THE CUBE

by Alex Gore

  “People, let’s first go and have lunch and then we’ll enter the ship”. Norman turned back and beckoned for them to follow him back to the base. “I know you can’t wait to examine it on the inside, but we still have a bit more work to prepare the entering. Besides, we are waiting for a final confirmation from Washington.”

  “You mean you have no idea what’s inside?”, Hans asked.

  “No, like I said, we were waiting for you”, Norman replied.

  “Oh, I’m definitely coming inside you, baby”, Alan said with a smile and slapped the metal body as if it were the backside of a plump girl.

  The sun was scorching and they had not eaten since early morning.

  The journey towards the unknown could be postponed until after lunch.

  The base, day 3, 4 p.m. The room was smaller than the previous one but but just as well equipped. There were only a dozen seats, enough for the group.

  They were in the central and largest dome of the base, which included also the main dormitories for the military staff. The rest were distributed in groups among the smaller domes. The Russians – in the one on the right to the central dome, Michael and Alan – right next to them. Marcela was in a separate dome in the left side of the base, where the medico-biological laboratory was situated. Next to it were the storage-rooms for munitions. Hans occupied the last smallest dome on the other side of the storage-rooms.

  “Gentlemen… and ladies”, Norman nodded to Marcela, “we are starting this afternoon. The entry manhole on the upper side of the corps is cleared of the sand and accessible.

  “Has really no one been inside?”, Alan asked, determined not to submit the first discovery to anybody.

  “No, I told you already, we’ve been waiting for you”, Norman replied.

  “What do the scanners show?”, Sergey wanted to know.

  “Ordinary medium for a submarine, even though the model is unknown to us. We do not detect any movement or life forms. The exceptionally high values of carbon-containing stuff is what makes it remarkable.”

  “I am not sure I want to go in there”. Michael had lost a bit of his good humor and was getting nervous now.

  Sergey was speaking something in Ivanov’s ear, making involuntary gestures. Ivanov obviously disagreed and was shaking his head negatively. The young physicist was insistent, his face showed that he would like to shout while he was whispering to his boss. Ivanov slightly waived his hand and Sergey stood up.

  “Allow me to speak, Sir.”

  Norman nodded in agreement, not less amazed than the rest of the group. Sergey went to the multi-media and inserted a miniature memory stick in the computer.

  He started hanging the slides while the rest were gazing in wonder at the blue screen.

  “Like I said, the submarine is ours, Russian. Class ‘Shark’, which according to American classification means “Typhoon”. A crew of 200, length 300 yards…”

  “Excuse me, Radlichenko, these are not manufactured now, Michael interrupted in a very serious manner.

  “Well, yes, precisely… The most modern submarines today have characteristics well below these of ‘Ivanushka’, as they call him in Severodvinsk. There are no such models nowadays, but we started the project in 2015 and in the beginning of 2018 three units of this class are expected to be in the sea, complete and available to the navy commanders. Unfortunately, I have to admit that for financial reasons there is a certain delay… I guess they will be ready and on water by the beginning of 2019.”

  “Ivan Semionovich, we have to talk! now!” Norman addressed the Colonel. For the first time he seemed enraged, obviously not liking surprises. Restraining his anger with an effort, he tried to keep the civil tone. “Why wasn’t I provided with this information earlier?”

  Ivanov stood up and both of them took their conversation outside.

  “Wait, do you mean that this is a nuclear submarine, manufactured in 2019?” Michael asked.

  “It was planned for 2018 but in case of delay… yes, in 2019 I think… err… yes…”Sergey replied. Then he inhaled deeply and went on, clearly needing to go to the end. “The deadliest submarine today is the Russian ‘Shark’, carrying intercontinental ballistic missiles with a range of action of about 1000 miles, each equipped with ten nuclear heads, 1400 times more powerful than the bomb, dropped on Hiroshima. One submarine is capable of destroying with its missiles life on half the globe.”

