“Not before noon. We will need to prep you thoroughly. Best if you come in athletic dress. And I recommend skipping breakfast. Will you be able to last twelve hours without food?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t forget to wear a diaper. That will spare us both any embarrassing moments.”
“Will do. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Don’t expect to get everything right. You’ll be safe regardless. I will watch over you.”
“Thank you, Karl.”
“Unit A17?” she said quizzically to Mike when they were back in the corridor.
“That is my designation.”
“Doesn’t it bother you when I call you Mike?”
“Not at all, Heather. I like it.”
The programmers had put some real effort into designing the personality of the drone. Heather almost believed that it could like being called Mike.
April 30, 2074, Earth Orbit
Heather was sweating from exertion. She had been cycling for two hours now. A mask fed her oxygen. She was wearing the Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment, or LCVG, but she hadn’t noticed any cooling coming out of this high-tech, thermo-reactive underwear.
“How long to go?”
Karl Freitag was back. He had instructed her personally and started her working on the bike before leaving for his regular tasks. A medic was watching her parameters all the time.
“You’ll be done soon,” said Freitag. “I’m sorry, but it is necessary.”
“Yes, I know the issue from diving,” she replied.
“We also have more modern suits,” said Freitag, “that cling to the skin. Pre-breathing is much shorter with them.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
“No. For very long EVAs our experience is better with the old models. Plus they are better for beginners. They have more padding and are easier to control remotely.”
“In case I go berserk.”
“Which we do not expect, but we do need to be prepared for anything and everything. What we are doing in your case is against all the rules.”
“Because you are letting me out without training?”
“Mostly because we’re letting you go out alone.”
“We’ve been through that. As few interferences as possible.”
“I understand that,” said Freitag. “We will keep an eye on you at all times. Nothing can go wrong. But I am a bit nervous, regardless.”
Thank you for that, Karl Freitag, she thought. You just made me feel so much better.
“I am very sorry, Heather, I didn’t intend to bother you with this. It is my job to find and to discipline those who break rules, and now I am doing just that myself.”
“Tell me about your partner. What does he do?”
Now it was she who distracted the head of security and tried to calm him down. Wasn’t it meant to be the other way around? Curiously enough, her own fears seemed rather remote right now.
“He works in administration, a pretty boring job if you ask me, but it is his life. I offered to get him something up here twice already, but he won’t bite.”
“Perhaps he is afraid. I’ve heard of people who don’t love flying into space.”
“According to him it is not fear, he simply loves Earth so much more.”
“He could be right about that. The sea, mountains, all the green…”
“Speaking of green…” said Freitag. “You are green now, good to go. Okay, poor joke.”
Heather opened the restraining belts and kicked off from the cycle. Karl pointed to the right. She saw a pile of textile, metal, and glass there.
“Your suit,” said Karl.
“Interesting.”
“I’ll help you.”
Karl shut Heather’s helmet exactly 23 minutes later. A helper had already opened the airlock and she floated inside. She was completely calm. It reminded her of the moment many years ago when she knew she had gone into labor. She’d had no prior experience, then just like now, but it had been crystal clear that there was only one option. She had to go through it—and she would go through this unknown process, too. Helmet radio provided instructions that she followed to the letter. She attached the safety line, opened the outside hatch, pulled herself outside, and discovered the probe that was parked right next to the hatch. The probe looked minuscule and very vulnerable beside the huge Ark.
Karl Freitag had explained how she would connect to the probe. She would essentially be riding it. She just had to stay clear of the slim propulsion unit. It wasn’t particularly powerful, since its only job was to keep the probe in orbit. But the ejected mass that delivered the forward momentum was so hot that it would cut right through her spacesuit.
She took a deep breath, moved the safety line from beside the hatch to the probe, and climbed aboard.
“Starting the probe now,” said Karl. “Enjoy your flight!”
“Thanks and see you soon.”
The probe started moving. The propulsion jet was invisible. Heather had nothing to do now but to wait until she had put a few kilometers between the probe and the Ark. The probe moved perpendicular to the Ark orbit to avoid losing height. Changing orbit height would be a bad idea.
“Flight status is perfect,” announced Karl Freitag. “Well, almost.”
“Almost?”
“Don’t worry, we will correct the minor deviation later. I know how already.”
“Deviation? That doesn’t sound good.”
“Stay calm and trust me.”
Couldn’t he have kept it to himself if it wasn’t really an issue? The Ark is disappearing into the night and I am supposed to stay calm? She consulted the pad on her arm. The probe was losing height but it only amounted to a centimeter every so often. It sounded as though Karl was right. Heather looked up from the pad. Earth was below and it was huge. They currently were over the dayside and crossing a huge ocean. Was it the Pacific? She would be visible to one of the telescopes on Hawaii. That would be one funny view—a human in a spacesuit doing the solitary ‘ride into the sunset’ on a probe through space.
