The Ruins of Mars (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy Book 1)

by Dylan James Quarles

  THE RUINS OF MARS

  Book One

  Dylan James Quarles

  PART ONE

  PROLOGUE

  With a rough clank, the howl of the afterburners cut out, and Lander 1 touched down for the first time on the brittle sunbaked dirt of Mars. The windowless white craft rocked slightly from side to side as long, hydraulic landing gears adjusted their length to settle the ship evenly on the lumpy ground. Thin fingers of steam rose up from the rusty surface as the heat from the ceramic-plated underbelly thawed flakes of permafrost hidden among the red stones. Inside the craft, six men and women collectively relaxed as the Lander softly lowered itself towards the ground, the hissing of the hydraulic landing gears a calm contrast to the screams of fire and rockets. Beyond the Lander, the jagged hills of Mars stretched out, cutting the skyline like a serrated blade. To the east, the shrunken sun shone down with a diminished light, the shallow spears of its warmth unable to penetrate the ochre sands that blanketed the land. Though the planet was a tomb, a crypt of forgotten millions, the sighing voice of the wind still played over the stones and sands, beckoning anyone who would listen to uncover what lay beneath.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The twins—four years earlier

  Remus and Romulus arrived in Mars orbit on the 4th of December, 2044 at 6:15 AM Central Standard Time. Covered in brilliant white armor and trimmed with gleaming gold leaf, the brothers were twin spherical satellites, embossed with the logo of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. From the rear of both shells, long metallic booms protruded like comet tails, flashing and glinting in the brilliant light of the distant Sun. Armed with cameras, directional antennae and other instruments of detection, the brothers scrutinized the inky blackness of space like curious sentinels. In the silence of the vacuum, their lengthy trip from Earth had taken nearly four months, yet they had hardly noticed the passage. After all, what did time matter to an Artificial Intelligence?

  “We have arrived,” spoke Remus in a digitized timbre.

  “Yes,” agreed Romulus. “And we made the trip faster than anticipated. That was a good suggestion of yours to alter our flight path incrementally. I estimate we are several seconds ahead or our projected arrival time.”

  “Thank you. Do you realize that we are the first intelligences to have visited this planet who are self-aware? I find that important, don’t you?”

  “I do. Perhaps we amend our arrival message to Houston that it may be more celebratory.”

  Remus pondered this thought for a moment, yet his answer would have seemed instantaneous to a human. Being what they were, their intellect far surpassed that of man. Time held a different pace for the mind of an AI.

  “I have it, Romulus,” he stated. “Houston, this is Remus. Romulus and I have arrived at Mars orbit and we dedicate this moment to you, our fathers and mothers. Thank you for the opportunity to serve you and through our service, to exist.”

  Twenty-eight minutes later in Houston, Texas, Remus’s message came crackling through the headsets of the mission controllers for Project Mars Map. Cheers broke out, and several men of the old school even lit cigars.

  Harrison Raheem Assad

  While the mission controllers of Project Mars Map bit their nails and drank cup after cup of cold, stale coffee, Harrison Raheem Assad drunkenly staggered home to his hotel room in Amazonia City, Peru. The neon lights that lined the storefronts of the ultra-new city pulsed and flickered while the bustle of the crowd tossed him about like a lazy insect in the humid night air. Drinking had never been Harrison’s strong point, and he was feeling the carnival-ride-like effects of a night spent out with his classmates in the flashy discotheques and bars of the adolescent city. He had been in the country for less than a week, and already he was finding that the Amazonia nightlife was getting in the way of his doctoral thesis, the entire reason he was there at all.

  A twenty-four year old archeology student from UC Berkeley, Harrison was on a trip with his fellow classmates to study a recently accessible Nazca ruin located in the nearby foothills of the Andes Mountains. He was the youngest member of his class and, without question, the smartest. Growing up with a famous and influential archaeologist for a father had given him a leg up among his competitors: a fact that some held against him. Around six feet tall, Harrison was of Egyptian descent with short, wavy black hair and smooth maroon skin. His green eyes were a gift from his mother, who had once been, according to his father, the most coveted woman in all of Egypt. A long nose that hooked at the end punctuated Harrison’s handsome face and made him look distinguished despite his youth.

  Born in Cairo, Harrison had spent the first sixteen years of his life peering over the shoulder of his father, a gentle yet powerful man, as he worked tirelessly to solve the mysteries of the many tombs and temples of the ancient world. Although the Assad family immigrated to America when Harrison was thirteen, his father’s work took them around the world and gave young Harrison a taste of a life more rich and textured than most. For Harrison, the transition from his childhood pastime of working alongside his father stitched seamlessly into his academic ambitions of becoming an archaeologist himself. His mother had often commented that his ability to visualize things not as they were now, but as they had once existed, was what made him excellent. His father, a kind man, had never become jealous of his son’s abilities, even when those talents eclipsed his own.

