The Sixteen Galaxies

by William Drayman

  When Nuthros had proposed this journey, Hiram was both scared and elated. True, they were only there in a sense; in reality they were both still on board Nuthros’ ship. But, the solidified light hologram technology was so effective at transmitting all the sights, sounds and even smells of their surroundings, that Hiram was unable to tell the difference in this epitome of virtual reality. At first, he was reluctant to subject himself to what was still technically a prototype technology. But, as Nuthros said, the project had over 500 years of development behind it.

  Nuthros pointed to the white building at the top of the mountain. “The council hall. Would you prefer us to just portal there, or take the scenic route?”

  Hiram didn’t hesitate. “The scenic route, please.”

  Nuthros conducted him down a pathway that looked like stone, but was, in fact, a little soft underfoot. Oddly, their speed was dependent on their distance from the edge of the path; the closer to the centre of the path, the faster they moved, it took some getting used to. They ‘strolled’ through gardens of strange flowers and plants, slowing and accelerating at will. One type of flower in particular grabbed Hiram’s attention. About every minute or so, the flowers would change colour; not instantly, but fading from one tone to the next in a continuous wave of colour. Children played and ran around the two men. Every so often, a child would stop and give Nuthros a hug. He knew them all by name and asked after their families.

  One young boy, who Hiram guessed was about ten, offered a hand to Hiram. Hiram shook hands and the youngster bowed. “Greetings, friend. My name is Danila. Do you like my flowers?” He pointed to the flowers that changed colours.

  Hiram gave Nuthros a brief puzzled look, but said graciously; “My name is Hiram. I am pleased to meet you too, Danila. I think your flowers are very beautiful.”

  “Thank you. My father says they are my best work yet.”

  Nuthros laughed at Hiram’s bemused expression. “Hiram is from a new planet, Danila. He doesn’t know very much about us, yet.” He turned to Hiram. “Danila’s father is a botanical designer, and Danila is his apprentice.”

  A young girl of about twelve came forward. “My name is Tenseel. I designed the Kentiks.” She gently took hold of one of the spiral-winged insects. “My father had to help me, as I am only in my fourth year, and I haven’t done flight dynamics, yet.”

  Hiram stared in awe at the group of youngsters. “Alright, young ones,” Nuthros said, “Please give poor Hiram some time to adjust. He may have the opportunity to ask you more about your projects later.”

  The children ran off and Hiram scratched his head in wonder. “Botanical design at ten? Bio-engineering at twelve? Are they all savants, Nuthros?”

  Nuthros laughed. “Hiram, what your people consider savants are just normal children here. Every child learns their parent’s field first. When they mature, they begin to choose whatever areas they would like to explore next.”

  “So there is no school, no college, and no university?”

  Nuthros put a hand on Hiram’s shoulder. “I wish I could help you take it all in at once, Hiram. But, our society is far too different to your own for that to happen.” They walked on, and he continued, “There is no need for any formal qualifications in the Sixteen Galaxies. We have no currency, and no real form of occupation, as such. People just do what they most want to do, and our society benefits from their work. When need arises, there is always someone who tackles the task, out of a sense of communal responsibility.”

  Hiram tried to grasp the concept, but it was so foreign, so alien. “What about safety, though? I mean, surely you don’t have children playing with nuclear fusion in the backyard.”

  Nuthros roared with laughter. “Yes, that might be somewhat hazardous.” He sobered. “The children are their parent’s responsibility, Hiram. Who better to keep children safe in their adventures than those who cherish them the most?” He stopped and turned to Hiram. “In fact, that is one of the most contrary things about your people. Your governments become more and more obsessed with safety, laws and education with every year that passes. Yet, any two people who so desire, can bring a child into your world. No qualifications, no mandatory education, no income level and no specific knowledge needed. Why is that, do you think?”

  Hiram thought about that. “I’m afraid I have no idea, Nuthros. I guess we see parenthood as a right.”

