The World Game

by Allen Charles

  “I think we have found a sign post pointing to our aliens.” said Fuller. “We need to look closely at the corresponding events and peaks.”

  He removed the other dimage screens and increased this one to take the whole wall, revealing a constant variation level between the spikes, like teeth on a saw. “Look at all that activity,” he exclaimed, “and we had no idea. Uh oh!” He stopped short, pointing to the far right end of the time line. The smooth line from the Dinkshif activation until the present was broken by a single spike that matched the turnover point and Zardooz’s knocking out the nuclear power. Fuller magnified this spike until it revealed that it had a flat top and had lasted for ten microseconds, the area under the spike representing the energy level of the event.

  “Call Graham in here now!” Fuller urgently ordered Sheila. He went back to the other spikes and examined them closely. They were all irregular in their profile, exhibiting some randomness. The squared off spike was something else all together. But what?

  “Here’s Graham.” said Sheila and went to let him in.

  Fuller went over the discoveries and the Zardooz situation and got Doc Lewis and Lucas to summarize their analyses, which were rapidly turning from the realm of ephemeral theory to solid fact.

  “So this spike,” said Fuller, pointing to the squared off anomaly, is the first indication since Dinkshif space and certainly out of character.”

  Graham perused the earlier spikes then concentrated on the last one. “The flat top is absolutely indicative that there is an artificial radiation source here. Let me think this through for a moment.”

  The group was silent as Graham stared intently at the dimage. He moved the fingers of his right hand as though he was playing the piano in the air. Doctor Lewis pursed his lips as he watched Graham processing and gave an almost unnoticeable nod of admiration for the mental aclarity and ability he was observing. Nothing unusual in this group of the top minds in the space program, but still worthy of appreciation, like viewing an old painting masterpiece actually being painted.

  “Do we have any other observation recordings, anything, for this time segment? I believe there should be a Dinkshif envelope integrity record in the system. You didn’t look at it before because it has no relationship to external radiation or other phenomena.”

  Fuller immediately pulled up the record Graham wanted and displayed the relevant time line segment below the universal radiation graph.

  There was an obvious bump in the line corresponding to the flat topped glitch. The rest of the line was essentially smooth.

  “We could say that this glitch occurred due to the power fluctuation when Zardooz did his thing, but by my calculations that should have resulted in a net deficit to the envelope integrity charge. What we are looking at here,” said Graham with authority, “is an increase in charge where the envelope was doing its job, trying to prevent a foreign body penetration by repelling it before it could hit. The power fluctuation just at that instant weakened the envelope integrity enough to allow something to pass through it. Looking at the flat top radiation blip here reinforces that theory because the energy represented by the area under the blip is significant. In fact I think we can work out the approximate mass and size of whatever penetrated by using the energy variable which will give us the mass, and the envelope resistance variable which will give us a cross sectional area of the object size. Then we will know what to look for. Maybe not where to look for it is the rub.”

  Fuller turned to the group. “People, we obviously have a security breach that unfortunately puts Zardooz on the back burner. I don’t believe he knew the extent of what he was doing, however the damage is done. Mr Graham, please do your calculations and take anyone you need to assist you. As soon as you have a result, publish it to all personnel and we will escalate the search from anything unusual to something more specific.

  Sheila, I want you to gather a strike team, those with combat and hostage experience, maybe three others, and work out a plan to pay a crash visit to Zardooz. We can’t spare any more people. Shaw must not be one of the team, regardless. Report to me when you have something.”

  “Col. Fuller,” the President had been sitting quietly at the back of the group through the whole series of meetings and developments, “there is one thing we need to consider.”

  “What is that please?”

  “We have the nano-paint transmitter. The aliens have somehow been observing us from time immemorial in some fashion. The Dinkshif effect obviously upset their observation system as we have just proved, so isn’t it logical to assume that whatever has entered our habitat was possibly not just a single observer device, but maybe a container for something like our nano-paint? Something that could spread through our spaces and observe, even cause disappearances again?”

