“What have we done?” whispered, Ellen first.
“Huh?” returned Jacob. “It is your chair! What? Don’t you approve?”
“It’s unbelievably beautiful,” she whispered, and reached to touch its smooth surface. But—”
“We should never have built this device,” declared Eli next. “We need to destroy it . . . it and all evidence and documentation linked to it.”
“Destroy what!” Jacob recoiled.
Zen exhaled. He carefully removed the device, treating it now nearly sacrosanct. “Jacob. Your EMR device is beyond anything we could have imagined,” he said consolingly. “We are all just a little stunned.” He shook his head and chuckled.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Eli added.
Zen hushed him with a cautious hand. “Let’s not be hasty.”
Gracie remained silent, which was very odd for her, but like Ellen, she found herself strangely drawn to the golden-shaped splendor; this haunting shimmer which seemed to beckon her: Come and touch my smooth surface . . . caress my lustrous face. “What,”—she stammered—“what is the value of something like this?”
“Millions,” replied Eli, giving her an overzealous glare. “Zen,” he continued. “If this technology was ever divulged; if it ever got away from us, as before,” he admonished, “it would be more devastating than anything which was previously seized—far worse than the very knowledge we’re trying to annul. We justify using this EMR technology in order to build HOPE? Is this not a deadly paradox? This squelching a flame with an inferno?”
“It is.” Zen breathed long, and set the equipment carefully down. “It is a paradox. And therefore cannot easily be resolved.” He glanced down at the motionless device. How odd, he mused. A device of such power, now so still, so benign. “It is a dangerous paradox.” His gaze met Eli’s, and then swept the others in a silent barrage. “But without it, Eli,” he countered, “the flame of which you refer—the one we foolishly lit—will most certainly become the conflagration that consumes this planet. Can we take that risk?”
For a time silence was all that replied, as each one of them struggled in their mental debate.
“No,” spoke Gracie finally, lifting her hand from the chair’s surface. “I’ve watched all of you, as one who has observed from the outside. I have seen what this pending regret has done. It has festered like a cancer, and will continue to plague your conscience until you have all become mere entities, consuming air but not living. You will watch as those political magnates use your creations, your technologies in ever more deviant ways until our world—our only home—is destroyed. You cannot fail in this task. HOPE is worth all costs. “
“And if the EMR technology is also compromised? What then?” whispered Eli.
“That will not happen. All of you carry the scar of your mistake, as if burned across the flesh of your faces.” Gracie paused and shook her head desperately. “No. You will not be burned again!”
“She is right,” Ruthanne interjected from a forgotten corner.
Her inability to see what had taken place allowed an unbiased, and unique, reckoning. Hers was an assessment of logic and heart. “HOPE must be built. There is no other way. I agree with Gracie. It is worth all risk.”
Eli sighed a conceded defeat.
Jacob—still somewhat stunned by his colleague’s debate—finally spoke up. “We can engineer an absolute solution. One which is impervious and concrete. With Ellen’s help, I can design the EMR to be biologically aware of those who would use her. Remember, this device doesn’t only turn itself on and off, it can literally transform its mass into other elements. We can do this, Eli. This technology will never leave the HOPE complex. Never!”
“I pray you are right, Jacob,” Eli spoke, raising a conquered head.
He gazed around at the hopeful faces of his colleagues, and smiled. “Alright then,” he said with an abrupt nod. “Let’s get this EMR . . . thingy attached to the drones. We have a complex to build.”
Zen nodded confidently back at him.
Gracie hugged them both.
They all gathered around the EMR device with renewed enthusiasm and excitement. It was time to start building HOPE.
