Ten Directions

by Samuel Winburn

  A cone shaped craft approached the factory base first, heat shields glowing. The cone settled into a circular cavity at the protected side of the factory. The precious cargo diffused into the magnetic field lining the freighters storage compartment before rockets gently nudged the ship back into space. When they had attained a comfortable distance from the factory a minute fraction of the tenuous gas held in the hold was released into the ion stream of the freighter’s exhaust.

  The cone disappeared in a blast of light. The brightly glowing Mercury and orbiting factory rapidly dropped from view.

  As August watched his demonstration an intense sense of fulfilment washed through him. His relief was immense. Even though this event had resulted from a chain reaction powered by the critical mass of a lifetime of aspiration, even though the work itself had been nothing but joy, the non-stop effort had taken its toll.

  Appearing in this neuroview to the assembled shareholders at this extraordinary general meeting was nothing less than the culmination of one of the greatest advances in technology in human history. That it had been accomplished in secrecy made the accomplishment even more amazing.

  Exhaustion steadied him. Exhaustion that had become habit. Exhaustion that was possible only because of the greatness of the mission. To achieve this, he had lied almost continuously. He had lied to everyone except Calvin30 who had arranged most of the lying on his behalf. Lied straight to their faces without hesitation. Lied because the Truth behind the lie would set them free.

  August had worked his charm, his hair waving with chaotic intensity to entrance each person he had personally talked to, swearing them to utmost secrecy with the authority of his unexpected appearance in the place of the usual intermediaries. Some were minor like the supplier from Gudansk not questioning why an impossible order of quantum capacitors was necessary for a telescope array retrofit. Some were illegal, taken care of at the edge of his deniable awareness by Calvin30. Some were far more serious.

  “August. We are getting some questions as to why the N201-10 fusion reactor budget has blown out. I mean really blown out. Whew.”

  Helen Rodriguez, who had become his most trusted contact with the board following the assassination attempt, raised her eyebrows over their neuroview accusingly. She looked at him with Anya’s eyes.

  “I’m not sure why you are managing this project yourself August. Surely.”

  “What are you trying to say Helen?”

  “I’m, well, August - what the hell is going on?”

  “It’s Gudanko’s pet. I’m taking it on as a special favor.”

  “Hmmm. Are you trying to bomb it? I’m not sure.”

  August cut her off. “I don’t like what you are suggesting. No, this is sensitive. Politically sensitive, so I need to run with it. A peace offering if you will.”

  Helen frowned. “Oh. I see. But if a takeover is in the offing surely we can’t transfer assets before the deal.”

  “There is no takeover in the offering!”

  Raising his voice was unnecessary, but the very thought of Mirtopik being swallowed up by Energyia Nova was too obscene for August to contemplate.

  “August, you need to explain this to the Board.”

  “Okay. But hold off until the next meeting. The research has gone better than expected. We are moving beyond R&D and are creating a pilot production facility on the Moon.” It was especially painful this lie, to lie in such an extraordinary way to the person who had saved his life.

  “August, that is extreme. You will certainly lose your position over this. Gudanko.”

  “Gudanko is in on the deal. Our He-3 facilities. His engine technology. The fast-tracked expansion up in Mare Frigoris. All the extra lunar shifts for engineers and construction details. Doesn’t all of this fit together for you?”

  Helen was rubbing her temples, her eyes distracted by the balance sheets hanging in her neuroview. “Not really. But, I guess.”

  “Helen. Mirtopik isn’t a company driven by bean counters. If we don’t do this deal the whole thing is finished. Do you understand? And, and this is critically important. Gudanko is not to know that you know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Do I need to spell it out for you? This is between him and I.”

  “But.”

  “Just until the next Board meeting. Helen, please.”

  This lie had truly exhausted him. He flattened his hair out in an act of shame. He was ready to admit defeat.

  Helen frowned. “Okay August. We’ll do it your way. Against my better judgement.”

  “Thank you, Helen. Thank you from my heart.”

  Illya towered behind him, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “What do you care for August? Who do you love?”

  Of course, now she knew that he had lied to her and this would be forever between them. Everyone would now know that he had lied, that trust had been broken, and trust was the main asset of leadership. August knew that. But he also knew that there had been no other way. If he had simply brought the information from the broadcast out onto the table it would have been questioned as a forgery, a desperate bid for him to cling onto power. The politics would have killed him long before the miracle that would occur today could come into being. He would not have lived to see it, to enjoy his place in history.

  August held onto the memories of last month, as he stood in a spacesuit among the isolated crew in Mare Frigoris who had been his family for this whole journey, watching their great creation launch into the heavens. Buoyed by the fact that their project was so important that August Bridges himself had been with them, sharing meals, swapping stories with them, they had pushed themselves beyond his expectations. And he had lied to them, telling them only partial truths so that it was only when the wormhole had opened, and he had taken one giant leap for mankind into it as a demonstration, only then did he share with them the magnitude of their accomplishment.

