A woman was standing there. Because the living room door was only half open, Peter could only see her left half, and from behind, but the black skirt she was wearing showed that Miguel must be female. He entered the room, and the woman turned to face him. She was decidedly pretty, slightly shorter than himself, with black hair and tanned skin. She wore a classic white blouse with her black skirt.
Peter thought he smelled a hint of perfume, but it must be a deception. The woman extended her hand. Peter returned the gesture and reached into the void. Of course—it was a hologram, after all. The woman opened her mouth as if she were speaking, but no sound came out. She then pointed to her ear with her right hand.
He’d forgotten to turn on the sound. The music that the astral projector usually played annoyed him, so normally the sound was off. He rotated his index finger clockwise a few times.
“... very pleased to meet you,” the woman said with a slight accent.
“Likewise,” Peter said. “Although I was expecting to meet Miguel here.”
“I’m sorry about that,” the woman said. “I’m Miguel. But if you prefer, I can choose a different avatar, one that is male or genderless. My algorithms had calculated from the available data that you would respond best to a female avatar.”
“It’s okay,” Peter said.
So Miguel was a chatbot after all, an artificial intelligence. The woman looked so real. Except, when she moved her head and individual strands of hair became visible, they appeared with colorful fringes of light.
“What should I call you?” Peter asked.
“You’re welcome to stay with Miguel. That’s the name of my main programmer. He’s the one I feel most comfortable with.”
“Good. Miguel it is, then.”
“May I ask where we are?” asked Miguel.
The question sounded strange, but it was probably justified. The chatbot must have expected to show up in an office environment.
“In my living room,” Peter explained. “I prefer to work in a home office.”
He looked down at himself. Fortunately, he hadn’t slipped into his sweatpants yet, as he usually did after work.
“Of course,” Miguel said. “Would you please join me?”
What was she up to? No, he? Or better, it?
He took a few steps toward the avatar.
“Thank you,” Miguel said.
Suddenly, a shiny silver-colored metal shelf unit stood behind him, in which many cuboid boxes were stored. The living room door protruded into the image and therefore disrupted it.
“The door,” Miguel said.
“Yeah, go ahead and close it,” Peter said.
Miguel raised her hands and shrugged apologetically. Peter slapped his forehead. The avatar looked so real! Of course! She couldn’t interact with the real world. He gave the door handle a push and it slammed shut.
“Thank you.” The avatar turned to the shelf and took out one of the cubes. Then she held it out toward Peter as if it were a gift. “This is our basic unit. Technically a 3U CubeSat.”
The cuboid was slightly longer than a school ruler, and about ten centimeters each in height and depth.
“How much does something like this cost?” asked Peter.
“Well, before we talk about prices, let’s talk about what the basic unit can do. Always included are the Command and Control Module, or CCM, and a more than adequate power supply with a runtime of six weeks. Also integrated is the DEO, as required by law in the EU. If you want to save costs, we can refer you to our office in Kinshasa, where the regulations are a bit more relaxed.”
“The law requires deodorant for satellites?”
“A ‘deorbiting device.’ At the end of its lifetime, any new satellite launched under an EU license must be able to steer itself into the Earth’s upper atmosphere to burn up and thus avoid becoming space debris. We are relying on low-cost iodine thrusters. These are basically nothing more than pressurized spray bottles with no moving parts. I assume that the CubeSat will be stationed in low Earth orbit. At higher orbits, it will be much more expensive.”
“Ah, can we talk about prices now?”
“I still wanted to—”
“No, Miguel. First I need to know how much this fun will cost me.”
“The 3U module with the described equipment comes to about 119,000 euros, launch included. However, our ground services end one day after the launch. We offer a continuation of ground services in a low-cost subscription of 8,000 euros per week.”
“What do I need that for?”
“We monitor your satellite’s orbit and relay command and control signals to it. You could do this yourself with a powerful radio, at least when the CubeSat is within your range. You would have to determine how important constant monitoring is. I can make an algorithmic estimate if you tell me the exact purpose of the satellite.”
“No thanks. I don’t need it right now.”
“Suit yourself, Peter. What’s the planned mission duration?”
If he only knew! It would be best if the beacon would send forever and ever. But he probably couldn’t ask for that.
“Twenty years would be good,” he said.
“Oh. Are you sure?” Miguel put the CubeSat back on the shelf.
“Is that a problem?”
“In more ways than one. With such a long operating time, we need to harden the electronics against cosmic rays. We also need a chemical engine to sustain orbit for that long. A 3U model certainly won’t cut it there. May I be frank?”
“Of course.”
“With such requirements, I would have to advise a standard satellite in the 200-kilogram class. But that quickly takes us into the higher six-figure range. And I have a feeling that’s not quite what you can afford. Please don’t get me wrong.”
Peter swallowed. The avatar had been implanted with an awful lot of self-confidence. But she was right—Peter didn’t have a million euros, and it was easy to see when you were standing in his living room. He might be able to come up with 600,000 euros if he sold the house that had belonged to his mother, who’d died last year.
“Then I guess I’ll have to go somewhere else—” he began.
