Ice Moon 4 Return to Enceladus

by Brandon Q Morris

Valentina smiled haughtily. “Yes, the singularity—the point at which everything changes, and when machines learn to think. I don’t think this poses such a grave danger. At least nothing indicates it so far. We make the algorithms more and more powerful, but they do not become as clever as a human. They can solve problems better and faster, and a lot of money can be made through this, but they do not become creative or develop a consciousness—like your Marchenko here.” She pointed at Francesca’s suitcase. “But even if the singularity came true, it would be best if we reached that point first, and not our competitors.”

  Martin shook his head in disapproval but did not say anything.

  “By the way, the computer sits below us in a large water tank, which provides cooling and radiation shielding,” the Russian woman said.

  They left the lab through another corridor and reached a kind of workshop.

  “Please come closer.” Valentina guided the group forward. She stood in front of a large table that had a metal frame. “Look there!”

  Something was moving in the center of the table.

  “Like little ants,” Amy said.

  “Just take one,” Valentina replied. “They are not dangerous.”

  Amy reached over the table, picked up one of the tiny objects, and placed it on her palm. It was not an ant. It wasn’t an animal at all, but a machine. It had six or eight limbs that were constantly moving. Amy looked more closely. The arms or legs—or whatever they were—did not move aimlessly. They swept across a part of the creature. No, this was not just a part of itself, it was almost the same ant, only smaller. The thing was making a copy of itself!

  “Wow,” Amy said, and for the first time here in Akademgorodok she was truly amazed.

  “These are our fabricators,” Valentina explained. “They must be about the twelfth generation?” She gave Shostakovich a questioning look and he nodded. “Yes, the twelfth,” she said. “Right now they can only make copies of themselves. Our first goal is to shrink them even further. And then we want to learn how to program them. This will revolutionize manufacturing.”

  “When?” asked Martin.

  “In twenty years, at the earliest,” Shostakovich said. “Currently we could compare it with the time when the mass production of automobiles was developed. In that sense, it was still a long way from there to self-driving cars.”

  “Nanomachines,” Francesca said.

  “We try to avoid that term,” Shostakovich replied. “It has negative connotations from science fiction. This here is reality, not sci-fi. These are fabricators, the means of production of the 22nd century.”

  “How small are they supposed to become?”

  “Our goal is to let them manipulate individual atoms. Then they can produce practically anything from almost any material.”

  “What about the dangers?”

  “Do not be silly, Signora Rossi. Even if we use genetic algorithms to optimize them, they are machines, dumb, inanimate matter that only does something due to our programming. Fabricators are no more dangerous than a stone ax. But of course our ancestors could kill their neighbors with a stone ax. The maker of a stone ax could not prevent that inevitability.”

  Francesca did not seem to be convinced. “I have an idea why you are publishing so few of your results.”

  “Genetic algorithms?” asked Jiaying.

  “Excuse me, that was a buzzword I used accidentally,” Shostakovich explained. “It has nothing to do with genetics, but we shall cover that in a moment. No, we make the machines compete for resources. The survivors are the ones that duplicate themselves more quickly. We noticed this also advances miniaturization, since smaller machines require less material.”

  No one spoke. They were either impressed with how vigorously research was pushed forward here—or they were shocked speechless. There seemed to be no fundamental constraints here. Could they rely on such a partner? Probably yes, if both sides could achieve their goals without standing in each other’s way.

  “I would like to show you another lab,” Valentina said as she resumed her role as guide.

  They walked through a subterranean corridor to a kind of airlock, where they had to put on special suits with oxygen masks.

  “Do not worry, this is not for your protection but for ours—to prevent contamination of the lab by our visitors,” Valentina said. With identical suits and the masks on, it was difficult to distinguish individual members of the group. Only the height gave any indication of who was who. Then a few scientists joined them, so now Amy was completely confused. At least their tour guide identified herself by speaking up.

  “You might be surprised—if not shocked—by what you are about to see. I can assure you, though, that none of the animals here are suffering. Animal welfare has the highest priority for us.”

  What was that introduction supposed to mean? Amy was almost afraid when the door opened, but then she saw what resembled a completely normal lab. Poultry, consisting mostly of different breeds of chickens, sat in clean cages. The animals seemed well cared for, had enough space, and everything was spotlessly clean. A person in a protective suit approached them.

  “This is Oleg. He is responsible for our genetic engineering program.” Through the mask, Valentina’s voice sounded strange. Oleg raised a hand and waved.

  “In this lab we attempt to combine traits that are practical, but would never be combined the normal way. It is a real pity that one species might develop the ability to withstand cold, but that is denied to other species who might also profit from it.”

  Oleg pointed at two rows of cages. “These chickens, for instance, are adapted to cold. But warm temperatures do not harm them, as you can see here. Follow me.”

  He led the group to a heavy metal door and opened it. Icy air blew at them. “This is our low-temperature lab. You see the animals? They are just as mobile at minus 40 degrees as they are at plus 20 degrees. They even lay eggs.” The man pointed at a basket filled with eggs. “I assure you the eggs might be frozen, but they are edible.”

  “And the treatment has no side effects?” asked Amy.

