Arik prepared four more borosilicate tubes. He sent three of them home with Cadie and kept one for himself. Subha was aware that Arik and Cadie had been putting in long hours, and, sensing they must be nearing a discovery, had started extending her workdays, as well. She accepted Arik's connection request almost instantly, and he could hear the anticipation in her voice when she agreed to meet him in the dome.
Before he left his lab, Arik stopped the computer simulation, deleted the program, and permanently erased every piece of data it had produced and recorded.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Slopes
Cadie and Arik had an early dinner, and probably for the first time since the day they were married, went to bed at the same time and without opening their workspaces. Arik told Cadie that everything had gone well with Subha, and that the assembly would happen on schedule. He knew that Cadie wanted to ask him about the things he'd said on the maglev, but she didn't. They dimmed the wall lights and talked about Haná instead, about what projects they might work on next, about really needing to reconnect with Cam and Zaire, and frankly with each other, as well. And then they just laid beside each other in the warm glow of the walls and didn't talk at all.
Before they turned the lights all the way down, Cadie brought Arik a sedative. She told him he needed to get back on a regular sleep schedule, that she couldn't stand seeing him so exhausted and frail. A few minutes after he swallowed the pill, he started to say something about his lips and nose feeling numb, but was asleep before he could finish the thought.
He was awakened by a feeling of pressure in his abdomen which turned into a severe, stabbing pain when he moved. He'd been asleep for almost eleven hours, and Cadie was gone. He put his feet on the floor and pushed himself up, clutching his stomach with one hand and steadying himself against the bed with the other. His clothes were damp with perspiration and he was shivering. He wiped his nose and saw blood on the back of his hand, and when he got to the bathroom, he found he was bleeding from the inside, as well.
The latency period was over. The cells of his digestive tract were dying and he was shedding dead intestinal tissue. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat again until he was treated, and that the biggest risk over the next 48 hours was dehydration and shock from a water-electrolyte imbalance. Since his body was gradually losing its ability to absorb nutrients, he knew he would eventually need to take in fluids intravenously, but for the next two days, he needed to find ways to keep himself alive with whatever he had.
If he could figure out how much radiation he'd been exposed to, he would have a better idea of what to expect and how he might be able to treat himself, but since he hadn't worn a radiation badge, there was no way to know. At least there was no obvious way. In Arik's experience, there was almost always a way to recover lost information, to calculate a missing piece of data, to derive whatever you didn't know from whatever it was that you did. One of Arik's core beliefs was that the inability to solve most problems was ultimately due to a failure of the imagination.
He could have tested his clothing or a piece of his equipment, but he had sealed everything up in lead-lined pouches and dropped them down the hazardous waste chute in the Wrench Pod. If he could get a sensor outside now, he might be able to estimate what his exposure had been, but going back to the Wrench Pod before ensuring it was empty was far too risky. He thought about trying to get a reading off the robotic rover, but it would have been fully decontaminated in the airlock before being allowed back inside. With Cadie's help, it would probably be possible to estimate his exposure based on the rate at which his cells were dying, but he doubted they had the time to gather enough data to identify a meaningful trend. And the less she knew about his condition, the better.
Searching for a way to extrapolate a missing piece of data was sometimes like searching for your glasses. It often took the exercise of retracing your steps before finally reaching up and finding that they had been perched on your head all along. It suddenly occurred to Arik that Malyshka would have picked up radiation levels as part of her atmospheric analysis during the second part of her mission. Arik had downloaded the data after getting back from the ERP, but before he had a chance to examine the results, he began to experience the onset of radiation sickness. The information he needed had been right in front of him all along.
Arik sat in his office and brought up his workspace. He had a message from Cadie, but he didn't open it. All of Malyshka's data was in a raw binary format which Arik would need to process into some sort of visualization before he could make any sense of it. He opened up his code editor and began working on a simple script to parse the file and plot the results.
The charts were rendered in a virtual stack on his workspace, and Arik began flipping through them. Although he was looking for detailed radiation data, the slopes of the lines in the atmospheric composition overview made him pause. The chart plotted parts per million by volume against distance using the outer airlock door as one reference point, and a point a few meters out from the Public Pod wall as the other. The carbon dioxide, methane, nitrogen, and oxygen lines were flat for most of the rover's journey. Carbon dioxide was at the top showing about 780,000 ppm, or about 78% of the atmosphere, with only trace levels of oxygen at the bottom of the chart. But about 12 meters out from the Public Pod wall, the lines suddenly crossed as CO2 and methane fell while nitrogen and oxygen rose. Since Arik had programmed the rover to stop several meters out from the Public Pod wall, the chart wasn't complete, however the visualization software was able to extrapolate the missing data points by finding trends in the data it did have. At zero meters from the wall, the computer estimated the atmospheric composition to be about 70% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, 10% carbon dioxide, and the remainder divided up among methane, argon, helium, and hydrogen. If the computer was right, there was an area of a few square meters outside of V1 where the air was theoretically breathable. Radiation was obviously still a problem, but radioactive material decayed over time, and with the proper motivation, could easily be contained.
