by Issui Ogawa
The video was replaced by a mixture of text and mathematical formulas. Dorothy scrutinized it for a moment and leaned back in her chair. “Physics and higher mathematics are not my specialty. What is this, I wonder?”
“It looks like they’re picking up radio emissions from under the permafrost in Eden Crater. Or maybe it’s radioactivity, like a uranium deposit.”
“Whatever it is, the impact on Sixth Continent is unknown.” On the screen, the video was playing back in a loop. They watched as the readout changed with the distance from the surface.
BOOK III
FINAL SHAKEDOWN,
2036–2037
CHAPTER 8
ARCHITECTURE, OPERATIONS MANAGEMENT, AND ADDITIONAL CONSTRUCTION
[1]
THE DAWN KNIFED through the gap in the distant mountain range. The two-week lunar day had begun.
The sun did not rise; it moved sideways. The triple array of solar panels at the western edge of the base were first to receive its light. The sparkling panels extended for hundreds of meters, like a castle’s first line of defense.
Next to emerge from darkness were the arched roofs of the three habitat wings—single-story white structures with small windows that housed Sixth Continent’s guests and the base crew. The design was not only optimized for pressure containment, it contributed to the aesthetics of the buildings. A repeating band of inverted semicircles fashioned from ice—a decorative Lombard corbel table—wrapped the building where the roof and walls met. The decoration was created with a numerically controlled sprayer program, the brainchild of one of Gotoba’s architectural designers.
Then sunlight slowly unveiled the massive bulk of the Great Hall. The habitats extended from the hall on an east/west axis, like transepts. This was Sixth Continent’s largest building, its footprint as large as the habitat wings combined. It housed a banquet room for thirty, a kitchen, a bridal room, and most of the base’s sports and entertainment facilities.
East of the Great Hall stood the cathedral, topped with a twenty-meter spire. Soft light fell on the altar through a stained glass window in the arched end wall of the chancel. The mood was more solemn than lavish.
Gotoba’s designers had taken full advantage of architectural forms dictated by the environment—simple shapes, arched roofs, few windows—and created an echo of the Romanesque style. The beautiful cathedral, a pinnacle of science and technology optimized for the lunar environment, embodied the beauty of a grand building of the Middle Ages. To the cathedral spire the architects had added echoes of the Gothic, the style that succeeded the Romanesque. Form followed function: the tower concealed a gravity-fed water tank With enough pressure to service the entire base. The weight of the spire reinforced the high-ceilinged cathedral by bearing down on the roof.
A week later, as sun and Earth drew closer on the horizon, the entire complex was bathed in sunlight. East of the cathedral was SELS, the Sealed Environment Life Support module. Air, water, electrical power, heat, ventilation, and waste disposal were all produced and controlled here. Drawing on the experience of Kunlun Base, conduits for water, oxygen, and other life-support elements were carefully encased in spaces between the blocks that formed the walls of the buildings, concealing the conduits and guaranteeing their structural integrity. Maintenance was performed by robots that scuttled through the conduits. Bidirectional loop circulation ensured that vital life support would be maintained even with temporary blockages.
Where it could be carried out efficiently, waste was recycled. Unrecycled waste was not discarded in the open, as at Kunlun. It was compressed and neatly stored in trenches. This waste contained elements not available on the moon, and the day would come when they could be recovered.
East of SELS was Xiwangmu 6, the cement production sector, and the collection area for permafrost from the bulk shooter. The equipment in this area would eventually be moved or dismantled. For now, it was concealed by a wall of blocks that protected the base from regolith contamination from Liberty Island.
The spaceport was situated at the eastern edge of the base. Once the port was completed, the Turtles were lined up nearby, like aircraft beside a helipad. The port was a graded site three hundred meters across. Its array of red and blue landing lights were a dazzling beacon for arriving visitors.
