Edge of Survival Box Set 1

by William Oday

1

  DR. HARI GANESH hated that mankind’s survival hung by the ragged thread of petty politics and budget subcommittees. That the future of humanity might depend upon available, and yet unallocated, resources made his jaws clench and stomach burn.

  Such infuriating ignorance!

  And he had another call later that day in which he would be required to grovel and beg and assure. All for a cause that should’ve required no persuasion.

  The thought turned his stomach and left him feeling agitated. He would need to remain calm to effectively do the job. And so he’d decided to go for a walk in the garden to settle his mind.

  But this was no ordinary garden.

  He exited the elevator and approached the soldier standing guard at the security door that led to the subterranean gardens level. The football field sized cavern was his favorite location in the vast underground complex that was Project Hermes. It was one of the few places where he could temporarily escape the burden of being the director.

  All of the expectations.

  All of the achievements and disappointments.

  All his responsibility.

  And he felt the weight of the upcoming collider test more keenly than anyone could ever understand.

  Out of long familiarity, the soldier nodded as Hari swiped his key card over the reader. It blinked green and the door silently slid open revealing a narrow corridor beyond.

  He followed the winding hall carved out of solid rock. He trailed a finger over the dark surface, feeling the sharp ridges and cavities where a chisel or hammer had long ago left its mark. The upper offices level had been finished with sheetrock walls and ceilings, low pile carpet, ninety degree corners and all the small things that made a space feel normal.

  The lower levels, on the other hand, had been finished to a functional state. Further improvements had been deemed too costly and unnecessary.

  It hadn’t been Hari’s decision as most of the complex had been finished when he first arrived so long ago, but he approved nonetheless.

  The undulating rock surface gave one a sense of place. Aside from the lack of windows, the upper offices felt like they could be in any skyscraper or office building in the world. And it made the transition to the other levels that much more jarring.

  Thick cables ran overhead along the center of the corridor. A glowing yellow light every dozen feet kept most of the shadows at bay. The hue of the lights had been carefully selected to match the wavelength of sunlight.

  Humans evolved up on the surface and so the project had made many accommodations to make life hundreds of feet below healthier, more pleasant and sustainable.

  But there was only so much that could be done.

  The constant hum of the air exchangers and the ever-present odor of mildew mixed with the harsh cleaners that fought to control it were subtle reminders of the limits of human ingenuity.

  Hari rarely noticed them anymore.

  Their ubiquity made them fade into the background.

  He arrived at the final security door and again swiped his card. The reader flashed green and the magnetic locks disengaged. The door slid open and the lush scent of thriving vegetation enveloped him.

  Entering the gardens was always literally a breath of fresh air.

  After another turn, the corridor opened into an expansive cavern that seemed to stretch on forever. The roof high above had ordered arrays of massive grow lights that cast warm light down on field after field of crops.

  Everything required to meet the nutritional needs of everyone at the project.

  Monthly shipments arrived with all of the luxury goods that gave life variety, but all of the essentials were here.

  Beans, corn, broccoli, lettuce, carrots, onions, and more filled the space. Each crop was grown in precise fifty by fifty foot production grids that were internally organized into tidy rows. Each grid was tended by its own farmbot.

  Spiders, as they’d quickly been nicknamed.

  And for good reason.

  Each bot dangled from a string of bundled cables attached to overhead trusses that allowed it to cover every square inch of the grid as well as move up and down. Extending from a spherical torso the size of a human head were articulated arms ending in claws, shovels, water nozzles, nutrient solution nozzles, and other more mysterious implements that Hari had never bothered to ask about.

  There was no dirt.

  That would’ve required too much water and also would’ve invited too many pests.

  The spiders, along with the agricultural hardware techs that kept them going, operated the largest aquaponics system in the world.

  All of the crops were only part of the system.

  The far end of the cavern housed massive tanks filled with Blue Tilapia. That specific species was chosen as it had a high tolerance for brackish water and could thrive in water as cold as forty-seven degrees.

  Neither was an issue so long as the system had power, but it was one detail among many that increased the facility’s self-reliance in the event of catastrophe.

  The fish waste fed the plants and the plants cleaned the water that recirculated back into the fish tanks. The tilapia were grown to full size and then harvested and served in the cafeteria to meet daily protein requirements.

  The kitchen staff had long ago exhausted every possible way of preparing the fish.

  Hari appreciated that they still tried to be creative after so many years, but he still would’ve preferred more regular deliveries of beef, chicken, turkey, or really any protein that wasn’t tilapia.

  The project’s extreme self-sufficiency was an integral part of maintaining a low profile on the island. Of course, being several hundred feet underground helped, too.

  But that was as much a requirement for minimizing external influences on the particle collision tests as it was for safeguarding secrecy. As deep as the gardens level was, the collider ring itself was deeper yet at an average of six hundred feet underground.

  Accurate study of the quantum signatures of particle collisions required an absolutely sterile vacuum. Any spare neutrinos or electrons passing through would instantly invalidate the results.

