Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Easy for you to say,” she replies aloud. Her voice echoes in the tall room. Then she starts walking, her view aimed forward at the wall shimmering in reddish tones. During the walk she estimates the size of her environment. What can be seen from the outside of the building in which she now finds herself does not match the long distances she has to cover inside. The inside of the building seems to be larger than its outside. Would Marchenko have an explanation for this?

  The reddish gleam on the wall in front of her gains more detail by the minute. Soon she recognizes lines, then shapes. They are regular hexagons, honeycombs distributed across the entire wall. Some are additionally crossed by a dark line that seems to stretch over the whole wall. The honeycombs still don’t emit visible light, she can only see them in infrared.

  Eve’s chest abruptly collides with an obstacle. “Whoa!” she utters in surprise. She stumbles but manages to stay upright. What was that? Standing up, she feels her way forward. Her right hand finds a bar about five centimeters thick that seems to run parallel to the wall. She feels her way along it for a little while, until she encounters a pole of the same diameter. She checks the area below the bar, but there is nothing there.

  This must be some kind of railing, designed to stop the movement of persons of a size similar to hers. Therefore there must be something the railing is meant to protect them from. Eve cautiously moves her foot below the bar and feels around with it. At a distance of about 20 centimeters, her foot reaches empty space. Thanks, railing.

  She sits down and nervously pulls the universal device from her pocket. She turns up the brightness of the screen, leans forward, and tries to see something in the light of the display. Her foot was right. There is a shaft, and it is so deep she cannot see its bottom. It seems to reach all the way to the wall, and it is about ten meters wide.

  The honeycomb structures continue downward. Now Eve can estimate the size of the honeycombs. They are approximately two meters tall and wide. Now she counts how many rows there are. She has to stop at 90 because the view gets blurry. This means the shaft is at least 90 meters deep. However, she estimates the depth to be much greater, maybe something like 500 meters.

  Eve stands up carefully. Now she is really glad she can hold onto the railing. On the other hand, she would like to investigate the honeycomb structures. Might there be a way leading into the shaft? She follows the railing to the right. Here she can almost touch the honeycombs, yet they are out of her reach. If she had not suddenly learned to perceive infrared radiation, she would see only blackness in front of her the whole time. Isn’t that a strange coincidence?

  She remembers how her gills became noticeable shortly before she would have drowned. Her body seems to be programmed to reveal its special abilities only under extreme stress. Technically it should be no problem to have it react to the increased release of stress hormones. When she thinks of being alone in the dark without any light, the idea still makes a shiver run down her spine. Could there be more abilities hidden inside her? It is an odd feeling—she always thought of knowing every aspect of her body, but then it suddenly reveals surprising capabilities. Eve feels estranged from herself, which is an unpleasant feeling.

  She stops her musings. Right now, there are more important problems to solve. She shakes the bar of the railing with all her strength. The metal does not move. It is strange how such an object can give her a sense of security. Then she sees that the honeycombs end a few meters away. The side wall of the hall must be there.

  Just as if on cue the railing now ends. The bar she is holding onto makes a 90-degree turn and then points downward at an angle. There is probably a slow descent waiting for her, but Eve does not want to rely on that. She kneels down, takes out her universal device, and shines it at the floor ahead. And indeed she has a broad path in front of her, that—as far as the weak light of the display reaches—leads past the honeycomb-covered wall into the abyss. This must be—as seen from the side—the thin line she noticed earlier. The path down seems to be made from a very thin material.

  Eve slowly pulls herself up on the railing. She adjusts the backpack that had slid to one side when she knelt down, and then she starts walking. Her path first leads toward the wall with the honeycomb-like structures and then once again makes a 90-degree turn to the left. This time Eve does not bother to check whether there is an abyss in front of her. She trusts in the function of the railing. The descent leads her directly past the honeycomb-like structures.

  Eve lets go of the railing in order to take a closer look at the honeycombs. She stands directly in front of the wall and moves her hand over it. She can feel the temperature differences with her fingers. The walls outlining the structures are significantly warmer than the hexagonal surfaces within them. The surface she touches is smooth, but there is a round bump where she sees warm lines. She traces the lines with her fingernail. Could there be a hairline crack in the middle of the line?

  In the center of each structure, though, the surface feels surprisingly cool. She exhales toward it and the moisture in her breath promptly condenses. There is a squeaking sound when she wipes away the water. Then she walks down a few more meters, to investigate another honeycomb. She is not surprised when she notices no differences. Yet this does not solve the mystery. What is the function of this design? Is it purely ornamental, as a geometric pattern? Or is there some technology behind it? If there is a technical background, then there must be some way to influence it: a control panel or another kind of interface.

  How might the inhabitants have seen their environment? A control panel for bats would look different from an interface for hippos, or one for flounders. All she knows of the inhabitants of Proxima b is that they were slightly taller than most humans, at least if the corridors were designed for them. She can only hope they had a visual sense and extremities. Otherwise, she might not even recognize a control panel for the local technology.

