"What’s changed?" a dissident voice, a plant, interrupted from the neuroview gallery.
August responded on cue. "Well, my friend, what has changed is everything. Everything changed dramatically with the arrival of a simple radio beacon from a distant world. Hope came that day, hope that humanity would at last find our way into the stars, with the awareness that our efforts at space travel here were being repeated a thousand times over throughout the universe, with other species likely to be significantly further down the road than we were. Mirtopik is the only Com to take the initiative in intercepting these communications from these advanced civilizations, and now it is only a matter of time before the technology for space travel is delivered to us. This will allow humanity to relieve our pressure on our precious Earth and the crippling pressure of the ecological constraints of a single planet. We will develop Mars, the solar system, and eventually the universe.”
Disgruntled voices issued, not only from the neuroview gallery, but from the Board.
“With our new Neptune Orbital Listening Array, NOLA, we have opened new doors, we are already unlocking the secrets of a continually expanding future for humankind. And YOU are a part of this. The meek may inherit the Earth, but the bold will inherit the Universe."
August continued when he should have stopped, riding the wave of his own megalomania into the brilliant future waiting before him. As the wave crested he returned to an audience that he had, by now, left behind. Scattered applause greeted his return.
"Well, don’t take my word for it," August declared, "Let’s see the latest."
This statement was a tradition, repeated in every AGM since August assumed the helm. He felt it was good to expose the shareholders to the thrill of new discovery in the making. Many shareholders held interests in Mirtopik Com just for the excitement of these yearly unveilings of new worlds and exotic beings.
The mneme was announced by the same man each year, a bald headed and monotonous official in a white coat who was supposedly the head of the Division of Extra-terrestrial Signals but was in fact an actor hired to play the part. August understood the power of the cult of the familiar.
"Today we bring you mneme 200105, a new download from NOLA. This one is from Hercules Gamma, a television transmission and documentary of ritual behavior - incidental broadcast - 2 hours length. ET preliminary classification to saurian xenotype with fungi dominate ecosystem."
As the mneme began to play they found themselves within a primordial mist, parting here and there to reveal a tangled jungle composed of an incredible diversity of what were apparently gigantic mushrooms. A group of furry lizard beings covered in ornate body paint and wearing fantastical, top-heavy hats shaped like satellite dishes, wound their way carefully along an overgrown trail. They had long, jointed fingers that seemed more like tentacles as they bent in more than one direction to grasp things. When they stood still in any spot, the color of their unpainted skin seemed to change to match their surroundings.
The leader of the group held out his hands, halting the progress of the group and silencing any residual conversation among the shareholders. The mushrooms began to sway and then to shake violently as a herd of gigantic animals, snapped and crashed a path through them and into view. The parabolic disk-shaped head racks of the herd animals matched the shape of the over-sized hats worn by the lizard beings. The eyes of the herd animals, mere pinpricks, were positioned to the side of large hollows in the head crests so that their field of view would be severely restricted. Even so the great beasts seemed to have no trouble seeing where they were going, and precisely targeted the surrounding vegetation with their prehensile lips.
"It is suspected that ultrasonic, or perhaps even electromagnetic, echo-navigation signals are employed by the quadrupeds," the presenter explained.
As the column passed, lizard beings crept out of the brush and excitedly examined every aspect of the animals’ passage: droppings, tracks, and browse. They took samples and measurements with technically complex instruments.
"Perhaps they are scientists?" someone called out.
"Or hunters," interjected another voice.
As the audience speculated, August faded from neuroview and carefully examined the conference room. The Directors were absorbed in the presentation, their heads bent at odd angles and their attention blinded to his return. Only Helen Rodriguez’s head turned, looking away from him as he looked at her. She might as well wear a sign, August thought. Through his thoughts, August checked in with ComSec regarding the status of nanoweapon scan of the room.
"Nothing’s registered sir."
"The second anything turns up."
"We’ll let you know right away sir."
Calvin30’s neurolink was still set to voice mail, the little shit.
Their study and collections finished, the lizard beings froze in place long enough for some of the audience to call for resetting the neuro-projector. Then, slowly, the lizard beings’ bodies began to contort, and slowly swell, to approximate the shape of the herd animals. Skin colors changed to their same dun hue. They dropped on all fours and shuffled about, mimicking the ponderous gait. As a group, they gathered to vomit into the manure piles and then began to chew their carefully collected samples of browse. When the samples had been devoured, the eyes of the lizard beings narrowed and slid along a ridge on their heads, so they were now facing to the side instead of in front. Then, as functionally blinded as those they were miming, the lizard beings lumbered away following the path of trampled jungle.
The demonstration faded away.
Gudanko’s soft voice interrupted August before he launched his wrap up. This was the moment the accountant chose to start the battle.
“ET is not a return. It is a speculation that will never pay out. How long has humanity been playing this game? Almost 150 years. 150 years and only a handful of broadcasts from the entire galaxy. And we have scanned a good proportion of what is within listening range. We have had to go to the edge of our solar system to build telescopes sensitive enough to pick up whatever remaining whispers are detectable. Another 50 years and there will be nothing left to listen to. This is a scientific enterprise, a brilliant and extraordinarily expensive one, but it is not a business model.”
