by P A Vasey
“That particular Vu-Hak was starting to figure out how to use the machine’s full abilities,” he said. “A little longer and we would have been in trouble.”
“Have they found machines with surviving AI?”
“I don’t believe so,” he replied thoughtfully. “I couldn’t sense any of my kind – artificial consciousnesses that is – in either of those two machines.”
“Well, how –?” I started.
“They are adapting to use the machines without the need for AI. I did not think it would take them very long.”
I looked aghast. “Do we know how many machines they possess?”
“At a guess, fewer than a hundred.”
“How many do we have?” Stillman chipped in.
“Four hundred and thirty-seven units.”
My eyes lit up. “Okay, well we outnumber them four to one, and we’ve got you and Adam, with full capability.”
Cain grimaced. “Kate, remember that the machines we possess are non-functional at present.”
But my mind was racing. “What about their singularities … the black holes in each of the Electromechs? Can’t we do something with them? Surely they can be weaponized?”
Cain pulled another face. “That is not possible. The singularities that are at the heart of these machines do not exist in our universe. They can never occur in nature because their production requires the precise tuning of an imploding gravitational wave. Vu-Hak science achieved this tuning by manipulating the laws of quantum gravity. I do not have access to these calculations. The technology is – at the moment at least – beyond even my abilities.”
I got up out of the chair and started pacing. “We’ve got the transfer technology to put human minds into the Electromechs. You’ve proved it with me. We just need volunteers! What about you, Matt, or you, Colleen? Surely saving the planet is worth it? Saving humanity?”
I was aware I sounded unhinged and desperate, but our backs were well and truly against the wall. Cain gave a sideways glance to Stillman, who picked up her glass again and swilled the liquid around silently.
“What?” I said.
“There’s a problem,” she said. “With you.”
“What are you talking about? I’m fine. Look …”
But as if on cue, a wave of dizziness came over me. I put out a hand to steady myself and noted that my seat had anticipated my action and raised an armrest to the level of my waist. I rested a hand on it and took a step forward, but my legs felt like lead. Both Cain and Stillman were suddenly next to me, easing me back into my seat. My vision blurred and a smattering of red icons appeared along the bottom of my HUD.
“You need to rest, Kate,” he said kindly.
I waved him off. “We’ve got to try and save the planet, surely we’ve got …” My neck involuntarily gave a spasm and I rubbed at it with my hand. There were defects in the carapace, pieces of skin missing.
I wasn’t healing.
Cain placed his hand on my cheek. His smile was still kind, but the rest of his face was unreadable. I tried to reach out into his mind, but there was only static.
“The Vu-Hak –” he began.
“What about them?”
“They got into your mind. Past the defenses I had installed. I managed to flush them out, but … at a cost. The interface between your motor cortex and the machine is degrading. You can sense it, I know.”
He was right. I briefly drifted into unconsciousness and then back out again. The room was a blur and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts. Cain tapped me on the shoulder and it brought me back but after a second I was lost again. Keeping focus took all my concentration. The room, faces, even my thoughts were now in a sort of low resolution, like a bad quality movie or streaming a TV show with slow broadband.
“But you can fix me, right?” I mumbled.
Cain looked grim. “Kate, that’s not the only problem. I ran some tests while you were out. I have established that the human mind is not sufficiently complex to run the Vu-Hak software that is integral to the functioning of the Electromechs. Entropy is increasing.”
I tried to concentrate on what he was saying as the room spun in lazy circles. “Entropy?”
“The loss of energy available to do work. The second law of thermodynamics states that the total entropy of a system either increases or remains constant – it never decreases. Entropy is zero in a reversible process and it increases in an irreversible process.”
“You’re not making sense,” I said, not sure whether this was because of my condition or that I was just stupid.
“Kate, this is happening – and would have happened – irrespective of the Vu-Hak incursion into your mind. I did not anticipate this at the time we made the transfer of your consciousness. In my defense, I had few alternatives, however. None, really.”
“So what, am I just going to die in this tin can?”
Stillman came and sat down next to me. She took my hand in hers and squeezed. There was moisture in her eyes. “We’re going back to the moon. Cain says that Adam is upgrading the transfer technology as we speak. They’ll remove your consciousness from the Electromech before any permanent damage is done.”
I wondered where my consciousness was going to be transferred. I had visions of a brain in a box.
Cain sat back into his seat and activated the display. Red and blue lights flickered over his face. He turned to me with an apologetic kind of look. “Now you’ll understand why I can’t allow another human to interface with a machine unless the transfer technology is better …”
He paused and his head twitched to one side. “Wait …”
A blinking red light appeared on one of the screens and another holographic image shimmered into view. A 3D schematic of the Earth appeared with figures and symbols starting to pop up all over the land surfaces. I tried to push my mind into the ship’s, but nothing happened. I was blind to the telepathic connection I once had.
