by Jade Kerrion
“You’re going about this all wrong,” Kir said.
Jem scowled. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Jem jumped at the sound of Professor Ptera’s voice. She looked over her shoulder as the professor strode past the gas giants and the asteroid belt. He stepped around the red planet and stopped next to their little planet with its single satellite. “SimOne indicated that there were some interesting developments on this side of the universe. Anything you care to share?”
“No,” Jem said.
“Yes,” Kir said at the same time.
Professor Ptera looked from Jem to Kir. “Well, which one is it?”
Kir looked at her. She refused to reply. She would be damned before she admitted to the professor that they could not even agree on a plan.
“We’re having a philosophical discussion on our approach,” Kir said finally.
“Ah, those are always fun,” the professor said, a youthful grin lighting up his face. “Where did you come out?”
“We haven’t yet,” Kir said.
“You should know that those philosophical disputes may never resolve. Some members of last year’s teams still aren’t on talking terms with each other.”
Jem resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, we’re well on our way to that same state, and it’s just the first week.
“There is a simple way around it, though,” the professor continued.
“Change teams?” Jem asked, speaking up for the first time.
“Well, that’s an option, but it’s not what I had in mind. You can split up the planet.”
“Someone take the land and someone else the sea?” Jem asked.
“Or split up the landmass. Spread it around the planet. That could give you a bit of breathing room from each other and buy you time to test various philosophical approaches to world planning.”
“Excuse me, Professor Ptera,” SimOne said. “Central command reports that planet 541-837-8503-2650-376057 has just launched an assault on planet 249-306-7463-6580-694038.”
“An interplanetary war? I have to watch that. Well, I’m off. Let me know if you have any other issues.”
“Any other issues?” Jem muttered once he was safely out of earshot. “Other planets are well into the space age and here, our dominant life forms have no brains worth mentioning.”
Kir shrugged. “I suppose that telling you that it’s not the destination but the journey that counts isn’t going to help much.”
“The journey is pointless if you don’t have a destination worth the time you’re investing in the journey.”
Kir looked at the planet. “So, shall we split this up?”
“Yes.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other in sulky silence. Kir then turned to the android. “SimOne, can you execute a separation of the landmass?”
“Negative. You need to do that.”
“Why?”
“The action required exceeds the bounds of my authorization.”
It was good to know there were things that androids could not, or were not allowed, to do.
Kir shrugged. “We can do this slowly and carefully.” He stepped around the planet to stand on the other side, across from Jem. “You hold the top. I’ve got the bottom. We’ll just pull it apart gently.”
Jem clenched her teeth. Her eyes narrowed with concentration as she gripped the top half of the landmass. Water from the oceans sloshed over the side of the continent. How many creatures had died from the tidal wave she had inadvertently triggered?
Kir looked up at her, his dark eyes unusually focused and intent beneath his mop of brown hair. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“All right. Gently now.”
The continent tore apart, slowly. The rift started in the east, the ugly gash deepening and lengthening as they pulled the continent apart. The ocean rushed in to cement the separation. Jem and Kir paused, looking at each other across a tiny sliver of land that held the two pieces of the continent together.
Just a bit more.
The last tug was the hardest, not physically but psychologically.
It was done. One continent was now two.
Jem tugged the piece she was holding toward the north, rotating it slightly as she pulled it through the water. On the other side of the planet, Kir carefully broke his continent into smaller pieces. One piece he sent drifting toward the pole.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Hedging my bets.”
“Careful,” she warned, her tone sharp. “One of those pieces is about to collide with mine.”
“Whoops, sorry.” Kir caught it in time. “Don’t want another accident.” He positioned it carefully and then stepped back. “It looks good.”
“It’s more interesting, that’s for sure,” Jem agreed. “SimOne, how long until the next basal flood eruption?”
“The planet is ecologically stable. There is a one point six three percent chance of volcanic activity large enough to result in another mass extinction.”
She sighed. Just when she needed a mass extinction, she was told that the odds were not good. Her portion of the planet needed a fresh start. She needed a fresh start. Surely, there had to be another way to trigger a mass extinction.
Jem turned to stare at the gas giants in their elliptic orbits around the yellow star. Her gaze fell onto the fragments of rock, spinning in the asteroid belt. She smiled as she picked out a few small rocks from the asteroid belt.
“What are you doing?” Kir asked.
“Giving mammals another chance.”
“We may not get another volcanic eruption for millions of planetary years,” he said.
“We don’t need to wait for one.” She tested the weight of the rock in her hand. It was little larger than a pebble, but it would be enough. “SimOne, are you ready?”
“To report on a dying planet? Yes, I am.”
She was going to file a complaint on whoever had decided to program sarcasm into androids. Jem inhaled deeply. Her plan could be a huge mistake, or the single largest turning point in the history of the planet.
The rock flew through the air, hurtling toward the planet, spinning and accelerating as it fell. It brightened into a glow as it burned through the planet’s atmosphere.
