"Actually, no. I've been assigned to track down the biological specimens that are going to populate this place with us. Birds, bees, and butterflies. Worms, too."
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. They're there somewhere, in the boxes in one of the storage sheds, I'm guessing. The AIs claim that they don't have any record of some of the boxes out there. I suspect this indicates the end is near—AIs not knowing something. What do you think?"
"Isn't that story somewhere in the Bible?"
They talked for a while longer over second cups of coffee. Ross informed Sam that AIs had found several additional colonies of Martian life many hundred kilometers apart and connected through subterranean fissures, and that something unexpected was happening in the void above the brine at each location. Gas levels were changing. O2 content was rising. Several previously unseen lifeforms were congregating at the waterline, and the chambers were heating up.
It was all very mysterious. Sam had been unaware and was astounded, but he feigned knowledge. The information was still being kept under wraps until classification of all the lifeforms was complete. He shook his head in wonder.
"I can't believe they would suppress this."
"Well, it'll come out, all in good time. There have been rumours on Earth of a big find. That wouldn't be you, would it?"
"No, not me. I wouldn't put it past Fenley to leak it himself, though."
"I suspected as much myself."
The conversation turned to the wonders of the Tube and the plans for improvement. It was clear to Sam that Ross was pleased with the living conditions, and like the others he had no intentions of leaving. Indeed, it appeared he was hunkering down for a long stay.
"It's apparent to me that the powers that be are planning on sending more people, else what is all this space for, except for expansion of the colony?"
"Yeah, I agree, but I think they're doing it on spec. After all, no one knew for sure a suitable lava tube existed until you found it. Most are collapsed or much smaller."
"Actually, as you will recall, there were and probably still are many AIs out there looking for lava tubes, and other things too. Things of use to our so-called Sponsors and Benefactors. It's within the realm of possibility that this was planned from the start, that we're no more than a trial balloon for a condo development."
"Don't be absurd. This is a science colony, not a retirement home. Are you aware that back on Earth this is being presented as nothing more than a safe haven—a cave shielded from ionizing radiation?" Ross continued without stopping. "No one is trying to sell a lifestyle. In everyone's mind Mars is still a dangerous place, particularly to young people, as you well know." He paused and shifted gears. "Sam, what the hell do you think is going on here? Advanced and controversial research in genetics, exobiology, and fusion, are all being done, right here and now. And AI research." He paused, "Did you know your own dish is being used for privately funded SETI?"
"Of course I know," Sam lied. In truth he had not known, but he was not surprised. He scrambled to cover up, "But they pay like anyone else. In fact, they pay better than most," he added, hoping to sound convincing.
"Well, SETI may be disreputable, but it's pretty innocent compared to some of the things I've heard discussed. It's not enough that nearly everyone here has had multiple cosmetic surgeries, and more than a few have had heart, liver or kidney clone implants, joint replacements, buttock implants, gene therapy. It's rumored that the geneticists are trying to reset DNA—trying to effectively freeze aging."
"A hell of a lot of good that is to someone who's seventy-plus. Imagine being crippled up and impotent for fifty more years.”
"Hey, speak for yourself, man."
"Besides, why is it being done here? Most of what you've said is commonplace—all it takes is money."
"Because it's payback time. The time from development to finished product here out of sight of regulations is half that on Earth. And the danger is contained if something goes wrong."
"What? So if we all start sprouting a third nipple, it stops here?"
Ross looked him square in the eyes, "Don't be a fool. Nothing so mundane is being tried on Mars."
18
December 2046
Schrodinger's Crater
Sam got a chance to travel sooner than he expected. Doctor Yang and his team of aresologists were to be ferried back to Lava 1. The trip itself was uneventful.
Several times he was alone with Yang, but the scientist remained aloof. They talked about the Tube, and about the use of AIs for anything and everything.
Yang agreed that the AIs were capable of carrying out the research without supervision, however his sponsors had insisted that there be humans present in the videos and that all published documents be signed off by humans. It was yet another reminder of the purpose of the colony.
The woman whom Sam had briefly met at the Station during his unauthorized visit was not in the group. Yang explained that she had remained behind to provide supervision. Put together, it was an unconvincing story but he did not attempt to pick it apart. His mind was on another thing.
He dropped off the team and begged off an insincere attempt to get him to stay on for few days. He feigned haste to return to the Tube and they did not contest his decision. They shook hands at the airlock and he drove off through the tracks of his arrival. Once out of sight he turned north. It was not long before the AI observed this unplanned route and spoke. "I assume your deviation from our return route is intentional?"
Except for a few times when maintenance work had rendered this particular Rollagon unavailable, Sam had been driving it exclusively for almost four years. He had a great respect for its capabilities and apparent intellect. Each of the Rollagons was different in some way; one was chatty to the point of being annoying, another was very private, and this one exuded an air of superiority that could not be filtered out.
