by Greg Krojac
Coppélia danced a few more steps and then stood still again.
She blinked. She blinked again. And then blinked five more times in quick succession.
A pause.
Then she repeated the seven blinks, followed by shrugging her shoulders seven times to the same rhythm, twice. Young Carolina loved the performance. She’d started school the previous year and had ballet classes twice a week.
Some of the movements required a partner, but somehow Coppélia was able to execute them on her own, including those that required her to fall backwards and be caught by an invisible Dr Coppelius, the lonely old alchemist. She seemed to defy the laws of gravity, almost falling backwards to the ground, yet somehow maintaining her balance, despite leaning at an extremely acute angle. Karen had never seen anything like it. The performance concluded, Coppélia looked directly at Karen.
“I hope you enjoyed my little gift, Karen. I will never forget you, you’re my best friend. I hope I’m lucky enough to see you again one day.”
Karen realised the extent to which she still missed her friend. They’d shared so many experiences together. Karen was a confusion of emotions; on the one hand, she was happy in the knowledge that she was still very important to Coppélia’s existence – even after so long apart – and on the other hand sad in the knowledge that her friend was so far away, and all alone. She hoped that one day they’d meet again, but Karen wondered if Coppélia would recognise her. The android didn’t age, but the years were gradually leaving their mark on Karen.
16
Coppélia looked out of the large porthole, hoping that her special message to Karen had arrived on the correct day. She would have loved to see her friend again – and to meet the children – but she knew that that wouldn’t happen for a long time. And when she did see Karen again, the ex-policewoman would be at least seventy-three years old. Her children wouldn’t be children but in their late thirties or early forties. And Coppélia would still look as she did when she left Earth.
But the android couldn’t spend all her time looking out of the window, imagining that she was somewhere else; she had work to do. She was the conduit through which humanity would experience setting foot upon an interstellar planet for the very first time. She had a responsibility to those back home. She transmitted the first words spoken from an exoplanet.
Hello, Mission Control. Hello, Earth. Hello, home. It’s 7,672 days since the interstellar spaceship the Carl Sagan left Earth’s orbit and started its 4.24 light year journey to Proxima b, the nearest planet outside our own solar system. I am in the landing shuttle, the deGrasse Tyson, having landed safely and am about to take my first steps onto the surface of the planet as the proud but humble representative of my home planet.
She wasn’t afraid of leaving the capsule; she had no requirement for oxygen – she could exist in a vacuum if necessary. Her new skin was constructed of new composites that were even more resistant to both temperature and radiation than her original skin. She could go where no human could go. No doubt, sometime in the future, humans would be able to visit such worlds themselves, but that depended on suitable protective equipment and clothing being more readily available. The basic technology had been around for a while, having been developed for use in the construction of nuclear reactors, but the real challenge had been to make the material – a new nano-coated silicon carbide fibre reinforced composite able to withstand thermal shock (from both ends of the temperature scale) and intense radiation levels – sufficiently pliable that it could be used for applications that needed flexibility of movement. This had been achieved, but the cost of production was prohibitive and, until costs reduced significantly, humans would have to delay their own personal deep space exploration. Coupled with the long journey times (it had taken over twenty years for Coppélia to reach the nearest system to Earth – Proxima Centauri), further human interstellar exploration was impractical as yet. Nobody knew yet the effects of prolonged and highly accelerated space travel on the human body and it was entirely possible that a human crew would die before arrival at their destination; the only solution was to send slower generational spaceships (where the original occupants would grow old and die, leaving their descendants to continue travelling) or to wait for technology to master suspended animation.
Coppélia recalibrated her body sensors to match those of a human. She could have left them set so that she had augmented vision and hearing, and also not feel the heat or cold, but that would have defeated the purpose of her even being there. She was mankind’s proxy and needed to feel as a human would in the same situation. She set her internal gravity control to match the gravity found on Earth so that she would feel heavier if the gravitational pull were stronger than on Earth or lighter if it were less.
The time had arrived to take the first step onto the surface of an extrasolar planet. Coppélia took the few steps to the door of the space-pod and paused for a few seconds. If she’d been human, she would no doubt have taken a deep breath, but she was simply making some last minute system checks. The capsule’s cradle crouched down until the drop to the surface became a mere thirty centimetre step down and the door slid open. She looked out at the view that met her eyes.
The light is so dim, but the sun – Proxima Centauri – is incredibly large in the sky. I’d estimate that it appears approximately ten times larger than Earth’s sun appears to those on Earth. I can also clearly see the system’s other two suns. Alpha Centauri A and Alpha Centauri B. I shall now increase luminosity compensation to a factor equal to that of Earth daylight so that I can see the terrain properly.
Suddenly, everything in her field of vision appeared to be bathed in a pool of light.
