Her computer had already booted up. It looked like her former professor had tried to reach her.
“Computer, launch return call,” she said. Half a minute later the silhouette of a head appeared on the screen.
“This is Crewmaster,” her professor’s voice said. “Thanks for calling me back. I am in the bathroom right now, so you can’t see me.”
“Good morning,” she replied.
“Oh, it’s already morning over there? I hope I’ll finally get a little sleep—been up for almost 40 hours.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Never mind. Those were very interesting hours, the most exciting ones of my life, and I owe it all to you.”
“Don’t say that,” Maribel said.
“Okay, fine. I didn’t want to talk to you about that anyways. The thing is, I absolutely need you here,” Crewmaster said.
“At the university?”
“In the United States.”
“I... I don’t know. I am doing rather well over here,” she replied. Particularly when Zetschewitz is traveling, she added in her thoughts.
“Four important people contacted me and made me an interesting offer. Four!”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you follow the discussions in Congress yesterday evening?”
“No, sorry, I didn’t.”
“It was about what can be done to prevent mankind from dying out,” he said.
“And what is the United States’ plan?”
“Nothing. That’s what it will amount to.”
She should have been shocked, but she took the news very calmly.
“Maribel, are you still there? Unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“To be honest—”
“A small group argued for building bunkers,” Crewmaster interrupted her. “An even smaller one wanted to construct a ship to get a few people out of reach. All of this costs enormous amounts of money, and in the end would only help a few. Therefore the majority of Congress voted for having themselves a good time and then it would be the end. Can you imagine that?”
Maribel was surprised. She would not have expected the Americans to show such insight, particularly not politicians. They should have been the first ones trying to get into the bunker or the spaceship.
“Professor, I actually find that quite reasonable,” she said.
Her former professor did not reply. Then the silhouette disappeared and she saw his hollow cheeks. He still had shaving cream on his cheeks. At the same time the camera on her computer was activated.
“Sorry, I really wanted to see your face now. Are you serious?”
Maribel smiled. “Yes, indeed.”
George Crewmaster stared at her, aghast. “You... you don’t think we should save humanity or at least attempt to do so?”
“We are not the only sentient species in space, and probably not exactly the brightest among them.” Suddenly Maribel remembered that she had forgotten something. She did not know what, but it must have been important. The thought eluded her grasp. It was behind her, but when she turned around, it was gone.
Then she slapped her hand against her forehead. “Oh, Crewmaster,” she cried. “Not the brightest, do you understand?”
He gave her another stunned look. His mouth opened, but he did not say anything.
“The Enceladus creature! It is billions of years old. Maybe it can help us!”
The face on the screen changed expression. It did not look quite as baffled anymore.
“True,” Crewmaster said. “The giant being living in the ocean of the Saturn moon. It probably knows more about the universe than all of us combined. I have no idea whether we are still in contact with it.”
The public had quickly lost interest in this mysterious creature after the return of the expedition twenty years ago. This strange creature, consisting of trillions of individual cells that had existed since the dawn of time in a faraway ice ocean had briefly fascinated mankind, because humans had proof they were not alone in the universe. But it also hardly affected everyday life on Earth.
“Could you find that out for me?” Maribel used a facial expression that had always worked with her father.
“If you promise to come out to the West Coast and visit me,” Crewmaster said.
“What should I do there?” she asked.
“We are going to meet the four people I mentioned. They have a very exciting proposition, I think.”
February 7, 2072, 2003 EH1
“And now I present… Recipe 27!” Sebastiano said proudly.
With his left hand he held a low glass bowl, while pulling himself along with his right. His destination was the dining table, where Maria and Doug already sat. In front of them were plates and cutlery that were magnetically attached to the table. The place at the head of the table was still free.
“Watch out!” the cook called. He gave the bowl a slight push. It slowly floated toward the tabletop.
“Could you be so nice as to catch it? But only at the handles, because the rest of it is hot,” Sebastiano said.
Doug stretched out his arm, but Maria was faster. There was a clattering sound as she put the bowl on the table and the magnets in its base attached themselves to it. Doug reached for the clamps holding the lid on the bowl.
“Just a second,” Sebastiano warned him, “or I’ll whack you on the fingers with my cooking spoon!” He brandished the large plastic spoon and laughed.
“What is Recipe 27?” Maria asked.
“You will see it in a moment, be patient,” Sebastiano said as he moved to his chair. He strapped in his legs and raised his torso to reach the bowl. Then he ceremoniously opened the clamps and let the lid float away.
A puff of steam issued from the bowl and dispersed evenly in all directions. It reminded Doug of a nuclear mushroom cloud. The steam contained scent molecules that gradually reached his nose. “There is some slightly browned cheese and a fresh smell of... um, marjoram?”
“The pungent smell you notice is nutmeg,” Sebastiano said, correcting him.
“So you found your supply of nutmeg after all,” Maria observed. Before launch, Sebastiano had bought an enormous supply of spices, but forgot nutmeg, of all things. He always claimed, though, that this spice had been on his list and was just lost somewhere in the storage rooms.