Chapter 12:
Jacob was true to his word, and with Ellen’s help—she was their biogenetics expert—spent another year procuring the EMR’s zero-tolerant failsafe features, which were then assimilated within each replicated EMR attachment. The next step—the first of Jacob’s robot construction workers—came relatively fast once the EMR had produced the necessary components. From these, both Jacob and Eli had fashioned some interesting prototypes. The robot workers had to meet Gracie’s stamp of approval, of course, which many did not, mostly because the alloy machines looked either too human, or too scary, as she had put it. These were, after all, to be drones: preprogrammed for specific tasks, impersonal and unintelligent—nothing like what the boy had envisioned for his next generation of android machines.
Jacob’s expanding brilliance had taken him decades beyond the standard in artificial intelligence. It was old science, as he had called it . . . shrouded in barriers and limitations which they will never be able to resolve. But he could . . . and had. And he was just getting started. Now, the boy’s aggressive thinking had catapulted him to the next tier: a generation of androids with humanistic features, far exceeding the abilities and intelligence of the worker-drones. But first he had to overcome his biggest hurdle: convincing the rest of the team to let him build a prototype.
There were the unbreakables. Cardinal rules as they were called. Which—having been established in the beginning by the Five as a safeguard against high-risk, unnecessary innovations—required the team’s full unanimity before any amendments could be made. One of these rules—number 14, section B—addressed the subject of unauthorized technology, and the prohibiting of it. Only that which was deemed necessary in the creation of HOPE was permissible, and only after careful scrutiny from the each of the rest of the team. The group would not risk a second tragedy, their haunt from the past.
Jacob would have to be patient with his request for intelligent androids, a characteristic the boy had a strong intolerance towards. These would have to come later . . . after the construction drones had proved safe and successful.
Eventually, a satisfactory drone-model was selected and a replication process initiated. Each drone was equipped with EMRs and programmed for specific responsibilities which corresponded to the type of elements their devices had been preset to produce. When the drone prototypes were completed, tested and ready to be put into action, their engineering and construction abilities far exceeded anything even Jacob could have imagined.
Gracie had designed some of the most incredible architecture ever conceived via a high powered EMR interface peripheral. Her best schematic images were uploaded directly to the drone’s memory banks. Seemingly overnight, these mechanical wonders began a transformation of the dark hollows of the underground salt vaults into a literal city of development and automation, rivaling anything of equal construction ever built on the planet.
It took several years to smooth out the wrinkles—there were many—but in time, the underground unfolded like a dazzling tapestry. As each group of drones tuned and perfected their specific tasks, they were able to replicate and apply their material in a near faultless process. The results were beyond words, and the HOPE hive took root and blossomed.
During this time of accomplishment and resolve, each of the Five came into their own as their individual talents and abilities solidified. Eli and Jacob enhanced the drone’s working hardware tenfold, making the robot’s onboard EMR technology even more unique and powerful. Ruthanne became the group’s software virtuoso. Her algorithms—in combination with the EMR protocols—escalated the team of mechanical drone workers to heights previously unimaginable. Ellen created DNA and bio-sensory safe-guards for all sensitive equipment and their storage locations. She successfully tested and procured advanced self-eliminating prac
tices to be used in the event of any unauthorized entry or equipment usage within the underground. And Zen and Gracie? Well, in addition to their leadership, guidance and emissaries to the world above, they announced a creation of their own . . . one to rival that which even Jacob could construct.
A baby boy—little Jimmy Reitman—was born late in August, and instantly became the new crown jewel of the Reitman family . . . and of the rest of the team. With this new addition, Gracie’s plans for her Sandcastle gained renewed precedence. The focal pendulum soon shifted toward phase-two: her desert bastion above.
