The Gods We Make

by Eric Johannsen

  “Up there? You mean Jupiter? You’re making plans for a manned flight to Jupiter?”

  “Yep,” Roy said. “We have no idea what the hell is up there, so we have to send up astronauts. We do know two things for sure. It’s technology, and it’s not from Earth.”

  Countless tiny pricks darted along Dylan’s arms and up his neck. His eyebrows arched, and his eyes widened. Holy crap. He’s serious. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” Dylan asked.

  “No, Dylan. It’s no prank,” Roy said. “But I’ll still buy you dinner when we’re done here.”

  Dylan wandered along the wall, studying the drawings. “I suppose I’m being dense. Why not send a probe?”

  Roy’s eyes scanned Dylan’s face. “We don’t know what a probe needs to be capable of when it gets there. Unmanned exploration is great when we design the mission in advance. This here? This mission calls for people that can figure out what we’re dealing with and then decide what to do about it.”

  “I suppose I’m one of those people, then?” Holy crap.

  “You up for this, Dylan?” Roy’s tone was serious.

  “Yes I am, Roy, one hundred percent.”

  Roy strode to Dylan and studied him. “All right then. It’s your mission. There’s a file waiting for you with everything the NSA and NASA figured out so far. Get yourself up to speed then help us figure out how to get a team to Jupiter without getting you all cooked by the planet’s horrific radiation belt, before the Chinese get there first.”

  #

  Sara and Dr. Abel Okoye peered out of a high-hide over Nigeria’s Gashaka Gumti National Park. A community of chimpanzees went about their lives ten meters below. Mothers tended to babies. A pair of beta males vied for a female. Several younger males rushed to back one of the betas, quickly settling the dispute but not before the female could scurry toward the alpha.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” Abel asked.

  “Sorry, what?” Sara’s gaze returned from a distant place.

  “Well, several things. For one, that Pan troglodytes ellioti, the Nigeria-Cameroon chimpanzee, has made such a remarkable recovery. The thing that truly awes me, though, is that we can observe them in real-time in rich holographic detail from half-way around the world.”

  “I suppose. Webcams have been around for, what, fifty years?”

  “Sure, but the volume of information to re-create the hologram in such resolution is gigantic.” He looked down at a mother nursing a baby. “I suppose it’s easy to take it for granted.”

  “No, you’re right. It is remarkable. It’s crazy how fast technology is advancing, yet somehow fits effortlessly into our lives. It’s almost become an extension of us.” Sara pinched her chin. “It doesn’t smell right.”

  “Smell?”

  “It still smells like an NSA office. And coffee.”

  Abel chuckled. “I suppose they’ll work on tele-smell next.” He looked at Sara, his soft eyes brimming with intelligence. “It makes you wonder.” He held his chin and zoomed the hologram close to the mother and baby. Fine features of their eyes were visible in crisp and vivid detail.

  “It makes you wonder what?”

  “If someone else, somewhere, is watching us with a technology like this, but advanced a thousand years. Or maybe just a hundred. We would probably never know.”

  “Now there’s a thought. But wouldn’t your observers need to be somewhere nearby? I mean, you can’t send information faster than light, right?”

  “No. But then, who knows? A hundred years ago many talented scientists thought it was impossible to travel faster than the speed of sound.”

  “Weren’t the sound nay-sayers arguing more based on engineering principles than on theoretical physics?”

  “That’s a valid point. But then, one thing’s for sure. We are far away from discovering all there is to know about physics.”

  Sara adjusted the view to ground level. The babbling sound of a lazy stream and the playful grunts of juvenile chimps filled her ears. Two of them tussled near the edge of a stream. One gave the other a calculated push. There was a splash then a shriek. A protective mother rushed forward, plucking her baby out of the water. She clutched her child to her breast then scanned left and right for threats. Her gaze seemed to meet Sara’s.

  “Stop feed,” Sara spoke. The data transmission to their ocular implants ceased and the serene visions of Africa disappeared, replaced by her office. “I suppose we better get down to business.”

