Quantum Space: Book One in the Quantum Series

by Douglas Phillips

  6 Darkness

  The cabin was still and quiet, the violent shaking of reentry now a remote event in the past. Sergei lifted his helmet visor and removed his gloves. He peered outside through the single small window. The view was unlike anything he had ever seen.

  “Where do you think we are?” Jeremy asked.

  “Not where we’re supposed to be,” Sergei answered.

  They were still in space, of that much he was certain. But this space was anything but normal. In one direction, a single brilliant light and a field of stars filled the view, stretching infinitely to the left and right, up and down. It some ways it was a normal view of the sun and stars, but different… somehow, separated.

  As if we’re next to an enormous wall, with stars painted on it.

  The view in the opposite direction was just as startling because there was nothing but black. No light. No stars. Darkness. With nothing in the foreground, there was also no sense of depth. He couldn’t tell if he was viewing a nearby black curtain, or whether the darkness continued forever.

  The spacecraft slowly rolled and the view changed. Another shape came into view, embedded within the wall of stars. A great slash of blue color, elliptical in shape, but so narrow as to be pointed on either end. As time passed, the width of the blue ellipse narrowed further, becoming needlelike, as if it might disappear altogether.

  The view fit no perception of what space looks like. Any view across space, in any direction, invariably includes a measure of randomness. This view was jarring because of its uniform geometry. A wall of stars with a definite edge.

  Anton checked his display once more. “Still no telemetry, no ground transmissions of any kind, no GPS, no satellite relays. We have no position data. We could be anywhere.”

  As Anton spoke the words, Sergei felt a chill. A commander must always know the location of his ship. But beyond a GPS readout, humans feel their position using a built-in sense, an internal gyroscope. It was a comfort that could only be identified once it was lost.

  I am nowhere. The feeling was more than disorienting, it was terrifying.

  “Full system check,” Sergei ordered, both to his crewmates and to himself. If nothing else, it would provide an opportunity to participate in routine. All three men pressed buttons on the control panel and noted information in their displays.

  “Heat shield is intact,” reported Anton. “And it’s still hot. Two-one-three degrees.”

  “At least the reentry wasn’t our imagination,” said Jeremy. “Cabin pressure is good, CO2 scrubbers are online and clear, oxygen normal at forty percent.”

  They continued with their readouts. Primary navigation computer, communications equipment, and on and on. All systems were working normally.

  Sergei flipped a switch to connect his headset to their communications radio and pressed a transmit button on his armrest.

  “Moskva, Sayuz, sdelanny.”

  The cabin was quiet as they waited several seconds for a response. Sergei tried again.

  “Moskva, Sayuz. Peredachu na 922.763. Otvechat.”

  He held his breath, listening. Sergei dialed another frequency.

  “Houston, Soyuz. Transmitting on emergency frequency 927.0. Respond.”

  He checked his display. A self-test confirmed the radio was working. The three men looked at each other, and the continued silence brought with it the full realization of their situation. They were alone. For reasons none could understand, they were lost and completely alone.

  Above Sergei’s left shoulder, the view outside was still the same. A vast wall of stars and a long thin splash of blue. It was a view as gloriously stunning as it was bizarre. Except for the star wall, the rest was nothing but a dark void.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The human eye is naturally attracted to contrasts of light and to movement. The eye does not perform well in darkness. Had there been more light, or had Sergei’s eyes been receptive to a broader range of the electromagnetic spectrum, he might have noticed something else out in the darkness. Away from the stars, away from the light, the dark void was not entirely empty.

  A single angular object, a wedge shape, drifted across the dark space. The wedge was black, imperceptibly different from its surroundings. Black upon black. Its surface was a near-perfect absorber, and with no reflection; even its shape was difficult to determine. If the wedge had been between Sergei’s eye and the wall of stars, he would have noticed its negative space as it blocked out the stars behind it. But it wasn’t. Floating in the darkness, the wedge provided no clues as to its origin, its size or its purpose. It was simply there.

