"The orbitals were their idea!"
"So? That didn’t stop Bush Junior from pulling out of the ABM Treaty, with Russia."
"Let’s just assume, for argument’s sake, that he manages this. That he somehow gets the US to break a major international agreement. Using an E-series for a Mars colony is not even technically feasible. Without the Earth’s magnetosphere, cosmic and solar radiation will kill everyone. And you can nudge the E-series. But, you can’t strap interplanetary engines on them. They’ll break."
"He owns the biggest, private, space engineering company in the world. Those are technical challenges, and he’s the world leader in solving technical challenges in space. You want to bet against him? The Mars Pioneers are sending a delegation to the UN in two weeks. They’re going to try to talk to the Russian, Chinese, and Indian ambassadors."
"Do you like New York?"
"I hate New York."
"That’s too bad. You’re going to New York."
Pennylane Coffee, outside the United Nations Headquarters, New York
"Thank you so much for coming, Ms. Shetty," the tall, attractive man stood up as she walked in, and shook her hand. "May I take your bag for you?"
The café’s walls were black and grey. Anjana handed him her bag and sat at his severe-looking table. The air was heavy with rich, roasted, coffee. She lay her crutch against the wall.
"Thank you. I’m glad you asked to meet away from the UN, Mr. Snyder. I don’t get to look around much whenever I visit."
"Do you like New York?"
"Even more than I like Calcutta.[xliv]"
"Then remember this place. The coffee is fantastic."
The barista took her order, walked to the door, and changed the sign to ‘CLOSED’.
"Oh, should we – "
"No, it’s alright. Once he makes your drink he’s stepping out to have a smoke or two. I wanted our discussion to be confidential."
A steaming espresso turned up in front of her. She held it with her winter-chilled fingers. The barista left, and she heard the back door shut behind him.
"Alright," she cleared her throat. "Let’s get down to business. Would you like to go first?"
"No that’s fine, this is your meeting," Sam smiled.
"Thank you. Mr Snyder, I understand you are here representing the Mars Pioneers Society. But that you also work for Sun Star Mining. You also are close to Mr. Daryl Spektorov, and are in charge of public relations for the Pathfinder Project."
"Guilty on all counts. And you are the special assistant to the High Commissioner on Refugees. And, if I may say so, a heroine."
She smiled, but shook it off. "Mr. Snyder, over in Chennai we can’t help but take note of the specs of Lowell City."
"Good. We were hoping you would bring that up."
"Sorry?" she frowned.
"I’m not going to hide it, nor was I instructed to do so. We wanted to talk to you about E8."
E8. "Well – why didn’t you just ask?"
"Because you wouldn't have taken us seriously. Ms. Shetty, The Pathfinder Program is in need of crew. However, we won’t be sending any. It’s just too impractical. Instead, we want to send their skills, their experience, their personalities."
"What?"
"It’s complicated, and let’s not go there right now. Suffice to say, we need the right people. However, we can’t just ask for candidates who are willing to leave Earth. We need people who would actually see that through. Anyone else would have the wrong make up, the wrong attitude."
"You want them to have the ‘Right Stuff.’"
"Exactly. There’s only one way to separate the men from the boys if you’ll excuse the gendered terms. That way is to actually send a colony mission. And so, we picked Mars."
"Wait - are you saying this whole thing with Mars – is a seriousness test?"
"Mars is the most hospitable place in the solar system, after Earth. It’s been in our imaginations since before we named it. One way or the other, it will be the next world humans live on. Yes, Mr. Spektorov’s primary interest is colonizing Mars, as an exercise. He’s not ashamed of that, nor should he be. Mars is an important stepping stone to all new worlds. As a species, we need the experience if we’re going to expand."
"As a species, we need E8 if we’re going to survive. I’m sorry but this is a bit dramatic don’t you think? Why can’t you just send over a hundred people with some pressure domes? Why send them to Mars at all? You could just train in the desert, or Antarctica. Since you expect to find life, why not use a jungle island?