“Not at all.” The avatar smiled broadly. “There is a simple alternative. We’re banking on a mission duration of twenty-four months, and before those two years are up, we’ll simply send a replacement into orbit.”
“But then we need ten CubeSats for twenty years. That’s even more expensive, isn’t it?”
“You’re forgetting about technological progress. Hardware prices have been cut in half over the past five years. Startup costs have dropped by two-thirds. Competition is so strong that this trend will continue. In ten years, shipping three kilograms into low Earth orbit will cost less than shipping to Australia. After all, Earth orbit is only a few hundred kilometers away!”
“That sounds too good to be true.”
“It is true, though. All the market researchers say so.”
The Avatar took a larger box from the shelf. It was the same length and width as the first one but twice as deep.
“However, we won’t be able to get by with the 3U model even with two years of mission time. We need a lot of power, for one thing. Look at this 6U option, which is roughly ten by twenty by thirty!”
Peter watched as Miguel moved one latch on each of the four sides of the base of the box. Next, she folded the side surface upward. On its inner side, which now faced outward, were solar cells. The avatar repeated this process on all four sides until the CubeSat had a cross-shaped ring of solar panels. Then she reached to the other end, loosened one latch per side there as well, and flipped out four more panels that were connected to the other end of the satellite. Peter saw that solar cells also covered the CubeSat’s basic framework.
“So, that makes a total of six panels, each with a base area of thirty by twenty square centimeters, and six more, each with thirty by ten square centimeters, so that makes 5,400 square centimeters,” Miguel explained. “
If we also equip the backs of the fold-out panels with cells, we even get to 9,000 square centimeters, but with lower efficiency then. That leaves us at a pretty decent price for the system.”
“But then there’s no room for the antenna,” said Peter.
“Oh, yes there is. It’s in here,” Miguel said. The woman reached her hand sideways, moving it deep inside the box. Then she pulled out what looked like a collapsed umbrella. The construction unfolded into a bowl.
“That’s where we’ve got the good stuff,” Miguel said. “It’s a JPL development, a retractable high-gain reflector. With a 12U unit, we could even integrate a second antenna like that, but that would be quite expensive.”
“Define expensive,” Peter said.
“Just a moment. For your particular mission, the CubeSat needs attitude control. I suggest that we combine a launch tracker with a magnetorquer. The launch tracker will determine the position and attitude change of the satellite. The magnetorquer then adjusts the attitude accordingly. That way, we can prevent the satellite from going into a spin while efficiently aligning the solar panels.”
“What’s a magnetorquer?” Peter asked. “Do you have time to explain it to me?”
“Of course. My company has licensed twenty instances of my AI. Currently, only three are in use, so we don’t have a capacity problem.”
“I understand.”
So somewhere, two other avatars of the same AI were standing and explaining to other customers what they wanted to know.
“An excellent question,” said the holographic woman. “Basically, we run electricity through a magnetic loop, which causes the loop to align with the field lines of the Earth’s magnetic field. It’s a fairly primitive technique that doesn’t require special electronics. But it works very well in low Earth orbit, and provides enough angular momentum.”
“Good. And that’s it?”
“Well, we won’t be able to do without thermal management, but good insulation and heat dissipation of the processor will probably be enough for that. I’d go for consumer-grade silicon, but doubled for safety.”
“Meaning?”
“We’re using conventional circuitry like you would use on Earth. But, to reduce the risk of a failure, we build everything in twice.”
“Ah, sure. That sounds smart.”
“It saves a lot of money.”
“That strikes the right note.”
“Yes, Peter, I think so too. I just had the engineering team sign off on the design proposal in the background. So it’s feasible as a 6U CubeSat.”
“And how soon?” Peter asked.
The hologram of the woman turned the hologram of the CubeSat in her hands, looking at it. It looked as if she was lost in thought, but she was probably talking to the engineers. Or with the engineers’ AI?
“These are standard components,” the avatar then explained, “but integrating the power supply and reflector is a bit more involved. The engineers estimate that it will take four weeks. I know that’s a conservative estimate, though. According to the statistics of all previous orders, such special requests have been completed in less than twenty days.”
“And then when would the launch be possible?”
“Our next rideshare launch is scheduled for April 30, on a New Glenn from Blue Origin. There’s still room for twenty units. If you agree, I can reserve a spot for you right now.”
“Just a minute. You haven’t named a price yet.”
“The price is really very reasonable. Rumor has it that Blue Origin is just trying to buy market share with especially low prices. But whatever the reason, you’re benefiting from it.”
“That’s great, but what is the price?”
“Well, the 6U module alone we normally offer for 400,000 euros, including launch. Plus the special requests and the rush surcharge—”
“You didn’t mention anything about those.”
“All contracts with a launch date in the next 60 days are subject to the 15 percent rush fee, but don’t worry. If you sign the contract right away, I can offer it all to you for just 298,000 euros, including sales tax.”
Phew! Almost 300,000 euros. Half a house. Probably payable in advance. He wouldn’t be able to sell his mother’s house that quickly. When Franziska heard about it, she’d think he was out of his mind. All because of a crazy idea, she’d say. But that was wrong. It was not an idea. He had proof, even if it was not enough for others. After all, the fate of the Earth was at stake.