  “Point taken Mr President. Get Mr Shaw in here. We need some way of identifying alien stuff that could be dust, paint, anything. Everyone else, move on your tasks and report in anything you feel out of place, even if it is a fleeting gut feeling.”

  The group dispersed except for Fuller, the President, Lewis and Lucas.

  Fuller pulled up a corner of his mouth and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oooookay gents!” he drew out to raise anticipation. “Here’s a first for psycho-analysis and FBI profiling. Can you profile our aliens?”

  “Worst case,” laughed Lucas, “is we’ll end up with a great Science Fiction story that no one will ever read, or we get a little lucky and come close.”

  Nickle lay sprawled in a stupor, dulled by the painkillers he kept popping. Every so often he lifted an eyelid to peer back at the bot’s charge light. it had gone from red to yellow. He needed green so he slumped back again.

  “Nickle? Oh Nickle, are you there?” sang Charonelle in her sweetest, most innocent little girl voice.

  “Bugger off!”

  “Nickle! I’m shocked! I just wanted to check on you!”

  “Sure you did. Like a fly checks on cow shit. Bugger off. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  He saw something change in the corner of his eye and was relieved to see a green light on the medic bot. He wasn’t entirely sure how to activate it to help him, so started with verbal commands.

  It didn’t move. But something flashed across the view screen on its front. He strained to move a little to read the scrolling message. It said “manual re-activation required. Press and hold on/off switch for ten seconds.”

  It was going to hurt again, but he had to worm his way closer to reach the switch he could see on the side. He slid out of the chair onto the floor like jello out of a mold.

  He stretched his right hand out and with excruciating pain from his broken fingers used his knuckle to hold the power switch down for the ten seconds that felt like ten hours. He heard the welcome message spoken by the bot and flopped back on the floor, completely spent and spread-eagled.

  The bot rolled out of its closet right over Nickle’s broken hand and he let out a shriek like never before heard in creation.

  “Sorry sir!” said the bot. “Still calibrating. What can I do for you sir?”

  Nickle gritted his teeth and said, “I have a broken hip, a broken arm and several broken and now crushed fingers. I am starving and dehydrated. What else do you want to know?”

  “What is your mother’s maiden name sir?”

  “WHAT?”

  “Your mother’s maiden name please sir. I need to validate your identity before providing treatment. You have a co-pay of thirty five credits if you check out okay.”

  “Aw!” moaned Nickle. “Mother’s maiden name was Gunston.”

  “That is correct sir. However, you said WAS, not is. Where is your mother now sir?”

  “She’s dead you dickhead robot. Has been for twenty five thousand years.”

  “My sincere condolences sir. As she is dead and I am unable to verify your response, let me ask some other security questions.”

  “JUST HELP ME YOU MORON!”

  “Abusive talk
will get you nowhere sir. What was the name of your first pet?”

  Nickle thought clearly for a moment. The idiot bot said “was” the name. Won’t matter if the pet is dead. “My first pet was called Rocky.”

  “Good sir. Now was Rocky one of the following, a squid, a porcupine or a dog?”

  “A DOG! NOW HELP ME!”

  “Excellent sir. How would you like to do your co-pay sir? I take credit card or direct debit of your account on file.”

  Nickle sighed in defeat.”Direct debit.”

  “Thank you sir. Please enter your pin number on my number pad sir.”

  “I can’t. My fingers are crushed because you ran over them.”

  “I do apologize sir. I will request a ten credit discount for your inconvenience. Now please enter the pin number.”

  “I just told you I can’t. One arm is broken and doesn’t move and my fingers don’t work on the other hand.”

  “One moment please!”

  The bot made some whirring noises and rolled around Nickle’s body, stopping at his only working limb, his right leg. “Please enter your pin using your toes sir.”

  “AAAAHHHGGG! I HAVE SHOES ON YOU IDIOT!”

