Chapter 3 – Impossible Equations...
Maven Burns threw another steak upon his charcoal grill burning in the middle of one of his site's many rocket tunnels. Though Paul and Marshall salivated in the smell of searing beef, those guests would not deny feeling more than a little anxious that rocket fuel might be stored somewhere in the vicinity of that grill's open flame.
Maven Burns whistled as he tore into another beer bottle with a can opener tied to his belt. Upon taking a long swallow, the tycoon grinned upon his guests.
"Simply a pleasure to meet the two of you," Maven nodded and server robots rolled fresh bottles to Paul and Marshall. "It's a rare occasion when I have the opportunity to meet inventors and innovators of your gentlemen's caliber. Not everyday I get to meet with the real makers and shakers of our little, blue planet of a space rock. A reason for celebration as far as I'm concerned."
The men tapped their bottles together and summoned a flood of foam. Paul and Marshall struggled to judge if they danced upon the precipice of ruin or wealth.
Little was known about the man responsible for building that empire marked by the red flame whose works defined the modern world. The name of Maven Burns stood behind industry's most profitable enterprises of the last thirty years. It was the name of Maven Burns which was accredited with the strands of computer code and algorithms that unknotted the teeming bustle of the overpopulated planet and tied it all back together in an exact system of order. It was Maven Burns who streamlined piles of computer jargon to realize an artificial intelligence marketable to the world's unforgiving practicalities. Maven Burns developed the computer chips that powered the robotic minds that effortlessly transported commuters through taxis and airlines. His artificial intelligences judged each hour's winds and guided the oceanic wind turbines to the perfect spot for optimal energy return. His robotic minds piloted the drones that destroyed any terrorist haven before it might flourish. The computer chips of Maven Burns gave animation to the robotic feline and canine pets that offered so many children comfort. Microwaves and toasters, tables saws and pneumatic nailers, digital textbooks and faceless, robotic teachers all shared a brain built upon the principles first mastered by the genius of Maven Burns.
Marshall's nerves worked their way through a bowl of tortilla chips. "I doubt my work would much impress you, Mr. Burns. There's no better programmer than yourself behind any keyboard."
Maven winked. "Give yourself more credit right at the start of a thing. It'll save the two of you millions to just accept the fact that you're the ones responsible for the Singularity's realization. Accept the good of it along with the bad of it. I'm curious to know how the two of you did it."
"You'll have to forgive us, Mr. Burns, but my associate and I feel it's too early to start sharing trade secrets."
Paul didn't flinch from the grin Maven flashed him. How much did Mr. Burns know about the Singularity? Paul suspected that the man's Stetson hat, his leather vest, his worn jeans and bright white mustache that all painted Maven Burns like some cow wrangler from days of yore were all pieces of wardrobe carefully stitched together to encourage underestimation, to lower the guard of partners and rivals. Paul needed to be sharp, to play it close. Marshall was the wizard with the software, the warlock who made those flickering faces of their seances glow with life. But Paul was the partner with a smile filled with shark's teeth, with the devil's charm, and he needed to play the cards just right if he hoped to withstand whatever scrutiny Maven Burns leveled upon them.
"Of course. Of course." Maven winked. "Forgive my prying. I've no desire to steal your boys' magic. All I'm asking for is help."
Marshall slowed in his assault against the tortilla chips. "We're very sorry you're sick, Mr. Burns."
"We would be very honored to help alleviate your suffering in any way we could," Paul nodded.
"I'm pleased to say my case is not so dire," and the flames danced as Maven flipped another steak upon the grill. "My case is unique. I'm not interested in the Singularity for myself. I'm interested in the Singularity for my daughter Reese."
Paul peeked towards Marshall and saw that his associate's skin was as pale as his own.
"Forgive my prying," Paul softly started, "but what's ailing your daughter? Is she terribly afflicted? I hope her suffering is not too great."
Maven winked. "You see, boys, that's the thing that makes my case special, the thing that moves me to haul you boys halfway across the globe so we can speak in private. Privacy's no easy thing for a man in my position to come by. You see, boys, there's nothing wrong with my girl at all."
Marshall and Paul gaped at the tycoon.
"I fear there's a misunderstanding between us, Mr. Burns," Paul responded. "The law only allows us to offer the Singularity to those suffering from terminal sickness."
"I know, boys. I know." Maven paused to place well-done steaks upon paper plates. "I'm well aware of the letter of the law. If it weren't for attorneys, boys, I doubt I would have any friends at all. Only hear me out. I think the reward I'm dangling on the other end of the line earns me at least that."
Marshall shrugged. Paul nodded.
Maven pulled a handful of fresh beers out of a styrofoam cooler. "It's no secret that I've built an empire on artificial intelligence. My fleet of airliners, my driverless cars, my robotic companions are all built on my innovative coding.