"There’s no need for the largest space structure to ever be built. Just think of the risk involved. If something goes wrong, do you want E8 twenty light minutes from Earth? At that distance, all we could do is send undertakers and wreaths. Lowell City collapses under its own logic, Mr. Snyder. Before you send it, you need to send an expedition. Once you send the expedition, you don’t need to send Lowell City."
"And that’s fine with us."
She stared at him. "What?"
"It doesn’t matter if we ever use E8. It doesn’t matter if we even go to Mars. We just need people to believe that we will. We’ll select and train a pilot group of volunteers. After a couple of years, we’ll have all that we need. Then, the program gets cancelled."
"You want to – you – you want to lie about a Mars program?"
"Listen very carefully, I’m about to make you an offer. There are more than 10 billion people[xlv] in the world now, Ms. Shetty. Most of them are in Asia and Africa. Asia isn’t doing too well, and Africa is a hell hole. Climate change has gut-punched the planet, things aren’t improving any time soon. The superpowers are trying to resettle the most desperate in space. That’s where you come in. You’re averaging 8,000 people a year. Next year, that goes up to about 10,000 a year. You with me so far? Any disagreement?"
"No. Where are you going with this? You need to answer my question."
"The world population is growing by about 200,000 a day.[xlvi] You need ten E8s a day, just to maintain current desperation. At current trends, things don’t end well this century. The challenges many nations face, are existential. Many are not going to make it."
"It’s my job to know these things. What’s your point?"
"There’s a way out. Von Neumann technology."
"Von Neumann machines are illegal."
"We want to develop them."
"Von Neumann machines are illegal!"
"You want to soak the carbon dioxide out of the air and water? Put reflectors up to cool the planet? Melt trash heaps and plastic islands into food and fuel? You’re not getting that done any other way. Nanotechnology, 3d printing, and artificial intelligence. They’re all here, right when Humanity needs them the most. With them we can save both the world, and our lifestyles."
"Our lifestyles? That’s what’s important?"
"We’ve already given up beef, for chicken. You want to move on down to insects? Cause they’ll be fine dining in another fifty years. The world uses 27 terawatts of energy, a year. The sun pours down 89 terawatts on Earth, a day. If we build self-reproducing machines, we can tap that energy. Deserts covered in solar fields. Sea water distilled into fresh water. Carbon locked into graphite corals. You want to do this, it’s best you do it right."
"You’re just not listening to me."
"I am listening, Ms. Shetty. You said it’s illegal, and I’m pointing out that’s the least of our concerns. The world needs Von Neumann machines, and so does the Pathfinder Program. Without them, the mission will never succeed. So here’s my offer. If you let us have E8, we’ll develop and give you Von Neumann technology. It’ll still be illegal. But, you’ll have working, reliable, technology, and all our designs. Right now, people rightly fear of out of control machines destroying the planet. However, we already have those, we call them human beings. As things get more desperate, people will change their minds. Before they’re used on Earth, they’ll be trialed in space. That’s where you’re getting your ten E8s a
day. Or hundred E8s. It’s up to you.
"All we ask, is that you publically endorse Lowell City. Ask the Mars Pioneers to join as consultants. Keep it your program, keep control of E8. Just let us maintain the appearance of a Mars mission. When we’re done, cancel Lowell, and carry on. We’ll need you to do this for about two years, maximum three."
"You’re developing Von Neumann technology?"
"Not yet. We’re going to find a way to do it legally. At the very least, I’ll find a grey area. Because of the legal risk, we’re putting it off. There are many other key technologies that we need. Without any single one of them, the mission becomes impossible. We’ve done well in these areas. If the UNHCR gives us what’s needed, we’ll move on the VN question next."
"I’m sorry Mr. Snyder, but the Office of the High Commissioner is not getting involved in some overly elaborate scam in exchange for the dubious promise of illegal technology," she stood up and grabbed her crutch.
"If you turn me down, we’ll actually take E8 from you."
