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All Rights Reserved © 2019, Rick Haydn Horst
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The college’s dining hall, at the center of campus, held the honor of the most adorned of all the Art Nouveau buildings. The fairytale-esque doorways, columns, vaulted ceiling with exposed beams, and figural statuary, complemented the extraordinary stone floor displaying an intricate mosaic. The stone tables, carved with whimsy, appeared as massive mushrooms, placed in circular formations to form concentric fairy rings. Aiden sat next to Laurel and left two cushy toadstool seats across the table for us.
Laurel spoke up, “We have disappointing news.”
“But also, some encouraging news,” said Aiden, “and then some terrible news.”
“I figured you would,” said David. “What’s the disappointing news?”
“You were right, the other portal doesn’t phase out,” said Aiden. “Unlike on Earth, a satellite here can scan the whole planet in just a few hours searching for the localized field the portal produces. With Amaré’s agreement, we had one do that, and it found nothing.”
“What’s the encouraging news?” I asked.
“A large crew of engineers and Trust members, including Cadmar, Magnar, Tamika, and Gabe, along with a few bots, work to get the carrier up again,” said Aiden.
“I think ‘struggle to get the carrier up again’ is a more appropriate phrase,” said David.
“And Gabe too?” I asked. “That’s interesting. So, what’s the carrier?”
“It’s an old hover ship we used to carry stone and other minerals from various areas,” said Laurel. “It’s the one ship we have large enough to take a couple of thewsbots to dig out the portal, get to the bodies, and carry it all back. Once we find it, of course.”
“They would have better luck building a ship from scratch,” said David.
“I haven’t seen it,” said Aiden, “is it that bad?”
“Yes,” said David and Laurel.
“How can Jiyū not have an entire fleet of amazing craft at the ready?” I asked David.
“On Jiyū, necessity is the mother of an endeavor,” said David. “We haven’t needed such things, and we build things because we need them. We would waste resources to build something because we can.”
“I wouldn’t consider it wasteful as much as an expression of prudent vigilance,” I said. “At this point, I think someone should consider building at least a single new ship, but I would recommend more. Who does that here?”
“Laren College does most of our design work,” said Laurel. “They would jump at the opportunity.”
David took a deep breath. “Okay –may as well get this over– give me the terrible news.”
Aiden dug into a bag he carried with him and placed a fist-sized stone on the table. “I thought to pick up one of the stones from the portal in Japan for analysis. This one appeared to have the same composition as the larger stones and boulders, but the only thing here more common than this sample is dirt.”
David picked up the stone. “That’s a shame, Aiden. You did well to think of it.”
“That looks unusual,” I said, pointing to the side of the stone.
“The smooth side,” said Aiden, nodding. “Yes, I thought that too. I suppose that’s what drew my eye to it when I picked it up.”
“Let me see.” I took the stone from David to examine it closer. “It looks polished. It even shines in the light from the window.”
“I know that tone of voice,” said David. “You’re doing that thing you do.”
“What thing?” asked Laurel.
David motioned for them to wait while I thought about it.
“I think I know how it got this way.” I pointed to David and Aiden. “Do either of you remember in Japan, a high-pitched hum coming from the portal while it created the energy sphere?”
Aiden shook his head.
“I didn’t pay attention to the sounds,” said David.
I held up the stone. “I think the portal, on this side, cut the stone that sat on top of it. I would bet if you scanned this stone and analyzed the curvature of the smooth side, you would discover it matched the inside curvature of the portal’s sphere.” I set the stone in the middle of the table, smooth side up.
“Fascinating hypothesis,” said Aiden, “but it doesn’t help much.”
Laurel picked up the stone to study it. “Perhaps not, but it interests me,” she said. “Thank you, Rick; I will add this information to our Portalphiles database. I will have to label it as anecdotal, of course, but I will cite you as the origin.”
“Well, I have a question,” I said. “Why couldn’t you scan for the energy signatures given off by the portal itself? Shouldn’t the plasma inside it give off something?”
Laurel shook her head as she examined the stone. “It shields itself so long as the energy is down in the device,” she said, “so we can’t detect it from space while istanbul travesti the portal remains dormant.”
