The Dark Freeze

by Peter Gregory

  As the weeks passed and the religious turmoil intensified, Liz and Rupert discussed the topic too. Although neither was religious, the boundaries of science and religion intrigued them. ‘I know you’re not religious,’ said Liz, ‘but don’t you feel sorry for the billions of people who believed and have had their beliefs shattered?’

  Rupert paused before answering, composing his response. ‘Yes and no. I feel genuinely sorry for those people with little or no education who found great comfort in religion,’ he replied, ‘but not for those educated people who refuse to even consider the alternatives. The scientific facts. The beauty of the Big Bang theory of the creation of the Universe and the stunning simplicity and sheer elegance of the theory of evolution by natural selection. They’re far more wondrous and awe inspiring than some supernatural being who’s been around forever and who created everything in seven days.’

  ‘Six,’ interrupted Liz. ‘God rested on the seventh day.’

  Rupert ignored her interruption and carried on. ‘The formation of the first atoms from the plasma of the Big Bang 13.7 billion years ago; the formation of the first stars as gravity crushed the hydrogen atoms together; the resulting nuclear fusion to produce light and heat, and the forging of the lighter elements, such as carbon, nitrogen and oxygen, in these nuclear furnaces; and spectacular supernovae to create the heavier elements such as silver and gold. And finally, for gravity to form all this stardust into planets, planets on which life evolved. Everything, Liz, absolutely everything, is made from stardust. Including you and me.’

  ‘That’s all perfectly true,’ said Liz, about to play devil’s advocate, ‘but I don’t see how what you’ve said undermines religious beliefs. After all, the Christian Church accepts the Big Bang theory of creation and even the Hindus don’t dismiss it, do they?’

  ‘You’re right on both counts,’ replied Rupert, ‘and no, what I’ve just said doesn’t undermine religion. But what I’m about to say does.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Liz.

  ‘Well, both you and I believe that life, like the Universe, evolved naturally.’

  ‘We do,’ said Liz.

  ‘That it arose spontaneously when molecules “learned’’ to replicate themselves. To make copies of themselves. These replicators, the RNA and DNA molecules, progressed to single-celled organisms and then, over approximately two billion years, to multi-celled organisms.’

  ‘I know all of this,’ said Liz. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘My point is that these multi-celled organisms eventually evolved into complex life forms, such as the dinosaurs, which ruled the Earth for hundreds of millions of years. Until their extinction 65 million years ago, they were the pinnacle of creation. So, if dinosaurs had religion, God would have made them in his image and God would have been a dinosaur.

  ‘Following the extinction of the dinosaurs and other large land-based animals, a little mouse-like mammal flourished, a mouse-like mammal that led, eventually, to the hominids, the forerunners of homo sapiens. Of us. So, at that point in time, about two million years ago, the hominids were the pinnacle of creation, so God would have been a hominid.’

  ‘I see where you’re going with this,’ said Liz, ‘that at any point in time the dominant species regards itself as the pinnacle of creation.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Rupert. ‘Currently, that pinnacle of creation happens to be us. But in one, ten or a hundred million years, our descendants will be totally different to us. And, if religion still exists, which I very much doubt, they too will believe they are created in the image of God. So you see, Liz, it’s a transient thing. The image of God changes with time. The assertion that man was created in the image of God is a falsehood. The problem,’ he concluded, ‘is that evolutionary change is so slow and so subtle that no one notices.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Liz, clearly impressed with Rupert’s explanation, ‘but surely religion only applies to intelligent life, not to dinosaurs, mouse-like mammals and hominids?’

  ‘I was making a point,’ replied Rupert, ‘and anyway, how do you define intelligence? Chimpanzees, whales and dolphins are intelligent. They all can’t be made in the image of God.’

  ‘I was thinking more of a highly advanced technological civilisation capable of communicating and travelling across interstellar space and interested in finding other intelligence’s,’ said Liz.

  ‘You mean intelligent life like us,’ said Rupert.