  The extreme depth along with the hardened electrical infrastructure meant that the entire complex was well protected from damaging solar radiation or any other electromagnetic radiation that might occur.

  It wasn’t explicitly designed to withstand a direct nuclear strike, but it could probably survive one with minimal damage.

  Hari zigzagged through the aisles, breathing in the vibrant air, letting it soothe his jangled nerves. He hated the weekly report sessions with Mr. Hill. A walk through the gardens was often required before and after to keep his irritation in check. He inhaled another sweet breath and felt the muscles in his legs begin to loosen as he walked.

  Industrial air exchangers sucked out the oxygen-rich air at one end of the cavern and piped back in the carbon dioxide rich air from the rest of the complex at the other end. Safety sensors on every level ensured that the air was always safe to breathe.

  Even so, it was never as full and alive as here in the gardens.

  He finally made it to his destination which was a small section of a grid reserved for the personal use of the upper level management. Other than the techs that kept the operation running and the custodians that kept it clean, there were very few personnel allowed access to this level.

  Food was security and so it was secured.

  But the weight of leadership had its perks and this was perhaps the one he appreciated most. Hari knelt down on aching knees and touched the plant he’d come to see.

  A clone of the famous Shenzen Nongke Orchid. The mother plant had sold for over two hundred thousand dollars at auction.

  He stroked the pale green leaves and wondered for the thousandth time if it would ever bloom again. It was supposed to every four to five years. But this one hadn’t in ten.

  Not since his assistant Zhang had disappeared.

  Not since Hari had killed him. />
  Killed the man that had been like a son to him.

  The orchid had been Zhang’s. He had cared for it every day, always taking a few minutes out of his busy schedule to tend to the plant.

  Hari knew it wasn’t possible, but he almost believed that it somehow knew its true owner was gone and so refused to show its beauty.

  A hollow clanging noise drew his attention away. Everything sounded vaguely hollow in the gardens due to the hard surfaces of the distant roof and walls.

  He looked up and saw a bald man from the custodial staff cleaning up a mess several grids over. The spider must’ve blown a circuit because it looked like it had taken a chainsaw to the vegetation in that grid. Hari had seen the man countless times emptying a trashcan, mopping up a mess, and all the other usual cleaning activities.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered. “Yes?”

  “The video call you were expecting is on hold in conference room two.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be for another forty minutes.”

  “He’s on the line now.”

  Feeling every minute of his sixty-seven years, Hari stood up and started back toward the elevators. “On my way.”

  As much as he despised reporting in like a child to a parent, it was never wise to ruffle the feathers of the man who controlled the project’s annual budget.

  2

  Hari was no stranger to achieving the seemingly impossible. After all, the project had done just that ten years ago. However, the following decade of research and collider tests had achieved nothing of note. Refinements to the existing technology had proven frustratingly elusive. So much so that some at the project had begun to believe that any further progress was likely impossible.

  But it wasn’t.

  Not theoretically.

  He drew in measured breaths to ease the tension in his chest. He drummed the conference table with long skeletal fingers, noting the jolting ache of every impact. Each contact sent a low-powered electrical signal racing through his nervous system. At the end of that path, his brain fulfilled its primary function of interpreting stimulus in an effort to avoid pain and to seek pleasure.

  When stripped down to the bare essentials, survival was nothing more than following those two simple dictates. First, to avoid pain. And second, to seek pleasure.

  But the complexity of the human psyche could subvert those directives, such that pain became pleasure.

  So Hari continued the sequential tapping, the four fingers of his right hand rising and falling in cyclic waves of deserved discomfort. He looked around the spartan conference room, the door shut and the blinds drawn. Some might’ve thought it sterile, but he approved.

  He took another slow breath, still trying to ease the anxiety constricting his chest. After ten long years of searching, the answer was finally within reach.

  If it didn’t turn out to be yet another failure.

  He stared at the large monitor covering one wall, waiting for it to blink to life. Despite dehumidifiers running twenty-four hours a day, the air always felt damp between his fingertips. And it was always a little cooler than his thin frame preferred. The first eight years of his life on the streets in the unrelenting heat of Kolkata had set a permanent preference for heat.

  He often hoped that when his day finally came, he would pass in a warm place like Florida or Southern California. A place that would warm his old bones and failing brain.

  Hari pinched at the sharp ache in his right hand. Medication would help but it had side effects, both obvious and subtle. And he eschewed anything that might affect his long term mental acuity. Especially any medication that required daily doses and became a crutch with a catch.

  So many people in the modern day used so-called lifestyle drugs that altered their brain and body chemistry to be happier, or calmer, or thinner, or to have erections that lasted longer. Every ailment addressed by the promise of a pill.

  They all required a compromise that he was unwilling to make.

  He winced as an especially sharp twinge pulsed up through his wrist. He accepted the sensation as a reminder that he was still alive and that the wrong he’d done might yet be remedied.

