The URANUS Code (Citadel World Book #1)

by Kir Lukovkin

  The Architect looked up, thinking about something. Rick waited for him to continue.

  “Because Thermopolis is an incredibly complex structure, access to some sections of it is very limited and you would have to have a very high level of intelligence and a certain degree of luck to get in here to talk to me. There can be no mistake. You did not get here by accident. This means, that you are the same as me. Not just in terms of your personal qualities, but also because of my means of control. One of them is the proles, complex human-like biological machines developed in secret from humanity and made for the observation and selection of the descendants of Archimedes Spanidis among the population of Thermopolis. The duty of the proles is not just to observe the candidates but also to note particular abilities in their behavior, as well as bringing the descendants here for a conversation. You might not be the first to come here. And perhaps, you won't be the last.”

  Rick tried to get his head around what was going on, but the information was so unexpected and disheartening that his head was spinning.

  “I am the descendant of one of the most ancient human civilizations,” the Architect continued. “My people laid down the main principles of intelligent thought and created a culture which was the foundation for the rest of humanity. I am proud of our mythology most of all. There is nothing more elegant than the myths of ancient gods that populate the ethereal heights. I firmly believe that man will one day be like the gods in his perfection. I might be mistaken, but life is made for taking risks. This is why the Uranus program does not just represent salvation—it is also my challenge to the skies. A letter means nothing by itself. It is an empty symbol, a useless sign. However, when letters are put together into an alphabet to make words, words can be made into sentences, poems and stories based on an enormous system of meanings—that is a language. And that is when every letter finds its true meaning, its own great power. Thermopolis is an alphabet, which will be the foundation for a new language of the gods. If you share my ideals and you agree with me, my descendant, then you should bravely continue executing the Uranus program and regret nothing.”

  The Architect vanished into thin air. Rick spent a long time staring unblinkingly at the empty screen, until a message appeared: “Continue executing the Uranus program. Yes—No?”

  He did not hurry this time around. He carefully read through his options which were described under the message in a small font. One of them was called “Tutorial”. Rick activated the section by tapping it with his finger. More options appeared: “Standard”, “Extended” and “Quick start”.

  He chose the “Quick start” option. The machine offered him to select a timescale from one to twelve hours. Rick chose the minimum time without hesitation.

  Another message appeared on the panel: “Relax and close your eyes. Please note: there may be negative side-effects”.

  There was nothing to lose anymore—he submitted to the will of the machine. The back of the chair smoothly adopted a horizontal position and the tentacles of the electrodes touched his temples and forehead. After this, his consciousness was torn away from reality and thrown into a series of rapid, image-filled visions that were accompanied by compressed masses of information. This was the same as the film about the history of the building of Thermopolis, but a hundred times faster. The knowledge of thousands of generations entered Rick's mind as a concentrated stream, dividing into modules inside: mathematics, logic, geometry, writing, physics, chemistry, biology, geography, geology, the most widespread languages that humanity spoke before the virus attacked, the foundations of poetry, philosophy and the humanities, engineering, information technology, cybernetics, psychology, general history...

  Formulae, invariables, conformities, dates, events, categories, paradoxes, pictures, diagrams, tables, blueprints, graphs, binary code, singularity, even horizon, synergy, quantum mechanics, dark matter and the periodic table...

  All of this was being layered, fitting tightly together inside his head, which began to spin and be in noticeable pain because of the amount of information, but more and more new packages of knowledge kept filling his consciousness like jar being filled to the brim. Soon, he became cold and feverish. His body was shaken by major tremors. His consciousness gradually slipped away, and new packages of information kept appearing before his mind's eye, but he could not perceive them or even learn them. Rick was in a semi-conscious state by the end of the session. His temperature rose, and Rick felt blood dripping from his nose and that his head was about to explode with pain. His burning mind could barely cope with the pressure.

  However, Rick could now use various clever words to describe this mental torture. He smiled through his tears and suddenly understood that it was all over. The back of the chair returned to a vertical position and the restraining belts disappeared. Rick opened his eyes and fell on the floor. As soon as he managed to get himself up on all fours, he vomited all over Egypt. Oh yes, Europe was on the map behind his back, so Asia must be on the left and Africa straight ahead. He wiped his mouth a spat the bitter taste out of his mouth. Yes, it seemed like he had got off lightly. He was lucky, he could still think and even move.

  Rick carefully rose, holding on to the armrest and stood around for a while, calming his breathing.

  Tommo was nearby, frozen in standby mode. Rick could not help shaking his head—this was all new knowledge. A prole was just an improved android. It was funny to understand such a simple fact. He wondered, how long would it take to explain this fact to Maya?