  ‘I suppose I do,’ replied Liz. ‘Like us but much more technologically advanced.’

  ‘Mm,’ mused Rupert. ‘Do I detect a lack of imagination here?’

  Liz changed the subject. ‘Don’t you believe in anything… supernatural?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean, Liz?’ queried Rupert. ‘Ghosts?’

  ‘No, not ghosts. Things like a… like a ‘‘Superintelligence’’ watching over the Universe. Guiding its progress.’

  ‘Like a God?’

  ‘No, not a God, like a… It’s difficult to explain.’

  ‘Well,’ said Rupert, ‘over the 13.7 billion year history of the Universe, I believe that life has arisen countless times. Most of it will have been primitive life but some will have evolved into intelligent life, of which some will have developed into extremely advanced life forms, advanced enough to discard their physical bodies and exist as pure energy. Pure thought. Whole civilisations existing as an amorphous mass of pure thought. Billions of minds coalesced into one. After all, Einstein showed that matter and energy are just two forms of the same thing with his famous equation, E = mc2, where E is energy and m is matter.’

  ‘Mm, a bit like a super soul,’ said Liz thoughtfully, copying Rupert.

  ‘You could look at it that way,’ replied Rupert, ‘but one that’s evolved naturally. A Superintelligence.’

  ‘And you think these could be, er, floating around the Universe, making sure it behaves itself?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Rupert. ‘It’s more plausible than a God.’

  A cough interrupted their conversation. A polite cough. It was Frank. He was standing at the door. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing the last part of your, er, metaphysical discussion,’ he said. ‘It’s an interesting idea. The reason I’m here,’ he continued, ‘is because Viv wants us in the meeting room. I think he has some news.’

  ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ said Viv to the scientists gathered in the meeting room. ‘I’ve brought you here to report some good news.’ An outbreak of expectant conversation filled the room. ‘Some progress has been made on decoding the signals. By linking up to the world’s most powerful computers, our scientists have managed to decode some of the algorithms, but not all of them. They appear to contain information on the local environment around where the meteorites landed. Information on the composition of the atmosphere, the land, the ice, the temperature and the microbial life. However,’ concluded Viv, ‘there’s no sign whatsoever of any ‘‘contact message’’.’

  14

  A Lull

  The following weeks saw frenetic activity in observatories around the world. Every astronomer, every astronomical team, wanted to be the one to discover the source of the alien probes. To be immortalised. For eternity.

  In the USA, NASA pulled out all the stops, deploying all its sophisticated resources, led by Carl Ryan’s NEO team and the SETI team. Charged with the early detection of space objects that posed a potential threat to Earth, in 2008 the NEO team detected 11,327 objects of all sizes. But their main aim was to detect at least 90 per cent of all potentially dangerous objects that were one kilometre wide or more. Thankfully, they hadn’t detected any of those.

  The European Space Agency (ESA), particularly Viv’s UK team, which relied on the radio telescopes at Jodrell Bank plus the Faulkes optical telescope, and Professor Alan Harris’s NEO Shield team, part of Germany’s Institute for Planetary Research, a multinational group of
scientists based in Berlin, were modest by comparison, but still successful. All the teams tracked potentially hazardous objects by taking photographs of their positions on successive nights and then ‘joined the dots’ to see if they were on a collision course with Earth.

  Employing this technique, the teams had discovered an asteroid about the size of three football pitches that will make the closest flyby of Earth in recorded history for an object that size. At about 10.00 p.m. London time on Friday, 13 April 2029, a most apt date, asteroid 2004 MN4, or Apophis as its been named, after the Egyptian god of destruction, will pass between the Earth and the moon, coming closer to the Earth than many of the telecommunications satellites in geostationary orbits. It is calculated to miss the Earth by a whisker, a mere 22,600 miles, less than a tenth of the distance to the moon. In fact, it will come so close it will be visible to the naked eye, appearing in the sky as a dim, fast-moving star, the first asteroid in modern times to be clearly visible from Earth without the aid of a telescope or binoculars. Residing in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, Apophis is unusual because so much is known about its orbit before it makes its closest approach to Earth – most asteroids are only detected on close approach. If Apophis did collide with Earth, an asteroid that size wouldn’t create wide-scale damage, just major damage at the impact site, damage equivalent to about 20 hydrogen bombs.

