by James Lay
Chapter 6
“You know Pat, now having the navigational knowledge makes our 11,106,500 billion light years not too far after all.” Carl mused.
“Further than I want to ride to work.” Was the helpful reply he received, no help at all.
“It doesn't sound too far but I've been thinking about it. One slight deviation over that distance and you could start a straight curve away and end up back here. You know bloody well you could.”
He was only too accurate. It was a set of facts that Carl had been hiding from himself, with the idea if he didn't accept them then they wouldn't exist. That's not the real world though, is it?
“Don't fret Carl, we'll give it our best shot. We'll have our waypoints and will be able to use that as our reference, and angle towards where we think we want to go.” said Pat.
“Where's that?” Carl blurted, in hope.
“No idea.”
The music played on.
“Did you both have a restful night?” Came George’s voice.
“Bloody great, another good breakfast as well, what's happening George.” Asked Pat.
“I have your force shield and EVA modules, would you like to accept them?” George enquired.
“Great idea,” Carl jumped up, hardly able to contain himself. This was a material advance, not just light and sound,” where are they George?”
“One moment please Carl. The accepting of these units is quite a traumatic experience. Would you care for me to expand on what is involved?” Asked George.
“I thought it was just strapping on the units,” Carl replied,” what’s difficult about that?”
“Well firstly I did say the units had to be coded to you. Perhaps I misled you into thinking this involved punching in a set of numbers, it is nothing of the sort.” Answered George.
“Well let's have the procedure George, you're walking around the subject. Get on with it.” Came Pat's dulcet tones.
“Very well. The coding is the method the unit has for recognising you, forever. It requires that it grows into you. Part of it will pass into you, like the roots of a plant growing in the soil.” George explained.
“Holy mother, do you mean it's going to put roots in my wrist?” Came a worried Pat.
“That is the start.” George said, hesitantly.
“George, will you get it over with, telling us won't kill us.” Said Carl.
“You are right Carl, get on with it.” Another pause from George.” It requires the unit to pass a filament through every single nerve in your body. It has to be able to sense everything you sense to be able to protect you. It needs to know what you are touching, pain, starvation of chemicals, nutrients, oxygen and poisoning by the same media. Sight and sound, taste, smell, all your normal nervous receptions. Do I make myself clear?”
They were, after all, in a bit of a shocked state. The idea of something growing in them like that made them squirm.
“It's going to take over our minds, is that it?” Carl asked.
“Oh no, nothing of the sort. It wants to know what is happening to you. You will be better off with the module. It is like having a doctor and the chemist in your body.”
“I'll do it begorra, where is it?” Said Pat.” We've got to have the bugger or we could get the chop from something or other.”
“Exactly put Pat, you have it.” That was George.
“What does it feel like George?” Carl asked.
“My records report it is like a warmth spreading all over your body and then a very small itch, which cannot be scratched, but only for two or three minutes. I of course cannot give you the experience, I am not like you.”
“Ok George, in the hatch?” Carl asked again.
“You will find them there. Decide which wrist you want it on, I would suggest it replaces your Casio. Think of it as a watch, it will have your typical watch readout. Simply place it on your wrist, about the correct spot, you can adjust it later. It is rather messy but will turn into a watch lookalike within one or two minutes, it will not fall off after ten seconds.”
The hatch opened when George stopped.
There were two dishes with what looked like an oyster in the middle of each.
“Right,” said Pat, gritting his teeth,” here goes.”
He lifted the 'oyster,' and placed it on his left wrist, watch position, and held it in place.
“Oh dear, it's got a grip.” He said, and took his hand away.
George spoke up.” It might be an idea to sit down now, the process will begin in about a minute.
Pat sat down.
Carl's oyster was now where his Casio had been. It was cool and smooth and he felt a bit of a fool being worried about it. How the hell could this thing be a force field generator. Then it began. He was seated. Pat had his head on the back of the couch.
It felt like a mosquito landing, so faint. It spread. Carl moved his wrist, then felt he might inflict it harm.
“Do not worry, it is not possible to harm it in any way, you are now well past the point of no return.” Offered George.
The 'warmth' was moving up Carl's arm and was up the back of his neck. He had goose bumps everywhere.
“This is like being stroked with a feather duster in Manila,” laughed Pat,” I'm goin to survive mother, don't worry, bugger it itches.”
Carl was spellbound. The 'oyster' was turning black. Casio shaped, it thickened a bit and then slimmed out and suddenly the screen was there with the Casio watch display. He checked the time and it was exactly the same. John Cleese came to mind,” Oh Joy”, and even the same knobs.
“It's over,” said Pat,” I don't itch, is that it George, what now?”
“You can leave it on or take it off.” Came George’s reply.
Pat took it off, there was only a slight pinkness on the wrist. Carls' was off and the pinkness was going, to leave an all over tan to match his forearm and hand.
