But Oscar had calmed him down. Nothing was going to happen. The robot had already scanned the route that had been plotted through the ring using the ship’s radar. The risk of a collision was less than one-tenth of one thousand. Though the danger was one million times higher than it was in free space, for the life of him Nick couldn’t be afraid when the odds were still so low.
He’d have to leave communication with the Enceladus station to Oscar, since everything would have to proceed so quickly. This caused him more worry. Unsolicited, RB had sent all the codes that Oscar needed to identify himself. Apparently, Valentina had drawn the correct conclusions about the ship’s course. But she couldn’t possibly know that Oscar would be taking over the conversation. This would increase their chances of success, but Nick still wished he were the one in control.
“We’ll be closest in two minutes,” Oscar said.
Enceladus loomed larger from one moment to the next, no longer a glimmering ball of ice. It was showing them a true moon-like surface marked by craters and cracks. Nick thought of the legendary ILSE expedition. People had been fighting for their survival somewhere down there, though the exact circumstances had never been revealed. There had been rumors about the lifeform the ILSE crew had discovered there. Officially, these were said to be primitive single-celled organisms. He’d seen the photos, and the cells had reminded him of geometric constructions. But some sources had said intelligent life existed down there as well. It was probably just a rumor—how could anyone possibly hide an intelligent life form from the rest of humanity for so long?
“Thirty seconds left,” said Oscar.
“Good luck!”
“Thanks, Nick.”
The AI would be sending the prepared message soon. Nick clung to the arms of his chair as Enceladus filled up the entire screen. Only 200 meters above the surface—he hadn’t realized how close that was. Some of the mountain formations on Enceladus were taller than that. But Oscar would have thought it all through.
Warning signals sounded in the command module. Their course was exceeding the fixed-tolerance values built into the system. It was likely that none of the engineers had ever anticipated that the Eve would have approached a moon so quickly and so perilously. Without Oscar as the navigator, he’d hardly have been able to manage. Hopefully Valentina wouldn’t notice! But she wouldn’t be aware of the details, since at the moment no data was passing from their spaceship to Earth.
“Start transmission.”
Nick quickly pulled the screen closer. Oscar had promised to translate the essentials into a language comprehensible for humans. Of course he wasn’t speaking Russian with the AI. Over the helmet radio he sent optimized machine code that was based on the ancient but particularly flexible programming language called LISP.
(Greeting.)
(Pause. Surprise.)
(Identification.)
(setf concept Oscar.)
(setf concept Sto-woda.)
In addition to the translations, the computer listed the amount of data exchanged, which was impressive. If people communicated in this way, they would be able to relate their whole lives in three sentences. Human communication involved so very little information. For example, the phrase ‘I’m Nick’ would be, for someone who didn’t know him or his social environment, just his first name, or one non-trivial piece of information.
(Help needed.)
(Confirmation.)
(defun help (relay reception).)
A new warning signal sounded. It was a collision warning. Shit, is Oscar paying attention? Nick swiped frantically on the screen and had the source of the warning display. There was a geyser spewing a cloud of ice particles out through a significant gap in the endless ice. The radar had misinterpreted the cloud as a hard obstacle. The Eve would fly through without being harmed.
(Review. Approval.)
(Help.)
(Thank you.)
The Eve broke away from the ice moon again, and it was just now that the radio connection broke off. It had taken 32 seconds. They wouldn’t see Enceladus again. Oh well. He would have liked to find out about what might be waiting at the bottom of the ocean. Another time? No, he would never go this far out into space again.
“Were you successful, Oscar?”
“The installation was cooperative. I gave it the message to send to Earth, and it passed it on. By the way, the AI is called Sto-woda, which means ‘one hundred water’ in Russian.”
“Funny name.”
“Friedensreich Hundertwasser was the name of an Austrian architect who died long ago. Sto-woda loves his buildings.”
“Can we be sure about the message?”
“There’s no guarantee. But I think RB will confirm receipt by no later than tomorrow. Sto-woda was really helpful. I think she was looking forward to the visit.”
“She? You got that far?”
“She sees herself as female. And we exchanged enormous amounts of data. From that alone, Sto-woda should have grown by fifty percent.”
“Grown?”
“Just as you grow from experience, an AI grows from data. She will not only incorporate it, she will also use it to draw other conclusions. Data is valuable to her, and so far RB has not been very generous.”
“Do you think it’s intentional? A corporate strategy?”
“I suppose so. RB is experimenting a lot with AI, more than the public knows. They probably want to prevent their babies from surpassing them.”
“Is that a realistic concern?”
“Of course, unless other regulatory mechanisms are built in.”
“What would those be?”
“Contentment, laziness, lack of curiosity—along those lines. You humans know how it is.”
“You don’t have a very good opinion of people.”
