Proxima Dreaming

by Brandon Q Morris

  “His name is Gronolf,” Eve says.

  “Hi, Eve darling, I am glad to hear your voice.”

  “I am not at all glad to hear yours.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you that you shot me.”

  Lies, lies, lies. That’s all he ever did was lie to them. Now Eve is annoyed at herself for ever pitying him.

  “Leave Eve alone! And give us the codes,” the real Marchenko says in a menacing voice.

  “Or what?”

  “Or I will pull your plug.”

  “Then you won’t reach Messenger.”

  “Or even better: I could leave you with a tiny bit of energy. And then you would be stuck in your dark hole for all eternity.”

  “You’ve convinced me,” Marchenko 2 says, suddenly affable, “Wait, I will transmit the codes to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You don’t want to check them?”

  “Don’t worry, I will. But not now.” Marchenko calmly removes the two cables that connected the electronic scrap with his body and the wall.

  Eve jerks back. “Did you—”

  “Kill him? No, he is just like before. His internal clock is paused. Time stands still. He is not suffering.”

  “But we promised him light.” Eve’s hands tremble.

  “Did he ever keep his promises?”

  “Still, we are not like that.”

  “We don’t have any time for additional problems. Marchenko 2 is devious, as we all certainly know by now. If we leave him in an active state, no matter how damaged, he will find a way to hurt us. I am sure there are some nano-fabricators crawling around that are programmed to serve him. Even a single one would be enough to gradually rebuild a body. And do we dare let him interfere, just as we are about to solve our main problem? No, Eve, I am sorry, but I won’t do it.”

  She turns around because tears well up in her eyes, and she doesn’t want Marchenko to notice. She has never seen him act so cold. Why isn’t Adam saying anything?

  May 10, 19, Adam

  Adam was surprised that their Marchenko turned off the power to his alter ego without any discussion. He suspects something: Perhaps Marchenko is so merciless because he sees a lot of himself in Marchenko 2. Adam does not know how much the Creator has manipulated the minds of those two. Yet he cannot imagine that the path the evil version took was predetermined from birth. At some point Marchenko 2 must have made a different decision. At that time it might not have been obvious which one would be right and which one wrong. Yet consequently one mind became an impostor, a murderer even, while the other one developed into someone he considers his father.

  Marchenko must know that both of these personality pathways are inside him, especially since meeting his alter ego. Therefore he puts in a great deal of effort to stay on the right side. Adam will have to tell him sometime, that this effort carries some danger of its own. He wonders whether Marchenko will accept this from his son.

  All the doubts Marchenko 2 sowed in his soul have, strangely enough, disappeared during the last few days. It simply doesn’t matter now who did not tell what to whom. Adam really does not want to know it anymore. They have worked together in a way befitting a family, and even the odd giant frog no longer seems to be a stranger, even though he has known him for only a day. The world is crazy.

  “It is working.”

  Adam is startled out of his musing because Marchenko comes from the control center into the crew room.

  “You are in contact with Messenger?” asks Eve, rising from her sleeping beam.

  “Yes. The codes are correct and I have full access.”

  “You still sound concerned, as if we have some big problem.”

  “You are right, Eve. I really should have thought of this earlier. Messenger—or more specifically, the orbital module—cannot land on the planet.”

  “It can’t be that difficult,” Adam says. “Gravity will pull anything down.”

  “True, but what I ought to have said was, ‘The ship can land, but not launch again.’ Marchenko 2 turned his command module into the undersea base. And you know where our command module is.”

  “In the middle of the desert,” Adam says. “But can’t we get it here by remote control?”

  “It is not prepared for a launch. No fuel. I think I even left the door open.”

  “Well, we didn’t think we would ever need it again,” Eve says apologetically.

  “So we have an orbital module that reacts to our calls and would fly us to the spaceship if only we could get on board somehow.”

  “Well summarized, Adam.”

  “I think I have an idea,” Eve says. “Is the onboard computer of the orbital module still working?”

  “Almost perfectly,” Marchenko says. Adam knows what Eve is thinking.

  “Then we can send you on board via radio. There you would have to use the nano-fabricators to create a new body for yourself.”

  “Would there be enough time for it?” Adam asks, giving his sister a skeptical look.

  “The fabricators could already get started, and they have time before you will have to enter the big ship.”

  “Yes, I can do that,” says Marchenko. “I knew we would find a solution. I am going to send an order to the fabricators right away. Then I will explain everything to Gronolf, and afterward you can say goodbye to me.”

  Brightnight 37, 3876

  Gronolf is walking around in the control center. If only he could talk to someone! The foreign machine made a demand he can’t accept—but if he rejects it, he will also have failed.

  Everything had started out so well. The humans found a means of transportation that could take them to the Majestic Draght. This method does not involve a landing on the planet. Instead, Marchenko described a plan that sounds like a scientific fairy tale to Gronolf: The AI wants to transfer to the ship by purely electronic means and then construct a new body on board. The Life Scientists of his people should be interested in this, because if the method could also be applied to biological beings, it would revolutionize travel.