“What’s going on?” I said quietly.
Cain’s hands were dancing in the air as he activated additional holographic displays around the room. “The ship has detected radiation signatures on all continents.”
Stillman stood up, her mouth open. On one of the displays a pillar of fiery smoke and dust was boiling up, still being violently agitated at the bottom.
“Those are nuclear detonations.”
She was right.
From every flank of the Earth came the signs that the apocalypse was upon us. Mushroom clouds sprouted above city skylines, turning once green lands and vibrant cities into ash and charcoal. Clouds parted willingly, bowing to the power of the atom, as columns of irradiated dust billowed into the air.
I visualized the Vu-Hak watching in their Electromechs, immortal, untouchable by the nuclear devastation. Like the four horsemen, sitting astride their black stallions on a hill, watching the world burning and feeling the closest thing to happiness they could experience. Waiting to ravage the world for its raw material, rapacious users of energy that they once were, that they were becoming again.
Hamilton was on his feet, pacing. “We have to do something.”
My mind was numb as I watched the images. All I could think was that the era of humanity was over before it had really begun. The bottleneck Holland had spoken about, the point at which all species that developed weapons of mass destruction had to get past safely to become a truly interstellar civilization, was no longer a concern. An alien species had done it for us, using our own weapons.
“Are there enough bombs to destroy the Earth?” Hamilton said.
My voice was flat. Emotionless. Bereft of hope. “Fifteen thousand nuclear warheads are more than enough. Those who aren’t killed by the initial detonations will succumb to the nuclear winter as the atmosphere fills with smoke and radioactive debris.”
Stillman stomped over to Cain. “We’ve got this ship. It’s fucking big. An Ark. How many people can we get on it? Thousands, I’ll bet.”
&nbs
p; Cain shook his head. “There are a number of insurmountable problems with that suggestion.”
“Such as?” Stillman said angrily. “We all have family, you know. I’ve a father, two brothers –”
Cain cut her off. “You don’t understand the logistics involved. There have been studies analyzing the minimum number of individuals needed to successfully recolonize humankind after an extinction level event. Taking into account infant mortality, disease, the negative effects of interbreeding and adverse environmental issues, approximately twenty thousand people would be needed.”
Hamilton slapped the side of his chair. “That’s fine then! This ship is five miles long and it can reshape itself. Surely that number can be accommodated here?”
I saw the problem immediately. “It’s not just the people, it’s everything else. Food, water, air, enough for a long journey – and who knows for how long and to where. Cain can do the math if you want to calculate the sheer tonnage of support materials that would be needed every day of such a journey. It’s enormous. You’d need another two or three ships of equal size just for the support.”
Cain nodded. “There is also the problem of extended spaceflight. This ship would filter out much of the interstellar radiation but in the long term humans would be exposed to cumulative toxicity ultimately causing catastrophic damage to living tissues. Putting human consciousnesses into the Vu-Hak machines would be the only long-term solution.”
“And we only have four hundred of them …” muttered Hamilton.
“But that wouldn’t work either,” I said. “When we discard human bodies, we lose biological tissue, so there’s no procreation and therefore no more humans. Just four hundred non-reproducing robots.”
“We can save their DNA though, can’t we?” said Stillman. “And we’ve saved four hundred souls.”
I felt the burden on my shoulders like a wet cloak, cold and heavy. “Colleen, even if it were safe to put human minds into these machines, who would decide which four hundred to ‘save’? Are we qualified to play god?”
Then Cain threw more water on the flames. “There is also the likelihood that any large group of people would include some Vu-Hak. Even one alien infiltrator on board this ship would destroy everything. We cannot identify them all. The risk would be too great.”
We all went quiet, thinking furiously.
Then Cain raised a hand, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. “There is another way.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Cain had insisted we moved to the flight deck, citing concerns for the organic members of our party. Hubert had been transferred to some sort of med-lab, tucked in and connected to data recorders that would let us know of any significant change in his condition. We were all strapped into identical chairs facing a projected 3-D image of the world outside. The moon’s soft ivory light shimmered across the dark waters of the blue planet. I gazed spellbound into the void, a black tranquility married to a poetry of stars. The beauty of space contrasted with the abomination occurring on our home world. Flashes and mushroom clouds were easily visible, the atmosphere already dark and pestilent.
“Can’t we go faster?” I said, turning to Cain.
He shook his head and nodded at Stillman and Hamilton. “We cannot. Humans have tissue tolerances.”
I grimaced, feeling woozy and light-headed. Time was not on our side. While we traveled, the world was burning and I was dying.
“However, at our current acceleration and vector, we will achieve orbit around the moon in four hours and twenty minutes,” he said.
That was still pretty fast then. It had taken the Apollo missions four days to get there. I fixed Cain with a beady eye. “Well, plenty of time to tell us your plan.”
