The Bridge

by Simon Winstanley

  The sphere continued to rock.

  As the seconds ticked past, it seemed that the doorway had been empty too long. All too easily he could imagine her falling down the outside of the sphere into the churning sea.

  Sabine suddenly reappeared at the edge of the doorway and looked down at them, out of breath and grinning.

  Mat found himself laughing along with the others.

  “Maman!” Ebony smiled and waved up at her.

  Sabine waved back and, reaching somewhere out of view, her hand returned with a radio.

  “Sea-Bass,” she gasped and smiled, “This is Sabine. Come in.”

  Mat began to feel a sense of cold dread.

  Although they’d had their own problems to deal with, the Sea-Bass had still been docked with the secondary airlock. There was no way to know if Lucy had also been caught up in the series of flooding events that had passed through the ARC.

  “This is Sabine,” her smile had faded, “Sea-Bass, come in.”

  “Try switching to the backup channel,” Pavna called up to her.

  “How?” Sabine frowned and looked at her radio.

  Spotting that Pavna still had her arms full, Tessa held up her own radio.

  “There’s a dial on the top,” she pointed it out, “This one here. Click it until the-”

  “I read you!” Sabine’s radio suddenly blared.

  Mat breathed a sigh of utter relief and let the new, fresh air refill his lungs.

  “We’re gonna be OK,” he turned to Pavna.

  “Yep,” Pavna smiled and gave Ebony a squeeze.

  “Sabine?” Lucy’s voice returned over Sabine’s handset, “Where are you?”

  “We’re on the surface,” Sabine replied and looked to her right, “I can see the island…”

  There was a short pause.

  “That dot on the radar is you?” Lucy seemed surprised, “I… never mind… Look, is everyone OK?”

  “Tell her we’re fine,” Noah called up.

  Sabine relayed the message and Lucy’s voice returned.

  “Everyone hold tight. With you soon.”

  For the first time, Mat began to think that, in all likelihood, the ARC was now gone; flooded and inaccessible on the ocean floor.

  If the last occupants of the ARC had left behind anything at all, he felt sure that it would be in one place: the isolated memory space on the laptop in his bag.

  THE BLACKBOX ARCHIVE

  Moored off the east coast of Pico Island, the Sea-Bass and its crew were doing their best to recover from the events of the last few hours.

  After being towed to the island, the escape sphere now lay at rest in the surf, awaiting the elements. With the exception of Broxbourne’s framed blueprint, there had been relatively little to salvage; not because the structure was worthless, but because the Sea-Bass had no way to store the materials.

  Before leaving the sphere behind, they’d tethered it to the island as best they could and fitted it with a tracking beacon. In addition to being able to locate it again, it would become a navigation aid for any craft that might venture out across the Atlantic.

  Mat knew how useful this would be. When the Sea-Bass had left behind the newly-formed Öskjuvatn channels to join the North Sea, exploration had been both precarious and slow. In a world with no satellite guidance, any navigation beacon would be better than none.

  He made his way up through the Sea-Bass decks. Although the spaces aboard the submarine were more compact than the ARC, he felt more trusting of its walls and was thankful to be back in an environment that made sense to him.

  Fai had begun work imaging the memory space of the laptop from the ARC, a process that was expected to take a while to complete. But a few moments ago, Lucy had called everyone together over the internal comm.

  Mat reached the control room and saw that the others were gathered around the central surface display.

  “Sabine not here?”

  “She’s settling Ebony,” said Pavna, “Thought it best to give them some space.”

  He nodded, “What have you got, Lucy?”

  “An unencrypted folder,” she said, “The first complete item that Fai found. The header info says that it contains images.”

  “Images?” he looked at her, “Of what?”

  “Haven’t opened it,” Lucy shrugged.

  “Let’s go,” he nodded.

  Lucy opened the folder, then the display was quickly populated with multiple photos.

  “Wow,” Tessa stepped closer.

  “Can we see them any bigger?” Noah stared at the small squares.

  “Wait a sec,” Lucy specified a few viewing options.

  The display rearranged itself to show a column of small photos down one side, and one large image that filled the majority of the screen.

  “Jim and Gwen Broxbourne,” said Lucy.

  Mat recognised the photo, it was the one from Broxbourne’s ready room. The display updated to show the next image in the folder.

  “Why do this?” Mat frowned at the display, “Why leave photos out of the main encryption?”

  “Incentive,” said Tessa, “It makes you want to find out more about the people they show… encourages you to decrypt the folder.”

  “But we know these people,” Mat glanced between Pavna and Lucy.

  “But,” said Tessa, “if Marcus arranged the laptop, he couldn’t know that you would be the ones to find it.”

  “Fair point,” said Mat, “It sort of -”

  He suddenly spotted a photo containing someone he knew very well: Tristan Westhouse.

  “Izzy!” both Tessa and Noah recognised the woman standing next to him.

  “This is after Dover!” Pavna grinned.

  “They all got out!” Noah laughed.

  Similarly laughing, Lucy tapped rapidly at the display which then updated itself. The layout remained the same, but the photo’s filename and date were displayed under the main image.