  The weeks of searching the heavens turned into months but, despite everyone’s best efforts, no viable star cluster or starship was found. No one had earned the right to immortality.

  The meteor showers stopped as abruptly as they’d started and, as first the weeks and then the months went by with no further activity, both the public interest and the media interest began to wane. The initial mass anxiety and excitement subsided. People put it to the back of their minds. Gradually, as nothing new happened, it disappeared as a topic in both the press and TV. Eventually, it was forgotten altogether. Only the scientific community remained interested and committed to finding out more.

  There was a lull on the astronomical front.

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Liz, ‘we’ll be here. See you soon.’

  As she was putting down the receiver Gregg sidled up behind her and placed his hands on her breasts. ‘Shall we go to bed?’ he whispered in Liz’s ear, ‘and make each other happy.’

  ‘We can’t,’ said Liz, removing his hands. ‘That was Baby Blu. She’s coming round with Rob. They’ve got something to tell us.’

  ‘But we’ve still got time,’ he continued earnestly, placing his arm around her waist. ‘It’ll only take ten minutes,’ he implored.

  ‘Look Gregg,’ she said firmly, removing his hands for the second time, ‘my little sister is coming round with her boyfriend with some important news. I’ve got to get ready. And I don’t want a quickie. If we’re going to make love, I want to do it properly.’

  ‘Hi, Blu,’ said Liz, flinging her arms around her little sister and kissing her on both cheeks, ‘come in, come in. It’s so good to see you. And you too, Rob,’ she said, pecking him on his cheek. ‘You know Gregg,’ she continued as they entered the lounge.

  Gregg stepped forward, kissing Blu on her cheek and shaking Rob’s hand. ‘Good to see you both,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ asked Liz. ‘Tea, coffee, something stronger?’

  ‘Coffee’s fine,’ said Blu.

  ‘Rob?’

  ‘Coffee for me too,’ said Rob.

  ‘Gregg, would you like one?’

  ‘I certainly would,’ he thought, but it wasn’t a coffee that he had in mind.

  ‘May as well,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a coffee too.’

  As Liz retreated into the kitchen to prepare the drinks, Gregg made small talk with Blu and Rob. Talk about the weather, about how they were doing and about their jobs.

  ‘Coffee’s ready,’ said Liz, walking into the lounge carrying a tray with four mugs of steaming hot coffee and a plate full of chocolate biscuits. ‘Help yourself to sugar and milk.’ As Baby Blu and Rob added milk and sugar to their coffee, Gregg grabbed himself a Mars bar, one of his favourite snacks.

  When they’d all got a drink and a biscuit, Blu looked at Rob and said, ‘We’ve got a little gift for you.’

  Liz looked surprised. ‘Why, have you been away?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ said Rob. ‘Just a couple of days in Llandudno for a break. Nothing special. Just a couple of days away to recharge the batteries.’

  As Blu handed her and Gregg the small, neatly wrapped packages, Liz was puzzled. Why had Blu been away without telling them? She’d never done that before. Her brain was whirling around as she tore the wrapping paper to reveal the gift beneath. It was a mug. A mug with a message. CONGRATULATIONS, AUNTY TO BE. Liz jumped up from her chair, dashed to her little sister and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh Blu. Congratulations! I’m so pleased for you. And you too, Rob,’ she said, hugging him too.

  ‘Yes, congratulations to you both,’ beamed Gregg, holding his CONGRATULATIONS, UNCLE TO BE mug.

  ‘I know you’re not an uncle yet,’ said Blu, ‘but it was the best we could do.’

  ‘When’s it due?’ asked Liz excitedly.

  ‘September 26th,’ said Blu. ‘I’m 12 weeks pregnant.’