He nodded and swiveled his chair and our seats moved of their own accord to form a semicircle facing him. He steepled his fingers in a schoolmasterly kind of way and let his gaze drift above our heads. I wonder if he’d seen that sort of thing in a movie or on a TV show.
“Have you heard of embryonic stem cell research?” he said.
“Of course,” I huffed. “I’m a doctor.”
Hamilton coughed. “Maybe explain it to us then?”
Cain inclined his head. “Embryonic stem cells have the potential to differentiate into and ‘become’ any mature cell such as those making up your skin, gastro-intestinal tract, heart or nervous system. They are derived from an early stage pre-implantation embryo, called a blastocyst.”
“How early?” said Stillman.
“About four or five days after fertilization,” I replied.
Hamilton frowned. “I recall there being lots of ethical issues regarding these. Something to do with the killing of human beings?”
This was the argument that had split families and was still being debated.
“It’s true that isolating the cells destroys the blastocyst,” I said. “The ethical question is whether or not these embryos at the pre-implantation stage should be considered morally equivalent to embryos in the post-implantation stage.”
“You mean, equivalent to babies growing in the womb?” Hamilton said.
“Yes. Or even morally equivalent to fully formed and functioning adults. The question is usually framed in religious language.”
Cain raised his eyebrows. “How can a hundred and fifty cells in a petri dish be given the same status as a human child?”
I gave him a look. “As a new life form I would have thought you might’ve had a more balanced view of what may constitute life?”
Cain was about to reply when Stillman interrupted. “What’s the point of all this?”
I sighed. “Many childless couples undergo IVF – in vitro fertilization – which produces multiple embryos, not all of which are used to produce children. The surplus embryos are generally discarded or used for research. Their embryonic stem cells can provide medical breakthroughs in lots of conditions – diabetes, cancer and so on – and many facilities store them for future use …” I stopped and turned to Cain as the penny dropped. “Where would we find these embryos?”
“The United States is the leading country for stem cell research.”
“We’re not going back there,” snapped Stillman.
Cain gave an enigmatic smile. “The other countries heavily involved in stem cell research are Iran, South Korea, Australia and China. The largest storage facilities, the least guarded and also the least likely to be on the Vu-Hak radar would be in Australia. Queensland, to be exact.”
“And also the least likely to have been nuked,” I said.
“Wait,” said Hamilton, just catching up. “We’re going to steal embryos?”
“Matt, these embryos are discarded, unwanted, superfluous to demand. Just waiting for inclusion in research programs that will destroy them to produce their stem cells. We can use them to repopulate the species.”
Cain nodded. “The facility in Queensland is run by a company called AusStemGen. I have already programmed a course there as soon as we have finished on the moon.”
“How many embryos are there in the Australian facility?” asked Stillman.
Cain pursed his lips and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I have accessed the ASG database. There were some crude firewalls that were easy to break down. I have determined that there are approximately twenty-five thousand embryos in storage on site.”
“Do we need that many?” I said.
“No, two thousand would more than sufficient, and probably the most efficient use of resources. Some for development into viable humans, the rest would be used for cloning to maximize the numbers.”
“Cloning?” said Stillman, eyes narrowing.
“Cloning,” said Cain, deadpan.
“What, so we would repopulate the species with genetically identical copies of Australians?” she replied, eyes darting back and forward between Cain and me. “Isn’t that a bad idea? Like brothers and sisters having sex and producing children with genetic disorders?”
He shook his head firmly. “Not at al
l. Firstly the embryos at ASG are not all Australian. It is a storage facility, with embryos flown in from all over the world. The creation of genetically identical copies of human beings, provided there is enough diversity for subsequent inbreeding, will save humanity. Cloning technology is ‘old science’ to the Vu-Hak. I have access to all this data, as does Adam. The human species’ diversity will recover.”
The rabbit hole was opening up and I didn’t like where this was taking us. Cloning to me had always raised the specter of eugenics – the selective mating of people with specific hereditary traits in order to improve the human species. If cloning became possible, I’d foreseen a future of clones made from people who had excelled in sport or science or whatever pursuit society deemed most worthy, to the detriment of humanity as a whole. And there was also the idea of producing clones of yourself for your own benefit such as organ harvesting and re-transplantation when your own organs became diseased or damaged. The ethical minefield was wide and tricky to navigate.
And it didn’t end there …
“You want to go further, don’t you?” I said, slowly.
Cain turned to look at me and his gaze was intense. “We must.”
Stillman threw me a sharp look. “What’s he talking about?”
Cain’s turned his gaze on her. “It will be a simple matter to rewrite the genetic code, enhance neurotransmission and optimize the physiology and biochemistry to create a human species more suited to the future. Augmented, more robust, and more likely to survive the challenges ahead.”