by M. D. Hall
The predominant colour was green, which to the onlooker became grass of varying heights, some almost as short as the baize of a pool table, to represent putting greens. Close-cropped fairways appeared, with longer grass representing semi-rough, growing beyond that, to deep rough. As parts of the cloud adopted the appearance of translucence, the morning sun began coruscating on the surface of newly formed streams, engorging half filled ponds. Even stone walls and flagpoles were formed.
Despite the onlookers understanding that none of what they were witnessing was natural, no one watching could fail to be stunned by the sheer technical brilliance, and breathtaking beauty of what was unfolding before them.
Soon, the transformation was complete. To many who watched, the most eagerly anticipated part of the demonstration was hidden from view. Their program notes were deliberately shy on details, other than a participatory experiment. The ploy was calculated to heighten the sense of anticipation, and it was working.
Heads turned, and murmuring circulated through the invited gathering, as all eyes alighted on a copse of trees, to the side of a distant, newly formed putting green. Everyone guessed that what they longed to see was, tantalisingly, within those trees - where the two lone structures had stood - but everyone had to remain within the group, and be patient. Any attempt to break away, to be the first to glimpse what lay hidden from view, would result in instant expulsion from the demonstration.
Hugo extended his hand towards President Conway, signalling completion of the first demonstration. This was the President’s moment; he approached the dais positioned before a staggering array of television cameras. Smiling, his eyes swept the lenses and microphones that would relay his image and words to more than a third of the Earth's population. ‘I am sure you will all share, with me, the sense of wonder at all we have witnessed here, today. This demonstration was only, in part, for fun as it represents something far more significant for the poor and deprived of our planet, wherever they may be. Homes and sanitation for all, regardless of colour, race or creed. We can transform our habitats to suit our needs. As our circumstances change, the technology can adapt. I have no hesitation in recommending that we should all embrace this gift with open arms,’ cue tumultuous applause.
The response showed no sign of abating. Now smiling with genuine pleasure, he raised his left hand, the applause faded. ‘Already, TeCorp has provided us with marvels we did not think even our grandchildren would see: aerial transport that does not depend upon fossil fuels; a replenished ozone layer and de-carbonated seas, but I promise you are all in for a treat today.’
He inclined his head toward Hugo and said, only half jokingly. ‘I'm glad Hugo Black is not running for President.’ Once again, as soon as he had stopped speaking there was a rapturous response. He held out his right hand to Hugo, which, both men knew, was not just the hand of friendship but, more meaningfully, an invitation.
Hugo clasped the proffered hand without hesitation, and in so doing, announced his support for the incumbent President. While none of the cameras would pick it up, there was the merest trace of relief, and gratitude writ small upon the President's face.
In case any person watching might underestimate the gesture, Hugo embraced the other man. The wealthiest, most powerful man on Earth had just given his endorsement to the man who would, in a few months time, be re-elected President of the United States of America.
The formalities over, the two men turned their attention to the token golf course that lay before them. The best course designers, and the most assiduous care could not, over one hundred years, produce anything more stunning.
This whole demonstration had been chosen by Hugo because it was common knowledge the President was an avid, but by no means good golfer. Many of the domestic viewers wanted to see the leader of the free world doing the normal things they might do, whether golf qualified was questionable, but it would serve its purpose, whetting the spectators’ appetite for what was to follow.
Without further ado, Michael Conway walked over to the waiting tee box and looked down the immaculate fairway. Removing his jacket and tie, he handed them to an aide who, in return, gave him a driver. The President had already taken the liberty of wearing black training shoes in readiness - to the casual observer they were indistinguishable from dress shoes. Some unseen thoughtful person, no doubt a Secret Service agent, had already teed up a golf ball.
Before a worldwide television audience, he swung at the ball, then watched as it soared two thirds of the way down the fairway, before leaking right and crashing into a bush in the right-hand rough. Turning to the cameras he said, with a wink. ‘A pity the technology didn't extend to my swing!’ Then, with a wave, he strode up the fairway.
Hugo had previously decided it would be inappropriate to play against the President, this day was never about golf. Nevertheless, he stayed close to him, and when President Conway set off to find his ball, Hugo was by his side, leaving the camera crews to hurry after them. Everyone knew there was more to be seen by following the two men; they would not be denied, and certainly would not be disappointed.
Fortunately, the President’s wayward tee shot had ricocheted out into the light rough. From there he played the ball a short distance on to the fairway, followed by a short pitch, which landed in one of the green side bunkers.
If he had planned it, Hugo could not have wished for a more opportune moment to demonstrate both the restorative qualities of the landscape, as well as the flexibility of design.
Once the approach shot had been played, a presidential aide moved to pick up the divot, which had landed a short distance from where the ball had been struck. Hugo raised his hand, to halt the aide, before looking around to the cameramen, then turning his head in the direction of the scarred fairway. The cameras tracked his gaze and, before more than two billion pairs of eyes, two things happened: the divot dissolved until it was no more, while at the same time, the divot mark repaired itself. Within seconds, it was as though the damage had never occurred.
