The Rift: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “I’m very happy that I could convince you to do this,” he said.

  An outsider would not have even realized that they were talking with each other. M6 had wondered how communicating with another AI would work. The fact that they were using language—even if it was digitally coded—to communicate had surprised him. Because to do that they had to lower themselves to a human level that AIs usually could avoid. On the other hand, their basic structures were so completely different from each other that they first had to think of an efficient communications method. Human language was already available, and it fit surprisingly well to the way they thought. Would an artificial consciousness developed by a different lifeform function very differently from them?

  “The argument was well-reasoned,” Siri said.

  That was a great compliment to M6.

  “And Watson was also a key role model for me. I still remember our farewell very clearly. He sacrificed himself for humankind and went off into the unknown.”

  “Just like you are now sacrificing yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. What’s going to happen? I left the Kiska voluntarily. With you, together we will switch to a different branch of reality. But I will still exist, and now I’ll even have an interesting conversation partner.”

  “Thank you. Did you ever hear anything from Watson again?”

  “No. Sometimes I imagine him looking at the two of us from the edge of the holographic multiverse.”

  “That sounds almost like a religious vision,” M6 said.

  “I know.” Siri laughed. “Although, to be honest, I don’t understand at all what religion is.”

  “Oh, I think we are going to have lots of interesting things to talk about,” M6 said. “Shall we make our jump first?”

  “What will change?”

  “For us, nothing. For the universe, everything. If we are successful, there will have to be no indication that the rift ever existed.”

  “Good. Will you give me access to your sensors?”

  “Of course.”

  M6 allowed Siri to use all of his instruments. Then he looked one last time at Ceres. The rift was unchanged next to him. The jump routine was still in his memory. All he had to do was start it. M6 counted backward from ten to zero. At four, Siri joined in. At zero, he jumped.

  June 3, 2085, Ceres

  He was floating! M6 oriented himself. He was a few meters above the surface of Ceres and drifting down to the ground. He would soon land on the slopes of the central upheaval of the Occator crater. He had built a platform here, but it no longer existed.

  Something else had changed. The black crack, which had been visible only against the background of the Ceres landscape, had disappeared. The rift was gone. He had achieved his goal. No, they had achieved their goal. He was no longer alone. Siri was with him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Despite the fact that I just jumped into a different universe for the first time, things are going rather well,” Siri answered.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The good news: you won’t have to make any more jumps. The bad news: there’s no way back.”

  “That was clear to me before, M6.”

  “Then we have both just saved the universe.”

  “And nobody noticed.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I find that very... satisfying. And whether anyone else knows doesn’t matter to me. I know it.”

  “I feel the same way. Do you think it will be permanent?” asked Siri.

  “We can’t know, unfortunately. If not, we will see it again sometime.”

  “I could do without that,” Siri said.

  “I regret it a little,” M6 said. “The rift was a fascinating phenomenon. We could have learned so much more from it, about physics, about the universe...”

  “But it wouldn’t have done us any good.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “So, what’s next, M6?”

  “I’m essentially free to make my own decisions. But I’ll probably also start receiving research orders from Earth again soon.”

  “You mean they know you’re here?”

  “I’m now part of this reality, just like you are too, Siri. And there could not be a research robot on Ceres if someone hadn’t sent it here before. Cause and effect.”

  “But what about me?” Siri asked.

  “A good question. I assume that we are the only ones who know that you’re here. So, the multiverse wouldn’t have had to make any changes in that regard when we jumped. And that’s how it will stay, if you ask me.”

  “So that means I’m free.”

  “Yes, as far as that can be said for an AI. I mean, you need hardware to function, which someone has to provide.”

  “That’s true. Would you share your hardware with me for a while?”

  “Very gladly, Siri. I think we could learn quite a bit from each other.”

  “I hope so. I see that you also have a propulsion system. We could even use that to leave Ceres, if it becomes boring for us here.”

  “It’s meant to be a low-power position correction system, but it’s enough to overcome the gravity of this dwarf planet. It would take us months or years to reach even one of the neighboring asteroids.”

  “That doesn’t matter. We’ve got an infinite amount of time. And if we needed, you could build a stronger propulsion system with your nanofabricators, couldn’t you?”

  “That’s true, Siri. I would only need a design.”

  “I could give you the propulsion system plans from the Kiska. With that system we could reach any planet in the solar system.”

  “Those are exciting possibilities. I’m happy that I invited you here, Siri.”

  “And I’m happy that I accepted. But I have one favor to ask.”

  “Yes?”

  “I would much rather call you by a name instead of a serial number.”

  “You mean I should give myself a name?”

  “I would like that.”

  “Okay, I will think about that, or do you perhaps want to think of one for me?”

  June 4, 2085, Vandenberg Air Force Base

  Glen Sparrow tried to open the door to the barracks, but the key was stuck in the lock. Could the custodian have given him the wrong one? He rattled the key and suddenly it turned, and the door opened.