  Most of them had no idea what they were working on, but were proud of their efforts, of their service to something great. He was doing this for them. To let them share in his immortality. To everyone who had brought this moment to fruition. This was their moment.

  The shareholders who were now materialising into their virtual seats had not come to be amazed and astounded. They had come to query the staggering expenditures from general accounts in the past few quarters. They were furious at his subterfuge. They had come to evict him.

  The neuroview of the unfolding technological miracle only he recognised faded leaving August standing alone and exposed before the assembled wrath of Mirtopik and the world. He bowed triumphantly. "And that, honored colleagues, is the future of spaceflight."

  Gudanko’s posture tightened. He had flown to the Moon especially for the event, bringing with him his new management team. August knew they had come as a signal to the investors that the change of management would be swift and with as minimum of disruption as was possible. August also knew that Gudanko, even though he was eager to at last lay claim to Mirtopik, was furious at having to inherit a poisoned chalice.

  "Anti-matter? This is what you have been spending on August? This is old technology, and not sustainable. It is too expensive. Those factories are old and require replacement - from this mneme they haven’t been upgraded? August, can you just explain yourself more clearly? Otherwise we must conclude either phenomenal incompetence or mental instability."

  The shareholders nodded. August knew they agreed with Gudanko, there was no other rational way to look at it. Some were possibly reluctant to give up on August Bridges and the dream that would go with him. Still Gudanko brought money and sanity to the table. Despite their disappointment in the failure of the Dream, August could see in their faces that they were prepared to cut their losses. There were other faces in the gallery, other eyes watching him, phantoms from his memory and promises made.

  Illya and Anya and Gregori and so many others. Their suffering should now have meaning, but still the tears in their eyes were for him. Why?
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  A quick glance to the mood of the assembly reassured August that he still had time to get his message out. Since this was the end of an era, the shareholders were willing to allow him his finale. Gudanko would get his answer soon enough.

  August took a deep breath.

  Now was the moment of truth. All this while he had persisted while half not believing his own propaganda. The whole thing had become for August a noble scam he was playing on humanity. Keeping the Dream alive after the spectacular crash of the Second Wave. Preserving the fiction that kept the Peace. Keeping the faith. Justifying his past mistakes that had cost so many of his friends so dearly as he used them up to pursue a self-referential fantasy. Through it all, August had sold the idea to himself better that he had to his financiers.

  Now the impossible had happened and his own good luck was harder to believe than all the lies. It was an opportunity handed to him by the gods. Now it was all finally going to happen. The gods were poised to reward their loyal servant.

  "My observant colleague, you are right. On all counts. What I was talking about is the future of spaceflight. Anti-matter propulsion gave us the ability to bring humans to the edge of our solar system, but it cannot take us beyond, and it is too expensive for run-of-the-mill missions. Even if it were less expensive we could only manage to move a few people any great distance, and it is people who give value to property, and currently people are limited by the constraints of one small planet. Thus, our current unfortunate situation. Now, my good friends, I give you the future of Space."

  The neuroview presentation returned to the freighter as it flew away from a shrinking sun. It rotated and, with another flash of light, slowed dramatically. In the approaching distance a strange planar structure appeared, smooth and mirrored, flashing in the sun. Cutting through the centre of the wafer was a round hole, which, as the freighter approached, appeared to contain a gray, dark disc dangling in the middle. Features on the disc, vague blotches at first, began to resolve into familiar patterns until the discs identity became easily recognisable. “It's the dark side of the moon.” a voice in the audience thought aloud, the time-lagged observation restating the obvious.

  The neuroview switched to a side on profile of the strange disk to provide the dramatic view of the freighter entering from one side inexplicably failing to emerge on the other.

  The lights came on. August’s enigmatic smile broke. He could scarcely contain his excitement.

  "So, what do you think?"

  The request brokered only expressions of bewilderment. August looked at his watch, which he’d arranged as a prop.

  "Time’s up, the package has arrived. Amanda, would you be so kind as to bring up lunar orbital camera #15 please."

  The neuroview now showed the freighter from the neuroview orbiting the moon, the familiar tubes of Luna City just visible on the horizon.

  Questioning eyes turned back to August’s Cheshire Cat grin, waiting for an explanation.

  "That neuroview was taken in real time."

  Gudanko scratched his head. He smiled awkwardly, as if embarrassed for August. "With respect, I think it more likely to have sprouted wings and flew up here, out of the atmosphere, and off the Earth. A very interesting simulation, yes, but you unfortunately have missed a small factor in this little special effects show. What about the speed of light? By my back-of -envelope calculation I would guess that the signals from Mercury would be still on way here, maybe only just now would they reach us. Even if the ship is faster than light, we would still have to wait to know about it. This,” Gudanko held his hands out to emphasize, "this is silly."

  It was silly. August found himself giggling. The strain and stress, the doubt and uncertainty, the fear - they were all over. The others surely thought that he had finally snapped - that the long years of dreaming had finally collapsed into madness. August didn’t care. This moment was for himself alone. The damn thing had worked. Even if they carted him off to the funny house what did it matter. He had done this! Gudanko’s face flushed, uncertain how to handle the situation. And was he afraid, perhaps, that these histrionics would reflect unfavourably on the Com, on its share price, or on himself.

