I want to know how straight this path is, so I decide to follow it. Its trajectory does not aim directly at the edge of the shadow but approaches it at an angle. I contact Adam via radio. He grumbles a bit but then changes his direction and now walks parallel to the path.
Eve follows me without being asked. For a while the path is so straight I really believe it was deliberately planned, but then it suddenly forks. In the middle there is an island about five meters wide covered by the leafy plants, with the two subsidiary paths running around it.
I have a suspicion. First I dig out a plant from the island, then another one from outside the right edge of the path. I compare both with the specimen I picked up earlier. The result is surprising. We seem to be witnessing a war of the plants, which use chemical weapons to take territory from their adversaries. While the three specimens do look similar externally, there are clear genetic differences. To test this I dig a few feet deep into the path and discover the root systems of the leafy plants are not connected beneath the path.
The entity forming the small island appears to be doomed, as it is threatened by two, much-larger entities to the west and east. The path seems to be something like a line of demarcation. The leaves of the outermost specimens in the west are infused with sodium and potassium compounds, while those of the east with magnesium. The rain then washes these compounds out as salt, so that the area between them becomes a barren battle zone. Only the hair plants seem to profit from this.
It is reassuring to think that humans are not the only species in the universe waging war against its own members. I explain my findings to Adam and Eve.
“That’s somehow interesting,” Adam says, “but is it useful for us? Does it help us to know this?”
“Perhaps it will help us to fulfill the mission,” I suggest.
“I couldn’t care less about that.”
“We know what these plants are allergic to. We could use that when we build our own base, in order to keep the area free of plants.”
“That’s what I meant,” Adam says. “Perhaps you could focus more on practical knowledge like this, instead of on theory. We have to hold out here for many years.”
I had better stop talking now. Another 15 minutes to the edge of the shadow zone, then it will be time for the next ‘night.’ Almost 500 kilometers lie before us, and here in the open steppe we won’t find any protection against the flares of Proxima Centauri.
December 23, 18
We have covered approximately 75 kilometers since the day before yesterday, and I am proud of Adam and Eve for holding up so well. Despite blisters on their feet neither complains, and despite the high gravity we are moving at a good pace. On our way we came across several more domain borders between different specimens of the leafy plants.
Extrapolated to the entire planet, this would mean that there are about 10,000 separate beings here. That is a very low number of individuals, which could impede their long-term survival in case of a natural catastrophe. Yet the plants seem to have adapted extremely well, and so far I have found no parasites. As an ecosystem the steppes are very boring, but the abilities of the plants are impressive. They must defend themselves chemically against potential pests and have managed to exterminate those. They only leave the hair plants alive, probably because they are useful to them.
I am thinking of the Enceladus creature—which consists of numerous independent cells—as I talk with Adam and Eve this morning about the plant species here on Proxima b. Of course it is not a real morning, just the time after getting up.
“Could the individual domains communicate with each other?” I ask both of them.
Adam gives me an incredulous look and says, “You think the plants are talking to each other?”
“Perhaps not in the sense of human language,” I reply.
“During biology lessons you told us that plants on Earth can communicate via messenger substances,” Eve states.
“Yes, within certain limits,” I answer. “The fact that they poison those paths here points in that direction.”
“But you are really thinking of something else, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Eve. I wonder if they can exchange thoughts. These plant collectives must be fairly old. They even survived the huge flare, and probably those before it.”
“I assume they would think very slowly.”
“Why do you believe that?” I ask.
“Due to the distances alone,” Eve replies. “Just look at the human body. Now imagine your arm was 100 kilometers away.”
“You are probably right, at least if these plants communicate electrochemically like we do.”
“Do you think they discovered a different way?” Eve asks.
“I am going to find out.”
“Do you think these plants sent the message to Earth?” Eve asks. She wants to know.
“Most definitely not. They lack all requirements to do so. They have no technology, just their gigantic bodies in the soil of the steppes.”
“Then why are you so interested in these plants, Marchenko?”
“Perhaps I can ask them what they witnessed. They might know where the senders of the message went.”
“And if those creatures are no longer here. If they were killed by the enormous eruption? Or, if they left here in time?”
“Then we will find traces of them, Eve, one way or another.”
“What will happen to us then?” she asks.
I pretend not to fully understand her question. “We will analyze these traces and then keep looking for these beings.”
Eve shakes her head. Five minutes later she finally speaks, “I am starting to understand Adam.”
I do not want to know what she means by this.
December 25, 18
Christmas! I had previously asked Adam and Eve if we should take a break because of the holiday, but both of them were against it. They said they were too old for such festivities, and the reason for the holiday is part of something that was too far away. Nevertheless, I insisted we have a common meal in the evening.
During the past few days, Adam has slipped into his sleeping bag after the tent was set up and we’d had our hastily prepared meals. Twice I just happened to see his face contort as he was masturbating. This is adolescence. I cannot even remember how I felt at that age. Maybe I do not want to remember. However, an endless journey with parents and siblings would definitely not have been high on my wish list.
