The Singularity Trap

by Dennis E. Taylor

  Kemp blew out a hard breath, then pushed the intercom. “Captain, please, Astra.”

  A moment later, the captain’s voice came from the intercom. “You have a report, doctor?”

  “Um, yes, sir. Lots of data, not a lot of explanations, though there’s a very organized interface between the biological and artificial parts of the arm. As I expected, the blood vessels end at that interface. But, interestingly, they aren’t just tied off. The arteries and veins have been specifically tied together so that blood flow is unimpeded. Nerve interfaces are organized and efficient including, I might add, parasympathetic functions.”

  Kemp dragged a particular report toward himself with a finger. “Chief MacNeil said he would give you a full report on his findings but, in summary, the arm isn’t a monolithic piece of metal. There’s complex structure in there, sufficient to provide a working appendage. The substance of the appendage consists of countless, for want of a better word, nanites, linked together to form a continuous whole. Like cells, but somewhat smaller, and made of metal.”

  Kemp’s voice ran down and he stared blankly at the documents on his desk, until the captain said, “Doctor?”

  “Sorry. We amputated. Just below the elbow. Pritchard gave his consent. He agreed that getting a new one grown was a small price to pay. No pun intended. We’ve placed the amputated limb in a sealed sample container, for examination by experts on Earth. Assuming there are experts on something like this.”

  “Are you sure that’s safe?”

  “I’m not sure of anything, Captain. But in terms of risks, I think the damage is done. If it’s inclined to spread in some way, well, it’s already here. And sample containers are pretty tough—they have to be.” Kemp hesitated. “I think we need to understand this thing, and that means handing it over for analysis. If we toss it out the airlock, someone else will just have to come back and get it, wasting more time.”

  “Thank you, doctor. I don’t necessarily disagree. I’ll await the Chief’s no doubt much more opaque report, and I will let you know if I understand any of it. Out.”

  Kemp leaned back in his office chair. Holy crappola, what a day.

  Situation Analysis

  Captain Jennings leaned back with his coffee and looked around the table at his bridge staff. Aiello, Micoroski, and Generus sat with their elbows on the table, gazing into their coffees as if attempting to scry with a crystal ball. MacNeil, on the other hand, was staring into space, a slight frown on his face. Typical of the man, he saw it only as another engineering problem.

  “Opinions?”

  MacNeil sat forward and waved his arm in front of his face. “I wish we’d thought to save the suit arm. I would like to examine the substance.”

  “The crew left it on Baby Rock, partly buried. Heads-up thinking on their part. Didn’t want it drifting around and settling against the ship’s hull.” Aiello looked momentarily alarmed at the thought.

  “Or just as important, settling onto the big rock and contaminating our find.”

  All heads nodded around the table. An untouchable strike would go from a value of tens of billions to zero.

  “On that subject,” Generus added, “has Cirila finished with the assay?”

  “Still working,” Captain Jennings said. “But so far, everything is proving out at greater than expected quantities. She’s starting to throw around numbers that make my earlier speech look like the height of pessimism.”

  This revelation brought smiles around the table. A satisfied silence settled over the room as people sipped their coffees.

  “I’m probably being silly…” Generus finally said, in a deliberately offhand tone.

  All heads turned to her. “What is it, Lita?” asked the captain.

  “I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. But the Baby Rock is only a couple hundred meters from the big rock. Are we inviting trouble by leaving it there?”

  “You want to move it?” Jennings looked at MacNeil. “Can we?”

  “There are several different ways we could do it. The easiest would be to attach a couple of RIVA units. They’re designed to stop rotation on a big rock, they can certainly be used to move a small one. It’ll require careful control, though. And if we accelerate too hard, the suit arm could just fall off the rock, given the miniscule gravity.”

  “And we should put a fail beacon on it,” Micoroski added. “And alert the military to the danger.”

  “Not sure about that,” Aiello said quickly. “If military command gets too paranoid, they could interdict Big Rock as well.”

