The Hole

by Brandon Q Morris

  Sebastiano’s upper body swayed back and forth.

  “That’s typical,” the cook then said. “Earth never did anything for us. After my fall I wanted to continue working at NASA, but they insisted on putting me in an office… For my own protection, they claimed. Even though I am a better astronaut than most. And you, Maria, what did Earth ever do for you?”

  “Well,” she replied, “it always gave me air, food, and gravity, which is more than we can expect from this lump of rock here.”

  “But what about people?” Sebastiano asked.

  “I got to know a lot of people, some more closely than I wanted to,” Maria said. “Most of them were okay. Criminals represented a minority.”

  “But is there a single person on Earth you owe something to?” Sebastiano asked. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  “The mailman was always nice,” Maria said.

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Sebastiano, there are a lot of mail carriers on Earth. Nice people who do not deserve to die. If we somehow can help them, we should try.”

  The Italian gave Doug a skeptical look. “Can we even do that?” Sebastiano asked.

  “They don’t know,” Doug replied. “We are supposed to take a close-up look at the object so they can find out whether there is some solution. But I agree with you—they do not have the right to demand it from us.”

  “You called it a ‘request,’” Maria corrected him. “And of course they can ask us for something. I think we should fulfill the request.”

  “We are completely safe here on the asteroid,” Doug said. “Watson told us we would be able to live out our lives here. Should we really risk that?”

  “We could just fly there and take a look around,” Maria said. “Watson, how high is the risk of such a mission?”

  “The risk is low,” the voice of the AI said. “We only have to avoid crossing the event horizon.”

  “Could you put us in a safe orbit around the object?”

  “Yes, Maria, that would be no problem at all.”

  “See, Doug? You are worrying too much again,” she said.

  “But what about your greenhouses?” Doug asked. “We would be traveling for several weeks.”

  “The automatic system will keep the plants growing,” Maria explained. “At worst we would have to eat packaged food for a while.”

  “I am still against it,” Doug said. “And because Sebastiano also dislikes the plan, we are staying here.”

  “No, boss, I am in favor of it,” the cook objected.

  “Even though Earth never did you a favor?” Doug asked.

  “Hey, at least it got me here, with you guys. And it will make me the best space cook in the entire universe, whether it likes it or not.”

  Doug ceased resisting. The only way he could dissuade Maria from this voyage was if he told her the truth about him and Shostakovich. But then he would lose her.

  February 8, 2072, Seattle

  ‘MARIBEL PEDREIRA, IAC’ said the sign that the man in the black suit held in front of himself. Maribel saw him as soon as she walked through the sliding door behind the baggage claim area. The man had Asian features and went by the name of Sid. He introduced himself as her contact person, took her backpack off her shoulders, and led her through the terminal building to the VIP parking lot, where a black limo stood waiting. Seemingly by itself and completely without sound the right rear door opened. Maribel sat down and immediately sank into the soft, cool seat. Something rattled behind her, and she concluded that it must be her backpack that the driver who was loading into the trunk. She was waiting for him to get inside the car, when suddenly the vehicle drove off by itself without any warning. Too bad, she would have liked to chat with the man.

  “Welcome to Seattle and to Amazon,” a warm voice greeted her in perfect Castilian Spanish. “My name is Alexa. Please ask me if you have any questions. I am taking you to your destination now. I expect a driving time of 53 minutes. You will find chilled drinks in the refrigerator in the backrest of the seat in front of you. I hope you have a nice trip.”

  Maribel took a deep breath and exhaled. The air inside the vehicle seemed to be very clean and naturally fragrant, almost like on the volcano at home. Then again, any environment would probably be a relief after spending twelve hours in an airplane. She found a more comfortable position and sank even deeper into her seat. From somewhere in the vehicle, soft, soothing music could be heard.

  “Ms. Pedreira, I am sorry to wake you.” The voice came from far away. It took Maribel a few seconds to recognize that it was Alexa again. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see her own face.

  “We are going to reach our destination in seven minutes. I activated the mirror in case you would like to freshen up your appearance. You will find everything you might need in the compartment next to the refrigerator. Of course all the toiletries have been sterilized especially for you.”

  Maribel did not have to peer at herself for long. Her eyes looked horrible. As promised by Alexa, the cosmetic compartment contained everything she needed to correct her makeup. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Alexa meanwhile had thoughtfully darkened the car windows for privacy.

  The vehicle slowed down, but did not stop yet. Maribel looked out of the window. They were somewhere in downtown Seattle. The street was wide, but had only two lanes, so they moved slowly. Three minutes later the vehicle veered off and stopped.

  “I wish you a successful day,” Alexa said, while the door opened soundlessly. Maribel got out. She felt a bit confused. In front of her was an office building with a glass front, definitely more than a hundred meters high. To the left she saw three glass domes with a steel frame. The trunk of the black limo opened. Maribel turned around. No one was waiting for her. She walked around the vehicle and took out her backpack. The trunk lid closed and the car drove off with a soft beep.

  Now she was alone. Maribel turned around completely and then tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her long, unbuttoned jacket. It was amazingly warm for February. Now what? In earlier times, she might have been frightened, but now the situation rather amused her. She had been worried that everything would work too efficiently here, but that definitely did not seem to be the case.

