Sleeping Giants

by Sylvain Neuvel

  —Wait. It could also be 2 x 2 = 4. How can you be certain it is not multiplication?

  —That’s why there are so many sequences. We can use other formulas with the same symbols to verify our hypotheses. Here we have the same symbols used with other numbers. If this were a multiplication, it would read like 3 x 2 = 5, but it works if it’s an addition.

  —What of that little line on the left? You ignored it. Is it not a symbol like the others?

  —It’s definitely a symbol. I was getting to that. That vertical line appears at the end of every formula, except for two that end in a small square. The vertical line seems fairly pointless until you look at the two formulas with the square. If my interpretation is correct—and I’m pretty sure it is—these two would read 2 + 1 = 1, and 4 x 3 = 10.

  —But that is wrong…

  —I think that’s the point. The vertical line tells us that the equation that precedes is true, and the square tells us that it’s false. These two symbols might be the most important ones. Obviously, we now have symbols for true and false, but these are such powerful concepts, they might also be used outside of mathematics. If you look at my notes, you’ll see that both symbols also appear next to each other on the console. True and false don’t seem that useful for piloting a ship, but they probably use the same symbols for something similar, like yes and no, go and stop…Ryan thinks it’s likely akin to proceed, cancel…something like that.

  —Mr. Mitchell? I did not know you discussed this with anyone but Dr. Franklin.

  —Well, we basically live in a bunker, the four of us. I have my own little area where they installed the panels but—how do I put this?—I get bored…So I nose around a little. We went out for a drink a few times. Actually, they went out for a drink a few times and they felt bad about leaving me here so they asked me to tag along. Rose and I have gotten to know each other a lot more, since I report to her, but I like hanging out with Ryan and Kara. Ryan’s a nice guy. He’s a little too Captain America at times, but he grows on you.

  I like Kara. She doesn’t open up much, with us, anyway. I don’t think she has someone to talk to on the outside either. I don’t know how she does it. She seems to be coping well, though. It could just be a facade, but if it is, she’s good at it. Either way, we seem to get along OK. We have the same kind of humor. Dark…we say pince-sans-rire.

  —Deadpan.

  —Yes. Probably a little too deadpan. Ryan thinks we’re just mean.

  —So…please correct me if I am mistaken. You are saying the panels are a key to understanding whoever built this, through mathematics. You have discovered symbols for addition, multiplication, equality, truth and falsehood, as well as the numbers one through seven.

  —We have a lot more than that actually. The formulas also include symbols for subtraction and division. Most importantly, we can interpret any number, if I got this right. As one would expect, some of the formulas have results that are higher than 7. Their mathematical system seems to be base-8. They only have seven symbols for numbers, plus the dot. Do you know how a base-8 system works?

  —Enlighten me?

  —It’s very easy to understand, just very hard to use—for us, that is. We have a base-10 system—ten symbols for numbers, if you count the zero. Basically, when we count, we go up to nine—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9—and then we run out of symbols. So we add a digit, and we get 10, which means one set of 10, plus nothing. Then we go through our nine symbols again: 11, 12, 13, etc. And we run out at 19, so we add one to the second position and we get 20, which is two sets of ten, and so on.

  Their system works the same way, but with fewer symbols. They count through seven, then add a digit, and they end up with 1 plus the dot, which you can think of as zero, or as a placeholder if you prefer to see it that way. That means one set of 8, plus nothing. Then they go on with their seven digits: one-one, one-two, one-three, etc. Remember, one-two doesn’t mean twelve, it means eight plus two. It gets much more confusing for us when we add more digits. Something like 2222 means two, plus two times eight, plus two times 64, plus two times 512, so 1170 in total.

  Now, just to make this more fun, remember how the formulas read from right to left? Well, so do the numbers.

