Silent Sun: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  June 3, 2074, Solar Orbit

  Today he had prepared his breakfast all by himself. He had pictured his mother’s wicker table. As a child, his eyes had taken in everything at the height of plates and cups. He had tried to grab the yellow juice that tasted so good, and he had held onto the embroidered tablecloth. Inexplicably, a white plate had launched itself at him, hit his toe on edge, and broken apart. He had wept, but instead of comforting him, his mother had scolded him until he ran off crying to his room. It was odd that he remembered the scene in such detail, but no longer could he recall the color of his mother’s eyes.

  The table had worked out splendidly. The flowery tablecloth matched his memories. For the meal he had set himself a special task. The egg, for example, which was standing in an eggcup beside his plate, was gleaming gold. The spoon for it was platinum. The coffee smelled of real coffee but it tasted like a Coke. It was about modifying things that he was creating with his mind. And all of it was part of his plan.

  Artem avoided thinking too intently about this plan. He was not sure how this odd world worked. Who or what was converting his thoughts to the pictures, noises, smells, and tastes that he was experiencing? Was that creator software? Or his own mind maybe? Were there any independent actors here at all? Or was it just a trick of his mind? There was no way to find out. But in the end it would not matter anyway, since it all felt very real for him, even if it was really fantasies. The real question was whether somebody other than himself, and maybe the system of the creators, had access to his thoughts, his innermost feelings. He wanted to ensure that the AI didn’t understand his plans until it was too late.

  The NASA ship continued to be without activity. He had checked out the net energy consumption. That gave him some hope as the ship consumed more energy than it was releasing. The difference worked out surprisingly close to what a crew of four would consume. Pure speculation, of course, since it could also be automatic processes that had continued running after the death of the crew.

  Artem had decided to focus on the positive interpretation of his data. The ship was not in immediate danger. It had three days before it would begin its final journey into the layers under the photosphere. He imagined how the crew would be spending their last three days. They had no hopes for any kind of rescue. And he couldn’t get in touch in any way without alerting Watson. But it felt good to have a plan. He would not just get rid of the AI, it would also be payback time for the RB Group.

  He played with Sobachka for some time after breakfast. Watching her helped him believe that he was not caught in his own mind. The dog often reacted as he expected, but she also managed to surprise him just as frequently. Surely it would be impossible to surprise himself with his own thoughts? Artem shook his head. Then he kicked the ball that he had conjured up, sending it toward Sobachka. The dog hit it with her right front paw and the ball came directly back to him.

  That was interesting because Artem had been running an experiment. The ball had to show unusual behavior. Artem had tried to conjure that up in his mind. The ball had been supposed to roll backward when pushed forward, obviously in conflict with the physical laws of momentum conservation. The result showed physical laws to override his mental conjuring when there was a conflict—only physically correct results made it into his reality. It would be interesting to find out if that was a limit of the station software, or a fundamental law of nature in its own right. Unfortunately he was unable to question the creators on the topic. Watson had been right about the creator’s lack of interest in mere mortals, a real pity, as Sobachka surely would have enjoyed a ball that worked backward. Artem had learned that the dog knew the laws of nature very well. She had always adapted quickly to the switch between gravity and zero gravity.

  He knew enough now. Artem’s self-confidence took a hit—it was as though he had been kidding himself so far. Would he really want to leave the station? He was immortal here and had infinite possibilities to lead an interesting life. He probably could populate his environment with other people. He just hadn’t tried that so far because he had been afraid that the station software might create independent personae that never had the choice to be on the station.

  No, it was the right decision to leave. He would not have been able to resist the temptations over time. And he would grow mad from omnipotence.

  It was better to leave now rather than later.

  Artem remembered the huge and perfectly circular entrance to this part of the station very clearly. It materialized before him the moment he visualized it. It felt as though empty space had blinked, like an old display having trouble with its power supply, or had that been an illusion? The entrance was perfectly real in any case. Artem followed it with his eyes. Then he turned left to touch the frame. Sobachka followed him. To her everything appeared normal. The material was hard and cool to the touch, similar to Lexan plastic with a thin film of oil. Artem wiped his hand on his pants, but it did not create an oil smear.

  “Come, Sobachka!”

  Together they reentered the golden tissue beyond which the deadly vacuum of space waited to claim its dues. This time Artem wasn’t so sure about that. In his former reality he had imagined a few wisps of energy moving along a hyper-surface or whatever his physical plane of existence actually was. For creators, that was their normal habitat. Living in four dimensions would be limiting and primitive to them. He remembered how curved spaces had been explained to him in school. He had been asked to imagine ants that existed on a curved two-dimensional sheet. For the creators, humankind were ants that kept crawling on a sphere all their life without ever piercing the surface.

  The end of the huge golden corridor had infinite blackness waiting for him. Artem looked down. Earth had to be somewhere there. If he knew where to look he could probably see it with his naked eye, much like he had looked for it in the Mercury sky from time to time.