The same environment that was now gradually killing Arik was also giving life to his work far beyond anything he had hoped for.
He felt like he needed visual confirmation. On a rational level, he already knew what was out there, but he needed to witness it for himself, to touch it, to maybe even remove his helmet and breath it in. Just the visualization of the data was stunning — the thin lines running stubbornly parallel, then abruptly crossing, leaping and plummeting and trending toward unmistakable signs of life — but he needed to see the miracle of what was out there with his own eyes, to attend what only Malyshka had witnessed, to know for certain that everyone who had ever told him that something was impossible was wrong.
But he could feel himself getting sicker, dying one cell at a time, and he knew that if he still intended to make the rendezvous, he needed to better understand his condition. He scrolled forward through the charts until he got to one plotting radiation levels against time. The single line on the graph had a constant positive slope indicating, as he expected, a steady increase in radiation levels the longer Malyshka was outside. Arik converted the units on the y axis from millirems to rems, and was startled to see that Malyshka had been exposed to a dose of radiation sufficient to kill, within about a day, any human being who didn't have the equipment or genetic disposition to resist it. But Malyshka had been outside for almost two hours while Arik had only been exposed for a total of approximately 40 minutes. He zoomed in on the 40 minute hash mark on the x axis and plotted a point directly above it on the line. The y coordinate showed exactly 1,200 rems — at least 200 rems above what was considered fatal.
Arik checked his work, re-extracted the radiation numbers from the raw binary data, then re-rendered the chart. The results were the same. From the research he had done, for exposure above 1,000 rems, death was considered imminent. The only treatment was pain therapy. There was nothing anyone could do but make the patient as comfortable as possible while his cells m
utated and died, while he waited and prayed for the relief and peace of a coma, while he gradually disintegrated and bled to death from the inside out.
But there was one piece of data that still had to be factored in: dose fractionation. Although Arik had been exposed for 40 minutes total, it wasn't 40 consecutive minutes. He'd spent close to an hour inside the ERP, and had probably been at least partially decontaminated in the ERP's airlock. Since his dose had been fractionated, his cells would have had time to repair some of the damage to their DNA. Although he didn't have exact figures, with reasonably close estimates, he believed he could use a fractionation formula to determine whether or not he really was a walking ghost.
Arik found a formula and composed the correct equation, but he stopped before evaluating it. He looked at the string of variables and constants, his mind automatically solving and reducing, but he looked away before it was done. Even though he could calculate a concrete number, he knew it wouldn't be any better than a guess. There was no practical way for him to know exactly how long he had been outside, exactly how much time he spent in the ERP, exactly how complete the airlock's decontamination process had been, exactly the rate at which his cells were capable of repairing themselves. He didn't even know for sure if he had been exposed to the same levels of radiation as Malyshka since they had been close to a kilometer apart. If the numbers were on the high side, he knew he could find a way to adjust the inputs to yield more favorable results. If they were on the low side, he would be left wondering if any of his estimates were overly optimistic. The data was bad. Regardless of where the numbers fell, he would not be able to trust them.
But that's not what ultimately stopped him from doing the calculation. Arik decided to leave the problem unsolved not because the answer might be wrong, but because it didn't matter anymore. The plan had already changed. Arik knew that what he had to do now was bigger than himself, and more important than his own life. In 48 hours, it wouldn't matter anymore whether he lived or died. His influence would instantly diverge from the confines of his own limited existence, and the future would no longer be up to him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Impossible
Subha wore a long purple and gold sari that covered one shoulder and sparkled in the sunlight. Arik was helping her get set up to broadcast from inside the dome. She was holding one of Arik's sealed and shrouded borosilicate tubes, and there was another down by the nutrient tank as a backup. Subha put her hand on Arik's arm and he stopped. She asked him if he was ok. She said they could postpone, that everyone would understand. Arik told her that he looked much worse than he felt, and that there was nothing he wanted more than to see this through. It was just the remnants of a virus. He had already seen Dr. Nguyen, and there was nothing to worry about. She looked at him carefully through his tinted goggles. The blood vessels in his eyes had started to burst, staining the white parts bright red, and his pupils where fully dilated from stimulants. He badly needed to vomit, but the anti-nausea medication was holding it back.
They wished each other luck, and Arik left the dome. He took off his goggles and stopped by his office briefly on the way out. Outside the Life Pod, the maglev was waiting to take him to the Public Pod, but he took it in the opposite direction instead.