  Rick raised his head and looked at the constellations on the semi-sphere. Now he was armed with knowledge, he easily navigated the map of ancient symbols and understood what it meant.

  Only the last and most important thing remained—to make a decision.

  He climbed back into the chair and confidently opened the Thermopolis control interface. Now, his fingers swiftly flew over the keyboard, hitting exactly the buttons he needed. He activated the display of the particle accelerator sensor data—the bar was rising towards the eighty percent level. Acceptable. It would warm up to full power later.

  “Activate generators? Yes—No. Activation is synchronized.”

  “And now, my friend,” he addressed the prole, without taking his eyes off the screen, “comes the moment of truth.”

  Without looking, Rick put his hand under the seat and took a wireless communication set from the storage compartment. He put on a headphone, turned on the microphone and called the technical post of the accelerator. His fingers danced over the keyboard, making images from the Thermopolis observation cameras display on the screen one after another. First, he saw empty corridors, one of which contained a crawling and wounded-looking manlike creature, then there were a couple of flashes of impenetrable gray and it was only when he finally got the images from the Sigma and Tau sectors that he understood that the jungle was burning. Smoke billowed through the corridors and he could occasionally see rushing human figures. Another camera showed the picture of a massacre—bodies of workers and mutants strewn around the floor, surrounded by pools of blood. Then the picture switched to the observation platform and the sarcophagus of the particle accelerator, which was hidden from sight as it was boxed in by its armor. A man was sitting behind the table at the operator's post.

  “Rick Omicron calling Cornelius from Sigma and Tau,” Rick said loudly.

  The man shuddered and fell of the table onto the floor with a terrified scream. However, he immediately got up, glanced at the camera and ran into the darkness of the hall.

  Rick repeated his call loudly and clearly, but there was no reaction, so he continued to repeat himself until a group of people headed by Cornelius appeared in the picture. The burly man looked like he had been in a fight—his face was covered in fresh grazes, his arm bandaged with blood-covered rag and he was holding a massive wrench in the other.

  “Cornelius!” Rick called out. “It's me, the monkey from the upper levels!”

  “By the Red King!” he barked. “How di
d you get inside the machine?”

  “It's too long to explain, but I am alive and well!”

  “You haven't got the girl killed?”

  “She's fine!”

  “You're lucky, if anything happened to you, I would skin you alive! Is Tommo with you?”

  “He's here.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you defending the Reactor?”

  “Our strength is running out! Arcadius' dogs are blowing up the barricades and lots of other boys have died. But I won't let them take me alive!” he shouted, shaking his wrench.

  “Where's Ahmed?”

  “He's in the next room. He's armed, alive and well. He wants to fight for us.”

  Rick asked him to bring Ahmed so he could talk to him. Soon, a dark skinned engineer who had grown lean but seemed full of courage was happily speaking to him. After they exchanged their greetings, Rick gave a short explanation of the situation and told Ahmed what was required of him

  The engineer's eyes went wide with surprised and he exclaimed, “I don't recognize you! How do you know all of these things?”

  “Techno-magic.” Rick smiled. “Please, do what I told you.”

  He waited for Ahmed to go to the neighboring room and sit at the operator's control console, and switched his camera to the technical post.

  “Excellent.” Rick only thought for a moment and then continued, “Let's begin the launch of the Uranus program.”

  “Rick, wait! Do you even understand what you're doing?” Ahmed worried. “What if you are launching a machine that will bring about everyone's judgment day?”

  “It can't be worse than it is now! Are you with me, or not?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Leave your doubts behind, it's time to act. Confirm the launch of the generators.”

  They pressed the green buttons simultaneously, each on his own control panel. A light circular shape appeared on the screen, which started to fill with color and a dark message saying “Please wait”. The shape was growing into a circle incredibly slowly. Then, it disappeared to be replaced by a picture of four three dimensional rods, which started to get filled with a green color as if they were vessels. All of this was accompanied by a message: “Please wait: 1%... 2%... 5%... 18%...”. Another message appeared, this time stating “Generators turned on. Timescale for reaching design capacity—12 hours. Initiate next stage?” Rick confirmed the command. The machine asked: “Hermetically seal aeons? Yes—No.” Rick confirmed the selected action again. A cross section projection of Thermopolis appeared. The shapes of five aeons were outlined with thick lines, and an icon was displayed, showing the progress of the operation: “1%... 2%... 3%...”. The computer answered: “Aeon hermetization will take place in 6 hours”. The screen went dark and another message appeared: “Uranus program launch will be possible in 12 hours. Prepare the key to enter the last instruction. Activate by turning the key in the console simultaneously.”