  “Where are you going?” That was the voice of the AI. Did it suspect something? If so, would it have the means to stop him?

  “A nostalgic walk. I am trying to relive my arrival here.”

  “That’s interesting. Why didn’t you invite me? I would like to be part of that.”

  If Watson only knew! I must be very careful not to give my plan away. “I thought you were busy,” Artem replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “I apologize for not taking care of you very much recently. This station is simply fascinating. I have learned so much here.”

  Watson’s hologram formed out of thin air. Watson was meticulously rendered right down to his worn leather satchel.

  “No problem. It has been much the same for me. And I have just started to learn.”

  Watson hurried to catch up. He overtook Artem and stood in front of him. Artem paid no heed and simply walked through him.

  “Ouch,” Watson cried, walking beside him again.

  “Come on, that didn’t hurt.”

  “True, I’ll admit that. You are too clever.”

  As generous with the compliments as always, but Artem would not fall for that.

  “And when you have arrived at the outset?” Watson asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go back. I’ll decide that when we are there.”

  “Back? How do you mean that? You do know that you can’t go back to your old life?”

  “What are you talking about? It is far too interesting here.”

  “Indeed,” Watson agreed. “Besides, you would lose immortality if you went back to your material form.”

  Thanks, Watson, that confirms my plan very nicely indeed, Artem thought.

  “Not only that,” the AI added, “You would force me to terminate your life. I can’t let you out of the station. You would endanger the project.”

  “You sure have some crazy ideas,” Artem replied. “I’d be a fool to leave this safe place to expose myself to the dangers of the sun out there.”

  “No, you aren’t that stupid,” confirmed the AI. “I apologize, I just noticed how insulting my idea
s must be for you. I do know you are a reliable person.”

  They had reached the end of the bridge. Artem turned around one last time. It was a pity. The serenity of their first encounter was no longer around. Artem bent down and attached a leash to Sobachka. Then he spread his arms and waited for the force field. He knew it would come and carry him through the darkness. And there it was, lifting him up ever so softly. It felt like anti-gravity, but in the end it was just an illusion. That was a real pity. They would not be able to learn anything from the creators. The differences simply were too vast. Could a bacterium learn anything from a human? It might adapt and nourish itself with his sweat or other microorganisms on his skin, but it would never learn anything about philosophy or literature from him.

  Artem pulled on the leash to bring Sobachka closer. She was completely calm, truly the perfect space dog. Unlike during their entry, it was not pitch black. Watson’s hologram provided a minimum of light. This allowed Artem to notice the yacht as they drew closer. The ship had not changed. This version, anyway. Calmly Artem grabbed the tip of the yacht. The material still was warm as though the ship had been waiting with engines running.

  “Everything just as we left it. We can go back now,” remarked Watson. He sounded a bit impatient.

  “I didn’t ask you to come along, it’s no problem for you to go back.”

  “I have time,” Watson said. “You are my responsibility. I don’t want anything to happen to you, so I’ll stay with you.”

  “You don’t want anything to happen to the conglomerate plans.”

  “That, too. One doesn’t exclude the other, necessarily.”

  “But if it does? If I would only be well if the station did not fall into RB’s hands?”

  “I… don’t believe that. I have very clear instructions. You won’t take that risk.”

  “Why not?”

  “Here on the station you have everything. You are immortal and almighty. Out there you have nothing. And even if you’d make it out of the solar orbit somehow, the conglomerate would be looking for you for the rest of your life. You are a fugitive thief.”

  “Maybe,” conceded Artem.

  “Oh, for sure.”

  “Whatever. I’ll go inside now.”

  “Why do that?”

  Watson appeared to be on the verge of panic.

  “Relishing nostalgia! People are that way,” he explained, and added “but you can’t understand that.”

  “I know all human behavioral parameters. The probability that an individual with your profile would enter the yacht for pure nostalgia is extremely small.”

  “You tell me why, then.” Artem moved along the hull, Sobachka directly behind him. He only needed to stall for time now. The hatch was open.

  “I suspect you want to save the NASA ship.”

  “Wouldn’t that be out of character? Have I ever been interested in other people?” He had reached the hatch. He pushed Sobachka carefully ahead and pulled himself in behind her.

  “That’s true. You only ever showed interest in yourself. And in Sobachka.”

  “There you go.” He closed the hatch and shut the lock by turning it clockwise once. Then he hit the button that opened the inside hatch. Watson’s hologram appeared beside him and pushed into the ship ahead of him. Artem recognized everything, even the smell.

  “I really must warn you, Artem. If you leave the station you will die.”

  “That is a real danger, so close to the solar surface.”

  Artem turned around and closed the inner hatch. Sobachka sniffed the floor. She didn’t seem to be fully convinced. Maybe his memory wasn’t perfect. His sense of smell was different from hers. He had never smelled what she was missing now.

  “I am the danger. I will kill you. I must do it. Please do not put me in that situation.”

