All Fall Down

by Astrotomato

  One of the sensor automatons walked towards the rock face, each leg, each step, testing micro-seismic variations in the ground as it moved forward. Of the other two automata, one flew on dragonfly wings, and the other scurried up Win’s robes, perching on his shoulder like a protective scarab.

  Sophie disappeared from his view, returning to the aircar.

  Win walked forward. The overhead sun light made the rock walls in the crevice almost bone white. The minerals in the rock must be reflecting or refracting the light. As he walked, taking deliberate, measured steps, the rock walls gradually filled his view, surrounding him on both sides. He entered the steep sided valley.

  “Sophie, have you a topological map of the rock island?”

  “I'll send one to your suit. But it’s out of date.”

  “Thank you.”

  In his goggles, a forced perspective three dimensional map of the inselberg appeared. Using eye commands he zoomed into the valley he stood in, matched his position to the projection, then instructed his suit’s computer to track him using Fall’s satellites and its built-in motion sensors. He built a holo as he moved.

  Win looked from side to side. The map was indeed old. Most of the crevice’s walls had changed shape. His shoulder sensor measured changes of over ten percent in width, rock wall topography and micro-fracture length and density.

  He started his slow walk again. Just ahead he could make out one of the black spheres. They were recording all data as a back-up, triangulating his position, and creating their own holo of the area. They also gathered gravimetric information. After ten paces he stopped and took a brief look backward. His walking sensor was carefully following. He watched it lower a device to test for biological markers.

  The automaton's shape was based on the leaf bugs of his home planet Ma’Fung. Unlike its inspiration, the automaton’s legs were capable of extending to two metres in length, which made it look spindly, unstable, like an Old Earth stick insect.

  Win walked slowly through the crevice. His goggles automatically adjusted to the fluctuating sun glare and reflections from the rock faces as he wandered from side to side. His thoughts wandered to his wife, Xiao-xing and his son, Hong-xian. He should be with them now. The last time he'd seen Xiao-xing, her hand had been on Hong-xian’s shoulder, both of them waving at him as his pod started its ascent up Ma’Fung’s ancient space elevator. He had waved until he knew they could no longer see him. When he was high enough, he had seen the sun break the horizon line, slightly north of their position due to Ma’Fung’s eccentric attitude and orbit. The glare from the northern snows had caught him by surprise. A giant blossom enveloped the world. Around him the rock walls gleamed like that morning snow from afar.

  Win pulled the robe sleeve aside on his left arm, and tapped at the control band set into the suit’s outer layers. He recorded his personal log, detailing the environment.

  “Sensor one, sample wall material.” The leaf bug behind him pulled up its ground sensor, ambled to the rock wall, and scraped rock samples onto its body, which quickly disappeared.

  Win walked back to the crevice opening and looked out to the desert. He took a step forward. Would the crevice have been a shelter, or a wind tunnel? Had she gone in thinking she would be safe? But then why remove her clothes?

  “Log. Suppose I am the colonist. I am trying to get back before the twin suns bake me inside my suit. I have battled through the storm. I cannot see my way, except that my goggles must be projecting a path to follow. I’m tired. I am probably thinking about how to explain why I’m late. And knowing how late I am, and how much danger I'm in, I still stop. Why? To see something that makes me want to risk being baked inside my suit? Why not call out an aircar?”

  Win stepped further out of the crevice, turned and walked back along the side of the inselberg. After some metres he turned, put his head down, and started to trudge though the sand. Away to his left, he saw Sophie exit the aircar. He dragged his feet in the sand, trying to feel the heaviness of the shifting ground, how it might feel if it was still fluid during the storm, how tiredness might affect his steps. He paused for a few moments pulling the robes tighter around his face mask, so that only his goggles peered out.

  Win pushed his feet through the final few metres of sand, came level with the crevice entrance, and carried on. After a further two metres he stopped. “Sophie, I think I would like to return to base now, thank you.”

  Kate and Djembe entered Fall’s Central Operations Room on the bottom floor of the Colony. When they arrived the security holos were showing Win looking around the main hangar bay.