  The wedge remained stationary for several minutes. Then it rotated slightly, and near one end, a small red light appeared.

  7 Insight

  Early-morning sunlight arrived at the bedroom window, making the shade glow. Branches outside shifted in the breeze and cast swaying shadows. The room was warm and quiet. Only the ticking of a mechanical clock in the hallway disturbed the silence.

  Nala Pasquier sat up in bed. She brushed her thick dark hair from her face, reached both arms into the air and yawned. She twisted her sleep shirt into place, displaying a picture of Beaker, the perpetually freaked-out Muppet, and Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, warning, Stand Back. This might be dangerous.

  She glanced at the clock—6:35 a.m.—and lifted her phone from the nightstand.

  Good, no messages. And plenty of time before work.

  She could use the extra time for a workout, but also for mental stimulation. The conflicts at work had been building in the past few days, and she needed to reduce complexity, simplify and find insight. This morning, she would use the pod.

  She padded barefoot to the adjacent workout room. The stair climber and weight bench were ordinary. The smooth white oval pod was not. Inside, it held a pool of warm saltwater; a cocoon of sorts. Other people might have a bathtub, but Nala had her float pod.

  She had a theory about insight. To achieve a deep understanding required a shift in intellect. Ordinary consciousness was far too chaotic, overloading the senses. To obtain insight, she needed an environment that would allow her brain to function at a higher level. There were different ways of calming the senses, and Nala had studied them all. Meditation, yoga, peyote and more. She felt each had value, but none were as effective as her own homegrown approach.

  Through practice, she had boiled the process down to two steps. First, stimulate your conscious brain with information, alternatives and problems to be solved. Once your mind was filled, then relax your body and eliminate sights, sounds and touch. Completely shut down all sensory input.

  In a state of relaxation and sensory deprivation, the conscious mind drifts, allowing the subconscious to take over. In this dreamlike state, the subconscious processes the recent stimuli, still fresh within the brain’s synapses. With careful attention and practice, her method could achieve incredible insight. She had done it on more than one occasion.

  She touched the power button on the stair climber display and connected to her computer files. From the display, she could pull up reference material, email or anything else she might need. She stepped onto the pedals and began her workout. Her legs moved up and down, slowly at first but increasing in pace.

  She began her mental stimulus by stepping through the work she had accomplished over the past week. She thought about completed tasks and those coming up. A review, mostly. She didn’t stop on any one topic, but kept them flowing, like flipping playing cards in a deck.

  Her legs moved rhythmically on the machine, and her heartbeat increased. She touched the computer display and opened an electronic notebook. She read through her recent notes, reacquainting her conscious mind with the details of each entry.

  Her arms held on to handles that moved back and forth in synchronization with the motion of her legs. Her breathing became stronger, and small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

  Nala shifted her focus to a specific problem in need of a solution. It was something
she had been grappling with for days, something she could not yet understand. She asked herself questions, knowing consciously that she had no answers.

  “The distance is impossible,” she spoke aloud. “What did they do? At Fermilab? And how does the wave oscillation tie back to theory?” The questions went on, the thoughts continued, all very consciously.

  Fifteen minutes later, her leg and arm muscles burned, her breathing forceful. She slowed the machine and stepped off. She stretched, allowing time to catch her breath.

  When her heart rate calmed, she stepped over to the pod and lifted its lid. It was like opening a peanut shell, splitting the pod in half. The interior glowed with violet light, her color choice, and the lower half was filled with clear water. A wisp of steam drifted across the surface.

  She pulled her sleep shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor. Standing naked in front of the tub, she inserted two earplugs and stepped into the water.

  It felt like nothing. Not warm, but not cool either. She lay down in the pod and stretched out fully, face up, with enough room surrounding her to ensure she did not touch the walls. She reached up and pulled the upper lid down, completely sealing herself inside, the violet light still glowing around her. With her muscles relaxed, she felt the high concentration of Epsom salt keeping her buoyant. Floating took no effort at all.

