by Jade Kerrion
“There are limited forms of flora, marine, and terrestrial fauna. Would you like me to transmit the information to you as well, Kir Davos?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, and it’s just ‘Kir.’ I’m surprised the planet didn’t progress further in four billion revolutions. I’d have expected a great deal more bio-diversity.”
Jem did, too. A hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “Did something happen recently, SimOne?”
“Yes, Jem Moran. Summer vacation happened. The planet was unmonitored for three months. I am sorry to report that ninety-six percent of all marine species and seventy percent of terrestrial vertebrate species are now extinct. Fifty-seven percent of all families and eighty-three percent of all genera were killed, including the only known mass extinction of insects to date.”
A stunned silence followed SimOne’s announcement. Jem dragged a hand through her short, dark hair. “We lost everything?”
“No. Four percent of the marine species and thirty percent of terrestrial vertebrate species survived.”
“I can do the math, SimOne,” Jem said with exasperation as she stared at the ruined planet. “Damn it. This is a piece of crap.”
“The mother of all mass extinctions,” Kir added softly.
Jem squeezed her eyes shut against the tension headache clawing through her skull. “The judges better take into account where the planet started off in the new school year or we’ll never stand a chance of winning this competition.”
“At least everything after this will be an improvement.” Kir grinned.
It had better. Jem shook her head. “I’m going to read through these reports. We’ll need to come up with a plan by tomorrow, or we’ll never be able to reverse this planet off its suicidal path.”
“I’m guessing it’s not as bad as it looks,” Kir said. “SimOne, has the planet gone through other mass extinctions?”
“Yes, but none as severe as the most recent.”
“It’ll probably recover, then,” Kir said.
“On little more than a hope and a prayer?” Jem asked. “Not very likely. We’re going to need a plan, Kir.”
He nodded amiably. “Right.”
He still had not asked for the archives. Were facts going to feature in his plan at all? Jem turned to look at SimOne. “What actually caused the mass extinction, other than neglect over the summer vacation?”
“The causes are inter-related. Volcanism, methane hydrate gasification, sea level fluctuations, anoxia, and hydrogen sulfide emissions.”
“What’s that in a language we actually understand?” Kir asked.
SimOne continued without missing a beat. “Volcanic eruptions, including flood basalt eruptions over an area of two million kilometers, resulted in dust clouds and acid aerosols. The dust clouds subsequently blocked the light from their star, disrupting photosynthesis and destroying the food chain. The aerosols washed out of the atmosphere in the form of acid rain, destroying land-based flora and fauna with calcium carbonate exoskeletons. The eruptions also released carbon dioxide, resulting in rising temperatures.”
“Global warming?”
“That is an appropriate descriptor, Kir,” SimOne said.
“What else?” Jem demanded. The headache was unavoidable at this point. The only question was whether it would escalate into a migraine.
“There’s more?” Kir asked, a note of disbelief seeping into his voice.
The android continued. “The oceans became anoxic.”
“Anoxic?”
“Severely depleted of oxygen. The anaerobic sulfur-reducing organisms then dominated the chemistry of the oceans, causing massive emissions of hydrogen sulfide.”
“That would be toxic, right?” Kir asked.
“That is correct,” SimOne said.
In essence, it had been the perfect storm.
Jem sighed. “Life on this planet is so fragile.” She looked up when Kir chuckled; he wore an expression of wide-eyed innocence.
“If we had silicon-based life forms instead, they might have…” Kir’s face relaxed into a grin when she scowled at him. He chuckled again, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Never mind.”
“Very funny, Davos.”
“Then why aren’t you laughing?”
“Because I’m still wondering if I should cry. Can’t you see? This planet is a wreck.”
“Yes, but it’s our wreck.”
She turned her back on him.
He rushed after her as she stormed out of the laboratory. “Okay, all right. It was a bad joke. I’m sorry.”
She blinked sharply, recoiling from the bright lights in the classroom as the darkness of the universe peeled back from around her. She shrugged off his hand and glowered at him.
He immediately held his arms up in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to add a bit of levity to the situation”
“Your levity is misplaced. Let me tell you something, Davos.”
“It’s Kir.”
“I only call my friends by their first names. Listen carefully. I am only going to say this once. The competition is everything to me. I intend to win it. I’ll do it with or without you, but I’d much rather do it with your help. Take it seriously, please.” She waited, meeting his eyes directly.
After a long pause, he nodded. His voice was quiet. “All right. I get it. You want to win.”
It was not until he had left her alone in the classroom that she realized that he had not actually said if he would help or if he would just be a burden for the entire year.
2
Pangaea (from Ancient Greek pan “entire” and Gaia “Earth”) is hypothesized as a supercontinent that existed during the Paleozoic and Mesozoic eras about 250 million years ago, before the component continents were separated into their current configuration
– Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
* * *
When Jem met Kir and SimOne for their second class later that week, she had reason to celebrate. “The planet is holding up,” she announced with a smile.