Kir squeezed his eyes shut. “SimOne, evacuate Niseag’s family.”
“Executing.”
“What’s Niseag?” Jem asked.
Kir flushed. “Just a name I gave one of the evolved Ornithodira that I adopted as a pet.” He winced as the pebble collided with the planet.
SimOne’s vacant eyes flashed brightly. “Infrared radiation killed all exposed organisms at the crash site. Mega tsunamis are sweeping across the adjacent continents. Global firestorms are igniting from the heat pulse and the fall back of incendiary fragments from the blast.”
Jem listened. At that point, it was all she could do.
“The dust cloud from the impact and sulfuric acid aerosols have reduced the light of the star reaching the planet by twenty percent. Photosynthesis is severely inhibited; the effects are likely to last for ten planetary revolutions around the star.”
It would devastate the food chain for herbivores and carnivores alike, resulting in mass extinction, for the third time in a week. Jem dragged her hand over her eyes. Surely it had to be a record.
Kir did not look at her. He stared down at the planet, his lips set in a tight line.
“Belemnoids, ammonoids, rudists, and inoceramids are now extinct. Fifty-seven percent of terrestrial plant species at the impact boundary are now extinct. All major mammalian lineages survived, though damage is much more severe at the impact boundary.”
“And the evolved Ornithodira?” Kir asked softly.
“The evolved Ornithodira are now extinct.”
“All four thousand genera?”
“A single avian group survived, as did Niseag’s family.”
Her
jaw tight and shoulders tense, Jem looked across at Kir. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. When he finally looked at her, the flash of energy and gleam of good humor were gone. “Are you happy now?” he asked with quiet bitterness.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned his back on her and walked out of the laboratory.
Damn it. She had upset her partner, and she still did not know if she had made the right decision for the planet.
Jem assessed the scar left by the pebble. She could separate her continent into two, and give one part a chance to flourish while the other healed. She pulled the continent apart vertically, neither evenly nor well. The edges trailed jaggedly, some smaller pieces breaking off into islands.
“Please advise on further actions for Niseag,” SimOne said.
The right thing to do would be to terminate it. Its species, its world, everything it had known, was gone, but Jem could not terminate it, not when it was all Kir had left to remind him of the world he had created.
Jem leaned in and peered at one of the northern islands. “That looks private enough. Relocate Niseag and her family to a suitable habitat on that island.”
“That will not work,” SimOne said primly. “Niseag is a cold-blooded reptile and requires warm, tropical waters. The average water temperature on that northern island is five point five degrees.”
Jem’s temper snapped. “You know what, SimOne, I’m tired of running into roadblocks. I want you to find a way to keep Niseag and her family alive out there. Evolve her.”
Was it her imagination or did SimOne’s blue eyes flash mutinously for a fraction of a second?
SimOne said, “Executing.”
Jem waited.
“Evolution complete. The species survived the process.”
Jem took a single step back. From her vantage point, the planet orbited serenely on its tilted axis. She could see the damage from the pebble, but life was returning, slowly yet inevitably, to its seven continents. Charred brown gave way to verdant green as photosynthesis started up again. The oceans shimmered, blue and inviting, beneath the scattered white clouds.
The planet still wasn’t much to look at, but it was her planet.
Hers and Kir’s.
Jem glanced at her personal device as it beeped a warning at her. She would be late for her next class on Aesthetics unless she left immediately. She rolled her shoulders to release the tension locked in her upper back. “Take care of the planet, SimOne. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Certainly.” The android moved closer to the planet. A rare smile curved SimOne’s lips as she looked down at the blue and white orb. The android’s eyes shone.
Jem chuckled to herself as she left the laboratory. Planet 280-934-6253-4726-349573 was their planet: hers, Kir’s, and SimOne’s.
3
The Cenozoic Era (meaning "new life," from Greek kainos "new," and zoe, "life") is the current and most recent of the three Phanerozoic geological eras and covers the period from 65.5 million years ago to the present. It is marked by the Cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event at the end of the Cretaceous that saw the demise of the last non-avian dinosaurs and the end of the Mesozoic Era. The Cenozoic Era is ongoing.
– Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
* * *
“How is it going?”
Jem looked up from her half-eaten sandwich and quickly slid her astral workstation back into her personal device. “Uh, it’s going well, professor.”
Apparently oblivious to the noise and chaos of the student cafeteria at lunchtime, Professor Ptera sat across from Jem without waiting for an invitation. “I like to check in with all the teams after the first week. If they have a handle on things by then, they’ll likely make it through the entire year.”
Scratch us out then.
He continued without missing a beat. “I reviewed the reports from the central command system. Your planet seems to be doing well.”
“Yes, we’ve only had three mass extinctions within a week. We’re aiming for four next week.”
