Jessica’s journal
Five years gone, & weve settled into a groove. Work is still fun, though routine. Ive learned as much about the air system as there is to know. Hope Larry will move us around a bit—will be nice to work at Geo. He hides it, but hes really worried about it. I cd be of some use there. Anna, poor thing, is eager to please, but not the obvious choice for it. Though she amazes me w/ how much practical skill shes picked up. She still mixes up ohms & farads, or volts & amps, but she can now take a motor apart, replace the coil, & put it back together. Now thats a surprise. All that on top of her exploits in the greenhouse. Shes not such a flake as I thought. Perhaps I shd go there sometime & see what she does w/ her plants. That will give me a chance to spend some time w/ her as well. Perhaps if we spent more time together shed stop acting as if shes walking on eggshells when Im around. I might even be of some use there … the idea of handling manure is repugnant, but perhaps I can get used to it, as one gets used to anything, including living inside a tiny insulated bubble on a cryogenic planet.
Other surprises. A big one is that Larry doesnt annoy me anymore. Once you give up hoping for something quirky or original or unexpected from him, he isnt too bad. He has the great ability to leave you alone. But perhaps I dont want to be left alone so much—now thats a surprise for you! Wish I cd hang out w/ him, be pally, like Anna. Wish I had her gift for prattle. I can see how much he enjoys it. Perhaps I can try to strike up a conversation on some neutral topic—nothing Shell or survival-related, or hell get into his anxious carrying the world on his shoulders mode. Perhaps books or movies? He doesnt like anything edgy or twisted, Ill bet, based on what Ive learned about him & based on his collection here. So definitely not the Hostel movies or any Neal Stephenson books. No, probably something like Dickens or Thackeray or Maugham or Wodehouse or Shaw. A bit dull, that stuff, & really, really dated, but not all of its bad. Perhaps talk to him about Vanity Fair or Pygmalion, that cd be a starting point.
Another surprise is Mum. Or perhaps I shd say puzzle rather than surprise. Ive never seen her so openly affectionate. She, who never gave me or Anna time of day, now hugs & kisses us at every opportunity! This place has done crazy things to all of us, but her transformation from full-time pro to loving mum is still puzzling. Its very touching, but theres something odd & confused about it, perhaps even desperate. I guess she thinks a lot about the outside, & that makes her fearful. But its not fear of the perils outside that I sense in her—its something more fundamental. In a way its too bad weve all enjoyed great health so far. A couple of patients on her hands wd help take her mind off other stuff. Perhaps I shd fake an illness. No, that wdnt work. She wd see through it in an instant. Im too bad an actor, & shes too good a doctor.
Grandma, shes the one whos remained constant. Yet she too caught us all by surprise, except perhaps Mum, when she gave toast yesterday. Was that a generic comment about hoping to be alive when we got out, or does she really think she hasnt got long to live? I cant ask her directly. Ill ask Mum. I desperately hope it was just a remark. Larry said she might be the most important member here. I think shes already proved that. Shes the glue that holds us together. Its not anything she does thats special. But if were all feeling better & acting nicer, its largely due to her presence. If not for her, Id be snapping at everyone left & right, Anna wd be starting at every noise, Mum wd be running around like a headless chicken, and Larry wd be alphaing us all the time. She softens everything. W/o her wed all fall apart, incl. Larry.
Elizabeth’s journal
What can I say? My heart is too full for words. Five years from the day we walked into the Shell we’re still alive. It’s miraculous. How many times have I used that word? Yet with each passing day, the word justifies itself even more.
Yesterday’s celebration. I wasn’t really planning to talk about my mortality, but it just came out. Sometimes you simply can’t hide the truth from the people you love, and perhaps you mustn’t. Nicole, poor, dear child, has been trying to hide the truth from me, but you don’t become a spiritual counselor without developing a nose for the white lie. She thinks I don’t have much longer to go and she doesn’t want me to know it. But she needn’t have worried, I knew it long before she did, before we even came to this place. Since then, my awareness of my impending demise has only been growing. My meditation sessions have been getting more and more intense and profound. Whereas in the past it took me a good half-hour to quell my thoughts and get into a meditative state, now I get into a trance almost instantly. And my trance seems to be getting deeper, and I feel increasingly in touch with some blissful part of me that I could only occasionally sense in the past. And even when I’m doing my other activities, that feeling, that connection, never goes away entirely, like it used to in the past.
It takes me back to my time with Lama Amoli in Nepal. Usually alert, engaged, and animated, one day she started to slowly withdraw into some special place where we couldn’t follow. Three years later and she was no longer with us, gone to her Samadhi at the age of 48. I can see some of that happening in me now. I hope I can slow it down enough to see everyone safe and sound in the world outside, no longer cowering under the Shroud.
I never gave it much credence when my family members said how much they needed me, but now, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I must say that I’ve started thinking so too. Even though everything has gone smoothly so far in the Shell, the psychological stress of life in this highly artificial setting is severe. Although we go about our daily tasks as if nothing is wrong, deep down we are only too aware of the horror that lies outside. So anything that I can do to reassure people and keep them sane and happy and laughing is of value. I think I’m of use to Nicole—by getting her to worry about my health, I keep her from asking herself too many disturbing questions.
