Future Vistas

by D. M. Pruden

  “It really hasn’t bothered me, Ben.”

  “I didn’t even ask you if you had a name. All I have done is call you ‘Computer’ because I was afraid to call you Gina. I guess I really have been screwed up for a long time.”

  “Gina is a fine name. I would be honoured if you called me that.”

  Ben sat in silence for the next ten minutes, working his plan over in his mind, reluctant to share it. How could he ever have confused the AI with the woman he loved? Yet it sounded like her, it thought like her. Why shouldn’t it? Hadn’t he paid a lot of money to make sure of that?

  Finally, much calmer, he said, “Gina, you are a sentient being and have a veto in what I am about to propose. I have no right to make the decision for you.”

  “Yes, Ben? Please continue. I am curious about what you are going to propose.”

  “I can’t let Natalie die. I can’t let any of them die. I want to use the trucking motors, our ship and all of the remaining fuel to push this asteroid into a different orbit. I want to try to save the planet.”

  “Ben, you realize that you will be committing yourself to die here, don’t you?”

  “Not just me. You’ll be doomed to stay here as well. I don’t know what will happen to you when the ship’s power fails. Do AI’s die?”

  “I do not know, Ben.”

  Neither of them spoke for a long time. Ben could only imagine what an inhuman sentient life form could be feeling about its own possible death.

  “Ben, I understand why you want to do this.”

  “Do you?” Ben wasn’t sure the AI did understand. Ben wasn’t sure he understood himself.

  “You want to save the life of your daughter.”

  “Yes.” Tears again began to fill his eyes as he recalled cradling his little baby girl in his arms.

  “You understand that she will never learn of your sacrifice?”

  “That’s not what is important. I hope you can understand?”

  “Yes, Ben. I understand. I am happy that you have come to the right conclusion.”

  ♢♢♢

  The weather was overcast as the last of the crowd began to disperse from the gathering. Deliverance Day was always a popular holiday and the memorial ceremony had been well attended again this year, despite the threat of rain. A small family remained behind. The monument they stood under consisted of a ten metre high stone, alleged to be from the Doomsday Asteroid, though Kate knew that it was not real, the original long since having fallen into the sun.

  Kate knew quite a lot about the original asteroid and the story surrounding it. Not the official story that was recited every year at the ceremony. She knew the real story, though she had long since stopped trying to tell it to her school mates who just dismissed it as another one of her fanciful tales about her great, great grandfather. 3G Ben, as this generation called him had long been a central character in the family history and his story was proudly told by all. It was recited every year on this day at the annual family gathering, and Kate looked forward to it again later tonight. It was the one event that bound the extended family together as no other could. Gina said that it made the family stronger and unique, having such a strong progenitor. Kate wasn’t sure what a progenitor was, but knew that it was something very important. It was what allowed her and everyone in the family to be a citizen in perpetuity (another big word that Gina used).

  Kate felt the familiar touch on her shoulder and turned to look at her care giver.

  “It is time to go, Kate. Please go and find your brother. He is playing over by the pond.”

  “Will you be coming to the gathering tonight, Gina?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Kate.”

  “Will you tell another story about 3G Ben? I so love your stories.”

  “Of course I will. Now please go and fetch Ben.”

  Kate gave the android a huge hug. Gina looked down at her and smiled warmly.

  As she ran off to fetch her little brother, Kate thought of how glad she was that Gina was involved in the their lives. She loved Gina and knew that Gina loved her and Ben and their parents, whom Gina had also cared for.

  Whenever asked, Gina would lovingly retell the heroic story of how 3G Ben, Gina’s Ben, had sacrificed his life for everyone now alive. She would tell how after completing the operation to redirect the asteroid towards the sun, Ben deactivated her. She would tell how the ship with her sleeping core and Ben’s body had been recovered on approach to earth three years later, emitting an old style radio signal. Gina would tell how the ship’s log recorded that Ben had set off an EM pulse to deactivate the mines and used the small amount of remaining fuel to push the ship off of the asteroid and into a long approach trajectory to earth. She would tell about the honours given to Ben and her; how she and the family were all granted perpetual, hereditary citizenship by a grateful planet that had miraculously evaded doom.

  Of course, the entire world knew this story. It was the official one that was told every year on this date. The stories that Kate was excited to hear Gina retell tonight at the gathering were the ones about the how the AI sought out Ben’s daughter, Natalie and delivered a personal message, the contents of which only great grandma Natalie ever knew. She would tell about the AI that came to become a part of the family and was there to raise each generation since. And, she would tell the story about the AI that fell in love with a human who occasionally mistook her for someone else. It was a good story; perhaps the best one. It was the one that the Kate really wanted to hear every year.

  The Curator

  It felt strange in his hands. The texture of the white object looked smooth but it felt rougher than he had imagined. He marvelled at its crisply defined edges. The markings on its face held no discernible pattern but were still beautiful.

  The object was almost two dimensional; a perfect parallelogram. He admired geometric perfection, especially when it was linked to something so enigmatic; especially when exhibited in something so old.