"Excuse me?"
"In the long run, it’s actually the better business decision. We would have to spend a great deal to secure it, and then even more to set up a real program on Mars. But we would make it all back a hundredfold on Martian land and resources."
"Just who do you think you are?"
"Our support in Congress is growing. E8 is an American construction. We’ll make the case that it’s time to focus on American space needs."
She stared at him, wordless.
"I’m making you a good offer. You need to be rational about this."
"People like you can’t imagine not getting your way. You go ahead and try. You tell Money Bags to give it his all, because he’s going to need it."
Snyder shook his head. "It’ll be your loss. Just promise me you’ll think it over."
She limped out of the café. The barista was outside, he smiled and nodded, and went back in. The bell tinkled, and the sign was flipped to OPEN. Anjana kept walking down 45th till she passed the UNESCO building.
She leaned against the wall, and pulled out her phone. The cold wind made her eyes tear.
"Hello, is this the FBI? Please connect me to the Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate."
Jansen Henrikson, III
"There's something very wrong with the Lowell City program."
Henrikson looked up from his screen. Doctor Dethier was in the doorway, printouts in hand.
"What?"
"Lowell City," she shook her printouts. "You need to see this." She closed the door behind her and sat.
"Well, I suppose I'm going to have to, now. What's wrong with it?"
"What isn't wrong with it? This is what I found out about the program director they just hired, Patrick Schulte." she handed him a sheet.
"Why didn't you just email me these?"
"I don't want people to know, that I know."
"Charming."
She jabbed at the sheet. "Look at Schulte's qualifications."
Henrikson studied the sheet. He read it again more slowly, and frowned.
"He's not a scientist or an engineer."
"He's not even a science fiction writer! He's a corporate lawyer, specialization in intellectual property. He's never done anything to do with space, let alone Mars. Never. You and I both know excellent candidates that applied for this. The first woman on Mars, applied. But they picked a lawyer, who showed no previous interest or experience."
"Maybe HR just made a really bad pick."
"This got me thinking, so then I looked closer at the program," she handed him a stapled set.
"What's this?"
"Where the money is going."
He leafed through it. "Astronaut Candidate selection and trials. What's odd about that?"
"Do you hire pilots before you've even designed the plane? Look at what's not there. There's nothing about the design for Lowell City, except those pretty artistic impressions in the press packet."
"I've seen the press kit, it gives the internal surface area for Lowell."
"Then where is the design, which shows it? There isn't one. Not a spreadsheet, not a paper napkin, nothing. But this here," she pulled out a document, "Is a budget for setting up a training camp at Devon Island, in Canada. Those pictures were taken by someone they flew out there."
Henrikson said nothing. "Maybe they're just - "
"Stupid? Cart before horse?" said Dethier. "No. This is a complete lack of strategic attention to the final product. And this from a businessman who likes to talk about hundred year plans."
"I don't think Spektorov is closely involved with this."
"How could he not be? He is a micromanager. He would be here looking at your screen if he could understand the mathematics. Spektorov knows."
Henrikson put the stack of papers down. "What do you think is going on here?"
"I don't know enough to say," she shook her head.
"You mean you're not comfortable saying. Neither am I. Let's keep looking and see what we can learn. Ingrid, don't tell anyone about this."
Suyin Lee, Evan Stockwell, III
Indian Ocean, 50,000 feet
"You think the stewards on this flight will get me a gin and tonic? How about that one, the guy cleaning his assault rifle?"
Stockwell unclipped his seat belt and stretched. The old, Air China, A330 had been refitted for cargo carrying. The remaining seats had PLA and MSS[xlvii] agents, looking uncomfortable in civvies. Suyin Lee stood before them, beside a huge, LCD screen. Speaking Mandarin, she swiped through slides, diagrams, and satellite maps. Pictures scrolled of choking streets, dark-skinned people, and old colonial buildings.
"I especially appreciate the non-invitation to the monolingual briefing, right over there."