  A minute later the violet light dimmed, and she was immersed in complete darkness. The pod was now devoid of sensory input. No light. No sound or smell. Not even the feeling of touch, as the skin-temperature water disappeared from her senses. She had achieved the state she needed, a brain filled with thoughts and senses calmed.

  Nala closed her eyes; the darkness was the same regardless. She relaxed every muscle and felt as if she was floating not in water, but in space. It was nothingness. She could feel her breathing, the thumps of her heart, but nothing else.

  Her mind wandered. She didn’t sleep, but it felt like a dream. Her body no longer existed, only her thoughts. She saw fleeting images in the darkness. A flash of light, a small boy’s face, bubbles. Each image disappeared as quickly as it came. Without sensory input, the brain creates its own images.

  Hallucinations. They’ll pass.

  Mixed emotions washed over her. Her heart rate elevated slightly. She felt as if she were tumbling and could not determine up or down. She allowed herself to release, as if turning a page, and dropped into a deep meditative state.

  Without effort, her intelligence blossomed; her ability to correlate and compare increased. Her conscious thoughts became objects floating in space. Lines of software, bits of data, equations and graphs, even conceptual ideas and assumptions.

  I am fully aware. Nothing can remain hidden.

  Reaching into an even deeper state, she envisioned a tunnel, a spiral path twisting away into the distance. She followed the tunnel as it tilted upward. A growing brightness led her forward. She was near her goal. As her mind reached out, bright light flooded from nowhere. Her physical body shuddered, causing her brain to snap back to consciousness. She opened her eyes wide and called out.

  “Wah Xiang!”

  Her voice triggered electronics in the pod, and the glow of violet light returned. Nala looked around. The pod was no longer a refuge of the mind; it was simply a pool of salty water.

  “The Chinese,” she whispered to herself. “They hacked me… that’s how they knew… those bastards took my code and changed the fucking oscillation amplitude.”

  Her new knowledge was disturbing, and it made her angry. Still, her eyes shined with the full satisfaction of her ability to discover it. Her super power. When the insights came, they always surprised her. She trembled as a chill ran down her back.

  Even more satisfying was the assurance that her method worked. Additional insight was there for the taking. Years ago, she had tried yoga with follow-on meditation. It had given mixed results, likely because it was too difficult to shut out sensory input. She had even once tried intense sex followed by a relaxing massage. It had worked to a degree. But verbalizing details of complex scientific topics was odd while bouncing on her partner’s pelvis. She never saw him again.

  Nala reached up, opening the pod as light streamed in. She stepped out and grabbed a towel. Dabbing herself dry, she looked in the mirror and smiled broadly.

  “I have a feeling this is going to be a big day.”

  8 Chicago

  An hour after leaving the White House, Daniel and Marie were seated in comfortable leather seats, climbing to thirty-five thousand feet on board a Gulfstream G280. The accommodations were better than anything Daniel had experienced in his career with the Navy. Most likely used by top brass out of Washington. Thanks, Janine, you did well.

  The interior was arranged as four sets of seats, with a table between each pair. Marie sat across the table from Daniel, making herself heard above the piercing noise of the jet engines. “Honestly, it’s been a fast ride at NASA. One job led to the next, and suddenly I’m working for the HEO admin. And today… wow. Starting off by being summoned to the White House? Well, that’s a first.”

  Daniel looked over his new partner as she spoke. She wore stylish business clothes and little makeup and carried a slim briefcase. Her short brown hair flipped under when she pushed it behind one ear, but she wore no earrings. Marie looked understated and professional, her only jewelry being a gold ring on her middle finger.

  “For your sake, I hope Ibarra doesn’t make a habit of summoning you in the early-morning hours. He’s a former astronaut, isn’t he?”