  Nuthros nodded slowly. “A right, yes, I can see that. But is it not also a great responsibility? So many children born into a poverty they then exacerbate merely by their existence.”

  Hiram inclined his head. “Indeed, my friend, indeed. What of your people, Nuthros? How do you control your population? Surely, if everyone lives eternally, your planets must fill up.”

  “Oh yes, certainly. We are an ever-expanding society, Hiram. However, there are always more planets available than people needed to fill them.”

  “How do you set a cap on your population for each planet, then?”

  Nuthros spread his arms. “How much water do you put in a glass, Hiram?”

  Hiram laughed. “Enough to fill it.”

  “Quite.” Nuthros resumed his stroll. “Consider this, though; in the Sixteen Galaxies, our lives are potentially eternal. Fertility is not the sole province of people in their first millennium. When a couple have a child, they do so as mature, balanced, and well-prepared adults. They nurture and love their child as the blessing that it truly is. It is not just a matter of raw numbers, Hiram, it is a matter of quality.”

  “It seems to me,” Hiram said, “That humanity should have stopped pouring out people quite a while ago.”

  Nuthros shrugged. “Not really, Hiram. The Earth could hold many more than it currently does. In fact, your own demographic research showed that ‘Peak Child’ was reached in about the year 2000, did it not?”

  “Indeed it did,” Hiram replied.

  “So, your population growth is now directly tied to the longevity of your existing population. You are on track to naturally stabilize at about 11 billion, are you not?”

  “I have heard that figure before, yes.”

  “The problems, then,” Nuthros continued, “Are the large amount of land area that has been rendered uninhabitable, inadequate and very unbalanced distribution, and a large amount of waste. I still hold out hope that we might change that, although Kestil has made a mess of things.”

  Hiram waved a hand at the surrounding scenery. “So how much of this is made, Nuthros?”

  “On this planet, a lot of it has either been created, or brought in, Hiram. Kareetha was virtually a desert planet at the start, much like your planet Mars. The mountains were here, of course, but it was all very arid. But, Kareetha had water, oceans of it. That would have changed over time, though. The atmosphere was dissipating, you see. So, we created an artificial shield in the upper atmosphere, to mitigate radiation, stabilize the atmosphere and increase the humidity. We needed Kareetha; it was our only logical choice. It is in the centre of the Sixteen Galaxies, and the only planet of its size at the right distance from its star.”

  “How long did it all take?”

  Nuthros shrugged. “About 10,000 years or so.”

  “Seems an awfully short time to transform a planet, if you ask me,” Hiram replied.

  “If I’d asked you a week ago, I should imagine you would have said it was impossible, Hiram. Yet, here we are.”

  “I can’t argue with you there, my friend.”

  They arrived at a small pier, where Nuthros invited Hiram to step aboard one of the curious sailboats. Hiram peered at the aerofoil, which did not swivel freely, but turned by rotating the mast. He noticed the sheet itself was not flexible, and was about one inch thick. It was made of a material that appeared transparent to a degree. Nuthros indicated he should take a seat. When they were both comfortable, Nuthros waved a hand at the pier, which released the craft.

  The foil pivoted until it was 90 degrees to the breeze. Hiram could see no controls, but the little vess
el headed away from the pier and pointed itself at the base of the mountain. It then accelerated to a speed which Hiram found intoxicating; the sail now 90 degrees to the hull and staying there. The lake was at least three miles across, but Hiram didn’t think it would take very long to reach the other side at this rate. The sail emitted a quiet, high-pitched hum, which Hiram asked Nuthros about.

  “The sail material is a high-strength composite,” Nuthros explained. “The surface is actually covered with miniature venturi; each with a small turbine in the centre. The batteries that run the repeller thrusters are charged as the boat sits idle, and then by the wind passing through the sail in either direction when it’s moving. This tech is ridiculously elaborate, and very old, as it happens. We just keep it around because it’s an enjoyable pastime. After all, we can portal anywhere we want.”

