“Eve? We should start moving away.”
I know that she is still examining the cuboid. She is really very patient. “On my way,” she says.
I can see the light from her helmet lamp. Eve climbs onto the sled and then we move away, perpendicular to the planned trajectory of the impact. I stop after half an hour.
“Ten kilometers,’ I say, “that should be enough.”
Eve gets out. I turn the sled so that the transport deck protects her. I will sit down in front of it, in order to give her additional protection. The majority of the material should be thrown forward and backward, at least according to my calculations. But it is better to be safe than sorry.
“Are you ready?” Messenger is already on its way. Right now, I could still send it back into orbit. I will be able to abandon the plan until shortly before impact. However, during the last few seconds Messenger will be unable to make it back into space and would crash elsewhere on the planet.
“Let's get started,” Eve says.
I send the decisive signal. Then I remember something we forgot. “Please tell me Adam is not wandering aimlessly through the crash area right now.”
“Certainly not. How could he have reached it? Adam is dead,” Eve says, quite calmly.
I hesitate. And what if he has somehow managed to survive? But that is nonsense. There was nothing in the vicinity that could have saved Adam. I don’t believe in miracles.
“Thanks, Eve,” I say. The approach vector of Messenger remains unchanged. The spaceship that brought us so far is currently experiencing its last minutes. With it, Eve’s hope of ever leaving Proxima b will die.
But that’s not all. The last tardigrades containing Adam and Eve’s DNA will also perish. While they could have continued to survive in space, they certainly won’t be able to withstand the heat of the impact. What if they do, though? Perhaps I just made a mistake and contaminated this planet with terrestrial life forms. On the other hand, in the strictest sense, this contamination already occurred when we landed. Together with the tardigrades, the sophisticated machinery—that which can create human embryos from the human DNA in their genome and can raise them—will be destroyed. I will not be able to create a third Eve or a third Adam. I never told the two of them they were the second human generation on board Messenger.
My memory plays strange tricks. The last few minutes of the spaceship are at hand, and I keep remembering things that will be lost forever. The Creator had set up a protected memory sector I suspect contains details about me and my fate. No matter. I haven’t needed it so far, so I will be able to make it in the future without this knowledge.
“What does it look like?” Eve asks.
“Eighty seconds. You are so calm.”
“Well, this time it feels odd. There is some insulating layer between me and reality. Maybe I got excited too often in the past.”
“Sixty seconds,” the system warns. Then it continues the countdown.
“Are we going to see Messenger?”
I briefly think about this question. “No, Eve,” I say then. “Only if there is a course correction using the engines. Doesn’t look like it, though.”
“Won’t the ship glow due to the quick descent?”
“It is not going that fast. It only will gain real speed during its final phase.”
“Twenty seconds,” the automatic system reports.
A roar approaches. It sounds like an airplane that is landing. The noise becomes louder and louder. I am controlling the trajectory. Everything is fine.
“Don’t worry, everything is according to plan,” I call out.
The roar is overlaid by a hissing sound. I hope Eve’s helmet keeps out the noise. The impact is about to happen. Messenger will first touch the ground a few hundred meters away from the tower. Now the ground is shaking. I experienced earthquakes back on Earth, but this feels quite different. It must be because of the ice. The ice makes a clinking sound. Fissures crackle through the surface. My calculations definitely showed there shouldn’t be any deep crevasses forming. Despite this I am still afraid. In my inner eye, I see a fissure opening and swallowing Eve.
The roar is gone. We only hear the hissing, mixed with a squeak. A strong gust of wind pushes the sled sideways. Just to be safe I hold on to the sled. The hissing turns into a bubbling noise that soon fades away. It is over. Messenger has landed. We have to hurry.
“I am turning the sled back to its original position,” I say.
“Please do,” Eve replies. She stands a few steps away. She quickly jumps aboard, and we race back the ten kilometers.
When we are back, Eve asks, “What happens if we get in, and later want to go out again?”
“The ice has been distributed in various directions,” I explain. “It is unlikely that the tower would once more completely disappear below the ice. But we don’t know how much of it will be covered.”
Here we are. Even if I had not saved the location, I would have recognized it by the sloping ice floor. It has worked even better than I expected. I shine my light downward. At the bottom of the valley I see a platform about 100 meters wide, with a rectangular structure on top. I trace the structure with my lamp and point it out to Eve.
“Up there is the cuboid we saw,” I inform her via the helmet radio.
“Yes, and do you see the pipe running down next to it?”
“Your barrel.”
Eve laughs. “It bends before reaching the platform and continues over there.” She points to the right.
“But I don’t see any doors,” I say.
“Let’s move closer.”
I hold on to Eve. “Just a moment, I am going to check the temperatures.” Everything looks fine in infrared. “Perfect, we can go.”
