Atoma and the Blockchain Game

by Gerard O'Neill

  I swallow the lump in my throat and feel the flush of anger. We were not given a choice.

  “Think about why they might not want you to be monitored on the Blockchain. Ask yourself what controls the Blockchain.”

  “It’s controlled by Earth Incorporated,” I said. “The whole world is run that way.”

  “A centrally controlled Blockchain is like a game,” Klunker said.

  I could see beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

  “Like a card game you mean?” I asked.

  “A card game, or a board game… There are rules, prizes, and there are players. There is an objective.”

  “…to control the game, right?” I asked.

  He nodded his head.

  “But, what if the rules were such they made sure you were always at a disadvantage?”

  “Then you might never win,” I answered.

  He nodded his head again.

  “Keep going…”

  “You could always cheat,” I said, and laughed at the thought.

  “What’s so funny about that?” He asked.

  “The thought of me attempting to beat the system that way is hilarious,” I said. “And it’s impossible.”

  Even as I said the words, I felt righteous indignation rise up inside me. There’s no way I would ever want to play a rigged game I could never win.

  “So, what if cheating was the only way to win?” He asked me.

  Mind games. That’s what he was playing. I sat up in my chair.

  Klunker clapped his hands together.

  “I want you to remember what I have told you. I would ask you, kindly, not to discuss this with the team until you are through the wormhole.”

  “Alright,” I agreed. “But, I have one question to ask you.”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Are we going to China?”

  “You know better than to ask that.”

  There was the stone wall back up again.

  “Can I go now?”

  He held up his hand and smiled, and strangely, I didn’t think he looked creepy anymore. If anything he reminded me of myself.

  An outlier.

  An outsider.

  “You wanted to know how you used to style your hair,” he said.

  “Jacinda told you that, didn’t she?” I asked, feeling my cheeks redden,

  “She was asked to feed us regular reports about the well-being of the team. She was to tell us anything she overheard that might be of interest.” He cleared his throat. “Ah… anything that might be helpful. That we could put to good use if the need ever arose.”

  “She spied for you! But why did she tell you what I said about my hair?”

  “I’m not sure. It was an aspect of you that was unfortunately blocked in your memory because it related to your family. The last year you were with your family you wore your hair in a tight double short pleat, one behind each ear.” He gestured to show me. “I believe kids call it the Drape look.”

  He grinned when he saw the look on my face.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

  I knew the look he was talking about and I realized with some surprise that I did like it.

  “If you know that one small fact about yourself, you might feel better about who you are and that will help make you a better team member.” He gave me a small smile, and I saw that it was genuine and warm. But it vanished in a moment. “Keep your head down whenever Grimwade is about, and—remember what I told you about the Blockchain game.”

  He got to his feet and pressed the remote door release on his desk.

  “You might want to get one of the team to pleat your hair,” he said one eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile on his face. “I wish you well, Atoma, daughter of Professor Sandra Talbolt.” He tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger in the age-old gesture that says we now share a secret. “And, remember, Mom’s the word.”

  19

  Tough Days

  We returned to Burbank and Rosen Hall to find the training was even tougher than it was before our visit to the Air force base. They had us competing in pairs, moving large, heavy objects underwater. They strapped us into a machine that spun us around, raising, and dropping us at high speeds. Our first and second time on the rotating arm caused most of us to lose our breakfast, and many blacked out. But, by the time we did our fifth and sixth turns, we remained conscious and all of us managed to leave the chair vomit free.

  “We may as well be in the Marine Corps,” Kali complained as we lay on our beds at the end of one very long day

  “Until they have us practicing daily at a shooting range, you’ve nothing to worry about,” Jacinda called out from behind her book.

  “How would you know?” Sinead asked. “Why don’t you tell us what you know about the mission?”

  “They haven’t told me any more than they’ve told you,” Jacinda replied.

  “Oh, come on!” Sinead snorted. “Do you really expect us to believe you know nothing about where we are going? Aren’t you the team leader?”

  Jacinda put down her book and sat up.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I am, and they’re not telling me much at all.”

  “When do you think they are going to tell us?” I asked.

  “I don’t think they are going to do that until we reach our target,” Jacinda said. “Wherever that turns out to be.”

  “And how do you think they’re going to do that?” Sinead asked her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “They might record a message, we listen to while we are falling through the wormhole,” Kali said.

  “Or your capsule computer might be programmed to tell you,” Jacinda said with a smug smile.

  “That’s what Kali meant,” Rachel said.

  “It won’t make a lot of difference once we have arrived,” Hana said glumly.

  “No matter what our opinion of the mission objective, we will have to go through with it,” Jacinda said.

  “There’s no way back, not until our year there is up,” I said.

  “I only hope the weather is warm,” Nako said.

  “And the people are friendly,” Rachel added.