  “We don’t have many visitors, you know. Excuse me watching your colleague. It was a vendetta killing last time as well, wasn't it?”

  Kate turned to the man talking. “We haven’t been introduced.” She smiled, “General Leland, Military Intelligence.” Kate put out her hand.

  “Know who you are. Had Daoud send me a message earlier. Jonah Kingsland. Pleased to meet you.”

  Kate gripped Jonah’s hand briefly. “This is Commander Djembe Cygnate. What was that about vendettas?”

  “Just saying. Last time we had a murder here, it was some family clan following a vendetta. 'Blood feud' is another term in Baseparse. Family had waited two generations to take revenge. Don’t understand it myself. The two of them, the killer and the victim, had moved here as a married couple. All set up apparently, a generation previously. Your lot had a field day. Think it was the first bit of interesting news you lot’d had in a couple a hundred years. Shame for the families though. Classified installation, no news ever gets out. The family’ll still be wondering if they’ve been avenged, or whatever it was they were plotting for.”

  “Indeed. And is that what people are saying? That Doctor Maki was murdered?”

  “No, no official mention of a vendetta. ‘Exposure’ was the word he used. Ain’t no one here dies of exposure any more. Even the miners aren’t that stupid.” Jonah smiled, sadly in Kate’s opinion, “Still, people get sloppy sometimes.” Jonah looked at the holos flickering around the room. “Suppose you’ll be wanting to review my systems?”

  Jonah was young. Kate thought he couldn't be more than thirty years old. This Colony was full of bright young things, and people who looked younger than their years. MI must have some serious monitoring regimes across society to pick out the best candidates. Jonah had short blonde hair, cut such that it looked a mess, but all the better for it. He wore the clothes of the Carina system, soft cotton trousers with a tight jerkin and waistcoat. He stood out from the technicians who wore grey trousers and grey jackets: security clothing.

  “If that’s OK with you, yes. Commander Cygnate will stay here and go through things.” Kate cast her eyes over the room, a large round space filled with holopits, control panels and suspended body suits. It was a dark room illuminated with the blue of holograms. Security holos played out all over, with security officers walking around them, occasionally manipulating the views or augmenting them with diagnostic tools. An automaton was powered down in one corner, a baleful violet light keeping an eye on the room, in its task-ready state. “Djembe, I’m depending on you to keep us all to time for the consequence flows. You know Win can sometimes get lost in his tasks. Can you schedule the first report for one hour’s time?”

  “Of course General. I’ll see you later.”

  “Jonah, nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll meet again over the next few days. Djembe, I’ll be in Research with Doctor Masjid.”

  Kate took a final look round the room, before walking away through security holos of the farming pods.

  When his shift ended, Doctor Peter Cassel closed down his work station in the administrative section of the Research Facility. He paused to talk with some of the junior biologists. These were the first crop of workers – along with their peers in mining, piloting, engineering and the other sections – who were children of Fall, born, raised and educated on the planet. As the Colony's population started to expand, the senior
staff had put much thought into their education, both formal and informal.

  The children of Fall were raised to fill the roles where it was difficult to recruit through the normal classified channels. That meant its engineers and technicians and mining staff principally. For the scientific roles and the senior management who needed a background with broad experience, the Colony, for the moment, continued to look out of system. Peter wondered how long the Colony could keep this policy. His own children were approaching their mid-teens and had benefited from his and his wife's extra-curricular teaching. And like their parents they were showing signs of being ambitious. It was what had brought Peter and his wife Marquisa to Fall; the romance, the mystery, the chance to work in a facility and on projects classified beyond most politicians' and military personnel's clearance levels. How hard they had pursued the rumours and how hard they'd worked to achieve their dream.