Eve races ahead. I want to ask her to be careful, but I suppress the impulse. I reach the bottom half a minute after her. I check the ice, but it seems to be stable. A dark wall looms in front of us. I examine its structure. “The same material as the cuboid.”
Eve moves toward the right. It is 150 meters in a straight line. Then she reaches the first corner. Eve stops. “From here on it slopes downward,” she says.
I see that the lake starts approximately halfway down. Cold fog rises in the light of my lamp. The lake is already starting to freeze again. “We can’t go on from here, Eve.” I am surprised she does not contradict me.
She seems to ponder this for a while. Then she says, “Please lift me up.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Did you see anything on the front side that could serve as an entrance?”
“No,” I admit.
“You see? Therefore the doors must be on top.”
“And if not?”
“What does it matter, Marchenko?”
Eve is right. I lift her so she can reach the platform. That is the next logical step. I use my third arm to pull myself up. Eve just stands there. She has taken off her helmet so she can better move the light of her lamp across the surface. I immediately notice her reason for doing so. On this surface, there is a grid of raised areas that remind me of trapdoors. Do they open? The rectangular structure, which we called the cuboid, sits a bit off to the side. It looks as if it had been added later.
“That really looks good,” I say.
Eve shakes her head. “I don’t know. There are too many of them.”
“Perhaps they were escape doors in case of emergency? Then you can never have too many exits.”
“But how many creatures would there be inside the tower, if they were to need that many doors?”
“We are going to see,” I reply. I already envision some kind of insect colony.
Eve slowly walks out on the platform. She stops in front of the first door. I follow her. “What now?” she asks.
I look around. “There must be an opening mechanism somewhere.”
“In a VR simulation we would now have to solve a puzzle, by combining patterns or something,” Eve says.
“That is nons
ense. If I built a tower, I wouldn’t put puzzles on the outside. Something more like a door handle or a keyhole.”
“Yes, I always found that unrealistic in those games. But it would be practical. We simply solve the puzzle and we are inside.”
“Let’s start by looking for some mechanisms, Eve. Or electronic devices. Or... whatever thingamajigs these creatures had.”
“I bet it is a mechanism. A lock that only works when energy is supplied would be useless in an emergency.”
I agree with Eve. “Perhaps the doors can only be opened from the inside.”
“That would not be very smart either,” she says as she continues walking toward the center of the platform. “What if you were outside and in danger?”
I focus on the door in front of me. It is a massive metal plate, about five centimeters thick. “We could use a drill if we have to.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Eve replies. “Come on over.”
I follow her request. Eve is located about three meters from the center of the platform, and she is pointing down. Some kind of circle has been etched into the floor here.
“What do you see in the circle?” I ask.
“The circle is actually a disc. Take a look at the material. It sits flush on the ground. I bet it can be turned.”
“How did you get that idea?”
“The hole there,” she says, pointing at a hole close to the outer edge with a diameter of about five centimeters.
I examine it. It is deeper than the thickness of the disk. Too primitive to be a keyhole.
“I think this is simpler than we think,” Eve says. “Do you have anything you can stick into the hole? We can probably use it to move the disk.”
I take a look at my body. The third arm! It should work if I use three fingers simultaneously. I try to move the disk this way, but it won’t budge.
Eve laughs. “You have to step off the disk first.”
Oh, Marchenko, it has been a long day. I move to the side, stick my fingers into the opening, and try to turn the disk. It does not turn counter-clockwise, but when I push it clockwise, something happens. I hear a scraping sound spreading across the entire surface. What could this mean?
“Go on, Marchenko.”
Great, I think, and continue to turn the disk. 30 degrees, 60 degrees, 80 degrees. As I am approaching 90 degrees, the scraping sound is supplemented by a clicking noise. It sounds as if something is being released. I imagine a crossbow that soon will be fired.
“Just a little bit more,” Eve says. I turn the disk to 90 degrees. Behind me I can hear a crack. I see Eve flinch. The next crack. I throw her to the ground and place myself protectively above her, being careful not to crush her. One more crack, then another. I continue to count but stop at 100. Besides the loud noises, nothing happens. From below, Eve knocks against my chest. I let her get up.
“Just look!” she cries, starting to jump up and down. “We made it, we were successful, finally!” I haven’t seen Eve this happy for a long time. Every door in three of the four quadrants has opened. We can finally enter this alien building. I take a look at the disk. Turning it probably moved a number of connecting rods that released the springs of the doors, a clever device for an emergency, as it can be triggered centrally without electricity.
Eve walks to one of the doors. I worry she might try to climb down immediately, but she stops and bends down. I aim both searchlights into the opening. A spiral path leads downward, like a staircase, but without stairs.
“Can you smell that?” Eve asks. She briefly takes off her helmet to be totally sure.
“I could analyze it,” I say.
“That’s not necessary,” Eve replies. “It stinks horribly of dirt and decay.”
“Probably hasn’t been cleaned in a long time,” I say.