  “Your ten dollar discount is cancelled due to further verbal abuse. Please remove your shoes.”

  “I can’t move.”

  “I will remove them for you sir. That will require a further thirty five credit co-pay.”

  “Fine. Do it. AAAHHHHGGG!” Nickle split the air with another scream of pain as his broken hip was wrenched by the bot pulling off the left shoe. It then did the right shoe.

  Nickle didn’t see the board going green all over for the first time in eons, as Charonelle surreptitiously routed feed to the control room. The network was getting off on Nickle’s agony because the real show was static.

  “Please input your pin sir.”

  Nickle raised his working leg and squinted at the pin pad six feet away. Even with socks on he figured he could hit the right four numbers. He went for it.

  “Sorry sir, incorrect pin number. Try again.”

  He tried again.

  “Almost sir. One number wrong. Try again.”

  “Please remove the sock on my right foot robot.”

  “Yes sir. That will be another thirty five credit co-pay.” The robot pulled off the sock, pinching and breaking the middle toe in the process. Nickle just whimpered. He had no scream left in him. He carefully aimed and pressed the correct sequence.

  “Very good sir. I need to do an IME sir to determine what procedures should be followed.”

  “What’s an IME?”

  “Initial Medical Examination. I will determine if I can treat you sir or if we have to send you to a trauma center.”

  “Robot, is there any way we can skip the IME and get down to treatment. I am in agony here and close to dying.”

  “Oh sir, I will immediately reclassify you as an emergency. All the co-pays are cancelled. Triage commencing!” The robot started making all sorts of dings and whistling noises as it ran around Nickle, sending probosci into his body, measuring and recording. “Most serious deficiency is hydration sir. I am inserting an intravenous feed of fluid and nutrients.”

  Arms and tools popped in and out of the medic bot and gradually Nickle started to look like an Egyptian mummy as his fractures were taped. The bot trundled into its closet and came back with an inflatable half body cast to immobilize the broken hip. Once applied, the bot lifted Nickle and placed him on his sleeping pallet and put Nickle into a deep sleep.

  The board went yellow and then blank.

  “Nickle? Oh Nickle?” wheedled Charonelle. “Nickle?”

  CHAPTER 76

  “We may have an identifier!” said Shaw excitedly. He and Corcoran had been using the nano-paint as the basis for the possible alien infiltration device. They had nothing else to go on. They had looked at detecting the emissions from the nano-paint but nothing was apparent unless and actual transmission was in progress, and even then it was almost impossible to detect as the nano-paint was programmed to detect the detector and shut down.

  What Shaw and Corcoran had found was that a spectrum analysis of the interface between the nano-paint and the base paint or varnish layer showed a distinct spectral variation. As good as the nano-paint was, it was programmed to fool the human eye, not a precision instrument that was never expected by the designers of nano-paint. The spectrum analyzer viewer consistently showed a line when nano-paint was present.

  “Okay Gerald, let’s go look around with this.” Corcoran led off with the spectral analyzer held in front of him like a flashlight with a view screen at the back. It was standard equipment on the transports for detecting micrometeorite hull leaks. The escaping molecules of gas altered the spectrum of reflected light off the hull, just as it had detected the nano-paint earlier.

  Corcoran paused and turned to Shaw, saying, “If you were an alien hooked on voyeurism and getting off on violence and sex, where for certain would you put a spy? And especially if it was your favorite X-rated couples, Hannaford and Shaw and Johnson and Martin?”

  Shaw looked at Corcoran wide eyed. “Not in my bed room they don’t.” He took off, Corcoran trailing with the spectral analyzer. At least Shaw’s mind was temporarily off the predicament his wife and child were in.

  They reach Shaw’s living quarters and burst in, looking about and swinging the spectral analyzer all over the place. “Hang about.” Corcoran stopped. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s be scientific again. Stop, look and think. Where would you get the best view of the hottest couple in the universe?”

  “Above the bed!”