This place is stunning. I can see no signs of life whatsoever, but that doesn’t take away from the overall impression. The jagged rocks around me are awash with multi-coloured strata; primarily shades of Hex code #FF91A4. The rocks have a strange reflective quality about them. It’s as if they’re made of thick sheets of opaque glass, each one a different shade of salmon pink. It’s as if a stained glass window has been dismantled and the shards of thick glass have been laid one on top of the other in a disorganised yet paradoxically organised heap.
She took the step forward and was a little surprised that the ground beneath her feet wasn’t as solid as she had been expecting. It looked solid enough, but had the texture of fine sand, so the first words spoken on the surface of the planet weren’t memorable like Neil Armstrong’s when he first set foot on the moon, but more of an observation.
I thought the ground would be harder than that.
She looked around her at a salmon pink world of evening shadows.
I’m now on the planet’s surface. The ground consistency is similar to that which one might experience on a beach on Earth, a fine sand-like material on the surface, 2.23 centimetres in depth, covering a harder more robust surface.
She took a few tentative steps.
It’s like walking on a tropical beach, except there are no palm trees and no sea. I suppose I could describe it better as a rocky desert in the twilight.
She felt a little heavier than normal but didn’t re-adjust her gravity tolerance to compensate, so she could feel the sensation that a human would have felt, However, nothing is fool proof, and she wouldn’t feel the tiredness that a human might feel as her scores of nano-motors felt no strain whatsoever in adjusting to the slightly enhanced gravity. She bent down and picked up a handful of the sand and examined it closely.
The sand is fine but has a slightly rough feel to it. It sparkles in Earth daylight, but I imagine the effect will be lost in the natural light of the red dwarf.
Coppélia returned her luminosity compensation settings to the natural light that bathed Proxima b.
Yes. The sand looks very ordinary now, nondescript really. If anyone visits this planet in the future I recommend using augmented lighting. Sadly, its beauty is lost under natural conditions.
She returned her luminosity compensation sett
ings to Earth light on the basis of safety; she couldn’t complete her mission if she were to fall down a ravine, unable to get out. And, more importantly, she wouldn’t be able to leave the planet and return to Earth.
She turned left away from the landing shuttle and spent a further couple of hours exploring her surroundings. She appeared to have landed on what may have once been a river bed that had gouged its way through the terrain millions of years ago. Perhaps this planet had hosted life once but the latest opinion that she had access to had deemed it improbable. However, who knows what wonders the Universe could come up with? She would continue looking for signs of life – past or present – on another day.
That day would be two hundred and ninety-four Earth days later. The weakness of the solar energy that the planet received from its sun meant that Coppélia’s excursions had to be rationed so she had time to recharge her power cells. She had no need for food, water, nor oxygen but, without solar energy, she would cease to function and be just an ornament on a different planet. The process of transferring absorbed energy to her batteries took the same time as it did on Earth but, because the energy received from the dwarf star was so little – about 0.17% of the Sun’s energy – it took two hundred and ninety-four Earth days of continual day and night absorption to gain the equivalent of one Earth day’s energy. In that time, all that Coppélia could do was to stand outside, motionless. Over twenty-six Proxima b years would pass by before she could continue her exploration – the equivalent to almost ten Earth months – and Coppélia would see none of them.
Two hundred and ninety-four days after stepping onto the planet’s surface for the first time, Coppélia ventured forth for only the second time, this time towards the rock formation that bordered the valley. She had expected the surface of the rocks to be slippery but, on closer inspection, they had a slight texture which made climbing to the summit of one of the craggy outcrops much easier. From this vantage point, she could see beyond the other side of the valley. For as far as the eye could see, the land consisted of a vast pink desert broken up randomly by outcrops of rocky dulled glass.
She looked behind her and the view was the same. She wondered if and how the terrain would change if one were to travel deep into the light side or the dark side of the planet, how the temperature extremes might affect the geological make-up of the planet. The bright side of the planet would receive incessant heat, but she used the words ‘bright’ and ‘heat’ advisedly since no part of the planet could truly be described as particularly ‘bright’ or hot. Temperatures on the day side of the planet could reach a comfortable sixteen degrees Celsius but that area would be battered by giant solar flares, certainly rendering life as we know it impossible. The radiation contained in those flares would effectively sterilise the planet, each containing about 4,000 times the radiation that Earth receives from one of the Sun’s solar flares.
The dark side would fare little better, being starved of the planet’s light and heat and harbouring temperatures of around minus one hundred and twenty degrees Celsius. The area in which the deGrasse Tyson had landed fluctuated between minus forty degrees and minus fifty-five; not comfortable for humans by any means, but habitable. It was the lack of atmosphere, having been stripped away by radiation from the planet’s sun that made it unsuitable for colonisation. Terraforming could potentially be a possibility, but such technology was still in its infancy and mostly theoretical.
She checked her internal chronometer and started her journey back to the deGrasse Tyson, taking a short detour to check out what lay on the right-hand side of the ship.