  Captain Jennings sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Not reporting the danger would be gross negligence. Losing the claim would be devastating for the entire crew.

  He opened his eyes and scanned the faces around the table. “We have to report the danger. We can’t not do so. But we don’t have to create an association between the two. No one will go near this area until after the next lottery.”

  “And then it’ll be like the California Gold Rush.” Aiello looked around the table. “Everyone that can float a boat will be flying out to this sector, looking for another rock like ours.”

  “Right.” Captain Jennings rubbed his face in thought. “Let’s get the paperwork done on the claim. The sooner that gets finalized, the sooner we can start getting bids from the megacorps. Meanwhile, MacNeil, please put together a plan to get the Baby Rock out of the area, with the suit arm and the anomaly on it. We’ll wait a week or two, and report it as a separate incident.”

  Jennings knew what they were doing wasn’t strictly illegal, but it was a distortion of basic moral principles. He realized with a heavy heart that even he was not immune to normal human failings.

  Adverse Reaction

  “A metal arm. A freakin’ metal arm!” Tenn seemed to be stuck in a loop. This was the fourth time he’d said it. Even to other people just as much in shock, it was getting old. Seth tried to keep his face neutral, although the urge to roll his eyes was close to overpowering.

  “How did it replace his arm?” Will asked. Willoughby Todd, the crew’s amateur artist-in-residence, was sketching arms and hands as they discussed the situation. Seth had to admit the sketches were damn good.

  “Could it be something sent up here by the Sino-Soviets?” Aspasia asked.

  “Come on, Spazzie,” Lorenza countered. “They don’t have that kind of tech. They aren’t even at our level. I’ve been to enough trade shows and conferences on automation to know. They’re the buyers, not the innovators.”

  Seth nodded, silently. As the crew’s mining robot operator and general remote automation expert, anything Lorenza said on the subject could be taken as gospel.

  “And why would they go to all that trouble to set up a booby trap for a mining ship?” Seth looked around the table. No one had an answer to that.

  Seth noted Geiger examining his fingertips closely. “Worried that you caught it, Kady?”

  “It’s not impossible. It got through Ivan’s suit. It could have gotten through mine. I don’t know that I touched the gunk, but I don’t know that I didn’t.”

  “But there’s no reason to believe it would take any longer for any of us,” Seth replied. “And I don’t see anything different about you.”

  “Still ugly,” Aspasia added.

  “A metal, freakin’ arm,” Tenn said, into the air.

  Raul reached over and punched Tenn, hard, in the shoulder. “Get a grip, asshole.”

  Tenn yelped and glared at Raul, but the move seemed to have accomplished its goal.

  “Well, regardless,” Aspasia said, “the Chief has a plan to move the Baby Rock, and he’ll be assigning tasks. I’m looking forward to being a billionaire, thank you, and some stupid alien booby trap isn’t going to get in the way.”

  Kady and Seth responded at the same time.

  “Billionaire?”

  “Alien?”

  Aspasia glared at Seth. “Alien is just a placeholder for damn
ed if I know who did it. But it’s as good an explanation as any.” Then she speared Kady with her gaze. “And have you not looked at Cirila’s latest report? This is the biggest find in fifty years. We aren’t just retired, dummy, we’re now the ultra-rich.”

  Tenn, apparently now recovered, piped up, “Albert told me the captain has done the filings, and we’ve got preliminary confirmation. And a couple of inquiries from ‘interested parties’.” Tenn made air quotes around the last two words, which brought smiles to everyone.

  Seth scrubbed his face with his hands. He wasn’t sure how Ivan would react when he awoke. Even with the prospect of a new arm back on Earth, an amputation was still traumatic. Seth resolved to do something to cheer Ivan up.

  * * *

  It took Chief MacNeil very little time to come up with a plan for moving Baby Rock. The ship’s engineer called all hands to duty for the operation. Nothing could be left to chance. Any glitches could potentially contaminate Big Rock, and that would be it for their claim. Both he and the captain had made it clear that they wouldn’t attempt to cover up such an eventuality.

