The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

Of course, it was also possible that his telescope was simply deceiving him. When he looked into the eyepiece, he didn’t see through the lenses and mirrors into space. He looked at a small screen that showed him everything that a very light-sensitive photo chip at the end of the beam path captured, and only after the image had been processed electronically.

  Errors—artifacts—could creep in. The system reacted to inputs that did not meet its expectations by displaying inexplicable results. Sometimes objects displayed color fringes that were not there in reality, or there was background noise that had no basis in reality. But that whole stars should become undetectable?

  Peter switched off the telescope. It moved, humming until it reached the safety position, pointed directly upward. Its resting state was something he always found amusing. If people rested in such a position, how different the world would look. Instead of beds, for instance, there might be something like sleeping vases that would hold their resting bodies.

  What had happened to the e-mail he’d sent to the telescope’s manufacturer? The automatic reply had promised a response by Monday... three days ago.

  He looked at the smartphone screen, but there were no new emails. The only notification was on the telescope app icon, where a symbol indicated an update he decided could wait until tomorrow. He put the smartphone in his pocket, folded up the music stand, and clamped it under an arm. Then he lifted the telescope by the central joint of the tripod and carried both of them into the house, taking them straight into the living room.

  His blanket and pillow were already lying on the sofa. Franziska had prepared everything. He thought of her with a warm feeling.

  19 41 48.95 +50 31 30.22

  Jurer ner gur fbatf bs Fcevat? Nl, jurer ner gurl? Guvax abg bs gurz, gubh unfg gul zhfvp gbb,- Juvyr oneerq pybhqf oybbz gur fbsg-qlvat qnl, Naq gbhpu gur fghooyr-cynvaf jvgu ebfl uhr;

  February 27, 2026 – Passau

  “Dear Mr. Kramer,” the e-mail began.

  Good, at least they hadn’t decided he was a huckster.

  “Thank you for your message, and your patience that we are only responding to you today.”

  Peter had just begun to wonder about it a few minutes earlier, and then the message showed up in his inbox.

  “We do have some good news for you, though. We were able to understand the problem you described.”

  That was great! Finally, confirmation that he was not making this all up. The company had gifted a few thousand telescopes of this type to amateur astronomers. If they asked everyone to use them to search for missing stars now, they’d get a big chunk of the cosmic neighborhood grazed in a short time.

  “Our programmers have tracked down the error. The wayfinding algorithm was probably too intolerant of the input parameters at some points and then maneuvered itself into a dead end. Please download the latest version of our app, which has been available since midnight. With it, the errors you discovered should no longer occur. Thank you...”

  He closed the message. So all this was supposed to have been nothing more than a software error? He’d seen that Sigma Draconis and 47 Ursae Majoris were missing... No, he hadn’t seen anything! That was the problem. He had no comprehension of how the software that analyzed the photo chip data worked. Maybe for some stupid reason it had shown only a black spot where each of the two stars shone.

  But the manufacturer had assured him that their programming staff had solved the problem with the update. Peter picked up his smartphone and pressed the button that updated all the programs. Just then, Franziska called out from the kitchen. Shoot, he’d forgotten that she was in a video conference with her students right now. Fortunately, the download bar filled up quickly, and after two minutes his wife stopped complaining. He started the telescope app. Externally, everything looked the same as before.

  It was still light outside.

  “Alexa, what time does the sun set today?”

  “Sunset today is at 5:53 p.m.”

  That was more than two hours away. The weather was clear, but it wouldn’t be really dark until 7 pm. The movie for which he had already reserved tickets started an hour later. You had to be there 15 minutes before it started or your tickets could be sold to someone else.

  Today was Friday, and the cinema was tiny. Even in a town the size of Passau, there were enough people interested in Latin American films. That meant they needed to allow about 30 minutes, because it would take them 15 minutes to get into town and find a parking space. He had to convince Franziska that they had to be eating dinner by 6 p.m.

  “So, are you making any progress with your stars?” Franziska asked as she was smearing a thin layer of margarine on a slice of bread.

  She had—surprisingly—been very much in favor of eating by 6 pm. That was said to be much healthier anyway, and he wondered why they couldn’t keep that as their usual dinnertime.

  Peter bent down, picked up the stack of papers, and waved them around. “The list is still pretty extensive,” he said.

  “Very impressive. What are you trying to prove with that?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Of course, my darling. You’re interested in my watercolors, too, aren’t you?”

  Was that meant seriously or cynically? If only he were better at telling the differences in her inflection! But it was true—he was interested in her watercolors. He’d even accompanied her once on a painting trip to Lake Garda.

  “The problem is that some stars have disappeared,” he explained.

  “Which ones?” asked Franziska.

  “Alsafi and Chalawan.”

  “I don’t know them, but what beautiful names! It would be a real shame to lose them.”

  “Alsafi comes from Arabic, Chalawan from Thai.”

  “Interesting. And how did you come up with this? Surely it must be noticeable if stars are missing from the sky?”

  “Apparently it’s not noticeable unless someone is looking. I just happened to stumble across Alsafi because the telescope couldn’t find its way to another target. After that, I tracked down Chalawan myself. By using this long list.”