The base was divided into distinct zones, with each in functional relation to its neighbor. Preventing regolith contamination was an absolute priority, so the spaceport and permafrost collection areas were far from the Great Hall. Between these areas and the main building was the SELS module, which did not need careful shielding from contamination. The living quarters were located away from sectors where accidents might occur.
Finally, at the greatest possible distance from potential accidents and contamination were the solar arrays. The arrays were the only part of the base visible from the habitat windows. Beyond them, in the daytime, stretched the white lunar surface. During the lunar night, Earth’s blue and white globe floated on the horizon against a background of stars.
Sixth Continent’s layout had another purpose as well: to create a sense of excitement in arriving visitors.
“IT’S BEAUTIFUL…”
Tae looked down at the gleaming lights of the spaceport rising to meet them. The descent module’s engine fired again, easing the spacecraft onto the landing pad. After a few minutes the side hatch opened. The six passengers moved through an air lock into a pressurized compartment without the need for space suits. Once they were safely aboard, the container lowered itself to its chassis, and the robot shuttle set off for the Great Hall.
Scenery flowed by the shuttle windows—first the screening wall, with construction equipment visible through gaps, then SELS, and finally the cathedral and the Great Hall. The views changed smoothly from barren and industrial to elegant and timeless. As they approached the facade of the cathedral, Tae and the other passengers gasped with amazement. It was covered with a majestic mural depicting the Garden of Eden.
This gradual change of aspect and psychological impact from the spaceport to the Great Hall had been Tae’s concept, but she was struck with emotion as she experienced it for the first time. She also felt a twinge of fear.
“So, Ms. Toenji—what do you think?” A journalist named Sumoto thrust a pen mic toward her. The camera in his sunglasses showed a beautiful young woman sitting across the shuttle aisle, looking out the window. Tae tucked her hair behind an ear but kept her eyes on the scenery.
“I’m grateful. None of this would’ve been possible without the support of so many people. It’s been a long road.”
“Construction has taken four years longer than you originally planned. How do you feel now that it’s almost finished?”
“Happier than words can say.”
The reporter was hoping for something meatier. He leaned forward, held the mic closer. “You seem a little nervous. Can you tell me about that?”
“Careful, Mr. Sumoto.” The reporter glanced at the old man next to him just as the shuttle jerked sharply and stopped. Before the reporter could brace himself, he pitched forward and landed facedown in Tae’s lap.
“I’ve never had a man in my lap before,” said Tae with a laugh. Sumoto began apologizing profusely.
“Did you forget the prelaunch briefing? It’s hard to keep your balance in this weak gravity.” The old man smiled and helped the reporter up. Sumoto scratched his head with embarrassment, muttered something about “first off the boat,” and headed for the exit.
For a moment Tae and Aaron were alone. “You’re scared, aren’t you? And not about being on the moon,” he said.
“Yes, I am scared. I haven’t seen him since he took me to the hospital.”
“Don’t worry. When you see each other again, you’ll both know.”
The cathedral facade loomed over them. They could hear the boarding tube extending from the Great Hall, then the interlock and the door opening. There was a slight breeze as the pressure equalized. A recorded voice said, “
You have arrived at Sixth Continent. Please be sure to take all your belongings.”
The pilot, Sumoto, and two women here to join the base staff exited the shuttle. Tae stood up, twitched her nose, and sniffed the air. She looked puzzled, then smiled. “It smells like a church. Stone and burning candles.”
“The base manual says that’s concrete and the odor-neutralizing system.”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t smell like a ramen shop. He remembered…”
Aaron helped Tae through the hatch. They walked through an inflated tunnel and entered a space that could have been the lobby of a luxury hotel.
Structural colors—minute surface treatments that reflected light like butterfly wings—had been used on the walls instead of pigments, which would have off gassed as they dried. The shimmering surface texture was wholly unlike concrete. Shallow niches in the walls were skillfully lit to suggest depth. Ivy nurtured from seeds wound up toward the ceiling, framing a huge statue of a peaceful figure that could have been either a saint or a bodhisattva, carved from concrete. The floor was tiled with fused regolith particles; the surface was pitted, with a soft effect like dark cork.
