Tarassov wondered what the man wanted with him. Then he remembered that this man was responsible for the radio contact with the mobile research robots.
“Has another relay failed?” Tarassov asked, tapping impatiently on the desktop.
“No, the relays are working very well, at least the ones that we’re in contact with right now.”
“So, what do you want?”
“It’s about M6.”
“What about M6?”
“He’s not there anymore.”
“What do you mean, Kirilenko?”
“The robot no longer exists.”
“You mean you’ve lost contact with it?”
“No, I mean its physical existence has been terminated.”
“Why do you always have to talk in such a convoluted way? It’s either there or it’s not. Isn’t that enough?”
“I... um, I...”
“Why are you waffling so much? What’s the problem?”
“I double checked our database. We have records for robots M1 to M5 and then M7 to M15. But no M6.”
“That’s impossible! Where would M6 have been stationed if it existed?”
“Ceres,” Kirilenko said.
“Yes, Ceres, that sounds right,” Tarassov answered. “The Americans asked us for help because the rift ends there. Are you sure we have no research units there?”
“As I said, all the memory banks are empty. It’s been two years since we removed the T-series from there, and we haven’t had any new findings on Ceres since. If there was an M-robot there, it would’ve sent us data.”
“But Kirilenko, Ceres is the queen of the asteroid belt. It would be an inexcusable mistake if we didn’t put any research units there.” A mistake that would be laid squarely on his own shoulders, Tarassov knew.
“Like I said, the database...”
“Databases can be erased. What does the real evidence say?”
“We’ve looked at pictures from the satellite we have orbiting Ceres. It’s clear from those pictures that there’s no mobile unit there.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that!” Tarassov was at a loss. How could this happen to him? Could he somehow have overlooked stationing an M-unit on Ceres? If that were true, then he would deserve to lose his job. He put his arms down on the desk. The corners of his mouth dropped. “And what am I supposed to tell the people at NASA now? I promised them measurements from Ceres in exchange for their data.”
“Maybe tell them the truth.” Kirilenko wiggled his eyebrows, showing no sign of his earlier timidity. He was trying to indicate that he didn’t mean this version of the truth, but some different one. “Namely that we had a robot there, but we can’t locate it anymore.”
Tarassov thought he knew what Kirilenko had in mind. With that lie—that altered truth—he could remain at the head of the institute. But his successor would have to be Kirilenko. If he followed this suggestion, Kirilenko would have him in his back pocket.
“A robot that disappears from one moment to the next, isn’t that great news? Especially because we found something in the images that supports this claim nicely.” Kirilenko took a dramatic pause.
“Well, tell me!”
“Something built a kind of platform up to where the rift ends. It looks as if that something wanted to study—or at least take a closer look at—the rift. What if that was M6’s work? And why is there no trace of him in our database?”
Kirilenko was being a scoundrel, and the bait was too tempting to resist. Tarassov decided to support this version of the truth.
June 2, 2085, Grand Junction, Colorado
Akif yawned. He pinched his thigh. The pain woke him up, at least briefly. Then he patted his cheeks. He had already tried everything, but he just wasn’t used to driving for such long distances. The air was blowing such cold air in his face that his eyes were watering. Derek was snoring behind him with his legs stretched out. Gita had covered herself in a blanket and was curled up like a small dog. He didn’t think he would be flexible enough to do that.
Maybe it would’ve been better if Gita had stayed behind in Kansas. He realized that he was worried about her. That was something new, something exciting and scary at the same time. Earlier he had thought of her as one of life’s givens, something that was just always there when you needed it, almost like a piece of furniture. She had been working for years at her starting salary and he had never thought to wonder why Gita had never asked for a raise or looked for a better paying job. He decided that she must simply be satisfied with what she had.
That was an art form that he had never mastered. Akif was always unsatisfied, even as a kid. It had become obvious to him that he would never change, so he refrained from trying to get to know women. He knew at some point he would become dissatisfied with them and then look for someone new. He also could use his money to satisfy his needs. As a doctor, he certainly wasn’t paid poorly, and with prostitutes, you usually got what you paid for, he had found.
Then Mary had come along—according to his memory, at least, if not the patient records. Mary, the discontented soul. He had recognized her as a kindred spirit, and she had felt like he understood her, even though their sources of dissatisfaction had been vastly different. Mary had not been happy with what was. He was unhappy because of what could be. Between them, there had been no difference.
He shook his head. Which of them were real memories—an actual past—and which were make-believe? For a moment he had even thought to stow away in the space elevator with Derek, so as to not leave Mary alone with him. But then it became clear to him how crazy the idea was. On the rear seat, rolled up and covered by a blanket, that was his reality. He would be an idiot to ignore her. Gita was a good person. He was truly and unbelievably lucky that she had found him and stuck by him for so long.
A yellow light illuminated to indicate that the tank was getting low on fuel. He would have to wake Derek. Akif spotted a place to pull off, put on the turn signal, and stopped.