  Dr. Franklin tells me the console doesn’t work yet, so we can’t know what it’s used for. Whatever it is, since all the digits are on it, you can bet Ryan will have to punch in numbers, and he’ll have to do it in base-8. I wouldn’t say it can’t be done, but it’s extremely hard to learn, you have to do pretty complex math in your head just to read the numbers. At least, writing direction shouldn’t matter when you punch in numbers on a keyboard. Still, 12345 their way is 5349 our way. 12345 our way is 30071 their way.

  Oh…no. I see the look on your face but I’m not that smart, I wrote it down before you came in. I can’t imagine having to do this on the fly.

  —That is not what I heard. They say you are brilliant, once-in-a-generation brilliant.

  —That’s not true, unfortunately.

  —Modesty does not become you, Mr. Couture.

  —I’ve been accused of many things, but modesty, not so much. I’m smart. I’m really smart. Drop me in a room with a hundred people, chances are I’m smarter than ninety-nine of them. But there’s always going to be that someone. I met a lot of people at the University of Chicago who could outthink me. I met some I couldn’t even understand, and not because of my English. It wasn’t because I lacked technical knowledge in their field or anything like that either, they were just…It’s like playing chess. Some people can only see what’s in front of them, others can see several moves ahead. I’m a couple moves short of the great ones.

  —Do you believe you are the smartest person here?

  —Maybe, maybe not. Rose can definitely think on her feet. Alyssa might have a few IQ points on both of us.

  —Who is Alyssa?

  —The geneticist. Rose brought her in to figure out why Kara’s the only one who can use the helmet. She’s not a people person, but she’s a math genius. She might have figured out the panels long before me if she’d been around. I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. Do I think I’m smarter than you? Is that what you’re asking?

  —Are you?

  —Without a doubt. It doesn’t mean I think you’re an idiot, but I’d be lying if I said no.

  —Fair enough. In my experience, people with superior intellect have a tendency to react poorly to failure. Did you ever think you might not succeed?

  —I suppose what you’re asking is whether or not I ever doubted myself. No, I did not. But, there was always a good chance we were never going to figure this out. I knew that. Rose knew that. Those who didn’t need to ready themselves for some serious disappointment.

  —What do you mean?

  —Well, long shot doesn’t even begin to describe this. I’m amazed we actually got this far. If we manage to get the leg controls working, and if the pilots can make her move without crashing, and if we can figure out how to use the console, we might be able to use her. That is, of course, if we find all the other pieces—it’s a big planet. There’s also a distinct possibility that she just won’t work even if we do get all the pieces. She might just be broken, you know. Then, well, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men…

  —…

  —Humpty Dumpty? I think that’s how it goes. I’m just saying, these things are buried in the dirt. The reason for that might be slightly less romantic than what we’re all hoping for…

  FILE NO. 092

  INTERVIEW WITH CW2 RYAN MITCHELL, UNITED STATES ARMY

  Location: Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington State

  —Nothing happened.

  —That is not what I heard.

  —What did you…? I don’t understand. How could you…?

  —Each of us has a specific function in this project, Mr. Mitchell. Dr. Franklin is in charge of all scientific aspects of this mission. You are a pilot. I know things.

  —I don’t know what y
ou want me to say.

  —I asked a very simple question. What happened?

  —We had one kiss…

  —Mr. Mitchell. It would make things easier for both of us, especially for you, if we could forgo the part of this conversation where you take me for a complete idiot…

  —OK, it was more than a kiss but it’s not like we defected to Russia or anything. I don’t think the Army has anything to worry about.

  —You keep forgetting. I am not the Army, nor am I concerned with their code of conduct. I have no interest in seeing either of you court-martialed. I will, however, grow tired of asking. Just tell me what happened.

  —Well, we’ve been at this for five months now, full-time, and alone. After a while, we either end up killing each other or we grow closer, there’s really no in between. We spend what? Twelve hours a day together in the sphere? Six or seven days a week. It seems pointless to go into details, but let’s just say it didn’t take long before I started thinking about her for the other twelve hours.

