The vehicle had three rows of seats, so there was enough space for all of them. Vassili wanted to put Francesca’s suitcase in the luggage compartment, but she refused the offer. He then let her have the front passenger seat.
“It’s more comfortable there with the suitcase,” he said with a smile that she returned in lieu of saying thank you.
“Our trip will be only 50 kilometers,” Vassili announced as he put on his seatbelt. “There is a traffic jam on Gromova Road, but it should not take us much longer than an hour,” he added. “Please buckle in—the roads are rather slick.”
Like the others, Amy followed his request. Maybe she could get some sleep in the meantime. During the flight she had not been able to shut her eyes, because she kept thinking about Sol, Hayato, and the future. She reached into her coat pocket and felt Sol’s photo, but she did not take it out to glance at her son. She was afraid she might cry again. I’ve got so much time, and nothing has been decided yet, she thought, but there was the lingering feeling she was just fooling herself. Or rather, trying to.
She looked at the others. All of them were busy taking off their thick coats to be more comfortable in the warmth generated inside the vehicle. Martin, who was sitting just behind her, acted like he had just fallen in love and would not leave Jiaying’s side. Next to Amy, Hayato had his eyes closed. Yesterday and the day before, the married couple kept discussing all possible options for so long he had finally had enough of it. Amy understood she had to decide herself first which solution would be acceptable to her. Not seeing her son for two years did not appear to be such an option. She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.
It was light outside, and the sunlight reflected on the glittering snow. The city was busy, and people wrapped in cloth and fur walked around in pursuit of their various tasks. The traffic in the streets was quite heavy and looked chaotic at first, but then one noticed the rudiments of a system behind it. Amy closed her eyes for a few minutes, but she could not fall asleep.
“We are crossing the river Ob,” Vassili announced after half an hour. “To the right is the reservoir.” The vehicle drove along the crest of a dam, which bordered an enormous lake covered by a layer of ice.
“You should come here in the summer,” Vassili said. “In summer it is quite lovely here, like being at the seaside. Only the gnats are a bother.” He seemed to be remembering something, as he soundlessly moved his lips.
The rhythmic beeping of the car’s turn signal woke Amy. She must have dozed off after all. Their driver Vassili wanted to turn into a side street, but the oncoming traffic would not stop. Finally, he simply made the turn. Amy was frightened, but the driver of the oncoming car hit the brakes in time. Soon they found themselves driving through a dense, tall forest. The fir trees were covered by snow to a height of a meter or more. This was what Amy always imagined the Siberian taiga to look like. All she needed was for a bear to show up.
“Akademgorodok is a bit distant from the hustle and bustle of the city,” Vassili said. “This gives the little town its very own atmosphere. People can really focus on science here. By the way, I am the director of the former Institute for Plasma Research. Former, as it is now part of the RB Group. And if you have any questions concerning plasma physics... I have to admit I asked to be the one to pick you up, because I am very interested in the drive concepts used in ILSE. The DFDs are... sorry, I did not want to surprise you like this.”
Amy nodded. “It’s best you speak with our colleagues Neumaier or Masukoshi, as they know the most about fusion drives.”
Their driver pointed ahead. “There is our destination.”
They were driving toward a twelve story, tower-like building. It had a shorter front part, topped with a glass pyramid. On the roof of the building they saw a glass dome, which was at least twice as big as the pyramid. The whole thing exuded a Soviet-era character, but it could hardly be a hundred years old.
“This is the main entrance to the university,” Vassili explained. “The tower was finished in 2015, when this institution still belonged to the state.”
“It is no longer a state university?” asked Amy.
“In the late 2030s, at the height of the Russian state crisis, the RB Group bought it, the entire premises. Today, Akademgorodok is the private research center of the Group.”
The vehicle stopped in front of a barrier, which seemed to confirm his words. Vassili showed his ID and a piece of paper, which probably described his mission. The guards saluted him. Amy saw they were armed with Russian-made AMB-17 assault rifles—she recognized these weapons from her time in the army.
“And did the researchers like this change?” she asked, continuing the discussion.
“Not all, but most of them. If you want to advance in the state university system, this is the wrong place. But there is no place like here to do research without having to worry about anything. Funds, permissions, patience—there is plenty of that here. The only condition is that your research belongs to the Group, and it decides what will be published.”
“A paradise for researchers,” Amy said.
“One could really say that,” Vassili said. “I estimate in some fields we are ten years ahead of the rest of the world.”
“You don’t publish and you don’t give anything back.”
“Well, one might think this unfair. But to be honest, what state-funded science publishes worldwide is years behind our research. We only read scientific journals out of historical interest.”
The vehicle took a tight turn and then stopped directly in front of the tower.
“Welcome to Akademgorodok,” Vassili said. “My boss is expecting you in his office. We will be together again when I give you a short tour around here.”