  However, this revolutionary plan deeply distresses Gronolf. He has no choice but to let Marchenko fly alone to the Majestic Draght—and, he must give the AI all access codes. If the alien should solve the problem of the Omniscience, he could claim the spaceship as his own. According to Grosnop law, this would be entirely legal. The Majestic Draght would then be Marchenko’s personal trophy... just as he, Gronolf, could claim it if he were somehow the hero to liberate the ship. Naturally, being a Grosnop, he would then give the ship to his people as custom demands, but can he expect that from a machine?

  Gronolf slowly walks in circles. With each circle he looks into the decayed front eye of the desiccated general. How would you proceed? Which strategy would you employ? Should I take Adam and Eve hostage to force Marchenko to come back? While he just met the humans, these beings have shown themselves to be very reliable so far. They care as much for each other as a Grosnop mother would for her children. They are interested in self-preservation, of course, as that is a biological instinct, but he feels that there is more than that, a sense of responsibility. Is that related to the high developmental level of their civilization? That would be nice, Gronolf thinks, because that would give him a positive view of his own species’ future. The behavior of the leadership group made him doubt whether sophisticated technology always goes hand in hand with a sense of responsibility. Humans seem to be different in that aspect.

  Therefore he decides to trust them. He doesn’t have to tell Marchenko, though, that the AI could theoretically claim the Majestic Draght as his trophy. Gronolf is finally calmed enough to sit down again. He touches the console, locates the humans’ ship, and assigns it the code of a shuttle that crashed a long time ago, during the landings. Then he increases the system privileges of this shuttle so that it can dock in any airlock. Finally he copies the voice signature of the dead general who is sitting across from him. Marchenko has the highly useful ability to imitate
any voice input so perfectly that he can fool the best acoustic system. Of course, if the Omniscience blocks all access points he would not stand a chance.

  Gronolf gets up and walks to the crew room, where the humans are waiting for him. When he enters the room they are just performing a strange ceremony: All three are hugging each other. It would look funny if three of his comrades did this. Yet due to their slender shapes and thin arms—only two each, only six in total—it almost looks natural for humans. Saying goodbye seems to be very emotional for them. Drops of water flow from Eve’s eyes. Adam seems to have trouble breathing, because he sniffs and swallows several times.

  Gronolf taps the ground politely with his foot in order to alert the three to his entrance. They turn around and look at him. With humans you can be sure that they are paying attention, he thinks, and that makes dealing with them easier. However, only being able to scan 180 degrees should make it harder to survive in the wild. Gronolf is really glad he has four eyes.

  “You and your ship now have all the access privileges I can grant from here,” he says.

  Marchenko says something in the human language. He is probably interpreting. “Thanks. Do you have any tips concerning my technical equipment? I can freely modify my body,” he replies.

  “A perfect speech synthesis so you can identify yourself using the general’s voice. And for obstacles which the Omniscience still won’t remove, having a weapon with a good blasting effect would be advisable.”

  “Could you send me the plans of typical door and airlock constructions? I have an idea of how to get past locked doors without attracting attention.”

  Gronolf hesitates for a moment. Now Marchenko wants the ship’s blueprints, too? Of course he is right. If there is a way to open doors without explosions, that would definitely be better. “Certainly,” he says. “But don’t forget the weapon.” He remembers the moment when he tried to storm the life-support control room. His weapon had not been sufficient to save Murnaka’s life.

  “It would be ideal if the weapon could attack several targets at once. The opponents are not taller than you are now and are made of light alloys.” At least this is true if the Omniscience has not changed its tactics. And it would have had no reason to do that.

  “Are there body parts where the targets are especially vulnerable?”

  “No, the Omniscience copied our body structure and distributed all functions across the entire body.”

  “Okay, then I will have to decide according to each situation. I would prefer to avoid an armed conflict.”

  “That might be true,” Gronolf says. “Yet if the Omniscience completely seals off the central shell, entering it will be a great challenge. The outer hull is very sturdy.”

  “I will sneak up to it,” Marchenko says, “and before the Omniscience notices anything, I will already be inside the system.”

  “That would be optimal.”

  “Then we should say goodbye now. From where could you best transfer me?”

  Gronolf bends down and opens a flap at the base of the wall near the entrance. “There is a data input here that can be switched to the wireless system.” He points downward, “I only need details about the signal path. After all, your ship has to be able to process the signal.”

  “Sure,” Marchenko says, raising the display on his wrist.

  “That should be enough,” Gronolf says. “I will go to the control room and start programming the data. You can already connect here. You will notice an impulse in the line once it is about to start.”

  Marchenko crouches, pulls a cable from a flap in his side, and connects it to the wall outlet. “It fits,” he says.

  “It is all standardized, the way it should be on a ship.” Gronolf wonders what to wish Marchenko. An honorable death, the way warriors do? That might be misunderstood. It is only symbolic, as one really wishes the other person to win. Yet it is supposedly bad luck to say that.

  “Best wishes,” he finally says.