  “Shuttle. Three missions in the nineties. He transitioned to administration well. There are so many good people at NASA. Six months ago, I was training those guys.” She nodded her head upward towards space. “Sergei and Jeremy, at least. I don’t personally know Anton Golovkin, but they’re all top-notch people.”

  “You train the Russians too?”

  “Of course. Most of the ISS training is at Johnson Space Center. We have a lot of mockups there, plus the Neutral Buoyancy Tank for spacewalks. They train for the ISS arm operation in Montreal, and then there’s advanced science training in Germany. And, of course, Soyuz training in Moscow. It’s all around the world. They don’t call it the International Space Station for nothing.”

  “Your pride shows.” Her face lit up. Putting people at ease was one of Daniel’s specialties. “What did you do before NASA?”

  “In school. Colorado, Boulder. Space Operations Engineering.”

  “Huh.” Daniel shrugged. “I had no idea a degree like that even existed.”

  “It’s a small program. I was the first woman to complete it.”

  “Congratulations, then. It seems to have taken you where you wanted to go. You’ve accomplished a lot in a short time.”

  “I’m older than I look,” she admonished. “Shall I put my glasses on? They add five years.” Her black glasses rested on the table, the thin lenses making them appear to be more of a fashion accessory than an optical aid.

  “Sorry,” Daniel said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious. Bradley, too. He tends to grill people, but he’s just being thorough.”

  “It’s not a problem, you’ve both been very kind. The discussion of string theory was very helpful. I enjoyed it.”

  The conversation paused, and Marie turned it around. “How about your background? I’m sorry, I should know. But no one told me who would be at the meeting, so I didn’t have time to research.”

  “No reason to apologize, it’s just how the White House works. I’m in the Office of Science and Technology Policy, OSTP. We monitor programs and nudge them back in line when things go astray.”

  “And you’re an investigator?”

  “A science investigator. My degrees are in biology and astrophysics. I worked for the Navy for fourteen years. There’s a lot of science in the military, more than people realize.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, like nuclear physics. Every submarine is a mobile nuclear power plant. R
adiation containment becomes pretty important when you’ve got a hundred sailors working right next to plutonium. These days, though, I see a lot more breakdowns in process than in technology. People cutting corners, unnecessary competition, that kind of thing.”

  “The job’s not dull, is it?”

  “We get our share of craziness. Last month, we had a guy out at Idaho National Lab who launched a few hundred weather balloons all at once. The winds carried them south to Salt Lake City and it turned out the balloons were underinflated, so they all started coming down. People panicked and flooded 911 with calls. Social media went crazy—the balloons were filled with neurotoxins, they said. A terrorist attack.”

  Daniel shook his head at the thought. “We helped him adjust his test protocols.”

  “Funny. Why do people always jump to conspiracy theories?”

  Daniel started to make a political comment, but stopped. He smiled. “Some questions are probably best left unanswered. The world is a mysterious place.”

  Their plane climbed through the lower clouds over northern Virginia. Daniel glanced out the window to a sea of cotton puffs, stretching to the horizon. Farther above, a few streaks of white with gracefully curving tips contrasted against the dark blue. Tiny tendrils of frost formed around the edges of the window and produced an intricate microscopic pattern. If the world was mysterious, it was beautiful too.

  “I suppose we’re high enough that I can fire up my laptop,” Daniel said. “Without a flight attendant, there’s no way to know when we’ve passed through ten thousand feet.”

  Marie glanced out the window. “We have. But that’s an old commercial flight rule. Even if it was still effective, it doesn’t apply to military flights.”

  “They trained you on FAA regulations at NASA?”

  Marie suppressed a laugh. “Not at NASA, no. But I’m a pilot.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. He had underestimated her, and he knew why—quantum physics. Lack of knowledge in one area was never a good indicator of broader accomplishments. “I’m impressed. NASA operations, fluent in Russian and you fly planes.”