“Not quite,” said Zara, “Boniface just needs to compile our emotional profiles, and then we are fully fledged disciples of the faith.”
This session was short and only administered to Pierze, who believed Zara was to be next. The deception was complete as Zara entered and appeared to be ready for Boniface, when he handed Pierze one of the latest think-phones. “You said how much you liked these gadgets, and this is our top of the range model. It’s already set up and it’s yours. I hope you’ll find it useful during our Rescue 2045 campaign.” The mischievous glint in Pierze’s eyes confirmed that he would become a true convert.
As Ricardo Pierze left to see how things were progressing with the Duarte family, he received a call on his new toy. The ringtone flicked a mental switch and he then felt at ease with the voice of the Truth and its reinforcement of his new feeling of belonging. He was no longer suffering from schizophrenia.
Chapter 20
The news from the hospital was mildly encouraging. After only a few days of exposure to the pulses, Emile was showing sporadic signs of twitching in his right hand. Lopez suggested they should now change the stimulus from a wake up prod, to one of participation in exercise, such as playing his favourite game. It was good for Pierze to see Maxi and Maria in a positive frame of mind again. The cautious optimism had even captured the interest of the purveyors of the original diagnosis. It was Maria who hugged Pierze; Maxi merely tipped his now infamous pork-pie hat in a gesture of appreciation and affection. Twice in one day – the feeling of belonging was extremely pleasurable.
*
When he teamed up with Zara again the strategy was aired. Zara didn’t see the selection process as a problem. “It is my fervent hope that this will demonstrate the power of the Truth. It’s important, as you have said, for us to get a broad assessment of the demographic implications of the doomsday scenario. By tackling this first I believe we can set the tone for all other outcomes. The simple truth in this respect is the same as the Truth. Why do I say that? Because I believe that surviving the full impact of the comet, may be a fate worse than being extinguished in a millisecond. The honest portrayal of the conditions in which we would have to cope won’t be too appealing, there could be years of the hunter-gatherer existence, only to succumb to a lingering, painful death. In addition, without the umbilical support of mother Earth, any volunteers for the Moon and Mars will find it equally difficult to prevail. It would be different if we had long established colonies there. So if we present this worst case scenario first and responsibly ask the populous to decide whether they prefer survival in advance, we may find there are more who will opt to accept the alternative. I see more difficulties arising if we have partial success in minimising the impact damage. If we are able to avoid an impact altogether it will be almost impossible to curb the future colonisation of other worlds. The human race is genetically programmed to care for their unborn descendants. This brings me back to my first prediction – they may not want to leave a legacy of agony and radiation deformity for those few of the unborn species, who will know nothing but suffering from cradle to grave. Of course I could be totally wrong. Do you agree it would be helpful to find out?”
This was an interesting pivot in the relationship of the two former enemies. If Pierze disagreed then Zara could wipe away such sentiment by a single ringtone. That was not what he wanted. His own feat of clambering out of the quicksand of schizophrenia was unassisted, and was thus also desired for his ‘friend’. At least they could now announce the comprehensive headline plan of Rescue 2045, with the pledge to keep the consultative process at the forefront. The first seeds of the selection process were to be aired in the coming months.
*
The two-man Phobos crew had been selected and completed their training, and their craft was ready to go. The owners of SACRED had haggled a little and eventually accepted the Iberian government offer. Zara reflected on how things had changed since the prison breakout. Apart from his new appearance and flourishing Cerberus business group, he had masterminded the think-phone control interface and recently imported Pierze into it. Now, via the Iberian acquisition and Pierze’s position, he effectively had one hand on the rudder of Earth’s destiny. However, because of his almost primal relationship with Alexei Stepanov, he no longer felt any motivation to abuse this fountain of power. Quite the opposite in fact, and it was underpinned by what he would have previously considered the most unlikely element of all – faith. He did still enjoy the inner feeling of a paternalistic global benefactor. It was therefore disturbing that he could hardly wait for 2045.
Having completed the launch and settled into their long journey David Ortiz and Michaela Cordone would also end up in the list of potential history-changing celebrities, or simply never return. Meanwhile the code-breaking effort continued to dredge up snippets of information. Most of these were to do with the apparent orbital alteration of Phobos, and as yet they remained imprecise in terms of comprehending the interlinking of the calculations. One important piece of data was however, crystal clear. It was also extremely helpful in warding off more paranoia over the sinister claims against the object and its designers. Having probed continuously for more interactive panels or buttons, they had eventually found confirmation that the object itself and the ‘silo’ on Phobos were connected only by one-way signals which would terminate if and when all data in the object had been viewed. This implied that there may be much more to discover, but critically that any control mechanism for whatever was on Phobos, would have to be activated from there. This calming information did have a price. When the comet cleared the Kuiper belt, there would have to be someone on or near Phobos to ‘engage the solution’. The responsibility of such a burden or destiny could and would probably attract many volunteers. It also affected the astronauts who had just departed. Instead of only one of them surfacing on the moon and leaving final interpretation of the footage to the code breakers, both of them would take turns to study the silo and add their individual input. It had suddenly become too important to rely upon transmitted images alone. The crew hoped this would be the most exciting change they would have to consider as they had only just warmed their seats. Michaela Cordone was nominally commanding the craft but she had just been made to feel the stealthy hand of remote control. “David, do you still want to surface first, while we have the authority to decide? I wouldn’t be surprised if there is another change by the time we get to the Moon.”
