By the time Zach estimated a million years had passed, most of the largest trees were gone, replaced by stubbier forms. Also gone was the lush undergrowth, replaced by a darker, thorny plant he didn’t recognize. By now, his vertigo had passed, and he made an effort to observe as much as he could, knowing he would be grilled by the scientists at the end of the session.
As the minutes passed, the scene changed with the climate. Vegetation all but vanished, then reappeared in different forms. Once, he was viewing a herd of thirty to forty camels being chased by what appeared to be a large, long-legged bear. He wanted to yell, “Stop!” to see what happened, only to have the scene shift to a rain downpour so heavy, he could only see twenty to twenty-five yards away.
Suddenly, he was back in the parlor where most of the sessions took place.
“That is the end of the recording,” said Simeon. “The last scene was from 17,422 years ago because it was the time from the previous 100,000-year interval.”
Zach had a thought. “Do you have scenes showing the first humans to come within recording distance of this location?”
“Possibly, Zach, but I cannot search the recording, only access it.”
“Zach,” communicated Ralph, “we think you can end the session now. Before you tell Simeon, confirm with him that the recordings can be accessed from now on. We wonder if this was a one-off event. As you can imagine, Simeon caused quite a stir in here.”
“Simeon, will these recordings be available from now on?”
“As far as I know, Zach, the answer is yes.”
When the VR tank opened, and Zach’s headgear was removed, Ralph’s pale face was the first thing he saw. “Well . . . as I said . . . that caused quite a stir back in the monitor room. Get yourself cleaned up and come join us as we try to figure out how much we’re going to believe of what Simeon said.”
Ralph left Zach alone to go to the corner of the room, where a simple shower had been set up. He stripped off the VR suit, rinsed off it and himself under the shower, quickly donned clothing, and went to the main room, where the entire Level 3 staff had gathered. Animated conversations were ongoing as he walked in, but it was a matter of multiple conversations between two or three people, not a general discussion of the group.
Sinclair had listened without speaking through most of the session and the following discussions among the entire Level 3 staff. He wasn’t as excited as most of the others, but then again, he had other responsibilities.
“Ah, here’s Zach,” said Huxler. “That’s everybody.”
“All right,” said Mueller, “let’s take this one question at a time. Should we believe Simeon that he has a continuous recording of the Object’s surroundings in great detail for the last twenty-six million years?”
Chunhua spoke first. “Do we have any evidence he’s ever lied to us?”
Several people began speaking at the same time before Mueller shushed them and pointed to Jeff Rotham.
“We’ve already had this discussion multiple times. We don’t have conclusive evidence of Simeon ever lying to us . . . yet. So the answer is . . . yes, he could be lying, although for some reason I doubt it. Maybe I think that way because I don’t see why he would lie to us about this.”
After fifteen minutes of discussion, the group came to the consensus they still didn’t know whether Simeon could lie.
“All right,” said Sinclair, “how about a more quantitative question? How much storage capacity is needed to record twenty-six million years of scenery in this much detail?”
Carolyn Graham and Zooty Wilson stood together in the back of the group, whispering to each other. Carolyn raised her hand but didn’t wait to be recognized. “We made a quick estimation of the required storage capacity. Naturally, it’s only a wild-assed guess. Still, we think a hugely conservative requirement would be more than all the storage capacity the human race has in the entire world—including data farms, computers, tablets, smartphones, and static portable storage such as flash drives and CDs.”
Ralph shook his head. “If anything, that is likely to be a gross underestimation. Video storage requirements are something I know a lot about, and I wouldn’t be shocked if your estimate is off by many, many orders of magnitude.”
“Granted, the technology behind Simeon is further beyond us than we know, how is it physically possible to store that much information inside the Object?” asked Klaus Christiansen.
“But aren’t you basing your doubts on our technology?” asked Zach. “How would you have explained to someone a hundred years ago how the entire Encyclopedia Britannica could be stored on a single flash drive?”
“Some kind of quantum technology?” asked Charles Adams. “Hell, for all we know, the data is stored in spin states or quark manipulation or who the fuck knows? We can assume the Object has far more advanced data compression methods than we’ve developed.”
“Does the Object’s data storage have to be here?” asked Jill. Huxler had brought her along when he was alerted to come to Level 3. “Maybe some kind of super hard drive on the moon or buried in the ground?”
“Well . . . I doubt it,” said Mueller, “but, once again, we can’t rule anything out.”
“That would mean the Object is in direct communication with this ‘somewhere else,’” said Adams. “How can that be from inside the Faraday cage?”
The discussion continued for half an hour. Huxler perceived that Sinclair was becoming progressively more restless until finally the general stood. “All right, people. What I’m hearing is we don’t know if Simeon is lying or how he could store that much information if he’s not lying. None of this helps, so I’ll leave you to come up with some recommendations on how, or if, this should be followed up.”
The staff waited in silence until Sinclair left, closing the door behind him. Then most of the people began speaking at once. Mueller rose, held up both hands, and said, “You heard Sinclair. What do we do with this?”
