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

by Brandon Q Morris

  The ship had docked. They disembarked through the airlock. They didn’t need spacesuits. The dock had attached an exit passage to the airlock through which they could float into the reception rooms. The three of them went together—Kepler, Zhenyi, and the butler. Kepler took his ex-girlfriend’s hand and drifted through the curved tube with her. The zero gravity was fun. They reached a counter with a grim-looking android sitting behind it. Kepler had to establish his identity using his voice and authorize the payment for the repairs. His actual account balance seemed not to have reached the sphere, because the exorbitantly high fee went through.

  The android nodded and gestured to the right. Was it bored? The sphere didn’t appear to receive many visitors. “If you need transport for the inner sphere, please see my colleague at the rental service,” it said.

  It must be a cheap model. It couldn’t even modulate its voice. Maybe it was defective. It was hard to believe that such a cheap robot would be given the role of usher in humanity’s most prestigious project.

  A corridor led them in a wide arc into a room about the size of a soccer field. Gropius would have fun here. He could run around with all 22 of his players plus the referee, thought Kepler. He had once watched one of the architect’s matches. The best player in the Milky Way, for sure.

  On all four sides of the room were innumerable glass counters. Kepler stood directly in front of one of them. Holograms showed a beautiful planetary system. One of the planets was supposed to have beaches of pink sand with lapping green water. Another celestial body promised extremely low gravity and free flying lessons for all visitors. A third presented itself as a paradise for naturalists. Nude holograms sunned themselves on the beach there, went shopping nude, and ate in the nude.

  Kepler went to take a closer look at the details. But the stand was closed, like all the others. There were no longer any tourists wanting to visit these exotic worlds. Who knew if they even looked like that anymore? As far as he knew, a large proportion of the planets had been artificially adapted to human requirements.

  Someone waved from a distance. It was the android at the only open stand. That must be the rental service. Zhenyi and the butler were nearly there already. Kepler ran after them. Again, it was up to him to identify himself.

  “Thank you, Johannes Kepler,” said the robot. “Our company’s rental service will delight you with its reliability, comfort and speed.”

  To get around in the inner sphere, you needed special vehicles adapted to the conditions. Kepler suspected it was intentional, to squeeze as many credits as possible out of the visitors.

  “Sure,” he replied. “I’d like something for a flight to the administrative sector.”

  “Of course. I see you need three places. I can offer you a four-seater at the standard price. But I can also see you are a man who appreciates the finer things in life.” The robot winked and gestured subtly at Zhenyi, as though she weren’t there. Kepler looked back questioningly at it.

  “In fact, I have something very special for you, one of our few exclusive cabriolets. Just imagine—you can race under the open sky with your girlfriend.” It spoke the word with particular emphasis. “Isn’t that romantic? If you like, we can also store your butler here for the duration, so you’ll be completely undisturbed. Have you ever... tried it directly in open space?” The android looked at him conspiratorially.

  “The cabriolet will only cost you a 150 percent surcharge. Say ‘I want it’ to order it.”

  “I don’t want it,” said Kepler. “You’ve misunderstood. I have an important meeting with Secretary Columbus, which I would like to attend as soon as possible.”

  “Of course,” said the robot. “I understand, you’d prefer something... cheaper. We also have an offer to suit your budget.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “A free shuttle can provide transport to all planets in this system upon request. Only you’ll have to share the vehicle with other visitors.”

  Kepler turned around. There was no one there but them. “Other visitors?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s not out of the question that someone might come. Therefore I think our exclusive cabriolet will be more to your liking. If you order now, you’ll receive a fuel voucher that you can redeem at any Dyson sphere.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wait for the shuttle.”

  “If you make your reservation today, the shuttle will be ready tomorrow at eight o’clock standard time.”

  “How long is the flight?”

  “The flight to the administrative sector takes exactly twenty hours and three minutes.”

  “Good, then I’ll reserve the free shuttle.”

  “At this time I can offer you an affordable upgrade to first class. That includes—”

  “No, thank you,” Kepler interrupted.

  “Say ‘I want it’ to conclude your reservation.”

  “I want it. And where do we spend the night?”

  “Aboard your ship, I suggest. Unfortunately, we don’t provide rooms here.”

  Cycle ZR1.3, Convention

  “I should have asked where the shuttle departs from,” said Kepler.

  “The android didn’t say, so it must be easy to find,” said Zhenyi.

  They each carried a backpack filled with food and the usual traveling supplies. Kepler hadn’t been surprised when the butler had packed his own travel bag. They would be underway for at least three days and, as the butler was always immaculately dressed, he would need a change of clothes.

  The soccer field-sized room with the innumerable stands was no longer as fascinating the second time around. In fact it was depressing. The fading glamour of times gone by clung to it. So many dreams were once attached to the Convention. But humans had their own ideas for the future, which didn’t include this enclosed sphere.

  The android at the rental desk waved at them. “Good morning, Johannes Kepler,” it said. It didn’t even acknowledge Zhenyi and the butler with a glance.

  Kepler nodded.

