The Play Pod was divided into three main sections: the gym in the front, the pitches in the back, and the dojo off to the right. The gym contained several configurations of hydromills for low impact cardiovascular training, two convertible resistance strength machines, and a low climbing belt which was seldom functional. There were polymeth slabs within reach of all exercise stations, usually dripping with water droplets from nearby hydromills.
The dojo was a separate room off to the right which ran the entire length of the Play Pod. The floor consisted of well over a dozen nylon and foam tatami mats, intricately arranged according to tradition so as not to visit misfortune upon V1 by the corners of too many mats intersecting at a single point. The dojo was used for yoga, tai chi, jujitsu, and, when Arik was a child, for various lessons and games which required an open space and a soft floor.
The four enclosed pitches were in the back: two on each side with an open carbon rubber tiled area between. The walls dividing the front and back pitches could be removed to form two areas large enough for a full match of reduced cricket (five or six players per team). On the few occasions when enough players could be assembled for a game of standard cricket, two innings were played simultaneously in the adjacent pitches with the padded area between staked out by observers on picnic blankets or in plastic folding chairs.
Arik could see his father with Priyanka and Zorion in the front left pitch. He nodded to the occupants of the hydromills on his way back, and stood on the mats between the pitches, watching through the polymeth barrier. Darien was batting. He was standing in front of the spring mounted fiberglass wicket, eyeing Priyanka warily. Priyanka was considered the best bowler in V1, but Darien was a very competent batsman. In actual matches, they were considered to be ultimate rivals, but while practicing, they each focused on honing specific skills. Priyanka began his bowling action, and Arik saw that he was practicing his spin. The ball hit the mat and leapt away from Darien who stepped toward it and popped it off toward the back wall. The ball was soft and designed to absorb the majority of the shock in order to limit its travel in confined spaces. Zorion caught it off the back wall and made a dramatic motion before tossing it gently back to Priyanka. Darien was adjusting his stance and Priyanka was just beginning another action when the walls of the pitch brightened with an intense red glow.
Activities in the pitches were limited to sessions which were defined by the amount of oxygen consumed during play. It would take 15 minutes for the red to fade at which point they could begin another session. The three men relaxed and moved toward the door.
Darien emerged first, but stopped when he saw his son waiting for him.
"Is everything ok?"
Arik nodded. "I just need to talk to you when you have a minute."
"Sure."
"Hello, Arik," Priyanka said. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. Hi, Zorion."
"Afternoon, Arik," Zorion said with the exaggerated civility that playing cricket often evoked.
"I need to get back," Priyanka said. "As always, it was a pleasure."
"Same time next week?"
"To be sure."
Priyanka and Zorion left together through the gym. Darien started back through the door of the pitch.
"Give me a minute to gather my stuff."
Arik followed his father inside. You could stay inside a pitch between sessions as long as you weren't playing. If you began consuming oxygen faster than what was considered the standard rate, the walls would turn a deeper red rather than fading. If you persisted, an oxygen alarm would sound which even the most devout cricketers couldn't possibly play through.
"I don't have very much time," Arik said. "I have to get back soon. Can we talk in here?"
"Of course," Darien said. His soft eyes could look every bit as concerned as kind. "What's going on?"
Arik touched the wall and the door of the pitch snapped shut. Everything emanated crimson as the red wall lights glowed. "Cadie and I had a long talk last night. She told me about the baby. And about her conversation with Priyanka."
"Good," Darien said. He picked up his bat and pitched himself against it. Arik thought he seemed surprisingly casual about the conversation they were about to have — even prepared. "I wanted it to come from her. I hope you don't feel like you've been misled. I think everyone's been as open and upfront as they felt they could."
"Even about the baby?"
Darien lowered his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Arik leaned down and picked up the ball. "If the point of the baby was to replace me, why did Priyanka bring Cadie a DNA sample while I was still alive?"
"Arik," Darien said, "I don't know how much Cadie told you about your condition, but nobody expected you to recover. Priyanka was just acting on information from Dr. Nguyen."
"But Dr. Nguyen certainly knows that you can get a perfectly viable DNA sample from a cadaver. Or that DNA samples are easily preserved."
"I don't understand what you're getting at."
"What I'm getting at is that there was no reason for Cadie to get pregnant while I was still alive. Not if the goal was simply to replace a valuable resource."
"That's not exactly how I would have put it, but what else would the goal have been?"
"To try to force me into solving AP," Arik said. "To make the life of my unborn child depend on it."
Darien looked both surprised and skeptical, even a little annoyed. "Arik, you know that's not the way things are done here."
"How are things done here?"
"Ok," Darien said. "I agree that it might not have been the best course of action, but it was an emotional decision, not a logical one. A lot of people were very upset about what happened. Your mother and I were devastated. Cadie was devastated. I think everyone just wanted to feel like they were doing something. Including Cadie."
"Let's not discuss Cadie's motivations," Arik said. "They were clearly very different than Priyanka's."
