Preoccupied as she was with the sociological impact of rapid technological change, and excited by the potential of CTT, Julia moved to Oxford and wrote her PhD thesis entitled ‘Mind-sharing – collective augmentation of human thought’. She argued that CTT would quickly be extended to enable individuals to selectively share whatever sectors of their minds they chose to, with single or multiple partners, and that the result would be a quantum jump in human intellectual power, as well as sensory experience. It gained her international recognition as a practical contemporary philosopher and she was courted by a plethora of prestigious international organisations.
Julia retained her slightly stocky, athletic appearance. She was trim and pretty enough, medium height, with a rather aquiline nose, square face and an intense, but not intimidating, energy radiating from her grey eyes. Most men found her unnerving, not because she used her intellect to overpower them, but rather because she suppressed it and seemed to have so much in reserve. Unfortunately her judgement of men tended to go to pieces when she found herself in an intimate situation where pheromone interaction prevailed, and she tended to get involved with jocks whose admirable self-confidence often turned out to be self-absorption and indifference to her intellect. Consequently her sex life was at times vigorous but vacuous.
Julia emerged from academia a polished and confident twenty-six-year-old with her childhood inspiration intact. She had stayed the course, prepared herself, and now, as the worst fears of climate change were beginning to be realised, she knew she must deliver.
But the political and social environment in the world as it entered the twenty-second century was no longer a progression of great cooperative international endeavours as it had been fifty years earlier. While the foundations of global cooperation in the field of macro-economics, human health, space technology and resources management had been well laid out after centuries of wasteful competitive nationalism, the increasing frequency and severity of extreme climatic events was draining the wealth of almost all nations and beginning to undermine the progress that had been made in reducing poverty and providing education and health care to all underprivileged communities.
The huge agricultural robots that had transformed the quality of life of so many farming communities degenerated into hazardous, expensive junk in cataclysmic storms and floods, leaving their surviving dependents with neither the means nor the knowledge to replace them with alternative means of food production. Even the most advanced, highly productive genetically modified crops could not stand the loss of water supplies as deserts advanced into former bread baskets. Extended heatwaves and severely cold periods and their consequences killed tens of thousands of people at all levels of society, aggravated by increasing energy supply failures and costs.
It had long been apparent that humanity needed a Plan B and the ISEA had been founded with the mandate to develop the alternative of planetary resettlement. This did not replace the huge ongoing projects in climate-change management and resource conservation, but it was very well funded by the G25 governments. The reason for this was the time-honoured instinct for self-preservation; political leaders the world over knew that, should society break down as a result of the failure of these measures, they needed to be among the first to get off the planet.
Julia had received several very attractive offers from major data houses, which saw enormous potential value in mind-sharing, but commercial exploitation of her ideas was absolutely repugnant to her, and she approached one of her senior academic colleagues for advice on joining the UN. A couple of weeks later she received an invitation for “a spot of dinner with someone in communications at ISEA”.
Her host turned out to be an extremely articulate and entertaining former US Ambassador to the UK, who was retired but “doing a bit of work for the ISEA”. He explained to her in compelling terms how the ISEA would be on the cusp of future international relations and told her that, if she really wanted to use her mind to transform the future of humanity, here was her opportunity. She was utterly dazzled and would have signed a contract on his napkin if he had asked her. Two days later she received a formal invitation and a plane ticket, and her path of entry into the greatest adventure in human history began.
6
Ethnicity Ubiquitous
“I will not allow this mission to be undermined by primitive tribal disputes!” Arlette banged her fist on the breakfast table emphatically. “Anyone with an agenda will have to go.”
Julia had given as concise a summary of the situation in Armenia as she could, but she pulled no punches about the strength of feeling that could exist between some of the crew members, who were, after all, flag bearers of national pride, especially in the case of the smaller countries.
“Then they will have to choose between national pride and the mission. Let’s have all those affected together and make their choices clear to them.”
“That might just drive their inclinations underground,” said Chang. “I would suggest a more subtle approach.”
“Subtlety be dammed!” said Arlette. “This is a fundamental issue of loyalty and commitment. We are all bound to subordinate our personal interests and feelings to the best interests of the mission. Anyone whose position has changed as a result of a regional conflict needs to stand up and say so and take the consequences.”
“I suggest one-on-ones with one of our psychologists,” Chang went on. “We have eight on board. That’s just a half a day’s work to identify where the problems may be.”
“That’s already been done,” Arlette fumed. “Everybody has been screened for their suitability. I don’t want a reluctant crew member nursed along with soft soap. Please get all those on the list together in the command centre at 11.00. We can have the psychologists there to watch the body language, but I want to make it clear exactly what is required and to have the opportunity to look each one in the eye.”
Julia was trying to imagine how a crew member would feel if, having been singled out because of their nationality, they were then asked to reconfirm their loyalty. ‘It won’t catch the criminally inclined,’ she thought. ‘Basic screening must have done that – but could the mind change in a crisis like this, when people are dying and emotions inflamed?’ She decided that she would have a word in Arlette’s ear before the meeting.