And then he sat back down. August fumed at the impertinence of the interruption, but he was prepared for it. He was not prepared for what happened next.
“I believe our panarchist colleagues have something to add,” Gudanko threw in just as August opened his mouth to respond. As Siobhan Maclean rose to Gudanko’s introduction, August smoothed his hair to calm his nerves. The panarchists and Gudanko now in alliance? Impossible.
Maclean intently stood up. Her randomly chopped back red hair and severe, homespun khadi salwaar kameez disciplined her Gaelic good looks into a fierce ensemble. August had invited her onto the Board with the aim of keeping Gudanko in check.
“Thank you, Vlad,” Maclean’s smile was pinched; collaborating with her sworn enemy must not come easily, “Thank you August.”
“We realise it is not on the agenda, but we have recently come into possession of an extraordinary mneme from the Mars One station that has direct bearing to the current Mirtopik Com strategic vision, which you have laid out so well August, with your permission.”
“Well. I, well.”
At that moment the collective gaze of the Board and shareholders started to shift. Although their eyes were all on August, the focus began to soften, as Anya’s eyes had as they had moved through him. Could they see how illusory his ruse was, how it was nothing but a dream? Panic rose through his body; a feeling August could not ignore this time. He was losing it.
“Continue on,” Gudanko directed, calmly registering his opponents fear.
“Right,” Maclean cleared her throat. “As August has shared with us, the current plan for use of any space travel tech the aliens might provide will be the industrialisation of Mars. However, we believe that doing so may contravene the Covenant on Ecological R
ights.”
“Ecological Rights?” August scoffed despite his efforts at self-control. “Ecological Rights don’t apply in Space. That is a basic principle of the Peace. This is a Com matter.”
“Well, the Peace puts the border of Space at the furthest extent of the ecosphere. However, there appears to be a real possibility that an indigenous ecosphere exists on Mars, as outlined quite passionately by one of the key specialists in this area currently on the planet. Please gauge for yourself.”
The mneme opened in the AGM neuroview, starring a woman who August recognised. She was less pretty now than she had when they had met.
“...what people don’t understand is that all the ingredients are still there. Water, heat, chemical food. And the microfossil evidence that they have been here before. We know all this. How can we turn our back on what might be our only sister world in our solar system’s story of Life? They are right here Kalsang. Right under our noses, and it is all too inconvenient to look for them. Because, if we did, we would find them, we would find them, and we would know that our own microbes, so much more advanced, would take over their planet in a geological instant. So, they don’t want to know that. It ruins all their plans because coming here on the scale they want to simply won’t work. Or they would have to admit to the world, which we all know to be true, that they simply don’t care. Look at the state of the Earth. We wrecked it. So, we all know where that attitude takes us. People live it every day.”
“People live it every day,” Maclean repeated. “We do. And this is the reason this whole adventure in Space is flawed. We must learn to live within limits.”
Gudanko cut off Maclean’s impending anti-Com diatribe. “What our panarchist colleague means is that, even IF we get the technology from the aliens, we might not be able to develop Mars, and if not Mars, where do we go? Where? So, you see, August, not only is this a pipedream, but it is an ill-considered one from the beginning.”
The Board and neuroview gallery erupted. Familiar battle lines were redrawn with a single focus - change at the top.
August could only stand, his mind separated from the world around him, while they argued over his fate. There was nothing he could do to re-engage. His fate was overtaking him, and his mind was trying to creep away. He had to do something, but all he could was watch. Then part of him noticed that their gaze had come back to him and that they were waiting.
August decided to wait with them, which was what saved him. The room and neuroview became uncomfortably quiet while the tension grew. They began to fidget. Then, his clarity returning as their attention on him tightened, August spoke.
“Thank you, Siobhan. Very interesting, but nothing new. Aurora, I mean Dr. Davidson and I,” August was grateful that he never forgot a name behind an attractive face.
“The two of us started this conversation years ago. In fact, if you look, her research is funded from my priority projects for particularly these reasons. We have been working on this problem together over that time. You know what we have found, after years of dedicated investigations? Nothing. There is nothing to suggest that indigenous life still exists on Mars, but that, contrary to Dr. Davidson’s passionate plea, it went extinct billions of years ago. However, I have a complaint.”
August gripped his hair to highlight his distress. What he had to say next was brilliant, even by his own standards.
“This is obviously a personal communication of Dr Davidson’s that someone has intercepted. Why else would she address us as ‘Kalsang’, a friend of hers? This is intolerable. I take the invasion of my staff’s privacy personally. This is especially so since it has been documented that Aurora, having spent many years so far from Earth, is suffering from the inevitable psychological consequences of a prolonged mission. You are all aware of the state of mind this will produce. This is not an official scientific report, which has been subject to peer review. This is a cry for help from someone, a friend, who is suffering profoundly. For this I would like an apology.”
He could see by the way that MacClean shifted in her seat that she hadn’t anticipated this counter attack.
“Where did you get this?” August pressed his advantage.
“It is from a reliable source.”