“No, I don’t think simple lack of cleaning would produce such a stench. Something much worse must have happened here.”
Now Eve is about to use the entrance in front of her. I grab her arm. “Let’s think about this first.”
“I thought we were in a hurry.”
“The doors are open, so this is the perfect opportunity to take a break and think things over.”
“Fine. What is your problem?”
“We don’t know what awaits us in there. Take a look at this kind of staircase. Perhaps it is a slide. You climb inside and you are gone. It contains 15 million cubic meters, don’t forget that! I would never find you again.”
I can see my words bother her.
“We are going to descend, linked by a rope. But we also will need some rules in case we get separated.”
“And what would those be?” asks Eve.
“There is an unknown labyrinth below us, even if it might look less confusing later on. You don’t know the logic the builders used. If we get separated, we will always turn left. That is important. If you have the choice between up and down, always choose down.”
“Why not up? Then we’ll never find the exit again.”
“We don’t know anything about the builder. Perhaps you are not even big enough to take the way leading upward.”
“Sure, I can always get down.”
“I would also like to pack you some food and water. Water can be very important. We are no longer on the ice shelf. Who knows whether we can find water in there?”
“Sounds very reasonable,” Eve says.
“So you will wait here, while I get supplies from the sled?”
“I promise not to move a single centimeter.”
I turn around. It is going to take me ten minutes to reach the sled. “I will be back in 20 minutes. Don’t—”
“... go anywhere, I know,” Eve says. I hurry across the platform at top speed and race up the slope. The sled stands where I left it. I pack the necessary things. I put some of it in a small pack Eve can carry, and pack another one three times its size to put on my back. I really hope we won’t get separated inside that building.
It takes me 16 minutes, then I climb the platform again. Eve is nowhere to be seen. I call her via my helmet radio. She appears behind one of the doors.
“Sorry,” she says. “I just tried to press the latch down. Not a chance.”
“The springs must be very strong. They were probably built for eternity.”
“I would like to know whether the inhabitants would have had a chance to get out of the tower while it was covered by ice,” Eve says.
“If they thought of heating the surface, then they definitely could.”
I hand her the backpack and Eve puts it on. “Let me guess what you have in your backpack,” she says.
“More food and water for you, that’s obvious.”
“Marchenko, in case we lose sight of each other and cannot meet again, I really appreciate everything you have done for me. I am sorry if I did not always express this clearly.”
That is nice of her. Suddenly I feel all warm. “It is much too early for a farewell,” I say.
May 1, 19
Right after Marchenko had given her the backpack yesterday, Eve yawned loudly. Almost simultaneously they had checked the time and determined that a break was a necessity.
“One night in the tent, okay?” Eve had asked, and Marchenko nodded. She could see he was relieved. To be on the safe side, they had placed the tent on the platform, so that they could jump into the entrances in case of emergency.
The grace period is over. Eve feels well-rested and eager for adventure. She has no clue how Marchenko is feeling. Sometimes it bothers her that she knows so little about him, while at other times she does not care. After all, he is old enough to start a conversation with her if he wants to talk about himself. She is not his nanny.
Eve crawls out of the tent. Marchenko is walking around between the rows of rectangular entrances. He has placed three spotlights covering the entire platform.
“Are you looking for something?” she asks via helmet radio.
“The ideal entrance.”
“Di
d you find it?”
“Sadly, no. Each ramp looks just the same as the others. I cannot detect any differences.”
“So we just go down somewhere?”
“In terms of strategy, I thought we should use an entrance in the middle.”
“Why, Marchenko?”
“The most important structures are often located in the center of buildings. That way they are better protected. I assume that the entrances will lead to different parts of the tower.”
“Of course that might be true... or not.”
“Yes, Eve, perhaps all paths somehow lead to a central chamber.”
“So you might say you made a decision based on emotion.”
“I rather prefer ‘strategy’ as the term to use.”
Eve laughs, takes the backpack from the tent entrance, puts it on and walks toward Marchenko. “Then let’s get started,” she says.
“Did you have a hearty breakfast?”
“Just stop it, Marchenko, I want to get going.”
“Okay, let me attach the cord.” Marchenko takes a rope he has wrapped loosely around his waist and uses a snap hook to attach it to Eve’s tool belt. Then he points at a relatively central entrance. “Let’s go down there!”
Eve stands in front of the central entrance. A fixed spotlight shines into the rectangular hole. A spiral ramp starts leading downward about a meter below her, similar to the one she saw at the other door. She casts a glance at Marchenko and jumps down. She lands with a thud.
Eve looks around and scrapes the ground with her right foot. The path is covered with a non-slip surface. The passage leading down is so high that even Marchenko, with his height of more than two meters, won’t bump his head. The creatures for whom this path was designed must not have been much smaller than is J the Robot. That is the first piece of good news. But the idea of having to crawl through narrow corridors for days still makes a shiver run down her spine.
Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction Page 37