Virtual training proceeded as scheduled and Arlette familiarised herself with the maintenance section, talking to each engineer about his equipment responsibilities, trying to gauge the resilience of the individual and how he or she, and the associated hardware, would stand up to conditions of extreme stress. She spent a long time with the gravity generation section, doing a virtual walk through the entire plant, going over the development of the technology and quizzing the team about the procedures in case of equipment failure. All four of them were Ukrainians, who talked with passion and great pride about the inspired innovations along the way to producing the functional hardware.
Dima, the group leader, was fair and burly with stunning royal blue eyes. He touched Arlette on the forearm with each point that he made, as if he wanted her to share the affection he obviously felt for his wondrous machinery. He also touched Dasha, whom he called ‘my baby girl’, although she was 42, equally burly and a former test pilot, Andriy and Vlad, the other members of the group, in the same intensely personal way whenever he introduced them into his holographic presentation.
Finally he said with passion, “Comanderrr, we will never let you down!” Arlette didn’t doubt it.
At 11.00 precisely Arlette entered the control centre to talk to the thirty-five crew members with an ‘Armenian connection’. Julia and Chang sat below her as she positioned her body couch in the centre of the chamber, slightly above the rest, and the mission psychologists ranged themselves randomly within the audience.
“I have not had enough time to get to know each of you personally in the context of this mission,” she began, “and I apologise for addressing you in this rather formal way, but as Commander I have to asse
ss whether recent events in Armenia could have any disruptive effect on our mission. The political assessment group at ISEA HQ advises that there is a lot of history in the region that could lead to even more serious conflict, and while I have the greatest sympathy for all of you who might have family, friends and other interests in the area, I cannot allow a situation to exist where animosity between any of you could develop as a result of political conflict.”
There was silence.
“Teamwork and collaboration between all members of this crew at all times is an unquestionable prerequisite for participation in this mission. We are going to be together for the best part of a year and will find ourselves in situations, possibly stressful and dangerous situations, as yet unknown to mankind. I have to know from each one of you that I, and all the other members of this crew, have your complete loyalty and support regardless of any political event that might transpire. Is that clear and reasonable?”
A murmur of assent rumbled through the room.
“Does anyone have anything they want to say in public?” Arlette looked from one face to another. There was very little emotion that she could see, but then anyone with malicious intent would hide it, wouldn’t they?
“Very well. The mission psychologists will hold one-on-ones with each one of you, starting in half an hour. I hope you understand that this is a necessary precaution to protect all of us from situations which you yourselves may not realise could arise.”
Brief smiles flickered across the faces of Chang and Julia.
“I ask for your compassion,” said Arlette, “for your forbearance and your tact. But above all I demand professionalism and your unquestioning loyalty to the mission. If anyone wants to talk to me privately about this matter, just call.” She gestured with one finger towards her earphone. “This is a priority matter now.”
The meeting dissolved. Marcel met her at the door. “Propulsion section,” he said.
* * *
Just as they were about to enter the lift, Arlette held up her hand and pointed to her earphone. The CTT communication went on for several minutes, the device transmitting her thoughts directly to the other party, and theirs to her, soundlessly. Finally she nodded and turned to her colleagues. “General Lee has assigned a high-ranking international security expert to the mission,” she announced, “a Colonel Bertin. He’ll be here this afternoon.” Julia, Marcel and Chang brightened visibly.
While Gravity had been a rather personal experience, Propulsion was grand. The team was eight strong, led a by a booming Texan as tall as a tree. He was William ‘Genes’ Clayton, and he exuded genial command which Arlette found a touch patronising.
“Welcome, Commander, to the skunk works,” he said, proffering a huge hand which swallowed hers. “It’s ‘Genes’ with a ‘G’ rather than a ‘J’.”
Arlette had really not given it much thought, but now she had to ask why.
“On account of ma size, I s’pose,” drawled Genes. They got down to business.
The team was introduced: four women, three men, all brimming with enthusiasm to tell her in elaborate detail just how huge and powerful their baby was, how safe it was and how much it had in reserve when required.
After the virtual tour, which included a rather charming animated presentation of the physics of the anti-matter annihilation process and the malevolence of the exhaust particle stream, Arlette got into an intense cross-examination of the disaster scenarios and recovery procedures.
To her final question, the answer from a still-grinning Genes was, “Then we all get fried, Commander, finito.”
* * *
“The new security chief is here to see you,” said Chang with an air of weariness. “Impressive guy, almost certainly CIA.”
Arlette grimaced. ‘That’s all I need,’ she thought, ‘a helping hand from tactless, diplomatically naive Uncle Sam.’
As she entered the conference room a tall, militarily erect man in a colonel’s uniform was standing with his back to her, studying a projection of the ship’s power unit, his hands linked behind his back. He turned slowly towards her.
