by Stan Ruecker
Rachel frowned. If they’d been copied, then someone had accessed them somehow. She read the next paragraph.
“The problem is that for purposes of preservation, these archives have been sealed in cabinets filled with argon. I’ve seen copies of material duplicated from at least three different cabinets, and the seals on those cabinets are intact. After the first two were violated, I arranged for a surveillance camera on the third. A copy of the tape is enclosed.”
Rachel ran the movie. It showed the cabinet being sealed with clear silicon and filled with argon, then left sitting. Kim had cut and paste to the next interesting sequence, which showed a digital calendar dated several weeks after the cabinet was installed. Suddenly there was a light showing inside the cabinet, shining out through the clear seals. It looked like a camera flash going off.
“I had the cabinet opened the next day,” Kim said, “after checking myself that the seals were unbroken. There was nothing inside but the documents. The argon levels never dropped. I subsequently obtained copies of the contents of the archive from my source inside the Foundation. My best conclusion is that they’ve developed a nanotechnology that allows them to enter the system at the molecular level, without damaging the seals. The infinitesimal invaders then amalgamate into a device large enough to record the data, which is transmitted out before they disassemble themselves and leave.”
Rachel sat for a minute, tapping her front teeth with the edge of a notepad.
An afternoon at the movies
There was a lineup outside the theatre. Ray reached into his pocket and took the drone out.
“I didn’t have to stay in there,” it said. “I was just being polite. I could’ve burnt my way out, or cut right through the cloth, or …”
“Thanks,” Ray said, “for being patient.”
The drone zipped up and took a look at the sign that was flashing at the front of the lineup.
“What does it say?” Ray asked when it came back.
“I don’t know,” the drone said. “I can’t read it.”
“I thought you had access to all this information,” Ray said.
The drone flew close to Ray’s ear and whispered.
“Numbers are easy,” it said. “It’s the language that’s always a problem. If I had the full resources on board I‘d be fine, but out here I have a pretty small capacity.”
“So, what’s playing?” Ray asked the horse.
It looked up at the flashing sign.
“You get your choice,” the horse said. “One is a story about an avalanche—you know, dirt falling—and the other is a classic about vegetation.”
“Vegetation?” Ray asked. “What’s the plot?”
“What’s plot?” the horse asked.
“You know,” the drone said. “The story. Who does what. What order they do it in.”
“The dirt falls,” the horse said. “That’s all. Or the plants grow. You get your choice.”
“How many plants?” Ray asked.
“Three.”
“I think we’ll go for the avalanche. What do you think?” he asked the drone.
“I was happy at the races.”
“I know you were. So which is it going to be: falling dirt or plants growing?”
“I’m willing to go for the dirt.”
“Good choice,” the horse said. “There’s a part where you actually get to see something moving in the dirt. At least that’s what the trailers said.”
“Sounds riveting,” the drone said, but it flew out of reach as Ray went to stuff it back in his pocket.
It turned out the movie was three hours of dirt sliding, often in slow motion. The camera caught it from every angle, and there were quite a few closeups. At the end of the movie, when Ray reached for the drone, it was lying dormant on the seat beside him.
“Hey,” he said. “Wake up.”
He gave the drone a shake, and suddenly it stirred in his hands.
“I must have shut down,” it said. “Man, that was unbelievable.”
“It was good, wasn’t it?” the horse said. “I really liked the part where the rock started rolling, just where it started.”
“I remember,” Ray said.
The horse was a velvety green colour.
“It’s not every day you get to see dirt like that,” the horse said. “In fact, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen it. I mean, I‘ve seen pictures, of course, but never an actual movie. It must have cost a fortune to make it.”
“I don’t get it,” the drone said.
“It was only dirt,” Ray pointed out. “I mean, the avalanche was kind of exciting, I guess, but really, you can see dirt any time.”
“What are you talking about?” the horse said.
“Dirt. There’s dirt everywhere.”
The horse backed off a little. It had gone an alarming shade of chartreuse. “Look around you,” it said. “Do you see any dirt?”
“Well, not here,” Ray admitted. “But back on Earth…”
Suddenly it dawned on him.
“I get it,” he said. “I come from a planet.”
“A planet?” the horse asked, and its colour started to fade. “You mean, an actual planet, with growing things and wind and rain and all that?”
“You bet,” Ray said. “It’s an attractive planet too.”
“Wow,” the horse said. “And so you’ve seen dirt live?”
“Sure,” Ray said.
The horse tapped at the decking with one of its hooves. Then it looked up from under its forelock.
“Does dirt really look like that?” it asked.
“Yeah,” Ray said. “Yeah, I’d say so. It was a little bit blue for the kind of dirt I’m used to—”
The horse let out a whinny, clearly alarmed.
“—but really,” Ray interrupted quickly, “that might just have been a trick of the light.”