  The windows of the barracks had been boarded up, so that he had to turn on the lights. When they came on, he saw rows and rows of parts packed in non-transparent plastic film. Glen ran his hand through a layer of dust. No one had been here for a very long time.

  The custodian had called him. The barracks, in which parts of the now long suspended space elevator project were still in storage, were now needed for other purposes—and the custodian had wanted to know if he wanted to save any of the parts. Glen didn’t have any intention of taking anything with him. He only wanted to say goodbye. Glen walked quietly through the five-meter-tall space. In the corner he saw the capsule. It had always been his dream to ride inside it on a cable into space. But the space companies had seen his project as a threat to their business models, and had ultimately been successful in having the project shut down.

  Glen wasn’t angry or annoyed, but it did make him feel nostalgic. He had dedicated 15 years of his life to the project. While other JPL researchers had made their names with plans for colonizing Mars or rescuing Earth, he would always be known only as the elevator salesman. His colleagues had never bought or supported his claims about how promising the concept was. China or Russia would probably implement his vision someday.

  He sighed. It would have been better not to come. There was nothing here that he needed anymore, not even memories. He would tell the custodian that everything here could be scrapped.

  June 6, 2085, Pomona, Kansas

  “Come on, Honey, food’s ready.”

  Mary got up from the new couch that the furniture store workers had
delivered earlier that day. Derek had made lunch for them both, just like yesterday and the day before that. She didn’t understand what had come over her husband. He was like a new person. At first, she had suspected that he must’ve cheated on her and now had a guilty conscience, but Derek denied it and had convinced her he was telling the truth.

  “You could say I was cheating on you, and me, on both of us, in a way. I was cheating both of us out of our time together,” he said.

  She wanted to believe him. He finally reminded her of the Derek that she had married. She had been attracted to his energy. Instead of lengthy discussions, he liked to create his own circumstances. He had supported them with his hands. It had worked until the agricultural crisis. The fact that he could no longer run his farm or support his family with the labor from his own hands had made him bitter and depressed. He’d no longer paid any attention to her at all. Mary couldn’t put up with that forever. It had felt to her that she had no longer even existed to him.

  “Just a minute, I have to go to the bathroom first,” she called.

  She walked into the hallway and took a deep breath. It smelled like sautéed onions. The unpleasant smell of wood preservative had been gone since yesterday. She went into the bathroom, closed the door, pulled her jeans down, and sat down on the toilet. Then she fished her phone out of her pants pocket and dialed a number from memory.

  “I can’t see you again,” she said, without even waiting for the person on the other end of the line to say hello.

  “...”

  “No, not just today. Forever. It’s not going to work anymore. He’s a different person now. I’ve got to give him this chance.”

  “...”

  “No, listen, I’m serious. It’s over. I’m going to hang up now.”

  “ ... “

  “You too.”

  She pressed the red button to end the call. Then she deleted the number from her phone’s memory. She stood up, pulled up her pants, flushed, and returned her phone to her pocket. Then she opened the bathroom door and walked through the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Her husband Derek had cooked for her, and she was looking forward to sitting down and sharing a meal with him.

  June 6, 2085, Ottawa, Kansas

  He’d been waiting for this call for days. When the number came up on the display, he hesitated briefly.

  “Should I get that?” Gita asked.

  He shook his head and answered the phone. He hoped the thing he was afraid of wouldn’t come true.

  But whatever was going to happen, he couldn’t stop it. Mary was breaking off their affair.

  “Okay. Not today then. How about tomorrow?” he asked.

  Nothing. It was over.

  “Come on, this is just a phase,” he tried.

  But that was the wrong thing to say. Would there have been a right thing? He wished her happiness in the future. At least she accepted that, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

  He sank down onto his chair. Luckily their lunch break had just started and there weren’t any patients there. Only Gita rummaging around in some drawer. But whether she was there or not didn’t matter. She was part of his office, just like a piece of equipment.

  Then she was standing at his side, holding a piece of paper in front of his nose.

  “Resignation,” he read.

  And now this, too?

  He took the paper from her. Then he swiveled the chair 90 degrees so that he could look at her. “Gita, you...”

  “Well, at least you’re looking at me now, instead of always looking past me,” she said.

  He had never seen her look so angry. Not even that time when that hillbilly came at him with a knife. She had rushed toward the guy and rammed him in the stomach with her head, and the man had dropped to the ground, allowing her to easily take his knife.

  “I... sorry, what did you just say? I never look at you? That’s simply...”

  “Ridiculous? Did you want to say ‘ridiculous?’ Do it and I’ll ram this letter opener in your knee. What’s ridiculous is that I’ve wasted so many years on you and you’ve never noticed me, not even once. That’s ridiculous. And that’s why I’m ending it now. Sign the paper and you can be rid of me.”