  ‘And that’s not all, is it Rob?’ giggled Blu.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ said Rob, holding Blu’s hand. ‘It’s not.’

  ‘Don’t keep us in suspense,’ said Liz, half anticipating what was coming next. ‘Come on, out with it.’

  ‘Well,’ said Blu, putting her arm around Rob, ‘we’re going to get married.’

  Liz shrieked with joy, jumped up for the second time and embraced her little sister. ‘That’s great news. Absolutely great. Congratulations again.’

  ‘Yeah. Congratulations from me too,’ said Gregg, standing up and shaking both Blu and Rob’s hands.

  ‘When’s the happy day?’ asked Liz.

  ‘Fourteenth of May,’ said Blu. ‘Before I get too big.’

  ‘That’s tremendous news, Blu. Really tremendous,’ gushed Liz. ‘We can’t wait, can we,’ she said, hugging Gregg.

  ‘No, we can’t. It’s brilliant news. On both fronts.’

  Although Blu would have preferred a more modest wedding, Rob’s parents wanted their only son and his beautiful bride-to-be to have a very special day. A day to remember. The wedding was held at All Saints Parish Church in Thornton Hough, a charming, beautifully English village on the Wirral, with the reception at the nearby Thornton Manor, a place where the Queen Mother stayed when watching the horse racing at Aintree. Some brides arrived by helicopter. Or boat. They didn’t go that far – it was too ostentatious – but Blu still arrived in style in a Hansom cab pulled by the loveliest horse that Liz had ever seen. It just reminded her of a giant yellow Labrador, a beautiful, gentle, graceful creature.

  Both the wedding and the reception went off without a hitch. The falconry display sandwiched between the wedding ceremony and the Wedding Breakfast, staged by staff from the nearby Birds of Prey Centre at Blakemere, was a huge hit. In fact, the whole day was a complete success, helped in no small measure by the glorious weather.

  A few months later, Blu gave birth to a beautiful baby girl – girls seemed to run in their family – a girl they named Charlotte, Charlotte Louise Manning, a lovely name and one without an embarrassing acronym.

  For the next two years everything was quiet. The furore about the alien probes was all but forgotten and the world had returned to normal. Suddenly, that illusion was shattered. Viv received a call from Carl. His team had detected a huge rogue asteroid. A huge rogue asteroid on a collision course with Earth.

  Part 3

  Collision Course

  Why should we subsidise

  intellectual curiosity?

  Ronald Reagan

  Campaign Speec
h 1980

  15

  Asteroid

  As she’d done many times before, Lucy Fawcett checked the image from the telescope before pressing the button. Checked that it was the correct region of the night time sky before committing it to film. Satisfied that it was, she pressed the button, let out a huge sigh and stretched her arms above her head. It had been a long, lonely night at NASA’s NEO observatory in Houston, Texas. It was time for a coffee. Time to relax, read the morning papers and await the arrival of Carl and Simon. After the hectic activity of the past few years, it was good to get back to a normal routine, even if it was mundane.

  As she sipped the hot, black liquid, Lucy reflected on another night of photographing the positions of unusual objects in the night sky. Objects that might, at some point in the future, pose a direct threat to Earth. But the night was like every other. Routine. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the motion of the heavenly bodies on their celestial journey. Occasionally, very occasionally, the detection of a large object would cause a stir, generate a burst of excitement, but, without exception, it was always temporary: the large object never came anywhere remotely close to Earth. Smaller objects were commonplace but unexciting because, even if they did collide with Earth, they were too small to inflict much damage.

  She smiled at the irony of the job she loved. On the one hand, a boring, routine night with no nasty surprises was ideal, what everyone wanted. It meant that planet Earth was safe. But on the other hand, well, she secretly longed for a nasty surprise, a large rogue asteroid heading straight for Earth, something to relieve the tedium. To generate some excitement. To test their mettle. Then again… they’d just witnessed the catastrophic outcome should that ever happen.