He laughed. “Don’t get bitter too early. Your planet is a toddler in the grand scheme of the universe. Other teams may be embarking on interplanetary war, but that’s because they’re dealing with a dying planet or a dying star, and they need to get out to find a new home. On the other hand, you have a healthy young star and a healthy planet. For bonus points, there’s actually still life on it, the three mass extinctions notwithstanding.”
“Right.” Would the professor have thought the same if he had seen Kir’s face at the moment when the pebble smashed into the vulnerable planet? Jem twitched in her seat. “How do you know if you’ve made the right decisions?”
“You don’t usually, until the very end, and even then, the future may make liars of us all. I have a tip for your team, though. Slow it down.”
“Slow what down?” she asked.
“The simulation. It’s hard to make decisions quickly enough when thousands of years go by in a flash.”
“We can slow it down? But doesn’t it have to keep pace with other planets?”
“What gave you that impression? Time is as much a dimension as space, and they are both variable. Unless interplanetary travel is involved, you can choose to operate in a vacuum. Even if interplanetary travel is called for, the central command system can adjust and account for the rift in the time-space continuum.”
Damn. The craziness of the past week—making decisions and seeing their impact on a macro level across millions of years—had been completely unnecessary. Jem flushed. “You’re telling me I should have paid better attention in Physics class.”
“You can never go too far wrong investing time in understanding the rules that govern the universe. It’s hard to break them otherwise.” Professor Ptera pushed to his feet and nodded briskly. “Well, I need to keep moving to catch up with the rest of your classmates. I’ll see you at class this afternoon.”
Jem also shoved to her feet, flicking open her personal device as she gathered her belongings. “Find Kir Davos.”
“Locating…Kir Davos is currently in FIN-302 Financial Derivatives. Ames 259. The class is scheduled to end at thirteen hundred hours. His next class is SIM-709 World Simulation, beginning at fourteen hundred hours. Wilson 630.”
She could have waited for the campus transporter, but Kir’s class was not far. She ran from the cafeteria in Levering Hall to the Ames building and skidded to a stop as students spilled out of Ames 259. Kir was among the last to walk out. His animated conversation with another student fell silent the moment he set eyes on her.
The other student excused himself. “I’ll see you later, Kir.” He walked away.
“Hey,” Kir said with a jerk of his chin, which she supposed was intended to replace a handshake. He did not stop to talk.
She kept pace with him as he marched toward the student center at Levering Hall. “I wanted to talk before class.”
“I’m thinking of dropping the course,” he said.
“Why?”
“I thought it’d be a great learning experience. I wasn’t counting on it to eat up all my time, and completely stress me out in the process.” Kir shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept seeing the pebble hit the planet. I told myself it’s just a game, but it’s not working out like that in my head.”
“Niseag’s family is safe.”
“I know. I checked the planet’s archives the next day.” He paused and turned to look at her. “Thank you, but I still don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
“Look, Davos, it was just the first week.”
“Exactly, and I don’t think I can take two full semesters of this.”
“We’ve barely started, and I know we got off to a bad week, but think of everything we’ve learned so far.”
He snorted. “Such as avoid mass extinctions?”
“Yes, and the fact I excessively plan and you don’t, and the fact that you’re imminently more adaptable and I’m not. Maybe
there’s some way we can make it all work together.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment, and then he sighed. “I need some food. I can’t think on an empty stomach. Can we talk over lunch?”
“As long as it’s not a date,” she said.
“Trust me, we’re a long way from a date, Moran.”
Fifteen minutes later, they stared at each other across a tiny table in the cafeteria. “So, what is this plan of yours?” Kir asked after a spoonful of soup.
“Professor Ptera talked to me today,” Jem said.
“He did?”
Kir did not sound as surprised as she had expected. “Did he talk to you too?” she asked.
“Yesterday afternoon, when I went to the registrar’s office to drop the class.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. The registrar’s office said they couldn’t process it yet. Apparently, all drop requests have to be approved by the professor, and there were at least six people ahead of me trying to drop the class.”
Jem did not manage to disguise her snort of laughter in time.
Kir gave her a dirty look.
With effort, Jem wiped the smirk off her face. “So you went to see the professor?”
Kir nodded. “He asked me to stay, wait it out another week or two. It seems like the first week is the worst for most teams. He also said he’d review our archives and see if he could make any recommendations.”
“He had a recommendation when he came to see me earlier. Slow down the simulation.”
“But doesn’t our planet have to keep pace with the rest of the universe?”
“You failed Physics too, huh?” Jem asked.
“I got a C,” Kir said defensively.
“Apparently, the time-space continuum is less like a law and more like a gently worded suggestion. If we can slow down the revolutions, we’ll have time to make better decisions.”
“And interfere even more directly than you already have?” Kir asked.
She bristled. “This is a simulation, not a movie. If you want the latter, just drop the class and save us both the trouble.”
“This is a real planet. You can’t treat them like lab specimens. ‘Whoops, added the wrong chemical to the stew. Let’s just toss it down the drain and try something else.’ It doesn’t work like that.”