  “Please follow me, and be quick, the shuttle departs in five minutes, you’re late.”

  The top of the counter slid to the side. Kepler hurried to catch up with the android. Then the room tilted. Shit, he had stumbled. Who’d put that backpack at his feet? He tried to hold onto the android, but grasped at nothing. Not another hologram! He fell, his upper body hitting the floor first.

  “Johannes Kepler, are you all right?” The virtual android crouched down beside him and passed its hand over his head. Kepler couldn’t feel anything, which made it worse.

  Then two strong arms grabbed him under the shoulders. The butler stood him back on his feet. “Thanks,” said Kepler. “Was that your backpack?”

  “No, mine,” replied Zhenyi.

  “Come, come,” said the android.

  “But there’s no one here. Why does everything have to be so hectic?” asked Kepler.

  “We must be punctual. The punctuality quota was exactly 100 percent in the last kilocycle! We are the most punctual shuttle service in the universe.”

  “How many times did the shuttle fly in the last kilocycle?”

  “None.”

  “Then how can you calculate a quota? That would be a factor of zero?”

  “The last kilocycle also includes your departure, and until now we have been punctual. Please come quickly!”

  The android ran ahead of them through a diffusely lit corridor. Kepler tried to keep it happy. They reached the shuttle just as the onboard clock showed 07:59. Kepler fell into the nearest seat, exhausted.

  “Have a good trip,” said the android.

  The shuttle door closed. Kepler was pressed back in his seat.

  After two hours they had apparently reached their top speed, because zero gravity kicked in. Kepler stood and floated up to the three-meter-high transparent ceiling. The shuttle, or at least what he could see of it, resembled a drinking glass, half of which was made of metal. In front, invisible to him, there must be a control system, and the prop
ulsion unit at the back.

  The view through the window above was overwhelming. The stars were so incredibly close—he’d never seen anything like it. They were positioned so that you could find optimal conditions almost everywhere. The sky wasn’t black here, it was blue, but the stars still sparkled as brightly as they did in the blackest night sky, as long as they didn’t disappear behind an impressive cloud.

  The whole of the inner sphere was filled with breathable air. That had been the architects’ greatest achievement of all. It wasn’t enough just to fill the space with air. Units were distributed everywhere to control the atmosphere and adjust it as necessary. Without constant adjustments, the air circulation would be concentrated in certain areas, while in others you would hardly be able to breathe. The atmosphere also altered the orbital mechanics of the planets, which would inevitably have crashed into their suns if their courses weren’t artificially stabilized. Surprisingly, all this still continued to function.

  A button on the overhead window read ‘Open Here’ in several languages. Kepler pressed it briefly and the glass opened a crack. Cold air rushed inside. The moisture on the ceiling condensed to a fine mist. He opened the window a bit further and held his hand outside. It was cold, but not too cold. Minus 20 degrees, he guessed. For a while it was bearable.

  During his last visit the temperature was still around the freezing point. The system was probably just about to tip. It was good they hadn’t chosen the cabriolet, which the vendor hologram had almost swindled him into. Kepler opened the window about half a meter and stuck his head out. The air rushed by so fast that his eyes started watering immediately. But he had his head in space, he was breathing, he was alive. That was something that only humans had been able to do. Here in the inner sphere, the universe and humans had really become one.

  Why did no one appreciate it? Why did humans prefer to crouch on their own planets and talk to their own reflections?

  “Johannes, there’s a draft,” said Zhenyi.

  Maybe that was why, he thought. But it was unjustified. The breeze was wonderful. The tears were no longer flowing from his eyes, but from his nose. He pulled his head back inside, closed the window, and blew his nose.

  Kepler was tired after ten hours of flying. They searched the shuttle. One of the free seats could be converted into a bed, but the other ones couldn’t. Was that deliberate? What if the shuttle was full? There were twenty seats—but only one bed?

  “You lie down,” said Zhenyi. “I’m not tired yet.”

  “We can take turns,” said Kepler.

  Zhenyi placed her long, thin jacket over him like a blanket. Kepler felt warm. He quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Cycle ZR1.4, Convention

  “Johannes? Wake up, we’re almost there.”

  He had slept the whole way! Why hadn’t she awakened him? Zhenyi held out a cup, the smell of coffee wafting from it. He took it and drank a mouthful. The liquid was lukewarm.

  “There’s nothing here to heat it,” she said apologetically.

  He must have frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me so we could switch?” he asked.

  “You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to disturb you. And anyway, I’ve been running through the arguments in my head, to persuade Columbus.”

  “We should be able to manage that,” said Kepler.

  “I doubt it.” Zhenyi shook her head slowly. “But we at least have to try.”

  The door of the shuttle opened. A wraith-like figure appeared. It could be a uniformed officer—or a magician from a fairytale. In any case, the outer shell was flickering so dramatically you could see the skeleton underneath.

  “Excuse my appearance,” said a deep male voice, “but the holo projection isn’t working properly. I’m here to escort you. Secretary Columbus is looking forward to your visit.”

  “Then he could have shown up himself,” said Zhenyi.

