by Taiyo Fujii
Ricky squeezed his fist resting on the counter with all his might. Heat rose up inside him, a feeling surging up from the pit of his stomach that was fundamentally different from what he felt when he was ordered into combat.
Judy raised her quivering middle finger and thrust it toward the camera. “If you’ve got a problem with us,” she said, “then bring it on!”
The bar was enveloped in cheers, and glasses were raised high all around. Ricky stood up with the crowd and dove into the pandemonium with mug in hand. She’s right, he thought. We can’t let these people off the hook. So hold on, Judy and Ronnie. Ricky’s coming to take that thing out for you.
Tue, 15 Dec 01:14 -0800 (2020-12-15T09:14 GMT)
Western Days Hotel
Despite the lateness of the hour, the suite filled with the sound of Chris, Daryl, Kazumi, and Akari clapping. Chris was impressed with Judy Smark’s courage. It was an incredibly rare sort of person who could speak out so defiantly when in the line of fire, especially in the vacuum of space where staying alive was a tightrope walk to begin with. Chris felt certain that the many viewers who’d tuned in to the live broadcast from around the world had found it as moving as she had.
“Judy’s incredible,” said Chris. “But she’s just putting on a strong face, which I guess you’ve all noticed already.”
Kazumi, Akari, and Daryl nodded.
If they could prove Kazumi’s tethercraft hypothesis, the two orbital hotel guests would inevitably learn that the Rod from God weapon was a feint, a phantom that didn’t actually exist. Chris wished that clearing up this confusion for the Smarks might bring them relief, but she and her team were certain that this would not be the case.
“Chris,” said Daryl, “you don’t seriously think that Seed Pod—”
“Let’s talk about that later,” said Chris.
Today, the second stage of SAFIR 3 had entered a rendezvous orbit with the orbital hotel, meaning that Operation Seed Pod would move into action. Chris didn’t want the team to know about this, as the operation was based on assumptions that were directly contrary to their hypothesis. Seeing it implemented could have an impact on their motivation. Instead, she thought it was crucial that the team stay out of Seed Pod altogether. Their job was to figure out what the swarm of space tethers’ next move would be once it had kicked the SAFIR 3 along in orbit and brought it into rendezvous position.
“Kazumi,” said Chris. “If the tethers were to attack the orbital hotel directly, what do you think would happen?”
“They would rip it to shreds,” Kazumi replied after a short pause. He explained that the terminal apparatuses were moving many times faster than a bullet from a rifle and could easily pierce the outer shell of the hotel. “The same thing would happen to the ISS or Tiangong-2.”
“If we wanted to stop them … where would be the best place to start?”
Chris pointed to the whiteboard. After their three-hour-long meeting earlier, it was covered in a list of various tasks. In addition to items proposed by Kazumi such as “Investigate potential of space tethers,” “Examine Prof. Jahanshah’s paper,” and “Observe actual space tethers,” the list also included a mission proposed by Akari: “Seek identity of terrorists.”
“Is it really okay for me to decide?” asked Kazumi.
“Just say what you think,” said Daryl, patting Kazumi on the shoulder. “Then we’ll decide after that. Let’s be grateful we have a boss to take care of us now.” Daryl pointed at Chris with his thumb.
Chris found herself smiling wryly. Daryl wasn’t exactly showing the disciplined attitude of a soldier, but he was helping to lighten the mood.
Kazumi laughed and pointed to a section of the whiteboard. “Understood,” he said. “In that case, I think we should start by making observations.”
“I agree with Kazumi,” said Daryl with a nod. “However, we haven’t succeeded in making observations with NORAD’s radar.”
“But Mr. Cunningham was able to observe them at his observatory, right?” said Kazumi.
Daryl leaned forward. “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I don’t understand. Why can’t we see those guys? In case you didn’t know, NORAD’s radars are used to observe debris as well. It’s a solid network.”
“Hmm …” said Kazumi.