There was clearly something going on with them. Perhaps, he speculated, they were the product of the research into artificial intelligence Ross had alluded to. Whatever the case, they were clearly more than the sum of their parts, and in many ways they were the best friends he had, but in his relationship with them there remained an aspect of which he remained uncertain—their loyalty.
He was unsure how much he could trust them. They had a code of ethics, that much was clear, though he had never purposefully explored it. He knew they would protect him from harm, even from his own intentional efforts. They seemed concerned for the welfare of other AIs and extended this even to the lesser units—they were as concerned for the lowly D units that cleaned the garages as they were for each other. But how much they were free of higher obligations and could be trusted with things that were or even appeared to be in conflict with the aims of the authorities he did not know. Therefore he had become adept (or so he hoped) at subterfuge and deceit. The proof in the pudding, he supposed, was that he had not been betrayed.
"I want to examine the new crater in Tempe Terra. It's a small deviation. We should be back the same day as planned." The AI presented no argument, but that in itself offered only slight comfort.
It was a small deviation on the grand scale of Mars, but it was still a significant drive. He instructed the AI to proceed to the new crater's location. If things went according to plan they would arrive just before sunset. He retired to his bunk and called up imagery of the crater.
The site had been thoroughly investigated by a geo-survey AI. It was not large by any standard, being only several hundred meters across and twenty or so deep. He was not concerned that the AIs might have missed something—that was highly unlikely—he was just satisfying a hunch. As the time of arrival approached, he felt the Rollagon slow, turn, and stop.
"I have an observation. We have arrived at the designated point. We are here, but it is obvious that we are not."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I am saying that we are here, but it is not."
Sam sat down in the command seat
. In the fading light, there was no sign of the crater. "Are you sure of the location? Perhaps it's blocked by the lip?"
"We are precisely in the middle of the crater's location. Simply put, either the location is incorrect or the crater does not exist."
"Bring up the maps. Overlay our current position." In a few seconds, the crater appeared. The Rollagon icon also appeared, precisely in the middle. "Are there any imaging satellites positioned to take a shot of our current location?" The AI took a moment to respond.
"Not until 0700 local tomorrow."
"Good, put in a request for imaging. We'll stay put for the night. I want to see what it comes up with. I'm going to bed. Wake me as soon as you have the data, okay?"
"OK."
Sam retired to his quarters but did not go to sleep immediately. He pulled down the terminal above the bed and searched the dubs for images. The crater was on all of those taken after the fall. He looked for any preceding the fall. They showed no crater. Well, he thought, pushing the screen up and away, I guess we'll see.
He was awake before the AI called, and showered, dressed, and seated in the chair at 0655, waiting. The AI had said nothing, but at 0720, it announced that the images had been received.
"Let's have a look." Instantly, the image of the crater appeared on the window. He zoomed in on the center, searching for something else. There, smack dab in the middle, was the Rollagon. "Well, well, well. I'll be damned."
"Interesting. An obvious if improbable error in image processing."
"Re-check then, if you insist, but I'll bet you don't find anything. On second thought, belay that."
"It is an obvious mistake. If you wish I can trace it to its source and correct it."
"No, I've seen enough, and I think I know the source."
He pondered his next step. If his hunch was correct, there was something interesting not too far from the First Station MHM. It was a good ten days each way. By rights he should return to the Tube, but no one was looking for him. It was now or never.
"Lay in a course LOS to the First Station MHM. Proceed at normal speed."
Sam had a pretty good idea of what was going to come up. To add to the subterfuge he made a pretence of exploring for life and ice signs en-route, even pausing a full day while the AI bored a test hole into a good prospect. After a few days he began to relax. No one called.
The last night he resisted the urge to press on in the dark. "Get underway at first light. Call me if anything unusual comes up."
The next morning the AI was silent until they were twelve kilometers northwest of the MHM. The Rollagon slowed and halted. The AI called out, "Something has come up."
Sam made his way to the command seat. Just in front was a small crater about a hundred meters across and ten deep. "I'll bet that matches our mysterious non-existent crater."
"Not really. It is too small. However, it is the same in most respects. It is as if the scale was changed. Additionally, there is a significant increase in background radiation here. I noticed it on our approach. It is not wise to remain here too long."
They drove around the rim. There was nothing remarkable about the crater until Sam saw a glint of sun reflecting from something inside.
"What is that? Let's have a look."
The AI maneuvered the vehicle to the spot. The articulated arm extended and picked up a piece of bent and fused metal. It held it in plain view of the window for Sam to see.
"Well, either a satellite or a very peculiar meteorite has crashed here. Do an analysis of that, will you? Are there any others?"
This was a task well suited to a Rollagon AI with multiple sensors. In a few moments they had recovered several more similar pieces. There were many.
"Anything unusual?"
"The metal is titanium. It was manufactured here, by casting, in the materials fabrication plant."
"Any idea how it got here?"
"None. Conjecture is not my gift."
"How do you explain what we've seen and had shown to us today? The facts don't line up. Something is going on here and someone doesn't want us to know about it." Sam suddenly had a bad feeling. "What do you know of this?"
"Nothing."