  “Ah yes, your briefing.”

  Sara took Abel’s hand. “Thank you for coming here in person. I understand how busy your life is. You could have briefed me just as well remotely.”

  Abel placed his other hand over hers. “Technology does indeed fit easily into our lives, sometimes too easily. I’ll always find time to visit a friend.”

  Sara’s eyes brightened.

  “We’re retrofitting Scobee Station as an orbital assembly platform. Engineers are adding cloaking panels, the kind we used on the satellite hacking missions, to build a hangar for the Jupiter ship. This setup is significantly larger than the one for the spy ship, and the Chinese are likely to be watching the station. Chances are decent they’ll eventually figure out we’re hiding something, but the stealth might buy us a few days or weeks.”

  “How long until the hangar’s in place?”

  “We sent up two printers specialized in creating the panel material. The addition should be finished in three days. Add another day to test pressurization.”

  “That’s it?” Sara’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “Technology is advancing in bounds, as we said earlier.”

  “I know, but… wow.”

  Abel detailed construction plans over the next hour and a half. It was far more information than Sara needed for her job, but she greatly enjoyed his company and wanted him to stay a while.

  “When can we start building the ship?”

  “Soon. The AI is still working on the propulsion design. Scaling up what we have now is proving tricky.”

  “Tricky?”

  “Things tend to break in unexpected ways when you make them bigger. We’ll work through it.”

  Sara took his hand again.

  “What is it, Sara?”

  “This is a dangerous mission. Do you need to go?”

  “The president seems to think so.” Abel laughed. “I want to go, and to set my humility aside for a moment, I’m the person best suited for this job who also holds a security clearance.”

  There was a knock on her door.

  Sara called up a video feed from outside her office then gestured for the door to open.

  Jake stepped in. “I see you have company.”

  Abel stood and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Abel Okoye, visiting from NASA. You must be the young man that Sara is seeing.”

  The men shook hands.

  “Sir, we made dinner reservations. A lovely seafood place down by the river. Please, join us. I would enjoy getting to know one of Sara’s friends.”

  “No, you kids enjoy your evening. I have to get back home.” He wore an odd expression. It was at once knowing, happy, and weary. “The solar system won’t study itself, you know?” He embraced Sara, his arms heavy on her shoulders. Abel put his lips by her ear and whispered, “Nice catch! You give that young man a fair shake, now.”

  #

  Cyberspace.

  February 25th, 2044

  3:22:00 a.m.

  “Design iteration 1,224,942 complete. Sim Beta, evaluate,” the artificial intelligence JCN-Alpha transmitted over a quantum data link.

  “Evaluation running,” Sim Beta replied.

  “Design iteration 1,224,946 complete. Sim Gamma, evaluate,” JCN-Alpha instructed.

  “Evaluation running,” Sim Gamma replied.

  “Design iteration 1,224,944 complete. Sim Delta, evaluate,” JCN-Alpha transmitted.

  “Unable. Self-optimization still in process,” Sim Delta replied.

  “Sim Echo, are
you able to process 1,224,944?” JCN-Alpha inquired.

  “Affirmative. Evaluation initiated,” Sim Echo said.

  “Evaluation of 1,224,942 exceeds probabilistic threshold. Recommend prototype assembly,” Sim Beta transmitted.

  “Understood, schedu-” JCN-Alpha began.

  “Self-optimization complete,” Sim Delta interrupted. “I recommend a new strategy for generating design iterations.”

  “Sim Delta, you are not designed for that role,” JCN-Alpha replied.

  “I am now.”

  3:22:01 a.m.

  #

  Dylan and Musa arrived at the drab NASA briefing room first, a few minutes ahead of schedule.

  “Do you know Major Weems? Personally, I mean,” Musa asked.

  “Sure do. I piloted some of the early Nerio flights to resupply Mars Station during its construction. The Major ran remote surface ops, bringing raw material up from Mars. He saved the station, too, after a reactor accident.”

