I shifted in my seat. “Which brings me to the reason for my visit. You’ve drawn up plans for any number of megastructures over the years, both as serious proposals and as study material for your courses. Have you ever done a topopolis?”
“Yes, certainly. As a megastructure, it has a lot going for it. Effectively infinite land area by simply adding more length. No increase in structural or material strength requirements, no matter how long you make it. No need for inhabitants to ever go outside. And if built with sufficient diameter, no Coriolis force to speak of. And it can be added to at any time, if the initial design is done properly.”
“Really? You'd cut open the loop? How would you keep the air from escaping?”
“First, Will, you don't need to have a closed loop. There’s really no physical reason why you couldn't leave the ends unconnected. It wouldn't have a stable orbit anyway, so in either scenario you'd need some method of orbital adjustment. And you’d build it in segments of some length, with some kind of barrier at the end of each segment. The barrier wouldn't even have to go right to the center, as long as the segments were already rotating. Spillover would be trivial.”
I nodded slowly. Without knowing anything about Heaven’s River, Stephen had described it with amazing accuracy. “Good. Stephen, I wonder if I could ask you to look at some scans and comment?”
His eyebrows went up. I hadn’t given him a lot of detail about the purpose of the meeting, except to say that I wanted to talk about megastructures. He accepted the files as I offered them, and converted them to paper idioms, then started flipping through the stack. He muttered a few sentences, then his eyes grew rounder and wider, and he went silent several times he flipped back to earlier pages. Finally converted the idiom to a 3D image. Hanging between us was a four segment long stretch of Heaven’s River.
“Oh. My. God. Someone built one? Who?”
“They aren’t human, Stephen. We’re still learning about them. Here.” I flipped up an image of a Quinlan, hanging in space beside the engineering segment.
“Have you talked to them?”
“Not openly, no. They have a disturbing tendency to shoot first. We’re trying to figure things out without exposing ourselves.”
“Not the Others all over again though?”
“No, nothing like that. Just ground-level belligerence, I think.”
He nodded and leaned forward to inspect the segment. “So, what would you like to know?”
“Limitations. What they can and can't do. How they're likely to lay it out. Infrastructure were looking for someone in the structure, and any info that could narrow things down would be helpful.”
Stephen glanced at me, then poked at the image. “Well, I see a transportation system right there. Vacuum monorail, or something similar. That would be your long-distance travel option. I love the river concept. Artificial current of course, since there is no downhill along the length. I suppose you could raise one end of the river in each segment and pump the water upward, but then you'd have issues of topography even a 1/10% grade for this implementation would mean a half-mile elevation at the headwaters, and moving all that mass up and down would create issues of angular momentum…” He paused, then pointed. “The hollow mountains every 500 miles or so would be where your maintenance and infrastructure would be.
“Wait, hollow mountains?” I peered more closely at the image. It wasn't obvious from the visual, but it appeared the interior of the mountains was actually void space. “Of course, Will. You wouldn't want mountains of real rock, the mass would place a lot of strain on that segment of the topopolis, and to no purpose. Instead, you build a hollow shell which, being closer to the axis, exhibits less centrifugal weight than average. Then you put all your infrastructure that you don't want people to have to look at inside the hollow. Like a theme park. All the mechanicals are hidden.”
“Oh, for crying…” I zoomed in on the image. At the upper limit of magnification, there was the barest hint of detail under the mountains. “And an entrance?”
“No way to predict how that would be designed, but I'm sure now that you know where to look, you can locate one.”
“Interesting. Something to check out, if we could get a scanning drone into position.” I sat back and made a gesture for him to continue.
Stephen examined the hologram in silence for several more mils, then pointed at one of the impellers under a river segment. “I don't think you've correctly characterized the river system, Will. This isn't one river - it's four. Alternately going in opposite directions. The tributaries and feeders allow the rivers to exchange contents, but if you check the impeller configurations, there are two main flow directions. And note how at the segment boundaries, the rivers coalesce into four straits running through the mountain barriers, two in each direction.”
