by James Duggan
The combined Russian and Chinese input was concentrated on mastering the provision of unlimited power. Even with the help of the Ringo, the British Einstein genius, success was so far eluding them. A catastrophic implosion during the testing of one experiment would have set the whole program back three months and time was something they did not have to spare.
Fortunately, although they were gladly sharing the technology, they had the foresight to spread their efforts over several sites. Messing with nuclear power was a dangerous enough game without adding new equations to the mix. Their foresight was rewarded and they were able to continue the program virtually unhindered.
The Boeing plant in Everett was cleared of all its unfinished commercial aircraft in readiness to receive the pod components and begin assembly. There would be no need of Jumbo Jets and Dream-liners from now on. A similar fate befell the Airbus manufactured in Toulouse France which was to be the focal point of pod construction in Europe.
It was all systems go as the world waited hopefully for the breakthroughs in the power units and the launch system.
***
It was midnight many months later as Buck and Charlie sat with the rest of their team in the Baltimore control room monitoring the unswerving and indomitable advance of Ceres that they pondered ruefully what the future held.
For once they knew three years in advance exactly what it was; the annihilation of not just the human race, but the planet itself. Buck stirred uneasily. He was full of regret. It was not just for his own demise, but for the fact that he would never know what fantastic mysteries the universe was hiding from view.
‘I should have known better.’ he thought, as he sat there.
“I was never going to get to know it all in my lifetime anyway. The universe does not give up its mysteries without a struggle.” he muttered, mournfully.
He turned his attention to one of the screens where the news feed was looping ceaselessly giving minute by minute updates on the progress of Ceres. So called experts and charlatans were spewing out their uninformed expertise on every imaginable aspect of the inevitable strike.
Most of it was garbage and what real tangible facts they managed to include was irrelevant since the outcome was inevitable. The whole news feeding frenzy was nothing more than a spectacular countdown to Armageddon.
As if in some bizarre quirky way designed to somehow take the public’s mind off their dilemma and condition them to what lay ahead the only other news items were natural disasters.
Hurricane Gert was lying off the coast of the Carolinas and was expected to make landfall early the following morning. Typhoon Suki Lu was heading from the Philippines in the direction of Hong Kong threatening their high rise sky scrapers.
And as if to rub salt into the wound an earthquake measuring 6.4 on the Richter scale was wreaking its power deep in the San Andreas Fault threatening a Tsunami on the west coast of America. There was not one mention of all the wars that had been raging around the world up to the point of revelation.
Buck shuffled uncomfortably, turning to Charlie in the process.
“You know Charlie, there’s a cruel irony amidst all this impending doom.”
“OH, what’s that then Buck?”
Charlie had finally dispensed with the formalities. Mr Buchanan was no more. His boss was now his friend Buck.
“Well Charlie, in the entire recorded history of the planet there has only been a handful of days when one conflict or another was not raging somewhere on its surface. It’s taken the end of the world to stop the self inflicted carnage and focus the minds of the people on the precious nature of life.”
Charlie was struck by the awesome implications of such a profound statement, not knowing quite how to respond.
“Yeah, life’s a bitch ain’t it?” he said, after absorbing Buck’s outpouring.
“Yeah.” said Buck, in soulful agreement.
“Life’s a bitch all right and killing does absolutely nothing to advance it.”
***
LIVE AND LET DIE.
IT was thirty-three months to D-day. Some were thinking of it as ‘Destruction-day’, others ‘Departure-day’ and yet more thought of it as simply ‘Danger-day’. There were a few choice adjectives in between; usually uttered in frustration at their own powerless vulnerability.
It was all very subjective and their view of it rather depended on whether they were likely to be chosen to go or not. And that was the very reason why Buck found himself being processed through security at NASA Headquarters at Independence Square in Washington DC.
He was there to meet a hurriedly assembled committee of leading lights who had the unenviable task of deciding who should be awarded a place on the Cube and how their quality of life might be maintained.
The meeting was not being convened to decide who should go, but to decide the criteria required in order to be selected. It was no easy task and those attending entered the building with some trepidation.
Nobody wanted the job and drawing lots was not really an option. But it was a job which had to be done and someone had to do it; no matter how unsavoury it might seem. Deciding who lives and who dies is something no one should have to do to innocent people.
Besides Buck, the gathering included Carl Gambiadini, who chaired the meeting, General Armstrong, Mike McConnell director of the FBI and the same representatives from the other countries space agencies who had been at the original meeting in The White House three months earlier. There was only one amongst them who was not known to Buck and the reason for Sophia Wagner’s presence would become apparent as the meeting developed.
To Buck’s surprise the member who arrived last and out of breath was none other than Ringo Smith. He was not expecting him to be there since such decisions were not really his sphere of expertise and he had enough on his plate with the science required to give the meeting some purpose.
