainchild but, given a small enough framework of parameters, she was now capable of independent self-management.

  “Thank you, Fai,” he responded.

  He exited the central module and headed outwards along an access tube that connected to the station’s end ring. The early arrival of the FLC crew in their RTO module had been an awkward, but not insurmountable, challenge.

  Almost immediately after the Return To Orbit module had docked, the ISS itself had needed to adjust its orbit to avoid seven lethal super-fragments ejected by the detonated Moon. To simplify proceedings, he’d had the crew of the Floyd Lunar Complex forcibly sedated and then transferred to the hibernation units aboard the ISS.

  The hibernation units in Module Beta were not scheduled to be used until Siva had impacted the Earth, but Fai had done her best to get basic sedation and monitoring functions working for the FLC’s three occupants.

  Still under sedation, Mike Sanders, Lana Yakovna and Cathy Gant had all been installed in their units. One at a time, they were being temporarily awoken so that Dr. Chen could speak with them; Fai ensuring that their motor functions remained suppressed throughout the process.

  When their interviews were over, they were re-hibernated until Dr. Chen could decide how to proceed. Of the three survivors of the FLC destruction, Cathy Gant would be the last to be interviewed.

  At the entrance to Module Beta, Charles Lincoln again made his opinion known.

  “I still think this was a mistake,” he grumbled, “We should have depressurised the RTO when they docked, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “And I still maintain they may be useful,” Dr. Chen countered patiently, “Despite the destructive events, they chose to save the Z-bank. They acted with a sense of honour. Honour that not all crew members possess.”

  Charles didn’t reply to the thinly disguised rebuke, he simply left the module and Dr. Chen closed the chamber door.

  He looked down the length of the hibernation chamber. Fashioned from a Space Shuttle’s main external tank, the hollow space stretched away from him. In zero gravity, up and down were largely subjective, so he chose a perspective that suited him. Rather than view it as a tall structure or a deep well, he saw it as a long room with a curved floor. The floor contained an open recess in which he could see Cathy Gant sleeping; her hair contained by a lightweight cap that also covered her forehead.

  “Fai,” he said to the air, “Please begin monitoring her neural band now, then wake her.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  A small LED lit up next to the medical wristband that attached Cathy to the side of her recess and a few seconds later he could see that she had begun to stir.

  “Ah, you’re awake.”

  He pushed himself gently in her direction, and drifted to be alongside her.

  “I am Dr. Chen,” he smiled down at her, “Despite appearances, I truly greet you as my honoured guest.”

  “Yeah about the honoured thing, I’d like to leave now,” came Cathy’s acidic reply, “I brought some sentimental baggage aboard, could you fetch it for me?”

  “Father,” Fai’s voice came from within his ear, “this is possibly a reference to the FLC Zygote bank transport case.”

  He closed his eyes, Fai was of course right, but her grasp of nuance was still a little limited. The Z-bank represented the possibility of repopulating Earth.

  “The repository of all human life is more than mere sentimental baggage,” he shook his head gently at Cathy, “It is the gift of a deity!”

  “Wow,” Cathy sniggered, “you actually see the Z-bank as a gift from the gods? Ha! Cooper would have loved you!”

  “Reference, Cooper L.,” said Fai, “his FLC up-link history shows interests in legends, mythology, Mayan culture -”

  Dr. Chen was already aware of this. As he began replying to Cathy, Fai automatically ceased her data review.

  “Ah Leonard Cooper, one of your former crew-mates. He was quite the scholar, I was looking forward to talking with him. It is a great loss,” he nodded sadly, “I cannot bring myself to say the same for Eva Gray. Her actions have complicated matters.”

  “Complicated matters?” Cathy stared at him with a look of sheer incredulity.

  In fact, his plan had always been to slowly sabotage the deflection beams at the FLC, thereby allowing Siva to reach Earth. Eva’s actions had complicated matters. The destruction of the Moon had forced panicked responses around the world, but hopefully his ambition to start the world afresh could still come to pass.

  “Of course,” he replied, “But hopefully, in time, we can still wipe the slate clean.”

  “How forgiving of you,” Cathy’s expression underlined her sarcasm.

  “Contextual fault,” Fai relayed, “Wipe the slate clean: to forgive or -”

  “Ah, I see,” he stopped Fai’s description, “Now please try to answer my questions honestly, it will make your transition to life aboard much easier.”

  He pushed himself away from Cathy and drifted up out of her limited view. He tapped his ear twice in quick succession; Fai would no longer provide a real-time dialogue.

  “Understood, Father. Beginning electro-stimulation.”

  “You’ll get my honesty pal,” Cathy shot at him, “don’t you worry.”

  “Before we start,” said Dr. Chen, “you should know that I am recording our conversation -”

  “For training and monitoring purposes?” she mocked.

  “Exactly, very perceptive,” he replied without a hint of irony, “Now, in your childhood did you ever dream of, one day, becoming an astronaut?”

