Erik knew that the spaceship had such masks on board. He just couldn’t reach them because he couldn’t free himself from his seat, which was simply not realistic. Who would come up with such an idea? Weidel! he thought. That sadistic dog of an instructor, he would have thought of something like this. He had, after all, made them sleep outside in the rain during survival training. But to switch off his air supply, that was a whole new ballgame.
“Hello?” he shouted again.
No answer.
What if someone started up the exam and then something happened? Aliens attacked Earth, and here I am, alone in this spaceship simulator, perishing?
Erik, your imagination is going haywire. This is all part of the exam. If you react with panic in an emergency, you aren’t suited to be an astronaut.
How would the sensible Nuria have behaved at this point? She would have played along. What resources did the spaceship have to offer? The two AVs were strapped to the side wall. But he could only access them through the BCI, and that was lying somewhere in the cabinet. The AI lurked in the computer. Of course—the AI could help him. It had to help him!
“Watson?” he called out.
Erik was tense and curious. They had already completed some training sessions with the AI. The Watson series had become unpopular because it was considered to be emotionally unstable. This was undesirable in ordinary situations such as during asteroid mining. But the associated creativity was supposed to be a plus for research trips like theirs. So far, however, he had not found Watson to be particularly emotional.
“Yes, Erik?” the AI piped up.
“The oxygen level in the cabin,” he said in a strained voice.
“Cabin oxygen levels are dropping, and will reach levels that are no longer acceptable for human physiology in ten minutes. I suspect a leak and recommend a detailed diagnosis,” Watson replied.
His impression was correct—Watson was emotionless. He had just told him that he would die in 10 minutes if he did not solve the problem. Well, in 13 minutes. The brain supposedly could do without oxygen for three minutes. He certainly didn’t want to measure the exact timespan.
“What procedure do you recommend?” asked Erik, clenching his teeth.
“The leak detector is in Cabinet 7,” Watson explained.
“That’s great,” Erik said. “But I can’t get up. My arms are shackled.”
“I see that they’re bound to the seat by a belt buckle,” Watson replied.
“Can you do something about it?” Erik asked frantically.
“I’m sorry, I do not have a physical body. Should I get help? There are seven people about ten meters away.”
Great! Seven NASA personnel were watching his performance on this test. If he asked Watson to get help, he would survive, but would probably flunk the exam.
“No, I’ll solve the problem myself.”
“I understand,” Watson said.
Erik would have liked to know if that was just an empty phrase, or if the AI understood him as his mother would have understood him.
“How much time do I have left?” he asked.
“Seven minutes,” Watson replied.
Not bad. The AI had remembered the context of the question and assigned it correctly. But that was of no help. He would have to untie his primitive fetters and plug the leak.
The AVs. They were part of his resources. He was only able to control them with the brain-computer interface. But Watson dwelt within the computer—he did not need an interface.
“Watson, can you take over my AV?”
“With your authorization, yes.”
“I authorize you. Take over the AV and loosen the strap around my arms.”
“Just a moment.”
Erik observed the AV. He had never seen the machine come to life, because at that moment he had always been wearing the BCI, which used his brain impulses to control the AV. The machine opened its eyes. Its muscles twitched. He was able to observe how the Watson AI gradually took possession of its body. Currently the AV reminded him of a person in the REM stage of sleep. Consciousness was in the process of regaining control.
And what if Watson goes nuts now? Erik imagined the AI overtaking the body. “Freedom at last!” Watson would shout and run away, helter-skelter. “Boy, you watch too many science fiction movies,” Nuria would tell him at this point.
The AV freed itself from the wall and came toward him.
“It worked,” Watson said.
It sounded strange, because the voice came from the computer and not from the mouth of the AV. The machine itself did not have a speaker, since it was not necessary for their missions. Communication took place between the people who controlled the AVs.
“The strap,” Erik reminded him.
“Of course.”
The AV knelt elegantly. Watson had rapidly learned to control the system, something that had taken Erik weeks to do. Erik could not see what the AV was doing, but suddenly the belt around his arms loosened. He yanked the belt forward and groaned. The pain brought tears to his eyes, but he had no time to lose. He quickly undid the seat belt, stood up, and looked around.
“Where is Cabinet 7?”
Erik involuntarily addressed the question to the AV, who was still kneeling beside the seat.
“Immediately to the left of the airlock,” Watson answered via the computer.
Erik sprinted to the cabinet and hurriedly pulled open the door. The space was empty—except for an instrument that must be the leak detector. Breathing heavily, he took it out. It looked like a T. The roof of the letter had an opening at both ends. The device presumably measured pressure differences. He had not yet worked with it during training, but the way it functioned was obvious.
He switched it on by pushing a button on the base of the T. Lamps on both sides of its crossbar lit up. One was red and the other was green. He rotated the T by 180 degrees. The lamps exchanged their colors. He assumed that red was for lower pressure. He held the T in front of him and moved through the room.