  “Impossible!”, Marcela exclaimed.

  Just then Norman and Ivanov retuned to the room and Ivanov interfered:

  “It is quite possible and even probable. In case of nuclear strike from the enemy the Russian people would avail of those submarines that actually saved the world from a nuclear war. They are designed to protect the Russian people and to ensure freedom and peace on Earth.”

  “I just couldn’t figure, after you kill all the multicellular organisms on the planet, what will amoebas do with peace”, Marcela snapped indignantly.

  “Your pacifist slogans cannot oppose a single nuclear strike. We have an obligation to protect ourselves. Besides, the class ‘Typhoon’ submarines are recognized as world peace-makers, because during the Cold war finally nobody pressed the button just because of the existence of such machines for mass destruction. We all knew that even if in a possible war the entire enemy state was destroyed with all its land facilities and human potential, only one such submarine, surviving under water, could annihilate on its part the entire planet in counterattack.”

  “Blah-blah-blah”. Marcela could not resign to what was said but mumbled this in a hushed voice. She did not want this giant to hear her.

  “Thank you, comrade Ivanov”, Norman spoke with irony, interrupting the ideological argument. “However, at this moment we have rather more important tasks than international comparative analysis of nuclear underwater force. Please, Sergey, go on.”

  The young scientist with disheveled hair fixed his glasses, brushed his curls from his forehead and continued:

  “The Higher Council of Russian Navy adopted a decision to improve these characteristics and create ‘the submarine of all seas and of all time’. Thus, the project ‘Kovaliov’ was started. The biggest submarine in the world is Project 941 class ‘Shark’ (American classification ‘Typhoon’). The project is ours entirely and it is manufactured in Severodvinsk. The dimensions of the submarine are truly gigantic: 900 feet long, 760 feet wide, displacement of 78 000 tons. If we compare the submarine to a football field the picture will look like this.”

  They saw on the screen the draft of a metal corps overlaid on a standard football field. The submarine was twice longer.

  “Imagine a ship twice as long as Camp Nou, for example”, Sergey offered. “The crew consists of approximately 200 people. It can remain under water and move autonomously for 250 days even if a nuclear war is raging on the surface. The maximum depth of submerging is 30 000 feet. But, like I said, this super machine will be manufactured only after one year.”

  A class ‘Typhoon’ submarine, year of manufacture 2019, day 3, 7:34 p. m. “Isn’t it better to wait till morning, Sir?” the lieutenant asked hesitantly. The protective suit was much too big for his short figure and made the otherwise serious man look comic.

  “No, let’s enter the damn thing, so this would faster be over. Whatever is inside can’t be scarier than this anxiousness before the unknown… Uncover it, Lieutenant, this is an order!” Norman commanded.

  “Hans, you look like a matryoshka doll”, Sergey said, his voice sounding like that of Darth Vader through the gas mask. It was true, the professor resembled a waddling musical doll, that is not sure on which side to fall.

  “March, even this waterproof cloak looks good on you”, Michael said, enjoying his own voice, coming through the filter of the mask.

  “Thank you, Mikey, but I believe Alan is the sexiest one under his canvas”, she laughed, pointing towards the former military guy, who really moved rather freely with the uncomfortable green plastic cloak.

&nb
sp; “It makes you really beautiful, Hans, because your face is not seen”, Alan remarked.

  “Mind your own business”, the professor replied nervously. “The body is nothing but a transitive form of mind.”

  “Please, stop it”, Norman urged them. “Lieutenant, begin now!”

  The baby-faced lieutenant was crouching over the manhole, holding with his hands the enormous screw. The rest were crowded around him, standing on the broad back of the steel monster. They were right behind the tower of the submarine at the entrance opening. It was not more than three feet wide, covered with a screwing lock.

  Their glances were focused on the lieutenant’s fine hands, anxious as if he were a magician and a dove would fly out of his sleeve any second.