  Back in his family quarters, he looked at his children slumped in front of some SysNet entertainment. Would he, should he, stop them leaving Fall if they wanted to? Once they left it would be very difficult for them to return. If they pursued their dreams beyond the system, it might be the last he would see of them. When he'd come here, when anyone came here to work, their memories were wiped of familial connections. Enough was left to provide an emotional comfort: how many siblings, if they were alive or dead at the time of transfer to Fall. But beyond that, nothing. Cherished memories – gone. Time spent together – gone. Past loves – gone. For some it was the perfect escape from tortured lives. For others it was the ultimate price to work on some of society's greatest scientific projects.

  Feeling nostalgic, he went to the two children – his daughter Ruby, fifteen and his son Iwan, thirteen – and watched some of the entertainment with them. Sitting behind them, they turned briefly to say “Hi,”. He watched the backs of their heads, their shoulders yucking up and down as they laughed at some inane comment, and he marvelled at biology, how it could create so complex a creature as a human.

  What would he do if they wanted to leave? Where would the children of Fall go, grown up amongst classified environs. Leaving was the same as arriving: memory wipes. The parents in the Colony stood to lose a lot.

  Peter remembered then that he needed to check on the pods, and implement Masjid's instructions before it was too late. The simplicity of that project was also becoming more complex. He had never asked about its application. It was a DNA hybrid, run in secret. MI, the Cadre, didn't know about it. That was as much as he knew. Other than that he and Masjid had long discussed why it might be so secret, and what they would do if it turned out to have dangerous implications. They would pull the plug. No one but Daoud and Sophie would be any the wiser. And that, they both felt, gave them the protection they needed. Still, it made him nervous, to think that he and Masjid had plotted against Daoud. He was a powerful man, a former Cadre member.

  Peter tousled Iwan's hair. “I'm going back to the lab to check on something. Tell your Mum I'll be back for dinner.”

  Iwan barely glanced round, “Sure Dad. See you in a bit.”

  Peter left his children laughing at the entertainment. He wondered, as he turned to the nearest lift, if his family would anyway be drummed out of Fall for what he might have to do.

  After Kate had left, Djembe looked around the Central Operations room, his eyes pausing here and there, finally settling on Jonah.

  “So, you a Consequence Planner?” Jonah leaned against a control panel.

  “Yes I am. It’s important for Military Intelligence. Without me there would be no structure or rhythm to the work. And I guide the decisions we make, it’s like…”

  “Know what it is. Trained as one. Bloody good, too, I was. Come into the Op's holo suite, I’ll show you what I use for Fall. You’ll like it.” Jonah put his hands against the control panel, elbows angled to push himself back up.

  Djembe looked past Jonah’s head to an empty work area, “If you do not mind, Mr. Kingsland, I have a large amount of information to gather and communications systems to inspect.”

  Jonah nodded as Djembe spoke, then interrupted again. “Yeah, yeah, know what your duties are. Like I said, I was one of the best. How’d you think I got into this facility?”

  “With respect, I think I would have heard of you if you were that good,” Djembe turned his gaze back to Jonah.

  “One of them, are you?”

  “One of what?”

  “Think cos you control the map and do the project management on mission, that you’re better than everyone else? I used to be like that. Like you. This place sorted me out. Know why you’ve never heard of me?”

  “I can’t imagine.” Djembe started to look around the room again, anxious to start his work.

  “Soon as you’re assigned to Fall, you cease to exist. Top secret, see.” He looked around the room, “Can’t have everybody blabbing about this place. Too many consequences.” Jonah winked.

  “Then,” Djembe gave a tired look, “it’s a planet of the living dead? People who no longer exist, trapped here until they die. Why would you choose such an assignment? You’ve given up any control over your life you ever had.”

  Jonah walked ahead, stopping just in front of a long holo of Fall’s medical facility. He turned and walked backward into an image of empty cots, smiling as he went, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

  “I have a lot of comms protocols to analyse, your SysNets to interrogate and our first consequence juncture to manage in less than an hour. Just show me how to patch into your AI. Please.”

  Jonah turned and walked through a translucent image of nurses tending to babies. He continued to the far side of the room, raising his voice as he did, “As you wish Commander. I’ve got a pit and an AI terminal over here. It has screens, body suit and visual and audio shielding. You’ll be able to work in private. Sophie’s already set up your access codes, linked to the MI classified space.”