  Eve leans against the wall and briefly closes her eyes in order to think. There is a dripping sound somewhere. She opens her eyes again. She carefully moves away from the honeycomb-like structure until her hands feel the railing at the edge of the path down. Once again she counts the honeycombs. The area is so large that its operation must be centralized. Otherwise one would need hundreds of individuals to push all of the possible buttons. So far, she has not encountered a single one. She is already assuming that the honeycombs fulfill some function. But what if they just serve as decorations or lighting elements? Perhaps she will never find out.

  Eve ventures into the depths, holding onto the railing with one hand. Whenever the walkway has covered the entire width of the wall it makes a 180-degree turn and follows the wall closely again afterward. The deeper she gets, the warmer and more humid the air becomes. This does not seem logical to her, since she knows warm air should rise, and the warmer it gets, the drier it should feel, as it can absorb more water. This means the source of heat and moisture must be located at the bottom of the abyss. Now and then Eve glances down over the railing. At some distance down below she clearly detects a reddish glow. She repeatedly examines the honeycombs, always with the same result.

  After a while it gets noticeably brighter. So far, it is purely radiated heat, no visible light, but she can already discern the outlines of the entire shaft. The bottom is covered with dark spots. Eve suspects they are puddles of water that evaporates from the surface, thus cooling the remaining liquid.

  The path ends in an unspectacular manner. In the glow of thermal radiation down here she can even detect the metal railing, which appears to be a good thermal conductor. The bar of the railing sinks into the floor, which is hard and without a discernible structure. How could she manage here without her new sense? The one important disadvantage is she can only recognize things associated with temperature differences. She is not like a bat that can use echolocation to map the world all around it. Where there are no honeycomb structures to be seen, the walls of the shaft look completely uniform to her. This doesn’t me
an, though, that there is nothing to find here. There is only one possibility. She must continue feeling the areas with her hands. She hopes she won’t once again activate some dangerous mechanism while doing so.

  Eve starts her tactile investigation at the wall on the opposite side, at the base of the ramp. To her, that would be the most logical place for installing a control panel. She raises her arms to head height and cautiously touches the surface with her hands. Then she systematically brushes across the area, from left to right and then, slightly lower, from right to left. Eve is startled when, at about chest height, her fingers come across a horizontal bumped-out line, the edge of something protruding perhaps five millimeters from the otherwise-flat wall.

  She had hoped to find something... but not really expected it. She feels around the edge, following it to the left first, then to the right. It seems to be approximately two meters wide. Moving back to her left, and then again to the right, Eve feels a right-angle bend, a corner, at either side. The edge then continues down to the floor. Is this some kind of door? But how can she open it? She tries pushing against the right side, but nothing happens. Then she uses more force, now pushing on the left, top, and bottom—each time without success.

  She investigates the edge again. Is there a groove she can open with a sharp object? She doesn’t find anything. What now? Eve takes a deep breath. Then she places her ear against the wall and starts tapping the area. The sound is not the same everywhere, but that doesn’t help her. The door, or whatever it is, does not reveal its secret. Would Marchenko be able to help her by finding the lock with his X-ray vision? She knows the question is irrelevant. She is all alone.

  She pushes harder still. Her muscles cramp and protest against the growing pain. Perhaps she simply needs more strength. If the inhabitants are significantly taller and heavier than she is, the door would be adapted to that fact. She kicks the door with her boots, but except for dull echoes there is no reaction. Then she walks a short distance up the path, gets a running start, and hits the wall at full speed.

  Nothing. Ouch!

  She can’t do anything else. She has failed.

  Either she has overlooked something obvious, or the door—if it is a door—can only be opened by a very different method. Perhaps she has to say ‘open sesame’ in the Proximan language, or her body has to emit a specific scent, or she must tap a certain rhythm. She could accept something like that, as it means she never had a chance to begin with. It would also be okay if this door really isn’t a door and therefore cannot be opened. That would be okay. It would be annoying, though, if she were to find out later that she had just overlooked an obvious switch, even if she might never know because she will starve to death down here in the shaft.

  Eve puts her backpack on the ground, then takes off the upper part of her suit and carefully places it on top of the backpack. Nevertheless, she continues to sweat. She leans with her back against the wall and feels how wet her T-shirt is.

  Searching for an opening mechanism has tired her out. She slowly slides down to her knees. Just as she is about to close her eyes, a feeling pops up. Something is wrong here. It is not even a thought, just a slight hunch. Suddenly she is wide awake. What is bothering her about this situation? Had she overlooked something she’d briefly glimpsed from the corner of her eye?

  She slaps her hand against her knee. How could she be so stupid? The answer is right behind her. She slid down the wall without feeling any friction. That part of the wall must have moved downward with her. The door is open! Or there must at least be an opening on top. Eve moves away from the wall, gets up, and turns around. There is nothing to see. The area is as jet black as before. She does not dare extend her hand. What a disappointment it would be if she felt a wall again!

  Eve has to force herself and command the muscles of her right arm to move her forearm, centimeter by centimeter, until her fingers meet cool steel. An electric shock hits her, or at least it feels like that, though not a single electron flowed. She has found something! She frantically searches for an edge. The door must be halfway closed, because she only slid down to her knees. And she indeed finds a border extending across the space in the wall and it can be pushed down with little effort. She lowers the entire door into the floor. Ha!