The Great Extinction had seemingly left them with too little to go on, but the little that remained had been sufficient. The planet was surviving, even thriving. The bio-diversity numbers climbed steadily. The oceans had repopulated; shelled cephalopods were diversifying from the single line that had survived the Great Extinction, and the fish and marine reptiles were taking hold, the latter growing to an enormous size.
“What about the land?” Kir asked, looking up from SimOne’s data feed. His dark-eyed gaze shifted to the planet rotating serenely in space, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was once again in play.
“The amphibians and reptiles are doing well. I’d say everything is moving according to plan,” Jem said.
“I think we need to diversify.”
“Not yet, Davos. We need to give them time to stabilize.”
“Cold-blooded life-forms are hardly the height of stability,” he said.
“When did you become a Biology major?” she asked sarcastically.
“I know just enough to be dangerous. I think we need to start moving toward the warm-blooded life forms.”
“Eventually, but not yet. We need to play it safe. I ran my analysis past my Biology professor this morning. He agrees with my assessment. The planet’s too immature. In a hundred million revolutions, we’ll consider it.”
Kir shook his head. “Look, I’m no Biology major, but I understand business. We need to diversify our risk. SimOne, I want an analysis of the reptiles. Which one most closely mirrors mammalian traits?”
SimOne’s serene voice reflected none of the heightened emotions around her. “Planetary sensors indicate that the therapsids provide the closest match.”
“You’re thinking of evolving it into a mammal?” Jem asked.
His eyebrows arched. “Any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Have you done any analysis on this at all?”
“Of course I did. Carbon-based, warm-blooded life forms—also k
nown as mammals—have historically done pretty well on Sylvania. Why wouldn’t they thrive on our simulated planet too?”
“That’s your analysis?”
He hesitated. “There’s a bit more, but that about sums it up.”
Jem frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Did you also analyze the differences between our planet and theirs?”
“No, I’m leaving that to you. SimOne, implement selective evolution for the therapsids.”
The android nodded. “Executing.”
“No!” Jem shouted. “Damn it. SimOne, cancel the program.”
“The program has been executed and cannot be cancelled. Would you like me to selectively exterminate the evolved species?”
Jem turned on Kir. “You can’t just make unilateral decisions. We need to analyze the information and then agree on a decision together.”
“We don’t have the luxury of time. Haven’t you noticed? The planet’s revolving too fast. Thousands of their years go by in the time it takes us to finish saying a single sentence.
Jem ground her teeth. “That’s what plans are for. We put a plan together and then work off the plan.”
“Evolution complete,” SimOne interjected. “The species survived the process.”
Kir held up his hands. “See? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“They’re going to get crushed by the amphibians and reptiles,” Jem said.
“Not during winter, they won’t. SimOne, identify another division or branch that could be a suitable candidate for evolution into a different branch.”
The android responded immediately. “Subgroup Ornithodira appears to be a suitable candidate.”
“All right. SimOne, evolve it.”
“Executing.”
“Into what?” Jem asked, alarmed. “You can’t just kick the evolution program into high gear without giving it direction.”
Kir rolled his eyes. “As opposed to telling it what it already knows? The program wasn’t designed by a dummy. It’s not going to evolve something that is unlikely to survive.”
SimOne spoke again. “Evolution complete. The species survived the process.”
Kir wore a satisfied smile. “See, that’s two. We’ve just reduced our risk by half.”
“Your math skills are highly questionable,” Jem snapped.
“Warning.”
Jem looked up at SimOne.
The android’s blue eyes—sweetly vacant by design—suddenly sharpened. For the briefest instant, she appeared human. “Warning: volcanic eruptions in progress.”
“What?” Jem lunged toward the planet, but pulled her hands back in time. Touching the planet could trigger far worse things than just an eruption. “The flood basalts again?”
“Yes.” SimOne was briefly silent. Was she processing information from the planetary sensors? “Warning: mass extinction in effect.”
“No, no, no. Stop it!”
“Planetary disruptions cannot be halted. Global temperatures are rising sharply.”
“It’s happening again.” Jem sank to her knees and buried her face in trembling hands. How could this be? They had been so careful. She had been so careful. It had been going well—the planet was recovering—and now this? She wanted to hold someone responsible, but she knew it was not Kir or SimOne’s fault.
If only she could be as sure that it wasn’t hers.
“What’s the status now, SimOne?” Was that shaky voice hers?
“Speed of extinctions accelerating.”
What do you do at a time like this?
She felt Kir’s warmth beside her. If he had hesitated before reaching out, it was brief enough to escape her notice. “The planet made it the last time. It’ll make it again,” he said, his voice quiet.
She shook her head slowly, but did not tear her hands away from his. They were warm in the chill of the laboratory. “Is the planet going to keep doing this?”