  “Oh, yeah,” Nako said. “That too.”

  “They must be friendly, or they wouldn’t send us to liaise with them, whatever that really means,” Hana said.

  “Some might be more friendly than others,” I told her.

  “Oh, thank you for that, Cutie-pie,” Hana said.

  “Atoma is a cutie-pie?” Rachel said sitting up in her bed and stared at my hair. “The Drape hairstyle is straight out of Shanghai punk, isn't it?”

  I smiled at her.

  “Awl, don’t you think it looks cute?” I asked with a grin.

  “Dangerously so,” Rachel said and threw her pillow at me.

  “Pillow fight!” Sinead called out, jumping from her bed with her pillow in her hands.

  “Oh, who has the energy for that,” Hana moaned.

  “No, way!” Jacinda said reaching for the room control panel above her head. “It’s lights out. We got another big day tomorrow, remember?”

  I swung my pillow at Rachel the moment I saw she was distracted and caught her full face. For a second or two I had the satisfaction of glimpsing her in open mouth surprise. Then, the room fell into blackness.

  I heard her fall back on her bed cackling with delight.

  “My gosh, Atoma, you never give up,” she cried out.

  20

  Wright-Patterson

  In the final days of our training, they moved us to Wright-Patterson Air force. It became all about landing a mock-up of the capsule, and as each hour of each day went by, we felt more and more on the edge of a journey both exciting and terrifying. There was no more joking around. We might have been soldiers preparing for their first free fall from the troposphere, protected only by an oxygen-fed sealed helmet and a thermal suit, a wing, and a prayer.

  They gathered us in front of the open hatch of a mock-up
that was fixed to a mechanical arm. It made the capsule shake and roll to give us a taste of what a rough landing would be like.

  Major Concorde explained to us that nothing like that was going to happen on our journey through the throat of the wormhole. Then he laughed, and he added that all bets were off once we were spat out the other side.

  “You will be ejected into the atmosphere and the course of your descent controlled by the computer on the craft. You will hear the jets ignite whenever the computer needs to adjust the flight. There will be a lot of heat created as you pass through the atmosphere that is absorbed by the craft. You are protected by the special skin of the capsule. Particles on the surface break off to achieve the same result as the skin of a large meteor does when it burns off on entry to leave the inner core comparatively cool. The inner core is you of course. Then the shell pops off and your chutes open up to slow you down. Before the capsule makes contact with the ground, you will hear thrusters ignite under the capsule to stabilize your landing and optimize it according to the terrain.”

  “Are you all getting this?” He asked, and he gazed around the room at our tense faces.

  We nodded our heads in stunned silence as we imagined what would happen if a single step of our journey to the target was to fail.

  “You don’t need to worry about a thing,” he told us with just a hint of relish at the fear he was invoking in us. “We’re taking no chances. Anyway, we are familiarizing you with the most likely problems you face upon entry to make sure you know exactly how to react if the computer fails.”

  “Excuse me, Sir?” Rachel asked. “You mean we might have to land the thing ourselves?”

  “That's always a possibility. All pilots are put through emergency procedures in case something unforeseen happens.”

  “Did you say the computer might fail?” I asked.

  Major Concord was beginning to look uncomfortable with the kind of questions we were asking.

  “Technical problems happen,” he said. “It is possible you pass through or close to strong electrical fields that might interfere with the computer. Even the most advanced technology such as you will have with you can fail. It’s just one of those things… But, the chances of something going wrong that requires you to take control of your craft are very slim. So—I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  I could see he was trying his best to reassure us. He even chuckled a little.

  We were gathered in the control room watching the action inside the test chamber on a giant screen. The mock-up capsule was attached to the end of a giant revolving arm. It had come to a standstill. We could see the figure inside strapped into her seat. She had not so much as raised her hand.

  “Is the pilot alright, sir?” Diah asked.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” Major Concorde said with a good deal more cheer than necessary.

  We follow him into the chamber.

  “When you are in the capsule always keep in mind, you are the pilot and not simply a passenger. That is the attitude you should maintain. If everything goes smoothly, you will only be the passenger.”

  He switched on the microphone.

  “Come out,” Major Concorde ordered.

  We watched the slim figure step out of the capsule.

  I guessed she was a woman. She was dressed in a body formed silver air suit with a dark visor over her face and wore a cap. The kind they give us at our CCDs. The ones covered in sensor pads that interact with the signals sent by the synapsis in the brain. In another minute the door opened, and the pilot stepped into the control room with us.

  “Give me your report!” Major Concorde ordered with a curtness that startled us.

  Lines of bright orange numerals and letters appeared in rapid succession across the dark visor.

  “The results of day one-thousand-and-one, test twelve show the numbers are as expected. There were no errors recorded or adjustments necessary. The ride was comfortable.”

  Major Concorde ignored the pilot and turned to us.

