“Yes, Eve. From what I’ve heard, that was the only thing you could do.”
“I could have simply dropped the weapon.”
“If wishes were horses...”
“Beggars would ride,” Eve finishes. “Yeah, I thought about that same proverb several times today.”
She doesn’t ask Adam whether he thought it was right of Marchenko to cut power to the impostor, as she already knows his answer.
In the control room Eve shows the helmet to the alien. Gronolf sits in his chair, staring at the general with one eye, looking at her with another and aiming the third at a console. Eve points to the cracked visor. He massages his knees with his strong but coarse load-hands. He points at the exit with a touch-hand, then jumps up and almost bowls Eve over.
Gronolf returns soon afterward with some foil. First he uses his load-hand to break off the remaining glass. He simply drops the shards. Then he briefly pushes the foil below the skin fold covering the pit of his stomach, probably to moisten it, and then he presses it firmly against the edge of the helmet. He counts to seven with the fingers of his other hand and then gives her the helmet. The foil seems to stick. Does it seal the inside completely?
She hands the helmet to Adam. “Put it on.”
Adam does what she asks. “The tip of my nose hits the foil, but otherwise it is fine.”
“Do you think it is airtight?”
“Hard to say. I would have to test it.” Adam blows against the foil, then he takes off the helmet and pushes against it with his fingers. The foil does not rip. “It should definitely withstand half an atmosphere of pressure within the suit,”
“Fine. My suit is near the sleeping chambers.”
Eve stands up and touches Gronolf’s load-arm near the shoulder. She points at the miniature display of the building and says: “Sleeping chamber!”
“Leeping chamber?”
“Sleeping chamber!”
“Leeping chamber?” Gronolf scratches between his legs. Then he rubs his touch-hands. “Leeping chamber!” He points at the wall.
At first Eve thinks he misunderstood her, but then a hidden door opens there. “An elevator,” she says with a smile. Now they won’t have to climb through the long, dark corridor.
“Alavatar,” Gronolf confirms. “Retoko-tu!”
“Retoko-tu,” Adam replies while Eve enters the compartment. It has enough room for at least three aliens. But she can’t find any buttons to operate it. Gronolf seems to have noticed her confusion and joins them. He apparently speaks a command in ultrasound—she doesn’t hear anything, but the elevator starts moving. Or, she wonders, maybe it only has one destination.
As if Gronolf read her thoughts, the doors soon open in the tall hall with the sleeping chambers. It looks very different here all of a sudden, Eve thinks. It must be the light emanating directly from the walls. She pulls Adam with her to the wall where she left the lower part of her suit. Gronolf doesn’t say anything, but he follows them slowly. She briefly turns around to him. He looks like a bored adult who was given the job of watching a few playing children.
The suit is still there. Eve expected that, but even so she feels a sense of relief. Together they carry it back to the elevator. It would have been so much simpler if they had better understood the alien technology!
Eve wants to enter the cabin, but Gronolf gently pushes her back out with a touch-hand. “Retoko-na!” he says, “Alavatar later.”
What does he want from them? Panic rises in her. Is he going to take his revenge because she killed his sleeping comrades? She has to calm down. Her cheeks must be flushed by now. In the almost glaring light that would be all too visible. Adam is giving her a puzzled look. He missed that part of the story.
“I think I know what he wants,” Eve says to Adam.
“Will you tell me?”
“I... I can’t.”
“What’s wrong with you, Eve? You look like you are in a total panic!”
She jerks back. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is. So, what is going on? Did I miss something? Did something embarrassing happen to you? No,” he says as he looks at her, “it is worse.”
“You will see it soon, I believe.”
Gronolf leads the way. He stops every few meters and waits for them. Eve tries to interpret his behavior, but that is impossible. She also does not dare to ask questions. Does Gronolf look more angry than usual? Has he polished his weapon? They are slowly walking along the rising path by the wall. When they reach the first sleeping chambers, Adam presses his face against the windows, out of sheer curiosity. She pulls him back.