Both of them were of the opinion that there hadn’t been enough simulation of two people being cooped up in such a confined space for nine months. With just one more person it would have been easier. Although it would still not have been possible to find solitude, the differences between the other two crew members would provide distraction. The powers that be knew better, or so they believed.
*
Zara made sure via the ringtone connection that Pierze was fully on-board with the emphasis he had previously outlined, to address the world on some of the timescales leading up to Rescue 2045. The representative from Orient had seen and approved Zara’s proposal to tackle the selection issue early, as he maintained their society was cohesive enough to handle the possible decision to die rather than face a ‘future with no acceptable future’. Zara had one more personality to introduce to the global stage. Boris Krasnic was nearing the final stages of his radiation-induced hell, and he wanted to add the weight of his perspective, to give the audience a feeling of what the choice of survival may bring. The various polls from around the globe indicated a muted, but general acceptance of the proposals. They were considered to be thorough and open. The last thing they wanted was to be told ‘everything was going to be alright, just trust us’. They were promised periodical updates. There was considerable introspection following the utter humility of the final speaker. Boris Krasnic wasn’t comfortable with public speaking, and this added to the authenticity of his message. “I am about to die. I don’t know precisely when but it will be long before 2045. If I only had my
self to consider, it would be today. I watched my dear friend Alexei Stepanov suffer an agonising end to his life from the same radiation sickness we inherited from Tunguska. He only had peace during the last few days when it didn’t really matter if the morphine dosage was too high. However, I have my family to think of, and somehow they can’t bear to see me beg for assisted termination. I believe that will change in the coming weeks as my time is shortening rapidly now. Conditioning oneself to this departure from family is the most difficult aspect for me, but I can truthfully say that if I was going to be here in 2045, I would recommend we all face what was coming together, as I would not wish my condition on my worst enemy.” There was a last minute but fitting decision by the producer of the broadcast to delay the planned commercial break, and allow a prolonged silent contemplation. Zara, Pierze and Pak Sung Do, the Oriental delegate, all instinctively stood as Krasnic refused assistance while shuffling his fragile frame off the set.
*
This short talk influenced a few individuals around the planet in another way. Rather than simply wait out the development of Rescue 2045, they decided to alter their lifestyle immediately. For most of them it was a more negotiable step than it would have been for urban inhabitants. One such pioneer was Bertil Nordsen. He was still following his family way of life – farming. He lived in Northern Swedish-Iberia. Not too far from his established way of life was a mountain range – Ahkka (or Lule Sami, meaning old woman) was a massif with eleven individual peaks. Bertil had known, from early childhood, of a remote cave in the highest one – Stortoppen, which had probably offered sanctuary to either Homo-Sapiens or Neanderthals, long ago. He decided to stake a claim to part of this ‘holiday home’ which was about one third of the way up the mountain. He wanted his family to get used to such a challenge, by learning foraging techniques while they could be supported by their existing produce. The family would tell nobody about this.
*
Emile Duarte had shown further hopeful signs. His eyelids were twitching regularly and both hands were moving periodically into a gripping mode. There was no response from his legs and he hadn’t fully opened his eyes, but the treatment had still been delicately controlled. They were seriously considering increasing the intensity.
*
Although both Manuel and Duarte were aware of Pierze’s withdrawal from Central Security and that he had secured their services for his successor, they had both declined extending their involvement. It was understandable that Duarte had more difficulty in giving time to the ‘hunt for Sidonia’, and his failure to notice behavioural changes in Ricardo. His eternal gratitude to the man he once despised prevailed above all else. Manuel however, could see his new preoccupation with Rescue 2045 virtually rendering his interest in Sidonia to zero. Not particularly wanting to work with the new incumbent, he decided to return to his agency in Londonis. He had noticed the change in character which had bypassed Duarte. Whenever he challenged Pierze about this, he could only elicit one reply. “I’m much happier being involved in a positive environment. Central Security was becoming an increasingly difficult orbit, in which one’s sanity could not be guaranteed. Everything ends up as minimising negativity. I needed the change more than I realised.”
“What about Sidonia?” Pierze shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t seem to be so relevant since the Tunguska discovery Manuel. They, if they are hatching some new plot, must have been affected by this, just like the rest of us. Maybe they see how futile their desire to control humanity really is, when humans may not be able to control a wandering block of celestial ice and rock. You have a lot of living to do before we find that out for certain. I’m sure Elle would say the same to you, perhaps she already has?” Manuel was slightly uncomfortable with his new, easy-going friend. His persona seemed diminished despite the protest about fulfillment. It was almost as if he was on drugs or medication, and it had got out of control.
