by James Duggan
“Nice one mate.” said Ringo, in appreciation.
“What else is there?”
“Press that button again Sophia.” said Gambiadini, smiling.
Again she did as she was asked.
“Wow!” she exclaimed.
The image of the cosmos turned immediately to fields of a green and pleasant land as if seen from the basket of a hot air balloon. As they watched in wonderment admiring the view Ringo couldn’t resist the temptation to press the button again.
The image turned to a flight through the Grand Canyon as it would be seen from a helicopter. Another image appeared of a flight along the Thames and under Tower Bridge in London as Buck tried his hand with the button.
As the group viewed the changing images Gambiadini watched their faces light up in admiration at each new revelation.
“Of course we have thousands of hours of material which can either be set to random viewing or selected with a remote control you’ll find in the storage box. That should connect with any individual’s psyche and bring back fond memories of life on Earth. Of course it might contribute to an outbreak of home sickness too, but at least we tried.” said Gambiadini, wistfully.
Sophia was impressed and said as much with Buck and Ringo high fiving alongside her. Gambiadini was pleased the efforts of his team seemed to be acknowledged.
“Well as I said, these pods should be thought of as areas of solitude only when people want it that way. It’s the rest of the Cube which is the real innovation. You’d better be sure of your promises Mister Smith, because without your launch capability the rest of what we are planning will doom the whole thing to failure.”
“How many more times do I have to say it?” pleaded Ringo.
“It’ll work. Trust me…it’ll work.” he said, in exasperation.
“Well I hope so.” said Gambiadini.
He picked up the remote control and keyed in a four digit code. A new image appeared on the rear wall. It was an artist’s impression of what the fully assembled Cube would look like floating through a sea of stars. It wasn’t quite what Buck had originally envisaged, but it was close enough. He accepted the configuration on the grounds that these NASA guys knew what they were doing. It was a very impressive sight.
There was hesitation in Gambiadini’s voice as he proceeded to outline NASA’s preparations.
“We plan to put about a mile of communal arterial links up there in each cube in one great labyrinth of an interconnected structure.”
There was a splutter of disbelief in the confined space where they stood as those present looked at each other questioningly.
“How on earth are you going to do that? It sounds preposterous.”
“Well it was really your idea in the first place Buck. All we’ve done is take it on board and develop it.”
“How so?” said Buck, looking for more insight.
“Well it’s this modular idea of yours. You see each of these pods can accommodate thirty-two people. We propose to have twenty-six dormitory units all linked to a central energy sphere which will give us a total population on the Cube of eight hundred and thirty-two. If we can manage to build ten cubes we will be able to save eight thousand three hundred and twenty lives.
“Fucking hell mate, that’s all a bit ambitious…even for me.” blurted out Ringo, who until then had been full of confidence in his own abilities.
“Precisely, and that’s why we need service units; lots of them…one thousand five hundred and sixty to be exact. Each unit will be ten metres by ten by ten and unlike the dormitory pods each one will be finished battleship grey; chrome plating all those would be unnecessary not to mention time consuming and costly. Can you still lift all those, together with two hundred and sixty dormitory pods, into orbit Mister Smith?”
“Of course I can…as long as it’s one at a time.” replied Ringo, having recovered his composure.
“Well I certainly hope so because we plan to link them as arterial arms connecting each residential pod in the form of a huge cube about one hundred metres by one hundred by one hundred.”
“Ah I think I see where all this is going.” said Buck in a moment of enlightenment.
“Tell me if I’m wrong Carl, but to feed and help occupy the time of over eight hundred people on each cube these arterial links are going to need to accommodate food cultivation areas together with physical fitness gyms, workshops, ablutions, water purification plants and medical units.
There will probably even be communal lounges and occupational units, together with storage facilities for the seed banks and fertiliser plants for converting human waste etc…in fact ten flying towns hurtling through space.”
‘I hope they are all prepared to become vegans, because animals are out.’ he thought, smiling inwardly.
Gambiadini was visibly disappointed his thunder had been stolen by the ever astute Irish American.
“That’s about the size of it.” he said, graciously.
“Or to put it more literally about ten miles of it.” he added.
He looked meaningfully at Sophia for approval. She gave it with a simple nod of the head and a broad smile.
Gambiadini was waiting for more reaction, but in the absence of any further comments he simply said.
“Of course the whole thing has to be constructed from standard sized modular service units with three different interior formats for the residential pods depending upon their position in the overall structure. That’s where Jacob and Matt’s production teams and facilities come in.” he said looking at Jacob Corby from Ford for support.
Corby frowned slightly at the thought of the enormous task his company had been given.
“Well I think we are talking about around one thousand eight hundred and twenty units to complete ten Cubes.” said Corby.
There was a gasp from those around him.