  “It is not a treatment in the narrowest sense. We change the germ line,” Oleg replied. “The animals are born this way. And yes, the high basal energy rate in the cold does reduce their lifespan. And require extra food. But you surely know the lifespan of poultry in industrial farming is shorter than that of animals in the wild.”

  The enthusiasm of the group was restrained. Maybe they had reached the limit of what they could take in at one time. Amy was really longing for a bed, and for Sol.

  “You probably wonder why I am showing you this.” No one nodded, but Oleg continued anyway. “There is a place that offers a great challenge to humanity: outer space. This science could mean no reduced calcium content in the bones, a better tolerance against radiation. Those would clearly be ideal traits for cosmonauts. We believe humanity has to alter the species in order to become a spacefaring race. That is what our research program is all about. Thank you for your attention.” Oleg then took a bow.

  Valentina led them back to the locker room. Amy felt the stress of the last few days. Let’s just get out of here, she thought.

  “Hayato, could you please help me?” asked Francesca. Her suit had somehow gotten tangled with the suitcase. Hayato briefly opened the case and closed it again.

  “Thanks, that’s better,” Francesca said.

  At the exit, Shostakovich was waiting. “A driver will take you to the airport. I am very curious to hear about your individual decisions. What did you think of Valentina, by the way?”

  No one said anything, so Amy sacrificed herself. “She seems highly competent.”

  “Well, that is very good to hear, because Valentina is my daughter. She will accompany you on your journey to Enceladus. You will need someone who knows how to handle the laser.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Martin said. “I am familiar with the 5-kilowatt laser of ILSE.”

  Amy noticed Jiaying giving her bo
yfriend a surprised look. Had he just decided to come along? Or was he trying to keep a stranger from being on board?

  “I am afraid your knowledge would not be sufficient, Mr. Neumaier,” Shostakovich replied. “We have a complex system consisting of a fusion reactor, energy storage, and a laser. I would have to train you for two years, and we do not have that much time.”

  “That was an interesting bit of information to save for right at the end,” Amy said. “When are we supposed to get started?”

  “As soon as you are ready. We will send Marchenko to the Icarus asteroid via radio data transmission, and while he is on an intercept course for ILSE, you will be traveling toward the rendezvous point in one of my small spaceships. The sooner we begin, the better. Maybe by the end of next week?”

  Amy shivered, even though the room was rather warm. She would have only a few days to make a decision, but at the same time, she felt as if the die had been cast long ago.

  January 2, 2049, West Virginia

  Of course his father had been excited when he announced his visit. This played through Martin’s mind as he drove along the freshly-coated asphalt road that accessed the research institution. Upon arrival, Martin had to stop at the sentry barrier that stood at the entrance. He showed his ID to the security guard.

  “Welcome, Mr. Neumaier.” the guard said, “Your father is expecting you in the Jansky Lab. Ask for directions over there at the gate, if you need them,” the man said, pointing toward the west. Martin steered the rental car along the narrow road. Was it really a good idea to ask his father, of all people? He shook his head. Maybe not, but it couldn’t hurt, either. Anyway, he was looking forward to seeing his ‘old man’ again.

  After parking the car, Martin headed to the Jansky Lab. The building was surrounded by scaffolding, an indication of ongoing renovations. A middle-aged blonde looked through a window next to the entrance door. She must have seen him coming and waved him toward her.

  “Come on, sweetie,” she called.

  Sweetie? What’s up with that? Martin approached her cautiously, but she didn’t seem threatening.

  “So, you are the gorgeous son of the boss!” the woman remarked. When Martin got closer to her, he immediately noticed the heavy makeup and an overpowering rose-scented perfume.

  “Yes, I guess that must be me. Though as far as gorgeous is concerned...” He gazed down at his body.

  “Oh, and he is even modest. How sweet. Wait here, I’m coming out and will take you to your father.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Martin said, “Really, I can find him on my own.” But the woman was not to be denied, and was already on her way to guide him. As they walked through the building, she chattered nonstop at him. Martin was sorely tempted to put his fingers in his ears to block her prattle, but he was too polite to do so.

  After five seemingly-endless minutes, they finally reached a door and the woman opened it. Martin noticed a man working at a desk. Startled, the man abruptly jumped up from his chair. It was Robert, his father.

  “Mary, I have asked you to knock first,” Robert said, slightly annoyed, but then he recognized his son. “Oh. Thank you very much, Mary.” He turned toward Martin and they hugged each other. “It’s so great that you could make it… and a belated Happy New Year!”

  Martin realized he had forgotten to call his father beforehand. “The last few days have been very stressful,” he said.

  Robert nodded. “And you didn’t bring Jiaying? What a pity.”

  “No, I would like to talk with you about something concerning her. I am sorry to jump to the issue right away, but it concerns me, too.”

  “Should we take a little walk in the woods?”

  Martin looked toward the hallway. The door was still open and Mary had disappeared only a moment ago. Robert noticed his cautious gaze and smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry, there is a back way out.”

  A few minutes later their steps crunched through the snow. It was cloudy, and the forest shimmered in various hues of gray. It looked like Christmas, and Martin wondered why it struck him this way.