  Babyface started unscrewing the lock and savage screeching sound was heard. It was as if nobody had opened it for a really long time. Unscrewing the lock all the way, the lieutenant opened the manhole. Stale air came out at them from within. They looked around, as if expecting little green men attacking them with weapons. Or, in a better version, welcoming them with music.

  The Major put his legs in the narrow passage and was the first to go inside. The cold darkness of the metal monster engulfed him. Alan hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath and sunk inside, following him. Soon the steel belly swallowed all of them one after the other, the last one remaining outside being Michael. He looked around, raised his eyes for the last time towards the clear sky, studded with stars, inhaled deeply and went down.

  “Theory of Subjective Numbers” by Professor McDowell A scientific report on “Irrational Numbers” presented to the academic council of Edinburgh University in May 2013. The thesis was not prized, on the contrary, its author was stripped off his title and expelled from Edinburgh University.

  The scientific community condemned him as a ‘scientific populist’, ‘cheap charlatan’ and ‘shame for the profession’. Professor McDowell was severely lashed by the European Academy of Science and the Scottish Scientific Society and excluded as their fellow member without the right to an answer.

  “Science & Co.” magazine, contrary to scientific dogma proclaimed his theory ‘the discovery of the century’ and called the author a man ‘of the order of Einstein’ and ‘at least Magellan of physics’. The argument has continued till the present day without any prominent result.

  In 2014 Lord Dunwell, known in scientific circles for his nonstandard views and an irrational approach, proclaimed him as ‘the only bright light in scientific darkness for the last hundred years’.

  An extract from “Theory of Subjective Numbers”, 2013

  2+2 = 4,00000000000000000000000000000000000000 00000………….1

  2+2 = 3,99999999999999999999999999999999999999 999999999999(9) God created man to make small steps and to look down at his feet. The first step is the hardest, the second is a bit easier and so on, forward along the path of truth. When man made enough steps towards God and raised his eyes up towards the night sky, seeing the light of the billions and billions of stars there, he knew that the more steps he takes, the nearer he comes to God.

  Then God’s image, suffused with light, appeared to him and man realized that even though his steps were getting easier and more numerous, he would never reach God and be equal to Him.

  “Alan, stop it!” Michael shouted.

  “Sorry, people, but this is amazing…” Alan could already see himself in his new show. He pushed the others and stood at the head of the line of people, who were moving along the long and narrow passage of the fat metal torso. Their flashlights were throwing light on the grey metal appliances, covered with dust. While on the outside the submarine looked as if it had just got out of the sea, the interior seemed to not have been touched by nobody for years.

  “Wow, it’s quite big inside!” Michael exclaimed.

  “This is the most modern submarine in the world. There are even running tracks like in your neighborhood gym… Over there, look…” Ivanov said, not trying to conceal his pride of Russian military technology.

  “I never imagined it could be so large inside. What I’ve seen on TV were dark and grim narrow spaces with no room for two people to pass each other.”

  “You’ve seen too many films, kid. Submarines there are mostly from the time of World War Two, that are quite different from this masterpiece of technology.

  “Wow, it is like a real spaceship in here...”

  “That’s right, contemporary submarines are in no way different from a large ship or from modern airplanes. The crew avails of sunbeds, a gym, a small swimming pool, even a sauna. You can stay underwater without ever going to the surface for more than eight months.”

  “But how is it possible?”, Marcela, who was walking right behind them, asked. “Won’t air get exhausted?”

  “No, the crew of this baby can produce electrical energy and even oxygen for breathing. As I said, they are surfacing every few months only to stock food supplies.”

  “But how can you produce oxygen under water?” Michael wondered.

  “Don’t forget that underwater there is mostly… water”, Sergey said, who stopped and waited for them in order to take part in the conversation. “And water, as we all know, is composed of oxygen and hydrogen.”

  “Electrolysis of water to oxygen and hydrogen – and there you are, you’ve got energy for sailing and air for breathing. Moreover, in practically unlimited quantities”, Ivanov said walking on.

