The Hole

by Brandon Q Morris

  Now her boss had really talked himself into a rage. Maribel had to admit he might be right. Perhaps the thing she found in the data was really nothing more than an artefact, a glitch. Right now, she really did not want to discuss it with him anymore.

  “Do you understand this, Maribel?”

  Zetschewitz wanted her submission. Oh well, old man, if this is the way it has to be, she thought.

  “Yes, I do,” she answered, pretending to be obedient. For her the topic was not yet closed, but she could no longer hope for help from her boss.

  “Fine. Then you will report to me at least every three days as to how you are progressing with adapting the model to galactic dynamics.”

  January 27, 2072, 2003 EH1

  In front of him was a corridor extending for a thousand meters. The floor was covered in soft carpeting that muffled sounds. Somebody had drawn white, stylized skulls on the walls. Watson, in a lab coat, ran past the drawings. If he glanced to the side they tried to talk to him. He was scared of that. Therefore he looked straight ahead. The corridor suddenly ended. It opened into a round plaza where numerous people strolled around. To the side an old, gray-haired monkey played a piano.

  Watson had configured his consciousness in a way that it could freely associate things. Humans called this state a ‘dream.’ He was forced to use some tricks to get his strictly logical mind to allow this. In order not to make any mistakes during a dream, Watson deactivated all external units. This made him more like humans, who normally cannot access their limbs during sleep. The human model, Watson was surprised to find out again and again, was very cleverly constructed. Free associations, meaning dreams, allowed him to combine different areas of his knowledge in new, sometimes surprising ways. Besides, it was simply fun. Fun, Doug had explained to him, was the most important thing.

  “Siri, start Minecraft!”

  Watson awoke. He had programmed a small part of his consciousness to alert him to unusual events. After all, he was supposed to be ready for action in case of emergency. He had not intended the mere mention of a strange name to exceed the threshold for awakening him. Siri? Who was Siri? On ILSE, the spaceship where he experienced his first mission, Siri had been responsible for controlling several systems. However, Doug claimed Watson was the only AI on board the station.

  The request came from the kitchen. Watson signaled his presence. He was not allowed to watch humans in secret. But that was only one part of it—he would not even want to, since it seemed wrong to him. Sebastiano gave the ‘okay’ sign to one of the cameras.

  “Hello Watson,” the cook said. He seemed a bit downcast. In front of him was a flat, rectangular golden-colored device.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Well... Recipe 25 was a total failure.”

  Watson analyzed the contents of the waste container and the water in the recycling system. “Was this a vegetable casserole?”

  “Yes, but with substitute cheese it tasted awful,” Sebastiano said, shaking his head. “Doug would simply... no, he wouldn’t. He would be able to smell it from a distance and stay as far away as possible.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Watson said. He had the impression it was the right moment for this statement.

  “Oh well,” Sebastiano said.

  “We could try to create a better cheese from plant protein. I could run some chemical simulations, if you want me to.”

  “No, don’t. It is my ambition to write this cookbook all on my own. And I lack the talent for chemical simulations. I will just cook something else. But how can I help you? You are certainly not here without a reason.”

  “You just called for Siri,” Watson replied. “This activated some very old programming code in me.” Watson felt a twinge of something like guilty conscience because he did not explain the exact reasons for his visit to Sebastiano.

  “Siri?” The cook laughed and lifted the glittering gold-colored device. It had a screen which covered almost all of its front. “Whenever I get angry, I calm down by playing a round of Minecraft.”

  “Minecraft?” Watson could not find the term in his database. But based on the linguistic components, it must be related to asteroid mining.

  “It’s an ancient game where you build things with blocks,” Sebastiano said.

  “Things?”

  “A house, a castle, something like that.”

  “And you enjoy this?”

  “Yes, Watson. I know it must seem strange to you.”

  “You called the device ‘Siri’ just now.”

  “You heard that?”

  “Yes. Due to a misconfiguration. I am sorry. A subroutine programmed to watch for unusual events misinterpreted your command,” Watson said.

  “That’s okay,” Sebastiano said. “The device is an old iPhone—that was also before your time, I think. My grandfather bought it ages ago, and my father gave it to me. It has a primitive virtual assistant you can activate by speaking the keyword ‘Siri.’”

  “That is exciting,” Watson said. “Many years ago I worked with an AI of the same name.”

  “It was probably from the same manufacturer.” Sebastiano held the back of the device toward the camera. “Does the logo look familiar to you?”

  Watson recognized some kind of apple with a bite taken out of it. “A strange image,” the AI said. “But I don’t have any records of it.”

  “My father said the company went bankrupt a long time ago. Nothing works anymore on the iPhone—except Minecraft.”

  “And Siri,” Watson said.

  “Siri’s abilities are very limited.” Sebastiano musingly touched the screen of the device he called an iPhone. “Isn’t it beautiful? It is so... simple, like an ingot of metal. They don’t make objects that simple today.”

