The Bridge

by Simon Winstanley

The succinctness of the reply almost made him laugh.

  “I’d say that’s a fair assessment.”

  “Then why do you doubt the probe data?”

  The question took him off guard.

  “I don’t,” he said, “What makes you think that?”

  “In the context of our conversation, I summarise that you ran a primary level diagnostic to detect signs of data corruption. I can draw one conclusion. You do not trust the veracity of the data. Is that statement correct?”

  “No,” he frowned.

  “You trust the Eri probe data?”

  “Yes.”

  “There appears to be a discrepancy between statement and action, please can you explain?”

  He hadn’t expected the interrogation session to work this way around.

  Over the years, he’d had many conversations with Fai, most of which had been to examine her actual thought processes. Now, she was examining his. After giving careful consideration he attempted to explain the apparent discrepancy.

  “As an intelligent machine, Fai,” he began, “you don’t experience doubt. Even uncertainty can be expressed as a probability function. Would you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  “For a human, doubt is something different,” he said, “We often find it difficult to predict the outcome of chaotic events, particularly if the probability of the end state is low. Our self-preservation tells us to favour inaction, even when logic tells us to do the opposite.”

  Fai’s control room remained quiet for a moment, while she considered his response.

  “You were acting to delete an internal restriction and restore your core functionality.”

  He couldn’t help letting out a laugh.

  “I don’t think I could’ve phrased it better.”

  INTERFACE

  Raven stared at the video call that was coming from New Houston. She could see the logic of what Lana was telling her, but the way it was to be announced frustrated her.

  “And Dad’s OK with it?” she folded her arms.

  “He still thinks Brightman is a ‘total fame-junkie’,” Lana mimed air-quotes, “but he agrees with me.”

  “OK,” she sighed, “Where are you going to do it? Houston?”

  “Greenwich,” Lana shook her head, “Geographically neutral.”

  Being the equatorial point where the cylinder’s East met West, Raven could see it made a great deal of sense.

  “I’ll be there, Mama,” she said.

  “Raven, it’s OK, you -”

  “This is important,” she interrupted, “I’ll be there.”

  “I know that look,” a smile creased Lana’s mouth, “Clearly, I’m not going to talk you out of it.”

  “Not a hope,” Raven smiled back, “See you soon.”

  The video link ended and she looked back at Marcus.

  When Lana’s call had come in, she’d had to place him on hold; he was still frozen in place behind the glass. She knew that, unfortunately, their interactive discussion would have to wait, but she really didn’t want to stop now. Picturing Lana holding her earpiece, a thought occurred to her.

  “Fai, could you create an earpiece for me, like the one Lana has?”

  “Yes.”

  “But connect it to Marcus instead?”

  There was a short pause, then Fai replied.

  “Interactivity would be limited.”

  “Because I wouldn’t be able to see him?”

  “Yes, but also because his program is centralised to the sub-server within this room.”

  She saw the problem: the further she went from this room, the longer it would take for Fai to route data between Marcus and her earpiece.

  “Then could you create a self-contained, mobile device to hold his program?”

  Fai paused. It seemed that she was busy assessing the request.

  “Yes,” a small section of wall lit up to display a schematic diagram, “The device would be similar to the ones carried by Mat Kaufman and Pavna Jones, when they explored the ARC.”

  Although she knew the names were linked to the Sea-Bass and her grandmother, she couldn’t recall too much more about them. The device seemed perfect though.

  “Fai, please begin fabricating it,” she said.

  “Understood.”

  Raven turned to face Marcus.

  So many aspects of her life had begun to make a change for the better today. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, she felt a growing sense of optimism; a feeling that she was shedding an oppressive weight.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Fai, please resume the program.”

  Marcus unfroze and immediately appeared to do a double-take.

  “Whoa!” he looked around, “Was there a glitch?”

  “I don’t think so, why?”

  “You just jumped from here,” he pointed to the spot opposite him, “to where you are now.”

  Raven thought she knew what had happened. She’d moved during her conversation with Lana, but Marcus hadn’t been active at the time. From his perspective, Raven’s jump had been instantaneous.

  “Sorry,” she walked back to face him, “I think it was because your program was on hold.”

  “Yeah, let’s not do that again,” he said, “That was bastard horrible.”

  She couldn’t help grinning at him. The curse was obviously a nuance inherited from a recording somewhere, but it seemed completely consistent with her grandfather’s character. Suddenly the idea of transferring him to a mobile device without asking his permission seemed rude.

  “Fai’s worked out a way to make your program mobile.”

  “Hang on,” Marcus looked around at his small room, “I could leave here?”

  “I could even show you around the Eridanus,” she said, “I think.”

  He grinned, “I’ll pack a Go-bag. When do I leave?”

  In relief, she grinned back at him.

  “Not for a while,” she said, “Fai’s got to make the device first.”

  “OK,” he sighed, “It’ll give me time to look into… you know…”

  Raven looked at the display surface between them. It was now plastered with Marcus’ new links to Fai’s public data records.

  “Listen,” she said, “I have to go.”