My sweet little granddaughters need me more than ever, although my earlier fear—that this strange environment, with only three older people and each other for company, with no other role models, might make them grow up strange and confused—has proved utterly baseless. They were innocent, awkward teenagers when they walked in here, now they’ve blossomed into charming and wonderful women. Too bad there aren’t any young men around to admire them. How tragic it is for them to grow up never knowing the joys of romance and relationships! The only man here is Larry, and as loving and wonderful as a man can be—even Jessica now likes him without reservation. Too bad we don’t practice polygamy, or else I could have persuaded Larry to add all of us to his harem! We’d each of us drive him crazy in our own way, and he’d only love us the more for it. Perhaps that’s what he needs to divert his mind from his worries. I know I’m being naughty here, but old women have their fantasies too! Besides, he reminds me so much of George.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Valves
Given their bizarre situation and grim outlook, the Shellmates enjoyed the first few years much more than they could have anticipated. They lived in comfort. Within the constraints of their dwelling, they lacked almost nothing. They ate well, enjoyed their work, and had games and books and films to relieve the monotony of their existence. Given the choice, they would no doubt have preferred a normal life outside. But bereft of that possibility, they would have been happy to live in the Steady State indefinitely.
Unfortunately, those pleasant conditions didn’t last.
The first sign of trouble came in the “autumn” of Year Six. The seasons of course meant nothing anymore. Outside the Shell it was just as cold and dark in peak summer as in midwinter. The temperature appeared stable at minus 127 degrees—whether in reality or due to a broken gauge, they couldn’t tell—and it stayed pitch black, without a ray of sunshine to relieve the endless night. Only in the Eco dome did the artificial climate vary during the year to accommodate the natural growing cycles of plants from across the world. Elsewhere in the Shell seasonal conditions remained constant. The time of day meant nothing either, with only changes in the temperature and light settings to distinguish day from
night. Nevertheless, the Shellmates adhered to pre-Shroud calendar and clock conventions, with the Australian autumn going from March through May.
The trouble started on March 25th during the morning shift at the Air dome. Jessica, looking up from a pressure gauge she had been examining, beckoned Larry.
“Didn’t we replace this valve just a few weeks ago?” She tapped on an air intake pipe connected to the gauge, which started beeping at that moment.
“Yes, we did,” said Larry. “In fact, we replaced it twice within the past year. Is it acting up again?”
“It’s stuck closed, so intake pressure is down.”
Larry frowned. “What’s the reading?”
“Should be 2.5 atmospheres but reads 1.2. Way below spec.”
“Hmm, that’s not good. It means the air isn’t getting scrubbed.”
“Notice anything this morning?”
“No. Did you?”
“The air in Central felt stale.”
Larry’s brow creased with worry. “Then we have a problem. You and Anna have a much better sense of the environment than us older folks. If you thought the air was stuffy, it’s probably going to get worse very soon.”
Larry’s communicator buzzed. He spoke for a few seconds, and then hung up, biting his lip. “It’s already happening. That was your mum from the clinic. They found it stuffy in there and have gone off to see if it’s the same story at Central. In any case, it looks like we’ve got to replace the valve at once.”
“Aren’t we running low on valves?”
Larry was about to respond when his communicator buzzed again. The air in Central was also stuffy, it seemed.
“And this is why,” Jessica said, beckoning Larry to a console that showed air quality parameters. “Carbon dioxide should be under 500 ppm, but it seems to have gone above 2,400. We can thank our friend the valve for that.”
“But how did this happen so quickly? We were okay last night. Even you and Anna didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.”
“Could’ve happened while we slept. We wouldn’t have felt it then.”
“Whatever happened, we’ve got to fix it immediately.”
At that moment another pressure gauge started to beep. This was on one of the exhaust pipes.
“Hello, another valve’s died,” Jessica said and, after a quick check, added: “It’s also stuck closed.”
Larry rushed over to join her, and together they looked at the gauges for the various exhaust pipes. Several were now in the red zone, though none were beeping yet. They raced back and looked at the remaining intake gauges. Many were showing red.
“It must be a cascading effect,” said Larry. “One valve fails, and it creates additional load on the remaining ones, causing them to fail in turn. I suspect many if not most of our valves are getting ready to fail.” Larry took a deep breath. “Nothing to do but to check each one and replace as many bad ones as we can before we get more failures.”
“But we don’t have that many valves in stock!”
Larry made a quick decision. “We’ll have to take the valves from the spare pump.”
Jessica stared at him. “Are you serious? That will kill the spare pump. Then if the main one fails we’ll have no backup.”
“True,” said Larry grimly, “but we have no choice.”
“Can’t we shut the air system down until we figure out what the hell’s going on?”
“How? The air is already stuffy, and with the purifier off it will quickly become unbreathable. Unless we switch to the spare, which we can’t because we need to steal its valves. All we can do is run the main pump at its lowest setting.”