“No, it’s still hiding from me,” the cook replied. “But together with Watson I managed to synthesize the aroma. Perhaps we’ll get that patented on Earth—that is, if Earth still exists then.”
“We are all very excited,” Maria said with a smile.
Doug saw a yellow-brownish mass in the bowl. Maybe it was a casserole? Sebastiano dug into it with his shovel-like spoon and removed part of the mass.
“Your plate, please,” he said to Maria.
She held out her plate and the cook directed the food onto it with the big spoon. Luckily for Maria, the food did not slide from the plate.
“Nice trick, isn’t it?” Sebastiano crowed. “It sticks to the plate. It took me a lot of thinking to achieve this, with Watson helping.”
“Are you training Watson to be a cook?” Maria asked.
“No, he just helps me when chemistry is involved. Thanks to his simulations I can avoid a lot of trial and error.”
“Then all that remains is to find out how it tastes,” Doug said, while Sebastiano put a portion on his plate.
“Enjoy your meal!” the Italian said, “and by the way, it is a casserole with carrots, bell peppers, and potatoes.”
“And what about the cheese? Did you make it yourself from powdered milk?” Maria asked.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll have to try it sometime,” Sebastiano said. “But no, it was produced chemically from protein powder.”
“But it’s better than the cheese substitute you used last time,” Maria said while chewing.
“We also have Watson to thank for that.”
“Thanks, Watson,” Maria said, pointing skyward. Doug had to laugh.
“I am sorry,” Watson said, “but an urgent message has arrived for you, Doug.”
“I’m sure it can wait until after we finish eating,” Doug replied.
“No, the message is supposed to be opened immediately—in your cabin. It’s confidential.”
That could only be Shostakovich. Doug gnashed his teeth and threw fork and knife at the table, where they attached themselves with loud clanks.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced.
“Don’t get angry, Doug, that won’t help,” Maria said, trying to comfort him. He pushed off from the table and floated toward the pole.
“Start message,” Doug said once he reached his cabin, but the computer refused to do it until he closed the cabin door. Shostakovich was really paranoid, while Doug kept no secrets from his crew.
“Start message,” he repeated, after the door had clicked shut. As expected, the image of his former boss appeared.
“Doug,” he said, “you probably can guess why I am contacting you, now of all times. To be blunt, I have a request which you should not deny, and I mean this very, very seriously.”
Shostakovich had a grim expression, but Doug knew he was a great actor. You never knew what kind of cards the man was holding.
“You certainly have heard of the black hole that suddenly appeared in the solar system,” Shostakovich began. “They are now calling it ‘Object X’ here. Perhaps they think this name sounds less dangerous. I know though, as my researchers told me in no uncertain terms, that it will wipe us off the face of this planet forever. Well, maybe we deserve no better.”
You certainly don’t, Doug thought.
“By coincidence, I seem to have the hottest iron in the fire. So far, nobody here knows this.”
A sense of foreboding skittered up Doug’s spine. He knew who Shostakovich was referring to.
“2003 EH1 follows a very unusual orbit, which will bring you into direct reach of the object,” the Russian billionaire said. “You have a unique chance to take a close look at that thing, using your Kiska.”
Sure... You might know. We are the only ones who definitely will survive this catastrophe, and now we should deliberately put ourselves in danger by approaching a black hole? Shostakovich must have really lost his marbles. Doug would never do this to his crew!
“I have thought very carefully about this,” Shostakovich said. “It is really a unique opportunity! You are something like our last hope. My scientists tell me you are relatively safe on your asteroid. When everything blows up, you will be sufficiently far away. Therefore you’re probably not courageous enough for this little trip, but you actually don’t have to be afraid of a black hole. It only measures six meters! A flight to Jupiter, which weighs the same as the black hole, would be much more dangerous. You just must not get too close to it, but that would also apply to Jupiter. So please, get moving and do as I ask. Consider it the last wish of a man condemned to death, because that’s what I am, like every other human being on Earth. Afterward you can still dance on my grave and mentally curse me.”
Shostakovich paused for a moment, as if he was giving Doug time to think. The Russian had argued skillfully, but that was still no reason for endangering his crew. What could the three of them do near the black hole? They did not have any special scientific instruments on board, and none of them was a physicist.
“You don’t want to do it, right?” Shostakovich started up. “I know you well enough. I mean I know your psychological profile, and it tells me you will deny my request for the sake of your crew. I know you’re only human. I fully understand that your crew is your family. You know, I do have a daughter.”
The old hypocrite, Doug thought.
“But unfortunately I can’t take that into consideration,” the Russian continued. “I want you to fly to Object X and take a closer look. If you don’t attempt it, you will regret it the rest of your life. What will your family say when they hear what you did a while back? Yes, you did it on my behalf, but will that really exonerate you in their eyes? You certainly know Maria and Sebastiano better than I do. The decision lies with you—and the consequences. Tell me what you’re planning to do at the next opportunity. Shostakovich, out.”