Without giving any of the observers a moment to recover, he pointed ahead. All eyes followed his finger and looked at the President's ball, nestled in the green-side bunker, filled with soft sand. The expectation of something spectacular was to be fulfilled. The hole that was the bunker swiftly transformed. The sand rose to the level of the surrounding ground, and then flattened to take on topography, identical to the adjacent green.
The yellow, granular sand metamorphosed into closely mown grass then, between it and the onlookers, another bunker formed itself. Within a minute they were looking at a golf ball sitting just inside the edge of the newly extended green.
‘Well,’ exclaimed the President, ‘it seems that that shot wasn't so bad, after all!’ He made his put and putter still in hand, walked over to the small copse. The fun part was over, and they were about to view the central object of the whole presentation.
The television cameras lingered on the trees as the press entourage made their way through the copse, to what lay within - the images would be analysed in minute detail by commentators throughout the world. It was generally understood that the trees, just like the golf course, were merely essays in the capability of the technology.
The moment arrived when President Conway and company, entered a clearing and faced the object of the exercise; a two story red-brick building complete with reflecting windows chosen, no doubt, to discourage prying eyes, and a large sliding door, big enough to permit at least six people to stand side by side. The doors slid open, and the President entered, followed closely by Hugo and the remainder of the retinue.
The first camera to enter the building captured the initial images of a large airy room filled with chairs, in orderly rows, all facing a lectern flanked on either side by several seats. The press corps understood, from the presentation literature, that their hands on experience would involve a more apposite part of their anatomy. They were to sit on these nano generated chairs, while being addressed by the President as to the applica
tions of the technology.
Everyone, save the Secret Service personnel, and the photographers, took their seats. Some lowered themselves gingerly, perhaps expecting the chairs to dissolve as though fashioned from mist. Of course, no such thing happened.
With everyone in place, the President addressed them more soberly than before, following a strict brief prepared by Tala. ‘Everything you can see and touch in this building has been fashioned from a new form of nanotechnology, I don’t pretend to understand,’ he allowed himself an ironic smile. ‘Built into each design is a failsafe meaning every item is permanent, until reprogrammed. The failsafe ensures that no change can be effected if there is any danger, whatever, to a human user.’
A voice chirped up from the seated crowd. ‘What about my cat?’
Laughter broke out among the assembled ranks of the press corps. The President stole a glance at Tala who smiled, and nodded.
‘I'm assured your cat will be safe,’ he replied.
Hugo could see the President was lapping it up. There could be no doubt that everyone who was glued to their TV screens would be reacting in just the same way as this group of hardened journalists.
Now that he, again, had their undivided attention, President Conway returned to the matter at hand. ‘I would like the front three rows to stand, and move to the sides of the room. Those of you sitting in the remaining six rows can remain seated.’
Before the front rows complied, he added. ‘The vacant seats will be reprogrammed to form…well, let’s wait and see.’
Those in the front rows stood up quickly, a little too quickly, Hugo thought, and while it would be putting it too strongly to say the remainder expressed alarm, there were some uneasy looks being exchanged. The President simply smiled, and when the entire standing group were well clear, nodded to Hugo, he in turn repeated the gesture to the technician who was holding a smaller, portable version of the control panel seen on the dais fifteen minutes earlier.
A wave of the technician’s hand over the small hand held device caused all of the vacated seats to metamorphose into machines, two machines to be precise. The space was, within no more than three minutes, taken up by a scaled down MRI scanner, and a dentist’s chair, complete with drills, lights and rinsing station. An appreciative murmur filtered through the crowd, but the President had not finished. ‘What you see before you are fully working machines, but what use are machines, if we can’t power them?’ The crowd remained expectant, they had no idea what was coming but it was something big. ‘I would like you to look at the wall to your right, please don’t be alarmed. Behold, water and power!’
The novelty of the chair transformation was quickly overtaken by what was now taking place. Everyone looked at the wall, and was transfixed by what unfolded before them. The entire wall melted away to reveal two boxes: the smaller no bigger than a fridge-freezer; the other, twice that size, standing side by side. Everyone understood these were the two objects standing alone on the barren, pre transformed landscape.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this,’ the President gestured to the larger box, ‘is a portable fusion reactor. The water to supply the reactor is provided within the unit, itself.’
What was previously a murmur of approval became much more vocal, with questions being thrown at the President from all sides and, despite his earlier reassurance, a ripple of concern, if not alarm, ran through the crowd. He remained smiling and held up his hand until the clamour died down. ‘I can assure you that there are inbuilt safeguards which make it completely safe and impossible, yes you heard right, impossible to either interfere with, or destabilise the reactor.’
He allowed not only the press corps, but also the televised audience to absorb the implications before adding. ‘This tiny unit can supply a town of over sixty-thousand. A city the size of Chicago would have its entire energy needs supplied by something no bigger than two railway carriages.’