Darien watched Arik wring the ball in his hands before he responded. "I imagine so," he said finally. "But I'm honestly not in a position to debate Priyanka's motives."
"Fair enough," Arik said. "That's not what I came here to talk about, anyway. It really doesn't matter what anyone's motives were. The real question is what we do now."
"Do?"
"About the fact that we don't have enough oxygen to support another human life," Arik said plainly. He indicated the red walls around them. "We don't even have enough O2 to play a full inning of cricket."
"How are things going at the Life Pod? Have you made any progress on AP?"
"Not enough to make a difference. Even if we figured out AP today, it would probably take months if not years to integrate the new processes into the life support systems."
"So what do you propose? I know you well enough to know you didn't just come here to present a problem."
Arik bounced the foam cricket ball against the hard rubber tiles and caught it. "I propose we build a second dome."
Darien looked confused. "Out of what?"
"Whatever we have. And whatever we can get from Earth."
"Arik, we can't just add a second dome. V1 was designed to have a single centrally located oxygen supply. The entire life support system would have to be modified to accommodate a second one. We'd need new fans, new duct work, new sensors. The oxygen allocation, conservation, and distribution algorithms would have to be rewritten. The purification systems would have to be reconfigured if not entirely replaced — all without disrupting the existing system, and all using manpower and resources we don't have."
"What about expanding the existing dome?"
"The dome was always meant to become obsolete, not to be expanded. Increasing the diameter of a geodesic dome by even a few centimeters changes the dimensions of every single panel in the entire structure. We might as well start from scratch. Even if we had the material to rebuild it, how do you propose we breathe in the meantime?"
"Ok," Arik conceded. "What about water electr
olysis? We have enough steel to build electrodes large enough that we should be able to decompose water into plenty of oxygen."
"Fine, then what would we drink?"
"Obviously we would need more water from Earth."
"Where would we store it? And how would adding huge amounts of additional water affect our current storage and delivery and treatment processes? Could the existing pumps and valves handle the additional pressure, or would they all need to be upgraded? How would additional water and pressure affect corrosion rates? Where would we get the massive amounts of additional energy needed not just for the decomposition itself, but to manage the hydrogen byproduct that's created at twice the rate of oxygen? And what are the risks of storing compressed hydrogen — which is extremely flammable, as you know — anywhere near electrodes? Arik, you have to understand that V1 is an incredibly intricate and delicate ecosystem that was designed by thousands of engineers over the course of decades. We can't just modify it any way we want. V1 has to be expanded according to its original design. There's really no other practical way to do it."
Darien's reaction was exactly what Arik expected. His own simulations had already eliminated all of these possibilities, and easily half a dozen more. He wasn't proposing them with the expectation that his father would be receptive; rather, he was preparing Darien for the fact that what he was about to propose was the only possible solution remaining.
"You're right," Arik said. "We can't do anything that would significantly modify the course of V1, or put anyone at risk. The life of one child couldn't possibly be worth risking the lives of the entire colony, especially the life of a child meant to replace someone who now doesn't need replacing. That means there's only one thing left to do."
Darien could see now that Arik had been setting him up. "Which is what?"
"We have to send Cadie and the baby to Earth."
Darien watched his son for a long time before responding. "You're obviously well aware of the fact that we couldn't possibility build the Earth Elevator in time to make a difference, so that can't be what you're proposing."
"We don't need a two-way system," Arik said. "I'm talking about sending a single person on a single one-way trip."
"How much thought have you given this."
"Enough to know that it's the only logical solution. First of all, it doesn't require any new technology. The GSA has landed and returned dozens of people from Mars, and hundreds if not thousands of people from the moon. A single mission to carry a single person from Venus to Earth is entirely within the GSA's capabilities. And it poses no risk to V1 whatsoever."
"But there isn't enough time. She'd have the baby before she could get to Earth."
"She'd have the baby before the GSA could even approve the mission," Arik said. "That's why she'd have to be put into cryogenic hibernation within 28 days from today, and she'd have to make the entire trip in hibernation."
"Doesn't that seem risky to you?"
"Hibernation has been used during medical emergencies several times. There's no reason to assume it would pose any special risk to Cadie or the baby."
"Have you thought about the fact that you might never see her again?"
"Yes."
"And that, to be perfectly blunt, you would probably end up alone for the rest of your life?"
"There's plenty here to keep me busy."
"Have you talked this through with Cadie yet?"
"No."
"Good," Darien said. The walls had lost their tint and were almost fully transparent again. Darien looked out into the gym. All but one of the hydromills were in use, and two people were sparring in the dojo. Darien touched the wall, then tapped on the control pad that appeared beneath his finger. The door sealed, and the polymeth walls electronically fogged until they were completely opaque.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to tell you something that I need for you to keep in the strictest confidence."
"Ok."
