The Wall: Eternal Day

by Brandon Q Morris

  Jonathan, Jonathan, he thought, all this uncertainty seems to be getting to you. He patted his cheeks like a little kid. Little Jonny wants to be picked up from the big spaceship. Thanks for your attention.

  April 15, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  Were all the people on Earth looking up at the skies now? Judith couldn’t even imagine what the skies or land would look like after being covered by the shell for so long. Wayne had just informed the Earth’s population with Morse code that they had started the antiproton bombardment. Judith had intentionally not called a meeting. Kenjiro had assured her that there probably wouldn’t be anything to see for the first few days. The crew seemed to be unsettled, anyway.

  “Can I talk to you real quick?” asked Atiya, who was floating over to her.

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve been watching the area over the South Pole for energy emissions, as Kenjiro suggested.”

  “That’s good. Find anything?”

  “The area immediately around the magnetic pole is radiating more brightly than before.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that more radiation is reaching us from there than what was sent there by the sun. In a manner of speaking, the area is lighting up.”

  “Is it the reactions of the antiprotons with the shell?”

  “All I see is light reaching us from this direction. I can’t say whether it’s coming directly from the shell or if it is being created just above the shell.”

  “So, it’s also possible that this doesn’t have anything at all to do with the shell?”

  “Yes, Judith. It’s possible all the antiprotons have already been annihilated.”

  “So, when will we know for sure that this has been successful?”

  “When the first hole is created.”

  “Which we’d have to detect as tiny, black specks on the shell. Or maybe not.”

  “Don’t worry. If we’re able to make a hole, we’ll know because then all the radio transmissions from Earth will begin to reach us again.”

  “So, all we have to hope is that civilization hasn’t broken down so much that they can only communicate with smoke signals anymore.”

  “I think smoke signals would be rather inefficient in the darkness,” Atiya said. “If it’s gotten that bad, they’d probably be using bonfires for signals.”

  “You’re probably right about that, too.”

  The idea that humankind might have regressed to such a primitive level so quickly made her shiver. Judith adjusted the heating system to a higher setting.

  April 22, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  “So, how’s your big idea going now?”

  Michael again. Jonathan was annoyed. For days, Michael would stay out of sight, holed up in a cabin and blocking anyone else from using it. And then, when he did come out, it was only to whine and complain.

  “It’s going fine,” Yue said.

  She spoke as gently as ever, but it made no difference to Michael. “Obviously, it’s not,” he argued. “We’ve been bombarding the shell for a whole week now, and nothing’s happened.”

  “Kenjiro said—” Yue tried to continue, but Michael cut her off immediately, mocking her words.

  “—Kenjiro said, Kenjiro said. Is he now our personal physics god?”

  Jonathan put down his utensils. He should defend Yue against this idiot. Should he offer to talk to him or kick his ass?

  “At least he’s not an asshole like you,” Wayne interjected, relieving Jonathan from speaking up first. “And if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll seriously shut it for you.”

  “Shut your mouth, shut your mouth,” Michael repeated in a sing-song voice.

  He doesn’t know when to stop, Jonathan observed.

  Wayne stood up.

  “Okay, okay, calm down. Look, I’ll be quiet,” Michael said, whispering. He pushed his plate forward, threw his utensils onto it, and left the command center.

  The ARES was currently accelerating in order to put some distance between itself and Earth—a precautionary measure that Giordano had proposed. Maybe the shell had some kind of consciousness and would try to defend itself. A little bit of distance couldn’t hurt anything.

  Jonathan looked at the clock. He was still off duty, but his shift would start in an hour. Before that he’d have to say goodnight to Yue. It was almost her scheduled sleeping time. Maybe she’d have some interest in letting herself be seduced by him. He smiled, lost in thought.

  Then a crash of sound came surging out of the walls. Jonathan jumped up. He began to pick out voices in all sorts of different languages, all talking over each other simultaneously, classical music, strange whistling sounds, static noise all mixed up in one terrible cacophony. What was going on?

  Atiya came running into the command center. She had a wide grin on her face. She didn’t say anything, but ran over to the main computer and pressed a few buttons. “We’re through!” she yelled.

  “What? What do you mean, we’re through?” Jonathan asked. What’s going on? What was that terrible noise all about?

  “We’ve. Burned. A. Hole. In. The. Shell!” Atiya said very slowly, annunciating every single word very carefully.

  “What?” It couldn’t be. He must’ve misheard her.

  “I directed the radio antennas toward the pole, and so I wouldn’t miss anything, I connected their output to the loudspeaker. I’m sorry it was kind of loud. Of course, I turned the sensitivity all the way up.”

  Jonathan jumped toward her.

  Atiya instinctively retreated in surprise.

  He spread out his arms, and then she could tell what he had intended. “Thank you, Atiya. That was a fantastic idea!” he said, giving her a big hug.