Replacing the module was unusual, there was a gripping sensation but not glue-like.
“You're sure it won't come off George.” Carl queried.
“See if you can remove Carl's module Pat.” Suggested George.
Pat had a go, he even pulled hard, the unusual thing was that no matter how hard he pulled, Carl’s wrist stayed exactly where it was.
“You're bloody strong today Carl.” Commented Pat.
“It's not me, it's the module, I'm doing nothing.”
“Bloody hell,” said Pat,” give mine a pull, don't hurt it though.”
Carl laughed and pulled with all his might. Pat didn't move.
“It's switched on then, hey George, how come we received no instructions about this. How's it turned on?” asked Pat.
“It is always on Pat, even when it's removed from your arm, that is why it cannot be used by anyone else. They cannot move it.”
“So that's it, is it George?” Carl asked.
“Yes, please collect the EVA and plug it in. That codes the modules.” said George.
The EVA’s were in the hatch; they plugged in and fitted neatly over the forearm. Together the two units measured one and a half inches by one inch and less than an eighth of an inch thick. They looked like one unit. Beautiful.
“We are fully protected right now, correct George?” Carl asked.
“Quite correct and the Hyperjump is active so follow your instructions.”
Carl put his on coded standby and decided to leave it on his arm. It looked very smart.
“I feel like Superman now,” said Pat,” but funnily enough I don't need to test it. I know it works, how it works, and how to work it. It's as if I've owned it all my life, it's just new to look at and that’s all. Same for you Carl?”
“Just the same, bit of a letdown really, not like a new car. I don't have the insatiable urge to drive it, I know everything it does already. Good fit, thanks George.” He called.
“Standard issue Carl, same as shoes or food.” He said.
“I've got to try somethin George.” Pat called.
“Yes Pat.”
“How can I test the force field now?”
“Just run at the wall as fast as you can. It won't hurt, and don't try to stop yourself.” George suggested.
Pat turned and ran the full ten metres, at his maximum speed, into the wall. He just stopped.
“Bugger me, didn't feel a thing. Didn't even feel the stop.” Said a baffled Pat.
“You have just experienced your own personal zero mass conversion,” explained George,” that's why you didn't feel yourself stop. Happy?”
“This is unbelievable, I didn't feel a thing Carl, give it a go.”
So give-it-a-go he did. It was impossible for Carl not to reflexively put a hand out but he knew he was travelling too fast for his hand to have had any effect. He was then an inch away from the wall, stopped and just moving back, no sense of stopping at all. A strange experience.
“I've never known anything like that before,” he said,” I'm sold on it. I fancy a beer.”
“Celebrate a step forward.” Agreed Pat.
“Gentlemen,” started George,” before you have your beer, please look up at the dome, we are going to experience a meteorite strike. I will indicate the position of the strike. The meteorite weighs nearly one kilo and is travelling at 582,000 miles an hour.”
A portion of the dome went opaque and then clear.
“Three, two, one, strike.”
There was a flash and a radiating spider-web of energy lines and then it was over, back to clear.
“That was a powerful strike and, as you experienced, no damage,” said George,” would you like me to call when there are more?”
“I'm definitely havin my beer now,” and Pat pulled out a half litre of their beer and took a healthy swig,” here’s to science, and no more strikes George.”
“I'll drink to that.” Carl agreed. With the success and acceptance of the modules he felt in much higher spirits. There was very little time now before they would be able to make the attempt to find their home planet. His worries over their safety were beginning to seem groundless, what with the virtual impregnability of the ship plus their own personal shields. He was still amazed at the compactness of the units but George had elaborated on the subject a little more and it was very interesting. It would appear that the filament growth into their bodies completed the build of the modules and was not simply a case of coding. They were now an integral part of the modules, the modules could not operate without them. It was, in fact, the body and mind that activated the protection, drive and power of the units, or modules.
To be a part of a machine, or even the machine itself is a hard one to grasp but Carl was becoming more and more aware - part of the system - which was him anyway, as the days went by. His own confusion about the whole subject was fading into the dark recesses of the 'forget' part of his mind. He was now part modules and himself, rather an unusual philosophy and one a psychologist could have a field day over. Also his control over the personal jump unit was improving. Having said that, it is not to say he had used it, but had placed the information into the 'action tray' and was now in a mental position to know he could instinctively use the system any time he decided. It was like not being able to drive a car but to learn to be an advanced driver, in practice, without going near a car or reading the instructions. George called it the acceptance period of their minds, the overload of information they had received had now filtered through to the front of their conscious thought. To be completely immodest about it, they knew it all.
Pat and Carl had spoken at length about the instruction and Pat had found the same processes taking place.