  As such, the crew was focused on the chief’s plan to an extent seldom before seen. Without prompting, people were doing dry runs, talking through the operation again and again, looking for failure points.

  Meanwhile, the Rocket Impelled Vector Adjustment units were unpacked and moved over to Baby Rock. With virtually no rotation to deal with, they could skip the more difficult and problem-prone spin-down operation.

  The crew connected the RIVAs to the rock with pitons, then wrapped a net of cables around the rock to provide additional bracing. A RIVA ripping out of its mooring during a firing sequence would be disastrous. At best, it would impart a spin to the rock and possibly fling the anomaly and suit arm right off. At worst, it could break up the rock completely.

  MacNeil donned a suit and personally inspected the setup. Seth was present, and was careful to keep a straight face.

  After MacNeil had retreated to the ship, Tenn tapped Seth’s helmet. They turned off their radios and touched helmets in the only truly private way to communicate in space.

  “Well, now we know why Mr. MacNeil doesn’t like going EVA,” Tenn said, the usual grin evident in his tone.

  Seth didn’t like Tenn’s attitude, generally, but couldn’t argue this one. “The word that kept popping up was gnome. I don’t think they’re specifically Scottish, but…”

  Tenn laughed. “I was leaning more toward troll, but let’s go with yours. Skin-tight suits definitely are not gonna be his preferred fashion statement.”

  Seth opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the suit intercom buzzed, indicating that they should get back on-channel. Seth quickly keyed his control. “Robinson.”

  “Pay attention, guys,” Aiello’s voice came back over the general frequency. “The Chief has given his blessing. Two minutes to activation.”

  Seth and Tenn exchanged silent looks, and both jetted off to their assigned posts.

  At the appointed time, the RIVA units all fired simultaneously. They were throttled back to minimum thrust, using multiple units to distribute the strain as much as possible. The activity went on for several minutes, at the end of which Baby Rock was perceptibly moving away from Big Rock.

  Finally, the RIVAs cut off.

  “Shutdown confirmed. Units are on failsafe,” Aiello intoned. “Crews, collect all equipment. Carefully.”

  The collection of the RIVAs, cables, and pitons would be done with greater than normal care; first, to prevent any obvious marks or damage on the rock and, second, to avoid too much contact between the crew and the equipment. Captain Jennings had ordered the whole mess to be bundled together and sent on a hyperbolic trajectory into deep space. No physical evidence would be left that could tie the Mad Astra to Baby Rock.

  Deja Vu

  Ivan woke up. He could tell he was still in sick bay, even before his waking mind put the memories of the last twenty-four hours back into order. He shuddered. He’d panicked out there on Baby Rock, and he admitted to mild embarrassment about that. He’d probably find himself the proud owner of a new nickname, way worse than “sprout”. Screechy? Babbles? Eek?

  Or maybe Stubby.

  As his memory reintegrated, he remembered the metal arm. It hadn’t felt different, from inside. Just his arm. But made of metal. They’d talked about it, then decided to amputate. Sure, these days you could get a new limb or organ or pretty much anything regrown.

  Still, for the rest of the trip home, he’d be handicapped.

  Judy, babe, am I going to have a story to tell you! Ivan hoped the kids wouldn’t have to see him with the missing arm. It would freak them out.

  Well, the doc was right, though. It was a small price to pay…

  Ivan reached to throw off the covers with his right hand before he remembered that he no longer had a right hand. He sat up abruptly and snapped open his eyes…

  Dr. Kemp burst through the door, his hair in disarray, and Ivan realized he was screaming. Again. He raised his arm—the right arm, the one that had just been amputated—and wiggled his fingers.

  Dr. Kemp’s eyes goggled. He stepped back slowly and felt for the intercom button without taking his eyes off the arm.

  * * *

  “How is this possible?” Captain Jennings glared at Dr. Kemp. Charlie couldn’t really blame him. The whole thing sounded like a sick joke.

  “I don’t know, sir. But Ivan has a complete right arm, metal up to the biceps now.” Dr. Kemp shook his head, slowly. “I can’t explain this. I can’t explain it at all.”