  So much happened in the next few hours that later, he could only remember fragments of everything. Someone identifying herself as President Harris contacted them. Wasn’t a man the president of the United States when they had launched off the Earth? She thanked them for their heroic efforts and invited them to a reception as soon as possible. That’s a little premature, Jonathan thought.

  Then the voice of a Frenchman came through the speakers, a man who introduced himself as Alain Despert, the head of the EU Commission, and who also thanked them, with a slight accent, for their heroic actions. He also reported that an Ariane-7 rocket was standing by on a floating launch pad somewhere close to Antarctica, waiting to bring them fresh supplies.

  “Say, François, doesn’t ‘despert’ mean something like ‘hopeless’ in French, or am I not remembering my school lessons correctly?” Jonathan asked.

  “No, they only sound similar. But in Catalan it means ‘awake,’ François explained.

  Even the Chinese called. Yue had to talk with them, because the head of the Chinese National People’s Army didn’t speak English very well. They awarded the whole crew the highest distinction of their country—an honor that had never before been bestowed on a foreigner.

  They learned about the state of the Earth with the help of many different radio programs. Television had lost its importance as the leading news media, probably because its reception required at least five times more energy than radio. Energy had become the most valuable resource down below, followed by food.

  And then people themselves. Millions of workers were missing, because seven-eighths of the Earth’s population had died in the time since the shell had appeared. Seven billion people! Jonathan couldn’t imagine it. The number was so abstract! What had happened to all those bodies? If they had all died within a year instead of over a generation, then the cemeteries must be overwhelmed.

  Involuntarily he imagined piles of corpses or whole districts in cities turned into incinerators for producing heat and biogas for the living. He shook his head multiple times, but the images were stuck in his mind. There was only one thing he could do. He’d have to ask for specific names. What had happened to his parents and siblings? But the answer might be too terrible to hear. And wouldn’t it be selfish to demand to
be the first one to know about his loved ones? So, he didn’t dare ask the question yet.

  April 23, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  Judith’s armband vibrated, so she activated a voice channel.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve got someone here for you,” Yue announced.

  She was annoyed. After lying awake for two hours, she had just managed to fall asleep. “When I’m not on duty, Maxim is my deputy for official matters,” she said, somewhat more harshly than she intended.

  Immediately she was sorry for having snapped at Yue. She hadn’t deserved that.

  “The call is private, not official. And it’s coming over an encrypted channel. I didn’t even know that the ARES had anything like that.”

  “It was a feature intended for emergencies or particularly sensitive matters. A direct connection to our intelligence agencies.” But the fact that someone on Earth still knew about it after all these turbulent times was astounding to her. What did the intelligence community want from her?

  “I’ll patch them through,” Yue said.

  Judith identified herself. “This is Judith Rosenberg. Commander of the ARES.”

  The system checked the characteristics of her voice and only then established a secure connection.

  “My name is Alison David-Griffiths. I’m the director of the CIA, and I’m responsible for all this fucked-up shit down here.”

  Judith imagined a tall, skinny woman around 50 dressed in a pants suit, sitting at a large desk and smoking nervously, someone who hadn’t slept with a man for a long time and allowed herself to use colorful language as her only sin.

  “Well, you already know who I am, or you wouldn’t have called,” Judith answered. “What can I do for you?”

  “Ah, you’ve got it all backward,” the woman said. She laughed loudly. “I’m calling to find out if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “That’s very nice, but—”

  “—Ha, that’s good,” the CIA director interrupted her. “Of course, I’m not a very nice person. But, you know, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Right now, you’re our girl up there. We know there are Chinese and Russians on board. We must stay informed about these things.”

  “Well, there’s also a German, an Italian, a Japanese—”

  “—Yes, yes, I know. I’m less interested in them, but we don’t need to get into that today. I’d like to do something for you. Is there anything you need?”

  “World peace. Or no, how about turning back the clock about two years.”

  “Haha, you’re hilarious. We’re going to have lots of fun when the aliens arrive.”

  “The what?”

  “A dumb joke, I’ll admit. So, enough talking, how can I help you? The Europeans will get you medicines. I’m responsible for information.”

  Information, yes, that was something she wanted. But did she really want to know what had happened to Lisa and the kids? The chance that they were still alive was very low. But the others... Maybe the others would want to know what had happened to their loved ones?

  “I do have one idea,” Judith said. “Most of the crew here have relatives on Earth. I’m sure you have that information in your computer. None of us is likely to have a high enough security clearance for that information, especially Maxim or Yue. It’d be great if you could let us know what has happened to our family members.”

  “No problem, I will find that out. We have excellent relations with the Europeans, but it might take some time to get any information from the Chinese or Russians.”

  “Understood. As far as I know, Yue Gao doesn’t have any family on Earth. She grew up as an orphan in a state-run foster home, so there’s no need for you to ask the Chinese.”

  “You know, you find out the most interesting things from the Chinese, and all I have to do is make a phone call. Someone else does all the work.”

