Текст книги "Memories of the future. An eyewitness notes"

Mumbling something incomprehensible, he was hurrying to his small workshop to reprogram his creatures for the new assignment. On the way he was thinking on ways to better accomplish his plans. He decided to use Hagan’s armor to deliver a microdrone-operator to the Station. Now he was going to brief the drone on all aspects of its assignment. The main thing was for his small spy to steer out of the sight of the Station’s security system as long as possible.

The isoform hurriedly flew into the utility room, took out from the drawer and activated a couple of silver mechanisms, looking rather exotic.

The first one resembled a dragonfly with big eyes and versatile legs; the second, a larger one, looked like a large cockroach. He put them both on a magnetic table and got down to work. Five minutes later, Flop was through; he gave a critical look at his agents, checking their readiness, and got satisfied. Before leaving the workshop, he took them both in his paws and talked to each of them as though they had been living beings. He started with the cockroach:

“So I repeat: the most challenging task of yours will be to reach the body and then crawl towards the screen, where you will entrench yourself; and beware of drones-repairers. Okay, my darling, don’t let down your creator. And as for you, Dragonfly, your task will be to give me a good view and not distort the horizon. Take care of yourself!”

Everything was ready and it was time to pay a visit to Hagan. Only one thing remained to be done. Flop flew up quickly to the small auxiliary airlock and let out the Cockroach. Through the illuminator he watched him drift slowly towards the Station and then headed off to the principal airlock chamber, which was slowly approaching the docking table.

Flop looked through the illuminator of the principle airlock chamber: Hagan was still sitting in the same position, with his arm resting on the armor helmet, lying nearby. Flop determined certain pressure difference between sections and ordered out loud:

“Close down bulkheads of the pre-lock section, equalize the pressure and temperature, open the internal door.”

When the lock door slowly crawled aside, Flop drifted up to Hagan, hiding the Dragonfly behind his back. Funnily squinting his eyes at Hagan, Flop uttered weightily:

“Hagan, we’ll hand you over to the Scientific Station, as they are in more need of you. Does this option suit you?”

Hagan turned his face to him and began to rise on his feet, getting ready to put on his helmet.

“Of course, I would be greatly honored to work at the Station, I could not think of anything better,” he replied hastily; his voice was hoarse with excitement. ”Will you please tell the captain that I am grateful for this decision; by the way, I haven’t made his acquaintance.”

Flop swiftly flew around Hagan and stopped right before his face:

“There is absolutely no need for that. You’ve been invited by the Station’s Scientific Council to conduct research, and they have requested us to keep this secret. For the Coalition, you were lost in space after the explosion of the spacecraft. This version is in your best interests, do you understand what I mean?” Flop fixed his gaze on Hagan.

“Yes, I get you point, this is the right decision, thank you.”

He habitually put on the helmet, keeping his eyes on Flop. A smile appeared on his lips.

“And what are you planning to do there? Flop asked with interest, “Do you have any ideas? Can you share them with me?”

Hagan looked at Flop with an embarrassed smile and then suddenly his face turned serious.

“I’m going to proceed with the developments of Roberto Bartini on flying devices. And also on his theory of the six-dimensional space. I’ve got certain thoughts with respect to his theory. So I wish to do a research work on anti-inertia and anti-gravity and go even further!”

Flop thought for a while and seriously replied:

“We are happy to help you. Now it’s time to say good bye. It was a pleasure to be in your company,” he made a comical bow and headed to the door. The time had come to transfer the engineer to the Station. Soon the airlock door closed firmly behind Flop and the external one started opening; Hagan walked off awkwardly in his magnetic boots along the white path towards the Station’s airlock section. The transfer was finished.

Flop made sure that everything had been done as prescribed by the protocol. Then he moved his eyes around with a conspiratorial air and slowly drifted off towards the crew cabin. He had to think of how to inform the commander on his initiative without being given a clip round his ear. That was a challenging task.

Chapter 22

“Oh, Gods, Gods! Give me poison!

(M. Bulgakov)

Steven Hook was woken up by bring piercing sunrays penetrating his bedroom through the uncurtained narrow window. When, with much effort, he managed to unstuck his eyes, the captain found himself lying in his own bed, which was highly surprising.