“Okay, I agree,” he said.
“What about insurance?” asked Miguel.
“Insurance?”
“The launch could fail. The rocket could explode. Then all the payloads will be lost.”
“What’s the risk?”
“That’s hard to quantify. So far, no commercial New Glenn mission has failed, but there’s always a first time. We’re working with a major insurance company. For 19,000 euros, your 6U unit is fully insured. If the first attempt fails, you get a second one free of charge.”
Peter took a deep breath. That would be 317,000 euros. Who knew what else they would add? But certainly not so much that he’d have gambled away his inheritance completely. The market was good, and he could certainly get more than 600,000 for the house.
“Then I’ll take the insurance,” he said.
“A wise decision,” the woman said, taking the 6U unit off the shelf once again. “I forgot one more thing. You can choose the paint finish on the base module. How about gold paint?”
The CubeSat suddenly shined golden.
“Or maybe a nice red?”
The cuboid looked as if it had been dipped in blood.
“We also have various patterns.”
Pink hearts were spreading over the satellite.
“No, thank you,” Peter exclaimed.
“The paint is complimentary. I recommend gold, which also helps with thermal management.”
“Well, gold then.”
“I’ll send you the contract on your computer. You can sign it digitally.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, yes. One more thing. Unfortunately, since you’re a new customer, we can’t start fulfilling the contract until you deposit a guaranteed amount with us.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand euros. If you transfer it today, there should be no scheduling problems.”
“I... Of course. I’ll transfer today.”
Bummer. He wouldn’t get the liquidity value of the house that quickly. He’d have to transfer the money from their joint account. If he remembered correctly, it should have just under 60,000 euros.
Peter looked up. He was standing alone again in his living room. Dark smoke seeped out of the kitchen through the crack under the door. Shit! He ran to the oven. Why hadn’t he smelled it earlier? Thick clouds came out. He turned it off and yanked open the door. A gush of hot smokey air blinded him. More smoke spread through the kitchen. Peter started coughing. The pizza had turned into a lump of coal. He thrust the kitchen window wide open, then opened the front door and all the living room windows. What was he supposed to eat now?
He held a dishtowel over his mouth and nose, and got some sausage and bread from the refrigerator. With that, he retreated to the living room.
08 52 36 +28 19 51
GURA jnf abg aba-rkvfgrag abe rkvfgrag: gurer jnf ab ernyz bs nve, ab fxl orlbaq vg.
Jung pbirerq va, naq jurer? naq jung tnir furygre? Jnf jngre gurer, hasngubzrq qrcgu bs jngre?
Qrngu jnf abg gura, abe jnf gurer nhtug vzzbegny: ab fvta jnf gurer, gur qnl'f naq avtug'f qvivqre.
Gung Bar Guvat, oernguyrff, oerngurq ol vgf bja angher: ncneg sebz vg jnf abguvat jungfbrire.
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Nyy gung rkvfgrq gura jnf ibvq naq sbezyrff: ol gur terng cbjre bs Jnezgu jnf obea gung Havg.
Gurernsgre ebfr Qrfver va gur ortvaavat, Qrfver, gur cevzny frrq naq trez bs Fcvevg.
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purq jvgu gurve urneg'f gubhtug qvfpbirerq gur rkvfgrag'f xvafuvc va gur aba-rkvfgrag.
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Gurer jrer ortrggref, gurer jrer zvtugl sbeprf, serr npgvba urer naq raretl hc lbaqre
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Gur Tbqf ner yngre guna guvf jbeyq'f cebqhpgvba. Jub xabjf gura jurapr vg svefg pnzr vagb orvat?
Ur, gur svefg bevtva bs guvf perngvba, jurgure ur sbezrq vg nyy be qvq abg sbez vg,
Jubfr rlr pbagebyf guvf jbeyq va uvturfg urnira, ur irevyl xabjf vg, be creuncf ur xabjf abg.
March 13, 2026 – Passau
“Are you insane?” Franziska’s voice exploded in his ear.
He’d been pleased to see her number on his caller ID, but he should not have taken her call. Who could have guessed that the bank advisor who looked after their account at the small cooperative bank would check with his wife about the transfer? And, first thing in the morning?
“There are good reasons for everything,” he replied. “Believe me, honey.”
“I’m not your honey! And of course there are reasons. You want the money for yourself, that’s obvious!”
“I just borrowed it temporarily, until I sold the house.”
“What, you want to sell our house? And I’m just finding out about it in passing? But there’s no way you can do that without my consent. I absolutely can’t believe this. It’s a good thing William called me.”
“William?”
“William Maximilian Deuer. You know him. He advised us on the refinancing back when we did that. But don’t deflect!”
Deuer, that’s right. That’s the guy from the bank. Peter remembered the long name tag. Didn’t he violate bank secrecy by doing that? Probably not. After all, it was a joint account. With account movements of this size, any good bank advisor would take notice.
The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction Page 12
