“But how did you keep the Canadians from eventually knowing about the Object?” asked Jason, amazed. “Surely, they must have seen it, and how did you build the site without the Canadians knowing?”
“Before the Canadians first reached the site, we set up a simple corrugated metal hut around the Object.”
“But how did you do that if you couldn’t get any closer than fifteen feet or so of the Object?” asked Zach.
Mueller and Sinclair both laughed, with Mueller responding, “I must say, it was quite an ordeal. We had brought materials to form a shed, along with parts of makeshift supports, chains, pulleys, and ropes. We slapped the shed together in only a few hours. The sides weren’t a problem, they went up pretty fast, but getting a roof over the thing resembled something out of the Keystone Kops. We finally rigged up a crane and got enough of a roof over the Object to hide it. Then, when the rest of the construction crew, including some Canadians, arrived, we built around the shed.”
Several of the audience shook their heads in wonder, appreciation, or dubiousness.
“And that really worked?” asked Jason. “You managed to construct this building around the Object and finish the entire camp, without anyone else knowing about the Object?”
“Well . . . what I described with a few words involved a couple months . . . but, yeah . . . we did succeed in keeping it secret, to everyone’s amazement, including mine.”
“Well . . . fuck me!” Willie exclaimed admiringly. He quickly noticed Jill sitting next to him. “Oh, sorry for the language.”
“Oh, don’t mind me . . . again. If ever I heard of a good excuse for such language, this qualifies.”
CHAPTER 14
COMMUNICATIONS
“Anyway . . . back to when we first began serious study of the Object,” said Mueller. “We brought in more equipment and tried different wavelengths and amplitudes, starting from a safe distance. By trial and error, we found the tolerated parameters. The best were microwaves, and the least were optical wavelengths—both for reasons we still don’t understand.”
“Once we settled on protocols that didn’t fry our equipment, it seemed as if the Object simply echoed back to us whatever we sent. That was until we sent a series of numbered pulses, one, a pause, two, a pause, three, and so on. At first, it echoed back the same number of pulses. Try to imagine our reaction when we stopped at twenty pulses, and it continued to forty.”
“Holy shit!” yelped Ralph.
“There was still some uncertainty whether the continuation might have been some kind of echo, but we discarded that remote possibility when we sent number series. For example, when we send even numbers starting at 2 and ending at 34, it continued to 100. Similarly with odd numbers. By now, there were several more scientists here. There were still some holdouts wanting to believe we dealt with some complex and fascinating natural phenomenon. The holdouts gave up only after we sent the first twenty numbers of the Fibonacci series and got the next twenty in return.”
“The what?” asked Willie. “The Figarow series?”
“Thank you, Willie . . . is it all right if I call you Willie? We’re usually informal here. You can call me Howard.”
“Sure . . . Howard. Call me any shit you want except Wilbur.”
“So . . . Willie. A Fibonacci series is a sequence of numbers where each one is the sum of the two previous numbers. You know. 1 + nothing is 1, 1 + 1 is 2, 1 + 2 is 3, then 5, 8, 13, and so on.
“We immediately went to more complex series for powers such as squares—1, 4, 9, 16, and so on, plus a few more. That HAD to prove the Object performed calculations—so it wasn’t simply a phenomenon. That’s when we started calling it the ‘OBJECT,’ instead of ‘the object.’
“As you can imagine, this news set off a flurry of activity. We don’t know exactly what followed next . . . well, maybe Leo knows more of the political history . . . but that’s when we set up a permanent base around the Object. Bringing in more people and equipment meant both the build-up of a support structure and creating plausible stories to hide the true purpose. However, it was arranged with the Canadians, and within a couple of months we had a half-dozen buildings and thirty to thirty-five personnel. Initially, we were divided into two groups, meteorological and radar sections as the initial cover and seven of us in a restricted building to study the Object.
“This arrangement lasted only a few months before the next big event. We exchanged number series for months. The series got more and more complex but were still just number series. We couldn’t get any other type of response, so we tried different approaches. If we sent series with some wrong elements, it would respond with the correct series and numbers. We sent a series of random numbers and received back a different random series.”
“So, was it telling you it recognized a random series, or was it saying if you wanted to play, it could, too?” asked Zach.
“Either or both. Who knew? Anyway, we didn’t feel we were getting anywhere when suddenly everything changed. The first thing that happened is it quit responding for exactly twenty-four hours. And when I mean ‘exactly,’ that’s precisely what happened. We later noted that the time from its previous response until it started again came as close to exactly twenty-four hours, meaning one earth rotation, as our instruments could measure. But that was only the first change and not even close to being the most dramatic. From those first attempts at probing the Object and when we found the Object couldn’t be moved, we kept a set of low-intensity lasers fixed on it to monitor changes—it had long since quit lasering back at us. Within about twelve hours of silence, the computer receiving the laser inputs sent out a programmed alert.
