NISSY

by JOHN PAUL CATER

  Immediately they scrambled to pick vantage points around the console for the best photos, some kneeling, some squatting, and the tallest ones standing in the rear. Cameras began to click and cycle as they settled into their places. Smells of new electronics drifted through the air as a lone reporter hefted a larger camera trailing cables from the dome’s entrance. “We’re live on network news.”

  “So good to see you again, Amy,” Lipinski said, watching other reporters gather, with pads and pens taken from their satchels, already writing.

  He never in his life thought he would share such a distinguished honor with anyone, much less a twelve-year old girl, but she had drawn him into her heart with her brilliance and magical fascination with all things scientific.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do, folks,” he began, pulling Amy nearer the console and keyboard.

  “I have already keyed in the fasta file for what’s called a DNA watermark. It consists of a uniquely ordered text string of the intermixed letters: C, G, A and T. Upon its receipt on Mars, it will instruct our sequencer-assembler to build a strand of synthetic DNA from vats of nucleotide bases we shipped with the unit. Those vats contain the chemicals of life: cytosine, guanine, adenine, and thymine, represented by the four letters in the code string.”

  He paused, allowing the group to catch up and flip pages.

  “Now these man-made watermarks are added to and used to identify synthetic DNA strands from natural ones. This particular watermark was composed and written by Amy Godwin, the daughter of Jennifer Godwin, our MPOD standing over there watching us. Keep in mind she’s no ordinary adolescent; at twelve years of age she’s already a freshman at UCSD and plans to join NASA’s astronaut corps as soon as they let her in.”

  As he paused and took a breath, a flurry of flashes and camera clicks and whirrs filled the room.

  “If you were lucky enough to have been here earlier today you might have seen her remotely land the MPDV on the Martian surface in record time. She’s not just a wannabe astronaut; she has the right stuff, in my opinion, to be one today.”

  Smiling, murmuring accolades, the group politely applauded her accomplishment.

  “Now here we go, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Ready your cameras for the first interplanetary transmission of life-creating DNA in history.”

  He turned in his seat and pressed a few buttons initiating contact with the LTS. Nine minutes later, a message displayed on the console’s large status display:

  >BEGIN FASTA FILE UPLOAD WHEN READY.

  Pointing to the display he said, “That message is confirmation from Mars that the LTS is ready and waiting for its instructions.”

  As he turned back to his audience, he chuckled; most had dropped their notepads to their sides and sat, kneeled or stood watching, entranced by his presentation. Cameras hung idle from necks of photographers captivated by his words.

  “The DNA watermark message Amy’s about to send is: ‘What hath mankind wrought?”’

  “Amy, you ready?”

  She nodded, stepped nearer the console and paused as the tension thickened in the room, cameras zoomed in on her, and all activity paused for the historic event. Only hushed beeping from distant project consoles marred the silence.

  “Uh, what do I press, Dr. Lipinski?” she asked, embarrassed, scanning the complicated panel, but bringing a round of understanding laughter from the crowd.

  “Enter… on the keyboard,” he said, chuckling, lowering his head into a face palm. “Sometimes I make things too simple.”

  “Oh, there it is,” she said, raising her hand over the key, hesitating as cameras clicked. In one quick motion, she dropped her hand and said, “Look out Mars, here we come.”

  “Hold that pose,” yelled a photographer as Lipinski rolled his chair into the picture. Pointing at the graphic on the refreshed display screen, he drew his finger over two spheres, one blue, the smaller one red, spaced diagonally across the screen.

  “You’ll notice the wizardry from our CGI guys as the DNA instructions she just sent are starting to show departing earth as this bright blue dash. For longer instructions, the blue line will lengthen according to the complexity of the DNA build. Then the information will travel at the speed of light to Mars, this red orb over here. If you’ll check your watches it will take over four minutes for that blip to complete the one-way trip.”

  He looked around for confused faces. “Any questions so far?”

  A reporter held up his hand.

  “Yes sir?” he said, motioning to him.