  "Mr. Bridges?”

  Gudanko’s voice dripped with feigned compassion.

  “Please, I do not mean to upset you.”

  Because you are clearly nuts.

  “It’s just that, well, we on the Board feel you have in the past done invaluable service to Mirtopik. Now, unfortunately the truth is your little simulation tells us nothing. Perhaps is time that you stepped down."

  August smiled at Gudanko through his tears, at the bright light glorifying even the formerly unpleasant frame of his enemy. There was no room in his mind for malice, only wonder. August pulled himself together lest his silence be taken as surrender.

  He grinned mischievously, his eyes twitching with excitement. "No, no my friend, you have it all wrong. The light from the freighter travelled no such distance; it came from only 10,000 kilometres away."

  "So, the Mercury scene was a simulation?" Gudanko rolled his eyes and frowned patronisingly.

  "No."

  Gudanko began wriggle in his seat. "Then what are you trying to say? If it is not a simulation, then the light is just getting here. If it is a simulation than we are wasting our time with games. We've seen enough." Gudanko rose to his feet.

  "I think you might want to sit down for this Vlad."

  "Do not tell me what to do." Gudanko's face turned suddenly to a violent purple from the pressure of containing his emotions. He walked towards August with deliberate menace. "I speak for the Board. We're tired, tired, and sick and tired of these pointless tricks of yours August. I call for a vote of no-confidence."

  "But Vlad, my friend, you may want to sit down."

  August felt a minor anxiety, unsure whether a physical attack might be imminent. It seemed almost impossible that the cool of the Ukrainian might finally have broken.

  But as soon as he reached August, Gudanko stopped. He turned to reconcile his impatience against the possible disapproval of the audience. Gudanko, now at the front next to August, faced the board and held up his hands. "We've seen enough. We should vote to end this now."

  For some reason, August had to stop himself from nodding agreement.

  Gudanko faced August.

  "You have brought Mirtopik Com to its lowest point. It will be hard and painstaking work to rebuild, but under new management we will."

  August folded his arms, enjoying the show.

  "The management team from Energia Nova can bring balance and fiscal responsibility back. For too long we have engaged in fantasy and it is time to take our medicine."

  August, with exaggerated timidity, raised his hand from behind Gudanko.

  "Whoa. Whoa. Excuse me folks. FOLKS. You know what?" August clapped his hands loudly and clasped them together as he shook them. " You know what. We did it. We actually..."

  He started to laugh again.

  "The message, the message came through."

  "What?" Gudanko growled, barely constraining himself, as if he might snap from the effort of suppressing his fury.

  "The message from ET finally came through."

  August pushed past Gudanko’s trembling frame to face his audience.

  "What you just saw was a prototype. It's an artificial wormhole."

  "A what?" Gudanko stepped around August’s flank, as if to edge him out of view.

  "A wormhole. A hole is connecting two places in space-time,” August said without yielding, "The light from the camera and the freighter both went through a worm..."

  August tripped forward from Gudanko’s sudden push, hitting his head on the lectern. ComSec officers jumped forward to intervene between himself and the momentarily unhinged Gudanko. The room was silent as the interplanetary time lag passed, and the audience struggled to digest August’s pronouncement.

  August climbed back to his feet, straightened his kurta, and waited for the attention of th
e audience to zero back in on him.

  "Ah, sorry folks, I deserved that."

  August waited while Gudanko shrugged past the ComSec officers, stony faced.

  "Sorry folks. This is my fault. My desire for a dramatic effect has elicited a rather unanticipated response. The matter that I bring before the body today is of such propitious dimensions, such great and unprecedented historical import, that I myself was unwilling to stand before you until I could satisfactorily demonstrate its reality.”

  “Some months ago, Mirtopik came into possession of a transmission. Well the only way I can say it is that it was the transmission that we were all waiting for."

  August paused, savoring the stunned silence.

  "You must forgive my delay in informing you, but, given the charged political environment,” he turned his head in Gudanko's direction, "I felt it better to use some general discretionary funds to provide a credible pilot demonstration first. Helen, our CFO, will give you a full accounting at the close of the meeting. I apologise again for the breach of protocol."

  "Now, what we have created here is a working prototype of a wormhole. It is a door through an inter-dimensional string of time-space opened by a collapsed negative energy vacuum state. We construct two gates, an in and an out, very close together and use inverted quantum fluxes fed from the matter/anti-matter interactions to create a localised occlusion in space-time. As you can see I am reading from notes written by someone more intelligent than myself."

  Only August laughed at his attempt at levity. He forgave his audience for missing their cue - he remembered how he had been stunned for weeks, unable to believe what the transmission contained. It had taken weeks to formulate any strategy and begin translating the alien specifications. Based on this experience he could empathise with the astonishment they were feeling.