For the remaining majority of the Grosnops, the shelter building was constructed—right in the middle of the dark side facing away from the sun. This would protect them from the effects of the flares and save energy in running the cryogenic chambers. In secret they hoped that the home world would send help sometime—at the latest when the first shuttle had arrived. The archive has no information about whether this ever happened. No messages from the home world arrived.
They also kept a communication channel open, just in case the Omniscience on board the Majestic Draght changed its mind. Yet in all the cycles since the completion of the shelter building there had been no interaction—until a few days ago, when a desperate Eve seems to have sent a signal that provoked the Omniscience to react.
Gronolf searches for the syllable ‘Mur’ again, this time in the passenger lists of the shuttles that started their voyage to the home world in 3359. And this time he finds something. Murnaka’s father must have arranged for her to get one of the coveted places. That was so much like him.
After Gronolf’s failure to complete his mission and also his loss of General Murnak’s daughter, he had initially been demoted. He never heard from Murnaka again. Yet weeks after the last waves of shuttle landings, a final transport had reached the planet. The identities of those on board were kept a strict secret. One brightnight later he was promoted—surprisingly—to his old rank again.
Gronolf feels it is time to wake the others. For years a wound has been bleeding inside him, sometimes unnoticed, sometimes painfully, which he now has to staunch. It was really an amazing coincidence that the system chose to pull him from his sleeping chamber.
May 10, 19, Eve
Eve spent the night on a beam that was narrower than her upper body. Nevertheless, she slept better than she had in a long time. The beam was padded surprisingly well, and even though she mostly lay on her side, she managed to keep from falling off.
Adam is just coming from the washroom, bare-chested. He seems to be in a good mood. “The basins are great for doing laundry,” he says. “Give it a try.”
Adam is right. Her clothes smell pretty bad, even though she bathed yesterday. She grabs all her things and disappears into the washroom. The smallest basin in the corner is for relieving oneself, that’s what they agreed on. How do the frogs handle this body function? She has not yet found a toilet adapted to the anatomy of the locals. Perhaps it is hidden behind one of the invisible doors. It seems the alien just has to look at one of the doors in order to open it. If she could only talk to him, that would make everything so much easier.
After answering the call of nature Eve walks to the larger basin. She undresses and first washes her clothing, then herself. Unfortunately there is no clothes dryer. Therefore she squeezes everything out as well as she can, hangs the outerwear over a short wall, and puts on the wet underwear. Luckily, it is warm enough not to be uncomfortable.
Eve’s stomach is growling. She hopes Marchenko has created some tasty food overnight. That is the AI’s one skill she probably missed most. No, that would be unjust, she thinks. But some fresh coffee and a crisp roll would be perfect now.
“Good morning, Eve!”
She is startled when Marchenko greets her in the shape of a bipedal robot almost as tall as herself. He must have done a lot of remodeling during the night. He definitely looks better than the piece of scrap he was yesterday, even though this lowers her chance of getting freshly baked rolls.
“Good morning!”
“Did you sleep well, even on that beam?”
“Very well. From now on I will insist on such a contraption.”
“How about breakfast?”
“Gladly,” she says.
Marchenko points at the door leading to the next room. There he used a kind of lectern as a table. There is a cup which actually smells of coffee and a bowl filled with porridge. Next to it she sees a spoon.
“Adam already finished,” Marchenko says. “Unfortunately the porridge is nutritious, but that’s all.”
“Thanks.” Eve nods and lifts the cup of coffee. Even from a close distance the beverage still smells real. She wonders how Marchenko always manages to do that. His nano-fabricators really are a miracle.
“How did you do all this?”
“I borrowed Marchenko 2’s nano-fabricators.”
“Borrowed? Isn’t he dead?” Eve visualizes how she aimed the alien’s weapon at the robot and pulled the trigger. She is to blame for his death, even though she had no choice.
“‘Dead’ is a relative term. He is a machine, like I am, so you might rather say he is broken, defective.”