Jessica needed no further persuasion, and the two of them raced against time to replace the valves. They were only halfway done by lunchtime but couldn’t afford to take a break. So far their luck had held, and no other valves had failed. But it was just a matter of time. It took them until 3:00 p.m. to replace all the malfunctioning valves and switch the air pump back to full power. Fortunately, no others failed in the interim, and the situation was stabilized. But they were now out of spare valves and had lost their backup pump.
By the end of dinner the air felt fresh again, but the mood at Central was gloomy. Larry let Jessica explain the situation. Her knowledge of the air system now surpassed his, and it was a huge relief to share the responsibility with her.
“As you learned during lectures, the purifier freshens stale air by scrubbing carbon dioxide from it,” she said. “It relies on a set of high-tech valves that regulate inflow and outflow. The valves are supposed to last forever but have been failing left and right. We don’t know why—maybe it’s thermal stress, metal fatigue, or something else. No clue. The problem is, one failed valve stresses the others.”
“And causes them to fail, too?” Anna asked.
“Right. But until now, it’s been one at a time, and we managed to fix the problem before it got out of hand.”
“And now?”
“One valve must’ve died last night while we slept. Since we didn’t replace it, others started failing one after the other, faster and faster. Once they fail we can’t repair them, only replace. Which is what we did. Like crazy.”
“We replaced nearly forty valves today,” Larry added. “Virtually all of them.”
“So you managed to save the day!” said Elizabeth. “You’re both wonderful.”
“What’s worrying you then?” Nicole asked.
“We used up all our spares.” Jessica paused, waiting for the news to sink in. “And when the next valve fails, it’s curtains for the air purifier.”
Elizabeth exchanged wide-eyed looks with Nicole and Anna.
“Jesus! What do we do then?” cried Anna, turning to Larry. “Couldn’t we just, like, punch a hole in the wall and let in fresh air from outside?”
“We could, but the air outside is at minus 127 degrees. It’ll take way too much energy to heat it.”
“Surely there must be something we can do?” Anna looked from Larry to Jessica. “We can’t just fold our hands and pray another valve doesn’t fail!”
Larry pressed Anna’s hands. “There is something you can do.”
“But what?”
“Remember the chlorella panels? They might be our only hope now.”
“And they better work,” said Jessica, “or else we’ll choke or freeze when the next valve fails.”
Anna stared at her and then at Larry, her mouth open. “You must be kidding! The algae might not even be viable after so many years in cold storage. Even if they are, they’ll need, like, months to grow.”
“I know,” said Larry. “I didn’t expect the air purifier to fall apart so quickly. I thought we’d have a year at least to work on alternatives. I was wrong. Now we have just weeks, not months.”
“Are you serious? You want me to raise the chlorella from the dead in a few weeks?”
“Yes. Can you do it?”
“How can I know?” Anna gave a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re talking as if it’s as simple as, you know, planting a seed and letting it germinate.”
Larry shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot. But it’s all in your hands now.”
Anna said nothing for a moment and then sighed. “Okay, I’ll try. But I’ll need to work around the clock on it.”
Larry nodded. “Yes, I thought of that. Let’s change our schedule and drop the nobody-goes-anywhere-alone rule. From now on, I suggest you spend as much time in Eco as you need. Anyone who’s not busy with other stuff will come and help you.”
“Thanks,” Anna said. “I’m going to need all the moral support I can get.”
Larry paused, and after some deliberation, said: “There’s one more issue I want to draw your attention to. Nothing major, nothing at all like the air problem, but nevertheless something that you should know. We seem to be running a tad low on energy as well. The—”
“What!” Anna broke in. “And you told me nothing while I was working wit
h you?”
“I should’ve told you. Forgive me.”
“Don’t be silly, I didn’t mean to accuse you. But what’s causing the problem?”
“For some reason, the well has been producing less heat in recent months. I think it’s due to geological factors, not our energy use.”
“How come we didn’t feel any difference?” Nicole asked.
“Well, the system compensates for the diminished heat output by increasing the rate of fluid flow. So the energy available to us has remained constant.”
“Then what’s the problem?” said Nicole.
“I think I can answer that,” said Anna. “When we increase fluid flow we extract heat faster. That reduces the useful lifetime of the well.”
There were more worried looks.
“So we might consider cutting down on our energy use a bit,” Larry suggested.
After a chorus of groans, there was a long pause until Jessica broke it. “There’s a silver lining to all this,” she said. Everyone looked at her in surprise—they’d expected her to paint the worst-case scenario, not point out the bright side. “If the air purifier fails, we could seal off the Air dome. That would save a ton of energy!”
Larry smiled. Over the years, he had learned to appreciate Jessica’s dark humor. But the others didn’t look reassured.
“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” said Anna.
They talked about it some more but concluded that they could do nothing about the air problem except hope that Anna’s chlorella panels kicked in before the purifier broke down. “We could try breathing less,” Jessica said, winking at Larry. Anna and Nicole grimaced, but Elizabeth said, “Many a true word is spoken in jest,” and offered to teach them a breathing exercise used by yogis to slow down their respiration.
Unlight Page 12