He heard a buzz in his head similar to alarm sounds. Steven hung down his bare feet from the bed and bent down to search for his shoes, but that maneuver rendered him sick and heavy-headed. Screwing up his face from sudden wave of nausea, he resumed vertical position.

He could barely think; it seemed to him that he could feel his brain gyri move, which enhanced his headache.

He recalled some vague fragments of the last night’s party, at the end of which he appeared to have reached his black electric car and even articulated the address of his residential cell. However he failed to remember that particular fragment.

As he looked around the bedroom, he saw his things lying all around and guessed that he might have had difficulties getting back home.

He scrubbed his forehead and, wimbling, got out of bed, trying to cope with the alcohol withdrawal syndrome. Steven dragged himself towards the bathroom, stopped in front of a mirror, leaning over a small sink.

He didn’t like the reflection: looking at him, was a gloomy man with a swollen face and dull eyes. In addition, the stranger’s face was asymmetrical. The image was supplemented with dark spots of unknown origin on the sleeves and collar of his crumpled and dirty uniform.

He took out a glass from the cabinet and put it on a wall-mounted panel. A small synthesizer filled the glass with water. He grabbed hold of the half-full glass and guzzled down water, hoping to quench the unbearable thirst. After he emptied five glasses, the captain looked up at the communicator watch: “12:04” he said frowning and went out of the shower room.

His small studio-cell was furnished in the minimalism style, featuring an average-sized sliding bed, small cabinet with a statuette on it, and one broken-legged chair in the corner next to the narrow horizontal window.

The walls were decorated with medals and letters of recognition, awarded to Steven in various competitions on aerobatic flying and those testifying to his successful graduation from the Higher School of Space Fleet Pilots.

Also there was a round dark-blue carpet in the center of the room and a small kitchen consisting of a standard food synthesizer, withdrawable table and shelve filled with blue vessels.

Wall-mounted panels emitted subdued bluish light. There was an unpleasant smell of dust in the air, as the vent system was out of order. Pieces of a dismantled robot-cleaner were piled up in the corner.

Having stepped on something tough with his bare feet, Steven looked down and saw that it was a transparent pad. He stooped reluctantly to pick it up and looked sadly at the holographic picture of a brown-skinned girl with long eyelashes and bright yellow eyes full of joy.

With a gentle motion of her fingers she flipped a scarlet curl from her face. Her sensual lips were smiling at him.

Steven drew a deep breath and put the pad on the cabinet. “She had every reason to leave,” a thought crossed his mind.

He came up to the window and stared pensively at the dull landscape with gray square buildings and high-risers that had survived the earthquakes.

The communicator on his wrist switched on and sent a signal of an incoming message. Steven shuddered and responded hurriedly:

“Communicator, display the message,” he raised his hand to better hear the message. Last night, he had sent a request to a familiar girl operator from the outer space monitoring service for more details on his crashed spacecraft.

The room at once got filled with the familiar female voice:

“Steven, I am going to cheer you up a bit now, and you will return me the favor by taking me out to some decent place. Well, here’s what I saw: a flash of explosion in the tail part of your ship, then small wrecks flying all about, which is quite clear, but then I saw, at the moment of the explosion, a considerably large object getting detached from the middle of the spaceship body; then a signal came from the radio beacon in your engineer’s armor. No damage was reported. That was merely an emergency signal. The signal began to digress, meaning he got thrown away in outer space. The interesting point is that he drifted there for a while, and then the signal started to return; as soon as it neared the point where the engineer had been thrown away in space, it disappeared completely.

And now let’s analyze the above. The Free People’s technologies prevent us from seeing their satellites and spacecrafts on the orbit. Although my bosses disagree with, my opinion is that your Hagan was rescued. The possibility is over 93 %. Of course, they would not listen to me.

I think that the very satellite that knocked you down saved Hagan. Then it suppressed his signal for disguise purposes. The satellite might have thrown him into the ship’s airlock and returned to its position. And besides, I think, they changed the orbit afterwards, as I spotted a slight energy surge.