She had to suppress a yawn while Shostakovich gave his little welcome speech. There was a buffet waiting in his large office. Amy asked for a cup of coffee and went to look out the window. She could see white treetops all the way to the horizon. Somewhere behind us must be the Ob reservoir, Amy concluded. Off to her left was the city of Novosibirsk. It was about 3:30 p.m. and the sun was already low on the horizon. She was looking roughly northeast from its highest floor, and the high-rise cast a long shadow.
“Would you come with me?” asked Shostakovich’s unnamed companion, motioning them forward. Finally, their tour of the premises was beginning, but Amy was longing to take a nap.
“You can leave your coats in my office,” said Shostakovich, “since we can reach all the labs through tunnels. Ms. Rossi, may my colleague Vitali take your suitcase? He is going to accompany us.”
Francesca stiffened, tightening her grip at first, but then she shrugged and gave in to the request. The group walked toward the elevator. Shostakovich touched the control panel with a key card and then pressed the 2 button. The elevator took them to a diffusely lit corridor. Amy was glad they did not have to go out into the cold again, but at the same time she felt uneasy about not knowing exactly where they were going. If she remembered the position of the elevator correctly, they would be walking roughly northward in what appeared to be a completely straight corridor. Somehow Amy could not fully trust Shostakovich. From a rational perspective she should be feeling safe, since she had no proof that their Russian host was being disingenuous. Nevertheless, she instinctively reached for Hayato’s hand and continued counting her steps as they all walked to their eventual destination.
There was a door at the end of the corridor, and it opened just before they reached it. Vassili greeted them—their driver who was also a plasma physicist.
“I am going to accompany you through my institute,” he said.
No one answered.
They walked up a stairway and reached a hall the size of an aircraft hangar. It smelled of engine oil, and their ears could not miss the constant deep humming sound.
“Those are the rectifiers you’re hearing,” Vassili explained. “You will get used to it.”
A giant machine took up about two-thirds of the hall. Th
ere were coils, thick pipes, transformers, and lots of warning signs. Amy immediately thought of a reactor.
“This is our pride and joy,” Vassili said, “a fusion reactor based on the open trap principle.” Martin and Hayato suddenly stopped as one. If this was in fact true, then Vassili had reason to be proud.
“But...” Martin began.
Vassili interrupted him. “I know, the open trap principle is considered obsolete. Everybody wants to build a tokamak. We have always said a fusion reactor should have a simple structure. That is why we chose open trap. It has two magnetic mirrors on the sides, bouncing the hot plasma back and forth, which is sufficient. The ring of the tokamak is much too complicated. No wonder there are often breaches.”
Amy had read about this before. The two test reactors built according to the tokamak principle, one in Europe and the other in China, experienced dangerous accidents, so-called breaches that almost completely destroyed experiments that had cost billions.
“This reactor is working and produces electricity. A lot of electricity,” Vassili said proudly.
“Then why do you not sell the design? You could solve the world’s energy problems,” Hayato said.
“That is a business decision. We need a lot of energy for our research, and if we generate it ourselves, it will not be so noticeable. Otherwise, the entire world would know a powerful fusion reactor is located here. I will show you in a moment.”
Amy looked at Shostakovich, who stood next to Vassili, hands in pockets and smiling stoically. They left the hall through a gate. Behind it there was a smaller hall. Shostakovich hurried ahead of them and pressed a few buttons on a control panel. Spotlights turned on. Amy recognized three pipes, with a diameter of at least four meters, that looked like oversized telescopes.
“This is the future of space travel,” Shostakovich said, “Have you heard of the StarShot program, which wants to accelerate miniature spaceships by using lasers, and send them toward faraway stars? This is our own version of that program. For this reason we need the energy of the fusion reactor.”
The thick pipes must be the lasers, Amy thought.
“Can the lasers be aimed?” asked Martin.
“Most certainly!” said Shostakovich with a smile. “I know what you are trying to say. ‘If we want to shoot a spaceship measuring a few centimeters to the stars, we have to be able to aim our laser guns.’ But you are right in your assumption—we could aim them at other things too.”
“Aircraft, rockets, alien spaceships,” Martin listed.
“For instance,” the Russian man said. “Or perhaps cities.”
“You want to...”
“Yes, to accelerate our starships efficiently, we also need such lasers in space. We launch them from Earth, and then there are additional impulses from orbit, as well as from the orbits of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.”
“If your government knew of the military power you could wield with this...” Martin said.
“Then it would have reoccupied this campus a long time ago… or maybe not. Perhaps it did not want to know.” Shostakovich smiled. “But that is not our intention. I firmly believe mankind must make its way to the stars, and this technology makes it possible.”
“I would prefer if you pursued this vision in cooperation with researchers from all over the world,” Amy said, expressing her unease.
“I would prefer it that way, too, dear Amy Michaels. But you know the different nations would never agree on someone being allowed to launch such a laser gun into space. That is why I cannot ask for permission.”
“And if we betray your plans?” she asked.
“That would be a pity. But I believe you will understand. And then there would be the issue of the illegal AI your pilot likes to carry around in a suitcase.”
