by Frank Carey
There was silence as what had occurred sunk in.
Six days later, the survivors disembarked from the landing ship and stepped foot on a beautiful grassy plateau. Below was a settlement, which was to be their first contact.
“Remember, you’re about 2000 years ahead of these people. Use tech sparingly, and try not to raise a commotion. This is your home now. We’ve deep-taught you the basics of the language, but you will have to learn the nuances.
It was decided that Julie and Danny would make first contact, so they donned native apparel and headed down the mountain. Part way down, they came upon a native being attacked by a large brown carnivore. Reflexively, Danny pulled out his electrostunner, set it to low, and shot the beast, scaring it off with the non-lethal static discharge. They ran over to see if the native was unharmed. Danny asked him what the name of the mountain was, just to get a feel for the language.
“Lord Zeus! Mount Olympus, of course.”
Bookworm
Stanley Lipnicki, Head Librarian and only employee of the Powtash Public Library, was anxious to unpack the crate just delivered to the Library’s Receiving Dock. The Library was lucky to be named a beneficiary in the Last Will and Testament of world explorer Wesley Talbot Smyth-Davies, the town’s local hero and recluse. The first half of the delivery arrived a week ago. It consisted of a set of hermetically sealed bookcases, which were set up in the West Corridor. The cases allow patrons to examine books without removing them from the case itself.
Stanley went to the desk in the corner and reread the instructions aloud, just to make sure he got them right.
“Remove the individually wrapped book and insert into the slot on the first case marked ‘Airlock’. Press the button marked ‘Intake'. When the cycle is complete the green 'Finished’ light will illuminate. Repeat for all books in collection. WARNING: Do not expose any book in this collection to relative humidity higher than 3%. Doing so may irreparably damage the book. In the event of emergency, place book in slot and press the red ‘Emergency’ button.
Here in Powtash the relative humidity never got lower than 40%. He looked at the weather station on the wall. It read 90% RH, which was normal for the rainy season. “What would constitute a book emergency?” he wondered.
Stanley carefully removed books one-by-one, checking each against the manifest. He carefully loaded each onto a library cart. He would take the filled cart to the west corridor and load the books, one-by-one, into the airlock slot and press the intake button. He would go back to receiving and refill the cart as needed.
Stanley was down to his last cartload of books when he noticed a stray nail poking out of the wood had damaged the remaining book’s packing bag. Stanley carefully removed the book and examined it with a large hand magnifier. Sure enough, there was a small pinhole in the plastic, but no noticeable damage to the book. Stanley put the book on the desk and checked the crate in case he missed something.
Satisfied, Stanley took the last cartload of books to the West Wing, picking up the instructions, but leaving behind the book with the damaged wrapper.
The delivery bay was quiet now that the crate had been unloaded. The book with the damaged cover lay on the desk, waiting patiently for Stanley’s return. As the book lay on the desk, a single drop of water from a ceiling leak landed on the damaged section of wrapper. The water passed through the damaged section and landed on the book’s cover, immediately soaking into the dry cover material.
After a moment, the cover around the wet spot started to undulate and writhe as if the book was alive. While this was going on, more drips of water landed on the damaged spot. This made the writhing worse. Suddenly, the wrapper burst open, the book inside transforming into some hideous creature whose growth accelerated as the moist air hit it.
Having loaded the last book from the cart into the bookshelf, Stanley realized that he had left the book with the damaged cover on the delivery room desk, so he headed back to the receiving room with the cart and book of instructions.
As he got close to receiving, Stanley heard noises as if someone was trashing the place. Thinking that there might be a vandal, Stanley abandoned the cart and grabbed a fire axe from a wall cubby.
When Stanley got to the receiving room door, he heard the sound of books hitting the floor, so with all of the bravado he could muster, he burst into the room with his axe held high.
“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I have an axe. I demand you leave now!” Stanley yelled as he burst into the room, almost hitting the biggest worm he had ever seen. It was at least twenty-feet long and a third of that in girth. As he slid to a stop, the giant worm reared up and glared at him, its multiple rows of teeth making short work of a crate of old books destined for the annual book sale.
Stanley realized that he needed help, so he ran out the door to call for help with the worm right behind him.
In a panic, Stanley ran into the Library’s break room, closing and locking the door behind him. He could hear the worm wreaking havoc in the stacks. Stanley fumbled for his cell phone, but realized he had left it in receiving, and the only other phone was at the front desk. As Stanley thought about what to do next, he heard the worm crash through the door. He realized that it was hunting him.
Stanley looked up and saw the worm blocking the door, trapping him in the room. Panicking now, Stanley did what any normal, rational human being would do; he started throwing things at the worm. Chairs, tables, toasters, coffee cups, sugar packets, and creamer pelted the behemoth. Stanley was running out of things to throw when he hit the worm with an open container of table salt. The worm reared back and roared in pain with steam pouring from the section of hide the salt contacted. Stanley grabbed saltshakers from the tables, a saltcellar from the counter, and boxes of salt from under the sink, and poured salt on the worm. Steam from the worm filled the room, and soon Stanley couldn’t see anything. Stanley ran over and opened all of the windows. Soon he could see again.