Tae stared skeptically at the ivy and the sculpture. That statue might have to go, she thought, but Aaron and Sumoto stood looking at it with awe.
“Welcome to Sixth Continent, Ms. Toenji.” Lined up to greet her were the base crew in functional white jumpsuits and the bridal crew in dark blue formal wear.
“Greetings, everyone,” said Tae.
February 10, 2036. Six months before its grand opening, Sixth Continent was welcoming its creator.
“WHOA! THAT’s HOT!”
The pot on the stove belched a geyser of boiling soup. Sohya ducked. The bearded chef rushed over and turned down the heat.
“What the hell are you doing? Don’t come crying to me if you scald yourself!”
“Sorry. I didn’t think it would boil up like that.”
“The low gravity keeps vapor from circulating. The bubbles build up in the bottom of the pot and blow all at once. How many times have you been here anyway?”
“This is my sixth trip. But we never had pots or a proper kitchen before. Anyway, how come you know all this? You just got here.”
“Dome Fuji was at thirty-eight hundred meters. If you don’t watch out, a pot lid can blow off at that elevation.” Kashiwabara shook his head and began cleaning up. He had actually arrived three months before to begin developing the menus for Sixth Continent. His Antarctic experience had been invaluable; he had quickly factored in the effects of low gravity on the cooking process. In the kitchen, Kashiwabara’s word was law.
Now he was adding generous amounts of salt to the potage. “If you can’t even watch a pot for me, you’re not going to be of much use here.”
Sohya’s eyes widened as he saw how much salt the chef was using. “Um, isn’t that going to be a little too sal—”
“Three days of weightlessness dulls the taste buds. Now get out of here. You have visitors to greet.”
“That’s why I was hiding out here,” grumbled Sohya as he headed for the door.
He walked out of Kashiwabara’s kingdom into the banquet hall just as a bow-tied maître d’ was pouring champagne onto the floor. The man hurriedly set the bottle on one of the round tables. A two-meter fountain of champagne promptly shot into the air. “What’s this?” said Sohya, surprised.
“I wish I knew,” said the maître d’, sadly holding his trouser cuffs out of the pool on the floor. “I opened it as usual. But when I tried to pour, it overshot the glass.”
“I told you, it’s because of the low—”
“I know, I know. But it’s not second nature yet. What a waste. That was vintage Krug.”
“You were at Les Caves Taillevent, right? You’ve got a reputation to preserve, Mr. Kiwa.”
“True—but I’m no sommelier.”
Sosuke Kiwa had been maître d’hôtel at one of Tokyo’s finest French restaurants. Rumor had it that on at least one occasion he had waited on the emperor himself. But the moon was giving him problems. Sohya was helping him wipe the floor when a wail came from the bridal room next door.
“Help! I can’t move!”
Sohya rushed in and found Kanna Mikimoto, another member of the bridal crew, wearing a wedding dress and walking furiously in place, as if on a treadmill. Sohya rolled his eyes.
“Okay. What are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything! I’m just trying to walk, but I’m not getting anywhere.”
Sohya went behind her and lifted the long hem of the dress. She immediately took a few stumbling steps forward. “Oh—what did you do?”
“That dress has a better grip on the floor than your shoes do. You don’t weigh enough.”
“What should we do? We don’t have a train bearer.”
“Maybe we can sew some dozer bearings into the hem to cut the friction. They might rattle on the floor though.” He looked askance at Mikimoto, who had come with stellar bona fides as an assistant Shinto priest of Usa Shrine, second only to Ise Grand Shrine in the Shinto hierarchy. “Why are you playing bride at a time like this anyway?”
She laughed nervously. “I’ve worn the Shinto-style white kimono before, but never the dress.” Sohya stared at her with incomprehension. “At least I found a problem before we used it.”