“I still don’t understand what our role is supposed to be,” Amy said, though she had a hunch.
“Ah, I can see you do already know it,” Shostakovich replied. “ILSE will transport a laser and place it on Enceladus.”
“The ship is not suitable for it.”
“On the last journey, the spaceship transported a submarine called Valkyrie. The laser you will take with you has roughly the same dimensions.”
December 31, 2048, Akademgorodok
The breakfast buffet overflowed with expensive delicacies, such as caviar and ‘Crimean champagne,’ which fit Amy’s stereotypes. But she also saw fresh strawberries, which she would not have expected to find in Siberia.
Shostakovich lodged them in his private five-star hotel, which was not listed in any directory. The hotel was meant for the family members who visited the researchers at Akademgorodok. Of course there was a large banya, Russian for ‘sauna,’ and an Olympic-size swimming pool. In addition there was an indoor golf course, a shooting range, and a spa that featured massage, beautician, and hair salon services, which all guests could use free of charge. A clever strategy, Amy thought. This makes the families happy to come, and the scientists won’t be itching to leave ASAP.
The waiter had seated the group at a booth located in an alcove of the dining room. Soft music was playing in the background as they quietly discussed what they had seen yesterday. Amy would not put it past Shostakovich to bug them, but their low voices would be hard to understand due to the background music.
“I assumed this wasn’t primarily about getting hold of ILSE,” Francesca said, who was sharing Amy’s distrust.
“At least he did not lie,” Hayato said. “He needs the spaceship for the transport. His own fleet will only go as far as Earth’s moon. Plus the lasers must be maintained.”
“But why did he not place them on asteroids? Do you remember the diagram of orbital parameters he showed to us? Some of them fly way beyond the orbit of Jupiter.”
“That is true, Jiaying,” Hayato replied. “But it is probably more complicated to combine them. Let us assume a mini-spaceship is launched from an Earth orbit. Then it must receive an additional push at regular intervals. This would not work if the particular asteroid that came next in the sequence just happens to be behind the sun at the necessary moment.”
Jiaying contradicted him. “You would have the same problem with planets and their moons.”
“The real issue is actually the impulse,” Martin explained. “What happens if you stand on a skateboard and throw something forward? You roll backward.”
Amy had to smile. Martin had almost certainly never been on a skateboard, but he really knew his theory and, surprisingly, was good at explaining concepts like this one.
“The light particles emitted by the laser carry an impulse,” Martin continued, “so the asteroid where the laser is located would receive an impulse in the opposite direction. The laser beam has to hit a target with a diameter of a few centimeters from a distance of several hundred thousand kilometers. This would not work if its base moves erratically during the shot. Moons are much heavier than the asteroids belonging to the RB Group, so the change in impulse would have a much smaller effect.”
Hayato patted Martin on the back. “Good explanation, dear colleague.”
“Those are just details,” Amy said. “To me, the question of whether or not we can trust Shostakovich is much more important. Will he keep his agreements? Does he have plans he did not mention?”
“Oh, I hope I can answer those questions today,” they heard the voice of the Russian say, as he approached their table from behind. Amy turned around. The man was smiling, and next to him stood a woman who could not have been more than 25 years old. She was slender, almost lanky, with short blonde hair and very blue eyes.
“Let me introduce Valentina Shukina. She is one of my best engineers. Valentina will accompany us on today’s tour.”
“I assumed you would take us to the airport now,” said Amy, looking at her watch. “I would like to be back with my son by midnight.”
“I understand, Ms. Michaels, and I promise to keep to this deadline,” Shostakovich said. “If necessary, I will take you back to Senda
i in my private jet. From there it is only an hour to Ishinomaki, if I am not mistaken.”
Fifteen minutes later they had all finished their breakfasts, and once again they were led into a tunnel. This time, Amy did not count her steps. The first stop was the information technology lab. Even laypersons would have recognized it by the computer cabinets and large monitors. Valentina took on the role of tour guide, while Shostakovich kept in the background. They also saw Dushek again, but he, too, left the stage to Valentina.
“Our IT lab mainly deals with issues involving artificial intelligence,” the young woman began. “We decided to work without any restrictions here. There is no prohibition on cloning. Therefore, we do not have to teach each new AI from the ground up. Imagine if a nursery was only allowed to grow trees from seeds. That would be very inefficient. Instead, we use—metaphorically speaking—cuttings and the technique of grafting. This way, things an AI learned do not have to be relearned by its successor.”
Martin listened with his mouth agape. “That’s like babies being born with all of their parents’ knowledge,” he said to the others. “Mankind would take a huge step forward.”
“That applies to our AIs,” Valentina said, and Amy could detect the pride in her voice.
“But you couldn’t sell these AIs to any industrial nation which joined the UN Convention,” Martin remarked.
“That is correct. Yet the market is big enough, and we enjoy a kind of monopoly.”
“What about the singularity? Wouldn’t this raise the risk drastically?”
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