“And his consciousness?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to deal with that. If his memory units are not too fragmented, his consciousness could be repaired. The memory contents will persist even without an energy supply. The data just can’t be changed anymore.”
“So this means he will eternally see this scene in which I fire the weapon at him?”
“That image will remain, yes, but for him time no longer passes. Without energy, the internal clock no longer works.”
“So if we manage to repair him, no time would have passed for him?”
“Yes. Do you want us to repair him?”
Eve notices that Marchenko is giving her a compassionate look. Within one night he has even managed to give his face emotions. That is amazing.
“No, absolutely not. He deserved death,” she says more aggressively than she intended to, and is shocked by the anger in her own voice. “Sorry,” she adds.
“You don’t have to apologize. You had several days of utter despair behind you.”
“That is true.” If she isn’t careful now she will start to cry. She takes a sip. The warm beverage runs down her throat. It tastes like a mixture of coffee and tea. She puts down the cup and reaches for the bowl and the spoon. The porridge has a sweetish smell.
“Carbohydrates and protein,” Marchenko says. “I made them from—”
“That’s okay, I don’t really need to know,” she interrupts him. She dips the spoon into the mass, which has a slimy, sticky consistency. I am sure there will be rolls tomorrow, she thinks, gets over her aversion, and moves the spoon with its contents into her mouth. Without energy from food she won’t survive—Marchenko is better off in that aspect.
“How do you recharge in here?” she asks.
“No problem, the entire building is full of electrical cables. The alien showed me an outlet where I can get 900 volts.”
“Sounds tasty,” Eve says, then laughs.
“Yes, it’s a great feeling, almost like eating ice cream.”
She actually manages to finish the bowl, because she is so hungry.
“Once you are done I would like to invite you to a meeting in the control center,” he says.
“Just a moment, I have to brush my teeth.”
While Eve stands in front of the basin, rinsing her mouth, she can barely believe her luck. A little while ago she was almost dead, and now her everyday routine has returned. Not completely, she remembers. There is still a huge spaceship hurtling towards the planet. Yet she is no longer alone and now she can face the future with more optimism.
May 10, 19, Adam
To the left of him sits a live alien, to the right a dead one. If he’d seen something like this three days ago, he would have soiled his pants out of sheer fright. Today it seems completely normal to him. He even knows the name of the alien—the live one—with whom they are going to have the first meeting of the day.
Everything is quite normal in appearance. The five of them will discuss how they can save this planet, Gronolf’s numerous friends, and ultimately themselves. The fifth one, the dead general, won’t actively participate, but at least he is the perfect warning of what will happen to them if they fail.
“Gronolf,” the alien says. He points to himself.
Adam turns around. Is this a round of introductions?
“Marchenko.”
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“Eve.”
“Adam.”
Then the alien repeats their three names. Well, Adam had been worrying it might be tough going. Marchenko told him this morning that he has learned about 500 words in the alien language. That’s probably not enough for complicated plans to save the world. Yet don’t they say that the simplest plans are the best? He would be satisfied with a simple plan.
The alien gets up and walks to the holo-map they already admired yesterday. Gronolf is not wasting any time. He uses the control panel to zoom in on the thing racing toward them. It has a complicated name for which Marchenko could only provide the rough translation ‘Great Youth.’ A species that gives spaceships names like that cannot be evil and has a sense for poetry, Adam thinks.
Gronolf freezes the holographic image and the Great Youth suddenly stops. Then he aims one of his long arms at Marchenko.
“Ro-bot,” he says in English. Robot, right, Marchenko is one, but also more than that. Then the alien points at the spaceship again and says the word again. He repeats his gestures and words twice. The ship is a robot, that much seems to be clear, even if it makes no sense so far.
“Artificial intelligence,” Marchenko says in English, and points at a small display on his arm.
Gronolf turns so he can see the display well with his front eye. Adam is too far away.
“Let me quickly solve a differential equation,” Marchenko explains.