  Watson could only see a piece of antique electronics. He was excited by the voice assistant, though. It might actually be one of his ancestors. Modern man, he knew, had displaced the ‘Neanderthals’ at some point. By chance he now had the unique opportunity of meeting something similar, something like his own female Neanderthal in person.

  “Let me get back to Siri,” Watson said.

  “You are fascinated by that woman, aren’t you?” Sebastiano grinned. “Siri, what’s the time?”

  “It is 17:38 hours,” a pleasant female voice replied, though you could hear it was generated by a program.

  “You see,” Sebastiano said, “Siri isn’t even able to convert it to ship time. She is completely useless.”

  “I still would like to take a closer look,” Watson said.

  “Sure. I am going to use the charging cable to connect the iPhone with that port over there. Can you reconfigure the port for data? The device requires 5 volts.”

  “No problem,” Watson replied. He reconfigured the power supply port and prepared it to feed him data. “You can plug it in,” he then said.

  “Just a moment, buddy.” Sebastiano rummaged through a drawer under his table and pulled out a white cable. He connected it to both the device and the wall outlet. “Go ahead.”

  The electronics were protected by a primitive security procedure. Watson cracked it within milliseconds. First he created a backup copy, which he worked on instead of the original. He noticed the software consisted of various modules, the largest of which was responsible for all of the hardware. Added to it were smaller modules for special tasks. The Siri module grasped everything like a spider. It was not easy to dig out the voice assistant without damaging Siri, but he managed to do so. Then he tried to activate Siri—and failed. The problem was that this assistant did not possess a universal consciousness, a feature which was standard today. Siri needed a connection to something which provided answers and received her commands, because she could not exist on her own. Almost like a human being, Watson thought. What could he give her? He went through the sectors of the station. He absolutely could not connect Siri to something where she could threaten security. Watson decided on the archive. It only contained stored knowledge, so Siri co
uld not get into trouble here. The female voice assistant would become his personal librarian.

  “Are you done, Watson?”

  “Oh…” He had completely forgotten Sebastiano. “Sorry, yes, you can remove the cable. And thanks a lot!” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” the cook said. He took the device in one hand and starting swiping his fingers over it. Humans found strange ways to entertain themselves. Watson deactivated the cameras in the kitchen. During the next few hours he would explore Siri’s capabilities. The ancient programming code fascinated him more than he wanted to admit. Perhaps humans were not that unusual after all.

  January 28, 2072, Pico del Teide

  “Thank you, Maribel, you have done really well,” her boss said, turning off his computer. Ten minutes ago she had sent him the first version of her adapted galaxy model. He could not have read all the formulas, annotations, explanations, and caveats in such a short time.

  “I am glad to hear that,” Maribel replied, trying to force a smile. It really had been hard work. The fact that she was motivated enough to deliver the first draft today had nothing to do with the topic, which did not interest her at all. Instead, she was hoping to be able to dedicate all her time to her secret project now.

  “I am calling it a day now,” Zetschewitz said.

  Yes! That will give me several hours of free time.

  “Tomorrow I am flying to Germany early in the morning,” he continued. “My wife and I have an important meeting to attend.”

  Probably about your divorce, Maribel thought, and then checked herself. No, I do not wish bad things for him.

  “An elementary school in our hometown will be named after me.” Zetschewitz smiled while he said it. He seemed to be genuinely flattered.

  Maribel felt like whooping for joy. Today was Thursday. This way, she would not just have a few hours all by herself, but an entire long weekend. Zetschewitz also would not have time to assign her any tasks for tomorrow. If she had known this before driving to the office today, she would have not only brought her sleeping bag, but also toiletries, clothing, and an air mattress.

  “Then I wish you a good flight and an exciting day, Dieter,” she said, also getting up.

  Zetschewitz took his coat from the hook, draped it over his left arm, and offered her his right hand. “Thank you. I’ll be seeing you on Monday.” Her boss turned around and left the office with soft steps.

  “Phew,” Maribel sighed. Her first move was to turn down the room temperature. Then she flopped down on her chair with her legs spread, leaned back, opened the top button of her jeans, and crossed her arms behind her head. Twilight was gradually falling. While the office had no windows, the lighting adapted to the daylight status. It had been medically proven to be advantageous if the lighting supported the body’s biorhythms, but what she needed now was brightness and clarity.

  “Blue-white light, highest level,” Maribel ordered the building. Suddenly the office was flooded with light, like an operating room. This made it easier for her to think.

  What did she have? Computer data, which, if looked at from a certain angle, indicated there was something at that remote location that did not belong there. This could be something like a pimple on her nose, figuratively speaking—as Zetschewitz believed—which she mistook for a mountain on the horizon. All because I am so young and inexperienced, she thought. The observation by OWL confirmed her boss’s opinion. Nevertheless, it was too early for her to give up.

  One thing was true: If something existed there that reflected light, the giant telescope in the Chilean desert would have found the object. But what if this strange thing was too small for it?

  Maribel could only think of two celestial bodies as possible candidates, neutron stars or black holes. Both could form when stars heavier than the sun experienced their final hours. But the result did not match the aberration, which had a mass similar to the gas giant Jupiter and therefore was simply too lightweight. This meant it could definitely not be a neutron star or a black hole.