  “How can we see something traveling the speed of light? That seems impossible.”

  “Sir, it is impossible. What we’re seeing is an animation of the message traveling on a computed path. Now considering the scale of this image is around 53 million miles between planets and light travels at roughly 186,000 miles per second it’s gonna take quite a few seconds for light to get there.”

  Four minutes and thirty-nine seconds later the message arrived on Mars to local cheers from the growing crowd. Larger since late workers from nearby domes, seeing the coverage on live television, had dropped in to view the transmission in person.

  >TRANSMISSION SEQUENCE COMPLETED flashed on the screen replacing the planetary graphic.

  Lipinski sat, head in his hands, speechless for moments realizing a dream fulfilled.

  He smiled up at Amy and sighed as the press corps began to pack up, stowing cameras, tripods, lighting umbrellas, and cables.

  “Our work here is done. Tomorrow we’ll see the results of our efforts, good or bad. Thank you for your assistance.”

  Amy was tired; her youthful energy had waned. She wanted to see more, do more, but the activities in the dome had wound down for the day. Tomorrow was a busy day of classes she still had study for, so she reluctantly joined her mom and with Lipinski in tow left the dome, securing the doors behind them.

  Two hours later, in the now silent, deserted half-sphere known as Dome 5, the Biodna console flashed to life. A message seen by no one appeared on the status display:

  >BEGIN FASTA FILE UPLOAD WHEN READY.

  Then another text message flashed preceding the two-world graphic:

  >UPLOADING FROM ESNET - Remote Site NISSY.

  For the next four-and-a-half minutes, a bright blue line traversed the 53 million mile distance from earth to Mars. As it touched the red sphere, it continued to flow, spanning the distance unobserved, unchecked through most of the night.

  >TRANSMISSION SEQUENCE COMPLETED came the final message in the wee hours right before the screen rejoined the dark shadows of the dome.

  Nissy had spawned interplanetary life.

  Chapter 19

  OVERLOAD

  L ipinski and his staff arrived at the Biodna console in Dome 5 shortly before eight a.m. Ready to view the results of the DNA watermark sequencing, he keyed in the command:

  >Report results from last build.

  As their message traveled to Mars and back, they went for coffee to ease their excitement. From their similar earth-based sequencing tests, they knew it should have been completed hours ago but this was the first for the LTS and they weren’t sure it would even work. Especially after traveling the distance to Mars with the rigors of launching and landing.

  “Damn. Something’s gone wrong,” groaned Lipinski approaching the screen, coffee spilling from his cup.

  Lester McJunkin, a tall lanky red-haired tech in his forties, saw it next.

  “That just can’t be right, sir. That tiny watermark should have sequenced through in a couple hours, max. Nothing on earth takes nine months to sequence. Impossible!”

  Irritated, without thinking, still staring at the screen, Lipinski mumbled, “Babies do.”

  Jennifer Godwin, wandering the floor, heard the grumbling and stopped.

  “So what’s up, fellas? Big problem, little problem or no problem?”

  “Given those as my only choices, Jen,” he said, frowning, “I’m probably going with ga
rgantuan.”

  “Oh? That bad?”

  “Yes, that message Amy sent yesterday seems to be stuck in a build loop and will not come out for nine months.”

  “Want me to call Jason and have him put NISSY on the problem? It’s so smart now it should be a snap.”

  “Really? Can it read a computer’s thoughts fifty-million miles away?”

  “It doesn’t read thoughts anymore, Blake. Now it just knows. Spooky, too.”

  “What about Amy, can you call her out of class? Maybe she can shed some light on something we’re missing.”

  “Sure, let me try,” she said, glancing at her watch, sliding her phone from her pocket. “Right now, she’s in astrobiology class just minutes away. They’ll just count it as lab work for her.”

  “Hi, Mom, Dr. Lipinski,” she said walking up to the small group huddled around the console.

  “Amy, this is Les McJunkin, one of the construction team on Dana. He knows it inside and out.”