“What is it? Did you see that? They all look like Gronolf.”
“Yes, I know,” she says. “Those are sleeping chambers. There are thousands like him here.”
“So it’s no wonder he wants to save this building.”
“But we knew that beforehand.”
“Still, seeing it with one’s own eyes is different. Why didn’t you show this to me earlier?”
“I... well, we just met each other again!”
Adam does not pressure her any further. However, he still looks into every third or fourth sleeping chamber. Gronolf does not seem to mind and lets them do what they want.
Because we are about to die? The question pops unbidden into Eve’s mind. No, I have to stop thinking about that.
They move up level by level. Eve tries to remember. Where was the chamber with the dead Grosnop again? It can’t have been too far from the ground floor. Yet it is not her memory but her sense of smell that tells her they are approaching the ‘crime scene.’ The smell has definitively gotten worse. Eve wants to hold her nose, but she simply can’t do it. She has to tolerate the disgusting odor. And isn’t there a sour smell in the air, too, from the leftovers of her own stomach contents? She looks around on the floor to avoid stepping into her own vomit. This way she can at least distract herself from what is about to come.
“Man, what a stench,” Adam says. He pinches his nose with his thumb and index finger. Gronolf marches on calmly, as far as she can tell. Or is he showing his anger by repeatedly moving his huge rear eyelid up and down in a fast rhythm? What does it mean that his touch-arms are interlaced and that one of his load-arms taps against the window of each chamber while he is moving, causing an unpleasant noise?
“Is this going to take a long time?”
Sometimes she could just wring Adam’s neck. “We are almost there, I think,” she replies.
And indeed, Gronolf stops soon afterward. Eve sees that he stands near the couch of an open chamber. She knows what is going to be on the couch, even though the light dazzles her a bit.
Adam walks around Gronolf to get a better look. “Well,” he says, “I expected more.”
More? Three corpses, or a hundred? Adam must be really sick, Eve thinks. She steps next to the other side of Gronolf and turns pale. The couch is empty. Gronolf leans on it with his load-arm. He untangles his touch-arms, wraps the right one almost completely around his body and aims at himself.
“Gronolf,” he says.
So this must have been Gronolf’s sleeping chamber. Eve feels hot and knows her face must be beet-red.
“What did you expect?” Adam asks. She does not answer.
Gronolf gets down on his knees. Is this a kind of prayer? Then he starts rummaging below the couch and inside the chamber with all of his arms. How stupid of her! The alien is looking for something! He probably took something with him into the chamber before going to sleep.
After two minutes he utters a dull sound and gets up. He is holding a flat, silver-colored object in his left touch-hand. He holds it in front of each of his four eyes in turn. Then he holds it closer to Adam and Eve without letting go of it. He presses a button she had not noticed before and the object flips open like a jewel case. Eve tries to see what is inside. Finally she realizes what Gronolf was looking for. Inside the case there is a three-dimensional image, a hologram, showing another Grosnop.
&nb
sp; “Murnaka,” Gronolf says. “Murnaka!” he screams.
For about ten minutes the alien stands almost motionlessly beside the couch, then suddenly starts walking. He does not go back, but further upward. In spite of the warmth, Eve is starting to shiver. She had hoped to be spared this embarrassment.
Now Gronolf is walking more slowly than before. He seems more content, as if he had already reached his destination and was only taking a casual stroll. She knows that perception must be wrong. The stench becomes stronger and stronger. And there it is. The next chamber is open. Eve sees from afar that this couch is not empty. Gronolf calmly walks toward the corpse. What might this sight mean for him? Eve slows down with every step. Yet one touch-arm waves her closer and the other one leads Adam until they both stand next to Gronolf and in front of the corpse disfigured by putrefaction.
“Rugnar,” Gronolf says. This sounds like a name. He must have been an important man, Eve thinks automatically, and then she corrects herself—important Grosnop. Tears stream down her face.