  But Kara’s Kara. So every time I tried to get closer to her, she’d back away and give me the cold shoulder for three days. I tried to give her some space, as much as I could while being in the same room. It’s really hard spending that kind of time with someone without the conversation eventually slipping into personal territory.

  After a while, I got tired of being called by my rank and last name every time I mentioned anything not work-related. You’d be surprised how many things will strike a chord with her. I still don’t know what happened to her, but apparently anything having to do with family, children, or relationships will make her mad. I mean, I really tried, but anyone who gets edgy when cats come up as a conversation topic has some serious emotional issues.

  A few weeks passed. I just kept my mouth shut and focused on getting the big girl walking. We tried a few things, but each time our computer model ended up flat on her face. It happened so often at first, we had to remind ourselves she would wreck a dozen houses if that happened for real. Turns out, even if I get the leg movements right, Kara still has to move the arms and torso in sync for her to keep her balance. Turning is even more complicated.

  I started calling every movement out loud—left knee up, leg forward, left foot down—so she could shift the weight at the right time. After about a month of that, she started anticipating my movements, reading my body, the way I would move my shoulders before lifting a leg, things like that. I got pretty good at reading her too. I spend my entire day looking at her, since I’m facing away from the console. You do this from sunrise to sunset every day, it starts to feel natural, like you actually need the other person for something as simple as walking. She noticed I even stopped moving my arms when I walk on my own. She says it gives me a Terminator kind of look…The liquid guy, not Arnold.

  —Does that mean you can make her walk?

  —No, not quite. Even with Kara helping with the balance, I’m still short one leg joint. I can’t seem to get the upper legs to move quite right. She has really short thighs between her hips and her actual knees. I don’t have that; my legs connect to the braces just below. I have to thrust my whole body upward at every step to get a natural movement out of her and it’s really hard to keep that going for more than a few steps.

  But we’re making progress. Perhaps that’s what got Kara to open up a little. Perhaps it’s because we started pulling even longer shifts. But one night she asked me out for a drink. It wasn’t the first time, but she always made sure Dr. Franklin or Vincent tagged along. We usually go to the Aviator’s lounge at B-Gate. Our exit inside the terminal is past security so it’s convenient and Dr. Franklin can smoke. She doesn’t, really, but she likes to light one up when she drinks. She mostly stares at it. Anyway, it closes at ten thirty so we drove to a real place that’s open late. It was a bit of a dive, but anything where normal people go feels pretty special these days.

  I don’t know if I was nervous, or just really tired, but I got drunk. Plowed. One bourbon, one bourbon, one beer. I don’t think they had Scotch anyway. I was on my second round when I started talking. She basically just listened to me spill my guts to her all night long. I was still mad at her, so I did it the mean way. You know: “I can’t stop thinking about you but you’re the coldest person I’ve ever met”—that kind of thing. She just sat there and listened. When I became a bit too incoherent, she dragged me to her car and drove me home without saying a word.

  I wanted to hide under a rock the next day. More than anything, I was waiting to see what kind of hell she’d put me through for this. She didn’t. We just went through our routine. She was quite cordial actually. Nothing the next day either, then the next. After a week had gone by, I assumed she had decided it was best to pretend it didn’t happen. I was still reasonably embarrassed and inclined to agree.

  A week later, she stopped me on the way out and asked if I still wanted to take her out to a real dinner. I tried to look like I thought about it before saying yes. I was going to pick her up on Sunday. I was at home getting ready when she called to cancel: “It’s not a good idea, we work together, blah blah blah.”

  I should have been mad but I thought it was mostly funny since she was the one who invited me. We went through this dance one more time until I finally had it. I just stopped by her house on our night off and told her to hurry up. She didn’t argue. I must have looked more confident than I was.