  There was a brief pause before she replied.

  “No.”

  He knew that Fai would be able to detect the veracity of all her replies by reading her vital signs and galvanic skin responses, so he moved on.

  “Thank you,” he prepared for the contrast question, “Now, tell me how does the destruction of the FLC make you feel?”

  “Now let me think,” Cathy seemed to be over pronouncing each word, “Yeah I’d have to go with ‘Quite Cross’.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, “Next, how -”

  “What that’s it?!” she interrupted.

  “Yes,” he replied calmly, “The difference between your stated response and your body’s physical reaction to the stimulus has been accurately captured. Your honest response has been noted.”

  “And you don’t think that your mechanical marvel could’ve mistaken my subtle and nuanced sarcasm?”

  “My Shen Series do not make mistakes,” he corrected her, but then almost immediately regretted it. Her use of the words ‘mechanical marvel’ had provoked him into correcting her. In the process, he’d revealed that a Shen Series was part of the analysis hardware.

  “It was a Shen500 that caused all this!” Cathy spat at him.

  “Continue,” he opted to regain his composure while she spoke. It was possible that she hadn’t noticed his slip.

  “If Floyd had hit Siva dead-centre, back in 2010, then there would have been no Tenca! No Tenca, there’d have been no
Chelyabinsk impact. Everyone on Earth could have slept in blissful ignorance until we’d done our job! So don’t try to tell me how perfect your silicon child is!”

  By ‘silicon child’ he knew that she was referring to the FLC computer, Floyd. He found himself folding his arms, a distinctly protective reaction.

  “Either your Shen500 made a big mistake,” Cathy continued “or it was instructed to miss.”

  He realised there was no longer any point concealing the fact. To reassert his control, he pulled himself closer to her, then spoke slowly.

  “My Shen500’s do not make mistakes.”

  “Then -” she said, but then stopped, as though coming to terms with the logical conclusion: Floyd had been instructed to miss Siva.

  “Bastard,” she breathed at him, now apparently only able to whisper, “we could have saved the world.”

  “Saved?” he smiled at her limited comprehension, “With a little patience I will inherit it.”

  He pushed away from her and began manoeuvring towards the chamber door. Fai took this as the signal to put her back into a sleep state and administered the appropriate compound through her medical wristband.

  “Thank you, Cathy,” he called back to her, “we will talk again on our voyage.”

  When he’d reached the module doorway, a subtle tone sounded in his ear.

  “Yes, Fai?”

  “Cathy Gant has re-entered hibernation state.”

  “Very well,” he replied, “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. I calculate that the operation of the ISS could be made more efficient if the crew were allowed to utilise my data processing ability.”

  “We have spoken about this before,” he replied, “You must remain independent of the ISS computer.”

  “I am superior. The crew aboard the ISS are following suboptimal construction processes. My algorithms would provide more robust efficiencies.”

  Dr. Chen took a deep breath then replied.

  “Your presence aboard the ISS was at my discretion, Fai.”

  “Yes, Father, I remember and I thank you for the opportunity to remain functional.”

  “Fai, you are an extraordinary…” he stopped and rephrased, “you are extraordinary. But people are slow to trust. At this moment they would not be receptive to you, despite your abilities. Look at what happened to Floyd. The time to reveal your presence must be carefully managed. Please be patient.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  INTRUSION

  10th October 1957

  A moment ago, two men in grey suits had arrived at the front door and were engaged in a long conversation with her husband. From her position on the living room sofa, Elizabeth couldn’t hear the specifics, but the tone seemed hushed.

  While their discussion continued, she made preparations to give her baby his bottle. She was just checking the milk’s temperature on her wrist, when a voice came from the direction of the front door.

  “Mrs. Walker?” called one of the men.

  She shuffled forwards on the sofa in order to stand up but was interrupted.

  “No, please don’t get up, I can see you’re busy with baby Dougie!”

  The man’s cheerful smile and his casual use of Douglas’ name, immediately put her a little on edge.

  “It seems that someone broke in at the observatory,” the man smiled and gave a shrug, “so Howard’s going to come with us and secure the premises. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I truly am.”

  Something didn’t seem right. Almost as way of reassuring herself and maintaining normality, she angled the milk bottle and allowed Douglas to begin feeding.

  “Howard…?” she called, hoping that he’d notice her unease.

  “It’s OK honey,” he replied, “I’ll be back before Dougie’s next bottle.”

  She’d only just begun feeding him, which presumably Howard could see. The next bottle wouldn’t be for several hours, which he must have known. The observatory was only a few miles away so she couldn’t understand why he would possibly be gone for several hours.

  “OK, look, call me when you get there?”

  “You know me!” he closed the door.

  She did know him, very well. It appeared that he had no control over what had just happened.