“It’s the molten core,” Kir pointed out. “I’m not sure what you can actually do about it, other than request a new planet with fewer structural issues.”
Now, that was an idea.
They waited, seemingly interminably, but for no longer than a few minutes. “The planet has returned to equilibrium,” SimOne reported finally.
“What’s the final count?” Kir asked.
“Twenty percent of marine families are extinct. Fifty percent of terrestrial species are extinct.”
“Fifty percent?”
Jem stifled an ironic chuckle at the tension and disbelief in Kir’s tone. It was about time. His unflappable calm and happy-go-lucky attitude grated on her nerves.
She pushed to her feet. “I think I need a short break. You want something to drink, Davos?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things until the end of class.”
The sunlight warmed Jem’s skin as she sat on the grass in the lower quadrangle with a bottle of nutrition-infused water in her hand. All around her, students lounged on the grass in various states of consciousness. Some personal devices were on, but there was little pretense of study. It was a gorgeous day; there would be many of those through the fall, before the onset of winter.
She loved Itibar University. The buildings were magnificent and delightfully old-fashioned—stately white columns and sturdy red bricks—but that was part of its charm. Behind those ancient walls, technology gleamed, subservient to the needs of the humans they served.
If only planet 280-934-6253-4726-349573 could be as easily managed.
Jem had both facts and experience on her side. Through SimOne, they had incredible planetary management tools at their disposal. And yet, within a single week, they had managed to take the planet from extinction to extinction.
Damn it.
Jem shook her head as she activated her personal device and flipped through her notes. Where had she gone wrong?
Kir’s astral image popped up in front of her biology notes. “Hey, you might want to check this out.” His disembodied head turned to look back, presumably at the android. “SimOne, transmit the data to her.”
Jem reached out with two fingers, plucked the three-dimensional image of Kir’s head off from her notes, and moved it to one side. “So, what’s this?” she asked as she scanned the data feed from the sensor reports.
“The planet is repopulating. We lost most of the large amphibians and reptiles in the extinction, but the evolved Ornithodira are taking over the vacated terrestrial ecological niches.” Kir sounded not just smug. He sounded ecstatic.
She had to see it.
Five minutes later, Jem was back at the simulation laboratory, peering over their planet. She pulled her cardigan tightly around her shoulders to ward off the chill. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone sharper than she had intended.
Kir gave her a hard look, but did not comment on it. “The Ornithodira are diversifying, and some are growing to an incredible size. SimOne, can you pull up some images?”
Some of the Ornithodira were reptilian in form, bipedal with front feet that were little more than decorative appendages and teeth straight out of a nightmare. Others were even larger, each of their four feet larger than the trunks of the largest trees, their long necks balanced by equally long tails.
Jem shook her head in disbelief. Where had that diversity come from? Their sizes ranged from absurdly tiny to frighteningly large; herbivores, carnivores; bipedal, quadruped, and some shifting easily between both; elaborate displays, including horns and crests; skeletal modifications, including bony armor.
Kir peered over her shoulder. “The sensors are struggling to accurately track the count, but the estimate is close to four thousand genera.”
“Wow. That’s…that’s amazing,” she conceded. “But there’s just one problem.”
“And what’s that?”
“Your mammals are going nowhere.”
“I know. They’re restricted in both size and niche because the evolved Ornithodira have been so successful. But
hey, at least one of those evolutions paid off in spades.”
She rolled her eyes. “That would depend on what you’re trying to accomplish.”
“A living world?”
“That’s so unambitious. What about your original plan to have the mammals take over?”
“Look, we need to adapt to the situation,” Kir said.
“Even if it’s sub-optimal?”
“Could you be pursuing a perfection that’s just not possible?” he asked pointedly.
That question was always at the top of her mind, but she did not think she was jaded enough to give up on perfection just yet. Nothing short of a perfect world would win the competition. “We need more than the Ornithodira,” Jem insisted.
“We can’t control everything about this planet. We take what we get and run with it.”
Jem flung a hand out at the planet. “If you’re not planning to actively shape its direction, why did you evolve the therapsids and the Ornithodira? Why did you even join the simulation?”
“I told you. Risk diversification. You hedge your bets and then you let the game play out. This simulation isn’t about active intervention. How would you feel if God was always actively intervening in your life?”
“A whole lot better than if he were completely indifferent.”
“What about doing things for yourself?” Kir challenged.
“What the hell do you call this? I am trying to do things, as opposed to hedging my bets and then sitting around.”
“What about free will?” he asked.
“Free will?” Jem scoffed. “The evolved Ornithodira have brains the size of a pea. They barely have enough computing power to figure out where their next meal is coming from. SimOne is light years closer to free will than those creatures will ever be.”
“Thank you,” SimOne said simply.
“You’re welcome.” Jem turned her scorching gaze back on Kir. “The Ornithodira are not the future.”
“The rat-sized mammals aren’t the future either.”
“And they never will be as long as those monsters are stomping around.”