  She offered me coffee but I told her I’d wait in the car. I should have said yes to that coffee, because she made me wait out there for a good half hour. I was flipping through radio stations when I saw her walk out. Wow! is all I can say. I’m not sure I would have recognized her if it wasn’t her house. She wore a short skintight red dress, heels, the works. It made her legs look…

  —Longer?

  —Yes. I was looking for something more…Anyway, she had done something to her hair. I couldn’t tell what it was…something though. She even had makeup on. The whole thing was totally unlike her, but she just looked amazing. She obviously felt a bit out of character. She wasn’t nearly as bold as usual. She looked amazing and…vulnerable.

  —Did you like that?

  —That she felt vulnerable? I don’t know. Maybe.

  —There is no shame in admitting it.

  —I don’t get satisfaction out of making people feel smaller if that’s what you’re saying. I liked that I was having some sort of effect on her, you know. I wouldn’t want her to be like that all the time. She’s brash. That’s who she is. Still, it was special.

  I don’t know how to explain it to you. All I think about is spending time with her. Do you understand what I’m saying? I spend twelve hours a day alone in a small room with her, and I still want…I don’t know…More. It’s like wanting a cigarette so bad, then you smoke a whole pack and you’re still craving.

  —Did you start smoking?

  —No. It’s just a figure of speech. I couldn’t think of a better one. I wanna feel like I’m reaching her somehow, like she’s letting me in. That night I did, for a while. It felt good.

  —I understand. How did your evening go?

  —I took her to a Brazilian steakhouse. It was a little out of my price range, but it was worth the money just to walk in there with her holding my arm. We had a really nice meal. I don’t know if you like steak, but if you do, you should try that place sometime.

  —I do, and I might. Please continue.

  —This time I made sure I stayed sober. She didn’t. The lady likes red wine. About halfway through the second bottle, she started talking. How her mother never approved of the men she was with. How her mother was right every time. I’m not sure but she made a comment in passing that led me to believe she was married once.

  —She was not. I can tell you that much.

  —Maybe I misunderstood. Whatever happened, I could tell there was a lot of pain involved.

  I drove her to her house after dinner. I was about to get out of the car to get the door for her when she grabbed m
y arm. She undid her seat belt and jumped on my lap. Next thing I knew my seat was down and my shirt was coming off.

  —That sounds like more than a kiss to me.

  —Maybe. But the kiss is the only part where I felt she was really with me. I don’t think I mattered after that. It was cold, angry sex, you know. It felt like she was getting back at someone. This is gonna sound stupid, but I was jealous of whoever she was thinking of. He obviously meant more to her than I did at the time. Anyway, she was done pretty fast. Then she got out of the car without saying a word. That was it. That was a week ago, and we haven’t talked about it since.

  —Do you want to talk about it?

  —I’d like to know where we stand. If that was just the wine, I suppose I’ll handle it. But I think she could use someone who’d take care of her. I don’t think I’m the best man on Earth or anything like that, but I’d be good to her.

  —I do not wish to be presumptuous, but if I may offer a bit of advice: Ms. Resnik is in need of many things. In my humble opinion, “someone who’d take care of her” is not one of them.

  —I know. I know. Believe me I know. It’s a cat-and-mouse thing, or is it the chicken or the egg? She backs off because I come on too strong. I come on stronger because I feel her slipping away.

  —“Cat and mouse” implies a love of the chase. “The chicken or the egg” refers to a causality dilemma. You were attempting to refer to the situation as the latter.

  —That’s what I meant.

  —I know. Unfortunately, it is an inaccurate interpretation of the facts. The situation you describe does indeed reinforce itself through a feedback loop. However, the expression suggests that the initial cause cannot be determined. In this case, it can.

  —You mean me, right?

  —I do. Just let her come to you on her own terms.

  FILE NO. 093

  MISSION REPORT—OPERATION CLEAN SWEEP

  First Sergeant Dylan Rodriguez, U.S. Army, Transportation Specialist

  Mission was a success. No friendly casualties.