The clock was still ticking and there was no sign of a breakthrough on either of the two most important issues; the unlimited energy unit and the vacuum vortex launch facility. Without these the meeting would be in vain, but in the spirit of non defeatism such planning had to be implemented on the assumption all would be all right on the night.
Gambiadini opened the discussion.
“Okay people, we’ve got a shit job to do so let’s get on with it. Everyone in the world will want to know if there’s a place for them on this space cruise, but obviously we can’t accommodate them all and there’s going to be a whole lot of very disappointed citizens out there.
I and my team from the Astronaut Selection Board have some of the basic requirements already mapped out. These would be used if we were selecting our usual candidates for space flight.
It goes without saying that individuals would normally need to be physically fit, not in their dotage and be capable of bringing some science or special skill to the onboard community. Does anyone object to those basic criteria?”
No one spoke up.
“Okay ladies and gentlemen. The meeting is now closed. Thank you for attending. I’ll be on my way and sort the problem out myself.”
Gambiadini was more than a little miffed that amongst all these eminent leaders and scientists no one was prepared to share some of the responsibility for such an unsavoury task. As the main figure in all this Buck reluctantly intervened.
“Carl I understand your frustration. No one wants to play God here. I certainly don’t, but we have to grasp the hot end of the poker and map out some specifics.”
Gambiadini smiled graciously. He was obviously not going to close the meeting before it had begun. His flippant remark was designed to get things started and it had worked.
“Okay Buck, if you’ve got some ideas let’s hear them.”
Buck was wrong footed since in truth he had nothing significant to say. Almost for the sake of opening the discussion out he voiced the first thing that came into his head.
“Well okay, I’ll get you started. It might be useful to think of it from
the reverse angle; for example, those who should not go. We can whittle it down that way.”
“Okay.” said Gambiadini, hesitantly.
“Do you have a group in mind for starters?”
Buck was even more tentative than Gambiadini.
“Well actually yes.”
“Who then?” said the NASA man, impatiently.
“Well I don’t think we need any military personnel up there.”
That lit the blue touch paper. General Armstrong almost choked on his coffee.
“Just hold your horses there.” he said, with some passion.
“You’re surely not serious. You mean you intend to send thousands of people into an unknown frontier without any protection. I don’t fucking well think so.” he added, mockingly.
Buck was startled by the response, but almost immediately regained his composure.
“Protection from what? There’s nothing up there. All our efforts with SETI since it was set up in 1984 have so far failed to find even one solitary organism, or even a microbe of any kind; not even out beyond the solar system. And while we’re on the subject, I think there is no case for taking weapons of any sort on board. Let the human race go in peace for once.”
Armstrong was beside himself with indignation. He had been a military man all his adult life and now he was being told there was no use for him on this great adventure. His fate would be sealed there and then. He was lost for words, but he was also smart enough to realise Buck was right. He conceded the point as graciously as he could.
“Well I just hope ET is friendly when they eventually come across him.” he said, with some considerable misgivings.
“Okay.” said Gambiadini, relieved they had not come to blows.
“That rules out several million. Are there any more undeserving groups?”
It was time for Mike McConnell to add his ten cents worth on behalf of the FBI.
“Well if there is no need for the military, then I suppose it would not be unreasonable to exclude all those with a criminal record. A close knit community where everyone is dependent on each other does not need the disruptive influence of the dregs of society.”
Buck, who was compassionate by nature, was unsettled by the generalisation which seemed to include anyone and everyone who ever had a run-in with the law.
He knew for example that there were more than two thousand laws covering motoring offences alone. Nearly everyone who has ever driven a car has fallen foul of the law at some time or other, whether they knew it or not.
He voiced this information to the rest of the meeting. The knowledge that some groups might just be too broad a description which could result in nobody being allowed to go at all drew a collective sharp intake of breath.
Gambiadini had the solution.
“Yeah, it would be hard to find anyone who has a clean record on that basis. I suggest all crimes against the person be the specific criteria.”
There were nods of approval all around the table.
The meeting continued along the same lines for a couple of hours during which time one group or another was eliminated for what was thought to be very good reasons leaving only the best brains and skills society had to offer.
The successful cosmic explorers mainly consisted of astronauts, scientists, astronomers, medical personnel, engineers and surprisingly, specialists in agriculture. The latter were thought necessary for food production.
Buck smiled to himself at their inclusion. There was a quirky irony to their good fortune since Ceres, was originally named after the Roman Goddess of Agriculture. Now here she was intent upon the destruction of the planet only for the future of the human race to be especially dependent upon the skills of farmers.
After all the discussion there was still the thorny question of how to select even those people still on the list. After all, as Buck put it very succinctly.
“We are only going to be printing about ten thousand tickets; ten thousand out of nearly eight billion…and that’s if we are lucky.”