“The portal activated a few days ago, what about then?” I asked.
“We have 289 satellites in orbit,” she said, “not all the satellites there can detect such things, and of those that could, few of them face the planet.
“One thing I should mention,” she said, “you told us the debris might cover the portal here, and that debris covers the ground at the portal site in Japan. It doesn’t work unless the portal on Earth can reveal itself, and it won’t do so as long as something solid sits in the same space.”
“What happens if the Americans uncover the location in Japan?” I asked. “Will the portal send the debris from here to Earth?”
“It wouldn’t send debris alone,” said Laurel. “If they uncover the location on Earth, and bodies still lay atop the portal here, along with the debris, it will send them back.”
“You can’t send objects through unaccompanied?” asked David.
“No,” she said, “and I suspect that some other notions we hold as true about the portal are actually false. I will test them one day.”
“If someone goes through from here with no ring on the other side, what happens?” asked Aiden.
“The portals on Earth must reset themselves by phasing out,” she said. “Without the quantum chip in the ring, it gives you time to step off the portal, but if you don’t, you’ll find yourself laying on the ground where the portal stood as the stones did in Japan.”
“I see,” I said. “So, the portal works without the chip, but if it must phase out, you need the chip to make it reveal itself.”
“Where did the quantum chips come from?” asked Aiden.
“We duplicated the original,” David said.
“We found the original in a diamond,” said Laurel. “It sits in a protected case in the museum with the pylon.”
“Pylon?” I asked.
“The aliens made an obelisk-shaped stone about four feet high,” said Laurel. “The diamond came from the pylon; you would have to see it. The ancients found it on the Earth side just outside the portal’s localized field, or at least that’s what the writing at the archive we can read says. It sat in One City square for ages, but the cylindrical bell replaced it when the pylon went to the museum.”
“They found it on the Earth side,” said Aiden, “but for which portal?”
Laurel and David looked at one another.
“The one in Japan, maybe,” said Laurel.
“Our scholars will have to work that out,” said David.
“If the pylon came from Japan,” I said, “does this mean that one from the portal in London exists somewhere?”
We could almost bet on it, but none of us knew the answer. If so, it meant that Earth had another original quantum chipped diamond.
After eating and some further chat, it grew close to shadow-time when the sun recedes behind the mountain casting the shadow across the city. David and I returned to the penthouse to watch it. Aiden left for the temple to stay the night with Maggie, and Laurel asked Venn to transport her home.
We changed into something more comfortable and laid on the balcony’s couch. David wrapped his arms around me, and we discussed the anthromorph situation. Even in the middle of the mess in which we found ourselves, domestic matters still required our attention.
“I had the penthouse modeled after a traditional British gentleman’s club,” I said. “I think we need a male butler.”
“That sounds sexist and servile.”
“No. No, I just want to stick to the traditional theme for the sake of aesthetics. The anthromorph would still do what it does, and it would provide some of those basic parameters you spoke of.”
“Well, if you insist,” he said.
“I thought about the name Mason. I have always liked that name.”
“That would make a good name for -” David jerked his head toward the balcony wall. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“I thought I saw something.” We leapt from the couch and darted to the wall. In a few minutes, the sun would pass behind the mountain ridge, and we had a bit of glare to contend with.
“What did it look like?”
“A dark blur sped by, not lightning-fast, but quick.”
“I suppose we can rule out a bird.”
He glanced at me and smiled. “Definitely, not a bird.”
I looked down over the parapet wall. “We’re 100 feet up. Was it a child’s toy, maybe?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” he said.
As the shadow passed over One City, I saw it. Flying high above the city, the well-lit object shown well against the shadowed portion behind it. It flew high enough for the sun to strike it at an angle, causing it to reveal itself.
David relayed a message via Iris to all the members of the Trust. “This is David. Just in case you had yet to notice, I spy an object flying 40 meters above the city somewhere around Station 8 West. It appears a bit dark and 40 centimeters in diameter. It seems that at least one of our invaders at the other portal survived. They may have sent istanbul travestileri out a reconnaissance drone. Please, don’t fire upon it. David out.” He pressed his finger behind his ear once again, as we watched the object fly above the city. “Iris, connect me to Rom.” –Rom was the artificial intelligence that controlled the satellites and space telescopes– “Hello, Rom. I don’t have time to chat. We have a situation. I suspect an Aggregate drone flies 40 meters- You see it?” David nodded at me. “Good. Oh, really? They might receive a transmission from a remote somewhere. Track it to the source if you can, and whatever else you do, don’t take your eye off them.” David ended the communication and turned to me. “There are two of them, so that’s two chances to track them to their origin.”