  She would give the people who invited her three more minutes to make an appearance, and then she was going to find a hotel. It did feel a bit odd, though. She had no idea who she was waiting for, exactly. Her former professor, Crewmaster, only asked her to inform him of her arrival time in Seattle. Once she had arrived there, someone would take care of her, he had said.

  No matter. Then Maribel would have a few days for herself. She had never been to Seattle, and the city was supposed to be worth a visit. Just as she was about to leave, a man came running toward her from the nearest glass dome. Was this the person sent to pick her up? Maribel was a bit disappointed. Now she would have to suffer through endless meetings after all.

  The man came closer. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt, as if it were spring now. Despite his outfit he did not seem particularly athletic, and from closer up she saw that he must be over thirty. Like Sid, who had met her at the airport, this man seemed to be of Asian ancestry.

  After he reached her, he breathlessly shook Maribel’s hand. It took him a few seconds to get his first words out.

  “I am so sorry that we kept you waiting,” he said. “My name is Chen, and I am going to accompany you today. May I carry your backpack?”

  “Thanks, Chen,” she replied. “It is nice to meet you. I can handle the backpack myself.”

  Chen pointed at the glass dome he came from and said, “We have to get back there.” Maribel nodded.

  “It’s quite warm, today,” she said after a while. Chen stopped for a moment and pointed at his T-shirt. He seemed to think the remark was aimed at him.

  “I did not know you were coming and had to hurry over, all of a sudden,” he explained. “A colleague of mine was supposed to take care of you, but he left thi
s morning for a trip around the world.”

  “Does that surprise you?” Maribel asked.

  Chen laughed. “You are right. And that guy wasn’t the only one. About a third of my colleagues no longer show up for work. But if nobody worked anymore, everything would collapse. That’s not right.”

  “Quite true,” she said. “Well, you can carry my backpack after all. My back is suddenly aching. It must be from spending the night in cattle class.”

  “Yes, ten hours in the economy cabin, that’s tough. I am glad I don’t have to travel anymore,” Chen said. He took her backpack and looped it over one shoulder.

  They entered the dome. From the inside it looked like a giant greenhouse with trees and flowerbeds. On the ground floor there were stores and restaurants. Chen led her between two souvenir shops, heading toward a glass barrier. The wall recognized him and opened.

  “Don’t I have to check in?” Maribel asked.

  “No, the system already has your data,” Chen said. “Otherwise we would not have been allowed to enter. By the way, welcome to Amazon!”

  They were standing in front of another glass wall, but this time an opaque one.

  “The meeting won’t start for another 45 minutes,” he said. “May I invite you to the cafeteria until then?”

  Maribel smiled and said, “Why not?”

  “Then we’ll have to go to the elevator.” Chen turned toward his right. The elevator was very narrow.

  “Cafeteria,” her companion said. The elevator started up, moved a few meters and spat them out again.

  “Now, just around the corner and we’ll be there.”

  The cafeteria looked like a modern self-service restaurant. It had space for about 200 people, but it was almost empty.

  Chen noticed her glance. “There are very few people here right now. What can I get you?”

  “A café solo, please,” Maribel replied. “That’s an espresso—black.”

  The coffee tasted great. For some reason, Maribel never expected to find that in America. The time went by quickly. Chen knew many exciting stories from the early days of the company, or ‘legends from the golden age,’ as he called them. He was a good storyteller. At the end he admitted to her he wrote fairy tales in his spare time, and this fact really seemed to fit his character. She told him she would like to read a few of them, and then they said goodbye. She really liked him, and she felt a bit melancholy that she would probably never see Chen again. Time was running out.

  Another man, a black man who seemed exceedingly nervous, accompanied her to the conference room. At her request he got her a glass of water from the water cooler, but unfortunately spilled almost half of it.

  “I’ve never seen them all together,” he apologized. Maribel wondered who or what he was talking about. The conference room was round and located directly below the dome. She looked up and saw that the sky overhead was cloudy. In the middle of the room there was a small table, with six chairs around it. Five men of different ages sat there. Against the wall there were additional seats, all of which were occupied by silent people staring intently at the center of the room. The five men in the middle seemed to be engaged in lively conversation. As if on cue, they all turned toward Maribel. She blushed at all this attention.

  She recognized her former professor. The others were unknown to her. Crewmaster waved her closer. He got up and slid her chair out.

  “May I make the introductions?” he began. “These gentlemen are the Chief Technology Officers of SpaceX, Blue Origin, Virgin Galactic, and RB.” While mentioning the company names he pointed at each representative.

  “You see their names on their name tags, Maribel,” he explained. “I am bad at remembering names, so I find this very practical.”

  “I can confirm that,” the SpaceX tech officer said. “I was one of George’s doctoral students, but he just called me ‘boy’ the whole time.”

  “Me too,” the representative from Blue Origin said with a smile. “And I am rather envious George remembered your name, Ms. Pedreira.”

  “Sorry to interrupt the chatting, but unfortunately our time is at a premium,” a heavily-accented voice intoned.

