“It’s a good point,” he said.
The graphic cut to a side-on section view of the Eridanus, looking like a tipped-over milk churn with a long narrow neck. Displayed just inside the neck, was a rocket icon attached to the central axis.
“The first step,” he began, “is to deactivate the outer Field surrounding the whole Eridanus.”
“As a reminder,” Trudy cut in, “deactivation is only twelve minutes away, so do please check that your Biomags are active if you are moving between designated safe zones. Sorry to interrupt, Ivan.”
“That’s OK,” he glanced at the countdown clock to his right.
The diagrammatic bubble surrounding the Eridanus faded away, then the graphic zoomed in to frame the cylinder’s neck; the short tube that led from the vessel’s interior to outer space. A semi-opaque circle was intersecting the interior end.
“As you know, the interior Field is always on, but when we need to go outside…” he watched the animation update, “the exterior Field activates at the far end of the entrance tube… creating a pocket of space between the two… By timing the activation of the two Fields, we can safely move our probes through the tube to the outside without loss of air. It’s a bit like an airlock, but we’re using Fields instead of doors.”
The rocket icon proceeded beyond the confines of the Eridanus entrance and a helpful arrow indicated that it was headed toward Eri.
Trudy reappeared on the screen, prompting Ivan to sit a little more upright in front of the camera.
“So,” she smiled, “with just over eleven minutes to go, we’ll leave you to concentrate on the task. We wish you and the team the very best of luck.”
With Fai controlling the orbital mechanics, he thought, they didn’t need luck.
“Thanks,” he held his smile.
The screen cut to black and he let out a sigh of relief.
“You did well, Dad,” Raven crossed the room, grinning, “Is the ‘Magic Field’ ready?”
“Don’t,” he smiled back.
“Let me guess,” she arranged a small gap between her finger and thumb, “You were this close to correcting her.”
“Nope,” he pinched his finger and thumb together firmly, “This close. Where’s your mum?”
Raven smiled and pointed at the glazed door at the side of the room, “She stepped out to take a call.”
Ivan could see Lana, hand clasped to her ear, her expression blank. Instinctively he knew that something wasn’t right, and he began crossing the room.
“Dad?” Raven called after him.
Before he’d reached the door, Lana had entered the room.
“What is it?” he studied her face.
She kept looking between him and their daughter, seemingly unable to find words.
“Ivan…” she began.
He grabbed the nearest chair and guided her to sit down. Crouching at her side, he took hold of her hand.
“It’s going to be OK,” he told her, “just tell me.”
Lana looked at Raven and was unable to stop quiet tears from arriving. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, she turned to him.
“Chen Tai…”
THE FALLS
Here at The Falls, the elevation was higher than the rest of the contained world; the gravity supplied by centripetal spin was lower up here.
Raven could feel it with every step.
She walked toward the sculptured fountain at the centre of the village. The inscription around the base read ‘The Falls - Space, Time and Gravity’.
Being so prominently placed on the main street, the water feature invited anyone who saw it to become fascinated by its interplay of physical forces. She stopped in front of it and, in her sombre state, allowed the chaotic motion to fill her senses.
The water rose quickly but then appeared to fall in slow motion. Glass-like, rippling globules parted and coalesced, sparkling in the evening sunlight.
Space, Time and Gravity took on new perspectives here.
She remembered the first time that her adoptive parents had brought her here. She’d been quite nervous, having heard various rumours about Dr. Chen, but Lana had reassured her, telling her to repeat the words that were on her pendant.
“Don’t fear the falls,” she spoke the words aloud again.
According to data recovered by Fai from archived recordings, the phrase was something that her grandpa had once said to her grandma. Although the pendant words hadn’t been literally referring to the place called ‘The Falls’, Lana’s point had been well made: if you lived in fear of falling, you could never ascend to anything in life.
The irony was that by ascending the mountainous landscape to meet Dr. Chen, The Falls had ultimately widened the entire scope of her life.
She watched the water slowly cascade and become reabsorbed into the undulating pond at the base, where the process would begin again. Although she’d returned here many times, the gravity of today’s visit pulled at her. Today, she would become the legal beneficiary of Chen Tai’s estate.
Digging into her baggy coat pocket, she retrieved the small recube and checked that it had sufficient power. In a few minutes she’d need it to witness the signing of digital papers.
“OK,” she nodded to herself and walked in the direction of Chen Tai’s former home.
•
The signing had gone about as well as could be expected, Devon thought. The recube witness recording had removed some potential avenues of legal interpretation, but there’d been no way to avoid it.
He placed his briefcase into the electric buggy and climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door firmly behind him.
“Drive,” he said.
Without question, the driver pulled away.
In the buggy’s rear-view mirror, he saw that the front door of the property had closed.
“Pull in at the next turning,” he stared out of the window.
They passed a sign that read ‘You are now leaving The Falls’, then the driver turned off the road as instructed. When the buggy had come to a halt, Devon opened the door.
“Walk with me,” he led the way to the lookout point.