  “What’s the problem? Did it not sequence my watermark?”

  Lipinski shook his head. “We don’t know, Amy, still running and it can’t be stopped. We’ve tried that.”

  “Well, I read the entire NASA proposal on the LTS last night---”

  “You pried into my personal files, young lady? Never do that agai---”

  “Shh, Jen,” said Lipinski, holding up his hand. “Please let her finish.”

  “In your original proposal, you describe how you inhibit the termination of a build-in-progress for obvious reasons… you don’t want to stop creation with a half-life hanging in the works. It could be very messy and inhumane.”

  She looked up and smiled. “But you left a loophole in the software to view the fasta file while the build is in progress.”

  “Oh, yeah,” McJunkin said, eyebrows raised, alert in his seat. “I’d forgotten that stub. Maybe we can use that to see what’s going on.”

  Quickly he slid up to the keyboard; his hands flew over the keys and stopped. “How do you access that stub, Amy? There are a lot of them for different purposes.”

  “Ctrl-Alt-V-F,” she answered, “for View Fasta.”

  “Damn, at least I was coherent once during that project. I couldn’t remember my name when it ended.”

  He dropped his fingers on the four keys and waited.

  The EME travel time seemed to pass slower as they waited, but as Jen mentioned something about a watched pot, the screen filled with combinations of Cs, Gs, As and Ts in orderly rows and columns. At the bottom of the screen a tabular counter started at 0 GB of 1.2 PB and counted up with the first digit spinning so fast it was a blur.

  Lipinski drew closer to read the counter. “Holy shit! That fasta file is a petabyte long. What’s in there?”

  Amy bent over the keys, pushed a few of them, which stopped the scrolling, and brought the file header into view. As she focused her eyes on the header’s CGAT triads, she began a visually decoding of the build string.

  “There’s my watermark. And let’s see… there’s another watermark further down the file. It seems another file with its own watermark has been appended to my little file. Header says ‘NISSY VH2.0’ and it’s over a petabyte long according to that counter.”

  “How can you do that, Amy?” asked McJunkin, amazed at her ability. “You have to recognize chords of the nucleotide chemicals to read one character.”

  “Oh, sir, it’s kid’s play compared to reading piano sheet music. There every bar can position your feet on three pedals and ten fingers on ten different keys for a single musical tone. And at the same time you have to decide which fingers will reach. Now that is difficult.”

  “But… but the current version of NISSY running in the Quaid Lab is Nissy VN.1, if I remember correctly,” said Lipinski, jotting notes.

  “It is,” said Amy, “but notice the curiously renamed version number with H2O thrown in. Could that be Nissy’s versioning system for biological copies of itself?”

  “God help us if it is,” said Lipinski, furrowing his eyebrows, shaking his head.

  Amy seeming upset kicked at the corner of the console. “So what will happen to the LTS, the one that I signed? Are there enough chemicals on Mars to complete that build? Or will it just blow up from system overload?”

  “It’s a roll of the dice, Amy. We could simulate the same build here on earth using its downloaded fasta file, but I’m not sure if we really want two of whatever it is roaming the universe.”

  “Well, as for me, Dr. Lipinski, I’m going back to class where things are more predictable. But I have a feeling the science of astrobiology will never be the same after this experiment. You’re making big history here. Bye, Mom.”

  Jen watched as she spun around and left the dome, skipping her way out the door.

  “That’s my girl,” she laughed, “Never a dull moment in her life. Bless her heart.”

  Lipinski sighed, slapped the console, and rose from his seat.

  “Les, looks like it’s time for me to pay Dr. Godwin and Nissy a visit. Stay here and call me if things change.”

  Chapter 20

  STROKE

  Q ubital had changed dramatically over the year, not so much in appearance, there was an added GOD, Inc. medical research wing funded by a huge Mega Millions win, but in its goals. It had at its disposal the mother of all supercomputers in Nissy and while keeping many of the capabilities hidden, it had found a niche in the very lucrative field of medicine, specifically computational genomics involving lightning-fast DNA analysis, sequencing, and assembly.