  He’d killed a man.

  A man that was the son he’d never had.

  All for an idealistic truth that no longer mattered.

  The dark screen blinked on and a featureless head spoke. “Dr. Ganesh, I presume.”

  He’d never clearly seen the man that was his boss since joining the project, but the silhouette on the screen was not the same as before. This one had a narrower head and a thinner neck. And the voice sounded younger.

  A squirm of doubt twisted in Hari’s stomach. “Where is Mr. Hill?”

  “You report to me now.”

  “Why? What happened to Mr. Hill?”

  “I ask the questions, Dr. Ganesh. Not you.”

  “What might I have the pleasure of calling you? Or will you not answer that either?”

  “Call me Mr. Hill.”

  “How original.”

  “Originality isn’t my concern. An update on your lack of progress is. There is a growing opinion that the extravagant sums being spent on this project could be utilized better elsewhere.”

  Hari’s gut twisted with worry. They couldn’t shut him down now. Not before the upcoming collider test. “The previous Mr. Hill understood the value of what we are doing here.”

  “Dr. Ganesh, I am here to determine whether your project merits the funding it receives. Let me say from the outset that I have grave doubts on the matter. But I’m granting you the opportunity to change my mind.”

  What a pompous mental midget!

  Hari tried to hide the disgust on his face, and didn’t succeed. The Hermes Project had fundamentally altered humanity’s understanding of reality. Not publicly. But to the scientists inside the project for now and to the wider public some day.

  That this simpleton would show up out of nowhere and question the measly amount dedicated to such an important project was a slap in the face. A slap in the face to everyone who had worked so hard for so long.

  And especially to himself.

  But he swallowed his anger and resigned himself to selling what had already been bought. “As you are new here, please indulge me while I relate a brief history of our past efforts. That will more suitably frame how far we’ve come.” Hari had no idea how informed this new Mr. Hill was and he didn’t want any decisions about the project’s future made without the context of the problem and their progress to this point.

  “Proceed.”

  “In 2003, the NEC Earth Simulator supercomputer in Yokohama, Japan finished seventeen months of calculations building the most comprehensive climate model known.

  The age of Big Data had arrived with a big conclusion—the extinction of the human race.

  Subsequent simulations on newer and faster supercomputers have refined that result, but the basic premise hasn’t changed. Humanity has around one hundred years left on this planet.”

  “Continue.”

  “It was the simple understanding of exponential growth, specifically that of the global population, that made the result inescapable. Too many humans have created inescapable problems. Climate change. Resource depletion. Decreased biodiversity. Acidification of the oceans. We are entering the final phase of the Holocene extinction event that humanity started some eleven thousand years ago.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  The tone of his voice made his skepticism abundantly clear.

  “And so we looked to escape doom by leaving the planet and finding a new home. Of the two final options considered, pursuing faster than light travel was decided upon over generational ships. Unknown to the general public, CERN began directing most of its resources toward this end. And unknown to all but those employed here, Project Hermes was founded to beat them to it. We thought we’d discovered the key ten years ago. But that key unlocked a different door. One that for a decade we’ve not been
able to take more than a step through.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware of the project’s shortcomings.”

  Hari gritted his teeth. He’d led the project to the most important scientific discovery of all time. Beyond the atom. Beyond relativity. Beyond quantum mechanics.

  Who was this man to question him?

  Yes, there had been stuttering progress since the initial discovery, but unraveling the mysteries of the universe wasn’t like manufacturing smaller transistors. It didn’t follow a predictable curve like Moore’s Law.

  Scientific advancement came in leaps and starts, as it always had.

  “Research into the fundamental nature of reality is not like plugging numbers into a spreadsheet, Mr. Hill.” The new Mr. Hill seemed to lack even the limited vision of the previous Mr. Hill. This one felt more like a spreadsheet, bean-counter type.

  “While that may be true, annual budgets are precisely like that. And the funds allocated to your project have been called into question. So if you’d prefer to retain that funding, I’d suggest you get to the point.”

  Yes, the new Mr. Hill was a definite downgrade on the only marginally acceptable original.

  “Mr. Hill, I have good news and bad news.”

  “Do you think this is a children’s game, Doctor? Because I will shut you down the instant that I feel that is the case.”

  Hari bit back a scathing reply. “I assure you, Mr. Hill, I do not. I simply state the truth.”

  “Tell me the bad news.”

  “The bad news is that the last two years of research have confirmed the conclusion that faster-than-light travel is not possible. Or, if it is, it is so far beyond our current or near future capabilities that it is effectively impossible within the given timeframe. As such, it is not a solution to our extinction predicament.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for your continued funding. What’s the good news?”

  Hari tried to keep the childish excitement from his voice. But even with his advanced years, a tone of youthful exuberance seeped in. “Our other avenue of inquiry has progressed to a point of possible revelation.”

  “Could you stop speaking like a philosopher and start speaking like someone who wants to keep his job?”