  “It sounds like it’s a pretty important discovery.”

  “Yes. If I’m right, it would be a sensation. Stars don’t just disappear like that. They may explode, but after that, you see them all the better.”

  “Hey, then you’ll be famous.”

  Peter laughed. “That’s not my goal.”

  That was a lie, and Franziska knew it. Of course, it would be great if he could claim such a discovery for himself.

  His wife smiled. “You’re all about the research.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I have to go back in a minute...”

  He looked at the clock. It was shortly before 7, and 30 minutes should be enough. The telescope was already outside.

  Franziska was no longer smiling. “Uh, you want to... Now?”

  “Just very briefly. It won’t take thirty minutes. We can leave on time. Look, I’m already changed, too. You still have to get ready anyway.”

  She looked at him skeptically.

  “I’ll clear the table, too. You take care of your beauty. Not that you need to.”

  A compliment never hurt. Clearing the table may cost him five valuable minutes, but if it made his wife feel gracious toward him...

  “Yeah, yeah, you suck-up,” Franziska teased. “But, we better not be late for the movie.”

  The telescope beeped, then started moving. Peter aimed it for IC 342, ‘The Hidden Galaxy.’ There was no error message. After two minutes, the telescope reached its destination. He convinced himself that a barred spiral galaxy was really visible. The manufacturer had eliminated the error. But what did that mean for Sigma Draconis, which was on the way to IC 342?

  He had to check. The list with the coordinates was in the house. Peter snuck into the hallway, but Franziska heard him. “Ah, you’re done,” she said.

  “Not quite yet. Just need to check something.”

  Before she could answ
er, he took the list from the shelf and ran outside. He’d already entered the coordinates of Sigma Draconis on the way to the telescope, The device started moving, and a short time later the tracking app reported success. He looked through the eyepiece, but there was nothing there. A few stars twinkled nearby, but there was only darkness in the center of the subject field.

  What if he’d somehow misaligned the telescope? He tried 47 Ursae Majoris. The motors of the telescope hummed again.

  Franziska shouted something from inside, but he couldn’t understand her.

  “Be right there!”

  The telescope stopped. He hesitated. Please, show me a star. Any star. Peter sensed it—this was now a defining moment. It would be best if he walked away from the telescope and spent a pleasant evening with Franziska. But he couldn’t. The eyepiece magically attracted him. He had to look through it. What could go wrong? Just one look!

  Peter bent down a bit. 47 Ursae Majoris was relatively high in the sky, so the eyepiece had moved down. He tightly closed the eye with which he wanted to look and then opened it again.

  47 Ursae Majoris was still missing! It was not an error in the telescope. Then what had the manufacturer corrected? Peter entered IC 342 as the new target, held his hand over the lens, and started tracking. The telescope started moving, and after two minutes it had tracked the galaxy, even though it had only seen the palm of his hand the whole time. The programmers must have just hard-coded the position of IC 342 into the tracking app! As a result, the fact that the star was missing no longer interfered with the search for it. That was the only explanation. Those damned idiots! And it was so easy to check! Peter chose another galaxy for good luck.

  At that moment, a door slammed. The muffled sound was followed by a metallic noise that must have been the outer door as it banged shut. A shadow moved along the wall of the house. Heels clacked on the path’s flagstones. Peter stood rigid and silent. He knew he should have dropped everything and run after Franziska, or at least he ought to shout something to her. Wait, I’ll be right there—something like that.

  But he couldn’t do it. He still needed the proof! Surely his wife could appreciate that? Shortly afterward, the garage door squeaked. An engine howled. Wheels rolled along the gravel driveway. Individual scent molecules of Franziska’s perfume reached his nose.

  Peter wiped his forehead. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, as if his body couldn’t make up its mind. Slowly, he bent over the telescope. “We’re alone now, just the two of us,” he whispered. The device did not respond.

  Using the app, he restarted the tracking, once again placing a hand over the lens. This time there was an error message almost immediately. Lazy programmers. Of course, that was one way to eliminate problems!

  He heaved a deep sigh, and a cloud of steam poured out of his nose as if it were the snout of a dragon. It must already be very cold. Peter opened his list. The fact that Franziska had opted to go alone had its good side. He could continue to search for missing stars in peace.

  The next time he looked at his watch, it was half past one. So late already! But he had first period tomorrow! Nonsense. Tomorrow was Saturday. That was why they had reserved this evening for the cinema. The film ran for three hours, and afterward there had been a discussion with the director. But still, Franziska should have returned by now. Where was she?

  His toes were stiff from the cold, and stomping his feet wasn’t helping anymore. He should pack it in for today. With the app’s help, he sent the telescope into its parked position, then carried it into the house. Should he wait up for Franziska? Better not. If he had to have a discussion with her tonight he wouldn’t be able to sleep afterward. It would certainly not be a pleasant conversation. She would call him an egoist incapable of having a relationship, which he couldn’t stand for. Stop. He mustn’t imagine the ‘conversation’ now. Otherwise he could simply forget about sleep.

