The Death of the Universe: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 1)

by Brandon Q Morris

  But maybe he was kidding himself. It was also possible that today’s dominant species had prevailed due to a massive extermination campaign, and what he was seeing as a paradise was actually a hell. A hell that devoured all its visitors and already had Zhenyi on its conscience?

  Man, Kepler, he thought, your human imagination is taking you for a ride again. Why can’t something simply be what it appears to be?

  Would Zhenyi have summoned you here if nothing but sunshine prevailed? Why shouldn’t she invite him to an obvious paradise? Had she maybe reconsidered her decision to separate?

  You’re deluding yourself, Kepler. Typical!

  It was hard work arguing with himself. He fell asleep.

  Cycle ZB2.6, unknown system

  The stem was gone, and the whole ship smelled intensely of camphor. Kepler had already searched the analyzer, the floor under it, then the entire room. The airlock was sealed, so the stem couldn’t have escaped outside. Or if it had somehow gotten out, then he’d be faced with the even more confounding question of how.

  Kepler sat down on the seat. Would it be best to put himself under the scanner? He imagined how the stem might have used the opportunity to creep into his mouth and then his stomach. Or even through his ear to his brain. Maybe he’d soon start conversing with the other stems.

  But that made no sense. There was nothing in the stem that could in any way influence his brain, except perhaps for the camphor. The smell made him feel dazed, but it wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous to him. If the stuff was poisonous, the life support system would have quickly removed it from the air. He needed to calm down.

  What was the most likely version of events? The stem had no feet, so it couldn’t have bolted. It must have simply dissolved into the air. Was that why the camphor smell was so intense? Kepler searched for a piece of paper and rubbed it over the shelf next to the analyzer. Then he inserted the paper into the machine. The device didn’t need long to deliver the solution. The stem must have committed a kind of suicide. Its molecules had simply ceased to cooperate. The analyzer found a lot of fragments, but none of the molecules had their previous form. Maybe the stem was missing something essential? Should he have put it in water, or was the air too dry? It didn’t really matter, he had the answer to his question. It wasn’t as though he was trying to cultivate this exotic grass.

  Still, it was a bit of a shock. He had removed something from the ecosystem that died as a result. He felt guilty. He was sorry. How did you say sorry to an extraterrestrial lawn? He still didn’t know enough. Were the stems part of a colony? Did they live in symbiosis? Or were they just one single being? Anything was possible. How did they view him? Did they recognize that he was alive and the spaceship was dead? They had reacted to his presence. Was it a conscious retreat, or just pure instinct? Was everything basically inconsequential to them, as long as nobody blocked their sunlight?

  So many questions! But he wouldn’t get any answers just sitting around here. He stood up and walked over to the cupboard where the spacesuit was hanging. He opened the door and immediately closed it again. He didn’t need a spacesuit! Kepler reached for the laser pincers and went through the airlock and outside.

  Somehow he had expected to breathe the fresh morning air, but of course that made no sense. Out here nothing had changed. The sun hung in the same position in the sky, as though someone had nailed it there. It was two or three degrees warmer than yesterday. Kepler looked down at his right arm to read the exact values, but there was nothing there. He had no spacesuit on. He was just wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe he should at least have brought the universal device with him.

  He could go and get it later. He knelt on the ground at the edge of the scorched area. The stem he had cut must be around here somewhere. Or had that dissolved, too? But no, the half stem was still there. Kepler bent very near to it. Its companions retreated, but the cut stem didn’t react. It was logical, if the stems detected acoustic signals via the flat tip. He had stolen the plant’s eyes and ears, and probably its speech organ. Humans were destroyers.

  “I’m sorry,” said Kepler.

  Maybe the stems nearby would catch his drift. They wouldn’t understand him, but could they guess what was meant from the context? He was probably about to cause this strange creature more pain. But how could he proceed otherwise? All of this had something to do with Zhenyi’s disappearance. He had to follow every clue, whatever the cost.

  Kepler grasped the shortened stem with his right hand. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on his hand. Could it be that the stem was trembling in his fingers? That it was trying to evade him? He pulled upwards. His fingers slid along the stem. That must have been the camphor. It made the material slippery. He wiped his hands on his pants and tried again.

  One, two, three... he tore at the stem, but without success. The other specimens nearby seemed to pull back a little. But they didn’t come to the aid of the stem he was tugging. Kepler imagined them charging at him and strangling him. He wiped his fingers again. If he was wearing the spacesuit he’d have more strength in his arm. But that seemed unsporting to him. This way it was a fairer fight. Kepler pulled on the stem again.

  Finally it worked. The momentum almost made him fall, and he had to support himself with his other arm. He had the remains of the stem in his hand. At the bottom was a kind of knot. That must be the roots. They hung caked in brown soil, but he could also see whitish threads writhing in it. Kepler looked at the hole in the ground left behind by the stem. It was surprisingly large, and something was wriggling and writhing inside it. He felt sick. It looked... strange. Then a brown mass pushed upwards, probably the soil. The hole closed. The whole process took no more than a minute.

