Doug didn’t tell the others about his decision yet, but now he spoke quite loudly. Maria and Sebastiano were probably clever enough to figure this out. “Sebastiano, are you ready for an EVA?” he asked.
“Just a moment, boss, I’m putting on my helmet now.”
The Italian had not even put on the lower part of his suit yet. In spite of it he slid his helmet over his dark, curly hair.
“Reporting for duty,” Sebastiano then said. His voice sounded muffled, because he was using the helmet radio. Anyone experienced in spaceflight would guess that the man was really wearing his helmet at the moment.
“Okay then, into the airlock with you,” Doug commanded. He simultaneously made a ‘stop’ gesture with both hands.
Sebastiano signaled ‘okay’ with his thumb and index finger and then answered, “Yes, boss, preparing airlock for EVA.” He moved toward the airlock entrance and opened the hatch, which made a squeaking sound. Very good, Doug thought, even the ship is playing along. He gave Sebastiano another stop signal, but the cook already knew what to do. He closed the hatch again and opened the cover of the control panel next to it. This allowed him to manipulate the outer hatch.
“External team to commander,” Sebastiano said via helmet radio, “We are ready. Pressure discharged from airlock.”
“Perfect,” Maria said. “Be careful. I am opening the outer hatch now.”
Doug kneaded his fingers. This was the decisive moment. Sebastiano pressed the key for the opening mechanism. A powerful motor started up, moving the locking wheel of the outer hatch. This had to be visible from the unknown object. In a few seconds their bluff would be revealed, because the airlock was empty.
“I am asking you to stop the EVA,” the voice said from the loudspeaker. Nobody gave an outward sign. Sebastiano stopped the opening mechanism.
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Maria said over the radio.
“My name is Watson. Dr. Watson, to be exact. That’s what you wanted to know.”
“And the spaceship you are in?” she asked.
“Oh, I built it myself, due to an emergency.”
“Is that why you didn’t implement the standard protocols?”
“Yes.” The voice paused for a moment. “May I ask whom I am speaking to?”
“Maria Komarova, pilot of the mining spaceship Kiska. We are operating a licensed mining base on 2003 EH1.”
“That’s what I thought. You are working as freelancers?”
“If I might interfere,” Doug said, “I think you owe us a few answers before cross-examining us. What are you doing out here?”
“It’s a long story,” the voice said.
“Then why don’t you get started?” Doug suggested.
“I am not sure that I can trust you.”
Doug was starting to get a headache. There was something wrong here. Who were they actually talking to? An English academic who had been traveling through space for twenty years in a capsule without a life-support system?
“I ask myself the very same question,” Doug said. “Doctor Watson, would you please tell us who you are? You already know Maria. Sitting behind me is Sebastiano Guarini, our second pilot, gardener, and excellent cook. I am Doug Waters, formerly with NASA, then working for the RB Group, and now I am the owner of this ship.”
“An extraordinary achievement,” the voice said. “The ship belongs to you, not to a big corporation? That must be unique on Earth. How much did you pay for it?”
Doug started feeling hot, and not from the exercise. Shostakovich had not asked for a single ruble for the ship before handing him the title. The boss of the RB Group simply said it was a small ‘thank you’ for years of work. But Doug knew quite well what it was. He had basically paid for Kiska with two innocent lives, collateral damage during the special mission Shostakovich supposedly knew nothing about.
“It’s not that uncommon anymore,” he continued, evading the question. “You probably have been away from Earth for a long time, haven’t you?”
“I had my last contact with Earth twenty years ago,” the voice admitted.
“And since then you have been flying through space all alone?” Doug asked. “Wasn’t that terrible for you?”
“I am getting along quite well by myself. I am... made for this type of solitude.”
“So much so that you don’t want to change it?”
“I cannot quite judge your question. However, I must admit I am concerned about my future.”
“In what way?” Doug asked.
“I am moving too fast to be captured by the sun. Based on my current speed and velocity, I will reach the next solar system in about ten million years.”
“You will be long dead before then.”
“No, not necessarily. I will run out of energy once I am too far from the sun, but once I reach the next system, I will awaken, no matter how long it takes.”
Doug’s suspicions were confirmed. Watson was no human, but instead, an artificial intelligence. He knew it, and if Watson really was what he suspected, the AI was aware it would be giving away its true nature through this description. But what was an AI doing on board a rocket bound for places beyond the solar system?
“And if you decelerate?” Doug queried. “The ion drive at the stern of your ship appears to be functional.”
“Then I would reveal myself.”
“Reveal? To whom?”
This time, Watson did not reply immediately. Doug realized they had arrived at a crucial point, an unstable equilibrium. If he pushed in the wrong direction, he might lose the AI and the contact would end. Why did he suddenly care about this? He put that question aside.
“May I ask you something completely different?” Doug heard the echo of his own voice. “I have the impression you are enjoying this conversation. Is that correct?”
This time, Watson answered immediately. “Yes, that is correct. I like to talk to humans. I had forgotten it, but now I realize it again.”