  “You wanted to celebrate Christmas together, the three of you, didn’t you?” asked Robert.

  “Oh… the miscarriage. Let’s not discuss that. Jiaying decided to repress it and I’m following her wishes. There’s no issue between us about it.”

  “But maybe it will become one later.”

  “Who knows? Right now I am worried about something else. We received an offer we cannot refuse.”

  He told his father about Nikolai Shostakovich and the billionaire’s plans.

  “That does sound very exciting. I would agree right away,” Robert said.

  “You see, for me the answer isn’t quite so simple,” Martin said. “During the last few months, I realized I enjoy the work in my office. I lived in that tin can for two years. Enough is enough.”

  “If you’re so sure about it, you should stay here on Earth, of course.”

  Martin did not answer. There was a pause. In the distance they heard the call of a blue jay.

  “You are not really so sure, I see,” his father finally said. “I am starting to guess why you came to me. Back then I decided to follow a different path which took me away from your mother.”

  “Even though I was in the equation,” Martin added. “There must have been very important reasons.”

  “If that’s supposed to be a question, it’s not fair,” Robert replied. “Yes, back then those reasons seemed important to me. Today they don’t any longer, and if I’d known then what I know today, I believe I would have decided differently. But you cannot apply that to your situation. You can’t know what is going to happen.”

  “Yes, that’s my problem. Should I join an expedition I don’t want to be on, just to be close to Jiaying?”

  “If you hoped I would give you some decisive advice, I am going to disappoint you. I think Jiaying needs you, just like your mother and you needed me back then. But if you go along, against your inclination, the voyage could become your worst nightmare.”

  “What are you trying to say?” asked Martin.

  “I can tell you how I arrived at my decision back in those days. It sounds absurd, but my father taught me the method.”

  Martin smiled. “Okay... it sounds absurd. How does it work?”

  Robert reached into his pocket. “You flip a coin. Heads you stay—tails you go.”

  “Just a moment. Did you flip a coin to decide whether to leave us?” Martin wasn’t sure whether to be amused or shocked.

  “Yes, but it’s not like you think.”

  “I can’t have my life decided by chance.”

  “Chance determines so much in our lives, so one more occasion doesn’t really matter.”

  Martin exhaled, and his breath formed a cloud in the frosty air.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “That’s the very reason to do it this way.” Robert held out the coin.

  “You flip it,” Martin said.

  “No, or else you will blame me if things go wrong.”

  “Okay.” Martin took the coin, threw it upward with his right hand, caught it and enclosed it in his left hand. He then quickly flipped both palm and coin onto the back of his right hand. He hesitated, the coin sandwiched.

  “Don’t you want to know?” his father asked.

  Martin shook his head.

  “Do you already know it?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Then take away the hand that covers it.”

  “I don’t dare to.”

  “It’s just a coin.”

  “True.” Martin lifted his hand. He saw it was tails.

  “Congratulations. You are going back into space!”

  Martin stared at the coin.

  “How are you feeling about it?” asked Robert.

  “I don’t know.” Martin listened to himself. “But I think it feels... good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it is right and proper.
I am going to accompany Jiaying. That is my path.”

  “I am glad about it.”

  “Do you think I would have felt differently if the coin had shown heads?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps a parallel universe came into being during the coin flip, one in which you stay behind.”

  “If this were a novel, I would ask the author to tell the second version of the story, too.”

  “You read too many fairy tales as a kid, Martin.”

  “It’s called fantasy.”

  “Life is no novel, no matter the genre,” his father said.

  January 3, 2049, Ishinomaki

  Twilight still dominated the day. When Amy woke up, the night had seemed to be on the wane, but that had not changed perceptibly in the last six hours. She breathed to the rhythm of her steps while walking up the slight incline to the Ozaki lookout point. Amy gazed to the side. Hayato, whose breath came out in clouds like hers, was staring at the ground. Now and then he touched her arm to warn her of roots sticking out that could trip her up. Sol was with Hayato’s parents, where he was happy. The two of them had decided on the walk so they could discuss the future without being disturbed.

  Now the forest retreated. The sandy path ended further in the low underbrush, two meters from the edge of the cliff line. It was here that someone had placed a simple wooden bench, so they were able to sit down. Amy had been sure they would enjoy the wonderful view together, and she was not disappointed. The Japanese really have a knack for this kind of detail, she thought as she took in the panorama before her. Without moving, she could see the harbor of Ishinomaki to their right and the open sea to their left. The horizon was hidden behind low clouds, but nevertheless they could clearly see the other side of the bay. Amy imagined another couple just sitting down on a bench over there. What might they be talking about?

  The Pacific, which spread before them, was true to its name today. The water was smooth as a mirror, but that was not always the case. Hayato’s parents spoke of their experience during the great tsunami of the Tohoku earthquake in their youth. The waves hitting the coast here were supposed to have reached a height of over 30 meters, channeled and guided by the two arms of the bay that reached out into the sea. Amy tried in vain to detect any traces of the event—though the newness of the local houses was evidence of the catastrophe. Traditional as it may look, she knew her in-laws’ house was only 37 years old. It dated back to 2011, the year after the disaster.