With the construction of the underground going well, (and finally on schedule) it was time for the Reitmans to come out of their hole and into society. But like the delicate emergence of the timid animal from its grotto sanctuary of safety to the world above ground, so too did the couple have to tread with great care. Unlike the secret underground, the structures topside would require some conventional construction, at least at first. For obvious reasons, there could be no robot drones above ground until the perimeter wall—a custom concrete bulwark, five meters in height and a meter thick—could provide absolute security and concealment. Once the enclosure was secured, the drones could safely work undisclosed during the night hours. They would build Sandcastle’s outer frames and basic structures in mere days. The interior walls, plumbing, wiring and other finishing-work, in weeks. But the final frosting on the cake, the polished shine of the veneer, would take much longer. The drones, albeit the most miraculous building machines of their time, had no talent for Gracie’s meticulous details—her custom designs, extravagant materials and a plethora of unique amenities—would require a woman’s touch. And a small fortune.
The time for the golden goose had come. And the very spot to lay her eggs had already been purchased: the abandoned mine, old Falling Rock, located in the switchback canyons of the Oquirrh Mountains.
Zen and Gracie had purchased the property, along with all mineral and ore rights, soon after they had acquired the west desert lands back in 1951. They had been equally scoffed and ridiculed for such a foolish investment—the mine having been long since derelict and abandoned even then. But now, years later, old Falling Rock Mine was about to shake the dirt from her shoes and put on a new coat of polish—it was time to fill her shafts with gold.
—
When the selected night finally came—a moonless, quiet July evening—and the U-Haul moving-truck had been rented, the group loaded their gear into the back compartment and exited the north gate of the Reitman property just after midnight. Zen opted to drive the awkward rig, with Jacob drawing out as his over-enthusiastic passenger. In the back—sitting nervously alongside two large mechanical drones strapped down like nitro in an earthquake—was Eli, Ellen and Ruthanne. Gracie had happily opted to stay back at the complex and tend to her now number one priority: little Jimmy.
The truck headed southeast, bouncing along on graveled access roads and churning up enough dust to make its own sandstorm.
“Ouch! I thought Zen could drive this thing!” Eli shifted miserably in his seat. The equipment banged and rattled all around him as though it might break loose at any moment and come crashing down into pieces.
“Calm down,” snapped Ellen, “don’t be such a ba—ouch!” she suddenly gasped as another unexpected bump brought the seat up hard against her bottom. “What’s wrong with him! Hey!” she shouted, banging her fist against the cab.
“Temper, temper, sis,” Eli said, tauntingly.
Ellen snorted and shoved her hands back in her jacket pockets. “I feel like a piece of crate!”
Unlike Zen and Gracie, the rest of group rarely left the safety of the complex because of the risk. But when extreme excursions—such as the one they were on tonight—required them to venture outside property walls, they didn’t appreciate getting tumbled around like a batch of laundry.
“You don’t seem too put out,” eyed Ellen in an annoyed tone, her teeth still rattling in her mouth with every bump.
Ruthanne turned a surprised look on her. She smiled, then sat up just far enough for Ellen to spy a thick pillow placed underneath her behind.
“Hey! How did you—?”
“Jacob,” Ruthanne replied, grinning. “He calculated the bounce ratio in the suspension after loading his robots. He said the shock absorbers were ‘aged and nearly useless’. So I took precautions.”
“Nice,” Ellen growled. “I’ll have to thank him for being so insightful. I’m going to make the little twerp switch me places on the way back.”
Ruthanne shrugged and allowed her guiltless smile to widen . . . just a bit.
The truck drove for over an hour using as many back roads as possible. Finally, after receiving a full coating of dust and desert grime, it lurched off the main stretch with a grind of the gears, and moved onto a rural State road. The graveled single-lane stretch wound around for another thirty-minutes or so before leveling out due west. Soon, the dark outline of the Oquirrh Mountains loomed on the west horizon, and the road ahead became swallowed up in her base. After several more turns and squeaky hits of the brake, the vehicle’s headlights finally illuminated a withered pole topped with an aged sign which read: Falling Rock Mine. 2 Miles. An arrow clearly pointed the way up a winding dirt trail.
“That way,” said Jacob, pointing an annoying finger just inches from Zen’s face. It wasn’t the first time Zen had gotten the boy’s finger nearly up his nose.