“It is not so much a question of what we may want to do with it but what can we do with it?” said Elizabeth. “If this is real, it’s one of the most significant scientific events in history. Imagine. We could literally observe the evolution of life and geology over the last twenty-six million years. Granted, it’s a single site, but I’d be surprised if the Object doesn’t have numerical data to go with the video. You know . . . temperature, humidity, and maybe, for all we know, atmospheric composition. And that’s not even considering the plant and animal life.
“Our understanding of Earth’s history and evolution would make what we currently know or believe insignificant. This would be a resource to occupy tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of scientists for the rest of their lives. And yes . . . that’s if Simeon is not deceiving us for some reason.”
“One way to get confirmation,” said Jeff, “is if these supposed recordings could be analyzed by a large number of geologists and biologists and then compared to the existing knowledge of the history of North America.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” said Huxler. “At least, not for the foreseeable future.” He paused. “Hmmm . . . now that I think about it, if this is real, it could be one of those buffering factors that’s been discussed for when the Object’s existence becomes public. Sinclair could point this out to the people higher up the chain, though I suspect they’d want something with more direct impact for the general populace.”
Zach had listened without comment. He understood the excitement and confusion among the staff, but he thought he needed to bring them back to the immediate.
“While I agree this is enormously exciting, isn’t it peripheral to our main goals? We want to understand more of what the Object and Simeon really are, their intentions. Is there any reason to suspect a threat? And, like Wilbur has already indicated, is there more we can get from Simeon to help influence public opinion when all this comes out?”
The discussion continued for another hour with no resolution for any action that should be taken in
response to Simeon’s claim. However, Mueller assured them that exploration of the recordings would be allowed as long as most of the VR sessions focused on the main objectives.
CHAPTER 33
EVERYONE LIKES A HAPPY GENERAL
Simeon’s revelation energized the Level 3 staff enough that both Willie and Logan passed the observation on to Zach.
“I don’t know what’s happening in there, Zach,” said Porter, “but half a dozen people have asked me what’s going on.”
Zach thought that abruptly cutting off the good mood would be just as noticeable, so he spoke with Jason, Mueller, and Rotham to help guide the Level 3 staff to tone it down. At the same time, he also realized he hadn’t been immune to Simeon’s surprise.
An Unhappy General
Zach had meant to check the site’s sign-out log after the group had hiked up to Baldy Ridge and he heard Eddie Wilcox had gone alone out of sight of the base. Yet one thing after another pushed the thought aside until one evening when he sat at the dinner table with Wilcox and listened to the radar technician ramble on about fossil hunting. For the next several days, he kept an eye on Wilcox and checked the log when he couldn’t find the technician. On the third day, he happened to see Wilcox walking in the direction of Baldy Ridge wearing a day pack. When Zach checked the log, Wilcox hadn’t signed out. The next morning, after he finished eating, Zach waited outside the dining hall until Wilcox was leaving, accompanied by the blonde radar technician Samantha “Sam” Beauford.
“Eddie,” he said, “can I see you for a second?”
Wilcox appeared surprised by Zach’s request. He whispered something to Sam. Then Zach motioned for them to move out of earshot of the other diners trickling out of the hall.
Zach didn’t beat around the bush. “I’ve noticed you going out alone several times. Alone meaning evidently going some distance from the site by yourself. I assume these hikes are for more fossil hunting?”
“Yes, we’ve hardly started to survey the area around the site. It’s an absolute gold mine of fossils!”
Wilcox didn’t know about Simeon’s recordings, which would eventually make some types of fossil hunting almost an arcane activity once word got out. However, fossils weren’t Zach’s concern.
“I can appreciate that,” Zach said, “but remember the procedures everyone is supposed to follow when leaving the site. One rule is that you’re never supposed to be out of sight of the camp alone. Second is that when you do go out, simply jot down in the logbook inside the main building’s door where you intend to go and how long you expect to be gone.”
Wilcox looked simultaneously a little abashed and irritated. “What’s the big deal?” he responded in a tone just short of a whine. “We’re a million miles from nowhere. Sometimes when I check out a fossil site, I see something promising just a little farther. I never go very far. What’s the difference?”
“Nobody wants to interfere with the fossil surveying,” said Zach, “or to stop anyone from taking the opportunity to stretch their legs, but we’re so isolated that there are some fundamental safety precautions we have to take. There are wild animals here. Certainly, wolves are potentially dangerous, and you could always run into a cranky musk ox, not to mention the remote possibility of polar bears. Although there haven’t been many of those, the potential danger from one of these bears is huge. But even more likely is what would happen if you got injured? Fell down a hole, broke a leg—who knows? Something where you couldn’t get back to camp, and we wouldn’t know where you were. In that case, if you were lucky, we would find you with a search party. But in a worst-case scenario, we wouldn’t find you, and you would die out there.”
Wilcox shrugged and mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I understand,” with a resigned murmur. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“That’s good, Eddie. I’ll be checking the logbook regularly. Be sure you do log in and out. I would hate to have to restrict your movements outside of the camp.”