On this special day, though, we all sit around a campfire. I had started collecting and drying leaves the day before yesterday, and now they are feeding the fire. At first, I wondered if we should do this to the plants, but then I thought of the poisoned paths. Dying must be an everyday event for these leafy plants, and a root system should be able to handle it if I selectively strip an area of three by three meters. Where would their consciousness be located, if they have one?
Now the fire crackles, smelling like burning reeds. Even though it is not darker than usual, the flames are reflected in the eyes of Adam and Eve, as they sit cross-legged, leaning forward. I never managed to sit like that for long when I was still a human. Adam’s eyes look so moist one might think he is crying.
“And now?” I ask.
“Now what?” Adam says. He seems to be annoyed because I disrupted the silence.
“Christmas. December 25th. That used to be a good occasion for looking back into the past,” I answer.
“There is no past, only the future.”
“So what happened in the last few months doesn’t count, Adam?”
“I don’t know why it should. It was all just a prelude.” Adam is breathing faster. Eve places a hand on his shoulder and he calms down again.
“Adam, I need you here... You, too, Eve,” I assure them.
The young man gives me an angry look. “For the mission, yes, I know,” he says, bitterly.
I want to reply, ‘No,’ but I do not manage to say it. I know he is basically right.
“We have bee
n traveling so long,” Adam explains. “We were made for this planet, but it is so obvious we don’t belong here. We are visitors, though we have to stay forever. Considering this, what role does the past play?”
I cannot argue with Adam’s sentiment. I could say that I did not choose to go on this journey, either, but it will not help him. I trust he is going to find his place.
January 4, 19
It has been a really long walk, two weeks, across a seemingly endless steppe. Getting up, walking, lying down, sleeping—all while the dusky sun seemed to be glued to a spot in the sky. It did not rain a single time, and I am beginning to wonder how any vegetation can survive here. There are no seasons, as an entire orbit around the sun only lasts a few days. It’s just possible that some kind of seasonal changes might occur, if not caused by the energy of the sun, then by other factors.
The average sleep period of Adam and Eve has decreased day by day. The day-night rhythm seems to be embedded in the human genetic code. How long will it take for them to get used to the fact the sun never sets?
During the last few days we only talked when it was necessary. But we still managed to keep our pace and even arrived here a day earlier than planned. The forest, which is our eventual destination, might not only offer us protection against the flares but also save us from this humdrum routine.
I look at Proxima Centauri. The sun is noticeably lower than it was two weeks ago. This is obviously caused by us walking westward over some great distance. The eastern sky has now taken on a reddish hue. Brightness sensors indicate that 20 percent less light gets down here, yet the leafy plants have adapted to it. Their leaves have ribbing which increases their photo-sensitive surface.
We are still unable to see the forest, which must be about 30 kilometers away. Nevertheless, I can feel Adam and Eve are as excited as I am.
January 5, 19
We will soon be there. Adam and Eve have insisted they will not stop for sleep until they have first seen the treetops of the forest appear on the horizon. These final kilometers are taking us longer than usual.
We can see it. The forest looks impressive through its sheer height, even from afar. The tallest trees reach more than 200 meters. We soon notice, however, that the forest is much less static than the steppes. In fact, there appears to be a lot of movement going on there. I suspect that different microclimates develop in various layers, that the exchange between them causes this, and that there also might be a lot of wind.
I am surprised by the clear boundary to the forest, though. “Wouldn’t it be more logical if the forest started with smaller trees, and then they gradually get taller and stand closer to each other?” I ask Adam and Eve.
“It doesn’t matter,” Adam says. “There must be some reason for it, and the more we hurry, the sooner we find out.”
His prediction turns out to be true. We find the reason in the steppe about five kilometers before reaching the forest, where the ground is suddenly gray. There is absolutely no vegetation. It looks as if something had cleared the entire area from here to the forest. This time, not even the hair plants grow in the intermediate zone.
I stop, analyze the ground, and am shocked at my finding. Back on Earth not even a hazardous waste site would have accepted such contaminated soil.
“Adam, Eve, it is getting dangerous here,” I warn them.
Adam looks at me as if I was teasing him and says, “Excuse me? What do you mean?”
“The soil is pure poison,” I reply. “You have to close your helmets, otherwise you might faint. The air above the ground is also contaminated.”
Adam still gives me a skeptical look, but at least he obeys my instructions. “What is the reason? Who did this?”
“I don’t know, Adam,” I reply, but I have a suspicion. I remember the chemical warfare between the leafy plants. Could something like that happen between these plants and the forest, just on a larger scale? What are we witnessing, and what does it tell us about the nature of the forest? I carefully analyze the soil composition. If the leafy plants managed to stop the forest, this method might be adaptable to use as a weapon, if required.