The audience hardly had time to catch their breath when he added. ‘The other unit produces fresh water, and a unit, ten times this size can supply three city blocks…’
Another voice spoke up from the crowd. ‘What about the water on the golf course, where did it come from?’
‘That,’ the President replied, ‘looked like water and moved like water, but if you dipped your hand into it there would be no sensation of water, it wouldn't be cold and it wouldn't be wet; try it when you leave.’
Aware that the excitement demonstrated in this room would, at that very moment, be echoed by everyone fortunate enough to experience the televised relay, he explained the importance of what they had seen. ‘Freestanding units like these will ensure that no part of the world will remain without power, or water, and what is more, TeCorp have agreed that they will be made available to every nation at no more than the cost of production.
‘It isn’t just that new hospital buildings can be erected within a few hours, the equipment and power needed to run them will soon be easily available, anywhere,’ he looked at the two machines, which lit up. While the scanner did not start, for obvious reasons, water began to run from the spout of the rinsing station. The president pointed to the machines, then pointed at the units. ‘Like I said, easily available, anywhere.’
Knowing when to quit, he left the crowd clamouring for answers to a multitude of questions, all being asked at the same time. In less than a minute, no one remained of his personal entourage, or TeCorp. Soon enough, the invitees would be swarming around the building and over the golf course, showing their viewers the close ups they craved, while they strained to detect the joins, and if they failed, relying upon their trusted correspondents to tell it as it really was.
Three minutes later, in a flyer heading for the White House - Hugo and Liz would return to their office in the same flyer - the President and Hugo were sitting alone.
‘I don’t think that could have gone better,’ Michael Conway said.
Hugo simply nodded.
‘This, nano-technology, it’s tiny mechanical spiders, isn't it?’
‘Mr President,’ Hugo replied, ‘I think you’ve been watching too many science fiction movies,’ he smiled. ‘This technology doesn’t strictly use nanites. The size of our machines are a magnitude smaller, about the size of an angstrom,’ the President looked none the wiser.
‘They’re in a liquid form, and are referred to as The Fluid.’
‘Referred to by whom?’
‘By anyone who will use it, of course,’ Hugo answered, or rather, avoided answering.
The President hid his dissatisfaction. ‘You know our phones won't stop ringing now everyone has heard me say how available this technology is,’ for the first time he looked troubled. ‘I'm not used to promising things I've no control over.’
Hugo raised an eyebrow, quite a statement from a politician, he thought.
The irony of his last statement had not escaped the President, who smiled, ruefully. ‘What I'm asking, is whether TeCorp can deliver on my promise?’
‘Yes, Mr President,’ was Hugo’s simple response. ‘There will, of course, be economic repercussions that you and the other leaders must prepare for.’
‘We’ve already discussed the economic repercussions. In the short-term, the technology will only be introduced in remote areas, where current providers aren’t involved. That’s subject, of course, to the cost not being prohibitive,’ he was making an oblique reference to the money going to TeCorp.
Hugo did not bite. His corporation had agreed to provide what was needed at cost. He would not go lower. ‘Mr President, I’m happy to publish costings, in the interest of transparency, so the people of the world can be satisfied they’re getting value for money,’ that ended the discussion.
After a few moments the President reheated an old chestnut. ‘If any of this technology goes wrong, we need some independence. We can't keep coming back to you for repairs.’
Hugo was surprised his friend had waited so long before raising the issue again. ‘Mr President, as you know, in tim
e I will relinquish all our secrets,’ he smiled, ‘pressing me, isn't going to move things any faster.’
The other man returned the smile, before going over to sit with his chief of staff for the remainder of the short journey.
Hugo was joined by Liz, and the two of them exchanged knowing looks. Tala had insisted upon keeping the methodology of all technology secret, at least for the present. His initial attempts to elicit the rationale behind her decision proved a dismal failure. Eventually, he gave up trying, but their attitude suggested an unhealthy degree of control. The Te had expressed no desire to profit from the enterprise, so why withhold the knowledge of how it worked?
He closed his eyes, mentally replaying the happenings of that day, making sure to bury his misgivings.
Six months ago
In orbit around Te'ath
Ω
Gorn’s latest posting was to the destroyer, Meteor as second officer ‘tactical’. His commander, Gakar dealt with the matter of Gorn’s lineage without the need for finesse. ‘I know who your father is, and I’m not impressed. Being a son of Commander Bakir will cut you no slack on my ship. If you don’t meet my standards you’ll be lucky to find a berth on a supply vessel, are we clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
He had received an identical lecture on each of his previous two postings, but he worked no harder or longer, the words inspiring neither loyalty, nor commitment. The reason? He was already totally committed and loyal.
In very short order, Gakar realised he had a remarkable young officer under his command. Within six months of joining the ship, the two men had formed a close bond, and while it could not replace that of father and son, in the absence of any filial relationship, it would do.