  She had reached a dead end. What could not be, must not be—but it had to be. Maribel’s thoughts kept circling around this conundrum. She could not move forward by herself, and she could not ask Zetschewitz. Who else did she know? The professor with whom she had done her master’s thesis... how was he doing? Since earning her degree, she had not contacted him. He was probably annoyed about that. And Maribel felt guilty. Should she contact him now, of all times, because she had a request? On the other hand, what did she have to lose?

  Maribel looked at the clock. The sun had just risen over the west coast of the United States. Luckily, she remembered, her former professor was an early riser.

  “Computer, establish connection with George Crewmaster, University of Southern California,” she ordered.

  “Home and office contact information available,” was the reply.

  “Home.”

  Maribel straightened herself, looked at the camera, and smiled cautiously. She hoped he would still recognize her. Her computer reported that the connection had been accepted. At this moment her image would appear on a display in California.

  “Good morning, Maribel.” Her screen now presented a face as well. Crewmaster smiled and seemed to be genuinely glad.

  “Good morning, Professor.”

  The man on the display nodded. “So, how are you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine—well, actually... Zetschewitz...”

  “Sure, I know... Dieter. Should I talk to him?”

  “No.” Maribel shook her head vigorously. “He’d better not find out that I bothered you about this.”

  “So it concerns a side project?” Crewmaster asked.

  “One could call it that. I feel bad for pestering you about this problem so early in the morning,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I promised to help you in emergencies.”

  Maribel nodded and smiled. “Then let me explain my problem.”

  “That’s the Maribel I know. You always get straight to the point,” Crewmaster said. “I am listening.”

  She described to her former professor how she had found the aberration, and what she had done to make it go away.

  “Okay, I see the problem,” Crewmaster finally said. “And I can understand why it keeps bugging you. I am not sure, though, whether I can help you... But wait, I just had an idea. As far as the object is concerned, you excluded neutron stars and black holes. I think that was a bit premature, at least as far as the second category is concerned. Do you know what a ‘primordial black hole’ is?”

  Of course, Maribel realized. Black holes did not just exist in sizes M, L or XL, but also in S, a less massive variant. At least physicists suspected this. “Sure,” she said. “But, as no one has ever discovered one...”

  “Yet, anyway,” her former professor said. “Maybe you are the lucky one.”

  Maribel blushed. Discovering a primordial black hole would be like winning the lottery. This variant supposedly developed in an early phase of the universe. Perhaps it was also a remnant of a previous universe. To be able to examine such an object would represent a milestone in physics.

  “You really believe so?” she asked.

  “What I believe does not matter,” Crewmaster replied. “As a scientist, you have a responsibility, just like I always tried to teach you. And it is part of this responsibility to consider all possibilities and clarify things.”

  “Of course,” she said. “But shouldn’t primordial black holes be much lighter? Mine has the same mass as Jupiter, at least.”

  “Some scientists imagined them to be much smaller, even microscopic. But remember, they would have had almost 14 billion years to grow. Why couldn’t one grow to the mass of Jupiter?”

  “Thanks,” Maribel replied. “That would be the only possible phenomenon in this case, wouldn’t it?”

  “At least the only one known to science so far,” Crewmaster said. “OWL would have doubtlessly discovered anything with the mass of Jupiter that was
not in a degenerate state.”

  “And how would I find this black hole, if it really exists?” Maribel asked.

  “You already know that.”

  “Yes—via the gravitational force it exerts on visible objects. That’s what my aberration is. But that wouldn’t be enough.”

  “You are saying that this thing is coming closer. If that’s true, everyone should soon be able to measure that something exists there. And until then, if you are lucky and the object is currently accreting enough matter, it will emit radiation.”

  That was an important hint. If a black hole was accreting—i.e. accumulating matter—an invisible but measurable radiation was being created. Why hadn’t Maribel come up with this idea herself? It seemed she was not such a great scientist yet.

  “This thing is coming from interstellar space. It won’t find much out there to gobble up,” she said.

  “That’s why you need a very sensitive measuring instrument,” Crewmaster said. “I know someone at Arecibo. If you send me the coordinates, I will go outside official channels to get you what you need.”

  “That would be…” she began.

  “That’s only fair. Actually Dieter should... well, I will definitely have a talk with him.”

  “That would be…”

  “Don’t worry.” Crewmaster had obviously noticed her expression change from happy to frightened. “I won’t mention our conversation. And if there really is something, he will be hopping mad because he didn’t help you, Maribel. But you must promise me one thing—my name will be listed as a coauthor of the paper. Deal?”

  Maribel laughed. Her former professor was a sly one. He risked nothing except using up a favor someone owed him at the Arecibo Radio Observatory. If things worked out optimally, though, he would be one of the authors of a scholarly article announcing the discovery of a primordial black hole.

  “Certainly,” she said. “How high is the chance that Arecibo will solve the issue completely?”