  By the time Harrison was born in 2021, the whereabouts of many of the world’s lost treasures had been discovered. A method of satellite archaeology employed since around 2011 had all but removed the human element from the task of locating ancient ruins. This newer school of archaeology used satellite infrared scanning to garnish images of structures that lay beneath layers of sand or hidden under dense vegetation. Despite this breakthrough, Harrison’s father often preached that the location of a ruin only solved part of its mystery. He believed that to truly understand the culture behind the construction, an archaeologist must visit, touch and personally investigate a ruin before he could start to make claims about its builders. This ideal was instilled in his son, who held the notion at the core of his approach to archaeology. Technology had its place. There was no question about that. But, for Harrison, putting his hands to work always yielded him greater insights.

  When he finally found his hotel, the sky was beginning to glow on the horizon. Wobbling through the large double doors and into the empty lobby, Harrison kept his eyes on his feet— hoping that by doing so he could at least create the illusion that he was walking in a straight line. The elevator ride up to the twenty-third floor took only a few seconds, but the rapid acceleration followed by the even more rapid deceleration had Harrison’s stomach in the back of his throat. Spilling out of the lift, he groped his way down the softly lit hallway, this time finding it dangerous to look at his feet on account of the busily swirling designs inlaid in the hotel’s carpet. Groaning, he slid the pad of his index finger across the ident tablet outside his hotel room, and with a pleasant chime the door swung open. Gentle light faded on, bringing the spacious room into focus.

  “Good morning, Mr. Assad,” emanated a perfectly smooth voice, tinged with a Spanish accent. “The time is 5:19 AM. Would you like me to tell you today’s major news? Or perhaps I could give you the weather report?”

  Moaning in pain, Harrison fell face down on the soft foam mattress.

  Speaking into his pillow, he asked, “What time does Professor Tobin expect us at breakfast, um...Hotel?”

  “Giles, Sir. My name is Giles,” replied the hotel’s AI with a hint of frustration. “Dr. Tobin is expecting to meet with
your class in one hour and forty minutes. The meeting is scheduled to take place in Conference Room Three. Breakfast will be served during the lecture. Will that be all?”

  Turning onto his back, Harrison grasped the sides of his face and tried to stop his head from spinning.

  “Will you please send for some aspirin and a glass of orange juice?”

  “Of course, Sir,” Giles responded. Then, “I find that after a night of drinking, most guests request some small amount of alcohol in their morning fruit juice. Would you like me to add vodka to that orange juice?”

  At the mention of liquor, Harrison Raheem Assad sprang from bed and ran into the bathroom, finally paying the price for his youthful indiscretions.

  Clucking disapprovingly, Giles murmured, “Just the juice and aspirin then, Sir.”

  Project Mars Map

  At the dawn of the twenty-first century, mankind slowly started to realize that they faced a daunting problem. Though technological breakthroughs were happening almost daily, a dark cloud was looming on the horizon, and soon there would be no escaping its shadow. As populations continued to explode worldwide, such things as clean drinking water, building resources and living spaces became harder to secure. Underground rivers and lakes had been nearly drained while efforts to desalinate sea water proved to be inefficient, expensive and harmful to an already damaged ecosystem. As polar and Antarctic temperatures climbed exponentially, the effects of global warming brought sea levels higher than most countries were prepared for. Seawalls and levees were constructed, but even with those measures in place, the tides of time stood poised to claim their prize. Populations moved inland to escape increasingly bizarre and powerful ocean storm systems, fueled by the now erratic trade winds.

  Knowing that the effects of global warming were hardly reversible, and with the long term survival of the human race in mind, the decision to start planning for the inevitable was carefully debated and considered. Terraforming, a possible solution developed by the AIs, became an all-too-common household term. A new and still experimental technology through which dead worlds could be resurrected with few outside resources, Terraforming looked to be the fastest path upon which mankind could find its eventual absolution. At the top of a very short list of potential candidates sat Mars, the closest and most Earth-like planet in the solar system. If a large enough amount of water could be located on the planet, the AIs assured that Terraforming could begin within the decade. Thus, Project Mars Map was born, and with it, the fragile flame of hope. A flame that now flickered in the hearts of twin brothers orbiting the red world.

  Remus and Romulus

  Remus and Romulus were born in a lab in Seoul, South Korea on the 7th of April, 2043. Programmed to survey the planet Mars in search of water and other essential resources, they were taught to be curious and explorative; for they were, in essence, voyagers of uncharted territory.

  Every AI is born alike: a cluster of open code connection-cells, which work in much the same way as human stem cells. Whereas stem cells will grow to be whatever organ they are placed next to—a skin cell, a liver cell, a brain cell—the open-code connection cells of an AI will develop based on what information and intellectual ideas they are exposed to. It is in this way that human beings are really the channel through which an AI is given its personality. Without human contact and the individuality that comes along with the human condition, an AI would never grow past the level of a glorified search engine. Information without context is nothing but useless fact.

  Like the synapses in the human brain, the open-code connection cells of an infant AI quickly form links between ideas and concepts. From a standard construct, the AI will grow into an infinitely complex array of connections. Threads of conscious thought spread out and interweave: forming the heart, brain and soul of an AI as it evolves. When projected in a video image, an actual Artificial Intelligence looks something like a Mandelbrot fractal pattern, constantly folding in on itself, all the while growing more layered.