Years ago, this place had earned its name because people had fallen, or sometimes jumped, from here. Now, the lower gravity location was a fashionable place to retire to.
From here it was possible to see the majority of the Eridanus interior. Above him the axial sun was beginning to dim in preparation for the night cycle, and below him the view dropped swiftly away to become a landscape peppered with buildings, lakes and glazed tropical domes.
Devon knew he’d put in the time. He’d bailed his former CEO out of the axis detention units and bowed to everything that was asked of him for thirteen years. Luck of the genetic draw had given Devon augmented intelligence, so it had galled him to support Chen’s genetic welfare program. The generous hand-outs of medicine and biomechanical prostheses had been devastating to the company’s profit margins. Being able to claim free cortothene enhancements was little comfort when he’d just lost so much.
Luóxuán was his. His name had been on the will. But then Chen had signed it over to a cocky little gene-freak. Technically, Devon knew he himself was one of those freaks, but he’d spent a lifetime carefully concealing it; Meznic wasn’t even trying.
An apologetic cough came from behind him.
“Everything OK, Mr. Kohlner?”
“No,” he simplified, “No it’s not.”
He knew the problem was further compounded: they would soon arrive at a brand new world. His ability to completely control its drugs, genetics, and medical implants had just vanished with the stroke of a pen.
He stared at the corporate pen that was still in his hand. For the first time, Luóxuán’s helix logo didn’t feel like a symbol of power, it felt like a downward spiral.
A flash of motion caught his eye. Someone had jumped from the local outcrop of rock. It took him only a moment to see that it was the bird-woman herself, Raven Meznic, using Ch
en’s nightmarish winged biotech.
“Who the hell is she, Toby?” he suppressed a shudder at the sight.
Toby moved to stand at his side.
“Apparently she got shipped up here from an Earth orphanage,” he said, “Lana an’ Ivan Meznic adopted her, prob’ly out of pity. I mean, how ugly d’you have to be for an orphanage to ship-”
“That’s not what I meant,” he was already aware of the records, “I meant who was she to Chen?”
“You know as much as me,” said Toby.
Devon watched the bird-shaped silhouette recede toward the lights of New Houston, up at the hole end of the cylinder. He stole a glance at his watch. The seconds mechanically ticked away, but their regularity provided no solace. In a few days, he thought, the Meznic issue would be the least of the problems.
“Everyone’s going to head to the planet,” he said, “The captive market will leave through that hole. I don’t suppose you’ve got any great business insights?”
“All due respect, Mr. Kohlner,” Toby gestured at Devon’s tailored outfit, “you’ve always paid me to think outside-the-suit.”
Devon smiled, “I don’t think your physical approach to problem solving is going to work on this occasion.”
Toby was frowning, “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Alright,” Devon shook his head, “Let’s hear it.”
Toby glanced around them, apparently checking they were alone.
“Back on Earth, I had to fight to keep what I’d worked for.”
“Go on,” Devon was curious to see where this would lead.
“I learnt that the best way to keep control of your territory, is to make your competitor’s stuff toxic. That way, people can only get their shit from you.”
“Toby,” he pointed at the Luóxuán pen logo, “Helix is the only place that people can get their ‘shit’.”
“No,” he pointed to the hole, “You’ve got competition.”
“The planet?” Devon frowned.
“What if people believed Eri was toxic?” Toby shrugged, “Or if they believed they’d be worse off by going there?”
Remarkably, Toby had a point.
After seventeen years in space, people had become comfortable with their lifestyle. They’d grown used to having shelter and warmth as basic rights. They had food, water and even trivial entertainment on tap. Once people left the Eridanus, that life of convenience and familiarity would be over. They just couldn’t see it yet.
In their small contained world, rumours would travel fast.
ANALYSIS
Beneath the gentle atmospheric glow of the new world, white clouds cast crisp shadows on the green continents. The sapphire-blue seas reflected the bright sun of a new dawn.
Lana looked away from the image on the screen to consider her friends around the table. They were busy analysing the vast banks of data that had been transmitted from the Eri probes.
Although they were united by a common goal, each person had arrived at this place by very different routes.
Abel Meyer had spent most of his life pursuing the restoration of Earth’s spaceflight program; a journey that had first begun with a trip aboard the Apollo 73, when he was only five.
Lawrence Clark had also been aboard the maiden voyage of the ’73, though his own route to the Eridanus had been more direct: a Field-equipped hibernation vessel. By the time he’d met with Abel aboard the Eridanus, the five-year-old was very much his senior. Lana knew that since the advent of Field technology, this sort of quirk was inevitable.
Loren Ballard was making her way through Eri’s tidal flow patterns, whereas Ivan appeared preoccupied by the broader ecosystem reports.
Chris Powell, former mathematician aboard the ISS, seemed deeply troubled. Eyebrows deeply furrowed, he repeatedly tapped at an old calculator.
“What is it, Chris?” Lana asked.
Chris jabbed several more numbers into the calculator’s keypad, before tossing it onto the table.
“Epsilon Eridani was our best hope, but…”
“But what?” Ivan now put down his tablet.