  “Who makes all this equipment, though? Do you have industrial planets?”

  Nuthros laughed. “No, Hiram, no industry at all, really. People design whatever they want and it is fabricated by programmable machines. Your people gave them the name Nano-bots, though ours are larger than Nano scale. They construct everything from raw matter which is collected by other machines. Most comes from waste, but that is supplemented by material gathered from dead planets and asteroid belts. Everything from dwellings to spaceships is made with the same process.”

  They arrived at a small jetty at the base of the mountain. The journey had taken perhaps three minutes. About 60 miles per hour, Hiram thought. Yet, they had been overtaken by other boats going much faster.

  At the foot of the mountain stood a stone archway. The inside of the archway looked like a black sheet of glass. Nuthros led Hiram into it, and through it. Hiram stepped out the other side and found himself at the top of the mountain.

  “An old style of portal,” Nuthros explained. “About 6,000 years old, in fact. We at the council tend to be a bit nostalgic about these things. Personal portal jumping is the most practical way of getting around, of course, but sometimes it’s good to step back in time and experience something more traditional.”

  Hiram laughed at the idea of a portal providing instantaneous travel between two points being ‘back in time’. Another man stood at the entrance to the council hall. Tall and well-built, with flowing blonde hair, the man wore a broad smile beneath his bright blue eyes.

  “Brantok, my dear friend!” Nuthros embraced the other man warmly.

  “It’s good to see you, Nuthros.” He took a step back and eyed up the hologram. “It looks and feels completely genuine, Nuthros. How does it feel from your end?”

  “Very satisfactory, very satisfactory indeed. Now, please allow me to introduce Hiram Sertan, of planet Earth. Hiram, this is Council Member Brantok.”

  Brantok shook Hiram’s hand with a firm grip. “Welcome to Kareetha, my friend. Please, come inside. The council is very keen to meet you.”

  *****

  Frank Soames had been the chief engineer at Vincent Technologies’ research and development facility for twenty years. In all that time, he had met Donald Vincent just five times. The last time was burned in his memory. There had been an accident at the facility, which resulted in three people seriously injured and one who actually died a day later. At the time, Mr Vincent proved both kind and understanding. He was much more interested in ensuring such a disaster never happened again than in pointing the finger of blame at anyone, much to Frank’s relief.

  This time, Mr Vincent had invited him to come in to the head office. He had no idea what for. They had their share of problems, as did any research facility, but he could think of nothing that warranted being called to the CEO’s office. When he arrived, he was ushered into Donald Vincent’s presence by a sombre-looking butler, offered a glass of whatever took his fancy and invited by the boss to join him on the patio overlooking the city. When they got outside, Donald asked Frank to look at some plans.

  When Frank looked over the plans, he suddenly felt cold. He looked at his boss, in a search for answers to questions he dare not ask.

  Donald Vincent’s face was blank. “Well, Frank, what do you think?”

  Frank could see no easy way out. “This is a design for a low-energy nuclear reactor, sir. In other words, cold fusion.”

  “I know.”

  “Well sir, cold fusion is an old chimera - pathological science; I guess the layman’s term would be smoke and mirrors, hocus-pocus, or even just wishful thinking.”

  Vincent smiled. “You know, Frank, the one thing I prize above all else is honesty. I am happy to know I have you as head of my R&D department. Now, I’d like you to take a look at this.”

  Vincent passed Frank a sheet of equations. Frank looked it over and peered at his boss. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “What don’t you understand, Frank?”

  “Well, this is a description of a version of cold fusion. But, it uses this element; which is…Roentgenium. It’s…well, it’s not real, sir. I mean, it’s been synthesised in a heavy ion accelerator. But that was just a few atoms, and we still don’t really know anything about it. Aside from the fact that it’s highly unstable and radioactive. The most stable isotope has a half-life of 26 seconds. Not only that, but it’s a transitional metal, which means it’s not really feasible as a fuel.”