17
Karen had been looking forward to this day so much. She was sitting with Raef in his office at Mission Control drinking Coffee, feeling that it should really be a glass of chilled Moet et Chandon in her hand, rather than the mug of steaming hot coffee that it was. Her friend Coppélia had been away from Earth for 8, 848 days – 24 years 2 months and 21 days – and on another planet for 1,175 of those days. But today was different. Today, Coppélia would be lifting off from the surface of Proxima b and starting the first phase of her journey back to Earth. Coppélia was coming home.
Karen looked at her husband, proud of what he and his team had achieved. She’d felt the separation from Coppélia more strongly than she had expected, but that sense of loss was beginning to recede now. Yes, it would still be another twenty-one years or so until she saw her friend again, but Karen was still a young woman – only fifty-two years of age – and that was nothing in a world where life expectancy had risen to a hundred years. She would still have plenty of time to spend with Coppélia when the mission was completed. Raef had promised his wife that he would retire Coppélia from duty once she had been debriefed and she would be free to spend time with Karen, visiting the theatre or the ballet or doing whatever the pair of them wanted to do. The android would be obsolete by the time she returned home anyway – it would serve no purpose to return to duties with the RAEF Organisation.
Ironically, Mission Control hadn’t yet received confirmation that Coppélia had actually landed on the planet. Messages from Proxima b took 1,549 days (4.24 years) to arrive at Earth, and today was day 1,174 of the android’s stay on the planet. Raef decided to temper his wife’s enthusiasm by adding a dash of realism.
“You do realise that we don’t even know if Coppélia landed on Proxima b, Karen? Perhaps she never arrived.”
Karen wasn’t to be swayed from her positive mood.
“I told you three years ago that I wasn’t going to be pessimistic. As far as I’m concerned, Coppélia landed safely, did what she was supposed to do, and is – as we speak – preparing to lift off from the planet, if she hasn’t already done so.”
“But there are so many things that could have gone wrong – with the mother-ship, with the landing shuttle, even with her. We don’t know anything for sure at the moment.”
Karen couldn’t understand Raef’s negativity.
“And everything could have gone right too. You’re correct – anything could have happened – but I choose to be positive. I honestly don’t know where your pessimism is coming from, Raef. Surely you wouldn’t even have started Project Coppélia if you didn’t think it could – it would – be a success.”
Raef acknowledged that his wife was speaking the truth. He believed wholeheartedly in the project and that it would be a success. But his parameters for success were different to Karen’s.
18
Coppélia’s fifth and final excursion on the planet was now completed, and she could set off on the long journey back to Earth. She entered the landing shuttle and took a final look at the planet that had been her home for the last 1,174 Earth days. She was looking forward to arriving back on Earth – being able to see her friend again made the twenty-one year long trip worthwhile. She was looking forward to meeting Karen’s children for the first time too. The hatch closed, she strapped herself in and pressed the button to initiate the engine thrusters and take her off the planet.
Nothing happened. She tried again.
Still nothing. She waited a minute or so before trying to ignite the thrusters again.
What’s wrong? Why won’t the engines fire up?
She checked the instruments, paying particular attention to the fuel levels. Everything looked all right. She tried again.
This doesn’t make sense.
She instigated a deep diagnostic analysis of the fuel system.
She stared at the results.
The fuel tanks are empty. That can’t be right. Is there a leak?
She went over the fuel system with a fine-tooth comb but couldn’t find any evidence whatsoever of a leak. There was only one possible conclusion – sabotage. There had never been sufficient fuel to get her back to the Carl Sagan; the system had be
en rigged to show incorrectly positive levels.
She was just a robot. She was expendable.
19
Karen wasn’t supposed to be at Mission Control that morning. Raef was busy in meetings concerning the colonisation of Mars and, to be completely honest, nowadays he seemed far more interested in colonial matters than seeing out Project Coppélia. Karen thought it strange, considering the effort that he had put into gaining investors for the project and the giant leaps forward in AI and space technology that were a direct result of his visionary thinking. She wondered why he didn’t appear to want to be present when the message of Coppélia’s successful launch and imminent return from Proxima b came through. She realised that ‘imminent’ was perhaps the wrong word, bearing in mind that the journey home would take over twenty-one years, but she knew what she meant.
She didn’t see why the rest of the team at Mission Control shouldn’t celebrate their success though, and that’s why she had taken a case of champagne to the control centre that morning. Raef had again insisted that his wife was being overly positive and that she should add a dash of realism to her expectations – the planet was an inhospitable environment and there were any number of unfortunate events that could have damaged or destroyed Coppélia. The planet’s sun, Proxima Centauri, was in the habit of hurling solar flares at the planet and, although the androids designers had taken all measures possible to protect her from the dangers of being exposed to these cosmic dangers, nobody really knew if she could survive for any length of time in such a hostile environment.