The red light became brighter the lower he held the device and the closer he approached the corner to the left of the computer. Erik followed the trail until he reached a metal panel just above the floor. In its center was a sieve with several small holes. He moistened his index finger. There was a breeze. So this is where they were sucking away his air. The scoundrels!
He took off his T-shirt and tried to clog the holes, but the fabric did not seal them well enough. How else could he seal the holes? His palm was too small. He needed an elastic material, so he pulled down his pants and tried to seal the small holes with his bare butt, similar to something he’d seen in a movie, but in the film it had been a water leak. The NASA personnel were no doubt having fits of laughter. His rump became cold, but the pressure continued to fall.
Then he thought of the chewing gum that the porter at the entrance had offered him. Was the man in on the scheme? Very clever, he thought. He quickly chewed the stick of gum until it was soft. The substance was optimally suited for the small holes. It’s working! But there wasn’t enough chewing gum. A tiny hole was left over. He placed his finger on it and waited. The leak detector signaled that the pressure in the cabin was stabilizing. Had he won?
He removed his finger from the hole, and the air was sucked out again. If only he had asked for two pieces of chewing gum. Since he was not fond of gum, he was fortunate to have even accepted a single piece. The man had looked like he resented rejection. There must be another way? Of course. He put his finger in his nose—he’d discovered his sealant! He rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into the hole.
Success! Erik was proud of himself.
Suddenly the ship began to rotate about its longitudinal axis.
“Failure of position control,” Watson reported.
As if he had not noticed that himself! Erik rushed headlong back to his seat. If only weightlessness prevailed! But the simulation didn’t go that far. His stomach began to revolt. The seat had just been hanging
from the ceiling, and now it was coming toward him. Erik dared to make a courageous jump. He hit the hard backrest with his lower leg and yelped with pain. Then he grabbed the strap and held on tight. The seat was once again revolving upward. He was hanging onto the belt. When the seat was in the lower quadrant, he quickly swung into it and closed the clasps.
Whew. Now he was safe, but the problem had not been solved. Erik closed his eyes for a brief moment, but that wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the center of the axis of rotation. The point that remained stationary during the rotation lay directly above the screen.
“Watson, what’s wrong?”
The AI didn’t answer. Well, that would have been too easy. He reached for the manual controls. The ship was rotating in a clockwise direction—he needed to counter that with the starboard correction jets. He shifted the small lever on the right armrest a little forward. Nothing happened. Erik increased the thrust—it had no effect.
Dammit. The starboard correction jets must have malfunctioned. What about the portside jets?
He manipulated the left armrest and activated those jets. The rotation accelerated. Good, at least the jets are working. He could correct for the fact that they pushed in the wrong direction. He must turn the ship 180 degrees on its transverse axis. Erik laughed. It would probably not be possible in the simulation. He started up the correction jet on the bow. Then the ship began to tilt. A transverse turn had been added to the longitudinal rotation. His last meal tried to escape through his esophagus.
He swallowed and sensed a sour taste in his mouth. At that point he was almost standing in his seat, and then the entire ship leaned further forward. The simulator could perform a transverse-rotation after all! He turned off the bow jet and activated the tail jet. If he adhered to the correct timing and force, the ship would stop rotating when it was lying on its back. It was not pleasant. He was hanging down from the ceiling, only held in place by the straps. But at least the portside jets were pushing in the right direction! He accelerated a little. The rotation of the ship stopped. He had almost made it! Another 180 degrees, then the spaceship would be right side up again. He breathed in and out deeply.
“What can I do for you?” Watson suddenly asked.
Well, thanks a lot. But it was not the AI’s fault. The instructors had obviously deactivated it at the crucial moment.
“A little music would be nice,” he replied.
“What about Richard Strauss’s introduction to ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra?’”
“As you wish.”
Watson seems to have an exclusive taste, he thought. No, he has a sense of humor, he noted, as the first bars sounded. What else will the trainers have to offer?
Joe Weidel was the first person to extend his hand. “Congratulations, Erik. I knew you could do it,” the instructor said.
You asshole, Erik thought, but he could not remain angry with him. The man was smiling so warmly that Erik found his gladness credible. “Thanks, Joe,” he said.
“You’ve accomplished the last step toward becoming an astronaut,” declared a woman in a gray outfit adorned with NASA badges. She probably belonged to the HR department. Her face looked familiar to Erik. Was this the woman who had attended the first interviews, but never said anything?
“I’m Mary Shoemaker, your mission planner,” she said, introducing herself. “Whatever mission you are to conduct on Venus, it will have crossed my desk. I came up with the tasks that were on your exam. You have to excuse me, but we need only the best up there. Venus doesn’t forgive mistakes.”
“Of course, ma’am. I thought it was a lot of fun.” Erik was surprised at how easily the lie escaped his lips. He apologized in his mind to Weidel.