“Ok Ricardo, I’ll take your advice and pass on your regards to Elle. We will stay in touch.”
End Game Three
The Lights of Hope
Ortiz was desperate to get on with the task of ‘walking on the moon’. He and Michaela Cordone had managed to stay in control of their inability to relate to one another’s little foibles. At least this was the case for the first half of the journey. The imminent danger as they approached Phobos was a welcome relief to the physical and mental confinement of the past months. With only a tiny space to perform the prescribed calisthenics their bodies were already showing clear signs of muscular degeneration. The dancing lights were getting closer and the pattern of this display was embedded in their cerebra, in the same way as the harmonics of a favourite song would be.
There was barely room to turn around in the tiny airlock let alone change into the suit and arm oneself with the primed thrusters. Cordone was initialising the mechanics of attitude adjustment to match the computed instruction. It took several attempts to reach the point at which the display eventually flashed ‘locked-on’. By now they could appreciate the size of the circular surface of the silo. It was much bigger in visual than anticipated, even though the observatories’ pictures should have prepared them. The camera was the final acquisition for Ortiz before the airlock was activated. It was fitted to his helmet and he had a small wrist screen to see what he was actually transmitting. His pulse raced compared to even the most strenuous exercise during the flight, and he felt ‘heart flutters’ as he engaged the thrusters. His umbilical was secured to the innermost wall of the airlock, but there was no other way to test the computer’s readout that they were close enough to the silo to reach it without running out of this lifeline. Despite many simulations back in training he didn’t manage to avoid tumbling, but he had under-thrusted, so that he would be able to correct this disorienting method of locomotion. Cordone was actually more nervous than he was. The thought of something going wrong and having to investigate herself, with nobody in the vessel, was not embraced easily. After two corrective thrusts Ortiz confirmed to Cordone that he had more than enough umbilical. She could see the display at the same time as he did.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell is in there. It certainly isn’t a missile as we would recognise one. David can you see the inside from your wrist screen? I have a perfect view but I would like your assessment before the short delay to Earth is consumed and we have to follow instructions.” His reply was confirmatory.
“I can see inside and a long way down too. I am not able to get much detail on what looks like a pad inside the clear, protective surface dome. Is that what has got your attention?”
“Yes, that has symbols on it just like the ones on the object in Moscow. On my high resolution screen I can also see diagrams which almost certainly relate to these symbols, but actually tell their own story. Why don’t you satisfy yourself that you have missed nothing within your eye-range rather than the tiny wrist camera, and then return? I’ll take over and you can see if I’m overstating what seems to be obvious.”
They agreed to let any incoming questions from Earth wait until Ortiz had seen the large images from the cockpit. He was getting restless because it took Cordone a lot longer to get into position. When she eventually did she heard what she had hoped she would.
“From the diagrams alone it can only be a gigantic propulsion device. We are looking directly into the outlet or exhaust chambers. God knows what kind of drive this is, but presumably they calculated what would be necessary to move this entire moon against the gravitational pull of Mars.”
“That is exactly what I saw too. There doesn’t seem to be any means of opening the dome. Can you see something I can’t?”
Ortiz scanned around the perimeter. “No, maybe it doesn’t need to be opened.”
She was not convinced. “That’s why I wanted you to see it from there. I recall that the code breakers concluded that something would have to be activated from here when the time comes, but what? I think we had better swa
p positions again while I get to their questions.”
She needn’t have been overly concerned. The eyes back on Earth had also concluded that this device was the means of shifting the orbit of Phobos implied in earlier decoding. They had wrongly assumed at that time that it would have employed explosive weaponry, whether out-and-back missile, or residence-based. The calculations were already underway to determine precisely what magnitude of thrust would be required to achieve this feat. They wanted steadier, closer pictures of the symbols sent back so they could fit them into their crunching algorithms. They were also puzzled at present about the lack of any opening mechanism for the dome, as nobody could envisage a propulsion system which would operate in a totally closed space, unless there was some type of ingenious energy recycling facility within the housing. It seemed feasible, as the Moscow object was, although not fully understood, also propelled by a drive where the exhaust was apparently completely contained by lead shielding. It was the difference in scale which was confusing. Cordone duly asked Ortiz to get to the optimum position to see the symbols so she could send the improved images directly to the code breakers.
*
Maxi and Maria Duarte were almost in sleep-mode, when suddenly several new lights danced on Emile’s monitoring system. They sought Lopez and the consultant surgeon from the hospital cafeteria in panic. When the two dashed back they took in the visual changes and then embraced each other. Lopez spoke to Maxi and Maria. “Sorry, we were lost for a moment in taking in the good news. There is increased brain activity of significance. We both believe that Emile will now recover consciousness. This is still a prognosis and not an assurance, but we are both extremely hopeful.”
The emotional shock for both parents was almost as acute as the first news of his accident. They decided as a group that there would always be someone at his bedside as Emile would need recognition criteria as soon as he resurfaced. Duarte called Pierze and told him of the news.
“I’ll be there right away Maxi; that is if it’s acceptable to you and Maria.” It was more than acceptable.