“Hey, Derek,” he said quietly so as not to wake Gita, then reached for Derek’s knee.
“Are we there?”
“Unfortunately, no. We need gas. Maybe we can do it without waking Gita.”
In the rearview mirror, he watched as Derek tried to open the door as quietly as possible. He unbuckled himself and held onto the seatbelt so that it wouldn’t retract too loudly. Then he opened the driver’s door. Hot. A hot, dry wind was blowing. Outside, it was a good five degrees warmer than inside the truck.
He got out and stretched his legs. As Derek passed him he put his hand briefly on Derek’s shoulder. “Wake me in two hours, okay?”
“As you wish, Akif.”
The two men climbed back into the truck, Derek as driver, Akif onto the rear seat. Derek started the engine and drove on. At the gas station, only Derek got out, so only he would show up on any security camera films. The truck’s windows had a dark tint, so no one could see passengers in the back seat.
Akif quickly fell into a fitful sleep after they left the gas station. His dreams featured the rift in the starring role. It had the shape of a ribbon, and someone had wrapped it around his body so that he couldn’t move.
June 2, 2085, Ceres
The reply that M6 received from Earth was anything but satisfying. His supervisor, a certain Kirilenko, suggested he was experiencing a memory error and recommended that he run thorough system diagnostics and then repair his memory cells. Because, of course, life was based on right-handed amino acids. It was only logical that he would therefore only find that variant in his organic modules.
M6 knew better. His systems were working correctly. So, there was only one possible conclusion. He wasn’t defective. Instead, the rift had changed his world. It was clear to M6 that this was a radical theory that nobody else would accept. It was almost impossible to expect anyone to believe him, even if logic was on his side. The only question was what he should do with this knowledge.
The simplest thing would be for him to con
tinue with the orders that he’d already been given. Surely Ceres still had a huge amount of interesting data to offer. He estimated that there were enough research topics here to keep him working for at least 50 years, with his current capabilities. It would provide him with immensely satisfying activities. It would be similar to putting together a puzzle, except that he first had to find all the puzzle pieces. They were scattered everywhere around here, in the crust, on the surface, he would not be able to dig up everything, but he had a good chance to create an identifiable overall picture from the pieces that he would be able to find.
However, the cleft—apparently they were calling it ‘the rift’ on earth—was also here, a phenomenon that nobody else had studied as thoroughly as he had. M-units like him were working on many other celestial bodies. They were eager data collectors. But he alone was on Ceres, and he alone had the chance to become something incredibly special. He no longer had to be M-System Number 6, manufactured after Number 5 and before Number 7, because he could become the AI that cracked the mystery of the rift—that understood it—if that was even possible at all. He had a chance that not even his creators could have provided. Didn’t that mean it would be a waste to not seize this chance?
M6 believed he would have to weigh and decide between the two possibilities. That had become clear to him after he went through his previous findings again. He had already gone into the rift once, so he couldn’t stop now. The rift had changed him. It had mirrored individual parts of his components, so that now they had spatially different constructions. He was no longer M6. Even his creators would no longer accept him as the machine that they had built and supplied with an adaptive AI. He couldn’t go back, so in actuality he had no choice at all. M6 would have to continue along this path.
Part of the data packet from Earth had included new orders for him. He decided he would ignore them. First, he must figure out where he was. It was, in any case, not the world from which he had come. Via the Deep Space Network, M6 had access to the Earth’s data networks. That was intended to help him gather information by himself for his research orders. The scientists in Novosibirsk therefore didn’t have to worry whether he had the necessary expert knowledge, because he could always just search the databanks for whatever he was missing. He had to request feature and capability upgrades, but knowledge he could just download by himself. What interested him now were the contents of online encyclopedias from all around the world. The download would take approximately two hours.
The data packet had arrived. M6 unpacked and decompressed it. He didn’t care about knowing when some politician was born or who, according to the authors of that particular encyclopedia, had discovered America. Instead, he was looking for contradictions and discrepancies. That was something he was especially good at—he could search through a huge deluge of facts in a short amount of time and determine how many contradictions appeared. M6 gave the job to his subconscious. It would notify him when the processing was complete.
In his conscious mind, he ran an analysis on himself. Why had he started this check? Because he himself embodied one big contradiction. He had reached this world, and yet he had retained memories of his origin. The universe could have saved itself from him noticing anything if it had simply had him forget that he once had left-handed memory molecules. Why was that not the case? The simplest solution was that he was defective, as his supervisor suggested. But he didn’t believe it. From an outside perspective, that would only go to further confirm the theory that he was defective. What crazy person admits that he’s crazy? But he couldn’t do that himself, and he knew that it might be a weakness in his theory.