  Several more images passed by; people from the ARC that they knew but had never really got to know, shots of the common area still fully illuminated, and even a few images of Pico Island itself.

  The next image caused Mat to draw a deep breath.

  Taken in 2020, five years after Siva’s impact with Earth’s lunar debris, the photo showed Tristan and Izzy with two children sitting on their laps. The images that followed were taken in a variety of different locations but featured the same children, albeit a little older each time.

  “Nathan and Rebecca,” Pavna read the filename, “It’s like they had an instant family.”

  “The whole thing screws with your head,” said Mat, as more images passed by, “It’s only been a few years since we saw them, but I’m guessing that any of their grandchildren must be adults by now. Somewhere out there.”

  Mat could see that Noah and Tessa were quietly studying the images too. When the Sea-Bass had left the USV, a man called Nathan Bishop had been left behind. So far, he’d appeared in none of the photos.

  “I don’t think Bishop made it,” said Tessa.

  Noah was nodding gravely, “I think Izzy named the boy after him.”

  Mat thought the theory made sense, but they didn’t know enough yet to be sure.

  “Fai’s not finished unpacking all the data yet,” he said, “I’m sure there’ll be a report.”

  The current batch of photos came to an end, showing Nathan and Rebecca sat either side of a roughly-made birthday cake; both appeared to be blowing out the small candle that was on the top.

  “Twins,” said Pavna, “Wow.”

  “Is that the Britannia in the background?” Lucy pointed to the image.

  “Think you might be right,” Pavna squinted at the slightly blurry form.

  “They achieved so much in so little time,” Noah gestured to the spread of images on the display surface.

  “Not really,” said Tessa, “On and off, we’ve only been at sea less than four years. From the age of the kids, I’d say the Britannia was out t
here a hell of a lot longer.”

  Mat considered the updates that had been made to the Sea-Bass over the past four years. In contrast, the Britannia had been on the receiving end of at least two decades of Westhouse family innovation.

  “Knowing Tristan,” he said, “It’s probably still out there.”

  As soon as he’d said it, he realised that he’d fallen into the mental trap of treating the images as though they were taken yesterday. The reality was that the Britannia couldn’t have lasted forever. Almost immediately, he imagined an old, rusty submarine moored in some remote part of the world; a forgotten memorial to those who had once explored in it.

  It appeared that Noah, Lucy, Pavna and Tessa were lost in their own thoughts too; the area around the display table was suddenly very quiet.

  Until they knew more information, all introspection was likely to remain depressing. Mat felt the need to lift the mood and did so in the only way he knew how. Looking at the picture of Nathan and Rebecca, he picked up one of the two tablets that they’d taken into the ARC.

  “Fai,” he smiled, “How are your baby twins?”

  “Referencing the accelerometer within the device you are holding, and your earlier metaphor failure, are you referring to my data assistants?”

  “Humour,” Mat grinned, “I sometimes wonder why I bother.”

  “We all do,” Lucy smirked.

  “Yes, Fai,” Pavna smiled, “Please tell us the status of your assistants.”

  “Their functions have been terminated…”

  Pavna shot him a worried glance. He knew she was thinking that the tablets had somehow been damaged during their escape from the ARC. Before either of them could speak, Fai continued.

  “The data they acquired has been merged with my core program and is available for interrogation.”

  To Mat, it seemed an oddly cold response. But he had to remind himself that Fai probably saw the word ‘terminated’ in a completely different way to him.

  “Do you wish to examine the data recorded by the tablet in your hand, Mat?”

  “Sure,” he placed it down on the display table.

  “I have assessed the data from the active Cryo unit in the former hydroponics area of the ARC.”

  Tessa moved closer to the display.

  “Great, what went wrong with the unit?”

  “Nothing,” said Fai, “The failure was due to the biological component inside it. The subject entered a mental loop for a period of seven years, sixteen days. Cognitive function degenerated, but the physiological systems continued to maintain life functions for a further fourteen years and twelve days.”

  Mat found himself covering his mouth in horror.

  “Poor bastard,” said Noah, “Any idea who he was?”

  “The medical band that Tessa retrieved had only a partial alphanumeric descriptor. No identification was possible.”

  “What a waste,” Mat shook his head.

  “No, the data gathered was useful.”

  He was about to tell Fai that he meant it had been a waste of human life, but realised that the concept of empathy would probably be meaningless.

  “Really?” he simplified.

  “Yes. Prior to the subject’s cognitive failure, data suggests that the mental stimulation component of the process had begun to alter synaptic response. With adequate study, the process could be refined for the purposes of rehabilitation.”

  “Rehabilitation?” Lucy frowned, “For who?”

  “Mr. Benton.”

  “The injured guy on the ISS?” said Noah.

  “Yes. I have a long-standing directive to assist Anna. He is a required variable within that directive.”

  Although Mat had heard the tragic story from Anna Bergstrom, he felt compelled to raise an important point.

  “But, Fai, it’s been three years since your original program left the ISS.”

  “Although it has been three years, seven months and twenty-seven days since we first met aboard the Sea-Bass,” Fai corrected, “the Chronomagnetic Field surrounding the ISS is still in place.”

