He has been swimming non-stop since his mother’s call. The continuous effort helped him to suppress his fear. He cannot simply move to the coast and step on land. First the draght awaits him. That is the way life works on this planet. Brightnight and darknight last 49 weeks. Mother Sun rises and sets 343 times, Father Sun only once. And then comes the time of twilight, two days floating between this cycle and the next, in a kind of no man’s land. Before cycle 3308 begins he will turn from adolescent to adult, in a process he knows nothing about except that it is painful. During the past 49 weeks Gronolf rarely felt afraid. He remembers his encounter with the carriontooth. In retrospect this gave him courage, and three weeks ago he managed to kill his first carriontooth. The predator fish tasted awful, but he ate all of it, and it felt good.
Yet he is unsure about the draght. How can he start it? Nobody gave him any instructions. Only the call of his mother, telling him to get started. He also heard the other mothers, but only the voice of his own maker filled him with warmth. Couldn’t she have revealed what is expected of him? Gronolf swims forward with strong kicks of his legs. He has grown, and his body is probably five times as long as when he hatched and started swimming away from the beach.
His skin has become tough—that carriontooth he evaded soon after he hatched would stand no chance now. His legs are muscular and his eyes are sharp. He has learned to see an all-around panorama, instead of individual images from each eye. When he raises his body above the surface, nothing escapes him, no matter in which direction. He has also learned to interpret weather phenomena. He knows what the evening purple means, when the sky will change from green to turquoise, and when he has to watch for the sudden appearance of whirlwinds.
Gronolf can feel his body. He glides through the water with powerful movements. Nobody can stop him. How might his siblings have fared? Are they just as big and strong as he is? He has to be careful. He should not feel too secure. Why should he have received the best genetic material and become the strongest in his plex? While it feels that way right now, it is not very likely. Just watch it, Gronolf, he thinks. During the last few weeks he often talked out loud to himself. He couldn’t help it, because he needed to hear his voice—or rather, any voice. He knows this is a sign of weakness, but isn’t it also sensible to train his voice? Shouldn’t the biggest one in the plex also be the loudest? He realizes, though, that he had better stop these soliloquies.
Gronolf calls down into the water. He can determine the depth by the time the sound takes to return. His sense of smell tells him he is swimming above rocks. The beach must still be quite a distance away. He will notice the approaching shore because sand will replace the rocky sea floor. No plants grow this close to the coast. The ocean is too warm here, and not salty enough. In the past—during the dawn of civilization—that must have been different. The Grosnops have dominated their planet.
He emerges from the water. Something tells him the darknight will end soon. And indeed, he can detect the first traces of Father Sun on the horizon. Once it rises completely above the Mountains of Legends, in all its remote paternal glory, he will have become a man, having survived the draght.
Suddenly his left leg is stuck. Gronolf is shocked. He turns in all directions. Both legs are stiff, as if something is holding them, but there is nothing. His muscles simply no longer obey his commands. What is happening here? Is he sick? Then the other leg simply stops moving. This can’t be! He has been able to rely on his legs for an entire cycle! Gradually he sinks below the water. His inertia is still moving him through the ocean, but if he can no longer kick, not enough water will flow through his gills and he will inevitably suffocate.
Gronolf frantically moves his two tiny forearms, which are more reminiscent of the fins of a fish, but without effect. He tries to hold the air in his swim bladder as long as possible. He can use the air supply several times and should survive for two bubble periods if he does not exert himself too much. He stops moving his arms. That’s useless anyway. Frantic thoughts whirl through his brain. He would like to turn them off, but he can’t. What if a carriontooth catches me now? Nonsense, he thinks, those creatures don’t dare get this close to the coast. And it doesn’t matter anyway. He needs to move his legs so he can get enough air and keep from suffocating. It is way too early! Didn’t he promise to make his mother proud? Perhaps, he thinks, I am number eight and my death would give her the lucky number she deserves. He notices, though, that he is not convinced. He wants to survive, no matter whether his mother has seven or eight descendants in her plex. That is selfish, but he doesn’t care, as he will never have to answer for it—he is dying now.
“Mother!” he calls. “Mother?”
Gronolf receives no answer.
Can’t she hear him? Is he not calling loudly enough? Doesn’t she want to answer? Is it because that would be against the rules—or because she doesn’t love him? He feels the hard floor touching the skin on his belly. Now it is too late. He comes to rest and has no chance to gain momentum again. His heart is beating faster. This will hasten his end, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Gronolf feels ready to give in to death. Then an unbearable pain flashes through his chest. What is happening to my body? Is this the end? he thinks.
He hears his mother calling him again. He is grateful for it. Her voice is infinitely comforting. His consciousness fades as the pain becomes excruciating.
May 9, 19, Marchenko 2
Now that thing is directly above them. Marchenko 2 is quite satisfied with himself. Adam is still fast asleep, and he won’t wake him up. The boy shouldn’t see what he is about to do. It is better if he doesn’t know everything. Adam does not realize that an analysis of his blood found a kind of antifreeze. If he knew that his body had been genetically modified in such a way that extreme cold hardly affects him, it would be more difficult to keep the boy under control. Marchenko 2 is not naive. He knows that Adam misses his sister and certainly that other Marchenko, who made himself into something like a father to the boy. He intends to solve both of these problems now. He will get Eve back, and get rid of his alter ego once and for all.