"Suck it up; they’re doing us a favor. The less we know about what they’re doing, the less troublesome a position it puts our government in."
"Then we shouldn’t have bothered coming at all if they’re not going to involve us. What was the point?"
"So, what do you know about Sri Lanka?" Pirello changed the subject.
"Jack and shit. What do I need to know?"
"I read them up while you were sleeping. Sri Lanka is a former British colony. Bloodless independence – the British were downsizing. As could be expected, decolonization just took its due, later."
"Civil war?"
"It lasted almost thirty years. Coming out, they borrowed money they couldn't repay, from China. Now, they're a Chinese colony."
"Smooth move, Sri Lankans."
"The Chinese have facilities all over the country. Including a naval base, right next to the capital, Colombo."
"One of those naval bases they surround with malls and five star hotels?"
"Just the same."
"And the Sri Lankan were okay with that?"
"I don't think they even realized that China builds bases that way. Anyway, it completes the String of Pearls[xlviii]. It allows them to contest the Arabian Gulf with us. They can protect or deny oil supplies, and contain India. They can even fly air strikes against our own Indian Ocean base, at Diego Garcia."
The Chinese agents started clapping at something Lee said.
"So if they're in charge, why does it look like -" Stockwell looked around and then whispered, "-like they're planning a secret operation?"
Pirello eyed the Chinese briefing. "I think it’s awkward for them."
"Why should it be? ‘Hi! We’re here to catch a terrorist. Can you help us? Thanks! We’ll take him away now. Thank you such much for your trouble! Here, have another loan! Have two!’ That’s it. It doesn’t make sense that they’re not telling the Sri Lankans what’s going on."
"It does, if you don’t trust the Sri Lankans."
"Why not trust them?"
"This is Asia, Stockwell. You want to buy a cop, check your wallet, not your bank account. Al-Moussawi might have picked Sri Lanka for the protection corruption gives him. Also, Sri Lanka gets a lot of Middle Eastern tou
rists. No one will think twice if he plays the rich Arab brat."
"Really? That’s it?"
"I think so. Cronyism and Old Boy networks are big in this part of the world. You can’t root out corruption if you give it shelter. It just keeps coming back."
"We’ve got corruption problems too."
"Yeah, but not like these guys do."
"Have you seen Congress?"
"Look, I don’t want to get into a debate on Western versus Eastern corruption. But I do think the Chinese don’t want to lose this guy. They’re taking no chances, he’s the only lead."
Meng, the guilty-faced analyst, got up by the screen. He nodded to Suyin and started talking. She stepped back and looked over at Stockwell. He smiled, waved, and mimed "HI!" till she looked away again.
"Now," Stockwell leant back, "What about us in all this?"
"We do what Likavec says and keep our heads down."
"Fuck that. We’re here to do a job."
"And when the Sri Lankan government asks our ambassador what Americans are doing on a covert operation in their country without their knowledge, what happens then? We have orders, Evan."
"I didn’t leave DC to go Still-Third World sightseeing."
"Our job is to help stop Jemaat Ansar. We’ve done our part, let the Chinese do theirs. If they want to risk a diplomatic incident, it’s on them. Frankly, I respect their commitment to catch this guy. Just the two of us going to Colombo with them as liaisons, was a big concession."
"Liaisons? More like tokens. Freaking Chinese, always got to have a token white guy around. And now I’m that token white guy!"[xlix]
People turned and gave them looks.
"Quiet. At least we’re here as a resource to them. You’re the resource. Their STS computer asked for you. I’m just your minder."
Stockwell peered back at the briefing. "They look like they’re winding down, and Suyin’s clearly done. I’m going to go try and be a resource to her."
Pirello looked worried. "Do you have to? She always looks at you like she’s about to kick your ass."
"It’s not my ass she hates, it's Freedom."
"So the good news is," Suyin stood by the screen, hands on her hips, "That we have twenty Southwest Falcons with us, going into Sri Lanka!"
The Hundred Gram Mission Page 15