  Her fingers move over the floor. What she feels is not a passageway, but neither is it a simple wall. With her fingertips she senses patterns, symbols, signs. The entire area beyond the door appears to be covered by something like braille. Eve’s fingers move over the small raised spots. She does not understand anything, but she is excited. Then she notices tiny crevices between the symbols. This could mean that each symbol is a button of its own. She tries to concentrate on one of them. The symbols are small, a fact that does not match the large, four-fingered hands of the Proxima b inhabitants she imagined based on the indentations in the egg. The icon on which her right index finger rests consists of a circle, with a dot in the middle. If that isn’t an invitation! She slightly presses her fingertip against it, and the icon briefly moves inward, before moving back out, as if pushed by a spring mechanism.

  Eve is shocked to suddenly see her own shadow. She spins around. She has to hold her hand up to shield her eyes, which are now adapted to the darkness. A yellow light is visible about 30 meters above her. She turns around again. In the glow of the new light she discovers a large control panel in front of her. The number of symbols is impressive. If each symbol has a key of its own, then there are significantly more keys than honeycomb structures on the wall.

  She takes a closer look at the icons. There is a kind of frame that contains something almost like continuous text, though it is only five centimeters wide. The largest part of the control panel consists of repetitious sets. Three keys. She has already tried out the first one in a triad—the circle with the dot. The second in each set looks like two equilateral triangles connected at their tips. The third one resembles a reversed S.

  Eve once more turns toward the wall with the honeycomb cells. The lamp she had activated with that first key now seems rather dim. It only seemed so brilliant at first because her eyes were so used to darkness. It shines with a warm, yellow light. Eve runs up the path until she reaches the lamp. It is located in the upper part of the honeycomb and cannot be distinguished from the rest of the surface. Here the wall shines with a yellow light, that’s all. Nothing else has changed. Eve walks back down to the control panel. Unfortunately she does not remember which specific key she pressed. Therefore she tries another circle but keeps her finger on the key. Once again a light is turned on. This time it is considerably higher up. It is blue, with a violet tinge. Then she presses the same key again. The light goes out. On-Off. A very practical method. It is only logical that other intelligent beings would use this.

  But what do the two other keys mean? Eve is afraid of triggering something she cannot control. Yet she has nothing to lose. Being able to turn lamps on and switch them off again won’t get her any further. She wants something to happen. Therefore she presses another circle symbol. It also activates a lamp, one with a more truly-violet hue than the second one. Now the coordinate system used by the panel becomes clear. Up is down and left is right. The visual perception of the Proxima b inhabitants must, for some reason, switch directions. It shouldn’t be a problem for her brain, as humans can adapt to a mirror showing the sides of the body reversed. It would have been practical, though, if she could find out which keys she had already pressed. There are probably charts at the side of the panel that could provide this information, if she could only understand them.

  Time for the second type of key, the one with the two triangles. Eve selects a position on the upper right, so something should be happening at the bottom left—near her. She presses the key and tries to remember its location. The key follows the impulse provided by her fingertip and then moves toward her again. Eve lets her finger rest on it. That was a wise decision, because at first glance nothing seems to have changed. Therefore she also activates the respectiv
e lamp by pressing the circle key. She turns toward the wall with the honeycombs. Now a new yellow light shines there, in approximately the fourth row from the floor.

  Eve has to walk up the twisting path to reach the level of this honeycomb. When she turns around the corner she can see what happened—the surface of the honeycomb is now translucent. From inside, white light with a strong blueish tinge falls on the path in front of it. She slowly approaches, torn between fear and curiosity. From a distance of two meters she notices a kind of chamber behind the transparent surface. She is hurrying now, because she has a hunch about what to expect.

  Inside the chamber is a flat couch covered by a white material. On it lies an alien creature. It can only be one of the inhabitants of Proxima b. Eve is fascinated and repelled at the same time. The creature, whatever gender it may be, looks horribly ugly at first glance. As she suspected, the being is larger than a human. She estimates the body length to be 220 centimeters. It is hard to say, though, because the creature has tucked its legs close up against the body.

  The body is ungainly and sack-like, with green skin dotted by brown spots. It must be heavy, as the legs look extremely muscular. Their shape indicates they are perfect for jumping. Perhaps the creature is remotely related to the mini-frogs that attacked them when they crossed the mountains. Eve knows the term ‘frog’ is misleading, because the being certainly has much less in common with Earth’s frogs than humans do.

  It possesses four arms. Two of them look strong but short. They consist of only one joint each and end in four-fingered claws. The other two arms are long and thin. These arms don’t seem to be very strong, but they appear quite flexible. They consist of the upper arm—a humerus—and a joint leading to a section with what looks like an ulna. Then there is an additional forearm that culminates in a wrist-like joint, and a hand displaying seven extremely slender fingers. Eve counts again. The number of fingers might be reflected in the numbering system of a species, so she wouldn’t be surprised if a mathematical system based on 7 or 14 was used here. The arms are located on the sides of the squat body, with the thinner ones starting at joints further up.