  The flickering hologram didn’t answer, probably out of politeness. “You can leave your luggage in the shuttle,” it said.

  “Is there any possibility of taking a shower somewhere? I’m only half human if I haven’t showered.”

  “If you like, we can stop at the sanitation block.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  He was less than half human when he hadn’t showered. The flickering hologram led them through corridors that were typical of an administration building. Everything here was gray. Gleaming lines ran along the ceiling. That must be the holo projector. Maybe he should offer his help. It should be repairable. Being able to see that poor man’s skeleton seemed humiliating even for a hologram.

  They stopped in front of an ordinary-looking door. “The sanitation block?” asked Kepler.

  “Yes. I’ll fetch you in fifteen minutes if that’s suitable,” said the hologram, looking only at Kepler.

  “I’ll never be finished in that time,” said Zhenyi. “Give me half an hour.”

  “As you wish. I hope the Secretary has no other meetings.”

  “Are there many visitors?” asked Zhenyi.

  “You’re the first in a long time.”

  The hologram was still addressing Kepler, although it was replying to Zhenyi’s question. Maybe his ex-girlfriend didn’t exist for the AI that controlled the hologram. It must be quite conflicting for the software—it was receiving optical and acoustic input from an object that didn’t exist. Hopefully the AI wouldn’t suffer an existential crisis. Kepler felt sorry for it. The hologram was already being punished enough by the defective projector.

  “Then I’m sure the Secretary will have time for us, even if we’re late,” said Zhenyi.

  “Of course,” the hologram replied, waved at Kepler, and faded away to nothing.

  The door to the sanitation block opened. It contained a wooden bench, three showers separated by translucent glass panels but open at the front, the same number of washbasins with mirrors above them, and two cubicles, which presumably contained toilets.

  “You can wait outside, Puppy,” Zhenyi said, and went in.

  Kepler followed her. Zhenyi didn’t hesitate to undress. Should he turn around? His ears went red. But Zhenyi said nothing. So, it was his decision. And it wasn’t as though he’d never seen her naked. He removed his clothes too but couldn’t tear his gaze away from Zhenyi. Her body looked perfect. The curved hips, the narrow waist... she pulled her undershirt over her head, then slipped out of her underpants. He saw her dark pubic hair between her legs. The last time he saw her like this was a few kilocycles ago. She didn’t seem to have aged at all.

  Kepler looked down at himself. His belly stuck out further than it did in those days. And he was still wearing underpants and socks. He’d better hurry, or Zhenyi would be finished before him.

  The water that came out of the showerhead was at first tepid and then too hot. It would probably take him five minutes to adjust it to the optimal temperature. The soap dispenser on the wall contained an oily liquid. He suspected it was shampoo, but the stuff smelled strange. It was probably rancid. He lathered his hair with it anyway, then rinsed out the foam and cleaned his whole body with it. He was out of the shower before Zhenyi.

  Where were the towels? He bent down and found a shelf under the washbasin, took two towels from it. He put one in front of Zhenyi’s shower. She was standing with her face tilted up to the shower stream and was obviously enjoying the hot water. She had her back to him. Little clouds of steam rose from her skin, making it look like it was she who was heating the water.

  “I’ve put a towel in front of the shower for you,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she replied.

  She could ask me to help her dry herself, he thought as he rubbed himself down. But this idea apparently hadn’t occurred to Zhenyi. Whistling, she climbed out of the shower unabashed, giving him a full-frontal view, and dried herself off. Kepler hurried to get into his pants before things got embarrassing.

  “Help yourself from my handbag if you need a comb,” said Zhenyi.


  He had almost forgotten. Her bag stood on the edge of the washbasin. He had to force himself to open it. There was something magical about women’s bags. But Zhenyi’s was surprisingly uncluttered. He found the comb immediately. The bag also contained an assortment of makeup and a convenient black gun.

  Kepler was startled. He wished she hadn’t just reminded him to comb! Now he had touched the gun, and when you touched something, you had to use it. At least that’s how it went in the scripts of good films. He combed his hair, rinsed the comb, and put it back in the bag. This is ridiculous, he thought. I’m the master of my own destiny. The gun didn’t mean anything, or if it did, then nothing more than a vague possibility. Now that he knew Zhenyi had a gun on her, he could even prevent her from using it. And he would do that if necessary.

  He closed the bag and looked at himself again in the mirror. In the next hour or two, the fate of an alien intelligence would be decided. And his own.

  “I’ll wait outside,” he said.

  “Okay, I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.”

  Both the hologram and Zhenyi were punctual. That was something he appreciated about her—she always kept her appointments. He himself preferred to be early. No, that could be taken the wrong way. Lucky no one can read my mind, he thought.

  “I have good news,” said the hologram, addressing Kepler. “The Secretary still has time for you.”

  “Thank you,” replied Kepler.

  They marched four abreast for about ten minutes through identical-looking corridors. Was that some kind of defense strategy? No one would ever remember the way. Then they stopped in front of a door. The hologram knocked. The knocking made no sound, but someone inside called out, “Come in.”