  Maribel looked at the speaker’s name tag. It read ‘Grigori Shukov.’ Russian? This must be the man from the RB Group.

  “Harry,” he said, and it sounded like Khari, “could you please briefly summarize the purpose of our meeting?”

  The man whom he had addressed nodded. His nametag read ‘Harry Broadstone,’ and he represented Virgin Galactic. “I don’t remember exactly who came up with the idea,” he said, looking around, “but it was rather obvious anyway. Governments seem to be incapable of taking action. Therefore we want to build an ark for humanity, with our own money.”

  Broadstone paused and looked at her. At me, Maribel Pedreira, hardly more than an intern. What does he want from me? She tried not to let her feelings show.

  “To be more precise, with our shareholders’ money,” the man from SpaceX interjected. “And to refute your argument, yes, they will support it enthusiastically.” Maribel could not remember having expressed any doubts in that regard. “Because we’re going to raffle off tickets among those who helped with their work or their money,” the man continued.

  “A clever move, don’t you think, Maribel?” Crewmaster asked her directly.

  Maribel was confused. So much did not seem to make sense. It should not be her sitting here, but Madam President of the United States.

  “I am not sure you are asking the right person, George,” she replied. “I am only a nobody and I don’t know anything about spaceflight technology. For one thing, the time frame seems much too short to me. The ship would have to cover 75 million kilometers before the catastrophe occurs.”

  “We are quite aware of that,” Broadstone said. “But we ran the calculations, and while it is not 100 percent sure, it should work. This is the last move left for mankind. After that, the game is over.”

  Maribel had to agree. If only the governments would think like this, but there seemed to be no genuine support for it anywhere in the world. In all countries, the problem seemed to be that the great majority would have to make sacrifices so a tiny minority could escape the catastrophe.

  “And what is going to happen after the cataclysm?” Maribel asked.

  Broadstone hesitated before answering. “We don’t know exactly,” he said, “it depends on the condition of the solar system at that point. Perhaps they could settle on an asteroid, or perhaps we get very lucky and parts of Earth are still habitable, but since the sun is being extinguished, that would be very unlikely. The Ark has to be prepared for anything.”

  “Fine. I just don’t see what this has to do with me,” Maribel said in a low voice.

  “Oh,” the SpaceX man said, “let me be open with you, because it is rather simple. We are a bunch of old men who have a lot of money… too much money, some would say. Some people, especially our shareholders, find our ideas somehow cool, but most humans envy us. If we announced the project, it would be labeled as an attempt by some super-rich guys to escape the fate threatening the rest of humanity.”

  I can see why, she thought. They couldn’t avoid creating a few billion enemies for themselves. She could already imagine the headlines. “The rats are leaving the sinking ship,” she said.

  “Yes, something like that is to be expected,” said the man from SpaceX. “But we don’t want it to reach that point. This is where you come in. You are young, an optimistic and talented female scientist, as our mutual friend Crewmaster confirmed, didn’t he?” He patted George on the shoulder. “You detected Object X and defended your discovery against various kind of opposition. You are a regular employee and have no financial interest in spaceflight, neither stocks nor anything else—we checked. Therefore you are the perfect leader of this project and will also head the last expedition of mankind.”

  Maribel abruptly burst out laughing. Where were the hidden cameras? This could only be a silly joke, some farc
e Crewmaster lured her into, some reality TV show. However, no one joined in her laughter. The five men cast embarrassed glances at each other. The people in the outer circle, obviously the bosses’ personal assistants, put away their monitor screens and watched her inquisitively. Now would be the time for the whole thing to end!

  But no one jumped on the stage holding a microphone or a shoulder camera. Maribel abruptly realized that in a moment she would tip over backwards and crash, together with her chair. She clawed the edge of the table with both hands.

  “Would you like a glass of water?” Crewmaster offered. He signaled to a woman in the rear rows, who hurried to the water cooler at once and brought her a full cup. Maribel drank it greedily. Her rapid heartbeats started to slow down. Then she slid her chair back a bit. She needed some space around herself.

  “It would be an understatement to mention that I am surprised,” she finally said.

  “We noticed that,” Crewmaster said in a comforting tone, “and I should have given you prior warning.”

  “I would not have believed you,” Maribel said, “or I would not have come here at all.”

  “But now you are here,” observed the man from SpaceX.

  “You don’t expect an answer right away, do you?” she asked.

  “No.” Crewmaster reached for her hand and pressed it. “You can take a few days.”

  “Why don’t you give me some more details about the project? Then I would have a better basis for my decision.” She would not agree, never. This really was not the right job for her, but it could not hurt to gain a little more time.

  “Gladly, Maribel,” said the man from SpaceX. He is already using my first name! She read his nametag. ‘Thierry Fourcat.’ It looked French, but he had no accent. Maybe he is a Canadian? she wondered.

  “We have an almost-finished Mars spaceship in orbit,” he said. “The other one unfortunately is already near Mars. It is supposed to transport 100 passengers.”

  “Isn’t it too slow?” Maribel asked. “It needs six months to cover the distance to Mars, which is shorter.”