“Naturally, this caused an initial flurry. The kicker came when the readouts indicated the Object had moved in all dimensions. After at first thinking something was wrong with the monitoring, someone, I think Charles, suggested maybe the readings were right. But the only way for an immovable object to move in all dimensions was by growing. And that was it. In those twenty-four hours of silence, the Object grew in total volume by about 0.001 percent, keeping the same relative dimensions. It was as if it swelled. This was barely above the detection limits of our equipment; otherwise, we would never have noticed.
“There were two ways it could have grown. Either it expanded with its existing components, or it added new material. Initially, we assumed the first option, but to check on the possibility of the second, we reviewed camera recordings and could see nothing being ‘appropriated’ by the Object. You know, like a magnet attracts iron or something. Then we confirmed that the Object still hovered, which it did. We had previously noted that the ground immediately under and near the object was relatively low in some elements, but nothing beyond normal variations in nature. But when we checked again, we found a complete lack of several elements that had been present before. This extended farther out from the Object. Somehow—and believe me, we still have absolutely no idea how—we think the Object absorbed, mined, pulled, or who the hell knows what to call it, elements from the surrounding rock and incorporated them into itself.
“The next big change came when the Object resumed transmitting. Before we continue, are there any questions? Well . . . I suppose that’s inane because questions are something we have no lack of here—but anything?”
“What IS it?” Jason asked.
“We don’t know, exactly,” answered Mueller. “At first, all we could say for sure was it’s not a natural phenomenon. Only after it started broadcasting did we know we dealt with a level of technology far beyond anything on Earth.”
“What is it made of?” asked Zach.
“As far as we can tell, solid metal. We can detect no evidence of cavities of any kind.”
“What metals?”
“Again, with the caveat of ‘as much as we can tell,’ mainly molybdenum, cobalt, tungsten, with lesser amounts of chromium, iron, titanium, and a pretty full range of rare earths. The main components, especially molybdenum and cobalt, are associated with t
he ability to withstand extreme conditions such as heat. We use these commonly in alloys for aircraft parts, armor, and anything else that requires strength and heat and corrosion resistance. The rare earths are essential components of computer circuits and chips.
“Molybdenum is a puzzle. Our alloys use it as a trace element or, at most, up to ten percent. We think the Object is about twenty percent molybdenum.”
“Besides alloys, what else is molybdenum used for?” asked Harold.
“The most important natural use is in plants for nitrogen fixation and photosynthesis. For the latter, the role is still uncertain but seems to be essential, possibly linked to nitrogen fixation. Molecules of molybdenum, cobalt, or iron are cofactors for a number of enzymes essential for plant life. That role for molybdenum was initially discovered because a section of Australia is entirely devoid of plant life, even though the surrounding areas have a variety of plants. When scientists tested the soil, the only thing they could find different was that the regions with plant life had trace amounts of molybdenum. In contrast, the plant-deficient areas had no detectable molybdenum. Although it’s not confirmed, it’s now believed many other barren lands result from insufficient trace amounts of molybdenum. Now, what this might have to do with the Object is unknown . . . as seems to be all too common.
“Just this much information proved useful. Knowing something is possible is often half the battle in leading to solutions or something unexpected. In this case, the crude composition determinations we have made of the Object led us to suggest metallurgists look at alloys with similar compositions.”
“I assume they queried why they should try those combinations,” commented Andrew.
“Not too much,” replied Sinclair. “There’s a research lab working on armor plating, so they were used to being told to try strange things—usually, silly ideas from some brass. To their surprise, that proved to be enough of a lead to take them in directions they otherwise probably would not have taken. Preliminary tests indicate we will get armor plating three or more times as resistant to penetration and maybe personal armor to take the place of existing material such as Kevlar. There’s even speculation about an armor suit that infantry could wear on the battlefield that would resist almost all shrapnel and small arms but would still be light and flexible enough to fight in.
“But it’s not just military applications that may come of these alloys—saws and other edged tools that keep their edges many times longer, better shielding for the next generation of space shuttles, girders that don’t rust. Imagine a bridge with girders half the thickness of iron girders but twice as strong Think how this will change architectural design. The whole shape of civilization may change.”
“But what about cost?” asked Zach. “Aren’t these alloys going to be far more expensive than iron to work with since, for example, molybdenum is nowhere near as abundant as iron or, for that matter, aluminum?”
Mueller answered, “You’re right. The cost will be many times higher. This is the same problem we already have with titanium—a much better material than either iron or aluminum but that doesn’t come in rich-enough ores to be economical to produce, except for specialized applications such as fighter aircraft. However, preliminary testing indicates some of the new alloys may be effectively immortal, at least as far as humans are concerned. Imagine a bridge that won’t rust or weaken for thousands of years. Even with higher costs, the long-term savings will justify their use, although perhaps only in special cases where the construction is planned to last that long. And remember, even if, for example, humans decide in a hundred years to replace a new alloy bridge, the metal can simply be reused for new construction.”
At this point, Sinclair interrupted. “You’ll have time for this kind of discussion in the days ahead. For today, we need to move on. Howard, you’re on to the next big event.”