  They moved into the master bed room and turned on the lights. The walls had pictures and mirrors attached. The ceiling was flat white with illumination panels strategically set for gentle illumination. Above the double bed was a clean expanse of ceiling.

  Corcoran aimed the analyzer at the center of the ceiling, above the bed, and peered at the screen. “Well what have we here?” Shaw looked over his shoulder. “What we have here is an interesting spray of spectrally different dots, but we are not getting a line definition.” He hit the magnification times twenty which brought a small area of the scatter into focus revealing dots within the dots. Further magnification was unable to resolve a final particle size. It was too small for the analyzer’s optical function which could get down to cellular level, but not molecular or atomic.

  “We need a sample for analysis.” said Shaw, climbing up on the bed to reach the low ceiling.

  “No! Don’t touch it! You’ll tip them off that we found them.”

  “Doesn’t matter, they won’t know for days or even weeks. We look like a frozen movie screen to them because our time has virtually stopped relative to the universe. That they even inserted this stuff doesn’t make sense to me and there have been no disappearances since it happened.” He reached up and carved a circle of paint away with his utility knife, peeling the circle of emulsion away like wallpaper and dropping it into a bag.

  Corcoran had the analyzer pointed at the spot. “The dots are moving in to fill the space. They must be autonomous like our nano-paint. Hold up the bag for me.” He trained the analyzer on the bag. “They have grouped to the center of the patch. About the size of a cent coin. Let’s get back to the lab.”

  Now they knew what they were looking for, Corcoran kept scanning walls and ceilings all the way back. Apart from a true patch of dirt, the complex was infested with small, strategically positioned patches of alien transmitters.

  Shaw had notified Fuller of their success and he was waiting for them, after giving Sheila and her team the go ahead on their rescue plan. The rest of the personnel were searching for the alien delivery vehicle while Lewis and Lucas were close to developing the likely alien profile.

  Sheila’s team had the most intensive job at that moment. Fuller had search teams close by ready to back Sheila up in an instant and the Doctor and Lucas were ready to drop their task and assist
her in negotiating.

  The four team members were at the access hatch and already cutting away the lock mechanism with a small laser torch. It fell away to the pseudo gravity and the hatch swung open easily. The tunnel behind was just an unlit crawl tunnel, so they crawled. Sheila carried a flashlight and locator that was fed by the central dimage. As they moved, it added the unknown tunnels to the map.

  She stopped suddenly so she would not slip forward as the tunnel sloped sharply down. She could see small ridges in the floor ahead, obviously for friction to allow movement up the incline and prevent uncontrolled sliding down. If not for the youniform, her knees would have been shredded. She moved on cautiously, noting that the tunnel was man made of concrete and not carved from bed rock. Up ahead she could see an end wall and a deep shadow to the right where the tunnel turned.

  She signalled her team to stop, turned off her flashlight and moved forward, feeling her way to the edge of the corner. She peeked around and pulled back, expecting to see more darkness. The latent image in her mind showed a grating with a little light slipping through. A ventilation duct screen. She signalled to move forward, complete silence.

  At the screen Shelia took out a syringe with a long tube instead of a needle and slipped it through the lowest slot, right in a corner where it would not be noticed, and depressed the plunger for one drop of the liquid to be expelled.

  The thinned nano-paint flowed out and onto the chamber wall, returning an image to their youniform viewers instantaneously. It was not a scene that anyone had expected. Fuller and his group watching in real time were astonished.

  The view was of the annex to the main reactor room, with control panels and screens around the perimeter. The focus was the group in the center of the room.

  Felicity was taped to a chair by her wrists and ankles, a piece of duct tape over mouth. Next to her, looking frantically wide eyed at the vent and wagging his head negatively, was Zardooz, similarly taped up. Beside them stood Arjmand who had wrapped some cloth around his head to make a turban, holding little Jodie and talking to her in Farsi, waving his free arm about and with a wild look in his eyes.