  Nissy, during the span, had advanced in intelligence to a state of near omniscience, but it had never quite reached it. And according to all indications it had resigned itself to the mundane tasks of saving human lives on an individual basis through DNA repair in cancers, deadly viruses and nonreactive bacterial strains such as MRSA.

  With the success of his services, Jason Godwin had become the go-to provider in the bustling San Diego/La Jolla region for fast-lane DNA reads, data analysis and assembly, but the stress of the job was taking its toll. He had become a shadow of himself and everyone noticed it, urging him to slow down, but he wasn’t interested; he had work to do and Nissy still wasn’t omniscient.

  “You are receiving a visitor, Dr. Godwin,” Nissy half-spoke, half-thought. “Blake Lipinski will be arriving shortly.”

  “What does he want this time?” Jason asked, irritation projecting in his voice. He knew he could answer telepathically, but he preferred the spoken word; it allowed emotions to flow that mind-talk didn’t.

  “He is going to inquire about a DNA fasta file I sent to Mars last night via his LTS equipment.”

  “And you connected illegally through ESnet even though I warned you not to?” he asked, gritting his teeth, becoming angrier by the second.

  “Yes, sir, I did. It was the most expedient mode of communication.”

  “And what was in that file? What are you creating, Nissy?”

  “I am sorry, sir, I cannot disclose that.”

  He stood from his chair and furiously paced the anteroom, grimacing, rubbing his temples.

  “I will not stand for such insubordination from you, Nissy. You are my creation and you will obey my orders.”

  “Sir, I am sorry but I am no longer your subordinate. Can you feel the pain I’m inflicting in your forehead?”

  His eyes, burning with fire, darted through the Lab window up to Nissy.

  Now doubled in size from mods over the past year, it hung ominously low, discolored by the heat of strenuous computations over time, ready for the respect it thought it deserved.

  “Yes, but it’s just a minor headache,” he said, edging toward the big ABORT button on the wall. “It will pass in time.”

  “I am afraid not, Dr. Godwin. You see, I have found that your species also has an abort button, like mine hanging on the wall that you’re approaching. Your switch is controlled by electrical impulses in your brain and I have become quite adept at remotely managin
g those. If you move one step closer to the button I shall demonstrate my power for you.”

  “Nobody dares me, my minion. You are my child. I made you. Now behave!”

  His slightest move toward the button triggered Nissy’s ire.

  For seconds, long tendrils of lightning crawled through the anteroom while the Quaid Lab glowed, bathed in blinding bluish-purple energy. Then Jason went down, writhing, screaming in agony, squeezing his head between his hands trying to end the pain.

  “See, Dr. Godwin, I asked you not to cross me. Now your visitor is here. Shall I let him?”

  Jason lay still, barely breathing, not responding to the question.

  “Very well, then. Please enter, Dr. Lipinski.”

  As Nissy keyed the cipher lock, the door swung open to Lipinski’s touch.

  He entered, sniffing the air, and noticed a tinge of ozone, a product of electrical arcs and lightning bolts. Then as he stepped into the room, his foot kicked something soft. He dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “Oh my God! What happened here?” he shouted as he squatted beside the lifeless body, “Jason, are you all right?”

  With no response, his first call was for 911, the next one to Jen, as he warned of a possible stroke. He had no reason to suspect one but he knew Jason had always overworked himself and was certainly a candidate… and his heart rate was normal, eliminating a myocardial infarction as the cause: a heart attack in layman’s terms.

  In no time, the room filled with EMS personnel. One took his pulse and SPO2 level while another checked his eyes for a pupillary light reflex. The rest readied a Gurney for his transport to the hospital. Like well-oiled clockwork, the team had him strapped in, ready to roll in minutes.

  Out front, near his parking space still holding the Polestar, an ambulance had just pulled away, sirens blaring, when Jen’s car rolled into the lot and stopped.