“Ah, yes. Then everything changed again. As I said before, the Object had ceased transmissions for twenty-four hours, and, as we later determined, it had actually grown in size by a small but measurable amount. When transmissions resumed, there was a difference. At first, we sent number series as before, but it wouldn’t respond. After some time, the same number series were sent back to us repeatedly but interspersed with numbers not belonging to the series. It took us only a few minutes to realize it was sending logical expressions. For example, two pulses, then a break, followed by what we at first thought were pulse groupings of random numbers, then a pause and two pulses again.”
Mueller excused himself and pushed through the group to a small whiteboard set up within the Faraday cage’s interior wall. He picked up a marker. “What we first perceived was a 2, a break, a string of numbers, and another 2.” On the board he wrote 2 – 4128 – 2. “Then a longer pause and repeat the previous pattern. Then the pattern changed.” Under the first set of numbers, Mueller wrote 7 – 4128 – 7 and 12 – 4128 – 12. “This continued for some time before changing.” Mueller turned again to the whiteboard and wrote 2 – 4128 – 2, 2 – 6299 – 3, 2 – 6299 – 11, and 4 – 4128 – 4.
“Equal and not-equal!” exclaimed Jason.
“EXACTLY,” Mueller responded excitedly. “The middle numbers were not a string of numbers. They stood for logical expressions; in this case, 4128 stands for equals, and 6299 for not-equal.”
“It was teaching you mathematics?” wondered Jill.
“No, it was initiating a dialogue,” half-whispered Ralph.
“That was our conclusion,” said Mueller. “From there, we took off, and by the end of the day, we established a basic mutual logic system. It was clear to us by the third day that the Object had far more capacity to interact than we did. Our end was at first limited by pencil and paper. We had some laptops, but nothing more powerful and no programmers. We sent our findings up the line, and that’s when the site really expanded.”
“And that’s where I reentered the picture,” said Sinclair. “I had retired, but it was prevailed on me to reactivate and oversee the further expansion. During the next two years, we built up both the facility you see now and the current staff. With additional staff, plus major computer equipment and personnel in information technology and linguistics, we developed a continuing dialogue with the Object.
“We won’t go into the details right now about how communication evolved. You’ll hear more later, and you have access to reports. Suffice to say, we’ve developed the ability for complex exchanges and are hoping the virtual reality system will access higher levels.”
Ralph had gradually become more agitated and by now had left his seat to stand in the rear. He rocked from foot to foot like a child impatient to open more Christmas presents when the adults wanted to go slow and methodical. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “Yes! Details later, but show us what you have right now. What’s the current status? What exactly is the level of communication? I don’t see how our VR system fits into all this. It’s designed for human complexity level exchanges.”
Sinclair smiled indulgently and turned to Mueller. “Howard, let’s say we postpone the rest of the history and introduce the other member of the project?”
Mueller laughed. “No problem, Leo. I was wondering who would break first. Please follow me.”
Mueller led the group from the Faraday cage to a small room off the main work area. Inside was an array of computer equipment and monitors. Working at two stations were Charles Adams and a fiftyish man with a ponytail and thick glasses. The latter brightened as he turned to see them, but Adams scowled, picked up some papers, and left the room.
“Time for introductions?” asked the other man.
“Yes, Zooty,” said Sinclair. “Mr. Ralph Markakis is particularly eager to watch how we communicate with the Object. Please help him out.”
Zooty Wilson turned to his keyboard, typed in something, then fiddled with a large input pad to his right. The main wall-mounted monitor came on to a cartoonish human head shown from the neck up, and a uniform light green background. The face seemed to be of
a middle-aged man with receding brown hair.
“Hello, Zooty,” intoned a baritone voice from the speakers mounted beside the monitor. “How are you today?”
Zooty watched Ralph’s face, then turned to the screen, “Hello, Simeon. As you see, we have some new people here today.”
Ralph gaped at the monitor. “You have absolutely GOT to be shitting me! No way!”
To a person, all the other newcomers stared at Ralph.
Jason broke the silence. “No way, what?”
“All this—”
Ralph’s voice squeaked unintelligibly as if his throat had constricted to a fraction of its normal size. He coughed twice and took several deep breaths.
“Everything they’ve been telling us and all the hints that there’s a lot more to come. Bringing us here. Our VR system has got to be related.”
“What are you talking about, Ralph?” said Harold.
“This!” exclaimed Ralph, pointing at the monitor. “This is from the Object in the Faraday cage!”
The room was small, which amplified the decibel level when the rest of the newcomers all spoke loudly at the same time. When Mueller and Sinclair attempted to bring order, raising their voices only added to the bedlam. Willie was the first to quit talking, followed shortly by Zach, who pointed both index fingers to the corner of his mouth after nudging Willie. The message was received. Willie generated a shrieking whistle that cut through everything and was painful to most people in the room. The instant silence was deafening.
“How very interesting,” said the monitor head that Zooty had called “Simeon.” “Before now, I had not witnessed many humans talking so much that nothing could be understood. It was interesting to watch how the noise produced by the large man with a beard stopped everyone from speaking. Is this how it is normally done?”
“Sometimes,” said Mueller, “at least when the noise level is so high, even someone in authority cannot bring order.”
Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1) Page 17