  “That was the last test for the day using the droid,” Major Concorde said. “For the rest of the day, we get to see if you lot agree with A-forty-five’s assessment.”

  He glanced at Jacinda.

  “Do you want to go first, Commander Moriarty? You can choose one of your team if you prefer.”

  “Atoma can take that honor, sir,” she replied.

  21

  Countdown Begins

  The droid was made of stronger stuff than me. The ride was terrible.

  At the day’s end, we sat in our flight suits in the debriefing room before Major Concord. Most of us were quietly nursing our bruises. Jacinda was the exception, she looked impossibly energized. Exhilarated was closer to the way she looked. She was a pilot again, and she felt right at home.

  I always had the impression debriefings were the most torturous form of boredom devised by humankind. It turned out they were only that way at Burbank and Rosen Hall.

  “Today you were familiarized with the operation of the capsules from the inside,” Major Concord told us. “We gave each of you a chance to show how you would react if things went wrong on entry. You all did very well as I expected you would. You have performed all the emergency procedures to our satisfaction.”

  He looked around the room of tired faces. I know you all have questions. Now is your chance to ask them. When the Q and A is done, we are all going to sit down to a typical celebration meal and make a toast to your mission. Because you have reached the end of your training.

  “How about we get a night on the town instead, sir?” Sinead suggested.

  I grinned. Despite being dog tired after weeks of hard work that sounded an excellent idea to me. I know I would perk up with a coffee. There was always a little extra energy to be found when it came to a night out with friends. That was how I thought of them all now. We had our differences, let’s face it. We were all so very different. But going through the tough training as a team had forged a bond between us that somehow overcame the deepest grudge. Really, they had never been time enough to work up a real grudge against anyone. Yes, a night on the town was what we all deserved.

  “I’m afraid a brief toast to your health is the only celebration you’re going to have. Tomorrow morning all of you are going to be dropped into the wormhole. It will be for real this time.”

  There was only stunned silence as his words sank home.

  Finally, it was Kali who broke through the shock and apprehension.

  “I thought we had a few days of training?”

  “Nope,” Major Concorde told her crisply. “Wrong thought. Next?”

  “No one has told us where we’re being sent, sir,” Hana said.

  “That information is available to those who are above your security clearance status,” Major Concorde said.

  He gave a tired, sad smile.

  “I regret I am not able to answer the question that bugs all of you.”

  “Oh, come on, sir?” Diah insisted.

  The major’s smile thinned.

  “There’s something I will tell you, just for the record. There was an issue to do with time travel. I can’t say too much because it’s not something I have any expertise in. It’s all too technical for me. I want you all to know we have made the necessary adjustments.”

  “Time travel, sir?” Jacinda asked.

  “That’s right,” he said. “Time inside the wormhole is not the same as time outside of it. We had an issue with a time lag, to be exact. If you returned to Earth through the same wormhole, you risked the possibility a chunk of time had passed. Let’s say a century had passed, only in your time you had aged only a year.”

  “So, what are you saying, sir?” Sinead asked. “That problem has been fixed?”

  “Not exactly, but we discovered a work around. We use a different wormhole to make the return journey. Don’t worry. You won’t discover you are an old woman when you arrive at the destination. You won’t come back to Earth and find a thousand years has pass
ed or even a century.”

  “That means if we are away one year, that will also be one Earth year here, right, sir?” Jacinda asked.

  “That’s right, Commander,” he said.

  “Are you sure of that, sir?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he answered, but I noticed he didn’t make eye contact with me.

  “Let me remind you all one last time. The capsule will look after you. The sensors on board make the necessary flight adjustments so that it never makes contact with the throat of the wormhole. Should the computer detect stress in your system it feeds you a compound that calms you down? If it detects panic, it will knock you out the same way and get on with its job without any input from you. Obviously, we do not see this as an optimum solution but under the circumstances, we have set things up this way. In the unlikely situation you are so relaxed you have fallen asleep, the computer will detect as much, and it will wake you before the landing.”

  Major Concorde was beaming at us again.

  “Wormholes are considered between eighty-five percent to ninety percent safe to use as a transport system. The fact it isn’t considered ninety-nine percent safe is solely due to it being an experimental transport system. Space force thinks of it as a viable means of troop transport, if that makes you all feel any better about it, and it should.”

  “We are test pilots then, sir?” Rachel asked.

  “Oh, you can believe me when I tell you that you are a lot of things to a lot of people,” he said. “I started out my career in the Air force as a test pilot,” he said proudly. “There’s nothing wrong with being a test pilot.”

  “But we aren’t trained pilots, and we won’t be flying those things, sir,” Sinead pointed out.

  Major Concorde nodded to her, then he glanced around the room, and clapped his hands.

  “Right, let’s move onto the DFAC where you will find a banquet awaits you. There we will make a toast to the success of your mission.”