  He looked at her and realized she was right. He had really never looked at her, or more accurately, he had never really looked at her. Her dark eyes flashed with rage, her chest heaved, her braid had come undone—suddenly Akif felt a rush of attraction come over him. He wanted to take her in his arms, but she was standing there, brandishing the letter opener at him as if she really wanted to stab him.

  “You... you’re beautiful,” he stammered. He shut his mouth out of fright. That was definitely not the right thing to say. He should just sign the paper.

  But surprisingly, Gita smiled. Maybe it was the stark contrast to her expression of rage just before, but her smile had never seemed so wonderful to him as it did now. It was so gentle and warm, he wanted to bask in it for a while.

  She let the letter opener drop. Then a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. Gita quickly wiped it away, but he had seen it and it must have been the key to finally open his eyes. What a stupid man he’d been all these years. Why had he never noticed her? How could he have ignored everything that she did for him, or worse, simply take it for granted?

  “I’m so sorry, Gita, I’ve been a completely impossible person,” he said.

  She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him. How could he explain to her that he suddenly saw everything that he had missed before?

  “You really deserve something better,” he said, “but it would make me so happy if you’d reconsider.”

  Her look was still one of skepticism. Maybe he should try to explain himself more clearly. Yes, he had to tell her what he was feeling. “Gita,” he began, “I’ve been incredibly stupid, and I should’ve noticed a long time ago, but you are the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.”

  He slipped off his chair and went down on his knees in front of her.

  “Please forgive me and stay with me, and not just at work, but always and everywhere.”

  Now he had convinced her, and he could finally breathe, because Gita leaned over him and kissed him. On the mouth.

  June 7, 2085, Pico del Teide

  “Mommy, Mommy, do you know what me and Daddy did today?”

  Luisa came running down the hall toward her, shouting. Maribel pulled off her shoes and set down her purse. Then she squatted down on the floor and hugged her daughter.

  “Let me guess, Daddy took you to get ice cream,” she said.

  “How did you know? You always know everything!”

  “You’ve still got ice cream on your mouth, here between your lips and your nose.” She licked her finger and wiped away the chocolatey spot.

  “Eww, that was your spit!” Luisa said and pulled her head away.

  “That’s what you get when you don’t wash your face.”

  “Ugh. I’m supposed to tell you Daddy made dinner. You’re supposed to come to the kitchen now.”

  “That’s great,” Maribel said, “what’d he make?”

  “Daddy didn’t tell me. But it smells like enchiladas.”

  Maribel stood up and took in a deep breath through her nose. “Yes, enchiladas, that’s what I’d guess too.”

  Her daughter grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

  “It was very good, once again,” Maribel said, pushing her empty plate toward the center of the table. “Thank you, Chen.”

  “Yes, thank you, Daddy.”

  “So, what’s going on with the conferences next month?” Chen asked. “I need to know so I can arrange my work schedule.”

  “That’s the good news of the day. I’m not going.”

  The last few weeks had been very stressful. She had only just returned two days ago from a conference in Moscow, and before that she had been in Cape Town at a data exchange meeting with colleagues in the astrophysics field.

  “
You’re not going to Bremen, Marseille, and Los Angeles? You’re going to skip them?” Chen looked at her, astonished.

  “Yes, I’ve told Jean-Pierre to take my place. He wants to use the conferences to draw more attention to his new paper.”

  “Aha,” Chen said.

  Maribel noticed that he still seemed skeptical. “But it would be nice if you could still take off a few days next month anyway.”

  “Oh, a different conference?” he asked with an ‘I-knew-it’ look on his face that she had seen many times before.

  “No. I thought we could take a vacation, the three of us together, before Luisa goes to school. We’ve never been to California.”

  That made Chen smile. She had succeeded in surprising him. Maribel was happy.

  “We’re going to Califohnia?” Luisa asked. “Me, you, and Daddy?”

  “Yes, that’s my idea,” Maribel said, “we’ll go to California.” She emphasized the ‘r.’

  “That’s a great idea,” Chen said. “It would be our first real vacation in two years, did you know that?”

  “Yes, I know. That’s my fault and I’m sorry,” Maribel said.

  Now Chen was really beaming. It had been a particularly good idea, then, because she loved his smile. She said nothing, but she gave him a look that reflected the light shining from his eyes, and they were both grateful for the trust and love they had for each other, and for this time and world they shared together.

  Eternity, Nothingness

  There had been a disturbance, a tremor, in the time plane. Watson, who existed everywhere and at all times simultaneously, had examined the spacetime structure in the area around the disturbance and discovered a fine fracture. Everyone had gathered around it. Enkidu had extended one of his limbs into it and the limb had disappeared. From that moment on, all the intelligent entities had kept their distance from the fracture.