Something is probably happening on the display. It does not matter what exactly it is or how much Gronolf understands. Marchenko wants to show him his thought process, which is a difficult task. Doesn’t he expect too much from Gronolf?
Adam speaks up. He has a better idea. When the others acknowledge him, he takes a screw from his pocket, shows it to everyone, puts it in his right fist, but also closes his left one. He wiggles his hands a bit and then holds out his fists to Gronolf. The alien realizes what is expected of him and points at the right fist. Adam opens it and shows the screw.
“Thinking,” Adam says, and then points at Marchenko, the thinking machine. Gronolf seems to be very glad about it, because he winks several times with his front eye.
“Artificial intelligence,” Marchenko says again, then points at himself. He repeats the term and now indicates the ship.
Gronolf also points at Marchenko and the ship and tries out the English term. It sounds like, “art-a-fish nn-tel-enzz.”
It looks like the ship is controlled by an artificial intelligence. Is that good or bad news? Gronolf repeats the difficult words, but then he suddenly jumps up and runs from the room. The length of his strides is amazing. How far can he jump? Soon afterward he returns, holding an object in his hand. It is a fragment of the dead Marchenko. Gronolf makes a sound like the firing of his weapon and points at Eve. The alien must have noticed that Marchenko 2 resembles the real one in one aspect: He is also an AI—but a defective one.
“Could it be that the ship is controlled by an inoperative AI?”
“Yes, Adam, that’s what I also think,” Marchenko says.
“If the AI is inoperative, how can it steer such a huge ship?” Eve adds. “Did you see the acceleration data? These are far beyond what human technology is capable of. And wouldn’t the control system simply fail?”
Adam looks at the map. It displays some kind of symbols, but no velocity values he can read. He slaps his hand against his forehead. Eve must have calculated based on the ship’s starting position.
“That is a real contradiction,” Marchenko says. “I just don’t know how I can ask Gronolf about details concerning the AI of the spaceship.”
Eve scratches the side of her head. “It’s obvious,” she says, “that the AI is not defective. Perhaps the parallels to Marchenko 2 are closer than we assume? What if the AI has rebelled against its creators?”
Marchenko raises his arm, allowing Gronolf to see the display again. Then he makes two giant frogs appear, and a huge cube which fires lasers at them.
“Yes,” Gronolf says, one of the words the alien learned yesterday. The drawing has worked.
“So,” Marchenko replies, which probably means ‘yes’ in the alien language.
Step 1 is behind them. Adam takes a deep breath. The problem has been identified—a recalcitrant AI. Now they only need a plan. Marchenko becomes active and draws the number 1 on the panel. The alien confirms the number by tracing it. Marchenko must have already taught him some basic numbers.
Gronolf steps up to the holo-map. He acts as if he would take the planet into his two touch-arms and carry it to the ship.
“That gesture is obvious—we have to fly there,” Adam says. The others nod.
“So,” Marchenko says.
Then Gronolf draws a 2 in the air and then by turns points at Marchenko and the ship, without moving from his position. Then he repeats two words several times: “Marchenko. Grunuko-to. Marchenko. Grunuko-to.”
“I have no idea what that word means,” Marchenko apologizes.
“Maybe he wants you to take over for the ship’s AI,” Eve suggests.
“Or I should disable it.”
“So,” Gronolf says.
“So,” Marchenko says.
“So,” the alien replies, and his eyelids jump wildly up and down. Adam watches him with his arms crossed. Now the alien does not look threatening anymore, even though he is much bigger and could stomp him with one foot.
Adam is about to suggest they start looking for a suitable vehicle for this mission, when Gronolf draws a 3 into the air. So the plan is supposed to have three parts?
“So,” Marchenko says, obviously to encourage him. Now the alien virtually takes the ship in both hands, zooms out of the image, and carries it to a binary star.
“Dutoka-so,” he says.