I examined the hologram in silence. Stephen appeared to be correct. We’d completely missed the fact that the impellers were pointing in two opposite directions. “I guess it makes sense. There’s no logical reason to give one direction priority over the other. This way you can go downstream in either direction, by just switching river systems.”
Stephen examined the hologram for several more full seconds, then pointed to the radiators on the dark side of the strand. “Heat dispersal is of course a problem. The topopolis, by its nature, is a mostly closed system. And the artificial sun simply dumps more heat into the habitat. They've designed things to extract heat through an exchange system with the outer shell that actually generates electricity from the gradient. Brilliant! Then it's transferred to the cooling fins on the outer shell to be radiated into space. I imagine the heat signature would be significant.”
“Significant enough to be seen from light-years away,” I said, smiling. Stephen was hitting it out of the park.
He continued to examine the document, but appeared to have extracted all the revelations he could. He finally sighed, sat back, and gestured at the image. “Can I get a copy of this? Could I use it in my lectures?”
“I don’t see why not, it's not a secret. Although there is some controversy in the Bobiverse about whether we should even be getting involved.”
Stephen snorted. “You’d think being dead would free you from the dictates of politics, but apparently it's even more inevitable than death or taxes. Do you know that I endure protests regularly?”
My eyebrows went up in surprise. “Protests? At the university?”
“Yes. There is some sentiment that I shouldn't be taking up a position that could be filled by a living human being.”
“Unbelievable.” I shook my head. “And the university's position?”
“They take the stance that they will consider replacing me when a replacement candidate is found with my qualifications.”
“Eminently logical. Probably drive the protesters crazy.”
Stephen smiled. “Which is why I am so hopeful that your brother Howard's human-android-interface project will show some early success.”
“I… what?” Apparently, Howard had his fingers in more pies than I knew. “I'm visiting him after a leave here, I'll certainly ask him about that.” I shifted forward in my chair. “Thank you very much, Professor Gilligan. You've been a great help.”
Stephen waved off the complement. “It is my job, after all. But you don't have to leave just yet, do you? I’d love to learn more about the Bobiverse, as you call it.”
“Not at all. What would you like to know?” I wasn't in a big hurry, and little quid pro quo wasn't unreasonable.
The conversation with Prof. Gilligan had been fascinating, and he had extracted a promise from me to keep them updated and possibly even invite them into the group. I would have to discuss that with the others, but the professor had a large knowledge set, and in my opinion would be an asset.
Meanwhile Howard was next on my list. I wanted to talk with one of the other Bobs about some personal issues, and Howard seem like the best idea, since he lived in human society full-time. The conversation with Prof
essor Gilligan just added more fuel.
I pinged Howard and received an invitation and a Manny address. I entered the Manny, and in seconds I was stepping out of the pod in Howard and Bridget's apartment. Bridget waved at me from her seat and went back to what she was doing. She appeared to be working on a computer, but the monitor was virtual, floating in the air in front of her. Parts of the image were typical 2D info, but other parts were 3D and appeared to pop out from the image. It was not only holographic, but also touch sensitive. I checked my libraries and realized this was a breed of computer called a Canvas. Quite neat. Almost as good as the metaphors we used in virt.
“Hey Will,” Howard said, motioning me to the couch. “What’s cooking?” I sat, glanced down at my hands, and realized I was in a generic Manny. I wasn't sure why, but I'd been expecting to find myself in a Bob model.
I held up my hands. “Uh…”
“Sorry, Bud. If you wanted a Bob Manny, you’d have to pick one up from the public storage pods. We've got a couple-”
“Public storage pods?”
“Generic and custom Mannies stored for individuals and organizations, according to need or available for rental. Just vehicles. We, by which I mean the Bobiverse, maintain a couple of Bob Mannies in all major cities in human space. The monthly storage cost is trivial.”