  “A key?”

  Rick re-read the message several times. Then he asked for a help file. The machine showed him a diagram of the key—a cross-shaped item marked by the number eight on its side. The three dimensional model of the key was spinning in front of him. Rick entered a new query. The machine showed him the mechanism for inserting the key into the opening in the control panel. Rick examined the controls, but could not find the familiar slot on the panel. But he was sure that he had already seen the sort of edges, angles and incisions that would fit. He tried to think on it for a minute. And then he grabbed himself by the chest.

  The talisman!

  He almost tore his new shirt while he took out the talisman and took the chain off his neck. The size of the key ideally matched the slot displayed on the screen. However, he did leave the second part of the key in his room on the bedside table.

  “Rick? What's going on?” Ahmed asked.

  “Nothing. I found the program activation key,” he replied as he remembered his mothers only words about this.

  She always told him, “Take care of this talisman like it was your very soul, because your father always looked after it and carried it with him, and the talisman belonged to your grandfather before him, your great-grandfather and your previous ancestors, reaching back to the most ancient one of our forefathers.”. “Why?” asked little Rick. “Because this talisman is our future,” his mother told him, but never explained what that actually meant.

  “Ahmed, please examine your control panel and look for a slot that will now be displayed on your screen.”

  Rick typed on the keys, sending the message to Ahmed using the local Thermopolis network.

  The engineer stayed silent for a minute. Rick painfully clenched his fists as he waited for the answer. Then, Ahmed said, “I don't have a slot like that on my control panel.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  Rick desperately smashed his fist on the armrest and started to think out loud, “Then where could the correct console be located? Ahmed, please think, the answer is near, but we just need to find it. We carried synchronized the launch of the generators. But Maya was talking about launching them from... that's it! The Control Center! It looks like I need to go there.”

  “And...”

  “Defend the post! I'll be in touch later.”

  Rick cut the communication, looked through the electronic help file and found the place where the key had to be activated—the Thermopolis Control Center. All right, now he had to decide what to do with the talisman itself. He still had time to retrieve the second half and come back here to complete the program.

  Tommo stood nearby and patiently waited, looking at Rick.

  “What?”

  The prole pointed at the key, then at himself and waved his hand, as if he was hinting about other rooms. Rick tried to understand, “Are you saying that you will get the second half?”

  Tommo nodded.

  “Will you be able to find it?”

  Another nod.

  “What if they catch you? Or if something else will happen, like you getting stuck in an air duct?”

  Tommo made a whole series of wild gestures, smacking his fist into his open palm.

  “No,” Rick shook his head. “That just won't do. We are going to go and get it together.”

  Rick felt sorry that he did not take the blaster with him. Through force of habit, his hand felt for the handle of the knife on his belt. Rick got up from the chair and looked at Tommo carefully. Tommo pointed at the chair, and made a strange movement as if he wanted to jump. He pointed at the chair again and jumped up high, spreading his arms and flapping them like a bird and pretending to fly. Then he pointed his finger at the ceiling, twisted his hand side to side, lowered his arm, shook his head and pointed at one of the side galleries.

  “I don't understand.”

  Then Tommo set of into the gallery.

  “Where are you...” Rick stopped, ordered Ahmed not to leave his post for any reason and hurried after the prole. “Tommo, wait! What do you want to say?”

  Rick got worried, having some doubts that the prole was in full working order.

  And then he saw the contents of the shelves. There was no mistake. There were cryo chambers full of flasks that contained miniature human embryos. Rick read the label on one of the flasks—it showed their DNA code, probable gender, race and information about the parents of the child. Shelves full of human embryos stretched out into infinity.

  “He even made provisions for this...”

  Tommo led Rick onwards. They made their way through the twisting labyrinth and reached a room that looked like an operating theater There was a glass sarcophagus in the middle. A human lay inside without any gender characteristics or hair, with a smooth face like a doll.

  Rick realized that this was a blank slate, a template.

  The prole started making gestures again, pointing at himself, then at Rick and then at the body in the glass sarcophagus chamber.

  “I am finding it really hard to unde
rstand you. What do we need this body for?”

  When he said this, Tommo stepped over to a nearby terminal, switched it on, and started to quickly type, bringing the text up on the screen. Rick worked out what Tommo was proposing from the very first lines. The prole continued typing and when he finished, Rick asked, “Do you think we will manage to do this?”

  “Believe, because it is absurd,” Tommo types in reply.

  19

  RICK FELT how the space around him filled with a barely audible even hum. The distant growing rumble of generators powering up was almost imperceptible, but the light vibration of the floor could still be felt if you stood still for a long time.