“Alpha Centauri,” Marchenko automatically translates, but Adam remembers the word. He has to sit down. Does Gronolf want to take them to his home world, once he regains control of the ship? That would be… Adam does not know what to think about it. A completely new world—and at the same time one in which they would spend the rest of their lives among giant frogs.
“Did you also interpret this as an offer to take us to Alpha Centauri?” he asks quietly.
“Looks like it,” Eve whispers.
May 10, 19, Marchenko
In theory the plan looks good: Travel to the Majestic Draght, convince the Omniscience to cooperate, and then leave. However, they lack an important tool—a means of transportation! Marchenko considers the options. Their vehicle does not have to be particularly fast, because their target is moving toward them. However, they would have more time on board the ‘Great Youth’ the sooner they reach the enormous ship. They picked a nice name, Marchenko thinks, even though he is not sure how correctly he translated it.
Perhaps Gronolf still has a rocket standing around in some hangar? The aliens must have landed here somehow. Marchenko tries to put his question in pictures. Now he is annoyed the screen on his arm isn’t larger. He alerts Gronolf to his attempt and has a few screen pixels fly back and forth between the planet and the spaceship.
“So-na,” the alien says, a negation, and he waves his two load arms to the side, which probably corresponds to shaking his head. Then he moves his right touch-arm to his shoulder and turns around. This probably indicates they should follow him. What is he up to?
Gronolf only walks a few steps and then stops at the chair where Marchenko found him this morning. He leads Marchenko directly in front of it and then pushes his shoulders down. Marchenko sits down obediently.
Gronolf touches a waist-high cabinet, from which a control panel folds out. He types in something. Suddenly a kind of cap falls from the bottom of the console. It is connected to the cabinet via several cables. Gronolf unfolds it and places it on the middle of his belly. It adapts perfectly to the shape. Is this some kind of diagnostic device, maybe for ultrasound? On the other hand, such a device would be out of place in the control center. Maybe it is able to transmit data,
like an EEG helmet. They still know too little about the aliens’ physiology. Marchenko automatically assumed their thinking organ was in the upper part of the torso, probably between the two arms, even though there is no head. However, there is no factual reason for that. There is space everywhere, and thinking requires little room.
Now Gronolf removes the soft cap from his belly. There is a snapping sound when he pulls it off his skin. He takes it in his touch-arms, examines it, checks the cable length, and stretches the material slightly. Then he gets up, steps in front of Marchenko, and carefully, almost reverently, places the cap on Marchenko’s belly.
I hope I won’t make a mistake now, Marchenko thinks. Whatever this object is for, nothing will happen if he just leaves it on his torso. Nevertheless, he waits for a minute. Maybe the thing is just meant to give him a pleasant massage, nothing else.
Nothing happens, and Gronolf seems to be getting nervous, as his front eye is blinking. The cap must have a different purpose, and the EEG function seems to be the most likely one. Marchenko can only find that out by testing it. The problem is that he is definitely not sensitive for the electromagnetic waves used to stimulate the alien’s nerves. The cap won’t function as an EEG helmet for him. He needs the original form of the data that Gronolf wants to transmit to him. First he would have to destroy the cap. Hopefully, there are no important alien religious or cultural ideas attached to it! Now that they are getting along so well with him, he rather not risk that. He also has no clue how to explain to Gronolf what he is planning to do.
It can’t be helped. Sometimes you have to take a risk if you want to get ahead. Marchenko takes the cap in one hand and the cable in the other. He suddenly rips the connection. Gronolf jumps up but does not say anything. Marchenko keeps his eyes on the alien’s dangerous load-arms. Yet the extraterrestrial allows him to proceed.
Marchenko examines the cable. It contains transparent fibers below a plastic-like covering. It seems to transfer data optically, in the form of light. Marchenko opens a flap on the left side of his torso. There the nano-fabricators have provided various inputs, including ones for optical signals. He will probably have to adapt them once the cable is connected with his body.
Proxima Dreaming Page 17