My forecast is that Hagan is still alive. And, most probably, they will hand him over to the orbital “doughnut”, so the Coalition will never see him again. They had done that before, handing over their smart prisoners to the scientists. So don’t worry about the guy. And… don’t forget that you owe me a favor.”

A wave of joy and relief rose in Steven’s soul. He perked up and told the communicator with a smile:

“Communicator, record my feedback on the recent message.” Standing in the center of the room, he started dictating in a cheerful voice: “Hidey, thanks for getting this off my chest! The Commander didn’t even mention that. Can I ask you for one more favor? Tell no one about your opinion on this situation. It’s merely your presumption. So keep your opinion for yourself, there is no breach of the instruction. And forget about this as soon as possible. In a couple of days I will be back from the town and take you to the best place of all, the Horsetail bar!”

He took a sigh of relief and suddenly said out loud in response to his thoughts:

“Hagan, you are lucky devil! Hidey is rarely wrong. I can imagine your joy: they did not only rescue you from sure death in outer space but also brought you over to the scientists! Well and good. You got what you had sought for. Besides I got off chip myself. And already for the second time … I’m not going to wait for the third time. I’ve got to retire from the Spacecraft Fleet.”

Encouraged by this decision, Steven decided to put himself in order, change his clothes and go to the town to finish up some business.

Before leaving his apartment, he did one more thing – called Oor, the only friend of his.

Unintentionally, the captain’s gazes fall on the wall-mounted holographic image featuring a group of students. Yong pilots were standing against the background of an old-model F-16 plane during their tour in the Naval Aviation Museum.

After graduation, they followed different paths. Steven went to serve to the Spacecraft Fleet, while Oor applied for the ground aviation. He was the first of all their graduating class to be awarded a hero’s medal. At the time, the Coalition fought for domination in the air above the Planet’s poles. Each day, there were battles above the Ocean and land, with both enemies suffering enormous losses. Oor was actively involved in the battles and would return to the base only for refilling. He was a heaven-born pilot and won numerous victories. But one day he got intercepted.

Rumors had it that he was knocked down by a girl, whose second pilot was an Artificial Intelligence. Having run out of her ammunition reserve, she merely riddled Oor’s fighter from guns at short range. Injured and defeated, Oor had to catapult.

No one tried to finish him up in the air, and after his landing he was pulled out from water by a rescue team. Doctors in the hospital where he was held decided that his body was beyond repair. After than Oor’s consciousness was rewritten into a standard cyber body, created specifically for the Coalition’s Air Force pilots, who had lost their unique biological bodies in fight. One year later, Oor left service and soon became the leader of a wide-scale civil movement known as CCFF (Collective Consciousness Forms the Future).

The communicated responded with a slight trembling.

“Hi Steve! I was getting kind of worried about you,” Oor said cheerfully, outcrying the street noise, “How about meeting for a coffee in the “Shadow”? “Oor, my friend! You are full of life as usual. Of course, let’s meet in the “Shadow.” I’m already on my way.” With these words he left his residential cell.

A tiny café called “In the Shadow” was located not far from Steven’s block in a small park among dried-up trees. The cafe walls were made of water sprays, flowing off a mirror dome roof. That was the customary meeting place for all flight students.

At the time, the café was almost empty. After passing through the water wall, Steven walked towards a food synthesizer, ordered a protein cocktail and then sat down to the table he had sat at with Oor during their last meeting. The rustle of water sprays and the very atmosphere of that place had a reassuring effect on him. Steven snuggled down in a cozy chair, looking favorably at other visitors.

The increased solar radiation levels caused all people to wear light-reflecting clothes that were tailored to the needs and tests of each owner.

Sitting at the next table was a group of four nice-looking girls dressed in emerald-green uniforms of the aviation company’s officers: tight-fitting over-knee dresses with short sleeves, high collars and thin white belts. Their thick color-changing hair was combed in knots and their uniform caps were titled slightly sideward.

It occurred to Steven that at the time it was hard to tell people in unique bodies from those in cyber ones.

Looking keenly at the chatting girls, he occasionally recalled episodes of the recent explosion: smoke, flame, the horror-stricken face of his senior assistant and rotating stars behind the illuminator.