  Kepler looked at the remains of the stem. He shook the soil off. The white threads slackened. They weren’t worms, they were probably the same material that the stem was made of, but without the chlorophyll—in other words, completely normal roots. But the hole in the ground was quite different, suggesting the essence of this life form might exist under the surface rather than on top of it.

  Kepler was simultaneously fascinated and disgusted. He would have to talk to the butler about it.

  Cycle ZB2.7, unknown system

  ‘Unknown system.’ This bothered Kepler whenever he entered something into his log. Shouldn’t it be ‘deleted system?’ Humanity must have already given a name to the star as well as the planets. Had it maybe had some kind of designation before that? The grass certainly wouldn’t have given its home world any kind of fancy name. But he was sure it could feel the soil below it and the warmth and light from above. Those were the basic faculties of life. Maybe, out of respect, he should refrain from assigning it a word from a human language—perhaps at some point he would find out the real name of this celestial body.

  Well, wasn’t he the poet today! Sometimes he liked to think of himself like that. But then he thought he would rather have been the hands-on engineer, which he never was. It was strange—he had existed for over twenty gigacycles now, but he still didn’t know who he was. Or perhaps he knew, but didn’t want to admit it, because he didn’t live up to his own standards?

  “Johannes?”

  He clapped a hand to his chest. The voice had come from all speakers simultaneously. “Man, do you have to do that? You gave me such a fright!” he exclaimed.

  He was expecting to have to wait for the butler’s reply, but it came straight back. “I first tried to contact you via the screen, but without success.”

  “I was lost in thought. Are you already back?”

  Kepler was glad to have the butler as a distraction. Sometimes he spent whole days ruminating like this.

  “The distances in this system are short. I’m in orbit, almost directly above you.”

  “What, geostationary?” He bit his tongue. The planet rotated so slowly that a geostationary orbit was almost impossible.

  “No, just at this moment. If it was night you’d be able to see me drifting acros
s the sky from east to west.”

  “It’s never night down here.”

  “I know. You should be glad. It’s frigid on the night side. Have you found out anything else?”

  Kepler sent the butler the results from the analyzer and then described what he had seen. He left out the bit about the hole in the soil. He wasn’t at all sure why.

  “Well, we’re certainly in the right place,” said the butler. “Even though almost all your questions are unanswered, it all sounds very promising.”

  Almost all? Then was there an answer to something? he wondered. Then he said, “I’m not sure what direction to go in,” said Kepler.

  “Just follow your nose,” replied the butler. “No, excuse me, I feel strangely elated today. I found it very exciting how the grass communally led you back to the spacecraft. Perhaps you could look into that.”

  Kepler was relieved. That was a guilt-free game. He had feared the butler might suggest further tests on the plants. He felt that was the wrong thing to do. He shouldn’t have torn the stem out of the ground. Now would be a good time to tell the butler about it.

  He let the moment pass. An uncomfortable silence ensued. Kepler realized that the butler was politely waiting for an answer. “Good,” he said. “I’ll think of a couple of experiments for the vegetation.”

  “Understood. The ship will now disappear into a radio shadow, but I’ll be reachable again in a few hours.”

  This time Kepler seriously considered putting on the spacesuit. No one would be able to come to his aid over the next few hours. He felt like the most alone person in the universe while the butler was floating across the opposite side of this unknown planet. He threw a glance through the airlock. The sun was shining. The grass swayed in a light breeze. The only thing missing was the twittering of a few birds. Kepler imitated the chirping of a sparrow. Now the picture was complete. He’d better be careful not to drive himself crazy. Before him lay a beautiful, figuratively endless summer day, which he would spend taking a leisurely stroll across the green hills.

  Kepler left the airlock. He deliberately chose a direction that took him as far as possible from the ripped-out stem. Maybe the plants there wouldn’t know what he’d done. He still had a guilty conscience. As usual, the grass retreated as soon as he moved toward it. The plants were clearly oriented to his movements. He stood still for a moment and imagined himself taking a step to the right. Nothing happened. Kepler was strangely relieved. Had he really believed the grass could read his thoughts?

  He took in the vista. The soil was uniform in all directions. There were no large stones, pebbles, or anything. That was probably because the system was so old. There had been enough time for the vegetation to adapt the planet to its requirements.

  Nor were there any high mountains, just gently rolling hills. What would Terra look like today if there had never been humans? Just as scorched as it is now, you fool. This planet simply had the good fortune of orbiting an exceptionally long-lasting red dwarf. Of the 300 billion planets in the Milky Way, humans had maybe two or three on their collective conscience. They always overestimated their own importance.

  Today must be ‘self-awareness day.’ That wasn’t part of the plan.

  Kepler almost stumbled when he reached the landing module again. The grass had obviously but very gently steered him back. It was probably even intended as a kindness. He didn’t belong on the planet, he belonged in this landing module. But he was being dense. He had wanted to take a hike, that was his plan.

  This time he concentrated properly. He kept convincing himself that the ship lay exactly behind him. That way he managed to cross the next hill, and then another, and another—until he could no longer see the landing module. Kepler walked on. He mustn’t lose his bearings. If necessary he would call the butler. He had the universal device with the radio module on his arm. He went briskly around a hill that looked like all the others... and there was the lander again!