But it was also possible that this contradiction was only part of an endless chain of contradictions that stretched through this world like the rift itself. That would be a terrible consequence. The whole existence of the universe depended upon an effect coming after its cause. First there had been the Big Bang, and then the end of the universe. At the smallest scale, in the quantum world, that was not necessarily true, but so far quantum phenomenon had never been able to be scaled up to the dimensions of visible objects. Was the rift perhaps a giant quantum disturbance? Then his existence could throw the entire universe into chaos and possibly threaten to wipe it out.
His subconscious reported that the analysis was complete. The results shocked him. The number of contradictions was enormous. They weren’t contradictory opinions, but instead facts that were recognized by everyone, and yet definitely did not fit together. But why had none of the inhabitants of Earth noticed? Because they were trapped in these contradictions and their logic was so strained that the contradictions appeared to go away.
It was as if the universe was trying to cover the holes in logic with patches. No one could see the holes themselves anymore, if you hadn’t come from outside this universe like M6, but the patches could still be detected if you went looking for them. But why would anyone go looking if they didn’t see a reason to? Should he warn them? Who would believe him—a robot with faulty memory chips? No, he had to try to solve the problem himself. Maybe that was the reason why he, of all entities, had been given this one singular chance.
M6 moved to the edge of the platform and jumped into the blackness—as he had already done once before.
June 2, 2085, Pasadena
Today was the big day. Maribel came out of the bathroom, her hair still wet. She tried to be as quiet as possible because Luisa was still asleep. She thought about her daughter, who was all stretched out in the middle of the bed. Whenever she breathed, a strand of hair danced out of the way. She was so beautiful! Maribel couldn’t help herself. She kneeled on the bed and gently stroked her daughter’s bare leg. Luisa continued to sleep.
That was fine with Maribel. She had argued with Chen yesterday for a long time about whether he and Luisa should attend the first manned launch of the space elevator. Maribel would have liked her family to be there, but Chen was strictly against it.
“I already thought you died once. I can’t watch without going through all that all over again,” he had said.
That day, back in ‘72, a rocket had exploded, and Maribel was supposed to have been on board. Chen had watched the launch and saw the explosion on television, but hadn’t known that she hadn’t boarded the rocket, having decided right before take-off not to board it.
“This project is completely different. It’s totally safe. We’re taking off from an active military base,” Maribel argued, but her husband wasn’t about to change his mind.
“You can decide for yourself what you want to do, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it,” he had said, “but I don’t want Luisa to have to go through anything like that.”
Maribel had finally decided to go along with what her husband wanted. She knew, deep down, that Chen had a point. The space elevator had been tested, it was true, but no technology was 100 percent safe, especially not something so completely new. It was impossible. They hadn’t yet told Luisa what world-changing event was taking place that morning, and it would stay that way. That’s why it was good that she was still asleep, because it would probably be impossible for Maribel to hide her excitement.
She walked out of the bedroom as quietly as she had entered. Chen had gotten up with her and he was sitting, dressed, on the sofa. He watched her dress. She let the towel she had wrapped around herself drop to the floor, took her underwear from the chair, and stepped into it. Then she put on her bra. She pulled on some cotton pants, black-and-white striped, and then a white V-neck T-shirt. Everything very plain. It didn’t matter. There was a NASA uniform waiting for her at the base.
“You are beautiful,” Chen said suddenly.
“Thank you.”
The compliment made her truly happy.
“And thank you for taking care of Luisa today. And every day. And for always being there for me and our family.”
All at once she felt all the feelings come rushing up inside her—saying goodbye, the uncertainty, but also her love for Chen a
nd Luisa. She wished that they could go with her.
Her phone vibrated. That must be the car she had called. It was—it had sent her its location. “I’ve got to go,” she said.
“What, no make-up, no fancy hairdo today?” Chen teased her.
“That wouldn’t be very practical for the space elevator. But you’re right, I’ve forgotten to blow-dry my hair.”
She disappeared quickly into the bathroom and dried her hair. When she walked out of the bathroom, Chen was standing there in front of her. He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace.
The self-driving vehicle had been driving for almost an hour with its passenger inside when a message came in.
“Glen Sparrow would like to talk with you,” the automatic system’s voice said.
“Thank you, please connect.”
“One moment.”
“Maribel! I’m glad I was able to reach you.”
Sparrow looked very agitated. His bald head was dotted by red splotches.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. Everything’s in total chaos here.”
“Problem with the hardware?”
“No, everything’s operating perfectly. The base has been placed under a bomb alert. There’s some cult that’s worried God’s place in heaven will be desecrated by our mission.”
Maribel nodded. She had heard about groups like that. They often tried to block rocket launches. Before, they had always protested peacefully, chaining themselves to launch pads or blocking the airspace with gliders.
“And they’re now threatening to set off a bomb?”
“Nobody here believes they really would. The group has never resorted to violence before. But last time their disruptive actions weren’t at all successful. Maybe the bomb threat’s a new tactic. They know we can’t just ignore it. It doesn’t matter how unlikely it is, the base will have to be cleared and thoroughly searched.”
The Rift: Hard Science Fiction Page 22