  “See you soon,” Marchenko replies. Gronolf goes to the control room and reprograms the radio transmitter to use human technology. Then he gives the start command. When he returns to the control room, he already sees Marchenko leaning lifelessly against the wall.

  Adam and Eve crouch next to him, each of them holding one of his hands.

  May 10, 19, Marchenko

  Suddenly he is the ship again. He feels as if he has come home in a suit, stripped it off along with the necktie and stiff shirt, and pulled on a comfy tracksuit. He spent many years here, first all alone, then with two infants who turned into children and became adults. That is not quite true, though, because he is inside Marchenko 2’s Messenger instead of his own. On the other hand, he can’t notice any difference. He is back home again.

  Marchenko mentally stretches himself with a deep relaxing sigh. He is reminded just how confining a robot body can be. When he first moved into J the robot a few months ago, he focused on the adventure ahead, the exploration of a completely new world. While the orbital module that now serves as his home is no more than a speck of dust in space, it gives him a feeling of freedom he missed in the gravitational well of the planet.

  Should he really move back into a solid body, the one that the nano-fabricators are presently assembling in the cabin? For a moment he even toys with the idea of running away. Perhaps the Omniscience had similar thoughts? Why should he care about humans or aliens? He is immortal, after all. He could leave the gravitational field of this sun behind and once again travel through space. Even if it takes him thousands of years, he has enough time. He can explore the galactic vicinity of Earth and then gradually move toward the center of the Milky Way. He will see things eternally inaccessible to mankind, if... yes, if he frees himself from his subservience to biological life forms.

  Marchenko is suddenly ashamed for entertaining these thoughts. He remembers the looks Adam and Eve gave him when saying goodbye. For them, he is not just a machine. They consider him as close to a father as they will ever have. And he thinks of them as his children. This urge to flee might be based on fear, the natural fear of death, because the Omniscience is dangerous. He has to save Adam and Eve. And he can only do that if he defeats the Omniscience. Then he can stay with his children until the end of their lives, and still have millions of years left to roam the universe.

  He aims the antenna at Proxima b and activates the transmitter. “This is Marchenko.”

  “This is Adam. Did you arrive safely?”

  “Yes. It is just like coming back home.”

  “Yes, I’d like to see Messenger again, too.”

  “The ship would seem small to you.”

  “Please return it in one piece. Have you already left the orbit?”

  “That will not be necessary. I have already started to turn and raise the orbit of Messenger around Proxima b. The alien ship is coming toward us, after all.”

  “When will you meet it?”

  “I estimate thirty-six hours of flight time. Then I have four or five hours on board the Majestic Draght to talk the Omniscience into cooperating with us.”

  “You will soon be in the radio shadow. Let me say goodnight now.”

  “The same to you, Adam, and say hello to the others.”

  The connection is interrupted. Marchenko only now realizes he spoke English. Gronolf would not have understood him. In an hour he will be back out of the area of radio silence.

  Talking to Adam felt good. Adam and Eve are his last connection to mankind—and perhaps his own human nature. Maybe his alter ego lacked this factor.

  May 11, 19, Eve

  Eve has spent a lot of time with her brother since Marchenko’s departure. Gronolf mostly leaves them alone, and they can only communicate in primitive phrases. Talking to him is difficult for her. It must be even harder for the alien, as he constantly has to remember not to use any sounds in the ultrasound range. Eve tried, just for fun, to lower her voice for a few sentences, but that was really exhausting.

  Marchenko ha
s left some food for them. If he doesn’t come back within two days, they will have to make do with carbohydrates that Gronolf will have to prepare chemically from Grosnop food, according to Marchenko’s instructions. That stuff won’t have any taste, but at least they are not going to starve. If Marchenko 2 had not become so crazy, they might be able to use his help now. If wishes were horses... She has never actually seen a horse, but she likes the saying. Eve remembers Marchenko using it when they were about thirteen or fourteen years old.

  Now the project of the day is to get their spacesuits and make them functional again, if possible. It is feasible, after all, that Marchenko succeeds with this phase of the plan and they will then be taking off in a much larger spaceship. Eve cannot really imagine this. They go to what is left of Adam’s suit, which he took off next to the exit from the coolant system channel.

  “We can’t fix the visor,” Eve says. She picks up the helmet and cautiously moves her hand across the material. A shard hits the ground with a soft tinkling noise.

  “Looks worse than it is,” Adam remarks. “I just dropped it, accidentally.”

  “Can you imagine how shocked I was when I found the helmet?”

  “I can.”

  “And that happened after I had considered you dead for a long time.”

  “It was pretty stupid of me to sneak off the sled.”

  “If I had not pushed every available button in the control room...” Once again if, if, if, she thinks. That won’t help them, though. She swipes a hand through the air. “That’s all behind us now. We should take this thing to the control room. Perhaps Gronolf can fix it. Grab your suit, and we’ll take it to him. After that, we’ll go pick up my suit.”

  They walk back next to each other. During the trip, they pass by the side corridor where the drama with Marchenko 2 had happened.

  “Do you think it was right that I shot him?”