  Djembe walked over to the offered holopit, through hanging, 2D security holos, projections and charts, with security personnel moving around them. Later, Djembe would realise that they weren't pulling holicons around like in every other holo suite he'd been in. They stood at their holos and the projections moved, as if under automatic control.

  He looked at Jonah, “The pit will be fine. Thank you.”

  Jonah paused, chewing the inside of his cheek, “If you need anything else, I’ll be around. Come see me when you get curious. It could change your mission.”

  He gave a half smile, mindful of what Win had said to him on their journey from Krisa. “Thank you Mr. Kingsland. Computer, initiate classified space.” The large room, the floor area of which occupied a quarter of its Colony level, disappeared as a hard light shield wrapped the work area. Djembe was alone in his private work space.

  “Computer, open immersion suit.” A hatch in the floor spiralled open, allowing a smooth, light blue body suit to rise from its storage space. Large oval sections on the arms, legs and torso were open, allowing a view into the suit, where contours and patterns were visible. These formed the interface points for the body. Movement translated exactly into the AI’s cyber environment.

  “Access the ship In The Palm Of Your Hand, authorisation Djembe Pattern Epsilon. Complete MI classified space, lock acoustics and visual shields, release on my command only.”

  Djembe removed his MI uniform, opened the body suit and stepped inside. “Close suit. Activate body support field. Form optical bridge and visual environment.” The suit rose a few centimetres from the floor, held in place by an antigrav field. From the suit’s eye sockets a gel crept over his cornea. When it was complete a number of menus and icons occupied his visual field. He reached out a hand to grab an icon, testing the suit’s synchronisation. When he was sure the suit systems were functioning properly, he reached for the AI icon, which presented itself as an egg with the words ‘crack me’ on. Djembe sighed, it appeared that Win was right – he had an eccentric AI to deal with. He picked up the e
gg with one hand and cracked it on the edge of his other hand.

  In his augmented vision a black cat walked through the hard light wall, tail curled in the air. It looked at him with verdant eyes, “Hello Commander, I’m Fall’s AI avatar.” The cat walked to his feet, raising itself on its hind legs to brush its cheeks against his legs, “How would you like to view my environment? I have a number of interactive environments on file.”

  “Please access the construct on my ship, file ‘Djembe AI Three’.”

  Djembe felt his feet come to rest on a hard floor, as a spaceport dissolved into view. He waited a few moments to allow his senses to become used to the environment. He stood in the middle of a spaceport passenger terminal, with observation windows running around its circumference. There were check-in desks, public information displays and private information terminals. Bundles of luggage lay around. People appeared across the terminal floor, representing a hundred different races, all in their cultural clothing styles, frozen mid-step or walking in slow motion on the spot. A low murmur became apparent, the sound of someone mumbling to themselves just at the edge of hearing. Through the observation window, Djembe saw a black sky, devoid of stars, except for one bright spot. Spacecraft hung in the air below the horizon line seconds into lift off or from landing, or rested in docks covered in clamps, hoses and coils of cabling.

  “Computer. My construct specifically requires you to input live comms traffic into this environment. The MI override protocol is on my profile. These avatars should be moving, talking.”

  The cat jumped up onto an information terminal, its tail waving behind it. “I have a name you know. It’s Verigua, if you need it. I must say, this is quite a staid environment. Really, couldn’t you think of something more imaginative? It’s rather a prosaic metaphor. Spaceport, spaceships, people, stars.” The cat licked a paw, “Yes, yes, they’re internal system communications and extra-system comms, I get it. Each person represents a personal comms account, the spaceships are off world communications. The bright light in the sky the Administrator’s link to MI. It’s all so obvious, Commander.” The cat blinked, “I have some much more stimulating constructs if you want them. I can have you whizzing in protein soups, surfing on quantum foam, or if you’d prefer some fun whilst you work we can make this into an orgy. You’d be amazed how well you humans say that works.”