  Marcus nodded, “The call you took from Lana?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “OK, but do me a favour?” he said, “Leave the lights on?”

  She knew he was actually talking about leaving his program running.

  “Fai, is it possible to run this program without using the room’s display?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait a minute!” Marcus called out.

  “It’s alright,” she said, “I’m just thinking that if anyone else walks in here, they’ll find you. Maybe it would be better to keep your research private for now.”

  “Oh,” he frowned, “I guess that sorta makes sense.”

  She looked at the dark room he occupied.

  “Fai, why did you place him in a black box?”

  “I have no need for skeuomorphic representations. The blank template was selected when the program was initiated.”

  “So…” she said, “It could be anything then?”

  “The environment can be changed to fit the user’s perception.”

  A link labelled ‘Environment’ appeared on the glass wall.

  “I guess I could change the desktop wallpaper,” Marcus smiled, “But as soon as that fancy mobile thing’s ready…”

  “Transfer you,” Raven completed.

  “I’d still quite like to get out of here,” he nodded.

  “Fai, make sure you transfer him the moment it’s ready.”

  “Understood.”

  “Thanks,” he said, “See you later.”

  Crossing his fingers, he turned to the link and pressed it.

  His program appeared to temporarily freeze, then the glass-like display faded to become a blank wall again.

  Somewhere
in there, she thought, he was continuing to reconstruct the chain of events.

  CHAIN

  Marcus pushed the button and the main surface airlock slid open. He stepped forward onto the deck and, for a moment, he let the slow wind blow around him.

  He’d been out here an hour ago when the Britannia had first surfaced, but the salty smell of the cold air again compelled him to inhale deeply before proceeding.

  Allowing his eyes to adjust to the night, he looked out beyond the dimly lit deck. The view had become a little cloudier than before; a mottled patchwork of dark grey against the darker sky.

  Spotting that Nathan was standing further along the deck, he set off towards him. Although it was only slight, he could feel the motion of the Britannia as it moved in sync with the waves beneath; a subtle reminder that, despite the solidity of the sub, they were still at the mercy of the elements.

  Nathan wasn’t to blame for the tectonic pummelling that the lunar shards had delivered to the Earth’s crust. However, he seemed to be taking the slow progress of the seabed mapper very personally; as though their being lost was somehow his fault.

  As Marcus got closer, he could see him staring at the sky, fingers flickering to and fro in calculation. It seemed that he’d resorted to testing his knowledge of maritime navigation.

  Marcus arrived at his side, “What’s up?”

  “The stars,” Nathan pointed skyward.

  “Ha,” Marcus imitated a laugh, but it didn’t seem to break Nathan’s concentration.

  “The constellations…” he extended his arm and made a twisting motion with his hand, “We know we’re somewhere in the Pacific.”

  “Do we?”

  Nathan turned and frowned at him, as though the question was trivial.

  “It’s the only place that the lunar fragment cluster isn’t visible,” he shrugged, then arranged his arm horizontally in front of him, “which means we’re below the Tropic of Capricorn, maybe as far as the forty-fifth parallel south. I just can’t get the longitude.”

  Marcus spotted an opportunity to relieve some of Nathan’s anxiety, at the same time as mocking his obvious intelligence.

  “I think you mean the forty-seventh parallel,” he tutted, “Moron.”

  Nathan twisted on the spot, obviously concerned at the idea that he’d miscalculated something. But on seeing Marcus’ expression, his shoulders relaxed and he rolled his eyes.

  “You alright?” Marcus checked.

  “Just concerned for the others in the chain,” he replied.

  Marcus pictured the long line of vessels that had left the ARC to make their way to the Agrippa community on the equator. Last to leave, the Britannia had been following everyone else.

  “I’m sure they’re gonna be alright,” Marcus reassured him, but wasn’t entirely sure if the words of comfort were for Nathan or himself.

  “I’ve been going over it all,” Nathan drew a circle in the air, then appeared to indicate a point on the circumference, “The Iseult was ahead of us on the sonar, but it would’ve been close to the boundary of the anomaly.”

  “Well that’s why I came to get you,” Marcus pointed his thumb back over his shoulder, “Rachel says she’s got sonar back.”

  Turning swiftly, they both headed back to the main surface airlock.

  “You could’ve used the comms,” Nathan tapped at his wristband.

  “Just wanted the fresh air to be honest,” Marcus admitted.

  Looking ahead of him, Marcus saw that the sky was no longer black, but a gradient that transitioned to a dark-blue band just above the horizon. Dawn was on the way.

  “Did Rachel say if anything was on the scope?”

  “No, but she was talking with Vaz about clearing up a shadow.”

  Nathan’s pace across the deck increased.

  FLOOR 44

  The Eridanus studio, housed partway up the Greenwich Hub tower, was a comfortable reminder of a more stable period in Earth’s history; electronically-streamed news and social broadcasts gave people the sense that they were in control of events that were going on in their small world.

  Ivan was well aware of the artificiality of it all, but it was the best way to deliver their news. In a few moments he and Lana would be able to relieve some of the anxiety that was surrounding the idea of settling on Eri. They would just need to navigate the ‘human interest’ questions first.