“Now what?” the drone asked. “We’ve all had kind of a long day, I think.”
“Can you take us to the airlocks?” Ray suggested. “Lucy should be here pretty soon. Can you check?”
The drone nipped over to a wall socket and plugged itself in.
“She’s just incoming,” it told Ray.
“Okay,” he said to the horse. “Can you take us to her dock?”
“Sure,” the horse said, recovering its self-assurance. “But it’ll cost you.”
Pick up
The docks were less crowded this time through.
“Where did everybody go?” Ray asked the horse.
“They’re asleep. And the next shift hasn’t really gotten into full swing yet.”
Ray took one last look around the alien spacestation, trying to burn it into his memory.
“I don’t suppose,” Ray said to the drone, “ You have the capacity to take a picture of this place?”
“I remember the things we’ve done. But I don’t keep visual records. I do have an idea, though.”
The drone rotated on its access and addressed itself to the horse.
“Before we leave,” he said, “Can we get a postcard?”
“Sure,” the horse said, “I have some right here.”
A little holographic display shone out of the back end of the horse. It showed half a dozen different views of the station, both inside and out.
“That’s great,” Ray said. “Can we get a few of them?”
“Whatever you want,” the drone said, flashing a light in one of the horse’s ears. “It’s on the peacocks.”
Ray chose three that he liked, and the horse printed hardcopies for him.
“Thank you,” Ray said, inexplicably relieved. “Is it much further?”
“Not at all,” the horse said. “In fact, here she is—right where she’s supposed to be.”
The drone flashed another light in the horse’s ear.
“Thanks for everything,” Ray said, and the horse trotted away.
Cinnamon was waiting when they got through the airlock.
“Hey
!” Ray shouted. “Wait a minute there.”
But it was no good. She jumped almost into his arms in her excitement, and licked at his face, his hands, his chest.
The little probe worked its way out of Ray’s pocket and disappeared down the corridor.
“Wait a minute!” Ray yelled again, but the probe took the turn and was gone.
“Hello, Ray,” said Lucy.
“Where did she go?” he asked.
“My probe? Just into storage. I could decommission her, but once I create something, I like keeping it around. I have this theory that you never know what you might want until you want it. You know—experience is worth preserving.”
“Do you really think it is?”
“No.”
“But she’ll be all right?”
“Yeah. If you want, I can get her to power up again.”
Ray thought while he pulled off his boots and Cinnamon pressed her front quarters against the floor, her tail high like a flag, her tongue lolling.
“No,” he said, while Cinnamon suddenly took off with one of his boots, “maybe I’ll just wait a while.”
Kevin goes through a bad spell
Kevin couldn’t sleep for worrying. They’d already come into his apartment once, with electronics sniffers, no less, and gone over every square inch. There wasn’t a piece of equipment in the room they hadn’t located. And they just loaded it all into a couple of boxes, wrote his name on them with a marker, and carried it all away.
“Karen,” he’d wailed. “They can’t do that. It’s illegal. They didn’t have a warrant or anything. They didn’t even make me sign a receipt.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin,” was all she said. “It’s the same for everybody. They’re cleaning the entire station. You’ll get your stuff back. They marked it, didn’t they?”
“Sure,” Kevin said. “They wrote on a cardboard box with a marker. For all I know, they’re selling it as we speak.”
“They aren’t,” she reassured him. “It’s nothing like that. They’re just worried about the system, that’s all. If there is something wrong with the computers, you know as well as I do it could affect everything—even the ventilation system is computerized. How do we know it isn’t some disaster waiting to happen?”
“I’ve already cleaned everything,” Kevin said. “You know that.”
“But how do you know you got it all?”
“I could tell,” Kevin said. “I’m starting to get a feel for it. I know how it thinks. That doesn’t sound very good, maybe, not like I really know what I’m doing. But I do.”
“Of course you do,” Karen said sarcastically. “You don’t even know what this thing is. This virus or whatever. For all you know, it’s main job is to kill us all some night in our sleep.”
“That’s the problem,” Kevin said. “We don’t know what it is, and they think they can cover their butts by brute force.”
“Brute force works good,” Karen said. “You should just be happy they’re going to give your stuff back at all.”
“How do I know they are? They didn’t promise me anything. Maybe they’re going to space the whole works.”
“Unlikely,” Karen said. “But I think they could if they want to. Personal property doesn’t mean all that much on a space station, Kev.”
“It means something to me,” he said, slightly surprised that what he was saying was true. “If it’s my stuff.”
“You’re just mad because you won’t be able to finish your alien virus thing.”
“It’s not just that,” he said, but it was just that. He really didn’t care all that much about his personal computer equipment. He had all the equipment he wanted, and more, any time he wanted it. They were very liberal about loaning things from the shop. Karen was.