  Peter gave way to a yawn as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. As he watched his reflection, he noticed that he hadn’t shaved for at least three days. He should make up for it tomorrow morning. Today, he corrected himself. He yawned again. He felt sorry for Franziska’s toothbrush. It was all dry in the jar, so he ran water over it. He turned up the heat so that it would be nice and warm when he got up in the morning, then left the bathroom. In the bedroom, he closed the window, which Franziska open despite the cold, and lay down on his side of the bed.

  February 28, 2026 – Passau

  Franziska did not return until Peter was sitting at the breakfast table. She looked cheerful, and that surprised and scared him. At any moment she would tell him that she’d met someone younger, more handsome, and much better at sex, with whom she would spend the rest of her life. I’ve seen too many bad movies. It’s nice that she’s doing well! he thought.

  “Do you have a roll for me, too?” she asked from the hallway.

  “I do.” He had baked two rolls for himself. Franziska could have one.

  “It’s nice of you to think of me,” she said, entering the kitchen. Franziska’s hair was messy by her standards. She was wearing a blouse he didn’t recognize and giving off a slight odor of stale smoke.

  “The blouse...” he said.

  “Oh, you noticed? I didn’t think you would. Greta lent it to me.” Greta Bouvier was one of her friends.

  “Did you meet her somewhere?”

  “Yes, at the theater—not entirely surprising. She knows God and the world, after all. And then we hung out with the director and the distributor for a long time.”

  “Oh. Was it an interesting time?”

  “The director is Colombian. He wanted to go out dancing, so we went to the bar behind City Hall. They always play salsa there on Fridays.”

  “Since when is it okay to smoke there?”

  “Yes, the smoke. I wasn’t able to take a shower this morning. Greta is having her bathroom renovated. The bar closed at one o’clock, so we went to her place. That was fun, I can tell you! In the process, the contents of a glass of red wine landed on my blouse. Luckily, Greta and I wear the same size. After that, I couldn’t drive home, of course.”

  “Sure. And then you all spent the night at Greta’s?”

  “Couldn’t be helped. Greta and I in her bed, the two men in the living room.”

  “You could have taken a cab.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. You need your sleep, too.”

  “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “No, why? Should I be? The evening wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun with you. I wouldn’t have met José, or the man from the distribution firm.”

  “That one doesn’t seem to have been as memorable.”

  Franziska laughed. “You’re right about that. His name... I don’t know... I can’t remember it.”

  “Anyway, I’m glad you had such a nice evening.”

  “You sound a little pissed that I had fun without you.”

  Did he sound like that? No, it was great that she had so much more fun without him.

  “No, not at all. I’m quite pleased,” Peter said.

  “That’s good. Have you made any progress with your stars?” Franziska asked.

  “Yes, I’ve already checked off a third of the list.”

  “So, found anything?”

  “Not so far, so I’m going to stay with the two missing ones for now.”

  “And you’re going to keep at it?”

  “Of course. Scientifically, this is a sensation.”

  “So you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. How many nights?”

  “I don’t know yet, honey. But don’t worry, I’m taking tonight and tomorrow off.”

  In fact, the weather forecast predicted rain first and then fog moving in. But if he gave that as the reason for why he had time tonight, Franziska wouldn’t be happy.

  “That’s fine, Peter. I’m going to meet Greta again this evening. I’m sure you need some time for yourself. Haven’t you wanted to call your friend Manfred for a
long time?”

  That was true. He just hadn’t gotten around to it. But in reality, the call would probably be over inside of three minutes.

  “What are you planning to do? I could be the driver. Then you could have your drinks without having to spend the night at Greta’s. You hate sleeping in strange beds.”

  Greta did not like him. She claimed they couldn’t hold a decent conversation, but he didn’t think that was necessarily true.

  “Oh, come on, you’re better off getting some rest. José asked us if we’d like to show him a bit of Munich nightlife. It’s going to be very late. He had a showing in a Munich movie theater once before.”

  Franziska had said she was going to go out with Greta, but it turned out that the Colombian director was behind it after all. Of course, that was because he was such an interesting person. He must have had a difficult childhood.

  Peter looked at his wife, who was looking absently at the jam. No, she’s not thinking about the great night with José. Don’t be silly. You’re happily married, and Franziska is just tired.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “If I’d have to wander around bars until the wee hours of the morning, no, I’d rather sleep in. I hope you’re good hosts.”

  March 1, 2026 – Passau

  It was all crap. Peter deleted the highlighted text he’d written the night before. It said what he meant to say, but it still didn’t come across the way he thought it should. He had read one or two astronomy papers before, but writing one himself was something else. Besides, if you’ve spent the whole time waiting for your wife to come home, how could you be expected to pull your thoughts together and write something professional-looking?

  But he’d waited in vain. Franziska came home at around ten o’clock in the morning, this time wearing her own blouse but smelling like smoke again. He was no expert, but today there seemed to be a lingering sweetish aroma. Of course, maybe that was because of his prejudice against José—not every Colombian was a member of a drug cartel.