A large holographic panel in the café was broadcasting the town news with customary clips urging everyone to apply for the military service and to join the Planet’s terraforming groups. The screen featured young enthusiastic people in uniforms, launching drones on assignments, getting into combat exoskeletons and managing huge mechanisms in efforts to win back living space from deserts, and to restore woods and animal life. These clips were followed with promises of statesmen to end up the war with victory. Afterwards, it broadcasted a discussion between some experts of the Coalition who unanimously condemned the activity of the CCFF movement.

The experts called for the arrest of the movement members, and only one of the senators declared sincerely: “In this case, you will have to arrest one third of the whole population. And where shall we accommodate them all?”

All of a sudden, Steven felt someone’s palms on his shoulders and heard the familiar voice right before his ear:

“You never expect anyone to sneak up from behind! You haven’t changed a bit!”

Steven gave a jump and turned around. The friends hugged and slapped each other on the back.

Oor preserved his military bearing. He was dressed in a light-grey light-resisting coat, sand-colored trousers with numerous pockets and a loose shirt. His outfit was supplemented with old-fashioned light loafer shoes. He decided to leave his cyber body unchanged, except for making his legs a bit longer.

The sole adornment of his clothes was a bracelet on his right hand and a small round Hero’s medal on the left side of his chest. After a warm hug the friends sat down opposite each other. Nothing can be stronger than army friendship.

Steven had always been wondering how it felt like to live in a cyber body, and besides he wanted to discuss with Oor his decision to leave the military service.

The friends hadn’t seen each other for more than a year, but Oor’s face features hadn’t changed at all for obvious reasons. In front of Steven was the same 25-year old young man. Had had agreeable and calm face features: plain lips, straight nose, deep-set gray-blue eyes with slight squint; mid-length fair hair with a fringe hanging down to the left, partially covering his eye.

Steven remarked that Oor was moving differently in his new body. Now he had precise body language deprived of any superfluous movements typical for people in biological bodies. No trace was left of the agile young student, who used to swing his hands while talking.

Steven learnt form the news that the CCFF movement had been gaining an increasing number of supporters and opponents alike among the Coalition’s leaders.

“Time has left its mark on you Steven,” said Oor, measuring him with his eye, “You’ve got more wrinkles. And you no longer smile. How are things at your service? What are you flying on? The Coalition provided us with little information on the war and on the world events as well, and only from their point of view. Tell me about yourself, my friend.”

Steven grew noticeably gloomy. With slight agitation Steven told him about the recent events and finally added:

“You know, I am thinking of taking off my shoulder boards…and doing something else. Do you remember, previously I told you about my plans to mine resources in the asteroid belt? What do you think of this? The Mars independent colony is quite close. And the Moon will be pleased with such gifts…”

Oor listened closely to Steven, apparently overwhelmed by his story.

“I’ll check information on your Hagan through my reliable channels,” he said in a calm voice, looking the captain in the eye, “and inform you on results later on. And as far as the asteroid belt is concerned, listen closely, my fried, and tell no one about that. The researches have recently returned from the orbital station and drafted a report. In a nutshell, the hypothesis was confirmed. They found the remains of a destroyed planet there and brought some samples and remarkable artifacts. Among other things discovered, was some unusual mad-made matter.” Here Orr depressed his voice and leaned forward. “Steven, that was a fragment of some rational matter. Upon mental contact it gives response, revealing the properties of the mind. Do you realize what it means?”

An expression of extreme surprise appeared on Steven’s face. With his eyes wide open he stared at Oor, trying to comprehend the meaning of his phrase.

“We thought it was just a fantasy,” that was all he could say.

“Steven, I repeat,” Oor continued, “even the Coalition’s intelligence does not have information on the new discovery. You must keep it secret. If you feel like going there, by all means, do so, my friend. I will do my best to help you. I’ll put in a word for you to some good people.” with these words Oor tipped back in chair and smiled at Steven “Maybe they will give you a ship.”

The captain gave a quick look around and said in a strained voice:

“Where have you learnt all this from? Even the Coalition is not aware of that.”