“So how long?” Kevin asked her, suddenly feeling a bit chagrined. “How long before I get it back?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Karen said. “I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll go and see McArthy this afternoon, and find out what the schedule is going to be, who’s doing the work. I expect they’ll put Jeff on the cleaning schedules. I can talk to him in the morning and see if he can’t move yours up the queue a bit.”
“Do you think you could do that for me?” Kevin asked, as gently as he knew how. “It just bothers me, somehow. Not so much that they’re going to wipe all my stuff, but more they way they did it.”
“They didn’t want anybody to know about it ahead of time,” Karen said. “They were worried that somebody might hide a copy of something and it would have a piece of the alien virus in it. You know, somebody with a pet project, and who just didn’t want to lose a few week’s worth of work. That could happen, if they hadn’t been backing everything up through the regular system.”
“It’s still not fair,” Kevin said.
“They’re scared,” Karen told him. “That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Settling in
“Did you miss me?”
“How could I miss you?” Ray asked. “You sent your drone along to keep me company.”
“But they took her away.”
“They did do that. But we both escaped.”
“So I heard.”
“What about you?”
“I had Cinnamon here.”
“You did too miss me; I know you did.”
“So I missed you. So what?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“It doesn’t mean anything that you missed me,” Ray said. “I don’t know why I insisted on it.”
“You aren’t mad because I abandoned you on that ship, are you?”
“No. It wasn’t your fault. They threw you out.”
“And knocked me on the head, too.”
“What?” Ray couldn’t picture it. “How do you hit an alien space probe on the head?”
“I think it must’ve been some kind of strong nuclear pulse.”
“Like an electromagnetic pulse.”
“Yeah, but stronger. I’m shielded against all kinds of pulses.”
“Maybe it was a legume,” Ray said, then burst out in hysterical giggles.
“Very funny.”
Ray wiped his eyes.
“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “maybe I’ve just got a big sense of relief or something.”
“You’ve been through quite a bit. If it isn’t a space ship it’s a space station.”
“And my rescuer is the same probe that kidnapped me in the first place.”
“I needed you.”
“So you did miss me.”
“I already said I did. Do you want it in writing, already?”
“And what about Cinnamon? That ungrateful dog.”
“I did everything in my power to undermine her affections for you,” Lucy said. “But to no avail. She refused food. She couldn’t sleep. She was inconsolable with loneliness for the sound of your voice.”
“You could’ve played her a tape. You must have samples of my voice somewhere.”
“You are a heartless pragmatist, Ray.”
“I am not.”
“And besides, she wasn’t fooled. She wanted to see you, and the voice wasn’t enough for her.”
“I don’t suppose you know where she’s has gotten to with that boot?”
“Under your bunk.”
“With the boot.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got another one?”
“No problem.”
A boot appeared in a slot in the wall to his right. Ray picked it up, set it with the other boot, and put them together in a locker.
“So what do you think, Lucy? Your drone and I managed to get out of there on our own. I’d say that’s pretty good, wouldn’t you? Just the two of us against all those peacocks.”
“Ray.”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s your knapsack? The one with the thermos bottle.”
Ray looked quickly around him.<
br />
“Uh,” he said.
“You left it with the Algarians, didn’t you?”
“If those were the peacocks with marbles in their mouths, yeah.”
“All right,” she said. “Good job.”
“Wait a minute!”
“Yes, Ray?”
“That thermos bottle was clearly marked ‘Do Not Discard.’ And now you’re saying ‘good job’?”
“Did you have the wax paper when you needed it?”
Ray stuck his hands in his pockets.
“That isn’t very nice, you know,” he said.
“Now Ray, don’t get all self-righteous on me. The thermos will keep those Algarians busy for quite a few years, local time.”
Ray crossed his arms.
“So maybe I opened it,” he said.
“You couldn’t.”
“What do you mean, couldn’t?”
“It wasn’t easy to open. You had to either be able to cut through the case, which was harder than anything you’ve ever seen, or be able to turn the threads in several dimensions simultaneously.”
“Like in more than three?”
“More than four, actually. You can’t do things instantaneously, can you, Ray?”
Ray looked glum.
“I guess not,” he said. He started walking down the corridor to the mess hall.
“So what was in the bottle, Lucy?”
“A treasure map.”
What partnership means
“Didn’t you tell me that we were going to be partners, Lucy?’
“Yes, Ray.”
“Doesn’t that mean something to you? I mean, doesn’t that suggest to you that there is a standard of behaviour that is appropriate under the conditions of, call it whatever you want, but I suppose if partnership is the word you have in mind, then partnership is fine, but if that’s what we are, then how come you didn’t trust me?”
“Trust you?”
“About the thermos bottle.”
“But I did trust you, Ray. I expected you would act according to character.”
“Well…” Ray stopped himself.
“What is it?”
“Never mind.”
“Ray, I want you to tell me.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