“Would it help to know what equipment Ozzy Cunningham uses?” asked Chris. She jerked her chin toward her desk. “Akari, can you connect my computer to the projector?”
Akari stood up and connected a palm-sized substrate to Chris’s laptop. Immediately, her screen was projected onto the whiteboard. If Chris remembered correctly, the tiny device was a single-function computer kit called a Raspberry Pi. During their meeting, Akari had finished configuring several of the many that she had purchased so that they would function as display repeaters. Chris wondered where she’d acquired such astounding engineering proficiency.
“We haven’t signed an official contract,” said Chris, “but please don’t disclose anything you learn during this operation. If you leak anything, you could serve up to twenty-five years in prison.”
Chris opened a list of the Desnoeufs Island observational equipment extracted from the emails of Ozzy and his equipment suppliers. She caught Akari muttering “PRISM” and said, “This is just a taste,” with a wink. In order to read Ozzy’s emails, Chris was fairly certain that the PRISM information-gathering project leaked by Edward Snowden was being used. Not even Chris knew the full extent of the national surveillance network created by the CIA and NSA, however.
Daryl glanced at the screen and cried, “A Sampson-5!” kicking his chair as he got to his feet. “That’s no radio telescope. It’s a military-spec air defense radar!”
“Cunningham is a major investor in the manufacturer,” said Chris. “He even received one of their test models.”
“This isn’t the sort of thing that civilians should have in their possession,” said Daryl. “I hope he knows how to use it correctly. If you make a mistake, it has enough output to burn someone to death.”
Chris explained that on the island of Desnoeufs that Ozzy owned, he was deploying a Sampson-5 multifunction active phased array radar on a flat surface. Though often mounted on Aegis-equipped ships and ground radar sites, Ozzy used it to track orbital objects.
“This is supposed to be for his hobby?” said Daryl when he’d heard all this, resting his head in his hands. “Unbelievable …”
“A man named Johansson Ashleigh is in charge of operating the radar. Cunningham calls him ‘Friday.’ Another amateur.”
“Mr. Cunningham didn’t specify a threshold, huh?” said Kazumi.
“For what?” asked Chris.
“Size,” Kazumi replied. “NORAD’s debris-monitoring radars use noise reduction, right?”
“… So that’s it!” said Daryl. “Good point. They’re configured them not to detect anything 10 cm in length or less in low Earth orbit. With the Sampson-5 set to its performance limit, it can track objects as short as 2 cm from 2,000 km away. Usually it’s not operated like that, because it would just get cluttered with noise.”
“Is it possible to turn off the noise reduction on the NORAD radars?” asked Kazumi.
“Not right away,” said Daryl with a shake of his head. “That would interfere with management of air traffic control and air defense networks.”
Now is the time to show them what the CIA can do, thought Chris and, putting on an air of nonchalance, raised her hand. “In that case, what if we borrow Mr. Cunningham’s radar?”
“We could do that?” asked Daryl.
“I’ll ask nicely. So when should we get going on our observations?”
“Fantastic! Still, processing observational data filled with noise will take time.”
Akari raised her hand. “Leave that to me,” she said. “If we’re talking about Cunningham’s data, I can process it in real tim
e. I thought we might need parallel processing, so I bought lots of the higher-powered Raspberry Pis, the FPGA model. I can track any number of those things in the tens of thousands.”
“Great,” Daryl muttered, and returned to his seat where he woke up his desktop.
Already, Akari had connected up a virtual private network with NORAD. Chris could sense sure signs that the team had begun to work organically.
“The observation date and time—” Daryl was just about to input some numbers, but suddenly his hands stopped and he looked in the direction of Kazumi. “Did you say something?”
Kazumi was holding his index finger out in front of his body and swaying it. With his eyes half-closed, murmurings of Japanese leaked from between his barely open lips. Like Daryl, Chris found herself unable to peel her eyes away from this odd behavior.
“The orbital hotel … To make the inclination thirty-four degrees … Before, wrong. No tether has such propulsion …”
Noticing their puzzled looks, Akari whispered, “He’s doing calculations.”