"This is not something to be taken lightly, Arik. If you accept the responsibility of what I'm about to tell you, this will be a burden that you may have to live with for the rest of your life. You can never discuss this with anyone besides me. Do you understand?"
"Of course."
"I don't really know how to say this, so I'll just come right out and say it. We haven't received anything but dead air from Earth since it emerged from the last radio eclipse."
"What do you mean dead air? We haven't been in contact with the GSA?"
"I mean we haven't picked up a single radio signal from anyplace on Earth."
"One of the communication satellites must have malfunctioned."
"We've tried them all. They couldn't have all malfunctioned."
"There could have been some sort of solar prominence that knocked them out. We wouldn't have detected it here because of the dense atmosphere. Or maybe the ERP antenna is down."
"All of our equipment is functioning fine, Arik. We can talk to Earth's communication satellites. They're all online, and according to their diagnostics reports, they're all functioning fine."
"What about the Moon bases?"
"Same thing. We can communicate with the bases themselves, but there's nobody there."
"Have we tried to get images?"
"We've pointed all the satellite cameras we have at Earth, but we don't have any telescopes up there, and we can't see anything significant under digital magnification."
"There's obviously something broken. You just haven't found it yet."
"Nothing's broken, Arik. Earth has simply stopped broadcasting. I'm not just talking about the GSA. I'm talking about everything on the planet that produces a radio wave strong enough to leave Earth's atmosphere."
Arik was shaking his head slowly. "That's impossible. How can this happen?"
"We don't know. It could have been some sort of global natural disaster, or it's possible that the GSA hasn't been honest with us about the political situation on Earth, and there could have been some kind of massive war. Or it could turn out to be something trivial we haven't thought of yet, and the GSA could start broadcasting again tomorrow. But considering what it would take to wipe out an entire planet's radio communication infrastructure in such a short amount of time, we need to take very seriously the possibility that we may never hear from Earth again."
Arik watched his father. He waited for Darien to continue — to offer some further explanation, to outline the next steps, to at least reassure him that something was being done — but Darien was finished.
"So what are we going to do?"
"The only thing we can do. We're going to keep listening and hope that we hear something. But in the meantime, we're going to assume that we're on our own from now on."
"On our own?" Arik was suddenly amused. "I hate to tell you this, but we can't survive on our own. If the GSA doesn't come back online—"
"Keep your voice down, Arik," Darien said. He spoke to his son with deliberate and forced calm. "It's not going to be easy, but we can do it. Remember, this is the whole reason for V1. This is why we've been working toward becoming self-sufficient. We already engineer all our own food, we recycle all our water, and we create our own atmosphere."
"For now we do, but what's going to happen the first time something goes wrong? What if our water tanks rupture? What if some sort of pathogen destroys the ferns? What if the main nuclear reactor melts down? There are hundreds of things that can go wrong. Thousands."
"Probably hundreds of thousands," Darien said, "but how many of those things would kill us all anyway, with or without Earth?"
Arik didn't know what to say. The tenuousness of their existence was not something he had ever seriously contemplated. He was as familiar with emergency procedures as anyone, but he never actually expected to use them. On a rational level, Arik understood the precariousness of their lives, but having been born and raised on Venus, he couldn't help but ascribe to V1 the illogical and unconditional safety of home. But his father was ri
ght. Any number of things could wipe them all out at any given moment. The reality was that they were alive due more to the merciful absence of a catastrophic event than to any real capability to prevent one.
Although something on the scale of total annihilation seemed far-fetched, the threat was certainly not without precedent. Millions of species had become extinct since life began on Earth — species much hardier than humans. After more than 160 million years of dominance, every dinosaur — no matter how powerful, intelligent, and well adapted — had been killed by a minuscule and insignificant cosmic coincidence. As recently as 70,000 years ago, a simple volcanic eruption in Sumatra triggered an ice age that led to the extinction of most human species, leaving a mere 1,000 reproductive pairs to give rise to modern man. Entire human cities had been destroyed by bombs, continents wiped out by plague, and ethnicities obliterated by genocide while the world stood by and watched, mouths agape, drinks in hand, dinner in the oven. Humans themselves were comprised of organic material manufactured in distant stars that had long since blown apart, destroying countless forms of life and alien civilizations in the process. V1 was built not because the destruction of Earth was possible; it was built because, given enough time, the destruction of Earth was inevitable, and from the perspective of the cosmos, today was really no different from a million or even a billion years from now. Arik began to understand that it wasn't confidence in our ability to keep ourselves safe that freed us from the constant fear of total annihilation — it was subconscious resignation born of our complete inability to prevent it.
"Arik," Darien continued, "I think there's a good chance that everything on Earth will turn out to be fine. But in the meantime, we need to continue doing what we've always done, and what we always will do. We need to play the odds. We have to decrease our exposure. We need to constantly reduce the number of variables that our lives depend on. I know it sounds incredible, but we have to assume that nothing less than the future of the entire human race is at stake."
Containment Page 13