“Yes it sounds a lot, but if you think about it there is really not much difference between producing one of these pods on a continuous production line and knocking out luxury cars. In fact the pods are easier to produce since unlike a car with up to twenty thousand components and thousands of moving parts they are relatively uncomplicated.”
Buck knew he was handling an ambitious project here, but that sounded as if it was way beyond his expectations.
“I have to remind you Mister Corby that we have only thirty-one months to D-day. For the Cubes to be free and clear of the impact zone and somewhere out in the region of Mars they will need to leave earth orbit about six months ahead of that. It means you have a little more than two years to meet the demand.” said Buck, struggling for reassurance.
Corby remained thoughtful for a moment. He hadn’t figured on losing the six months just before D-day.
“Hmmm…I think it can be done. If we step up the effort and work twenty-four seven I believe we can turn out the components for at least two pods a day, possibly three when we get into our stride. That should cover it. After all we do churn out several hundred cars a day from one plant alone without breaking sweat; over six million worldwide last year.” he added proudly.
That seemed to satisfy Buck, but he was still uneasy as he turned to Matt Montgomery from Boeing.
“Mister Montgomery, can you and your team handle that kind of assembly and launch program and still ensure the integrity of the pods?”
Montgomery ruffled the back of his neck as he considered how best to answer that question.
“Well Mister Buchanan, before all this started Boeing were producing over sixty Airbus aircraft per month. These pods of yours are nothing like as complicated as just the cockpit of one of those. Does that answer your question?” replied Montgomery nonchalantly.
“It does.” said Buck, grinning broadly.
Those were the kind of positive responses he was looking for to ensure the success of this project.
Gambiadini could see there was nothing else to discuss.
“Well other than that I think we can safely say we’ve cracked it. It’ll
be a virtual home from home.”
He gave Ringo a meaningful look as if to say. ‘We’ve done our bit. Now it’s your turn.’
Ringo simply spread out his arms and shrugged.
***
OUTRAGEOUS PHYSICS.
WITHIN two weeks of the meeting at San Jose in California Ringo found himself gazing out of a laboratory window across the Volga River in Dubna about seventy-five miles north of Moscow.
He was there at the request of the Russian Nuclear Research Facility to liaise with their best brains in pursuit of the illusive holy grail of physics; unlimited free energy.
After a tedious passage through security he had been escorted to the lab and asked to wait whilst the Chinese delegation were processed in the same way.
The endeavour had now become a collaboration between the two great Eastern European nations. All thoughts of working independently had been abandoned due to lack of progress and time was running out. A breakthrough was required…and urgently.
Ringo waited patiently, aware that his every movement was being monitored by a security camera in each corner of the room. He wasn’t particularly bothered by this close scrutiny. It was what he had come to expect from a nation with a long history of paranoia about such things.
His previous visits had been subject to the same regime. He did however think that with the world in danger of annihilation in a little over two and a half years there would have been some relaxation of such a rigid administration. After all things must pass on and what would it matter after the event if all secrets were an open book?
‘Old habits die hard.’ he thought, as he sighed and turned to look at the huge whiteboard on the inner wall.
It was covered in equations which would make most normal people bleed through their tear ducts, but to him they held no fear. He studied them almost casually to pass the time as he waited.
There was scuffling out in the corridor telling him his wait was near its end. The door opened and a mixture of Chinese and Russian scientists entered hurriedly. They were led by General Romanov who became their spokesman with Mister Chung of the National Peoples Congress backing him up at his side.
“Good morning Mister Smith. Glad you were able to find the time to attend.”
“No probs mate. What can I do for you lot?”
“Well you are probably aware by now that we are at an impasse. No matter how we and our Chinese friends try working and reworking these equations you see on the board all our efforts come to nothing. We just don’t seem to be able to connect all the dots…as you sometimes say in your country.”
“So what happens then mate?”
“Well unless you can come up with an answer we’ll have to give up on it and we all die. We’ve tried everything.”
“No mate. I mean what happens when you test each theory?”
“Oh yes. Well it’s hard to explain really. In simple terms we set it all up in the test chamber and press the start button. Our computer monitors tell us a nuclear reaction starts off all right in the core. The heat gradually builds until it’s white hot matching the temperature on the surface of the sun and producing energy.”
Romanov faltered in his delivery. His embarrassment in front of his Chinese associates was evident; though there was no good reason for it since they were having no more success themselves.
“It stays like that for maybe ten minutes before suddenly imploding in a blinding flash. It’s that part which we can’t control. When it cools down we open up the chamber to analyse the result and all we find is a solid angular lump of black mass about fifty centimetres in diameter. It turns out to be harder than cobalt steel and heavier than we can lift.”
Ringo had listened politely, but with apparent disinterest. It was an annoying trait of his which did not fill others with confidence in his abilities. He said nothing for a full minute as the Russians and Chinese exchanged anxious glances.