“Heather?”
It was the voice of the head of security. Heather opened her eyes. I’ve fallen asleep out here. Unbelievable!
“Why did you not wake me up?”
“Sleeping is what we like most. You use fewer resources.”
“And I can’t make any mistakes.”
“And there’s that.”
“Are we there yet?” she asked with a playful whine in her voice.
“Yes, kid,” said Karl, playing along, “almost. Another five minutes. You play with your probe in the meantime. That’s serious, by the way. You can get started with your preparations now.”
Heather opened up the diagnostic kit that a technician had attached to the probe. It contained a computer with the analysis software. Once she ran the cable from it to the probe, the data would be dumped into the computer automatically, starting the analysis right away. Three minutes later they would know whether it was lines or artefacts.
“Ready,” said Heather.
“Go ahead,” replied Karl.
She pointed the telescope into the sun. Several layers of glass covered the viewing screen, making it less readable than the device inside the Ark. That made the sun much less impressive. But the real work ran in the background anyway. Heather forced herself not to watch the clock.
“Results available,” reported the system. “Would you like a full analysis?”
“Answer just one question: Are there any artefacts in the recordings?”
“I did not find any artefacts.”
“Did you hear that?” Heather nearly shouted into the microphone.
“Yes,” responded the head of security.
“Do you know what that means?”
“Do you?”
Excellent question. She had to admit, she did not know. It could mean anything.
“I would like to fetch you back now,” said Karl.
�
��Glad to hear that.”
Earth started turning. Of course it was the probe—and her—making a U-turn.
“There is just a minor issue.”
“You mentioned that before, Karl.”
“I need you to solve the problem.”
“Not sure I understand you?”
“The probe was slightly imbalanced by the payload, that is, by you. That let it drift down a tiny bit. The jet won’t suffice to bring you back up.”
“You call that a minor issue?”
“Yes, because we just need to help the probe a little bit.”
“You want me to push?”
“That won’t work in space.”
“I know, Karl, it was a figure of speech.”
“I see. No, I want you to open the valve of your oxygen bottle a bit. The gas jet will give you the push you need. Well, if you sit in the right place.”
“And I won’t be needing the oxygen used for this?”
“We have given you triple the amount needed for the trip. One never knows in space.”
“Very prescient of you.”
“Standard operating procedure. It’s the rules.”
“Just as good. So tell me what I need to do and how I need to sit.”
“Of course, Heather. Let’s get started.”
The flight back was uncomfortable. Karl Freitag kept telling her to change positions, a little bit this way or a little back that way. She felt like a model posing for a demanding painter. The moment she relaxed the push from her oxygen bottle on the probe would change. There was no sound due to the vacuum and nothing to be seen. And no sleep, either. The pad told her that Karl’s strategy was working out fine, she would get back safely to the Ark. She was almost afraid of arriving there. She knew that the real work would begin when she got back.
May 1, 2074, Paris
A little bird had told him a secret: Today his name, Alain Petit, would be mentioned at an international convention. Astronomers from around the world were meeting in Mexico City. Better still, the little bird, a certain Callis John at the JPL in California, had sent him a VR ticket to the convention. Fortunately the event took place in Central America so there was a time offset.
That had given him the chance to grab the necessary equipment at the nearest Fnac branch that morning. That had been his idea, anyway. But as he stood before the closed doors of the store he noticed his calendar showed the first of May. A public holiday called the Day of Work, ironically enough. So he had gone out to see his son, who never took part in the worker’s rallies. Alain was sure he would find him at home.
Alain was now wearing a headset that, as soon as he brought it down to cover his eyes, completely cut him off from his environment. His son had helped him install it in his home. Alain was sure he could have coped himself, but since his schedule was tight he had been glad for the help. Soon afterwards, his son left, and now Alain was waiting for the convention to start. The online program revealed a last minute update, pushing his discovery into the keynote that kicked off the convention. The speech was to be given by a certain Shashwat Agarwal, the director of DKIST, the solar observatory.
Alain was getting restless at his sitting room table. The convention was scheduled to start at 9 am Mexico City time, 4 pm Paris time. It had been less than three weeks ago that he had been sitting here, chatting with the local news editor, Arthur Eigenbrod. He would never forget that name. He had been no more than a nerd with a crazy idea, but Eigenbrod had taken him seriously. Was Arthur following up on the story?
Ten minutes to go. He took a final sip of coffee. The beverage was bitter, the way he preferred it. Then he stood up and carried the cup to the sink. The VR glasses were too tight already, but maybe that was due to him wearing them on his forehead. Today he wouldn’t have time to count sunspots, and his unrelenting competitor would overtake him again. Would his ‘opponent’ know that he was up against Alain Petit, the discoverer of the sun lines? Old man, you are getting a little full of yourself, he thought to himself. But it was sad that his wife could not share the moment. She had always supported his hobbies.