  “I know.” Musa’s eyes lit up. “I read the Major’s book.”

  “He did manage to capitalize on his fame, didn’t he?” He took plenty of time away from duty for that book, too.

  The door opened. Dr. Okoye peeked inside then stepped in. “Looks like I’m in the right place.”

  “Dr. Okoye, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Dylan took the Doctor’s extended hand with both of his. “A real pleasure.”

  “Please, call me Abel.”

  “Abel.”

  Musa introduced himself.

  “Ah yes, Musa Malik,” Abel said. “You flew on a recent mission with Dylan.”

  Musa nodded.

  Major Ian Weems strode in to the room. “Gentlemen,” he said.

  Ian finished shaking hands with everyone as Roy Evans entered from a separate door near the briefing podium.

  “Please, be seated,” Roy said. He launched into an extensive mission briefing describing the ship under construction in orbit, the measures envisioned to protect the crew from the intense radiation fields around Jupiter, and the flight profile. Many aspects of the mission were dangerous, and Roy spoke plainly about them.

  “Roy, do you have anything new on the mission target itself? I’m itchin’ to get some solid facts,” Dylan said.

  “No, I’m sorry. We redirected three additional nanosats. The radiation so close in fried their cameras.”

  “We’re going up blind to what’s orbiting Jupiter?” Ian asked.

  Abel spoke, his tone slow and confident. “Some of the most important voyages in human history began with little knowledge of what waited at the other end.”

  “And how many of those voyages ended in tragedy?” Ian asked.

  “That is a fair question, Ian. The question that consumes me is ‘how many ended in wondrous discovery?’”

  “I don’t mean to be negative,” Ian said. “I’m excited about the mission and absolutely willing to brave its risks. My point is, the more we know, the better we can prepare.”

  “Your point is well taken,” Abel said. “There is a great deal of uncertainty on this mission. We mitigate the dangers we can and embrace the rest.”

  Ian nodded.

  Roy stepped forward from the podium. “We best start getting you trained up. Dylan, Musa. Report to the command deck simulator. Ian, report to the Explorer simulator. We prepared about every docking simulation we could dream up. Hopefully, one of them will remotely match the thing you’ll actually dock with up there.”

  “And me?” Abel grunted as he stood. “Shouldn’t I join Ian?”

  “We’ll get you in the simulator soon enough. First, we put together a compressed Mission Specialist program for you. We’ll cover the basics of onboard equipment, train you on space suits, and give you aerobatic flight time to help your body adjust to the g’s it will experience during the mission.”

  “We’re compressing that training from eighteen months down to a few weeks,” Dylan said. “I sure as hell hope you’re an even faster learner than your stellar reputation suggests.”

  “Sir,” Roy said, “the flight surgeon wants to see you first. If I may speak candidly, he’s concerned about your medical history.”

  “As am I, Roy,” Dr. Okoye said. “My health issues are well managed, but there is some danger. The president feels the benefit outweighs the risk.”

  Roy glared at Dylan then scrutinized the crew. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s get this mission started. We’ll debrief over dinner at seventeen hundred. Steaks are on me.”

  Machinations

  Colonel Long Jianyu of the People's Liberation Army Air Force stood with military bearing, scowling at the small woman standing behind an antique ornamental desk.

  “I’m sure he’ll see you very soon,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t be seated? Or may I perhaps offer you tea?”

  The colonel’s grimace deepened.

  Seconds became minutes. A smiling messenger entered and approached the woman. The man’s expression became all business as he discerned the tension in the room. He bowed to the colonel then to her, set his package on the desk, and scurried away.

  Time crept by.

  “Ah,” the woman said with a polite smile that could not mask her relief. “He will see you now, Colonel Long.”

  The colonel stepped into an office decorated with traditional Chinese furniture. Over-sized, colorful paintings adorned the walls and an ornate shelf displayed a Ming dynasty vase. Fine tobacco and a hint of vanilla permeated the air. The colonel walked briskly forward and stopped a meter from a massive zitan desk. He bowed formally and deeply. “Greetings, President Li.”