With his eyes fixed on Steven, Oor smiled again and said enigmatically:

“I am a cyborg now in the full sense of this word. There is space or phenomenon, call it whatever you want, that exists out of the reach of the Coalition’s arms. I mean the Cyborg Dreams. But it’s hard for me to explain to you what it’s all about.”

Steven had already heard those strange sounding words, but in fact had no idea about them. However he decided not to enquire his friend about that matter, seeing that he was telling the truth. He really liked the offer. A wave of joyful excitement and anticipation of something new overwhelmed him. To encourage Steven further, Oor said with a smile:

“Then let’s do it this way: you’ll strictly follow my plan and instructions. And now apply for retirement. Finish up all your business on the Planet and wait for my call.”

The captain nodded, showing his full readiness and consent. However Steven noted that Oor was telling him nothing about himself:

“What’s new in your life?” the captain asked, quizzically raising his eyebrows, “I guess not many people are wishing you long life now. I’ve also told that an amazingly beautiful blond accompanied you everywhere! Will you introduce me to her?”

“The Coalition is chasing me down,” Oor said casually, “But let’s talk about me later. Next time we’ll meet outside of the town, and I will tell you my story in detail. Our world is again on the threshold of major changes. I would really like to sit here with you longer, but, believe me, I just can’t. Later I will explain everything. And don’t knock your head against a brick wall. Keep quiet about our talk,” and he winked at Steven mysteriously. “I would give a lot to be able to again climb up onto a ship bridge and set off on a journey to the edge of the Universe,” with these words Oor rose, making it clear that he was about to leave. Steven gave him a smile of regret – there was so much he wanted to tell Oor.

The friends hugged warmly. All the riches of this world are nothing in comparison with one good friend.

Hangover – a post-intoxication state resulting from alcohol consumption that is accompanied with unpleasant psychological and physiological effects such as headache, irritancy, dryness of the mouth, sweatiness, nausea.

Chapter 23

“This world, which is the same for all, no one of gods or men has made. But it always was and will be: an ever-living fire, with measures of it kindling, and measures going out. No one can read the book of nature without knowing the language it is written in.”

Heraclitus

(a fragment of records from the Common Information-Energy Space of the Planet)

The Free People’s response to their first collision on the Pole with the Coalition’s new combat machines was immediate and tough. Based on the data reported by on-orbit patrol ships and “Hanuman” type satellites that spotted the volatile objects by their uncommonly bright glow and atmosphere ionization, the AI determined the base location.

The response had to be fast, and the commandment decided to resort to the use of the orbital kinetic weapon. Up to that moment, the Council of Scientist did not recommend using that super powerful weaponry so as not to disturb the Planet for no serious reason.

First of all, efforts were made to knock out all of the Coalition’s orbital satellites.

And here “Hanumans” came in full force. That was a fight between AIs without involvement of men. The enemy was dazzled by the blow of the “Hammer”.

A couple of hours hadn’t passed when the “Hammer” orbital system from the furthest point of the orbit, invisible to detecting equipment, quickly adjusted the course and came to the launch spot. Instantly, the whole space around the massive spacecraft was lit with a powerful white flash from a taking off rocket.

Down from the elliptic orbit, darted a blistering blinding beam. Making a curve, the bright white-blue lightening pierced the atmosphere. Hardly had the light of its launch gone out, when a huge cupola of an extremely bright fire ball emerged on the Planet’s surface, and a shock wave rolled out like a white ring, smashing down everything far beyond the limits of the island. A 20-ton sharp-nosed rod made of refractory substance, accelerated up to the speed of thirty kilometers per second, penetrating the island’s stone foundation like butter.

The ground shuddered and burst into flame.

Everything within a fifteen miles’ radius of the base center turned into red-hot dust and ash that lifted up dozens of miles by the powerful explosion.

The flash turned orange and then red, forming an enormous mushroom with weaving dark edges. And that mushroom suspended high above the place which used to be the island, inspiring fear to everyone who could witness that horrible scene.

Even many years later, the record of that event would again and again astonish people by the extent of the destructive power of human mind and the pain endured by the Planet.