“Hey,” Adam says. He comes closer and places a hand on her shoulder.
“I killed him,” Eve sobs.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What do you even know? You weren’t there.” She pushes his hand off her shoulder and then regrets it. It’s not his fault. “Sorry.”
“Rugnar,” Gronolf says again, this time a bit louder. He folds his hands.
“Please,” he says in English. The lid of the eye facing them is moving up and down again and again. “Please,” he repeats.
Now Eve realizes what he might be trying to do, and she places her two hands in his four. Adam does the same.
“Thank you,” Gronolf says.
“Rugnar,” Eve answers, and Adam repeats the name.
May 11, 19, Marchenko
If the Majestic Draght does not change its speed, it will reach Messenger, and him, by midnight. Navigation in space reminds Marchenko of a roulette table in a casino, and he is the little ball. The wheel is turning faster, moving his orbit outward, and near him there is a much larger wheel in which a sphere the size of a soccer ball is rotating, instead of a small roulette ball. When the roulette ball and the soccer ball meet, he will have won the grand prize. It is almost impossible that this could happen by accident, but of course he is more than a roulette ball: Marchenko can determine how fast his wheel is turning and thus match his trajectory to that of the soccer ball. As long as that soccer ball does not upset his plans, they will rendezvous in a few hours.
The body he will need then is already lying on the floor of the cabin. It is connected to the wall by cables and receives energy that way. His body is approximately as alive as a human in a persistent vegetative state. It can receive environmental signals, but cannot process them or react to them until his consciousness indwells it. Marchenko could use remote control to move it, but the body is not capable of autonomous motion. Nevertheless, the subsystems work, the cooling system keeps it at operating temperature, moving parts are lubricated, and the outer surfaces clean themselves.
Marchenko has created a technological marvel. The body weighs much less than a human being, but it is much more durable. Cold and vacuum cannot harm it, nor can a certain level of radiation or heat. It is not indestructible, as otherwise the body would have become too heavy and inflexible. He had instead constructed it in such a way that it can move quickly to evade dangers. Its sensors work in all wavelengths and it can process warning signals without its owner—Marchenko—having to be aware of it. There would be few obstacles which could stop this body for long, no enemy who could surprise it.
He still pities it a bit, though. The way the body is lying there reminds him of a slave. Soon Marchenko’s mind will take control of it, but unlike the soul of a human being, he is not irreversibly linked to it no matter what. If an enemy pulverized this body with a nuclear explosion, that would also be Marchenko’s last moment. Yet as long as the body is not completely destroyed, he can leave it at any time—for instance, to flee to Messenger. How does that affect his consciousness and his human status? Should he suppress his humanity for now in order not to limit his objective decision-making ability?
Adam and Eve are doing fine, he thinks. They don’t have to worry about such issues, as they don’t have a choice, and that protects them. On the other hand, there were enough individuals in human history who behaved most inhumanely. Life is complicated, and it does not get any simpler the more freedom you have. He should really appreciate his freedom, which is more comprehensive than any other member of humanity enjoys, yet he catches himself being discontent and sullen.
His body is ready and the time has come to switch into it. Marchenko once more roams through space, drifts, enjoys the solar wind on his virtual skin... and then starts the transfer. He will be dead for several seconds. He feels goosebumps on his arms, even though he does not possess arms anymore. During the transmission he is neither here nor there. His thoughts are frozen and time stands still. It is a critical moment. If something were to go wrong, it could be his end.
Activate transmission, he thinks.
A few seconds pass on Messenger. Huge amounts of data move at the speed of light, tiny vibrations of photons pass through fiber-optic cables, into his new body where they are unpacked and installed. When Marchenko awakens again, he still feels an echo of his last thought before the transfer.