Arlette’s eyes widened as she recognised him. Surprise, outrage, betrayal, disgust and ultimately cynicism tore through her brain.
“I am Colonel Henri Bertin,” he said evenly. “I have been assigned to your command by Mission Control because of heightened concerns about security in the current political situation.”
7
The Paragon and her Context
Arlette looked him steadily in the eye, and he looked steadily back, coolly, but without arrogance. She walked halfway around him, as though she were inspecting a new recruit, turned and walked back.
“Well, Colonel Bertin,” she said at last, mouthing the words as if they were acidic, “I am very glad to see you.”
The words ‘bastard’, ‘manipulative’, ‘deceitful’, ‘betrayal’ and ‘humiliation’ ran through her mind as she processed the situation in her head. He had been a plant sent to observe her in Acapulco, to test what? Her loyalty, her discretion? He had seduced her for professional reasons – he probably had a handbook! She looked up at him sharply for a moment.
“Please define for me exactly your orders from Mission Control.”
“Yes, Commander,” said Henri. “My orders are to take responsibility for all security matters, to recruit and equip a security detail from the military contingent on board, monitor the entire crew with respect to potentially divisive or dangerous behaviour, interface data continuously with Mission Control and act to prevent or contain any incident that threatens the security of the mission, with deadly force if necessary.”
“Are you familiar with the personal records of the entire crew?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“And have you identified any high-risk individuals?”
“We have identified certain individuals who could be personally at risk because of their nationalities, ethnic backgrounds or careers, but we know of no individuals who have any terrorist backgrounds or inclinations – they would never have got past basic screening.” Henri paused. “However, political animosity and stress can trigger unexpected behaviour. A truly multinational crew like this is a great statement about the values of our civilisation, but it’s a security nightmare.”
“And what are your qualifications for this task, Colonel?” she asked, some needle in her voice.
“I believe I was selected because of my experience in handling similar situations. I speak Arabic and Mandarin as well as my native Haitian French and English, and I believe I have an appropriate military, intelligence and diplomatic record.”
He was in such perfect control of himself that Arlette wanted to slap him to see if he would flinch, but she just nodded.
“And could you please define for me your mission objectives at the time we met in Acapulco?”
He took a deep breath and started to speak, but Arlette cut him off. She really did not want to hear it. She raised a hand. “Another time, perhaps,” she said. “I need a coffee. Report to my office in thirty minutes and we will discuss your mission in detail.”
“Thank you, Commander Piccard,” said Henri.
* * *
Arlette Augustine Piccard was born in Lavaur, near Toulouse, France in May 2078. Her parents were both scientists at the nearby European Space Centre, her father a descendent of the early twentieth-century Belgian–Swiss physicist, balloonist and submariner, Auguste Piccard.
Arlette was an extremely precocious child, strong-willed and fearless; she would take on anyone regardless of age, sex or size and would never give up on anything she set out to do. Her intellect was apparent at an early age, and she was an infant prodigy of a pianist, a soloist with the Toulouse National Capitol orchestra at the age of six. She was an only child, a fact celebrated by her mother, who loved to say that there could never have been room for two like her. She was a frequent visitor to the nearby European Space Centre from an early age, curious about every aspect of space exploration.
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When asked at age seven what she was going to do when she grew up, she said simply. “I am going to the stars,” and she never doubted that she was.
At high school Arlette developed into a superb athlete and a straight-A student. Her ability to focus was legendary, and only marginally short of obsessive. She was either idolised or hated by both boys and girls, but she took it all in her stride philosophically, if not always graciously. One term-end report pointedly commented that ‘Arlette would do well to listen to others as well as herself at times.’ However, her leadership abilities were obvious and she was capable of turning a rabble into an effective team to achieve just about anything that she set her mind to.
She took English and Mandarin, as did the majority of her fellow students, along with her maths and physics, and her choice of Beijing University as an undergraduate school came as no surprise. “They are leaders in space technology and accelerating away from the rest,” she said simply. Then she moved to Michigan to do her PhD on the physics of multiple universes and to California for post doc in near-light-speed transportation dynamics, obtaining her pilot’s licence in her spare time. But academic life frustrated her after a while and she longed to ‘get out there and do it, not just talk about it’.
At twenty-six years old she had the world at her feet. She was an attractive woman, tall, slender and elegant with a faultless, athletic figure, long, lustrous dark hair, a very straight, delicate nose and coal-black eyes. Her olive skin seemed to be almost permanently tanned. She had a patrician air about her and easily commanded attention at any professional gathering, speaking with authority or not at all. She enjoyed the company of men far more than women, periodically engaging in physically intense affairs which often dissolved into natural intellectual friendships when the passion had burned itself out. She was utterly unsentimental and could never recall ever having actually been in love. Rather she judged men on their ability to entertain her with whatever combination of charm, wit, social skills, intellect or physicality they possessed, and she loved to be told stories. She was, however, brutally short with those that did not measure up to her expectations.
Omnipotence: Book I: Odyssey Page 4