Now of all times it is starting to rain. What would we have given during the last two weeks for this break in the routine! Adam and Eve are already 200 meters ahead of me, crossing the empty plain in front of the forest, when I realize the significance of my soil analysis. The high content of salts, fluorine, chlorine, sulfur... What will happen if this stuff gets thoroughly soaked? How quickly will the ions separate in the water? How long will it take before hydrofluoric acid, hydrochloric acid, and sulfuric acid develop?
“Adam, Eve, come back as quickly as possible!” I tell them via radio. I can see that Eve reacts and stops.
“Are you crazy, Marchenko?” Adam exclaims.
I do not know what he is thinking, but I must stop him from continuing toward the forest. “Adam, you will soon be walking through a lake of acid! Your boots won’t be able to withstand that,” I warn him.
I have no idea whether this will really happen. Maybe the water will run off fast enough, and the worst Adam has to fear is muddy boots. But then again, I could also be right. I hope he will listen to me. At least he stops now.
Eve walks to him, and the two discuss something with their radios turned off. Eve was always the more sensible of the two. She should be able to convince him. But then afterward, the two of them just shake hands. Eve walks in my direction while Adam moves toward the forest. His helmet radio is still off. I implore him to come back but—of course—I can’t get through. The rain is increasing, and a lightning bolt flashes from the clouds, striking out in the open. Eve starts running. I briefly lose sight of Adam, and when I look back in his direction, the field is covered with fog. He is gone.
“Adam, come back!” I yell over the helmet radio. Eve will reach me in a moment, and we should be safe here where the leafy plants are still growing. What about Adam? I hear Eve also trying to reach him via radio. The fog turns thicker and grows closer, as if the lower edge of the storm cloud touched the ground. Then we hear a splashing sound. We must have heard it at the same time, because we simultaneously turn our heads in the direction of the sound. Adam comes racing toward us, covered with mud, but it does not seem to be adversely affecting him. He sees us at the last moment and almost crashes into us, but I manage to catch him.
“That’s the last time you will need to say, ‘I told you so.’ That’s a promise, Marchenko,” he gasps, almost out of breath. No matter. The important thing is that nothing has happened to him.
The future does not matter, either. For the moment, it’s the present that counts. A present in which we are being soaked by dense, warm rain, and nothing in this world can harm us.
January 6, 19
It continued raining for four more hours, and afterward the rainwater needed almost half a day to drain. Adam and Eve emerge from the tent appearing more rested than in quite some time.
“The rain drumming against the tent fabric was so soothing, and I slept better today than ever before on Proxima b,” Eve says.
Adam does not say anything, he just nods. He cannot help acting this way, and I accept it.
I ask the two, “Ready for the last kilometers?”
“I am looking forward to it,” Eve says.
We pack away the tent and gear and start walking. The forest scares me less today than it did yesterday. It somehow seems to have calmed down. Perhaps the trees needed the refreshing rain as much as we did. Now and then we deviate to avoid a larger puddle, but otherwise it is easy again to cross the empty strip between the plants and the forest.
The closer we come to the forest the more majestic it seems to me. At first Adam and Eve keep joking in low voices, but then they gradually also fall under its spell. It is only when we get really close that we can fathom the true dimension of these giant trees.
We stop about 100 meters from the boundary. From the outside, the forest looks to me like a green New York. The naked trunks see
m to soar upward like skyscrapers, and their leaves appear far, far above us. In this place, whoever reaches up highest is the winner. From afar everything seems to be in constant motion, but the gigantic leaves, which must be ten meters long, are so far above us we are hardly conscious of them individually. It feels like entering a huge cathedral with a roof 200 meters high, supported by the many columns of tree trunks. No sunlight shines through the dome of this building, because all of it is intercepted by the leaves and turned into energy. Nonetheless, it is not dark down here.
“Look,” says Eve, her mouth wide open. Adam, standing next to her, is also amazed. A fairytale landscape lies before us. It shines in sparkling colors promising gold and gems. Aladdin’s treasure chamber would pale compared to this.
We enter the forest. The ground is covered by plants we have not seen earlier.
“Fungi, like giant mushrooms,” Adam says.
Indeed, the plants each have a stem reaching into the ground and a cap at the top. It is these caps that radiate the multi-colored light. There are numerous varieties: small ones, with stripes issuing from the center; larger ones with small spots; medium-sized ones with trembling lamellas on the facing side; and big, wrinkled ones. Plus, there are even specimens that can barely fit under J’s two-meter-tall robot body. All the different shapes radiate light in various colors, but there seems to be no correlation between shape and color. This accounts for the overwhelming, magical effect the interior of this gigantic ‘cathedral’ has on us. It alone makes the entire journey worthwhile.
I watch Adam and Eve. They are just as impressed as I am. Adam takes a few steps into the forest and then sits down, leaning against one of the gigantic trees. “This is where we will build our base,” he proclaims.
Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction Page 15