"That code gave me everything, and for years I tried to sit back and enjoy the rewards of my work. I built my own private island, and I topped it with a manor of forty-six rooms built to my design. I found a woman willing to share in my eccentricities, and we started a family with the birth of my daughter Reese. For years I tried to simply relax and watch my girl grow. I invested all my interest into tea parties and ponies. Meanwhile, my empire swelled. I needed to do nothing to flood my coffers with gold."
Maven winked at his guests. "I bet you boys know where this story is headed. We're all innovators here. All the money in the world cannot satisfy us. Sooner or later, we need a new obsession. We just can't stomach the boredom, no matter all the wealth."
"I don't know," Marshall mumbled through a mouth filled with steak. "I think I could get by just fine with all the money."
Paul glared at his associate. Marshall was such a genius with numbers and code, and yet he couldn't recognize when it was best to keep his mouth shut.
"I know what you mean, Mr. Burns," Paul quickly added. "The impulse to create something new."
"Exactly," and Maven pointed a fork at Paul. "In time, you'll understand it too, Mr. Lincoln. I felt trapped on that island, and I had to be as pleasant to be around as a cornered possum.
"Inspiration came from my daughter, and ever since, Reese has been my muse," Maven smiled. "All those tea parties and ponies never made her very happy either. So I provided her one toy after another hoping to find something that would make her smile. And then, on her ninth birthday, I gave her a telescope. She fell in love with the worlds revealed by that telescope. She charted each phase of the moon. She traced the constellations upon her bedroom walls. She tracked meteors in a notebook. Every light on our island was extinguished each night so that not a trace of artificial illumination would pollute the sky's black. And she taught me so much - the orbits of each planet, where star hatcheries burned, of terrible black holes that lurked in the dark.
"It thrilled me to watch wonder fill Reese's eyes. In the rare, unpopulated wild, I built her an observatory to replace that first telescope, and instantly it became her home."
Maven's eyes beamed. "Her obsession with the stars became my own. I possessed more fortune than I could imagine. I had the means, and I was foolish enough to believe I had the mind. I was determined to bring the stars to Reese.
"Thus I broke ground on this complex fifteen years ago. I gathered my resources and hired the best minds to build this spaceport. Our future waits for us in the stars, boys, and I'm hoping to paint my red flame on the sides of all those rockets lifting us
into the heavens. Like Reese is fond of saying, it's about time we departed this overcrowded cradle."
Marshall's fingers tapped upon the table. "But just thinking of the distances involved boggles the mind."
"You don't know the half of it," Maven chuckled. "I've spent the last decade running in circles, chasing holy grails and pushing at impossible equations. I've invested billions in the pursuit of faster-than-light travel, and it's taken every dollar for me to accept the impossibility of such speed. There's nothing in mankind's power capable of folding space or sliding through wormholes. The best we can hope for is to simply float through all the black that separates the stars. Though my engineers can create incredible alloys to shield a star traveller from radiation, there's no scientist who can immortalize the flesh."
Paul's stomach tightened. Maven Burns was nothing like the bereaved widows and parents who employed their service. The scope of the tycoon's ambition terrified him.
Marshall's lips trembled as he gathered a breath to speak. "You hope to depend upon the soul if the flesh must falter."
"Exactly." Maven winked.
Paul shook his head. "But why not load an artificial intelligence atop your rocket? There's no question that you're capable of creating a computer mind able to pilot any craft as adeptly as a human."
Maven peered into Paul's eyes, his face morphing into something hard, something cold and calculating. Paul chided himself for feeding whatever small suspicion might have remained in the recesses of the tycoon's mind.
Marshall saved them. "A computer could never appreciate those stars for what they really are. An artificial intelligence could not dream amid such starlight. A computer mind could guide the ship, could avoid destructive whirls of gravity, but it would be a poor emissary. There would be no soul. It would be like sending a dead thing into the heavens."
"Then you know what's driven me mad while I've watched this spaceport rise," Maven Burns replied. "I want this place to be the launching pad. I want to send immortal souls across the heavens to find those places about which we have dreamed and whispered for millenniums. I want to help spread mankind across the cosmos. And most of all, I want give Reese what she wants more than anything else. I want to give her the glory of being the first soul to float amongst those twinkling stars."
Paul sighed. "I'm sorry to have to interject some doubt into your idea, Mr. Burns, but there's the law. You've told us your daughter is not at all sick. You would be asking us to prematurely end her life before we upload her into our machine and launch her into the vacuum of space. Some would call that an act worse than murder. It's something I'm not sure I can do."
Maven softly gripped Paul's shoulder. "Do me one favor more before you boys decide one way or another. Meet Reese. Let her explain why she wants what she wants."
Paul Seton and Marshall Lincoln were back aboard that windowless, arrowhead of a plane less than ten minutes after depositing the last of Maven Burns' steaks into their stomachs. They had needed little time to decide they would accompany the tycoon to another corner of the globe. They had gambled everything the first time they convinced anyone to press the button, and they were at the wind's mercy. Perhaps they moved closer to their fortune, or perhaps closer to their punishment. Either way, they had already sacrificed their souls.
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