“I can see that.” He pushed Jacob’s hand aside and leaned hard on the clutch. The gears ground and clanged as they searched for their niche. Finally, they rumbled in.
“Can’t find’um, grind’um,” Jacob snickered.
Zen turned a withered glare on him.
Jacob bit a lip, then sat back quietly in his seat . . . for about a minute.
Another grinding of gears caused goose bumps to race across his skin.
“Um . . . maybe I should drive,” he said.
Another glare.
“You can’t even reach the pedals.”
“It was just a suggestion, Zen. I still say we should have taken one of our own transports. They don’t have gears or pedals. I could have driven that just fine!”
“Yes. And without stealth? I wonder what kind of reception a hovercraft would encounter zooming along through the desert.”
“No one would see us,” Jacob mumbled.
“You do not know that. No unauthorized transport leave Sandcastle until you have procured the stealth shields. We’ve already had this conversation. Bringing those two drones along is more than enough risk for me.”
Jacob slouched over, folded his arms and scowled. “I only needed a few more weeks. I would have had the veneer covering adjusted to the proper radiation frequencies for stealth—four-to-seven-hundred angstroms. Then we could have traveled safely in my newest archetype.”
“You mean your Sandray.
“Yes. That’s my baby,” he said excitedly.
Zen blew the hair from his eyes. He shook his head and smiled at the kid. “And it will be truly wonderful, Jake. I have no doubt. But this trip can’t wait. We have this one window of opportunity and we can’t miss it.”
“Yeah,” Jacob snorted. “It sure would have been less bumpy though.”
Zen shifted down again, his teeth now grinding more than the gears. “I swear this thing was easier to drive when I picked it up this afternoon.”
“I just hope the gang is okay in back,” Jacob grated on. “I mean you seem to have hit every hole in the—”
“Can you just be silent for a few more minutes!”
“Fine!” He feigned a slight cough and reached up with a knuckled hand and banged loudly on the back wall.
Then listened.
A resounding bang! bang! bang! returned from the opposite side of the cab.
“It’s okay. They’re still alive.”
Zen groaned in exasperation. Are we there yet! he repeated to himself.
“. . . because we only have abo
ut five hours of darkness left,” Jacob prattled on. “We’ll need to be quick. I really don’t want to get tossed in the back with the others on the drive home if we’re caught in sun-up.”
Zen made a mental note to self. Jacob goes in the back! He cleared his throat of dust. “I don’t think we better risk it, Jake. You better plan on riding in the back with the others . . . just to be safe.”
“Aww,” he moaned.
The truck finally rounded a corner and rolled to a stop with a squeal of the brakes. The two passengers gazed ahead into the headlight’s beam. “There it is!” said Zen.
The rising road had leveled off in an open area between two large canyon walls. Clusters of oak and aspen pitched over above them from narrow outcroppings in a heavy, almost eerie canopy. At some point in time, several large boulders had fallen from upper cliffs and cascaded downward in a trail of broken rock and crushed shale which now littered a section of an old fragmented road. The small parcel of land, once a level foundation, was pockmarked by clumps of wild grass which pushed up and through large cracks in graveled pavement, concealing most of what was once a parking area. At the far end of the lot, two parallel streaks of old railroad ties arrowed toward the cliff’s face. The derelict track ran nearly thirty yards up a slight incline before ending abruptly at the base of several large cement blockades.
“Just as they said. The opening has been sealed to keep out trespassers. It’s no longer safe to enter.” Zen shut off the motor, but left the headlights on.
“That’s why we brought Hercules and Thor,” Jacob added, happily.
“You named them?”
“Well,” Jacob stammered, “just these two. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with them. I’ve modified their subroutines to adapt for working in these old shafts. We’ve gotten to be buddies, them and I. They should be very helpful,” he continued, confidently, “that is if the data we got from the Utah’s Bureau of Land Management is accurate.”
Of Salt and Sand Page 17