“Go ahead and make the alterations. Just don’t wear it out, okay?”
“Yes, sir.” She left the room. Sohya sighed. Limited staffing was forcing everyone to wear multiple hats. Mikimoto would assist Aaron during Shinto weddings. Kiwa the maître d’ would double as concierge and interpreter for English, French, and German. Yamagiwa was heading the base crew. He had also been approved by the Foreign Ministry to act as a one-man Japanese consulate.
Tae wanted her employees to have comfortable working conditions, but that was not realistic, especially before the base was even fully staffed. No one was getting enough sleep; it would have been unfair for Sohya to bear down too hard for the occasional mistake.
Sixth Continent had entered Phase Three. Structural work was nearly complete. Staff training and operational testing of the base’s control systems were in full swing. During the past two years, Sohya had spent more time here than on Earth, overseeing construction and installation of interior fittings.
The amount of work still facing them was truly daunting. Sohya was either on the surface directing construction or back on Earth running from one Gotoba department to another till all hours of the morning. Gotoba’s engineers had to rely on simulations—Sohya was the only one with a detailed sense of the actual operating conditions. He was solicited for advice on everything: bolt strength and odor-control design, the firmness of the chairs and the pressure in the washlet. A certain amount of discontent was sparked by his seemingly monopolizing all opportunities for travel to the moon. Then something happened to silence the criticism.
Sohya was at Gotoba headquarters when, due to a software glitch, an ice sprayer ended up sealing one of the lunar construction crew into a habitat work space. Dismantling the structure with multidozers would have taken far too long. The fastest option was to use carpenter robots to drill through to him, but that would still take three days. The astronaut was equipped with nothing more than a hand drill and a medical kit. There was just enough breathable air in the space where he was trapped, but the battery on his suit’s CO2 scrubber would not hold out for long.
The flight surgeon’s recommendation was to use the drill’s battery to keep the CO2 scrubber working. The astronaut would also take enough morphine to slow his respiration while he waited for rescue. But Sohya intervened. A large dose of morphine without close medical monitoring would be dangerous. Instead, he proposed using all available battery power to keep the astronaut warm. Sohya waved off the flight surgeon’s worries about CO2 and insisted that his plan be followed.
The astronaut was none the worse for wear when he was rescued seventy hours later. The space where he was
trapped had been scored with fine lines to generate structural colors. This effectively increased the wall area by several times, and the concrete itself had CO2 absorption properties. Sohya had noticed during construction that CO2 concentrations seemed to rise only slowly in such spaces. He knew the astronaut had a margin of safety even without the scrubber.
This incident proved the wisdom of having at least one crew member with as many hours of on-site experience as possible. Sohya’s knowledge was indispensable. Unfortunately, it also guaranteed that he never had any time off.
Sohya was tired. The theater dome was still under construction, so he made his way into the cathedral to find some quiet. He sat down in one of the pews. A few moments later Yamagiwa walked in.
“There you are, Aomine. Everything ready for the big dinner?”
“Can we push it back an hour? We’ve still got a skeleton crew.
It’s total chaos in the dining room and the kitchen.”
“I’ve got to get over to SELS. The software thought all that extra body heat was a fire. Now the oxygen generator’s shut down. I have to recalibrate the system.”
“I’ll never laugh at Kunlun again. Did the guests notice anything?”
“I persuaded our journalist friend to check out his quarters. But our special guest—”
“Speak of the devil.” Sohya stood up. Tae was framed in the door behind Yamagiwa, clad in her usual monotone ensemble. She doffed her beret and bowed, hands crossed formally over her thighs.
“Hello, Sohya. It’s been a long time.”
The way she leaned forward at the hips was as graceful as a narcissus. She straightened up and gave Sohya a slightly questioning up-from-under look. Her skirt billowed behind her as she walked slowly toward him in the one-sixth gravity. A gentle puff of some restrained floral fragrance reached him. Tae was twenty-four. She was no longer a girl.