  All of this had, of course, been documented by previous curators. Each had taken the time to observe, describe, and speculate on its purpose. To the best of his knowledge none but he had been given the permission to physically examine it, making him unique.

  He pressed the object between his ancient fingers in the thin dimension. It yielded to the pressure, gently sprang back as he released it. He turned it over and determined that it must be made of a single unit of the material. The obverse of the object had subtle edges and appeared as if the material had been folded over itself from a single sheet and secured.

  No one but he had seen the obverse side in two hundred generations. He was as giddy as the day he had been accepted as a novice. He repented of his pride, making a quick act of contrition. Of all of his human weaknesses, pride was his most persistent sin.

  With one hand, his extended fingers held it by the crisp edges. He gently shook the object. His eyes opened wide and his heart raced as he set the artifact down, lest he drop and damage it. Something inside had moved!

  It was a container of some kind. That discovery alone could make him Abbott. But what was contained? The question burned as he sat transfixed by the object on the table. If he could learn what was contained he could be elevated to Bishop; perhaps even, God willing, the red hat of a prince of the Church could be his! He crossed himself and fervently uttered another act of contrition for his wanton ambition. He prayed that the Lord would forgive him and permit him to discover more wisdom; not for himself, but for the glory of God.

  For four thousand years the Church had guarded this artifact along with the few others that remained from the ancient past. For all that time this beautiful, simple parallelogram had sat, unexamined in it’s sealed case; its strange markings speculated upon; its purpose unknown. Four thousand years of ignorance had evaporated in that simple, incautious shake. He needed to know what was inside.

  As he held the object up closer to the light tears appeared in his eyes. The material was translucent! Somethi
ng was enveloped by the artifact; guarded by it. He gently placed the object on the table and for two hours sat and contemplated it. Lost in thought; lost in prayer; lost in guilt; absorbed in his pride and shamed by it. He struggled with the cascade of conflicting emotions as he regarded the object. It was silent, yet it spoke; called him to take the final step and look inside. Was God inspiring him to make ancient wisdom known to the remnant of humanity or was Satan tempting him to desecrate a holy artifact? He was tormented almost to tears by the conflict raging within.

  Finally, uttering prayers of protection and petitions for holy guidance to all of the saints that he could recall, he picked it up. Before he had a chance to change his mind, he selected a small knife and began to work open one of the sealed edges. His heart raced but his hands remained steady as he opened the artifact and looked inside. There it was; whatever it was, just within the reach of his shaking fingers. There was no going back now. He had desecrated a holy relic without permission. Whatever was within would elevate him or destroy him now.

  A shaking hand reached into the opened wound. He removed what was within and placed it on the table. Another parallelogram lay there, this one folded over onto itself. On its face were more of the mysterious markings, though more ordered in appearance and of different size. Below, a pictograph of a man in a red tunic with white trim around the edges of the sleeves. On his head he wore a stocking cap of the same colour, also trimmed in white. His face was obscured with a white beard and he had a large red nose. He was surrounded by a sea of white and behind him was a sled tethered to eight horned animals with cloven hooves.

  The curator did not know the meaning of this new object. All he knew was that its mystery would consume the next hundred generations of curators after him.

  Goodbye is not an equation

  I couldn’t take my eyes from the device. Twenty years was a long time to spend separated from the defining moment in your own life.

  “Staring at it isn’t going to make anything happen.”

  I stared at Boz and frowned. He smirked.

  “Thanks for pointing that out.” Dip shit. Funny how I can never work up the courage to say it to his face no matter how much he pisses me off. Since he arrived at the facility two weeks before it seemed everything he did annoyed me. Even though we shared a history as research partners for the past forty-nine years, he still managed to get on my nerves. Perhaps I should be married to him. At least, our bickering would make sense to others around us. The way things stood, they rolled their eyes and referred to us as the ‘old couple’.

  “I’m sorry, Glennis.” He placed a large wrinkled hand on my shoulder. I relaxed to the warmth of his touch. I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow and smiled.

  He avoided looking at me, his gaze moving around to everything in the room. “Want to get a cup of coffee?”

  “You mean the dishwater they serve in the cafeteria? No thanks.”

  “No, we should go to the local Java House in the residence wing and get you one of those fou-fou drinks you like.”

  I smiled. “The ones with a million calories? Sounds nice.”

  “It’s not like they matter now.” He broke into a goofy grin.

  Dip shit. In forty-nine years he never learned how to be appropriate.

  I put my arm under his and we strolled down the empty corridor. The size of the research station boggled my mind. The Middle of the Nevada desert gives a lot of room to spread out. When Boz and I first arrived at area 51 back in the day, most of this facility didn’t exist. Only the main research chamber and residence wing of what we knew remained. This modern monument to a bloated budget sprawled for two-hundred or more hectares, all of it fifty metres underground. Rumour held that it could withstand a nuclear strike and an entire secret wing was dedicated to housing whatever world leaders survived an armageddon. Of course, rumours always circulated around this base. In the almost thirty years we worked here, though, I never found where they kept the flying saucer or the little green men. I found it funny how that legend persisted, even after all the time since the appearance of the Others.