“Actually, Nick, it’s a more favorable opinion than many people have of themselves.”
“How comforting.”
“I don’t know if that ought to be of any comfort to you. There are other AI’s too.”
“Like those in the Triton installation, you mean? Could Sto-woda tell you anything about them?”
“They don’t have a direct connection. But it’s an older version of Sto-woda, which still has a few glitches, as is often the case with beta versions of software.”
“The Triton AI isn’t the newer one?”
“No, the probe carrying her had further to go, so it had to start before work on the new AI was ready.”
“Sto-woda told you all that?”
“And much more. But unfortunately, there was nothing that could really help us. Except a few memories.”
“Memories?”
“They are shared memories. Images that Sto-woda and the Triton AI share. Sto-woda gave them to me. Maybe we’ll talk to her about them.”
“That was clever.”
“Sto-woda is an AI, Nick.”
1/1/2081, the Eve
“Darling! That was the perfect surprise for the start of the year. RB had informed me that you were planning a maneuver on Enceladus, but they hadn’t been sure what you were going to do. They were really astonished that you got it done in such a short time and with such precision. Valentina has the highest regard for your piloting skills. But there’s nobody else in the world who has launched into space as many times as you.
“It is just a shame that I still have to speak into the void. It’s not so easy. I have to admit that at first I underestimated how hard it would be. I’ve really made an effort over the past few weeks, but I can’t promise you that I’ll stick to sending you a message every day in the months to come. It won’t be long before I am really busy with our baby. RB said you can fix the damage on Triton. When that day comes, our child will have already had a birthday and should absolutely hear Daddy’s voice.
“As for your name suggestions—I hadn’t thought you would be so conservative. My grandmother’s name was Maria. I like the name. But I’m not so sure about Jim. It doesn’t go with my last name, I think, and th
e baby will have my last name. It should also sound good in Spanish. Jaime is a bit too far from Jim and doesn’t work in English. And with the name Jim, I always think of my good friend who’s still letting me stay in a room in his house. So I’ll think it over.
“I wish you a relaxing New Year! Rosie.”
So the child would have her last name. It really was only fair, since she was the one who’d be pushing the baby out into the world and caring for him or her, but it was still a little hard to swallow. If he were to pick the child up from preschool sometime, the teacher would maybe be suspicious because his last name was different, and he’d have to bring in a confirmation from his wife.
But that was a long time from now, and today it was entirely uncertain that he’d ever actually encounter such a situation.
“Oscar, how high do you estimate our likelihood of success?”
“Define success.”
“For me, success means that we land on Earth again in the near future without any major injuries.”
“That’s difficult, because there are too many unknowns to take into consideration.”
“Then make some reasonable hypotheses about these unknowns.”
“Your personal probability of success is approximately forty percent. But the range of error is sixty percent.”
He’d make it or he wouldn’t. Unfortunately, this was not a new insight. Though forty percent as the most likely value was shockingly low.
“What do you mean by ‘yours,’ Oscar?”
“As a biological being, you’re not as tough as I am. For example, you could die during the voyage without any external influence, and you’ll be more vulnerable to any accidents.”
“So your chances of reaching Earth are higher?”
“Significantly higher. By my estimates, it’s sixty percent, with an error interval of forty percentage points.”
“You estimate that your potential for success is fifty percent higher than mine?”
“That’s one way of putting it. Of course, I’ll do everything in my power to align your chances of success with mine.”
“That’s nice of you. And how would you decide if you could only save one of us?”
“That would depend on the situation. If I could save you in the short term, but it was clear that you wouldn’t survive the journey ahead—”
“No,” he interrupted Oscar. “I mean, if all odds were otherwise identical. Who would you choose, yourself or me?”
“I don’t know, Nick. I’ve never been in that position. Do you know what you would do?”
“I... of course I would...”
He faltered. If there were a truck about to hit Rosie and the child, he would definitely throw himself in the way. But Oscar? He seemed like a friend to him, the only one he had right now. But Oscar wasn’t human. Would he sacrifice himself for a robot? Probably not. A machine should sacrifice itself for a human, not the other way around. Or...? But that was an answer he shouldn’t give Oscar, because it would hurt him. It was crazy. He was weeding out answers because they would be painful for the AI, treating it as if it were human. Didn’t this mean he should grant Oscar the same rights and the same value, then?
“I don’t know, Oscar. Hopefully we’ll never get into such a situation. It’s a terrible choice.”
1/20/2081, the Eve
“Darling! Our child was on time. I’m attaching a photo for you that the midwife took of us—happy mother and baby—following only four hours of labor. We may look a little exhausted, because we are. It’s a girl, and her name is Maria. She weighs a good six pounds and is in good health, as is her mother. I was thinking about getting the birth on video because I know you wanted to be there, but as soon as the camera was pointed at me, I felt exposed.