Wilcox frowned. “What do you mean, restrict my movements? And who do you think you are?”
“Think of me as the new marshal in town. Except instead of clearing out rustlers, I’m here to be sure everyone stays safe. And if that means restricting what you can do, that’s exactly what will happen. If you don’t think I can do that, feel free to take it up with General Sinclair.”
Wilcox was about to say something further but stopped. He was cowed by the look on Zach’s face and Zach’s utter confidence in what he’d said.
“Okay, okay, no reason to get pushy. I’ll be good.” With that, Wilcox hurried off.
The warning to Wilcox prompted Zach to look for Wilbur Huxler. He found the counselor in his office, looking through what Zach recognized as personnel folders.
“You have a minute, Doc?” Zach asked.
“I see your calling me Wilbur is a bridge too far, Zach. I guess I have to be satisfied with Doc in place of Doctor or Doctor Huxler. Anyway, what’s up?”
“This place have anything like fire drills? You know, something beyond the briefings everyone gets when they first arrive?”
Huxler’s eyebrows squinted together. “You know . . . now that you mention it, we haven’t had one of Leo’s emergency station drills since you got here. I think we used to have them once a month, and it just passed by me that it’s been a while. I guess I’m a little surprised that Leo hasn’t noticed, but I know he’s feeling pressure from higher up, so it must have slipped his mind, too.”
“What kind of drill was it?” said Zach.
“Oh, nothing exotic. Everyone was supposed to assemble in the dining hall when the alarm sounded. They were to gather in assigned clusters, so if anyone was missing, it would be immediately obvious. That was the main purpose.”
“Okay, thanks, Doc. I think I’ll see the general about starting the drills again after I give it some thought.”
“Good idea,” was the first thing Sinclair said when Zach proposed restarting the drills. Then he frowned. “I shouldn’t have let this slip away. That’s an item a second in command would have caught. I’ll alert Jefferson for the future.”
“I will also propose that once we carry out a drill, I’ll have recommendations for changes,” said Zach. “I hear it’s been a while since the last time, and I’m pretty certain that people will be startled to hear the alarm again. I don’t think we should give an early warning that the drill is coming. It’ll let us see a worst-case response, and the chaos might make everyone a little more conscientious the next time.”
Sinclair nodded. “People thought of the drills as an annoying affectation of the military mind and didn’t take them too seriously at first until I chewed them out. It’s been long enough since the last drill that I’m sure this one will be a disaster. Let’s go ahead and do it during the sleep cycle. It’ll still be light outside this time of year.”
Two days later, at 3:00 a.m., Site 23 time, Zach watched Sinclair open the cover of a small box sitting on the shelf behind his desk.
“It’s tied into the site’s local net,” said Sinclair. “An alarm goes off in every room and every structure, followed by recorded instructions to immediately report to the dining hall. In theory, people should all be there within six minutes. At least, that was the timing I put in initially, not that I expected it to be met—one of those old military axioms. If something needs to be done in a fixed amount of time, tell your people it needs to be done faster than that. By the way, did you alert the new people what was coming? They’ll jump out of their skin at the alarm and have no idea what’s going on.”
“No, except I warned Jill Hardesty because of Bobby and told her not to tell anyone else. The rest will find out soon enough, especially when they leave their rooms and other people tell them what’s happening.”
“Okay, here we go,” said Sinclair, as he pushed the button. A nerve-wracking screech erupted from the small speaker in one corner of the room’s ceiling. The same sound was simultaneously emitted in every room and work area aro
und Site 23.
“Let’s head on downstairs to the dining hall where everyone is supposed to assemble,” said Sinclair. “I’ll be totally shocked if this isn’t some cluster fuck.”
Thirty minutes later, Zach watched the last two staffers enter the dining area. They were Charles Adams and Rachel Munoz. Everyone knew they were cohabiting.
“Nice of you to join us,” said Sinclair in a mild voice to the two last staffers. However, his eyes were as cold as any arctic ice and in stark contrast to his words. His demeanor shushed the din of conversation.
Sinclair glared at his audience. “Alert drills have a purpose.” His eyes swept over the now quiet assembly. “We work in one of the most extreme environmental conditions on Earth, with any assistance we might need many hours, even days away. Some of the work here is highly classified, so there are always unknown consequences from that.”
As Sinclair paused, some of his audience shifted uneasily in their seats at the anticipated coming chastisement. Others frowned at being lectured to, just because of some silly drill.
Sinclair continued. “Some of you may have forgotten the procedures for the drills. I put you down as simply dumb. Others think this is some asinine power trip of the officer in charge of this site. Those of you who think that way I consider common assholes. To those of you . . . the few of you . . . who actually did what you were supposed to, I congratulate you, even though I doubt you realize how important these drills are. This site is a UNIT!” By now, Sinclair’s voice had risen to a shout. “IN ANY EMERGENCY, EVERYONE HAS TO ACT TOGETHER. THAT MEANS EVERYONE DOING WHAT THEY’RE FUCKING SUPPOSED TO DO!!”
Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1) Page 43