  “You are experienced now. They say the next time will be easier.” He slowly went to his seat. Artem sat down, strapped in, and unfolded the display.

  “I am no killer, Artem. It hurts to kill humans. Please do not force me to do that.”

  So far the threats were empty. Artem was immortal here. Watson could not prevent anything here as long as the AI could not read his thoughts.

  “I don’t force you to do anything, Watson. You must be confusing things. It is the mission implanted by RB that does this. But I can’t accommodate that.”

  “Artem, please don’t rush into anything. We can talk about everything.”

  The display had powered up. Artem started entering data. He was programming a course that would take him thirty kilometers below the station. It didn’t really matter what he was entering. It was part of the routine. But there was no way of knowing if it would work out. Artem made an effort to stay completely calm. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

  “Artem, be reasonable, I am giving you one last chance. I will count to three, and if you do not get out by then you will have to bear the consequences.”

  It was an empty threat—it simply had to be. Artem held on tight to the armrest with his left hand. The AI had no chance to do anything here. It was not possible. And if it was possible, then it would not matter. Artem had cast his die. He intended to help the NASA ship. Watson knew him quite well, all things considered.

  “… two… three,” Watson counted.

  Artem hit the start button on the display and lost consciousness.

  He was drifting in water. It was dark. He didn’t see it, but it tasted salty and smelled of storm. Artem paddled as hard as he could. He gulped for air. Water blasted his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, over and over again. Up and down had lost their meaning. Artem fought for his life. He had to breathe, he knew that, but he was afraid of swallowing water. Dark waves rolled over him. One arm pull and he surfaced. He tore his mouth open, taking a huge breath of fresh, salty air that finally satisfied his screaming lungs.

  Artem opened his eyes. His breathing was ragged. He was real again. It was as though he had never had air in these lungs before. And maybe that was true. He frantically checked his surroundings. Had his plan worked out? He no longer sat in the cockpit. He was bending over a trapdoor in the floor instead. It was open and he recognized a large red button. It had worked, at least as far as this part of the plan was concerned.

  “Artem, I warned you!” Watson yelled. “Did you think you would escape me?”

  “How come you are here?”

  “Of course I am here. Does that surprise you?”

  “Not really, to be honest. I just hoped for the best. I wished for it and imagined it real hard. How is that for you? Does that match your plans?”

  “I…”

  He never had experienced the AI at a loss for words, but the moment passed quickly.

  “No. My plan was to destroy you with the solar magnetic fields while you tried to get away. But that does not matter. This way we die together.”

  Artem noticed the drive starting up. The AI had set a new course and he was pretty sure where it was heading.

  “I am sorry but it won’t work that way, Watson. I have chosen another day to die. You won’t determine that, it is my choice alone.”

  He hit the red button as hard as he could.

  “What…”

  “What are you doing?” seemed to be the AI’s unfinished question. Artem had pushed the emergency shutdown. The AI was deactivated and no longer had any control over the ship. He had changed the yacht in exactly two places in his mind. Now it had a conveniently placed kill switch for the AI. And he had managed to return to that very location in reality. He was a good conjuring apprentice. The creators would have been proud of him, had they been able to see how much he had learned in such a short time. Artem stood up and went to his chair. Sobachka had made herself comfortable there. He picked her up, sat down, and put her on his lap. Then he took his time to pat and stroke her extensively.

  After that he reprogrammed their trajectory. The second change had worked out, too. The tanks were full now. He was free. He could vi
sit just about any location in the solar system, roughly up to the Mars orbit. But first he had to try to help the NASA ship out of their plight.

  June 3, 2074, Solar Explorer

  “Heather, Callis, you must come and look at this,” Alain called from above. Heather was just done getting dressed again. Callis gave her a broad smile.

  “Lucky us,” he said.

  Heather squeezed his hand and floated up into the command module. Amy activated the mist display above the table.

  “Here, this is what we just captured,” she said while pointing at the representation.

  The display showed the sand clock shape of the alien station, centering on the end that pointed to the solar North Pole.

  “Here it goes,” Amy announced.

  Suddenly a huge arc detached itself from the solar surface and leapt to the alien station in the space of just a few seconds. Just before reaching the station it arced back, forming a huge needle’s eye, only to tear off.

  “One moment. Here is the data from the magnetometer.”

  The arc did not tear off, it continued invisibly back to the solar surface. The material, however—the plasma the magnetic field had carried along which was all they could see—had simply disappeared.

  “It’s gone, simply gone,” Amy exclaimed, unable to believe what she just had seen.

  “That was huge amounts of plasma being transported to the station,” explained Alain, “only to disappear into nowhere.”

  “Like a vacuum cleaner,” Heather echoed him.

  “But where is the dirtbag?” Callis asked. He now stood behind her and had placed his warm hand on her shoulder.

  “The bag must be invisible. Material can’t just disappear.”

  “You are right, Heather,” Amy confirmed, “you’ll see it in a moment.”