The computer signaled a new message. Alain checked his inbox. It was the entry link for the VR participants. He had to click the link. That would launch the special app that would connect him to the event location in Mexico City.
“Please put on your glasses now,” requested the app.
He followed the instructions, but pushed the glasses back up immediately. He first needed to seat himself in the chair. The glasses made everything around him disappear completely, and he was afraid of hurting himself. Once seated, he lowered the VR glasses into position. It was impressive. He had moved from his dreamy Parisian apartment to a brim-full convention hall in the blink of an eye. He seemed to be sitting in the walkway between two rows of chairs. The impression was so realistic that he wanted to get up to let the people arriving from behind pass him more easily.
It appeared that the hall doors had opened just a short while ago, and people were milling about to find seats. A mutter of voices filled the hall. Most attendees seemed to be scientists. At least they wore suits and carried briefcases. But there also were journalists in more functional clothes busily unloading their gear from backpacks. Alain’s location gave him an excellent view of the stage, as though he was three meters tall. He was able to turn around any way he wanted but he could not leave his position.
A bell rang. The muttering subsided immediately. Those who were still standing looked around quickly for vacant seats. Not everyone was lucky. Some had to sit on the steps of the stairways that led from each of the five entrances down to the stage.
Then a second bell. A man in a dark suit entered the stage. Some people clapped their hands, but the man on the stage just deposited something onto the speaker’s desk and left again.
They waited. Finally, a third bell sounded. The hall went quiet. Alain looked around. There were at least a thousand people seated, and another hundred journalists. A lady in a business suit came on stage. She was unexpectedly young, looking almost like a student. General applause came up. Then Alain realized he recognized the woman. He had seen her picture on the news two years ago. She had discovered the black hole that was then threatening the solar system.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Maribel Pedreira. It is an honor to open your, no, our convention.”
The applause grew louder. The woman waited until it ebbed off.
“Thank you for your kind welcome. I do not want to bore you with a look into the past. Especially since we have so many topics that concern the future of all of mankind. The greatest potential for this, in my opinion, comes from a somewhat fortuitous discovery by an amateur researcher from France. If I am informed correctly, Monsieur Alain Petit is attending today in VR mode. Please give him a strong round of applause.”
People around him clapped their hands enthusiastically. This is for me! Alain was getting hot. Good thing he had decide to sit down earlier.
“The discovery and its implications will be detailed by Professor Shashwat Agarwal in his keynote. He leads the efforts at the solar telescope that we all know as DKIST. Please welcome the professor!”
A new round of applause came up. A lean man in a blue suit entered the stage from the side. He held a few papers his left hand and came to stand beside Pedreira. She shook hands with him.
“Shashwat, if we may ask you, please explain to the global astronomical community what surprises our mother star holds in store for us.”
The woman nodded toward the audience. She looks like she would be glad to be able to leave the stage at this point, thought Alain. He probably would have felt no different. Shashwat Agarwal on the other hand looked very confident. It was obviously not his first keynote address.
“Many important discoveries,” he began, “started with a coincidence. Just remember the cosmic background radiation. Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson—110 years ago—were experimenting with a new and especially sensitive radio antenn
a designed to pick up weak radio echoes from balloon satellites of Project Echo. For this they had to eliminate the influence of every other source. They accomplished their goal, but were stuck with deep random noise that was a hundred times stronger than what their antenna should have generated. It came from everywhere in the sky and was constant throughout the day and the night. The two scientists were baffled until they hit a publication that linked radiation like they had discovered to the Big Bang. Eventually this discovery yielded a Nobel Prize for Penzias and Wilson. The story I will be telling today started in a similar fashion.”
Agarwal proceeded to give a chronological report of the events of the past few weeks. Alain felt his face turning red again when his name came up for the second time. Good thing that nobody is able to see me. He was riveted by the account of the events surrounding the duplicate of the solar probe, first on Earth and later in space. What incredible consequences had come from his dabbling with the magnification of the software loupe!
“So what did we find out there?” Agarwal paused for effect. Alain turned around. Some scientists sat there gaping. Journalists were fidgeting, eager to not miss the next words.
“To be honest… we don’t know. So I will stick to the facts. Whatever forms the lines first seen by Alain Petit must be less than ten kilometers in diameter, or else our instruments on Earth would be able to detect them. The lines are distributed across the entire sun. Their origin must be in the photosphere or just below. There is no known physical process that would cause such patterns. Therefore we conclude that it is some form of construction or building. Since we couldn’t have failed to notice someone building this, we believe it is older than mankind.”
Several arms shot up. The hall filled with noise. Everyone was in discussion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am available to take your questions. Kindly log in your request electronically and I will call on you.”
Silent Sun: Hard Science Fiction Page 8