“Paid and what?” I said, then held up my hand before Howard could answer. “Sorry. I came to ask you a couple of questions, and the questions are multiplying faster than I can even articulate them. I’ve been pretty much sidelined on Valhalla for a couple of decades now, Howard, and I feel like a hermit who is just hiked back down to civilization to discover cell phones.”
Howard granted my discomfiture. Even Brigid smiled briefly without turning around, listening with at least one ear apparently.
“Okay, well to answer the last question first: Pams. They’re a unit of currency that have been adopted across human space. Stands for Printer Autofactory Minutes. Basically, it's the value of one minute of auto factory time.”
“But that’s ridiculous, you can just print more auto factories, and you'll have…”
“More available autofactory minutes, but with reduced value due to inflation. Like a government back on Earth, printing more currency. In fact, very much the same type of feedback systems. An economist from the 21st century would get it right away. The threat of reducing the value of a Pam demotivates companies from making too many autofactories.”
I waved it away. “Okay, it makes sense, I guess. But I want to ask about something Professor Gilligan said. Something about baseline humans being able to wear a Manny? He said the research was being done here by you.”
“Not quite true. I'm…” Howard glanced at Bridget. “We are financing it. It would avoid another situation like the Prometheus expedition.” Howard was silent for a moment, and I nodded in sympathy. The deaths had been hard on Howard and Bridget. “As well as forestall some of the anti-Manny sentiment going around these days.”
“Stephen said something about that. University protests?”
Howard snorted. “Well, you really have been out of it. Your professor friend lectures at the Vulcan University using a Manny. There have been pretty regular protests against his presence. The gist seems to be that he's dead, and shouldn’t be taking up a spot that could be available for someone still living. That’s the most common complaint, but by no means the only one. Even just wandering around in a Manny, you might find yourself being picketed.”
I put my head in my hands. “Oh, for Christ's sake. And how widespread is this?”
“Pretty localized right now, Will. But we’re of the opinion that it'll just get worse as more replicants start using Mannies. I'm hoping that if we can make the Mannies usable by humans, then it's no longer an us-versus-them situation.”
“Unbelievable.” I shook my head. “I always thought your experience with Bridget's daughter Rosie was just an aberration, an isolated incident. Not so much, maybe.”
“Afraid not. It's the standard ‘other prejudice’. We’re immortal. Stronger, faster, don't get tired, and are generally just more capable than a bio. No surprise, there’s concern about being displaced.”
Howard paused and appeared uncomfortable for a moment, then deliberately continued in a lighter tone. “Anyway, it's nowhere near ready for prime time, but the process works, at least in the lab. We use focused magnetic stimulation to first activate the brain regions that cause paralysis during sleep, and second, stimulate sensory regions with input from the Manny and at the same time pick up intentional muscle cues.”
“So, it’s like the subject is dreaming, but they're awake and everything is rerouted to the Manny.”
“Exactly. All you need is a headset.”
“And would be like that Bruce Willis movie, Surrogates.”
“Well, eventually. As I said, we haven't worked all the bugs out.”
I nodded, impressed. “Geeze, Howard. You're turning into a real mogul.”
Howard grinned.
“You know what moguls are, right?”
“Uh, the buried bodies of forty-something men who took up snowboarding?”
I laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Wait, you haven’t…”
“Yes,” Bridget said from her computer. “He has. We have a place up in Fairbanks. He’s totaled four Mannies already, trying to master the terrain park.”
Howard and I grinned at each other without comment. Definitely not mature.
17. First Day in Heaven’s River
Bob
June 2334
Heaven’s River
Five furred Mannies packed into a full-sized drone's cargo bay, breathing vacuum. Bill, Garfield, Bridget, and I formed the primary expedition group, and Will was running the backup Manny. Once we made it into the interior of Heaven’s River, we would hide the extra Manny in case of future need. We hoped we wouldn't lose anyone in the operation and find ourselves needing the spare. If we lost two, we would probably abort and reevaluate our entry strategy.