  Sitting on the brightly-coloured sofa, he turned to face Lana next to him.

  “You OK?”

  “Da,” she gave a nod, but then added, “She said she’d be here.”

  “I know,” he looked past the glaring lights to the darker area beyond, “I’m sure she’s just delayed.”

  Lana was about to reply when the show’s host arrived.

  Sitting down in the matching seat opposite them, Trudy checked through a paper notepad filled with handwritten notes.

  If the rumours he’d heard were true, she’d adopted paper to avoid the possibility of anyone being able to access her notes digitally. Personally, he thought it might be another of her affectations: in their world of digital devices, using something so overtly analogue made her more recognisable.

  Trudy posed herself within the chair, then turned to them both.

  “Let’s go!” she smiled then nodded to her cameraman.

  “Cue titles,” a voice replied.

  Both Ivan and Lana sat up straight and drew a breath; there was no turning back now.

  Between the chair and sofa, a monitor came to life and an upbeat title sequence began to play.

  Looking very much like an old shampoo commercial, he thought, Trudy whipped her head around sending her short hair flying out in slow motion before bouncing to frame her smiling face. A glossy, reflective wipe transitioned into a synth-sax accompanied montage. Over a series of shots she smiled and engaged with members of the public, nodded thoughtfully in consideration of something, and walked purposefully aside several Eridanus landmarks. Chunky, shiny letters that contained the various pieces of footage, began twisting into place.

  “On in five… four…” the cameraman counted down.

  Trudy leaned slightly forward and seemed to prepare her hair.

  The titles concluded with a sustained high sax note, then a handwritten ‘Trudy’ superimposed itself over the larger surname capitals.

  The cameraman pointed at her.

  In a practised move that copied the title’s intro shot, Trudy smiled and swung fully upright. Here, in the slightly lower gravity, her hair duplicated the same slow motion bounce. A cynical thought crossed his mind that perhaps the studio had been sited here for that very purpose.

  “This is floor forty-four,” she smiled, “I’m Trudy Brightman.”

  She turned to face them and Ivan saw a red indicator light up on the periphery of his vision; presumably viewers were now being treated to a wide shot of the three of them.

  “With me today,” Trudy continued, “I’m honoured to have two guests, Eridanus founders Lana Yakovna and Ivan Meznic. Lana, Ivan, thank you so much for being here today.”

  “Thank you,” Lana was doing her best to smile genuinely.

  “Thanks,” he wasn’t sure that his facial arrangement was any better.

  Trudy’s smile segued into an expression of sincerity.

  “As parents, I do hope you won’t mind me offering you both a big congratulations to Raven on her promotion to the big seat.”

  With an animated whoosh, the monitor updated to display a stock image of the Luóxuán Biotech building, and a separate photo of Raven that had been taken whilst still at Gant High School. He’d quite lost track of how much growing-up his little girl had done. He found himself smiling at the image; it hardly seemed five minutes since she was preparing for a school play.

  “Now… the events outside Helix Station,” Trudy’s voice became sympathetic, “That was quite a scary thing, right?”

  “Yes,” Ivan nodded, “we didn’t think her first day was going to turn out that way.�
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  Trudy tilted her head slightly.

  “I was meaning the poor man who was hospitalised,” she twisted his response, “but, yes, I’m sure it must have been awful for you too.”

  She turned away from Ivan and looked down the lens of the camera.

  “Incidentally, our thoughts are with Mr. Kavanagh and his family, and we wish him a speedy recovery.”

  Ivan could see the monitor had switched to display a different photo, featuring the bruised and bandaged man surrounded by his family. Trudy was obviously trying to portray the man as a victim and, at the same time, infer that he and Lana were somehow emotionally detached individuals. From the sound of Lana’s frustrated drawing of a breath, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

  Trudy turned back to address them both.

  “Other than these unfortunate events,” she gave a tight-lipped smile, “Seeing Raven become CEO, it must have been quite an emotional day.”

  Clever, he thought. If they reacted unemotionally now, it would definitely make them appear detached. Although he now found it difficult to formulate a response that wouldn’t involve swearing at Trudy’s devious approach, Lana managed a truthful reply.

  “Like any parents, we love our child,” she said, “Our daughter is an intelligent woman who will now make changes for the better.”

  As he smiled at Lana, she twitched an eyebrow up and down very slightly at him; a micro display that she was delighted to have put the abrasive host in her place.

  Trudy seemed to pick up on something and glanced down her notepad.

  “Your adopted daughter takes over the reigns of office from Dr. Chen Tai, a man who gave his latter years to the Eridanus welfare program. Presumably it will now be easier for Raven to get access to the genetic suppressors she took as a child?”

  Ivan’s mind raced.

  When Raven was only five they’d stopped giving her the genetic inhibitor drug requested by her birth mother. It had been a hard decision to make, but they’d done it to protect their family from potential extortion. Although Fai had encrypted the records of Raven’s origin, the medical records were another matter. He could only think of one person that the information could have come from. He could also see where Trudy was going with this line of questions, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.