The Wrench Pod was deserted, as Arik expected. The lighting was minimal, and it was so quiet that Arik could hear the air circulation system above him as he walked through the shop toward the dock. He didn't see anyone through the archway in the back of the room, and it seemed too quiet. There were no footsteps ringing out against the metal grate, no tiny ticks and pings from equipment being locked into place. It occurred to him for the first time that Cadie, Cam, and Zaire might not be there. Arik believed that he had made an impression on them on the maglev ten days ago, but there was really no way for him to know if they had taken him seriously or not. Cam might have talked Zaire out of blindly trusting Arik, and of course there was no way Cadie could get outside V1 without their help. Since Arik had made it clear that all of them were to go together, just one of them having second thoughts would have been enough to end it all.
But when he stepped through the archway, he saw three figures in environment suits standing in front of the row of lockers. Cadie was fully suited up, and Cam and Zaire were only missing their helmets and gloves. Zaire was behind Cadie, inspecting her cartridge port, and Cam was making sure her helmet was properly threaded and locked. Cadie's suit was much too big for her, completely swallowing the bulge in the middle.
"What are you doing here?" Cam said. He looked at his watch which he'd strapped on over his environment suit. "Shouldn't you be presenting?"
Arik could tell from Cam's tone and expression that he was still skeptical, that there was no way he would be there if Zaire and possibly Cadie hadn't insisted, that some part of him resented Arik for abusing their friendship and forcing him into this.
"I'm on my way. I just stopped by to give you this."
Arik offered Cam a hand-held laser projector. The handle and trigger were large enough that the device could be operated while wearing gloves. Cam looked down at Arik's hand before accepting it.
"What is this?"
"Instructions for what to do while you wait for me. Once you get out to the door, look into the optics and hold this down. It'll project an inverted image onto your visor which you'll be able to read from the inside."
Zaire had stepped out from behind Cadie. "Why don't you come with us now? There's nobody here. Your distraction worked."
"There wouldn't be enough time. If I don't show up at the Public Pod in the next few minutes, they'll start looking."
"Here's your locker," Cam said. "Number eleven. Everything you need is inside. I put tape over the latch to keep it from locking."
"Tape? Another high-tech Wrench Pod solution, I see."
"I trust tape more than I trust an electron computer." Cam looked at Arik's eyes. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
"I look a lot worse than I feel." He looked at Cadie. "Does she have audio drops?"
"Yes, she can hear you."
Arik turned toward his wife. "You don't have anything to worry about," he told her. "Everything will make sense very soon. I promise."
Cadie nodded inside her helmet. He saw her say that she loved him.
"I love you, too," Arik said. "Both of you." He put his hand on her belly and tried to feel the baby through the layers of microfiber, and she covered his hand with her glove. He could see that she was crying. "There's no reason to cry. This is a good thing. I promise. I'll see you very soon."
Arik turned to Cam before he left.
"Take good care of her," he said. "No matter what happens out there. Don't ever leave her."
He could see a flash of confusion in Cam's eyes — a question forming on his lips — but Arik was gone before his friend could stop him.
* * *
A ping notification appeared on a nearby piece of polymeth as he walked through the shop. He waited until he was close to the door and accepted only the audio portion of the connection.
"Arik? Where are you? We're ready to start." It was the women from the Juice Pod who had coordinated the event. She sounded irritated.
Arik leaned against the wall and tried to slow his breathing before he answered. "Go ahead and get started. I just left the dome. I'll be there in five minutes."
He closed the stream before she could respond.
He was able to rest on the maglev, but it wasn't enough. It occurred to him that he should have given Cadie the laser projector the night before to give to Cam in order to save himself the trip to the Wrench Pod. He was much weaker than he thought he would be, and he even questioned whether he would be able to climb the stairs up to the stage. He needed another stimulant, but there wasn't time for it to take effect.
As he stood outside the Public Pod and caught his breath, he was aware of his skin pulling tight against his ribs, and of the slack elastic of his pants hanging from his hip bones. He had
n't eaten in two days, and he had been shedding increasing amounts of blood. He'd tried drinking water, but even when the anti-nausea medication kept him from vomiting it back up, his body wouldn't absorb it. The blood vessels in his arms had constricted and receded to the point where he didn't think they would accept an IV needle anymore, and the dehydration had caused oppressive and pounding headaches which he used double and triple doses of painkillers to control. The taste of iron was always in his mouth from raw bleeding gums and cracked lips.
When he opened the Public Pod door, he saw a huge image of Subha on the polymeth above the stage. The lights were down, and Kelley was standing next to the podium below her, looking up. The borosilicate tube she was holding was still shrouded.
"—typically a one-to-one ratio, meaning six molecules of carbon dioxide will yield six oxygen molecules. The process also requires twelve molecules of water with half of those recovered as a byproduct. That's what it took evolution 1.2 billion years to do. And this is what we were able to do in just a few months."
She removed the shroud and presented the tube. The absorption disk began to turn blue in the sunlight, and the oximeter immediately began to move.
"Our version of photosynthesis yields exactly twice as much oxygen as natural photosynthesis, requires only six molecules of hydrogen, no water whatsoever, and needs half the number of photons. I think it's safe to say," Subha said, pausing for effect and smiling self-assuredly, "that we have thoroughly outdone mother nature."
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