  They reached the bridge, where the control room was situated

  – the heart of the ship. Michael decided to try one of the two periscopes. He struggled to open the handles and look inside, but without any success.

  “Alan, have you any idea where the power switch is, if this gadget here still works?” Norman turned to the Russians. “Colonel Ivanov, how do you operate this? We need to find their archive.”

  Before they could stop him, Alan pressed a couple of buttons and the lights over the main switchboard went on. Marcela timidly touched the metal of the control panel in front the monitors of the computers. Curiosity won, she bended over the keyboard and scratched it with a nail.

  “This here explains the excess of carbon in the spectral analysis.”

  “What do you mean?”, Norman asked.

  “Well, every part in the interior of the submarine is covered with graphene. It is pure carbon.”

  “Graphene?” Michael asked and touched the column before him. It felt smooth and soft as velvet.

  “It is really not a common knowledge”, Marcela replied, “that graphene is the strongest and lightest material ever produced. It is stronger than diamond even, unique for its being 300 times more solid than steel and at the same time more flexible than the most yielding rubber. Colonel, may I ask you to break this here?”

  Ivanov took out his gun and removed the cartridge-clip.

  He then hit with all his force the fine appliance with the massive metal butt. The keys on the keyboard, the buttons and the working screens remained intact.

  Marcela looked at the group and went on:

  “It consists of a single layer of carbon atoms and could be given any shape. The material of the future, that’s how it is called by us, chemists. It is so thin, that a sheet with weight of 28 grams can cover an area as big as 28 football fields. The problem is that its production is highly unprofitable. Actually, it is quite cheap, but technologically…”

  “Obviously the Russians have found a way to introduce it in the mass production of ships… from the future”, Alan interrupted her.

  “Our problems”, Sergey started to reply, “boiled down to finding a way to separate a monomolecular layer, preserving at the same time the purity of the atom lattice. We needed only six atoms of carbon in its structure. With five or seven atoms in the lattice irregularities in the surface appeared. But if we could isolate a five-atom cell of pure graphene, that was the ideal material of the future.“

  “I can see everything here is made of this graphene of yours. No wonde
r then that the values of carbon were so high.” Norman was closely inspecting the control panel.

  “Do you mean that the ‘live analysis’ of the ship is due to this covering layer?” Michael asked.

  “In a certain way this material can be integrated in biological systems like an implant in the human body for example”, Marcela answered.

  “So, this thing can also be alive, can’t it?” Norman interfered. “I don’t like it one bit. We must discover the black box as soon as possible and find out what happened to this ship.”

  “I just don’t know where exactly the black box stands with the Russians.”

  “Alan, please, this is dangerous! Ivanov, will you cooperate?”

  “Norman wanted the records from the archive. This is the most important issue for the moment.”

  Ivanov just glanced at his compatriot, then lifted the metal bar from the floor and reluctantly started for the wall. He leaned and hit its lower part with force. A small hidden compartment was opened, containing a small orange cylinder.

  “I’ve always known they are neither black, nor boxes”, Michael noted.

  “It seems the batteries have enough charge and they are working”, Norman pointed out, after taking in his hands the ‘black box’, given to him by the Colonel.

  “I can’t wait to understand what’s in the recordings”, Hans said, who had by now just watched from aside, deep in thought.

  “I suggest we take a look at the back, Sir”, Alan suggested.

  Ivanov remained at the bridge and Norman, being careful ordered the lieutenant to stay back and keep an eye on him. The rest of the group started towards the rear part of the submarine, where the engine room, the sailors’ cabins and the nuclear reactor had to be situated.

  Norman was leading, followed by Alan and Sergey. Marcela and Hans were the last in the column.

  “There is nothing in the fucking submarine”, said Alan, sounding terribly disappointed.

  In the engine room nothing seemed to be touched. The four diesel engines looked brand new.