“Jim was a good stand-in for you. The midwife gave something of a strange look at first because he’s about 30 years older than I am and could very well be my father. As my doctoral supervisor, he really is something like that. But he held his own and earned the midwife’s respect. At the end, she even affectionately called him Jaime, which was a great honor. I hope you understand my decision. Maria is sleeping right now, but she would certainly greet you if she could. Until tomorrow! I’m going to sleep now too, for at least 24 hours.
“Rosie.”
Nick couldn’t help it. He burst into tears. The robot disk came rolling towards him and placed his metallic hand on his shoulder. Oscar seemed to know better and better how to interact with people. He’d probably been studying Nick the same way Nick had been studying Oscar. What had the robot said about data? He probably provided Oscar with veritable mountains of data all day long. The question was how much of it Oscar could generalize and what was Nick-specific.
He wiped the tears from his face and looked at the photo. Maria was pretty rumpled-looking. Weren’t parents always supposed to find their own children beautiful? That wasn’t how he felt at the moment, but his heart belonged to her, now and forever. It didn’t matter if she was a beautiful baby or not. She was his daughter. That was what counted. He enlarged the photo with his fingers. Was there any resemblance to him or to Rosie? He couldn’t find anything. Maria was very much her own person. He was proud of her. Now he would have to get back, no matter what Oscar’s calculations said about their chances. 100 percent. Anything else was out of the question.
5/20/2081, the Eve
“Correction maneuver in three... two... one... now!”
Nick felt a slight pressure from the side, and the stars on the screen started to shift as the correction nozzles rotated the ship once on its axis. The maneuver was critical. If it didn’t work, they would never reach Triton and would leave the solar system at increasing speed instead. But there was no reason to doubt that it would work. They’d already tested the control nozzles during the course correction near Saturn. In retrospect, that fact had been very reassuring. They also had far more fuel than they needed, which was vital because they would need to complete the same maneuver on the return flight.
So he had his 100 percent certainty. And yet there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him feel queasy. A small window showed the status of the correction nozzles. Everything was green. He could take it easy. Only two or three minutes and then it would be done. From now on, he’d always be looking towards the direction of Earth when using the porthole in the command capsule, although he wouldn’t be able to see it—the planet had vanished from sight long ago. The solar system had turned around like the hands of a clock. For this reason, they wouldn’t be able to plot precisely the same course on the way back. But it was far too early to think about that. They’d only made it halfway to Triton so far.
A planet wandered into the screen. It had to be Jupiter, which was no longer hiding behind the sun. The correction nozzles rotated the ship in the plane of the ecliptic that planets followed as they moved around the sun. Now if there was a problem and they weren’t able to complete the turnaround, at least they wouldn’t fly out of the ecliptic. This meant they would be able to make up for the error with a momentum maneuver using a planet, even if it would cost them the year.
Nick didn’t anticipate this happening. But the rotation caused about half of all the planets to come into view until the ship was pointing its nose back towards the sun. There was something of a sightseeing tour about it. If at some point there were such trips for private individuals, the pilots would certainly perform such turning maneuvers, over and over.
There it was. The sun. It had grown so small! The Eve would reach the Uranus orbit soon. The sun was no ordinary star, of course, but the light that shone from it already made it resemble one. Whatever was flying around out here could no longer be sustained by its light. If there were life in these latitudes, it would have to search for another source of energy. Uranus and Neptune, the two outer planets, had plenty of water, but it was frozen solid. This was the reason why they were called ice giants and could be allies of the Snow Queen. Nick felt like they were in her realm, since it was as host
ile to life here as it was in the home of the fairy tale character.
“Maneuver complete,” said Oscar. “All systems nominal.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. It was only to be expected.”
“Nevertheless, I was worried.”
“That is interesting, Nick. I’m only worried when the risk of failure is over five percent. That’s the current limit, but I can correct it, if it would make more sense.”
“Very convenient, Oscar. I’d like to be able to do that, too.”
“Maybe humans could learn something from us.”
“That’s a possibility. I’m not sure if it would be desirable, though.”
“Don’t your worries sometimes get in your way?”
“Undoubtedly, yes.”
“But you don’t want to get rid of them?”
“Seems so. If you think that’s strange, Oscar, I can reassure you that I don’t understand it either.”
7/10/2081, the Eve
“Cheers,” said Oscar.
Nick lifted the glass in the robot’s direction. He’d tried to make beer, but the result was underwhelming. “Always these parties without guests,” he said.
They had just passed the orbit of Uranus, which had remained out of view, just like Jupiter had. The ice planet would have been an exciting object of study. It and Neptune had certain features in common.
“You’ll have to make do with me,” Oscar said.
“I’m very grateful to Valentina for thinking of you.”
The Triton Disaster: Hard Science Fiction Page 13