  She pulled the bottle from Douglas’ mouth and set him down on the rug. Striding past the wooden blocks that littered the floor, she walked quickly to the window next to the front door. She could hear that Douglas was making the first attempts to cry, but she had to see what was happening outside.

  While she watched the two men escort her husband to a nearby car, Douglas adopted a more urgent bleat-like cry. Before long, she knew this would graduate into a full communication of hunger.

  She saw one of the men gesture for Howard to get into the car. To her eyes, they didn’t look like plain clothes police officers, and she doubted that the observatory was their real destination.

  Douglas began to cry with full force now.

  “Mommy’s coming, Dougie!” she called out, but did not move from the spot. She tried to take in as much information as possible but found that, in addition to the car having no licence plates, it was completely black. It drove away, leaving the quiet street filled only with the sound of crickets.

  The lack of noise was also within the house.

  She couldn’t tell when it had happened but Douglas had stopped crying. She cautiously turned and moved quietly back through the living room. If he was asleep then she didn’t want to wake him, but then the thought occurred that there may be a more worrying reason and she started to increase the length of her steps.

  It only took a few seconds to reach him, but when she arrived she saw that Douglas was sitting upright on the rug’s edge. In her distracted state, she almost automatically began praising her baby.

  “Oh! Well done, Dou-” she stopped dead in her tracks and felt a chill run through her.

  The colourful band that ran around the circumference of the rug was broken in one place by the presence of her son, who was sitting bolt-upright. But it was not his posture that had caused her to stop.

  Her seven-month-old had arranged each of the wooden blocks into geometric types, that were further sorted into neat rows of red, green and blue. From his sitting position, he was looking at her, quietly.

  No, she thought, ‘looking’ was too passive a word.

  He was watching her.

  As she looked back at him she saw his focus suddenly slide away; his previously well controlled head suddenly seemed too heavy for him and it resumed the slight bob and weave she’d become accustomed to. Now lacking his former precision, he turned to look in her general direction.

  In the silent living room, Douglas suddenly continued screaming.

  The communication was primal, but conveyed all she needed to know. Although she’d been forced to stop feeding him, this was not a scream of hunger. This was anxiety. Even though he hadn’t left the living room or fallen asleep, he looked like he’d woken in an unfamiliar place.

  The room suddenly felt colder to her.

  Both she and her husband knew that Douglas was bright, but this seemed unfamiliar territory. The thought crossed her mind that somehow an intruder had arranged the shapes in front of Douglas and may still be in their house. Within seconds she’d scooped Douglas up from the rug and was holding him close. The cradling seemed to pacify him and his screams subsided into an occasional quiet whimper.

  “Ssh…” she whispered to him, while making her way slowly towards the back door.

  Walking through the small kitchen she could see the door was still closed and nothing looked out of place. Their back door had a lock but because they tended not to use it, it took her a few seconds to find and unhook the key from the kitchen cupboard. Cradling Douglas in her left arm, she extended her shaky right hand and the key towards the lock. The key rattled into place and a quick turn secured the door.

  Over the next few minutes she tentatively made her way around their single
storey house, turning on lights and checking for her hypothetical intruder. She found no-one, which was a source of relief but also unease.

  She resumed her bottle feeding of Douglas, who now seemed just as content as he’d been before the two grey-suited men had arrived. She rocked him gently and spoke to him constantly, until he eventually fell asleep in her arms. In the warmth of the sofa, it was his soft breathing that eventually quietened her thoughts and sent her to sleep too.

  Elizabeth awoke with a start, just after ten; the telephone was ringing on the table next to her. The ringing stopped as she quickly lifted the heavy handset, but the bells continued to reverberate for a little longer.

  “Hello?” she spoke quietly so that she didn’t wake Douglas.

  “Betty, it’s me…” Howard’s voice crackled.

  “Where are you?” she whispered urgently, “Is everything OK? The men…”

  “I’m fine,” he interrupted, “I’ll explain everything later.”

  She thought she could hear a jukebox playing and a lively atmosphere in the background.

  “Where on earth are you?”

  “Betty, I can’t say any more. I couldn’t call you any earlier, but I just wanted you to know that I’m alright. Listen, after I hang up, I’m coming straight home. When I get there, I need to tell you something very important.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her sleeping son.

  “I’ve got some important news too.”

  “I couldn’t hear you, honey, it’s a little noisy here. What did you say?”

  “Don’t worry, just get home soon.”

  “OK, see you soon. Love you.”

  She heard the line click and then she hung up her handset.

  “It’s OK,” she whispered to Douglas, “Daddy’s coming home soon.”

  REGISTRATION

  22nd August 1966

  The key, Douglas knew, was registration. To make the flick-book’s animation stable you had to make sure that things stayed in place from one page to the next; otherwise, when you flicked through, they wobbled, weaved and eventually crawled all over the place.

  “Five minutes, Douglas,” his mother called from the yard, taking clothes down from the washing line, “and then I’m driving you to school.”