In the center of the room was a salt-covered book, surrounded by remains of other books, its cover writhing as if alive. As he watched, the writhing stopped. Stanley grabbed the book and ran to the west corridor where he slammed the book into the slot in the bookshelf and hit the ‘Emergency’ button.
The apparatus hummed, beeped, and shook. Finally, the green light came on, and the book appeared in its proper place on one of the shelves, clean and looking undamaged.
Stanley surveyed the damage, but thanked his lucky stars that he was still alive. He realized why the books were sealed inside the bookshelves and what would happen if they were exposed to moisture. As he turned to fetch his broom and trashcan, Stanley glanced at the title of the little book that caused all of the trouble. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine. It was “The Conqueror Worm” by Edgar Allen Poe.
AI
“Catherine, welcome to the West Dire Mall. Around you are at least ten thousand souls braving the holiday crowds in search of holiday gifts. Here, you will see the best and worst in humanity.”
As John Smith spoke, he waved his hand at the vast holiday crowd that churned before them. His charge, Catherine Gamma Six, looked out at the throng with a look of perfect neutrality.
“Fascinating,” she said in the calmest of voices.
Catherine was the latest artificial intelligence to incept at the Cybernetics Institute. Outwardly, Catherine looked like any normal 22-year-old human female. Inside, though, Catherine was a state-of-the-art cybernetic/nanomech construct supporting an artificial intelligence. John was her mentor, her muse, her protector, and her friend.
“John, query: why?”
“The human race consists of a single species, homo sapiens. Until the AIs came, we only interacted with other homo sapiens on a sentient level. Over the centuries, we have developed religions, communities, and rituals to aid with this interaction. This particular ritual is thought to be an overt way for people to let others know that we are concerned about their welfare.”
“What
about crime, war, bigotry, and intolerance. Those behaviors show a lack of concern about the welfare of other humans.”
“You are correct. Humans are enigmatic.”
One of John’s tasks was to get Catherine to think outside her normal parameter space. Just like a human child, an AI is equipped with instincts, just instincts at a much higher level than humans. Like a human child, AIs must become more than the sum of their instincts.
“Humans cannot communicate via transcomm?”
“No, we are not equipped with transcomm units. Humans work more indirectly.”
The two continued their walk through the mall. As they walked, they passed two young men who were in conversation. One of the young men turned and ran up to Catherine.
“Excuse me, miss, my name is Justin. My friend, Nathan, and I are going to a party tonight, and I was hoping you would join us.”
“No, I do not think so, but thank you for asking,” Catherine said as her social protocols training kicked in.
“If you change your mind, here are directions and my phone number. Please call me if you need a ride,” Justin said politely, though visibly disappointed. He turned and caught up with his friend who had wandered off.
“Fascinating,” Catherine said.
Their walk was interrupted by the sound of automatic gunfire. John grabbed Catherine and pulled her into a shop filled with winter clothing. Once inside, he guided her to a spot behind the counter where he could see out the front door without being seen himself. Once safe, he activated his and Catherine’s emergency locators, all this in a span of a few seconds.
“Catherine, are you hurt?”
“I am unharmed.”
“Can you give me an analysis of the gunshot sounds we heard?”
“Yes. There are three 9 mm automatics, possibly Stren M22s, and one .45 Cal automatic, possibly a Colt 1911. Direction indicates that all four are located in the casino on the right, six doors down from our present position. I have tapped into mall and police radio frequencies. Three of the shooters are dead, but the fourth has taken a hostage and is proceeding in this direction. They will pass this position in 1.3 minutes at current speed and heading.”
“Wow! How do you do that?” a voice said from the other end of the counter. It was Justin and his friend.
“Options package,” Catherine said. John honestly could not tell if she was joking or if she was being serious.
John gathered everyone and told them his plan, knowing that Catherine was going to protest.
“I have to take out the shooter and save the hostage,” John said as he pulled out his sidearm and checked its magazine. “I am a member of Earth Security, and it is my duty to protect citizens. Catherine, there is an exterior door at the back of this establishment. Use it to take yourself, Justin, and his friend to safety while I take care of the hostage situation.”
“Catherine, I swore I would keep you safe, and this is the only way I can do that. Please, no arguments, just head to the door as soon as I exit the store.”
Catherine looked at John with a look he had never seen from her: fear. He leaned over and gave her a hug.
“I’ll be fine, and I will see you when this is over,” he whispered in her ear. In a moment, he was at the front door. When the perp was in position outside the store, John bolted out the door.
“Stop! Earth Security. Place your weapon on the ground and release your hostage!” John said.
Without hesitation, the perp threw the hostage at John while drawing down on him with a Colt .45. John pushed the hostage away just as the perp fired a round directly into his chest, throwing him to the ground.
Though he was wearing a bulletproof vest, the round had broken several ribs and had knocked the wind out of John. As he laid there gasping, the perp casually walked up to John and aimed his gun at John’s head.