The kinetic weapon is based on a rather simple principle. It involves neither explosive substances nor warheads, only the system of acceleration and navigation. The simplicity of genius.... How did it come into being?

That was the time of tensions between the Coalitions and other countries wishing to live free from the dictatorship of the so called “World Owners”. And so in the early twenty first century, one young student, after making simple calculations, came up with the orbital kinetic weapon concept. According to his calculations, a base ship placed into eccentric orbit would take a flight from the Earth to the Moon at both ends during 18 hours. That was its combat site. That ship being controlled by AI, would carry a container with needle-shaped dummies made from heat-resistant material, namely nanotubes intertwisted in a specific manner. The dummy would include a simple system of path correction and acceleration, using nuclear explosion, or rather a series of accelerating explosions. The most complicated part was the process of rocket launch and acceleration, but scientists quickly found a solution and, by joint efforts, they were able to accelerate a heat-proof dummy needle up to the required thirty kilometers per second and even more, when needed. And that was a breakthrough in the military science.

The devastating effect resulted from the energy, generated upon collision with the Earth surface. The concept of that weapon that came up to the poor student’s mind was inspired by the news on meteorites falling on the Planet and other worrisome political events. That was how that powerful devastating weapon came into being, while the poor student over time came to be the leader of a large project.

Years passed, and that part of the Ocean where the island used to be, was called the “UFO Base”.

Chapter 24

"Creation of any victorious weapon is always preceded with discovery of even more perfect weapon, capable of defeating the previous one”

(someone’s observation made between the 20th and 21st centuries)

Hardly had the mixture of dust and ash subsided on the Ocean’s troubled waves, when a group of scientists and engineers embarked on developing radically different types of flying machines.

A large hall packed with scientific experts was filled with noise – they were discussing the would-be machine configuration and exchanging data that ware being displayed on holographic panels in crawl lines. At various parts of the large holographic screen appeared drawings of flying apparatus, fragments of mechanisms, charts, figures, formulas. Their loud voices outroaring each other produced hideous noise; the disputants appeared to take no notice of anything around them, losing track of time. Everyone present, except for one person, were in cyber bodies. A tall man in a standard cyber body, wearing a combat suit without marks of distinction, was making his points, actively swinging his arms.

His fair stray hair fell down on his face, almost covering his eyes glowing with enthusiasm, while his words were being displayed on the screen as images: “As I see it, this apparatus will have an easy-to-use construction, whose major unit will be gravity thruster, namely a mercury vortex. Power will be supplied to all systems of the apparatus from the energy unit using high-concentrated energy transformed into the structure that mathematically resembles a “black hole”. And here it is possible to use the properties of a vortex, not mercury one but plasma-based, so as to attain abnormal density of gravitational energy.”

“This is absolutely unimaginable!” objected another scientist.

“Then what do you make of all this?”

And instead of verbal arguments, he started to rapidly display charts and drawings of the suggested model, and as he was doing that, one pair of his hands were proudly resting on his hips and the other pair – folded on his chest.

The scientist created that body on his own and then following its significant upgrade added another pair of deft hands. He was trimly dressed in an old-fashioned Chinese raincoat with fancywork.

His black hair was combed back into a long plait.

The other participants started an animated discussion, exchanging their views on the device.

Charts and figured continued to gleam on the display. A tall fair-haired engineer turned to the scientist and said loudly amid the background noise:

“Esteemed Yun-Shen Lee! I can see that we’ve found the truth!”

Immediately after these words, the holographic screen blinked off and everyone heard a calm voice of the AI Indigo.

“Will you allow me to show you this design?” Although Indigo’s voice was polite, its intonation was highly categorical. Indigo had always been short-spoken, and everyone knew that every time he would come up with an idea, it was to be of importance.

No one objected; complete silence settled in the room. Some people in expectation of something interesting worked their way closer to the screen that was now featuring the contours of the future machine, slowly emerging from white mist and occasionally changing their shape. In the course of the display, Indigo was adding new details and making amendments to the design.

AI Indigo was a universally accepted authority in aeronautical engineering, and his colleagues implicitly treated his as a competent leader capable to figure out in advance not only the future machine design but also all further upgrades in the course of its evolution.