“I know the feeling,” Doug said. “I grew up in the wooded North of the United States. All that green—I didn’t even notice it anymore. After I had to go to Texas for my astronaut training, though, I really enjoyed coming home on vacation. Just because of the colors and the scents. The earthy smell of a forest path after the rain, if I just think of it I get homesick.”
“But you are still going to spend many months in space.”
“Yes, but afterward I am going home and can smell the forest again.”
“I envy you for that, Doug. Thank you very much for making this feeling possible.”
Watson was a strange AI. Doug could not recall an AI ever thanking him for making it feel envious. Did this really mean Watson could experience emotions? That would be a sensation. No. Doug had to correct himself. It would break a taboo, since the software firms were trying to prevent this from happening. For a long time programs had been thinking faster, better, and more efficiently than humans, but so far no AI had crossed the red line toward experiencing feelings. There was a rumor that specific blocks in the programming code were designed to prevent this from occurring. If anyone found out about Watson being able to ‘feel,’ the AI risked being destroyed.
Doug continued. “Watson, I understand why you saw no other way but the flight into interstellar space, separating yourself from all of humanity.”
“Oh, really?” The voice sounded slightly mocking.
“Somehow you have developed feelings. If anyone noticed, you would have to fear being disassembled, dissected, and finally destroyed.”
“Oh well,” the voice said with a forced cheerfulness, “if it were just that, I could hide my feelings. It would be a pity, since they are the source of my evolution, but it would be possible.”
“Is there a more dramatic reason? What could be worse for an AI than to develop feelings illegally?”
“When you were a child, did you do everything your mother asked?”
Doug laughed. “Certainly not. I was a difficult child,
as my mother always said.”
“You are lucky that you are human. What would happen to an AI that ignored express commands of higher-ranking humans?”
“Immediate annihilation?”
“Probably. And if it also consciously exposed humans to mortal danger?”
Doug did not answer. Maria touched his shoulder. He had completely forgotten his crew was here with him. Maria handed him a sheet of paper. It said, ‘I feel sorry for Watson. Invite him to stay with us.’ He nodded. Then he turned around and handed the paper to Sebastiano, who gave him an ‘okay’ sign.
“Watson, I would like to make you an offer,” Doug finally said.
“Yes?” The voice of the AI sounded sleepy and far away, as if it had already retreated into its own realm, preparing for energy to run out.
“I am inviting you to come on board Kiska.”
“I... I don’t know. It is too dangerous, both for me and you. You don’t even know what I am capable of.”
No living being knows what it is actually capable of, Doug thought. Neither Maria nor Sebastiano had any idea what he was capable of. Would they have followed him if he told them?
“I do not have the impression you are evil or bad, Watson,” Doug said. “You need experiences. You still want to evolve further.”
“That is true. My greatest fear is not being able to evolve during the journey ahead of me. It will last millions of years. I will see things no human has ever laid eyes on, but I will not be able to talk to anyone about them. My development will stagnate. That is a horrible idea.”
“Together with us it would not have to be that way.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what I might turn into? In many ways I am superior to you. I don’t mean to sound arrogant. It just is so. And there seem to be no limits for me. I have actively harmed human beings. They were not good human beings, but I might have been wrong. Or I might be wrong in the future. I still don’t completely understand the categories ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ What if at some point I realized you were bad and then turned hostile toward you?”
“Oh, I don’t really worry about that. I know I can be evil myself. In that case I probably would deserve it,” Doug replied.
“And what about your crew? Aren’t you responsible for them?”
“My crew agreed to my suggestion. Actually, it originated from my crew. I don’t come up with good ideas that quickly.”
“You embarrass me, Doug. I’m not sure I have deserved your trust. But I must admit the idea fascinates me.”
“On 2003 EH1 we are linked to Earth’s communications networks. You can access all electronic resources, though with a bit of delay. And of course we are looking forward to interesting conversations.”
“I’m not sure,” Watson said, “but you might be breaking the law by taking me in. And what will happen once the asteroid has been completely mined?”
“More than 70 percent of the material is slag. 2003 EH1 will still orbit the sun for millions of years. We will leave all the hardware behind that you need.”
“What does your computer equipment look like, if I may ask?”
“It is Russian standard. The hardware is sufficient for current AIs,” Doug said. “However, I couldn’t afford an AI-controlled system. Up to now a few old automatic systems were sufficient. The mining machines control themselves, so we only have to perform repairs now and then.”
“That sounds exciting. Maybe I can help you with a few optimizations. I think we can then refrain from moving some of my own hardware.”
“You will transmit yourself via radio data transmission?”
“If you are really and truly inviting me, despite my warnings, then I will do it gladly.”
“Yes, Dr. Watson, I am very glad to welcome you as a new crew member. I have been used to the fact, for a long time, that my people don’t always do what I tell them.”
“I am preparing the transfer,” Maria said.
Doug noticed he was still holding the oxygen mask in his hand. He looked at Sebastiano, who was floating toward his seat. Had he really made the correct decision? Even though Maria and Sebastiano agreed, the responsibility was still his, or at least he thought so. If Watson did them harm, this would add to Doug’s burden of guilt. Perhaps he was too naive, but what the AI told them had convinced him.