  “Well, good luck then. Oh, one more thing. I’m not sure everyone here will want to know all the details of everything you dig up, so please send anything you find out to me in an encrypted file.”

  “I’ll do that, JR. That’s what people call you, right?”

  “Only those who can’t stand me.”

  “Okay, sorry about that then. I’ll be in touch.”

  April 27, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  Kenjiro repositioned the image on the screen. It was a photograph that NOAA, the American weather service, had sent him. It showed the area of the shell above Antarctica in the direction along an imaginary line extending the Earth’s axis. A new constellation could be seen there, which could have been named something like ‘The Snake’ if it were a real, permanent constellation. Five stars appeared to be arranged in an arc of 120 degrees and offset from the axis by about 9.6 degrees.

  Of course, they weren’t really stars. They were holes in the shell, torn open by the antiprotons that continued to bombard the magnetic pole moving about the Earth’s axis as the Earth rotated. It was as if someone were using a toothed wheel cutter to cut apart the shell. The hand of God, or some kind of higher power, was simply holding the cutter against the shell, while the Earth did the actual work itself, moving under the cutter’s teeth.

  Today there were five holes. They shined brightly in all directions, because the sunlight refracted at the edges of the holes. Tomorrow there might be seven or maybe even eleven. An exact prediction was impossible. As the process continued, the constellation would disappear. It would make way for a phenomenon that people had never seen before and that they’d never see again—a stable tracing of light, a curved arc illuminating the world from above Antarctica.

  At some point, the extending arc would close and form a complete circle. That would be a sight that few would get the chance to see, because it would last for only a few milliseconds. The part of the shell within the circle would then have nothing holding it in place, and it would fly away like an umbrella let go by a child on a carousel.

  Should they be worried? Maybe yes, maybe no. He himself would almost certainly continue to worry, but that was something he always did. For instance, if the shell turned out to be massive, rugged, and self-supporting, it might wipe out everything that got in its way. But they didn’t know its properties. It was impossible to measure them in advance.

  He thought and thought, but he couldn’t come up with any solutions. Maybe the piece of shell that would be flung off would be no more dangerous than spiderlings on silken threads riding the wind across fields in late summer. They knew the shell’s material, after all, was only a few layers of atoms thick and thus thinner than even a spider’s silk.

  Maybe it would be enough to hold out a long stick, and the piece of shell would wrap itself around the stick if they put it in its path. That might be useful, because then they’d gain an ample supply of material that doesn’t show up anywhere in the terrestrial periodic table. The Earth’s intelligence agencies and military services would be quite interested in getting their hands on something like that.

  But maybe he was thinking so intently about the shell because he was only trying to avoid thinking about the most crucial question of all. What had happened to his daughter? Would he still be able to keep the promise he made to her, that he would return to Earth so he could be there for her first day of school?

  April 30, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  After breakfast, an encrypted file showed up in Judith’s inbox. There was no message with the file and nothing at all about its contents. But it was clear to Judith that Alison was the only one who could have sent it to her. She wanted to click on it and open it, but then she hesitated.

  She’d made a fucked-up, shitty mistake, as the CIA director might’ve said. If she opened the file, then she’d know everything. Not only what had happened to her crew’s loved ones, but Lisa’s fate would also be revealed. Shit. Why hadn’t she requested that each person receive only the information relevant to him or her? She also now couldn’t ignore the file and deny the others what they were entitled to know.
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  Judith started shaking. Her whole body cramped up, making her feel like throwing up. Yue looked at her strangely as she rushed by her on the way to the toilet.

  Then she was back again. With determined and unhesitating movements, she opened the file and the computer automatically decrypted it. She was greeted with a few short sentences. Phew. There was nothing about Lisa. She let out a long sigh of relief.

  I thought it would be best to separate the data sets into different files. Then each member of your crew can decide what he or she wants to know. You owe me, Judith, but you already know that.

  Yours respectfully, Alison.

  Yes, respectfully mine, Alison. She thought about the foul-mouthed CIA director. Maybe she wasn’t skinny or tall. It was time to let the others decide about their truth. She’d bring them to her cabin individually.

  May 1, 2036 – Mars Ship ARES

  The ARES was moving away from the Earth again, because Kenjiro had warned them of the possible risks of what might happen when the antiprotons finished cutting out the piece of the shell above the pole. There was a strange mood in the command center today. They had all learned some truth yesterday, either about their family or about themselves. Jonathan had decided not to read the information from the intelligence file. He had even asked Judith to delete his file. Surprisingly, he now felt free and relaxed despite—or maybe because of—his decision.

  On Earth, word had gotten around concerning contact with the moon base’s crews, and that the ARES had been restored. If his family was still alive, they would contact him. If he never heard anything from them, he could at least still imagine that they were leading a happy life somewhere. However, the CIA file might contain other information that he didn’t think he could ever come to terms with, details on a loved one’s gruesome death. He’d already heard plenty of stories like that from radio transmissions.