“Mister Smith?” said Romanov, eventually prompting him.
Ringo responded by adjusting his Stetson and scanning the whiteboard.
“Do you have one of these lumps handy pal?”
Romanov nodded to a lab technician indicating he should produce one. While he was waiting for it to materialise Ringo studied the equations on the board intently. Within minutes the door opened and a flatbed trolley was pushed through it with great difficulty by two assistants in white coats. It was trundled into the middle of the lab where Ringo began an inspection.
It was indeed a black mass, but rather than being just round and lumpy it had what appeared to be growths protruding from its spherical centre in the way that angular crystals form.
“Have you got a toffee hammer mate? I need a toffee hammer.”
Several in the room appeared bewildered as they glanced around the worktops for what they thought a toffee hammer should look like. No such item could be seen. In fact the lab was devoid of tools of any kind. Romanov came to the rescue.
He unbuttoned a side holster on his right hip and with one deft movement withdrew his beloved Makarov handgun. With another skilful move he twirled it on his finger and offered it to Ringo; butt first.
“Will this do?” he said, casually.
Ringo stepped back in alarm with hands raised defensively. He had never even handled a gun before; let alone used one.
“Is it loaded mate?” he asked, warily.
“Of course it’s loaded. What use is a gun without bullets in it?” snapped Romanov.
“Can you disarm it mister?”
Romanov pulled his arm back impatiently and nimbly removed the cartridge chamber before offering it again to his nervous looking visitor. Ringo took it uneasily and approached the black mass. He stood in front of it for a moment eying it thoughtfully before giving one of the protrusions a blow with the barrel of the gun.
The General winced visibly to see one of the tools of his trade being used in this fashion. There was a high pitched ping as the comparatively soft metal of the gun struck the much harder material of the so-called blob.
Ringo listened carefully for a moment to the pitch of the resonance he had created on this impromptu tuning fork. It was a sound no one else in the room could hear. He repeated the attack several times on different areas of the blob with Romanov flinching on each occasion behind him. Nobody in the group could understand what was going on, but allowed it to continue in the belief that there must be a good reason for this behaviour.
Eventually Ringo stood back and turned to the equations on the board. He grabbed an eraser and with some swift wrist movements removed a small area of numbers and symbols. He looked around for a marker pen and not being able to find one turned to the group behind him with his arms open. The hint was immediately recognised and one of the trolley technicians produced a marker from the breast pocket of his lab gown.
Ringo stood for a moment looking at the gap in the equation before quickly filling it with numbers and symbols of his own. He stood back and appeared satisfied with his work allowing the scientists amongst them to move forward eagerly to examine the results.
As they gesticulated excitedly between themselves Ringo turned to Romanov.
“Hey Mister General, they very nearly had it. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them how close they were, but let them figure it out for themselves; they’ll learn it better that way. Get them to try that and let me know how it works out.”
Romanov looked at him bewildered as he extended his hand for the return of his sidearm. He examined it closely before reinserting the ammunition cartridge and returning it to its rightful place on his hip. He was about to ask Ringo what that had been all about, but realised it was pointless; he would not understand the answer.
While the boffins were still gathered around the board absorbing the implications of the changes to the equation Ringo slipped away quietly with the general leading the way.
“I’ll come back when they’ve tried that, but if it doesn’t work then they might as well cancel everything else they’re doin
g because I can’t see another way pal.
The escapees will have to make do with a more conventional power source. Perhaps the pods can be clad with solar cells or something mate.”
The General saluted the Liverpudlian before ordering a staff car to take him to a Russian Air Force plane bound for America; a sign of the ever more relaxed nature of the relationship between the two world powers.
As the car sped away Ringo sat in the back seat with a huge smile on his face which bemused the driver watching him intently in the rear view mirror.
***
Another two weeks passed as the global effort to save the remnants of mankind continued at a pace. There could be no letup in the newly acquired international spirit of co-operation brought about by the most potentially catastrophic event in the history of the world.
Buck sat alone at midday in his office at the Goddard Space Flight Centre. The weight of his responsibilities was bearing heavily on his shoulders as he leaned with elbows on his desk; head resting in his hands. His salt and pepper hair was becoming more salt than pepper after six months of intense activity in pursuit of human salvation.
As he considered the chances of success he contemplated what had been accomplished so far. Progress would appear painfully slow to an observer unacquainted with the underlying planning and yet he knew they were on the cusp of achieving great things.
A plan had been conceived and international endeavour and cooperation was being demonstrated in pursuance of that plan. Iconic national companies had cleared their assembly lines and converted to the production of what amounted to a cosmic version of Noah’s Ark.
To Buck this was all very laudable, but without the ability to launch the whole thing into space it would be to no avail. The only possible tangible benefit to be identified so far was that it occupied the minds of those involved in the venture and gave hope to the public at large.