Kazumi opened his eyes wide and put his finger on Daryl’s display. “Tomorrow, starting at twelve o’clock our time, 1600 GMT, SAFIR 3 will pass over Cunningham’s island. It should be surrounded by space tethers.”
Still staring at Kazumi, Daryl managed to squeeze out the words, “What’s that?”
“SAFIR 3 will rise from west-northwest in pursuit of the hotel. Let’s have Ozzy make an observation there.”
“Can I just confirm that?” said Daryl. When he right-clicked on a globe and input the time, two overlapping lines revolved around the Earth, cutting across the Indian Ocean from diagonally above. “… His guess is right on. The orbital hotel will indeed cross the Indian Ocean tomorrow afternoon.”
“Great,” said Kazumi, leaning back against his seat.
Taking note of Kazumi’s reaction, Daryl swiveled his chair and looked at Chris. “Chris, please allow me to be Kazumi’s assistant. He can fly orbital objects in his head. I’ve never met anyone who can do anything like this. If we’re going to follow this unknown spacecraft, we’re going to need Kazumi’s ability. I’ll do my best to utilize it to its fullest potential.”
“Okay, Daryl,” said Chris. “You’re his assistant now.”
Flashing a white smile, Daryl patted Kazumi on the shoulder and gripped his hand. “Kazumi, from now on all you need to do are approximate calculations. I’ll take care of checking them over and dealing with other technological considerations. Just leave it to me!”
We’re truly blessed, thought Chris. She was stunned by Kazumi’s ability to do orbital calculus in his head, but more than that she was glad of his rare personality, which allowed him to earn Daryl’s trust even though they had only just met that day.
Watching Kazumi and Daryl shake hands, Akari turned to Chris and said, “The CIA’s power is amazing. I mean, you can just borrow someone’s telescope like that.”
“I’m relying on Kazumi and you to persuade him. Of course, I’ll step in if he gives us any trouble.”
“I see. In that case, can you help me with my ‘observation’ too?”
“What’s that, dear?” said Chris, and immediately regretted responding in a tone of voice one might use for a child. She blamed it on Akari’s boyish, shaved-head look and awkward English. But Chris knew she shouldn’t let appearances throw her off. Akari was a full-grown woman and a master engineer.
Akari did some maneuvers on her keyboard and sent a message to Chris’s laptop containing a phone number, an IP address, and a MAC address for a network card.
“This is the phone number and other information used by the terrorists. I acquired it in Tokyo,” explained Akari. “I figured out that they’re using China Mobility roaming SIM cards and a Fu Wen portable Wi-Fi hotspot. My guess is that they throw away the SIMs when they’re done with them.” Behind her display glasses, Akari’s eyes sparkled keenly.
Akari could see right into the criminal agents’ way of life. SIM cards and devices used under contract with cell phone companies such as AT&T were easy enough to track down. A smart method to avoid that risk was to use roaming cards sold by foreign cell phone companies and dispose of them periodically.
“I want the geographic data showing where those signals were sent,” said Akari. “I wonder if the CIA would have access to that.”
“Suppose you had that information,” said Chris. “What would you do with it?”
“Start a war.”
“A war?”
“I’m very sorry. Vocabulary—words, I didn’t use enough of them. I want to perform wardriving. I’ll lay honeypots in the city. Seattle is too big. I want to narrow it down.”
Akari’s strategy rendered Chris speechless. Wardriving. A hacking method where you roamed the streets scouting out wireless networks. The goal was to seek out portable Wi-Fi hotspots with specific network names. Now Chris saw why Akari had bought the bicycle: to cruise around the city. And Chris agreed that it would be more efficient to focus the search around the location where the phone was used.
“Kazumi will be looking for the space tethers, right?” said Akari. “I am going to expose the terrorists.”
Here was the second blessing. Akari was even more of a find than Chris had imagined. When Bruce arrived from Los Angeles tomorrow, Chris decided, she would make him Akari’s assistant.