The minutes ticked past, and One City lay in shadow. Technically, it remained daytime for two more hours when the sun would set beyond the Western horizon. Having not slept well on the plane from Tokyo to London, I already felt too tired, but I suspected that David and I would have a long night.
Not long after the real sunset, Venn transported us to Laurel’s private lab –where her Portalphiles group met– tucked behind her home in a Tudor neighborhood far down the right arm of the city. I enjoyed my first time out at night, seeing One City so beautifully lit, and all the bicycles in use caught my eye. Many of them created a circular ring of blue light as the wheels turned, but with many, the body of the bike glowed fluorescent green.
“We have bike-hubs near the train stations,” said David. “All the green bikes serve as public bikes. Everyone can use the green ones you find at the bike hubs. Just leave them in another hub somewhere in the city. All the other bikes are privately owned. I’ve kept both of my bikes in the storage room at the penthouse.”
I gave David’s thigh a squeeze. “I remember you told me of your penchant for mountain biking. Should I get a bike? I wouldn’t want Venn or the train always to carry us everywhere we go.”
“If you will, I’ll get my street bike out of storage.”
The atmosphere of Laurel’s place looked somewhere between a lab and a swanky hangout. Drafting tables, an electronic version of a chalkboard, and tons of books –some written by members of the group themselves– surrounded a sunken lounge area containing a rounded couch. One could find a mural of the One City skyline –as seen from the lake– wrapped around the walls there.
Laurel, Gabe, David, and I were there. Gabe, wearing his red-jacketed Trust uniform, didn’t impart a pleasant first impression because of his appearance. He had black hair, oppressive-looking eyebrows with dark eyes, and he didn’t smile much. To describe him, the word severe sprung to mind, and his question to David at the Arena reinforced the notion. Regardless of any first impressions, however, we gratefully welcomed his input.
We grouped around a 3-foot circular holographic-display table that could tap into Jiyū’s central computer, as well as various artificial intelligences, like Venn or Rom, and could display what Rom could see from orbit.
Rom showed us an image of the planet from space. As the sun had set, Rom couldn’t present a live picture over One City; it came from earlier in the day. Jiyū didn’t look much like Earth. Earth always stood out from its darkened, spatial surroundings as a big blue and green marble with white clouds, while Jiyū looked like an even larger green and blue marble with white clouds. When Rom removed the clouds from the image, I saw no oceans, but many enormous seas, some more impressive than the Caspian Sea on Earth. Rom informed me that Jiyū consisted of 55% landmass and 45% surface water. The single landmass had no continents separated by water like on Earth; one could circumnavigate the globe on foot. As Rom zoomed in closer, I saw how much more substantial our lake appeared. One City sat in a bit of the upper right corner.
“I had no idea One City had grown so much,” said David. “I’m sorry, Rick, I keep thinking of Jiyū the way I left it. When I went to Earth, we had 3 million people. How many do we have now?”
“Jiyū now has a stable population growth rate at 1.5% per jear,” said Rom. “Over the last 50 jears, the population has risen to 5.3 million.”
“People have lived on Jiyū for thousands of jears,” I said. “Why didn’t the population explode after the creation of the youth enhancement? Shouldn’t Jiyū have tens, if not hundreds of millions of more people by now?”
“After Aurum’s creation of the youth enhancement,” said Rom, “Jiyū’s population began a steep decline. I do not know the reason.”
“It went down?” asked Laurel.
“That makes no sense at all.” David glanced at me.
“There’s something wrong with that,” I said to myself. I felt so bowled over with Jiyū when I first arrived. David said if you live someplace long enough, you begin to see every single flaw. This information jumped out at me as a travesti istanbul red flag, the first one. Against all reasonable expectations, the population declined. Of all of us, Gabe said nothing, and his expression had a notable change. He knew something, which he kept to himself. I looked him in the eye and decided to question him.