  “There are a number of issues we have to deal with,” said Chief MacNeil.

  No shit, Sherlock. What clued you in? The thought was unworthy, and Kemp carefully gave no indication of it on his face.

  “One,” the chief continued, “where is the metal for the new arm coming from? And, two, where is the material from the old arm going?”

  “Transmutation?” asked Aiello.

  “I’d just as soon not go there, yet,” the chief answered. “Granted, we’re out of our depth here, technologically, but in the absence of direct evidence, transmutation of elements seems a bit extreme.”

  Dr. Kemp nodded. Then his eyebrows furrowed as a thought occurred to him. He moved to the cot that held a sedated Ivan Pritchard, went down on his knees, and looked underneath.

  “Uh huh. Look here.” Dr. Kemp grabbed a surgical glove and used it to push a small quantity of white powder into a pile. “I bet this is almost all raw calcium. Well, calcium carbonate, anyway. All that’s left of the bones of Ivan’s arm.”

  There was an “oop” sound, and the first mate turned and rushed down the hall, holding his hand over his mouth.

  “Okay, that may have been somewhat insensitive of me.” Kemp stood silently, hand on his chin, for several seconds. “So, other than some trace elements, we’re 95% composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen. Three of the elements are already gases, and if you combine carbon with oxygen, you could literally vaporize ninety-five kilograms of a one-hundred-kilogram man. The rest would be mostly calcium and phosphorus. An arm would be, um…”—Kemp looked into space as he did the calculations—“five percent of total body weight, of which five percent is non-CHON. Ivan weighs about 75 kilograms, so we’re looking at less than 200 grams of non-gaseous waste.”

  Kemp moved to the intercom and pressed a button. “Astra, please check environmental logs for this deck. Any unusual issues with the air, recently?”

  “Affirmative,” responded the androgynous voice. “Slightly higher levels of carbon monoxide, water vapor and nitrogen had to be fractioned out over the last twenty-four hours. Lower levels of oxygen required replenishment.”

  Kemp raised an eyebrow and turned to the others.

  “Interesting, and nice detective work, Dr. Kemp,” Chief MacNeil said. “Now, about the other half of my question.”

  “Yeah, not my department, Chief.
My next step would be to examine the amputated limb. There might be a clue there.”

  MacNeil nodded. “Mind if I tag along?”

  “Not at all.” Kemp turned to the captain. “We’re still gathering facts, sir, but the bottom line is that this thing seems to be progressive. Where it’ll stop is unknown. It might already be done, it might keep going until Ivan is gone.”

  “And we have no idea what it wants,” MacNeil added.

  “Very well. Keep me in the loop.” The captain nodded to the two, then turned and left.

  Kemp turned to head up the corridor. “Now, let’s see about that limb.”

  * * *

  Kemp slid the retractable tray out of the compartment. On the stainless steel tray was a metal case, with multiple latches along one side.

  “You kept it in the morgue? Makes sense, I guess.” MacNeil helped Kemp move the case to an autopsy table. It was a matter of moments to snap open the latches and open it.

  MacNeil took one look and recoiled. “Och, wow.”

  Kemp stood frozen, staring at the contents—a ragged cylinder of flesh, cut cleanly on one end and seemingly dissolved to a conical stump at the other. A length of bone stuck out of the dissolved end.

  “What the… This is nothing but the biological part of the amputation. We cut about three inches above the interface. Where’s the metal?”

  MacNeil stared at the case for a few moments, then pulled a flashlight out of his pocket. Walking to the door, he flicked the lights off in the room. He returned to the case and started playing the light around. “Watch the outside of the case.”

  Kemp craned his neck to take a closer look, then, “There! At the corner.”

  A number of holes, perhaps a millimeter in diameter, allowed stray beams of light to shine through. They looked at each other, then moved to the refrigerated compartment. MacNeil shone the light, then pointed. Kemp saw what looked like a similar series of pinholes in a corner.