“Was this reliable source Dr. Davidson?”
“I, we cannot say.”
“We? You mean you cannot betray a Rev operative working within Mirtopik Com. We? Really Siobhan, where does this stop? As a Director, do you have any responsibility at all to Com investors? Did you not join the board as a partner? Are those not the terms of the Peace?” August looked pointedly at Gudanko who smiled placidly.
“August, I share your concerns, but does it make any difference? It is the responsibility of the Board to consider risk, something it has not been in the habit of doing for some time. That is why I chose to allow this demonstration of a mneme that is already viral in the public domain, something you should already know. Lack of evidence is not evidence of absence. Whatever the merits, the development of Mars will not occur without resistance and this simply highlights that the game we are playing has no clear return.”
"Does it matter Vlad?" August pivoted, "True, we have no clear return. We have a massive sunk investment with hardly a percent back - a complete loss by any definition. We can’t expect to recoup that kind of outlay by selling neurovision rights to alien transmissions for heaven’s sake."
The room fell silent. MacLean, confused mid pounce, stalled in an awkward half crouch. "August, what are you saying? That ET isn’t the big picture? You can’t back pedal so easily."
August smiled magnanimously. Maclean diplomatically grimaced in return.
"No Siobhan. Making money is the big picture. We are a Com. We make money. That’s it. End of story. Isn’t that what your Revs are always telling people?"
Gudanko actually stood. "Then it is over August. Respectfully you have not delivered what you promised. As I have been arguing it is time to pull the plug and return to a more stable approach.”
"That may not be a good idea my friend because if this investment is abandoned, then an awful lot of us," August scanned the room, making eye contact with each potential ally, on the Board and among the shareholders, "have made some very bad business decisions. Truly spectacularly bad decisions. The cost, just to build NOLA is what, say fifty times the annual gross profit of Mirtopik Com? Pretty catastrophic, even for a Com this size."
August paused to assess the dangerous boil of confusion in the room. His hair stood at attention in every conceivable angle as August waited for the right moment, until the audience’s heads begin to turn back for an answer.
"What is left for us? Eco-isolated manufacturing on the Moon - a good idea – but not enough to keep us in any major position of influence. Non-toxic substitutes exist for most things we can make up here. What is left for us? What can we sell? What is our business?"
"Space, my friends, space, that’s it, freedom, that’s all."
"Look."
Gudanko raised his voice. It was unbelievable. August would have taken pleasure in the accomplishment of finally provoking his enemy, had there not been so much at stake.
“Look.” Gudanko took a deep breath and levelled. “It’s simple, it always has been. We have monopoly power in Space. We dictate the terms to our suppliers. This is not about freedom. It is about making hard choices. It is about extending our control and punishing our competitors."
"Vlad," August cut Gudanko off fiercely, "we lost that war." August allowed a silent consent to fill the hole he had punched in his rival’s muted bluster. "We did. Nobody here would dispute that. We lost. We lost the war and now we’re losing the Peace. The panarchists have won because they are right. We are dinosaurs really, still walking around in our bones. Look, maybe we have scraps of Russia, Kiev, LA, New York, Singapore, Shanghai, Berlin, London and this small dot on the Moon - that’s all - the free Com holdouts. That’s a very small piece of the pie. Even the Govs don’t take us that seriously anymore."
<
br /> Maclean was smiling despite herself. Gudanko was trembling with suppressed agitation. The neuroview hummed with argument. August waited until their attention returned to him, as he compiled his closing argument.
"My friends, only Mirtopik Com represents frontiers still open. No other Com, no other institution, upholds the age-old dream, and I believe genuine promise, of a human future in Space. This alone accounts for the continuing stability in our stock value. Turning our backs on the Mirtopik dream will have further reaching ramifications than the viability of this Com. Markets are creatures of perception. They thrive on optimism. An admission of failure here will therefore impact every other conceivable investment. And the consequences will be even more dire for long term Gaian restoration." August noted the number of faces in the neuroview that turned in response. The panarchist presence was roughly what Calvin30 had reported.
"What is the Peace my friends? I submit that it is our name for the balance of progress and necessity. Of necessity we carefully manage our footprint on the Earth. But the constraints of necessity, the daily million compromises, are endured only because of the promise of Freedom. Take away this promise and there is no saying what the consequences will be."
"Doesn't this contradict what you said earlier about making money?" interjected MacLean.
"No, Siobhan. That is a good question. I stand by what I said. Our purpose is to make money, or rather to realize the potential of Capital. And what is Capital my friends but the promise of Freedom? So, I implore you, each of you, to carefully consider the nature of profit and loss when you decide today on the future of Mirtopik Com."
No one spoke. Gudanko rocked intently in his chair.
"Oh," August added, "and a few words about the continuing productive partnership between Mirtopik and Energia Nova. The long-term opportunities coming from ET are supported by the steady advances in faster, better spacecraft provided by Energia Nova. Because of this effective collaboration over the past decade, the costs of ET are mainly fixed other than operational on-costs and the pittance we pay the monasteries each year for our cheerful monks to keep doing their thing out at the Listening Arrays."
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