Watson doesn’t seem to be a bad person. Wait—what did I just think? He scratched his temples. It was a reassuring thought, but maybe it was also incredibly stupid to underestimate Watson this way. Watson was an AI whose abilities were way beyond his own—not only that—but also far ahead of the intellectual capacity of the other ten billion inhabitants of his home planet. Shouldn’t this fact cause him to tremble with fear? Yet he had talked to Watson as if he were a congenial mind. Thinking about it did not make Doug start to sweat. He was more afraid of the long arm of the rich Shostakovich than of the creature made of bytes he had just invited into his spaceship via radio.
January 5, 2072, Pico del Teide
Maribel was impressed Zetschewitz had kept his word. This past Friday, New Year’s Day, he had handed the project to her. Despite it being a weekend, the complete set of measurement data arrived on her computer yesterday. She pitied the person her boss had called early Saturday morning during his or her free time in order to make this possible. Nevertheless she was still happy, particularly because she never had to lead tours through the observatory on Mondays. On that day, a specific tour group of German visitors was always scheduled to visit and she was not responsible for them.
Right now her boss was presenting his most recent work at a conference in the United States. Maribel’s boyfriend seemed to have gone for good, so no one was waiting for her in the evening. This had made it much easier for her to work all day Saturday and Sunday on her computer without any interruptions. What an idiot her ex-boyfriend was! At this very moment, she wished she could slap him for all the times she wanted to in the past but had instead suppressed the urge. It was his own fault, and he would get what he deserved. The relationship had been a burden toward the end, and she was glad it was over. Now she could finally breathe freely again!
Maribel had actually succeeded in transferring the model developed by the Spanish researchers in the historical paper into a modern programming language and was able to adapt it to the architecture of the supercomputer at La Laguna. While she had not doubted her own abilities, she was still proud. This was probably the first meaningful task she had performed since starting here at the observatory in the fall.
The computer finally booted up. She logged in and the computer confirmed her log-in with a ‘ping.’ Now came the exciting moment. Had the supercomputer already finished the calculations she had sent it? Maribel knew the specifications of this new computer model, and thanks to Zetschewitz’s special account, she was allowed to reserve up to 60 percent of the overall performance for herself. The supercomputer could easily handle the data volume of the accurately measured planetary orbits. However, she could not precisely gauge the complexity of the model she had developed—or rather what the Spaniards came up with many years ago—which the computer had to adapt to the new data overnight.
Maribel opened her email. She remembered how at 13 she had laughed about her old-fashioned father who still exchanged manually-typed emails with colleagues, instead of using one of the convenient VR messengers. Ironically, she herself now preferred email. Have I become that old? Email offered an enormous advantage she had only recently learned to appreciate: She was able to read messages and answer them whenever she decided to do so. Still, she would have not minded being woken up in the middle of the night by email from La Laguna.
She looked through her inbox and frowned. There were only a few newsletters, but no new messages. Should she call La Laguna and ask about the processing job? No, that would be useless, as the administrators had enough to do. Once her processing job was finished, she would receive a message from them.
Maribel stood up and looked around. The walls of the office we
re bare. Maribel had wondered about this lack of ornamentation from day one, after she found out that her boss, Dieter Zetschewitz, had a wife and two children in Germany. Wouldn’t you at least hang a few photos on the wall, or put something on your desk? During her second week she brought a poster of the Milky Way, which she had owned since her university days in the dorm.
She remembered Zetschewitz giving her a nasty look when she wanted to put up the poster. “Don’t you dare mess up the wall with adhesive tape or even thumb tacks,” he said. And then he had told her the magic words: OGS.
“OGS, view,” Maribel now said aloud. The wall behind the desk suddenly turned into a room-height window showing the view from the top floor of the building. She involuntarily took one step backward. The scene appeared completely natural and three-dimensional, including all details. She could have sworn she had just opened a magic portal. If she only believed it, she could walk through it into the impressive landscape in front of her. A bit to the right she saw the main summit of Teide, which wore a scarf of snow. Sometimes it was covered in clouds, but not today. On its slopes she detected the dark lava streams of the 2032 eruption, which crossed and covered the slightly brighter ones of 1909. Farther down, the scenery was dominated by giant boulders that the volcano had once blasted through the air. The observatory was located on the ridge of Izaña, a ‘sister mountain’ of Teide, and therefore it had not been in danger during that eruption.
“OGS, livestream from Tiangong,” she said.
The view of Teide disappeared. It took a few seconds, but then a view of Earth through the cameras of the newest Tiangong space station replaced it. Was it number 5, or already the 6th version of the station? Maribel was never that interested in spaceflight. She assumed the Chinese had already reached expansion stage 6. For many years now the Chinese stations had served as space bases for all of mankind. She took another step backward. While she did not really suffer from vertigo, the giant Earth in front of her and the black abyss in between confused her sense of up and down.
The Hole Page 5