There was a deafening silence as everyone sat around the table looking at each other believing in their hearts there was no ideal solution to the problem. The quiet became almost embarrassing before it was finally broken by a lonely hesitant voice.
It was President Richards’ aide Joan Oliveira who was once more only there to witness proceedings and report back. It was she who had proposed a solution to the question of how to motivate a workforce doomed to die and knowing the horrendous means by which they will meet their fate in advance.
“I wonder whether a nominee system might be the answer.”
“How so?” said Buck, eagerly seeking clarification.
“Well perhaps people in the know could put forward a candidate they consider suitable for inclusion; someone who would be considered an asset on a unique and perilous journey of this nature.”
Appreciative glances were being passed around the table as Buck took up the suggestion and developed it further.
“Joan, I just don’t understand quite where you get your insight from, but I do believe you’ve done it again.”
He knew from previous experience that Joan was prone to blushing on receipt of compliments. Once more she couldn’t hide her reddening cheeks as those around her smiled in appreciation. To them it seemed like an ideal solution to an impossibly difficult problem which would get them off the hook.
“We will have to build in some safeguards to avoid the natural inclination for two people to reciprocate nominations in their own self interest.”
“What would you suggest?” said Gambiadini.
Buck thought for a moment.
“Well maybe there should be no direct contact traceable between the nominee and his sponsor. In fact it might be best if there were at least four degrees of separation between them. To make it more might dilute the value and knowledge the one has of the other.”
Gambiadini was pleased with this arrangement. It relieved him of a most unpleasant task and made the whole process more objective. He instructed that a register be set up and those with the highest number of votes in any given category would get a ticket to ride.
The relief within the room was evident as they set about another task; that of ensuring life on the cube would be bearable. Whereas the selection of candidates was an emotional issue this one was of a much more practical nature.
***
THE CUBE OF LIFE.
GAMBIADINI was the focal point of this particular discussion. He knew from long experience what the average run of the mill astronaut needed to maintain life on a short term space flight, but this would be no ordinary journey.
Those who went would be faced with the possibility of drifting in space for years on end and maybe many generations would pass before a suitable habitable planet was found where they could finally settle.
The expedition was comparable to the experiences endured by the first seagoing explorers who set sail at a time when some considered thinking was still that the earth was flat. But this was on a scale far beyond the comprehension of those who made such perilous journeys.
“I think it’s time to introduce Sophia Wagner to the discussion.” said Gambiadini.
All heads turned towards the only other woman in the room besides Joan Oliveira. She looked about forty five rather than the sixty plus which her birth certificate would have betrayed. Her appearance was no doubt due to the fact that she kept a good hairdresser busy on a regular basis and was slave to a rigorous fitness regime in the gym coupled with whatever skin toners were popular at any given time.
“For the few who may not know she is a distinguished Professor of Sociology, but her talents are not limited to that one sphere. She has several other ‘ologies to her name which require a string of letters after it. It is sufficient to say that her expertise is considered to be of great value to NASA in establishing the basic qualities of life during extended space flights.”
There were a number of well qualified people at the meeting whose own le
arning curve appreciated the work and dedication needed to achieve such recognition. Their faces showed their admiration for such talent.
“Sophia, would you please outline what you think are the basic requirements for a reasonable quality of life on such a long space journey. In what little time we have left we will try and build accordingly.”
The Professor was in no way intimidated by the distinguished company she was keeping as she responded to the invitation.
“Well this is a near impossible task since the scale of the operation is huge and as Mister Gambiadini has already intimated we do not have the luxury of time on our side to plan for best practise. I could go rattling on for hours about what is needed and how we should service that need, but I won’t. I’ll cut right to the chase. What you do about it will be up to you.”
There were apprehensive looks around the table as the gathering waited for her considered opinion.
“The best way I can think of to deal with this is to introduce you to Maslow’s Hierarchy of human needs, or as some prefer to call it ‘The Pyramid of Life’. This is often illustrated as a five tiered pyramid which includes ‘Physiological Needs’ at the base rising at each level with ‘Safety’, ‘Love and Belonging’, ‘Esteem’, with ‘Self-actualisation’ at the top.”
Sophia paused for a moment to let that sink in and to gather her thoughts as she prepared to elaborate.
“The ‘Physiological Needs’ are considered to be breathing, water, food, sleep, clothing, shelter and sex. With the exception of the last one we have already mastered the provision of those needs; albeit with some discomfort. I would hope that Mister Ringo’s advances in science and technology will enable us to improve greatly upon the quality of these particular needs.”
She paused again expecting a question regarding the last item. It never came since nobody was prepared to be the one to ask it. So she continued with a glint in her eye.
“As for the sex, well I have a feeling the community will find a way of overcoming that need naturally. Again Mister Ringo’s mastery of gravitational forces will no doubt help there.”