As he doesn’t want any witnesses for that, he will leave Adam behind in dreamland. He turns off Valkyrie’s control system and, to be on the safe side, deactivates all radio channels except for his private frequency, to allow Adam to reach him once he awakens. Then he checks his energy supply. He cannot reach the strange mass above him, probably a building, directly. He will first have to dig through an ice layer. During the last few days he has reshaped his body so that he has only a small cross-section.
The best way to get rid of the ice is for him to melt it. Therefore his head now contains an electrical heater and a small turbine, which will blow heated water to make the channel for him to go through the ice. Basically, his body is a miniature version of Valkyrie. He had wondered whether to use the submarine, which was designed for this very purpose, but he would not have been able to hide this from Adam. He must not take the conflict with other Marchenko too lightly. It is enough that Eve is against him.
Marchenko 2 accelerates by contracting his bell-shaped lower part. He looks sort of like a very slim squid. It is good Adam and Eve won’t get to see him in this shape, which he only needs to get through the ice layer. The radar in his head shows him how cragged the underside of the ice is. It is overgrown with something that might be compared to lichen. How could this plant species get enough energy down here? And is it really a plant? He briefly thinks of the Enceladus creature, which consists of billions of independent cells. Perhaps he is now in the presence of the real master of Proxima Centauri b! Marchenko 2 suppresses this thought. He has to concentrate on finding a way upward. He carefully looks for a particularly suitable spot and starts drilling a tunnel through the ice.
He moves ahead faster than expected. The ice should be harder and therefore more difficult to melt as he progresses toward the surface. With its air temperature of minus 80 degrees, it is much colder up there than in the four-degree oc
ean water beneath the ice layer. Yet the building above him is probably radiating energy, so that the ice here is also heated from above. After an hour and a half of work he is almost done. The radar is still not showing anything, because it does not penetrate far enough into the ice, but the building is already influencing the magnetic field. Therefore, a significant part of it must consist of metal.
Ten minutes later the radar suddenly indicates a cavity. Marchenko 2 stops the drill turbine immediately. He has to think about this. The radar can’t definitively tell him what the cavity contains. If it is filled with air, he must not simply break into it from below, as the water pressure would fill the cavity quickly due to ‘the principle of communicating vessels.’ He has to assume that this cavity exists for a reason, so he should be as cautious as possible. How can he avoid an accident? He has to prevent the water from entering the cavity together with himself. For this purpose, all he needs to do is close off his tunnel behind himself. Marchenko 2 precisely measures the diameter of the tunnel below him, then he widens his current position slightly and cuts a correctly sized plug from the side wall.
He finishes 30 minutes later. The ice plug fits perfectly. He presses it into the tunnel with all his might. Now nothing behind him can move upward.
Marchenko 2 concentrates on climbing again. He drills more slowly than before and therefore he takes another half an hour for the last few meters. And then he is there. The cavity opens up, reaching far above him. It is not filled with air but with water. However, the water contains much less salt than the ocean, so it must come from a different source. It is probably meltwater with some technical impurities.
He turns on his searchlight. The floor of the cavity is covered with strange objects. None of them is longer than one or two meters. He swims to the first object he sees. It consists of a shiny material. He shakes it. Judging from the weight it must be metal. The thing has a kind of wing, with three rods attached, which end in small rings. One of the rods is bent in the middle at a 30-degree angle, the other ones are straight. He turns the object around and notices a sharp edge. It looks like something has been broken off. The edge is uneven but, based on the manufacturing quality elsewhere, this cannot be on purpose. He is probably looking at a piece of junk. He drops it.
Marchenko 2 moves another meter to a second, cube-shaped object. It is bright. He touches it and notices it is made from a soft material. There is a hole in the middle. He shines his light into it and notices a second object, which seems to be unattached. He tilts the cube over and the hidden object slowly sinks toward the bottom. He catches it. It is egg-shaped and has an elastic surface. Yet on the tip it is dented. What function might it have fulfilled? Now it is obviously defective. He has probably found the garbage dump of the aliens’ building. They are not exactly environmentalists, he thinks, simply throwing their garbage outside into the ecosystem. On the other hand, this probably doesn’t bother anyone here. He might be the first person to stray into this cave full of garbage.
Marchenko 2 examines three other objects. They are all so alien he can’t even guess their functions. They must have been parts of larger machinery. He could develop better assumptions if he only knew more about the former inhabitants of this planet. And where can he find out more? He has to enter the building above him. While he is not yet sure that it is indeed a building, everything points in that directions. He just lacks the final proof.