“Okay. I’ll have CIA headquarters look into it. Akari, you have free reign to do as you will.”
Unbelievable that these two, Kazumi and Akari, have been reduced to doing contract web design, thought Chris. What’s happened to Japan?
2020-12-15T10:00 GMT
Project Wyvern
Today I had my first shower in three days. Incredibly, in this hotel we can even have hot showers. The Wyvern Orbital Hotel has been fitted up with thousands of unprecedented bells and whistles, but this is the one that I like best.
In free fall (is it okay to say “without gravity”?), water becomes a very strange sort of animal. If you let it out slowly, it gloms around the showerhead due to its surface tension. If you turn up the tap, droplets remain floating in the air. Anyone who entered such a room would drown.
Thankfully, the Project Wyvern engineers came up with a method to solve this problem. Introducing the “Showerpot”! Get inside a pot like a steel drum with your head sticking out and wash your body with the hot water that comes shooting out inside. Then, when it’s over, use pressurized air to blow away the water and a hairdryer to dry off. Finis.
After waiting three whole days, it was the greatest shower I’d ever had. I’m looking forward to using the “Shampoopot” tomorrow.
What I’m getting at here is that a stay on the Wyvern Orbital Hotel is very natural. Compared to the astronauts working away on other space stations, this is an environment of true luxury.
Yes, luxury indeed. I’m fully aware of the implications.
Take measures to combat global warming, or medicine, or agriculture, for instance. I wonder how many people in need could have been helped with the money used to bring me here. Even I had my doubts about the project when I heard that the Showerpot, whose sole purpose is to provide comfort during our stay, cost $200,000 to develop (wow, is that all?) and $450 each time we use it. In the end, though, my heart was swayed by Ronnie’s vision of spending time in space just as we normally do on Earth—of showing the world that this is possible—so I decided to set out on this trip with him, even though we hadn’t spoken in fifteen years.
Did the Apollo program prevent famine? Did a shuttle? Maybe not directly.
But the portrait of the Earth, Earthrise, that we imagine when we think about our planet was a photograph taken by Apollo 8 as they made their way to the moon. In the Cold War era, when we were at each other’s throats with nuclear weapons, that frail image of our home in the solar system floating in the blackness of space had the power to bring u
s all together.
Earthrise was taken by a soldier. The privilege of conveying the beauty of the Earth floating in emptiness was reserved for an astronaut who had taken many years of special training. If many more regular people came to see the Earth with their own eyes, then think how much easier it might be for us to consider the good of all.
Everyone, come to space!
I feel much better after writing this. Though I kind of regret giving the finger during that television broadcast.
Just when I thought everyone was beginning to forget me as a slobbering zombie during the launch, I did an image search for “Judy Smark” just a moment ago, and all I got were pictures of me with my middle finger up. Ronnie liked it so much he had them stick it on the top page of Project Wyvern’s site.
To everyone writing articles, you can download an official press kit from this blog.
Judy Smark, sophisticated lady despite appearances
9 Great Leap
Tue, 15 Dec 2020 17:14 +0400 (2020-12-15T13:14 GMT)
Desnoeufs Island
The bluing glow of the sky outside colored the room, except for a single table lit up with dazzling brightness by a pendant light overhead. On the table was an array of plates, and on the plates was food so hot the steam still rose from it. Glancing at the clock on the wall to confirm that it was evening, Ozzy twirled a generous ball of spaghetti and sauce onto his fork and brought it to his lips. The tart taste of tomato filled his mouth. At long last, Friday had made him some pasta.
“Excellent!”
Pure-white teeth danced before him. Friday sat at the opposite end of the table, naked to the waist, hands clasped together into a two-handed fist.
“What?” asked Ozzy finally.
“That is fish, Mr. Cunningham.”
Ozzy lowered his gaze to his plate. There, immersed in the pasta sauce, was a familiar-looking red fish—and that white tentacle beside it was squid.
“What the hell are you feeding me?!” Ozzy threw his fork away.