“I'll never be the same again and I'm never letting this shield and jump unit leave me. It's staying on and I mean for ever.” Pat was very definite about that but Carl had to admit he had the same thoughts. He really couldn't see the point of taking them off. George confirmed that this was the accepted attitude, he admitted that he hadn't known how they would react to the feelings they would get when they coded in. Carl was pleased it was the norm, he would have hated to be thought of as being a greedy boy.
“Pat,” called Carl,” how about a visit to the hanger to see what's going on?”
“Ok, I'm a bit stiff from all this activity,” he joked,” do us good to stretch our legs.”
So they wandered off, picking the right hanger deck this time, that previous time with the ship on the ceiling, or them on the ceiling, still brought back a queasy feeling. So disorientating.
The ship was a hive of activity, mice crowding around the structure. Many of the frames were now covered with the dark metal-like material.
“They're putting it back together,” said a quite excited Pat,” I must get a look at those skin joints forming but how in hell do we get up to that height from here?”
As is by magic, Pat rose from the floor. Carl saw that he was being lifted by two mice, and Carl was going up as well. Only when they were on the top of the ship did they speak.
“That was not nice,” came Pat's faltering voice,” I thought I was going to tip over. They had me under me feet, the little buggers”.
“Hey,” Carl nudged him,” this looks like a skin going on.” It was, about two meters long and one wide and about twenty millimetres thick.
“Looks like metal to me,” as Pat got on his knees for a close look,” get away you bleeder.”
One of the mice was obviously shunting Pat back, with little pushing motions. It was effective. From two metres back they watched four mice lower the skin onto the exposed frames. Then a larger 'mouse' arrived and played a beam of, what looked like, ordinary light onto the skin.
“Look at that, look!” said Pat, pointing at the edge,” it's bloody moving about.”
The seam simply flowed and disappeared, leaving a smooth dull grey metal finish.
“Now I've seen it,” said Carl,” metal, or what feels like metal, flowing when stone cold. That's magic and no doubt.”
“Wonder why it's not black like the rest of the place.” Wondered Pat.
“It requires too much repair in normal and hyperspace.” Came the voice of George.
“I think I'll drop down here, inside, and have a look around,” Pat was pointing to an area where the skin was missing,” coming?”
They dropped in, noting the 'no-feeling' as they hit the floor, their shields absorbing even that meagre impact.
“Hey look here Pat.” Carl pointed. It was the pilot’s console, in the usual hover, ready to be installed.” Notice anything missing?”
“Sure I can, no wires,” answered Pat,” how's the power get to it and away?”
“I note your meaning of wires gentlemen,” it was the ever-present presence of George,” we do not use wires anywhere in our systems.” He informed them.
“How does the power travel?” Carl asked.
“Every piece of equipment joins itself to the common structure, power flows, as does the information, wherever it is needed. It is free to flow anywhere and does just that.”
“You are not using straight electrical power then?” Inquired Pat.
“No the power is similar to the ships propulsive force. A modulated form of energy that is useable for any purpose, once it is converted to the system frequency. It then sits in the structure and is taken by any unit that needs that information or power.”
“Is it electrical?” Asked Carl.
“I suppose it is in a sense, but, and here I am at a loss to explain. Can you conceive electricity without a positive and negative flow? If you can then that is about as close as you will come to this power source.” George explained.
“Where does the power come from?” asked Pat.
“We are now back at the test bench and the disappearing scientists, we don't know,....from the cosmos, from somewhere, we just turn on our receiver, for want of a better word, and power comes out of the speaker. What it is, is a mystery, it is termed Cosmic Pressure.” Said George.
“You are not just hiding it from us, are
you?” Carl asked.
“Definitely not, we really don't know.”
“Oh well, thanks anyway George.”
“My pleasure.”
They found it fascinating. They stayed all day and watched enthralled, as panels and consoles 'flowed' into place. The black finish was, in fact, a 'construct', like a holograph only hard. George took away the black and there was silver metal with a mesh finish to it. The mesh 'constructed' the black, it did it whilst they watched. That's how the black could radiate light, simple really, well simple to think about it, maybe not simple to make happen, bloody impossible as far as Carl was concerned.
They both had a close look at a 'mouse' and it appeared to have a close look at them. It was even like a mouse, a big mouse, half a metre long, ten centimetres in diameter, four legs, building and lifting arms, and two holes where the eyes should be, gas sensors, even had two whiskers, code givers and takers, gentle little things. They also hovered wherever they wanted to go and this one was always pushing Pat out of the way. Carl thought it was there specifically to keep them out of the way because he never saw it do any recognisable work. It sure followed Pat very close and Pat tried to kick it once and found his foot gently pushed back. Pat's face was a picture, how to be put in your place by a tin can. He was, about twenty times that day.
“I've had it for the day, back upstairs?” Said Pat.
“Agreed.”