  Kepler laughed. This grass really had it down pat. When he thought about it, it was an enormous achievement. He turned around and walked in the opposite direction. The stems down here couldn’t see his ship. But they still moved in such a way that he was very gradually led back. That meant they must be somehow drawing the necessary information from somewhere. Did the stems communicate with each other acoustically? Or did the transmission occur in the soil below? He tried not to think about the sight that had reminded him of a grave. Maybe the essential oils were also playing a role, although he currently couldn’t smell any camphor.

  He sat down. As expected, a brown circle two meters in diameter formed around him. Kepler was tired. He rested his arms on his knees and didn’t move. The circle grew smaller. Was it curiosity that was moving the stems closer? He lay on his belly. A little nap wouldn’t hurt. The circle transformed into a rectangle—no, a quadrilateral... in fact, an isosceles trapezoid, technically, as it was narrowed down by his feet. He lay his head on his right forearm. The stems looked much taller from this perspective, but not threatening. They weren’t dangerous at all, he was convinced of that.

  At least, not as long as he remained on the surface.

  Kepler woke half an hour later. He half suspected the stems of waking him, but that was impossible. The short sleep had left him feeling wonderfully refreshed. On waking, a new strategy had occurred to him. Or had he dreamt it? He couldn’t remember having any dreams.

  He needed new orientation points if he was going to get away from the landing module. Otherwise the vegetation would keep diverting him. He selected a hill, marched straight up it, and sat down on it. He pushed soil together to form a mound, taking care not to scratch too deeply into the ground. Then he walked down the hill. The brown patch remained, as he had assumed it would. The stems couldn’t repopulate it as quickly as they usually did. That would give him enough time to orient himself and reach the next hill.

  It worked. He looked at the white spot in the sky, the local sun. For farther distances he could use that to orient himself. For shorter ones, the trick with the mounds worked better.

  He called the butler on the radio. He must be back in range by now.

  “I can hear you, Johannes,” said the butler.

  “Good. How far am I from the landing module?”

  “Slightly more than four and a half kilometers.”

  That couldn’t be right! His leg muscles were telling him he must have walked at least fifteen kilometers. But clearly not in a straight line.

  “That’s... depressing,” he said.

  “Sorry. Anything new down there?”

  Kepler described his experiment.

  “A kind of collective instinct,” the butler commented. “Or even collective intelligence, it’s hard to say. Maybe it’s time for the mirror test.”

  “Mirror test?”

  “Some species of animal recognize themselves in a mirror, others think they are seeing another animal of the same species. However, it’s not very conclusive, and it assumes that we can distinguish between the typical and atypical reactions of a species.”

  “I don’t think we’re that far yet,” said Kepler.

  “Probably not. Then perhaps we should first concern ourselves with what I’ve discovered on the other side of the planet.”

  “You’ve... discovered something? Why are you only telling me this now?”

  “Politeness requires that I first show interest in the other party. I can’t deny my programming.”

  “And what have you discovered?”

  “Actually nothing. But the planet’s magnetic field is slightly concave there.”

  “And that means?”

  “There could be ore deposits under the surface. But given the age of the planet, that’s rather unlikely.”

  “What is it then?”

  “A crashed spaceship could have that effect on the magnetic field.”

  Kepler jumped up. “It must be Zhenyi!” They were finally on the trail!

  “But officially no wreck has been rec
orded here.”

  “Nothing is recorded here, not even the planet.”

  “That’s true,” said the butler.

  “Did you take a closer look? Radar, telescope, gamma and so on?”

  “I did, but there was nothing to see. The other side of the planet is largely covered with ice. The spaceship could have sunk into it.”

  “That’s plausible. We’ll definitely have to have a look.”

  “Then quickly get into your lander, Johannes, and come! I’ll wait for you up here.”

  “I’ll hurry.”

  Kepler started walking. The communal instinct of the stems brought him back to the landing module by the shortest route. This time he didn’t resist. What did the stems think of his change in attitude?

  Cycle ZB2.7, PSR J1745-2900

  “How much time do we have left?” asked Marie.

  “The ship is using a tenth of the contents of the tank per hour just to hold its course,” Pierre answered.

  “Give me two hours,” said Marie.

  “You have a maximum of three, then I’ll have to launch. Otherwise we’ll never get away from here.”

  Marie stood on the outer hull of the ninety-niner. She was alone. That in itself was a frightening feeling. She hadn’t left their shared body once in the last ten thousand years. But it wasn’t suitable for this. She was wearing an ultra-light body. Pierre had taken over control of the ship while she performed the extra-vehicular activity.

  At first glance the sky above her was utterly black. In the center of the Milky Way, that was actually impossible. The stars were so dense there that the sky had a unique glow and glimmer that you couldn’t find anywhere else. But not here, three-tenths of a light-year from Sagittarius A*, the black hole that controlled the Milky Way. It was only evident if you looked closely—for example, through the Einstein rings subtly visible in two regions of the sky. They existed because Sagittarius A* acted as a gravitational lens for the light from the stars behind it.