“Before the Eridanus left,” he pointed vaguely over his shoulder, “our best long-distance measurements predicted that we might find a main-sequence K2 star, orbited by asteroid belts at three and twenty AU, with Eri B somewhere between them.”
“About three point five AU from the star,” Loren nodded.
“Except that’s not what we’re seeing,” Chris angled his hand at the various tablets.
“What we found was better, wasn’t it?” Abel glanced around, “I’m not seeing the downside to any of this.”
Chris rubbed at his face.
“Statistically, what we found was pretty much impossible. Instead of a K2 we find a star comparable to Sol, and Eri itself isn’t giant. Its mass is within a few percent of Earth’s.”
“OK it might be Earth-like,” said Loren, “but it doesn’t take an Earth-year to orbit its sun, it takes seven. There are differences.”
“Yeah, big differences,” Chris pointed to a diagram, “We were expecting two asteroid belts. Not a belt, plus one moon.”
“Agreed,” said Abel, “We’ll have to reconsider our intended asteroid mining oper-”
“I’m not talking about mining, Abe! We’ve seen the orbit plots. Eri’s being kept in obliquity-check because of that moon. Explain that one!”
Loren leaned forward, “Our real-time journey has been a few million years. Maybe the belt at three AU underwent accretion and -”
“Two million years isn’t enough time for a moon to form, the gravitational processes are just too slow.”
“OK,” Ivan sighed, “what are you getting at?”
Chris seemed hesitant.
“I feel like I’ve got to ask the question,” he said, “Can we trust what we’re seeing?”
Loren pointed at the photos from Eri orbit, “We’ve seen it with our own eyes.”
“We’ve seen what the probes have relayed,” he stared back, “Not the same thing.”
Lawrence laughed, a reaction that quickly died when he saw that Chris’ dour expression hadn’t changed.
“Chris,” he said, “You can not be suggesting that we’re looking at faked data, from two independent probes? Fai is fundamentally incapable of that level of deceit.”
Lana exchanged glances with Ivan; they’d once instructed Fai to hide public record information about Raven’s origin, but there was a difference between concealing information and fabricating an entire world.
“Fai runs virtually every system on board,” said Chris.
“I’ve spent years getting to know her systems,” Lawrence folded his arms, “She’s just not capable of it.”
“Why not?”
“A critical component of lying is that you already have some clue about what the other person is expecting. It’s a creative process that Fai simply doesn’t have. She lacks a human perspective. If she’d invented the data, we’d be looking at a duplicate of Earth.”
Chris offered a genuinely apologetic shrug.
“The alternative is that some benevolent force has adjusted the fabric of space for a million miles, bent on making things just right for the human race…”
The discussion stopped and they lapsed into a contemplative silence.
“You know,” said Ivan, “I’m sure we’ve all seen the opinionated, inexpert interviews on TV lately.”
Lana found she was joining in with the grumbles of agreement.
“The rumours…” Ivan continued, “The doubts that we could possibly have finally reached our destination. Chris has expressed his doubts more scientifically than your average person, but the doubt is just as real. The best way to erase doubt is by witnessing something firsthand.”
Lana immediately understood what her husband was proposing, “We launch an away mission?”
Abel tapped at an orbital diagram.
“We could get the Eridanus to do another loop,” he traced his finger aro
und one of the ellipses on his tablet, “Conserve its momentum, until we know for certain if we want to settle here.”
Chris was now nodding, “If we put the Field back up, everyone here could skip through it in a few days. But the mission itself…?”
For Lana, the thought of being away from her daughter for so long was abhorrent. The expression on Ivan’s face confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.
“It’s too long,” he agreed.
Abel gave a slight grumble of disagreement.
As they all turned to face him, he folded his arms.
“Not if we took the right kit.”
HELIX
Raven took the Red Line carriage south toward the closed end of the cylinder. Through the glazing of the transport, she could see the end disk looming large.
As a child she’d learnt that when the cylinder had first been discovered, the end wall had held a large portion of the Siva comet.
After the central sun axis had been fabricated, its heat had melted the ice. In addition to the water, the comet had contained a vast quantity of elements and minerals; most of which had been used to build their precious ecosystem.
The transport passed over the Eridanus’ largest body of water. Through the window, she saw the water curving upward, following the cylinder’s interior, before disappearing behind the axial sun.
Human ingenuity and A.I. calculation had finessed this cylinder into a habitable, some would say comfortable, place. But despite the technological advances that were now commonplace, science still couldn’t explain the actual origin of the spinning cylinder. There were no records of its creation or of its arrival within the lunar debris that orbited the Earth. The question remained: how could a framework so perfect for supporting human life arise purely by chance?
Raven knew the theories ranged from secret government construction conspiracies, to sheer divine providence. She was of the opinion that the answer probably lay somewhere between. Lana and Ivan had been there to witness and direct the sequence of events that had transformed the barren lunar rock into a verdant world, so Raven had never found it hard to imagine a layer of scientific endeavour that exceeded current intelligence. Human or otherwise.
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