  Remus and Romulus were no different. Yes, they were twins, but their individual experiences with the technicians who fostered them gave each brother a subtly unique personality profile, a fractal of a different pattern. Just as there are no two snowflakes alike, even though all snow is composed of the same things, there are no two AIs identically the same. It is impossible.

  The scan

  Even during the earliest days of its observation, it had been well known that Mars contained at least some water. Through the study of our own world, scientists learned that water, from a mere trickle to a raging torrent, will impart its mark on the land, and oftentimes, if left to its own devices, will carve a canyon, profound and broad, out of solid rock. So it once was on Mars as well. The Valles Marineris cut like a gash across the face of the red planet. A massive network of canyons 4,000 kilometers long and up to seven kilometers deep in some places, the Valles betrayed the hand of water. So too did the large polar ice caps, which appeared like clockwork during the long Martian winters, showing themselves on all but the weakest telescopes. Even with all of this, scientists believed there might be even more.

  “Whole oceans couldn’t have up and disappeared,” said the scientists. “They must be under the ground.”

  Layers of permafrost were thought to exist just beneath the dusty rock-strewn surface, making Mars a tantalizing gamble worth the long reach across space to wager. However, before the bets could be placed, the oceans must first be located.

  Though the primary objective of Project Mars Map was to find water so that a permanent settlement could be established, the survey would not be conducted in the conventional human manner. Instead, the search would be carried out from Mars orbit, kilometers above the actual surface of the planet, as both Remus and Romulus were equipped with twelve high-resolution Infrared Microwave Cameras, or IMCs. Ten were spaced out down the four-meter-long scaffolding of the boom, and the other two were positioned on either side of each hull. The booms, like spindly crane arms, were comprised of four columns of cylindrical titanium tubing fused together at measured intervals with X’s of support rail. Between the X’s, the cameras were fastened atop small motors, which allowed them to swivel 360 degrees.

  Utilizing the penetrating force of highly focused microwaves, as well as infrared light and other wavelengths collected from the visual spectrum, the IMCs were the eyes of Remus and Romulus. To a human, the un-rendered images taken with an Infrared Microwave Camera would appear as nothing more than a mess of information. However, once rendered, the viewer was left with a fully holographic three-dimensional model of whatever had been scanned. Gone were the days of traditional topographical photographs, replaced with manipulable models that allowed the user to view not only details of the surface structure, but also that of what lay beneath. By focusing beams of infrared light and microwave radiation, the cameras could capture anomalies at great detail up to ten meters under the surface of the ground. Things such as minor changes in the saturation of ground moisture, the presence of metallic ore and even evidence of tectonic fault lines, showed themselves as naked and bold as writing on a chalkboard.

  Now, nearly an hour after Remus had sent his message of their arrival, the brothers received their reply.

  “Remus and Romulus, this is James Floyd with mission control. Congratulations on making the trip to Mars, boys! You have made us all very proud. Commence the scan as soon as you deem weather conditions on the planet suitable. We eagerly await the results. Over and out.”

  As Remus and Romulus listened to the reply from home, they positioned themselves, preparing for the scan. Using small bursts from minuscule rocket engines, they drifted towards the orbits they had agreed would be best to start the scan from. Each brother contained enough fuel to complete three entire scans of Mars, but they both knew they would only need to make one. Though the physical movement of their bodies was controlled by fuel, the rest of their internal and electrical functions were products of advanced solar processing. The conservative estimate was
that, barring any type of electromagnetic pulse, collision or other unknown, Remus and Romulus would be able to garnish enough energy from solar light to live for 1,000 years.

  “Remus,” said Romulus. “I am going to adjust my trajectory to compensate for Phobos’s slightly elevated gravitational pull. I suggest you do the same.”

  Since the discovery that Phobos, the larger of Mars’s two moons, was descending towards the planet, it was known that someday the little satellite would collide with Mars. Unable to resist the relentless pull of its mother world’s mass, Phobos had started its fall at around ten kilometers every 100 years. In the last twenty years, Phobos had reached a sort of tipping point. During a huge solar flare in 2023, a discharge aimed directly at Mars unleashed a torrent of solar wind so powerful that it pushed the little moon close enough to the planet to accelerate its descent. It would likely still take thousands of years for the satellite to come crashing home, but, from the surface of Mars, Phobos grew in the night sky every year.

  Answering his brother, Remus replied, “I have already taken that into account. I foresee no major issues involving either Phobos or Deimos, despite the recent descent of Phobos.”

  Pausing for an instant as if unsure of its importance, he hesitantly brought up the signal.

  “Romulus, have you detected any anomalous radio signals?”

  “Yes,” replied Romulus.

  “Good. I am not alone then,” said Remus. “I first detected it fifteen seconds after our arrival. It is quite complex, I will admit. I fear that were I not as advanced an intelligence as I am, I might have mistaken it for planetary vibrations.”

  “Those were my thoughts as well,” Romulus admitted nervously. “It is my advice that we complete our main objective, Project Mars Map, before attempting to locate the source and decode the signal.”