  I wrapped my hands around the steaming cup, and my cold fingers relaxed for the first time all day. Since my arrival I couldn’t seem to get warm. Despite turning the temperature in my quarters up as high as maintenance would let me, I didn’t do well at night. At night I would alternate between shivering and soaking the bed in sweat. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Two hours sleep wasn’t enough to function on.

  Boz’s eyes tracked every movement I made. He often did so, and little else when we visited; he sat with me and did not say a word, yet enjoyed every minute of our time together. At first I thought it weird, but after thirty-nine years, I became accustomed to it.

  “Why do you think they decided to turn it back on, Boz?”

  “The portal? They want somebody to walk through now.” When he engaged he had a different air about him. The critical, condescending attitude which irritated most people vanished and he spoke in an immediate and urgent fashion. His sharp mind always stimulated ideas in me. The dynamic made us successful research partners for the duration of our careers together.

  “I’m more interested in why no one ever walked back through the other way.”

  “It’s a one way door. Like the one they came through.”

  “You’re the worm-hole expert.” I loved to push him. If pushed the right way, the brilliance flowed out of Boz. I wondered if anyone would take my place.

  “They arrived fifty years ago out of nowhere. Amazing, isn’t it? They popped into being in the centre of New York City.”

  “Yes, three aliens popping into the middle of Times Square caused quite a stir, as I recall.”

  “Well, we can laugh about it now, but at the time the world collectively shit itself; Three, non-human creatures materializing in one of the busiest cities on the planet? Of course they were ignorant about 9/11 or anything else to happen since, or they might have shown a bit more discernment, don’t you think?” Boz’s hands waved about as he recalled the arrival of the visitors.

  “You, talking about discretion? That’s new, isn’t it?”

  We both laughed at the irony. Over forty-nine years, Boz showed little interest in being discreet. It almost ended his career on multiple occasions. I managed to smooth the ruffled feathers and make things right for him. I often wondered where either of us would be without each other.

  Despite his three doctorates, Boz’s reputation as someone impossible to work with caused him nothing but grief. Nobody on the team of scientists selected to collaborate with the Others wanted anything to do with him. After they recruited me, Boz became an integral member of the project through my moderating influence. My own eclectic background in medicine, molecular biology and psychology made me peripherally interesting to the lead scientist to begin with. My first hand experience helping to raise a brother with asperger’s syndrome cemented the deal. They assigned me to be Boz’s research partner and interpreter to the rest of the group. It is a testament to his brilliance management went to such extreme measures to find a way to make him fit in. Anyone else would have been fired and replaced with a less accomplished, but easier to deal with scientist.

  He stared at the hand stirring his coffee. “Do you remember when they first started building the thing?”

  “You mean the portal? Yeah, of course I do.”

  “I try to forget. It was not a good day.” His voice tailed off.

  He focussed on the act of moving the little swizzle stick around in the remains of his cup in a hopeless effort keep it warm with the kinetic energy he pumped into it.

  “What did you think they wanted to build? At first, I mean.” I hoped to get him engaged one last time.

  “At first?” He raised his head. “I thought it might be some kind of communications device; ET phoning home.” He loved to make references to old movies. “ Later they started to ask for the depleted uranium. That gave me the first clue; the amount of it. It’s obvious now; they n
eeded the mass, didn’t they? But then?”

  “The request sent the military into a complete tizzy.” I smiled at the recollection.

  “Yeah, it confused them. They did that to most people.” His eyes returned to his cup and he resumed his stirring.

  I touched his sleeve, “They didn’t confuse you. I recall, you figured out they wanted to build a wormhole.”

  His eyes shone like a shy school boy receiving a rare complement, “Well, I thought it apparent.”

  I shook my head, “Only you would view something like that as obvious.”

  We both sat in silence, two old people enjoying each others’ company.

  Boz took a sip of his cold coffee. “Two-hundred and forty-two.”

  “What?”

  His eyes became moist and his voice tightened. “It’s how many days later they stepped through the ring and vanished. They left. They didn’t say good bye.”

  “Yeah, some things can’t be said with an equation.” I rubbed his arm and reached up to wipe a tear from my eye.

  The Others, nicknamed Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail, communicated with us through mathematics. Flopsy took the most interest in Boz, spending hours at a time going over the incomprehensible math. The two of them sat together like grand masters playing a game of chess. He would enter an equation and wait while Boz considered it. After long periods of staring at the screen, Boz’s eyes would get wide as he understood what the symbols meant and he would compose a reply to which the alien would respond in far less time. I am sure they dumbed things down for us but I never thought they talked down to us. They tried to teach us something, and only Boz spoke to them at a level above ‘Hi there, how are you today?’

  Flopsy seemed to enjoy his encounters with my friend. He never spent more than an hour or two at a time with any of the other, brilliant mathematicians before he would break off the session and return to commune with his companions. When Boz worked with him, however, the interaction continued for days. Boz got angry with me when I terminated the sessions so he could get some sleep.