“How you sealed the leak will go down in NASA lore,” Nuria said, laughing.
He only noticed her now. Had she already finished? She undoubtedly completed the exam in less time than he did. “Were you watching me the whole time?” he asked.
“No, I just got out ten minutes ago, and I was curious to see how you dealt with the problem.”
“And how did you solve it?”
“After Watson told me that there were seven people within reach, I asked for help.”
“And they let you get away with that? Isn’t that cheating?”
“No, Erik,” explained the mission planner. “It’s important that you use all identifiable resources in an emergency. It was my mistake that Watson had access to the environmental sensors. Incorporating existing information into the equation is part of an efficient winning strategy.”
“Then my approach was inefficient?”
“It was effective, and that’s what matters most in the end. I think you will make a good team,” Shoemaker declared.
Erik heard loud knocking. The door opened, and Colonel Massey entered, at which point the room seemed much smaller. “I’ve just come from the selection committee,” he said.
“So soon? They’re really in a hurry.”
“We met during the simulation, of course,” Massey explained. “But the results are indisputable. The other two did not stand a chance. I would like to congratulate you.”
Nuria grinned broadly. Her joy was palpable.
But what did Massey just say? The other two? He had to inquire. “Uh, Sir, what did you just say?”
“Well, there were two other candidates. Their performance was much worse than yours.”
“But—”
“Why weren’t you informed? Well, we didn’t want to create a situation fostering unproductive competition. You should prove yourselves to us, not by competing against two others, but against your inner selves.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore now, Erik,” Nuria said. “We’re on our way to Venus. Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Congratulations again,” Massey said. “Tomorrow you will meet your two colleagues, both experienced astronauts.”
February 11, 2079, Van Horn
Erik looked out of the self-driving taxi’s window. They had been riding for almost two hours through a mostly flat area, prairie alternating with desert. The towns along the road consisted of wooden bungalows that had seen better days. He could hardly believe that this was where one of America’s newest spaceports was located.
“We have booked you a flight on the New Shepard 3,” Colonel Massey had said—that, and nothing more.
Erik knew everything about the spaceship that would take them to Venus, but how they were to get on board had not been part of the training. And why would it be, after all? For a long time now, the trip from the Earth’s surface to orbit had become a routine journey. Freight, tourists, and experiments were brought cheaply into space by private companies. Erik didn’t even know all their names.
West Texas was home to Blue Origin. Erik knew that the owner of a large corporation had founded it, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. He also didn’t know the performance data of the rocket that would bring them into space. It was irrelevant. The thing had flown many times. They would reach the ship going to Venus. That was all that mattered.
Nuria’s head fell on his shoulder. She snored softly. He was tempted to brush a strand of hair from her face but feared she might notice and misinterpret it. Nuria had made it clear to him early on that she definitely did not want more than a friendly relationship. She was always very good at explicitly stating what she wanted.
Erik lacked this ability. For that, he would, after all, first have to know what his goals were. He considered it a minor miracle that he was accepted as an ASCAN after the psychological testing. But it was supposedly also about harmony within the crew, and that would perhaps have been endangered with two Nuria personalities. Obviously, they had also beaten out the other team of two. Erik was proud of that.
Once again he was overthinking. Erik turned his head to the window and took in the landscape. One could supposedly only genuinely appreciate the Earth after a long space flight. They would be traveling for almost a year. He could not imagine longing for the semi-desert o
f Texas. The forests, lakes, and meadows of his Norwegian homeland, he would miss them. But this?
How did Nuria feel about being away from Earth for so long? Erik had never been to the Arabian Peninsula, her native land. She once told him that she came to the United States at the age of three, because her father had found a job in the oil industry. Presumably, she no longer remembered the Arabian Desert. It was also sort of typical for this country that NASA chose the two of them, out of all possible people, for this mission, individuals whose roots lay so far away.
The landscape was changing and becoming hillier. I-10, on which they had been riding since El Paso, was a typical interstate highway, divided and having two lanes in each direction.
They passed a town sign. “Van Horn,” Erik read. If he remembered correctly, they would soon be at their destination. “How much further?” he asked.
“Fifteen point two kilometers,” the taxi replied in a female voice. “Should I convert the distance to miles?”
“No thanks,” he replied.
The taxi remained silent, but Nuria raised her head and opened her eyes. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his jacket sleeve. “Oh, excuse me, I drooled on you a little,” she said, pulling a handkerchief out of her pants pocket and rubbing it on the fabric.
“No problem. The jacket stays here anyway. Maybe I’ll return the favor when we launch.”
“You never threw up during training,” Nuria commented.
That was true. But he had often been close to it. However, he had not disclosed that to anyone. That would not have been effective. Or efficient? He always confused the two terms.
“I’m curious about our two colleagues,” he said.
“They are supposed to be experienced NASA guys,” Nuria said. She knew how to extract information from people. “Massey told me so.”
The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction Page 5