He aims his measuring instruments upward. Whatever fell into the garbage dump must have come from the building. The exit, which hopefully will soon function as an entrance, must therefore be above him. Yet the only thing he can measure from here is the presence of a large amount of metal. He slowly floats upward. His camera eyes notice it even before the radar. The massive wall above him seems to have a gap in it. He cautiously approaches. Could there be defense mechanisms here? Not very likely, as the garbage dump has no exit, so no enemy could approach from this direction. On the other hand, it is better to be cautious than to end his life in a cave in the ice. He wouldn’t so much regret losing his own life, nor the ignominy of losing it in a garbage dump, but he would sincerely regret having to give up his intended revenge on the other Marchenko.
He approaches the hole at an angle from the side, meter by meter, but nothing happens. The designers of this edifice obviously did not expect any danger from this direction. He finally reaches the underside of the building. It is electrically conductive, so it must be made of metal. Two meters ahead he sees the hole. He aims his searchlight into it. There is water on the inside as well. There is neither a filter nor a flap. He scoots a little bit closer. One thing is noticeable: The hole in the bottom of the building is jagged and uneven. If somebody built it this way it must have been some very sloppy work, or the opening was constructed like this for a reason he can’t readily guess. Perhaps it is intended to injure whoever falls down here. No, that is nonsense. It is much more likely that the hole was not made deliberately.
Marchenko 2 runs a quick simulation in his head. A jagged pattern like this might have formed as the result of an explosion. The explosion must have occurred inside the building, close to the bottom. Perhaps there was no water in there at that point in time? No, because then the explosion would not have created such an effect. Water does not compress easily and it passes on such enormous forces very well. If the interior had been filled with air, the hole would have ended up much smaller.
He might be totally wrong, though. What if the inhabitants like to use forceful methods to expand their buildings? There is only one way to find out. He has to find fragments of the outer wall at the bottom of the garbage dump, fragments which fit together perfectly. Marchenko 2 measures how thick the material he is looking for has to be. The remnants of the explosion have to be somewhere below him. He only has to photograph the bottom systematically and then run a pattern recognition program.
Marchenko 2 starts working. He aims his searchlight on a spot at the bottom and photographs it before moving to the next one. After 24 minutes he has covered the entire bottom of the garbage dump. He does a color correction, increases the contrast, and applies his pattern algorithm to the result. Piece of cake. A few seconds later this part of his consciousness reports a success message. There are several fragments down there that were definitely once part of the outer shell of the building.
But there is something else. At the bottom of the ice cave there is something his algorithms classified as a living being. That object only has a tiny bit of energy left. Marchenko 2 is excited. What has he just found? Is that one of the inhabitants of this planet? No, his algorithms tell him the being down there shows obvious similarities to himself.
Brightnight 1, 3308
“Uaaaaaah!”
A scream issues from his throat. He takes in air again. I can breathe! This means he is alive! Does it mean that? What happened? Everything around him is dark. Is he at the bottom of the ocean?
Gronolf tries in vain to open his eyes. He should be calm now, really calm. He listens to his body, sends signals to all regions, but receives no answer. It is almost as if he does not have a body anymore. Yet there is a tingling in his right hip, a tactile sensation. No, it is not a tingling, but a dull pressure, a pain. He has to relearn how to interpret the signals sent by his body. There can be only one reason for this: It must have been the draght. He has survived it! Life gave him a new body, that of an adult. Why did nobody ever tell him how painful the process would be? Because then you would not have swum to the shore, you idiot, he tells himself. Nobody dies voluntarily, even if there is the chance of a rebirth. After all, not all Grosnops succeed. Some are too immature for the draght, others are too mature. The metamorphosis only works if it is triggered on a certain day, the first day of the no man’s land twilight.
And now? Shouldn’t his body functions become normal again? When can he finally open his eyes, when can he smell again, and when can he celebrate his victory on the beach? Gronolf uses the sonar to call his mother.
“
Mother? Mother, where are you?”
He receives no answer. Yet he feels the echo of the reflected waves. His sense of speech is working, but his mother cannot hear him—or she does not want to answer. He concentrates on his body, which must have changed while he was dead. He carefully sends simple thoughts along nerve pathways and hopes they will arrive somewhere. If that was the draght, which is really the only explanation, his body must have been partially rewired.
There. The smallest of the four toes on his right leg just twitched. Isn’t that a success? He can clearly visualize this part of his body. And now fingers number six and seven of his left hand react. He can also imagine exactly what they look like. There are the joints that can move in all directions, one at the base and the other near the end of the finger. This is followed by the hard shell on the outside and the fine skin on the inside, which he used to caress Sindor, when she... No, this can’t be. Gronolf is confused. What about this scene in his head, which feels like a memory?
Where is he really, now? During the draght his gills shrank, while his lungs grew so they alone can provide his body with oxygen. His mother had explained that to him. He can breathe independently, so he is no longer lying at the bottom of the sea. Somebody must have moved him onto land. Gronolf visualizes a row of tents on the beach. But that is also impossible. He never saw how the young Grosnops were cared for after the draght. Did his mother send this image to him? Then why doesn’t she reply? He becomes impatient. When will his limbs start working again? There, an eyelid is moving. He feels the leathery skin sliding over the lens. Soon he should be able to see the roof of the tent and perhaps one of the volunteers nursing those who finished the draght. He imagines his mother watching him. How proud she must be because of his strong physique.
Proxima Dreaming Page 2