  Vincent passed Frank another set of plans. As he pored over them, Frank started to feel even more uneasy. “Umm…sir, where did you get these plans?”

  Vincent shook his head. “That’s on a need to know basis, Frank. And you don’t need to know. My question to you is; can you build this?”

  Frank frowned and had another look at the plans. There were similarities to the original plans Vincent had already shown him. But, the design was radical and unlike anything he had ever seen. “I can build it okay, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem. But, much of this chamber here, and these two tanks here and here, are lined with gold. Not gold plated, sir, but lined with it. That’s going to make it horrendously expensive. Of course, it is also fuelled by Roentgenium, which, as we already discussed, is not real. At least, not yet. Plus, as I said before, I can’t see how it can possibly be used as a fuel.”

  “Let me tell you something, Frank. We have worked as a silent partner in a research facility for five years now; all very classified stuff. Not only can they produce a Roentgenium isotope in decent quantities, but they have a containment system which can both store it and transfer it safely to the reactor while temporarily suspending its radioactive decay. And that reactor,” he tapped the plans, “Burns that isotope as a fuel.”

  Frank was astounded. This wasn’t just cutting edge stuff, it was hundreds, if not thousands of years away. To not only produce a previously unobtainable element in commercial quantities, but contain it and prevent its natural decay rate? And then get it to burn as a fuel? “This is just amazing sir, truly amazing. That the whole thing’s been done without a word to the general scientific community is unprecedented.” It was also totally unbelievable, Frank thought. Best to keep that to himself, though.

  Donald Vincent smiled at him. “So, let me ask you one more question, Frank; how well would this work?”

  “Well,” Frank replied, “If Roentgenium produces the energy these output figures say it does, it could power the average American city for a year on one load of fuel.” Frank looked askance at the plans. “But, it’s only the size of a two-car garage.”

  “And how much waste would it generate in that year?”

  “If these figures are correct, and the nominal yield is that high, virtually none, sir. Literally, a handful of waste.”

  “Would you be prepared to build these things, Frank?”

  Frank frowned. He was decidedly uncomfortable with all of this. He suspected this was a test. But, why? And what was he being tested for? He figured the best way was to go along with it and see what happened. He shrugged. “I sure can, sir. It will take some serious money, though. Especially the gold – I couldn’t even guess what that would cost. Are you sure we
can’t use a cheaper material?”

  “I am sure. My contacts assure me there’s nothing else in the world that would work.”

  “Well, that’s a damn shame. From what I hear, the price of gold is going into low orbit at the moment.”

  Donald Vincent laughed heartily, and offered Frank another drink.

  10

  The council hall was smaller than Hiram had expected; no grandeur, no huge expanse of empty space. The room was of a good size, comfortably furnished, with the main discussion floor encompassed around three sides by a crescent of comfortable seats. Large windows on two sides gave spectacular views out over the lake, and the vaulted ceiling was softly lit by a glow whose source Hiram could not discern.

  Once again, he was taken aback by the cleanliness and purity of it all. The windows, like the viewport on Nuthros’ ship, were so clear as to be invisible. The whole hall was spotless, and the conversation around Hiram as he took his seat was quiet and subdued. The overall feel of the place was one of tranquillity and peace.

  Hiram was also more than a little discomfited by the council discussion that took place. It wasn’t the subject matter that was the problem, but the total lack of emotion shown by the council members as they talked about matters of literally Earth-shaking importance. No evidence of hidden agendas, no sign of any cliques, no arguments, nothing. Nuthros had done his best to prepare Hiram before they settled into the hologram chamber on board ship.

  “I know you will find our manner of discussion odd, Hiram. However, the way we conduct ourselves is the best way we have found to address matters in the shortest possible time and extract the best result. Perhaps you would understand it better if I explained the principle behind it. It is, in fact, one of the guidelines by which our whole society manages itself. The principle is this; emotional content in any form distorts and hinders proper deliberation.”

  Hiram nodded. That made perfect sense. He had never seen a discussion free of emotion, though.