This bastard was trying to blackmail him! Doug’s was furious. He should not have been surprised—he knew Shostakovich too well for that. Doug had thought himself safe, so far away, on a different celestial body. But the reach of his former boss was long, as others before him had learned. A knot formed in his stomach at the idea of Maria finding out all the details about his past, whether from Shostakovich or from himself. Doug started feeling nauseous. He quickly moved to the WHC—Waste Hygiene Compartment—on the other side of the corridor. After relieving himself, he washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He seemed to have aged months.
Then he slowly returned to the living room. Maria and Sebastiano were still sitting at the table, joking.
“Now the food is cold,” Sebastiano said. “Do you want me to warm it up for you?”
“Don’t bother. I couldn’t get it down anyway. I seem to have caught some bug,” Doug replied.
“You do look pale,” said Maria—his Maria, who considered him a good man.
Doug nodded but did not reply.
“I am going to take a look at the toilet,” Doug said, after they’d been sitting silently at the table for another ten minutes. Maria gave him a surprised look. No one volunteered to take care of the WHC, which needed to be cleaned once a month. Doug hoped that performing this unpleasant task now would distract him. He moved upward without a look back. The cabin, which contained the toilet and the shower, was cramped, and he was already starting to sweat.
The crew relieved themselves into two different-sized containers. For urination, he and Sebastiano used a kind of tube, while there was a uniquely-shaped device for Maria. For bowel movements, there was an oval bowl with a lid that had a hole in it. The user had to be positioned precisely above it. The tubes and the bowl ended in hoses that suctioned off the excretions.
First Doug switched the fan to its highest setting in order to get any residue out of the system. Then he knelt at the spot where the hoses ended in a cylinder and removed them. A barely tolerable stench rose from the cylinder and he quickly closed it with a temporary cover. He then retrieved a special tool from a narrow locker on the side and used it to scrape out the two hoses, working in the shower, that also functioned by using a vacuum. Without regular cleaning, the interior of each hose would quickly be covered by microorganisms.
Now came the arduous part of Doug’s task. Inside the cylinder, the excretions were split into solid, liquid, and gaseous components. This was done via a rapidly-rotating wheel that separated the materials based on their inertia, i.e. their mass. Afterward, urine ended up in the UPA—Urine Processor Assembly—where it was chemically and biologically recycled into water. Solids were dried and mechanically pressed into disks that were collected in a container on the outside of the WHC. Maria regularly emptied that container, and she could use the disks as fertilizer in the greenhouses. By then they produced almost no odor.
The main problem was with the wheel that separated the three components. Despite it having a special coating, deposits would inevitably form after a certain amount of use. Doug took a deep breath and held it while he opened the cylinder again. He could clearly see the wheel. After cleaning it would be shiny and silver-colored, but now it looked a rusty brown. The wheel could not be removed. He turned his special tool around. At the other end there was a kind of grater, and he had to use it on the distributor wheel until it was shiny and silvery again.
He set the fan on low so that any particles he removed would be suctioned off, but he could not hold his breath for ten minutes. After two minutes he exhaled and tried to take a shallow breath. The stench was incredible, but Doug focused on his work. In eight more minutes he would be done. Seven minutes. Six. The grater moved up and down. One brown particle required such a push that it escaped t
he airflow and stuck to the sleeve of Doug’s jacket. Truly a shitty job, he thought. From now on he would always clean the toilet. Perhaps he could offset some of his guilt that way.
He had closed the cylinder again and attached the hoses correctly. He stood under the shower to get rid of the stench. Soon Doug would talk to Maria and Sebastiano about their trip to this mysterious Object X.
“Well, did you have fun?” Sebastiano asked. Doug had asked the other two to come to the living room for a short talk.
“Most definitely,” Doug replied. “It was a very special experience.”
“Thanks, by the way,” Sebastiano said. “It would have actually been my turn.”
“Never mind. I was just in the mood to get the shit flying.”
Sebastiano laughed.
“You guys are gross,” Maria said.
He and Sebastiano looked at each other and shrugged.
“What’s up?” the cook asked.
“Just sit down,” Doug said as he motioned them over to the table. He still had not found the right words. Maria sighed and moved to her chair.
Sebastiano stayed where he was. “I’d rather stand,” he said. “Ha-ha.”
“This thing approaching the solar system,” Doug started slowly, “which will eliminate mankind...”
“Yes, we talked about it. And also that it will spare us,” Sebastiano said.
“Then we won’t get a million for our ore,” Doug said, “but that’s not all.”
“Out with it,” Maria urged.
“It seems we are the only ones who might be able to take a closer look at the object.”
“Might be?” Sebastiano asked.
“I haven’t agreed to it yet,” Doug said. “I first wanted to hear your opinion about it.”
“Does this mean Earth remembered us and sent a request?”
“Something like that, Sebastiano.” Doug would not tell them the request did not come from Earth but from Shostakovich. Or that it was more an order than a request.
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