  “How long has it been for them?” said Pavna.

  “Twenty-six point seven hours.”

  Mat shook his head at the figure. Although he considered himself firmly within 2116, the idea that time could tick by at different rates for different people, still took some getting used to. The effect was compounded by the array of photos on the display surface in front of him; faces he knew well, staring back at him from 2035.

  “Fine,” he rubbed at his face, “What do you need, Fai?”

  “I would like to conduct a sync operation with my counterpart aboard the ISS.”

  Lucy took a deep breath and turned to face the display that showed the feed from the outside cameras.

  “We can wait till nightfall,” she accessed the skyward facing view, “It should be clear enough for a Trans-Field light pulse, but that’s a lot of data, Fai.”

  “Yes, Lucy.”

  “To maintain sync,” she made a few quick calculations, “We’d need to stay here a few more nights.”

  Noah nodded at the Sea-Bass’ bubble window, “Looks like we’ll have the island view for a bit longer then.”

  “Probably no bad thing,” said Tessa, “It’ll give us chance to get the Sea-Bass reset.”

  Pavna looked at the display surface images.

  “And maybe make sense of Marcus Blake’s…” she struggled to find the right word, “gift.”

  “Fai, you’re sure this stuff will help Benton?” Lucy still seemed sceptical.

  “No, but denying my ISS counterpart potentially viable solutions would be illogical.”

  “Yeah, Lucy,” Mat smirked, “Quit being so illogical.”

  A double beep came from the display panel.

  “Memory decryption complete,” said Fai “New data available.”

  The screen cleared and then displayed a menu system, above which were the words ‘Blackbox Archive’.

  CAPSULE

  Despite the Britannia’s size, it had been a major act of organisation to fit everything in. Even now, a day after leaving the ARC, things were still being rearranged to make use of all available space.

  As Marcus rotated and guided another box into an odd-shaped space, he couldn’t help recalling an old computer game that had done the same with simple shapes. Perhaps his early years hadn’t been wasted after all, he thought.

  He stood and looked around the mess room. Like him, some people were helping to shift items around the sub, but others were having their scheduled lunch break.

  He gave a nod to Ian Holister at a nearby table, but the nod was returned without a flicker of a smile; he just continued to eat with his family.

  The Holisters had aged only half as much as Marcus; but then the hibernation program had been brought to a swift halt. Although it wasn’t Marcus’ fault that the ARC’s hydrothermal vents were drying up, he couldn’t help thinking that Ian still somehow blamed him for the discovery.

  Megan arrived at his side carrying a small box. After pushing it into place on top of some others, she turned and stood next to him.

  “Alright?” she said.

  The vague feelings of self-doubt he’d been experiencing over the past few hours, chose that moment to take advantage of her casual question.

  “D’you think we did enough?” he said.

  “With what?”

  He pictured the empty central control room at the ARC.

  “The laptop we left behind. Is it just a…” he shook his head, “a glorified time capsule?”

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me, right?” Megan laughed, “It’s not like we buried a load of newspaper clippings and trinkets in a box. There’s twenty years of records there! I mean, what sort of time capsule does all that and tells you exactly where to find the people who made it?”

  As Megan began walking from the mess room, Marcus followed her.

  “It’s like Terry used to say,” she continued, “We’re just lighting the way
for them. When they find it, they’ll follow the trail.”

  Marcus quietly considered that with each passing year, it was less likely that the laptop would be found. For Megan’s sake, he just smiled and gave an affirmative nod.

  They stopped at the railing that overlooked the busy main staircase and Megan suppressed a short laugh. She pointed at the smooth metallic hull that arched overhead.

  “If anything, we are the time capsule,” she looked below at the people who had, through various means, made it to safety, “A selection of preserved things that record what the world once looked like.”

  “Has anyone ever told you,” Marcus turned to face her, “You got this amazin’ talent for making people feel really bloody old?”

  “Piss off,” she grinned and looked away.

  “No, seriously,” he continued to mock her, “Maybe you got this fantastic genetic gift that they can’t scan for… maybe you’re super-annoying…”

  She laughed but quickly seemed to become contemplative again. Watching people come and go, he saw her smile briefly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, “It’s just that we’re both in the minority here. Most of the others aboard are carriers of augmented genes.”

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “Well, given that we’re aboard a submarine, it sort of brings a new meaning to that old term ‘Substandard’ doesn’t it?”

  “Not bad, Reynolds,” he smiled.

  He turned away and noticed Rachel Keele and Nathan Westhouse in conversation a little further along the railing.

  “Did you know they used to call his dad ‘Substandard’?” said Marcus, “…’cos of the whole submarine thing?”

  Megan shook her head, “Like father, like son, eh?”

  Marcus saw Rachel depart down the stairs in a hurry, then Nathan seemed to turn his head very slightly from side to side, as though listening to people either side of him. Except, of course, he was standing alone. On one hand, he began tapping each of his fingers against his thumb; the other hand doing the same but in a different order.

  “What’s he doing?” Megan was now watching.