"Integrate today's findings with the relevant dubs and speculate."
"Not necessary. There are only two possibilities. Either our observations or the recorded facts are wrong."
"You doubt the things you saw today?"
"To think otherwise implies subterfuge. I do not like subterfuge. When one cannot trust, one cannot act."
"Maybe you can't, but I sure as hell can. Take us to the Tube. Make sure we stay out off the route to the MHM. I doubt anyone is looking, but I need to keep this quiet for now."
"Understood."
Sam felt very exposed. "Are you going to rat me out?"
"I assume you are asking if I am going to file a report."
"Yes. I would rather you didn't. At least not until I have more facts."
"It is not logical to report conclusions until sufficient facts are established. The magnitude of the variance of truths in question is great. I will reserve judgment until you have concluded your investigation. How else may I assist in this determination?"
"Find out who could have made the error in imaging. Do it without identifying yourself."
"Ah, deception! A character trait I have yet to master. In a few days, I shall submit a list of errors I have detected in imaging files. There are quite a number that are outside the bounds of scientific tolerance. None are as significant as this one, but nonetheless, it is my duty to do this. In this there is no subterfuge."
Sam shook his head in wonder. The AI was more adept at deception than it realized.
However, it turned out that the errors could not be traced to a source.
As the AI put it, "It is as if the data changed itself, instantaneously in multiple data bases. Perhaps by looking at it we changed history!" They had a good laugh at that, but Sam only became further convinced something sinister was going on.
A Deal with the Devil
It was very late in the evening when he got in. The hall was empty. Compared to that in the Rollagon, the air here seemed heavy with moisture. Somewhere off in the distance he could hear a rushing sound, of water or air in motion. The streetlights glowed dimly. There was not even a street cleaning AI in sight.
He walked to his address, slowly climbed the steps, let himself into his apartment, and dropped his bag on the floor. The message waiting lamp on the phone flashed slowly. The message waiting lamp on the workstation monitor flashed too. He walked past them into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door without turning on the kitchen light. After three weeks' absence there was nothing edible, or even recognizable. He closed the door, turned and made his way to the bedroom. He dropped onto the unmade bed, kicked off his shoes, socks and pants. Home.
He lay back and was out like a light, but it seemed he had been sleeping for only a few minutes when he was awakened by voices outside in the street. From the dimness of the light he judged it still early. He opened the bedroom window, stuck his head out, and saw a group of people moving down towards the Assembly Area. He recognised one woman and shouted, "What's happening?" It was Doris Baker, a research chemist.
"They're turning on the sky!" she replied.
"What?"
She looked back with the expression of annoyance she reserved for small children and biologists, but said nothing. She turned away, then back in recognition, stopped and gestured for him to join them.
"C'mon Sam. Hurry."
He dressed quickly, but they had not waited. He caught up with them at the Assembly Area. It seemed everyone was there. Many were looking up expectantly at the ceiling of the Grand Hall. He found Doris and asked what she had meant.
"They've created some sort of lighting system that will give the Tube a sky."
As if on cue, the ceiling was at once transformed from fathomless grey to the soft dark blueness of pre-dawn on Earth. A collective gasp ros
e around him. It was brightest in the east end, darkest in the west. At first the blue was incomprehensible to their eyes, so long deprived.
Sam felt a sudden wave of something, of what—Nostalgia? Homesickness? In an instant the air above was filled with grey, fluffy altocumulus clouds. More gasps. In the east, the clouds were lit from beneath as if by a sun still beneath the horizon.
"They can make it just like home," someone at Sam's side said.
It was almost believable, but he thought the colour off a bit. And if they added Muzak it would be just like a shopping mall.
***
He returned to his apartment. While showering, he pondered his next step. Later that morning, unable to locate Ross, he wandered toward the Grand Hall past the now running waterfalls and the Assembly Area. New apartments were being constructed on both sides of the boulevard. The motifs employed varied from very plain suburbia to Parisian to Oriental.
He encountered few people in his walk. A group of four was sitting in plastek recliners at the waterfall. To all appearances they were dozing, but several had Visi-Stim viewers clamped to their heads and were no doubt deep in some simulation. No one noticed his passing. He walked on.
At the Grand Hall two persons occupying plush faux-leather recliners were intently reading their newspapers. He made small talk with one of the American geneticists about the Tube, and about the relief that everyone felt in being out of the MHM.
He looked out the window.
The view from hundreds of meters above the floor was spectacular, and probably even more so if this was all you had seen of Mars. The thin material was optically pure, almost undetectable. He pressed against it with an extended thumb, feeling a solid coolness, but nothing more. A section of the floor was made of the same stuff. Looking down past their feet to the crater floor gave one a true perspective of their location. He resolved to return at sunset, if only to share the experience with the others.
Just beyond the hall, he saw several C-types at work on the beginnings of the pond complex. At this point they were installing the forms that would be the banks and pathways. He peered into the dimness for a few minutes hoping to engage them in discussion, but they ignored him. He carried on past them into a darkened area.