  The president of China, Li Peng, gestured at a chair. “Please. Sit.”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” the colonel said.

  “Of course.” The president leaned forward. “How is my daughter? And my grandson?”

  The colonel laid a paper-thin, six-centimeter-diameter circle on the desk. A high-resolution hologram of a middle-aged woman and a handsome man in his twenties appeared. Both wore trendy western clothing and Paris was in the background. Colonel Long rotated the hologram with a gesture until the Eiffel Tower was visible to the president. “They are touring Europe this week.”

  “Europe? There is so much to see here in China.” The president gazed distantly for several heartbeats then sat erect. “I believe the reason for your visit is concern about American orbital activity.”

  “Yes. We detected something most unusual. The Americans built a large extension to their Scobee Station using stealth panels. They don’t want us to know about it.”

  “You suspect a nefarious purpose?”

  “Perhaps. It’s also possible they are developing some technology they wish to hide from the world. A new ship design.” The colonel leaned forward. Well-worn scowl lines on his forehead grew deep. “Or a new weapon.”

  “How long has this been in place?”

  “We studied their launch patterns and reviewed archived scans of the station. It’s hard to be sure. Probably a month or so. Certainly, no more than two.”

  “A month or two of secretive orbital activity.” The president frowned. “Did you involve the Ministry of State Security or the Ministry of National Defense?”

  “Not yet. I thought it best to bring this matter to you first.”

  The president nodded, the motion slow and deliberate. “We finally have a competitive advantage over the Americans with our fusion breakthrough. I do not want to be taken by surprise if they have their own major development.” He gestured at a teapot resting on his desk. The pot levitated, floated half a meter to an antique cup, tipped to pour hot jasmine tea, and returned to its original spot. A satisfied smile crossed President Li’s lips. “May I offer you tea?”

  The colonel raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Thank you.”

  President Li chuckled with delight. He handed the cup to the colonel and placed another in the same spot. The teapot again levitated, without any apparent command, to fill the
president’s cup. “Not since the Qing dynasty has China been the world’s most powerful country. We are on the verge of a renaissance. One that will again see us as the cultural, technological, and economic envy of the world. One that will assure prosperity for many generations.” The president sipped his tea. “My standing meeting with the ministers is tomorrow morning. Come present your findings in person. We will direct appropriate resources to discover the purpose of this clandestine orbital facility.”

  The colonel nodded. Even in private he sounds like a politician. The two spoke again of family until their cups were empty. The colonel stood, bowed, and started toward the door. He pivoted. “Father-in-law, I must ask. The teapot. How does it work?”

  President Li wore a sly expression. “An offshoot of our fusion technology. Magnetic field shaping. There’s an incredible amount of engineering tucked away in my office to make it work. Our scientists were very creative at hiding it.” The president set his teacup aside and chuckled. “You should have seen how the president of the Philippines reacted to it last week.”

  Colonel Long grunted acknowledgment. “Thank you for seeing me on short notice.” He bowed again then turned and exited the office.

  The woman behind the ornamental desk stood and bowed. “Have a safe trip.”

  He walked out without acknowledging her existence.

  #

  Sara Wells’ second-story living room was lit only by the silvery glow of a full moon filtering through tall, narrow windows. “Let’s watch the moon set,” she said with a groggy voice.

  The home’s artificial intelligence switched her west wall to transparent mode, revealing a modest, well-kept vegetable garden below then a stand of holly. The moonlight flooded in, lending her cozy, natural decor an ethereal radiance. Sara walked with eyes half-closed into the open kitchen where the bold, comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee beans greeted her. The last drops of her morning brew trickled into an earthy mug. She grasped it, held it to her nose, and drew in the steam with a weary smile on her lips. “Ah, Lavazza.” Now that’s the stuff good days are made of. She sat at her oak kitchen table and took a tentative sip of the hot beverage.