“Why did it go down?”
“We need to focus on the problem at hand,” said Gabe.
I could tell he hid something. “You know, don’t you?” I asked.
“Rick!” His tone was sharper than the occasion warranted. “Not now. We have more important matters.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I let his over-reaction slide. I would get the information soon enough.
The drones managed to elude Rom’s ever-watching eye and vanished. No one found them at their last known location. He believed they hadn’t left. They flew above the city for some time, and Rom detected something interesting in their behavior. He overlaid the pattern of the movements of the drones on the aerial view of the city. Each one moved about in a different section of the city.
“They each confined themselves to a different portion,” said Rom, “and they never overlapped, even when they could have done so.”
“That connotes intelligence,” said Laurel.
“It also tells me they can communicate with one another,” I said.
“Did you detect any communication between them, Rom?” asked David.
“None that I observed,” said Rom. “The scanning of the city had already begun when we discovered them, perhaps they communicated before they began.”
“From this display,” said Gabe, “they intended to scan and map out the city in detail. I would have shot them down, David.”
“And in doing so, you would have made a mistake,” said David. “Rom, why do you think they haven’t left.”
“I believe they await the dawn,” said Rom. “From what I can determine from the area they had scanned, and if I estimate the scanned portion before we noticed them, they are only 38% complete.”
“How far might they have traveled to get here?” asked David.
“Earth doesn’t’ have advanced power technology,” I said. “Rom, do you know how long they flew before their disappearance?”
“My best guestimate is three hours, twelve minutes,” he replied.
David looked at me with lowered brows and shook his head. “Not including the journey here, that’s a long time for a drone with a Terran power source.”
“Do we call them Terrans now?” I asked. “I thought we called them the Aggregate.”
David looked at me. “I never intended to call them the Aggregate, but that name seems to fit.” He glanced at Gabe. “Their technology is Terran. We must differentiate Earth’s technology from ours, and I find the word ‘Earthling’ laughable.”
“Fair enough.” I thought about it for a moment, and something occurred to me. “Wait, what if it doesn’t use a Terran power source?”
David’s expression changed to one of realization. “They’ll find that piece of technology easy to reverse engineer.” David turned back to the display. “Oh, no.”
Pearce’s betrayal continued to exhibit causational effects that persisted for some time to come. Pearce couldn’t do what he did in isolation of all other repercussive factors. If he could, we would have had no trouble forgiving him, and I believed we had. However, his betrayal had come home to roost. He might not remain forgiven if his actions caused us difficulties at every turn.
David told the others what had occurred and informed me of the extent of the damage. I understood the significance of the situation. The nano programming device Pearce took to Earth, once reverse engineered, didn’t just act as a template for more NP devices. In the hands of someone creative, it could usher in a new era of electronics built upon its technology. The American government had already begun utilizing some of it.
Jiyūvians called the power source used by the NP device an Isotopic Cell. And as scary as the idea of using isotopes sounded to me, they assured me of its safety with a genuine, intact cell. They would have had to craft the cell with a proper configuration and quality ingredients of exacting purity. If they had, it could power a device safely for decades. Bigger cells produced more power, and a group of cells could power a city, as it did on Jiyū with its Isotopic Array. However, while cells made without a proper configuration, or with lesser quality ingredients, could produce power, their safety and stability remained in question. Given the right conditions, an unstable cell could explode at a magnitude proportional to its size. Even with my rudimentary understanding of them, the danger they presented hadn’t escaped me. It could create an explosion that would throw nuclear material into the atmosphere, like a dirty bomb.
“If the drones run on an isotopic knockoff,” said Laurel, “I’m glad we didn’t fire upon them.”
“A knockoff?” asked Gabe.
“An inferior imitation,” I said, “as opposed to an exact duplicate.”
Gabe nodded. “So, they require capture; we can do that.”
“It would also provide an opportunity to do a little reverse engineering of our own,” said Laurel. “Aiden will enjoy that, I bet.” She looked at me.
“I’m sure.” Aiden loved technology, but he might draw the line at nuclear materials. I know I did.
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