“Say night-night, cop,” the perp said calmly as he squeezed the trigger. John knew he was dead.
A crash of glass and an inhuman scream interrupted the scene. As John watched, something picked the perp up off the ground and threw him into the elevator column 100-feet down the mall. The perp hit the column 30-feet up and slid to the ground where he lay in a crumpled heap.
John looked up and saw Catherine bending over him and checking his vital signs, tears streaming down her face. Then she started to smile when she saw he was ok.
“Wow! How did you do that?” Justin said as he emerged from the store.
“Options package,” John said as he hugged Catherine.
The Artifact
The science community was falling over itself to get a piece of the Wiggin Trove. Hundreds of pieces of alien technology were found in a bunker buried under the Wiggin’s north pasture. One of the artifacts turned out to be a communications device which led to contact with the M’Totti, a race from a nearby star. The M’Totti stopped by a few hundred years ago and dropped-off a supply shack, which they planned to use on their next visit. An M’Totti ship was on its way back to Earth for a meet-and-greet with a group of Earth representatives. They were scheduled to arrive in a few hours. The scientists had until then to figure out as much as they could about the artifacts from the shack.
The front office assigned Dr. Joshua Enbridge, Ph.D. in Engineering and Linguistics, Artifact 357, which looked like an oddly shaped dumbbell. The artifact, about three feet wide and a foot tall, consisted of two chrome spheres separated by a rectangular box. The two spheres were featureless, while the box was festooned with writing, switches, and lights. A small opening was located in the center of the box’s base.
Joshua had been studying the artifact for two days and was no closer to figuring it out than when he started. He compared the writing to every known human language, but came up blank. He used crypto-cracking computer programs, but they could make nothing of it. He called the team that had gotten the radio to work in the hope that they could share some insights, but they said that the radio had activated itself when they accidently touched it, so he touched his artifact, but nothing happened. Out of frustration, he pressed every button and threw every switch. Nothing happened. The clock was ticking and he was getting nowhere.
“Cynthia, I need a break. I’m going to step out for a few minutes and get a coffee. Want anything while I’m out?”
Cynthia, a co-worker and his best friend, also shared his addiction to coffee. “Thanks, Joshie, I would love a large dark roast, black as midnight, and hot as hell.”
Joshua left the lab and headed to the shop. As he stood in line to order, a report came on the TV about an explosion in Paris.
“Reports are still coming in from Paris, but what we know for certain is that a team working on a large M’Totti artifact was vaporized, along with most of the building they occupied. The League of Scientists has started an in-depth investigation in the wake of this tragedy,” the reporter said as pictures of the destroyed facility flashed on the screen.
We were going way too fast with the artifacts, Joshua thought to himself. In my humble opinion, we should wait for the M’Totti to arrive. The League was going to do what the League was going to do, damn the torpedoes and all that.
Joshua got two large coffees, a pound of his favorite coffee beans and a couple liters of spring water, which he took with him back to the lab.
After giving Cynthia her coffee, Joshua unloaded his shopping bag on the lab bench next to the artifact. As he got back to work, Dr. Mortenson, the head of the League of Scientists, entered the lab followed by the M'Totti Ambassador. From what Joshua could hear, they were in the midst of a heated argument.
“Professor, I am truly sorry about the deaths of your researchers and the destruction of your lab, but the M’Totti cannot be held responsible for this tragedy. If your organization had asked, we would have told you that activating a quantum rock borer in the center of a city was not recommended.”
The ambassador stopped when he saw Artifact 357, but instead of starting into a tirade, he walked over and picked up Joshua’s bag of co
ffee.
“May I?” he asked as he gently shook the bag.
“Of course,” Joshua replied.
The Ambassador opened the bag and took a deep breath through his nose. He went up to the artifact, reached over and pressed something on the back of the box between the two spheres. Lights flashed as the device started to hum. The Ambassador pressed a button on the front of the box and the top half of each sphere flipped open. The Ambassador poured coffee beans into the left sphere and bottled spring water into the right one before pressing the tops closed.
“Do you have a cup I could borrow?” the ambassador said as he watched the indicators on the box.
Joshua grabbed a clean coffee cup from his desk and gave it to the ambassador.
“Thanks,” the ambassador said as he took the cup and placed it at the opening in the base of the box.
After a moment, the ambassador pressed a button on the face of the box. Steaming brown liquid poured from the opening into the waiting coffee cup as the lab filled with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Got any cream?” he asked as he looked around the bench.
Wallpaper War
The old house on the outskirts of town sat empty for over a century before Harvey Denton moved in. Harvey was a successful author who wanted a house with atmosphere. One in which he could write in solitude, and the old place fit the bill perfectly.
Before moving in, Harvey needed to do some cleanup and prep. He hired a crew to cart away the previous owner’s stuff to charity. He painted and had the floors redone. The only room he didn't change was the parlor.
The parlor had massive dark-stained moldings and built-ins. You could sense the history that was soaked into the wallpaper-covered walls.