He immediately checks the data integrity. No errors. Marchenko is relieved. The data connection to Messenger is still active, offering a way out if his body should not work as expected. He tests one limb at a time. Feet, legs, hands and arms, everything is working as planned. The nano-fabricators have performed well.
Marchenko gets up. A brief wobble: The algorithms need a moment to balance his unevenly-distributed mass. Now nothing should be able to knock me over.
Marchenko looks around. The orbital module seems smaller than it used to be, yet still pleasingly familiar. There are two smaller seats and a larger one. Marchenko walks to the smaller ones and sniffs them. His olfactory sense is working, but he can’t smell anything. He had hoped to detect traces of Adam or Eve, but that’s nonsense. His children never sat in this orbital module. If Marchenko 2 did not lie about them, his two children died from the effects of a flare when they were very young. It is quite shocking that his alter ego nevertheless followed the plans so strictly. The two seats, for example, would never have served a purpose, yet Marchenko 2 built them. He must have really been in despair.
“Marchenko to base,” he says via the radio transmitter.
Nobody replies. Did something happen, or are they all asleep? He cannot help but worry.
“Marchenko to base,” he repeats.
No answer. Perhaps nobody can react right now. There are only three of them. He should not worry, as most likely everything is okay. Yet he checks the sensors of Messenger to see whether they recorded anything unusual coming from the planet. But there is nothing.
He waits for five minutes. Time seems to stretch. Marchenko walks through the tiny cabin on his two new legs.
Then he reactivates the radio transmitter. “Marchenko to base.”
“This is Adam.”
He feels relieved.
“Sorry, we were busy just then. What’s up?”
“What is going on over there, Adam?”
“Nothing much. And with you?”
“The transfer into my new body worked perfectly. Messenger is on course and we will encounter the alien ship shortly after midnight.”
“Good, then we will talk later.”
“Say hello to the others.”
“I will do that.”
Adam interrupts the connection. That is strange, and Marchenko is still concerned. What is wrong with Adam? Should he worry about him? Are there any conflicts he is not aware of? Is it related to Marchenko 2? He starts pacing the cabin again, until he notices what he is doing. That’s useless, he thinks, I have to stop this. Gronolf is watching over Adam and Eve, so th
at is not his job. He has to take care of the Omniscience. Marchenko sits down in the larger seat and connects himself to the ship’s sensors.
May 12, 19, Marchenko
A shiny cube rotates in space in front of him. Marchenko had imagined the Majestic Draght appearing darker and more menacing, probably due to its representation on the holo-map. It looks just like a giant die without any dots, slowly rolling through space. The ship’s hull is not smooth—it is made up of cells that are clearly demarcated. There are so many that Marchenko’s first impression is that of a coating consisting of small gems. This is probably due to the fact that the sides, made of multiple metals, reflect the light of the warm yellow sun, and the image of the illuminated planet below them, in all directions.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
This was spoken by the alien. By now, Marchenko is translating his words automatically. Gronolf, who is in the shelter building, has tapped into the data stream sent by Messenger’s sensors.
“She is beautiful. Your people created a masterpiece.”
“The design is the work of one of our most famous architects.”
“In my world, spaceships are not designed.” Marchenko thinks of the practical but ugly vessels crisscrossing the solar system. One would not even have called ILSE beautiful, even though she was the most expensive spaceship ever built up to that time. “the thinking is that shape does not matter in space,” he adds.
“We believe that it is easier to fulfill a mission if a warrior is proud of what he is doing.”
“Pride is a tricky subject on Earth,” Marchenko says. “We will have to talk about it some other time. What’s next?”
“Do you see the central axis? The shell of the cube rotates in such a way that the axis stays in the same position. That offers you the best entrance point.”
“I can see it.” Marchenko mentally marks the point and calculates an appropriate course. An optical cable linked to the ship systems sticks out through the surface of his right hand like an IV needle. This way he can react faster, as the wireless data capacity is limited. “Messenger will take ten minutes,” he tells Gronolf.
Proxima Dreaming Page 20