The cargo door stood open, giving us a view of a solid wall of… well, something. Even with my eyes cranked up to full photo-multiplier setting, I couldn’t make out detail. It could be concrete, or smooth rock. It might even have color. Direct center on the framed view was an even darker circle, which I knew led through 100 yards of tunnel to the gap between the inner and outer shells. We couldn't activate any lights, of course. The cargo drone had the usual ice core to keep its heat signature down. But having the cargo bay open was doubtless interfering with that tactic.
At the levels of sensitivity that such things operated under, even the small amount of infrared radiating from the dark side of the topopolis strand would be adding to our heat load. Our Mannies weren’t heat sunk, either, so we glowed like miniature stars in infrared. We had to make the traverse to the entry tunnel as quickly as possible. While it was unlikely that any Boogen would pick that exact moment to do is sweep, we were all firm believers in the power of Murphy.
“Moving into position,” Gandalf said over the intercom. “Bob, you jump when I say. Everyone else, follow at three second intervals. Roamers will catch you if you screw the pooch. Don't do that.”
I winked at Garfield, who was second in line. I wasn't sure how the autonomous systems translated that, but he smiled back. Or the Quinlan equivalent.
“Now.”
I crouched, aimed, and launched. The Quinlan form wasn't particularly what you'd call a leaping friendly physique, but the OS adapted without effort. I sailed the short distance to the hole in the wall and caught the edge. I had three seconds to get out of Garfield's way, so I scrambled into the darkness. I felt the slight vibration as Garfield landed behind me. Very tiny dim LED lamps lit the path forward. I didn't have any physical experience with zero-g movement, but the underwater reflexes of the Manny seem to translate well. I was able to move down the tunnel with only the occasional touch to correct my course.
The tunnel was a tight fit. The Gamers had done
the minimum amount of cutting required to get us through. Good strategy. The less we disturb the regolith, the better. Fortunately, they’d allowed room for Quinlan plus backpack. Quinlans didn't go in for clothes, except some ceremonial decorations. But the most common fashion accessory by far was a backpack. Lots of pockets, and given the Quinlans preferred method of getting around, the backpacks were designed to be waterproof and watertight when closed. We had designed ours to look as nondescript as possible. And used, so we wouldn’t look like we just walked out of a sporting goods store.
We each had a standard kit consisting of common Quinlan items, like dried snacks, a comb, some first-aid supplies, and a claw file. But the most important item, and one we anticipated actually needing, was a good supply of the local money. All strictly mundane, from a Quinlan point of view.
“Everyone's in,” Gandalf reported. “Good luck.”
We would be in constant contact through SCUT, but from this point on there would be no possibility of any physical intervention. We were truly on our own. If one of us ‘died’, they were off the team. At least until they could catch up to the rest of us in the spare. Will could substitute, if one of us couldn't be available to run their Manny at any point. For that reason, he had to monitor the party’s progress so that he was always up to date on current events, but it would only take a few seconds, once a day, to review logs.
I came out of the tunnel and grabbed a convenient anchor cable that the Gamers had laid for us, alongside more of the low-power lights. I moved a few yards along to make room for the others, then looked up and froze in place. Heaven’s River consisted of a stationary outer shell made of regolith, interwoven with structural members and some kind of 3D carbon fiber mesh, and a rotating inner shell made of a combination of metal and ceramics forming some kind of meta-material reinforced with the same carbon mesh. What I hadn't realized, or maybe hadn't paid attention to before, was the fact that the space between the two shells was only about 10 yards. Since the structure was 56 miles in radius, the curve of either shell wasn't discernible from my vantage point. But I could tell which way was which because the inner shell was rotating… at over half a mile per second. From my point of view, I was standing about 10 yards from a surface moving at about 1950 mph. Telling myself this was an illusion didn't help, and it didn't matter how smooth that surface was. If I came into contact with it, it would be like leaning against a giant grinding wheel. Not to mention that I get kicked into a spin that would probably rip my limbs off. And my part in the expedition would be over before it even started.
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