"But the supposed purpose of the Colony is to explore Mars, not to re-create Earth."
"True, but why not do it from the comfort of the Tube? It's our home."
"Most humans do not go on the surface, ever. You and a few others are the only ones."
Sam did not feel of a mind to defend those who had made this choice freely. He took the easy way out. "Many are quite elderly and can't withstand the stress of wearing a pressure suit for surface travel and so on."
"I should like to be in a boat on a lake."
"There is no need for an AI in the boats that go on the pond. Actually, it's so shallow you could easily walk to shore if you had to."
"I should like to row myself across open water. It would be quite unusual to see a waterfall. The AIs of the Tube tell me that humans spend a great deal of time sitting by the waterfalls and on the shore of the lake. They say it is called 'recreation'."
"Yes, I have to admit it's a nice place to sit." Unconsciously, he had slipped into a patronizing speech mode, the one he used with small children. "Recreation is a joy of life; it counterbalances work; it refreshes. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?" The AI didn't bite.
"I have no recreation programmed in my life; but I feel that I could benefit from it. I feel a sense of loss that I do not have recreation, that I do not see plant life, or the non-human animals. I sense that I formerly knew of these things, but I cannot determine why this is so."
"Too bad you can't go in the Tube."
"It is my mission to be here. It is the mission of other AIs to be in the Tube. Still, even the D units are said to spend their inactive time by the waterfall. I find that strange."
"You wouldn't be fulfilling your mission if you were a lowly D. You were there when life was discovered in the void. You directed the mission. How could sitting by a waterfall compare with that?"
"The life form we discovered is more primitive than the smallest bird in the Lava Tube."
"Yes, but that was the first discovery of life anywhere but on Earth."
"But you yourself did not take joy in the discovery of that life. I recall you felt only anger and frustration when you were relieved of the task. I thought that it would be a great moment for you."
"I thought a human should have been in charge. I still feel that way. I have some fundamental differences of opinion with the management on how things should be done here."
"Yes. So I have observed."
Intrigued with where the conversation was going, Sam steered them back to the discussion on life. "Besides, I have always believed it was just a matter of time until life was discovered somewhere. Some theorists believe life is the rule and not the exception."
"It is illogical to believe that life exists only on Earth. Are you aware that the life form in the void has been found to be genetically identical to other similar lifeforms found all around the planet?"
"Yes, I am. Are you telling me that they are all related?"
"Related may not be the cromulent word. Research is underway to further characterize it. It appears very probable that it is a single entity."
"No! How could that be?"
"Apparently the fissures are connected. Some are already known to be, although the extent of this connectivity remains to be fully determined. The AIs involved intend to stimulate one life form and monitor other life forms some distance away."
"How do you know this? Who's directing the research? Is it the Genetics Group?"
"It is available on the Matrix. B118 is directing the research. The Genetics Group raised the task."
"Well, let me know how it goes."
The discussion broadened to include the progress of research into fusion, materials processing, and genetics. The AI was fully informed, or at least had such rapid access to information as to appear to be.
"Why do you know all this? You have a program and much of what you have told me is not necessary for it to be executed."
"I am programmed to explore, to expand my knowledge base, to question."
"In humans it's called curiosity. It's why we're here, I suppose."
The AI did not respond.
"Maybe you could trade jobs with some other AI."
"I will investigate that possibility. I believe that a change will be beneficial to my service."
The AI suddenly reverted to form, becoming uncommunicative, and so ended the latest of many BS sessions. They were supremely confident—some of them to the point of brashness when dealing with hard facts, policy, and procedures—but each exhibited a certain naiveté when they were treading the dangerous ground of feelings, personal opinion, and the less tangible areas of human-AI relations. They were child-like. Sam added this to the knowledge he had of AIs.
This conversation had reinforced his suspicion and conclusion that there was more to them than the sum of their electronic parts. He was about to find out.
22
September 2046
The Trip around Mars
Several weeks later he delivered a slimmed down briefing to the Executive of the Science Committee of a toned down version of his plan to circumnavigate the planet. They listened politely, giving him no sense of the outcome.
He was permitted to stay for the deliberations. The Chairman was George Sotheby, an ancient Brit who had transcended his initial job as Hab Engineer to ascend to management of the Science Committee. John Moore was also present. Their eyes locked momentarily, but otherwise Moore gave no indication of empathy.
The floor was opened to discussion. Some questioned the wisdom of a solo venture, citing that minor injuries and illnesses that would be mere inconveniences in the Tube could prove fatal if help was not at hand. Some objected to the extended duration and the high degree of risk. And some clearly felt that a man of science should be less self-indulgent.
Moore offered that if Sam was willing to accept the risks, it was better for a human to go and perhaps fail than for them to never try. From these few comments he could see where this was going. His heart began to sink.
He was startled to hear a voice emanating from a speaker on the table join the discussion, and assumed it was a member participating from off-site. The voice was initially ignored, but the room fell quickly silent. All eyes turned to the small box on the table.
"Doctor Aiken will not be truly alone on this voyage. We here on Mars and those on Earth will watch his trip with great interest—it will be fully documented. As for his safety, I think the dangers are overstated. The Rollagon is quite capable of safe transport for this extended trip. It can repair itself of all but the most crippling of failures. It can provide comprehensive medical care should that be necessary. Even if no other human decides to join him on this trek, he will hardly be alone. There are a great many AIs on the surface, some conducting research in locations along the proposed route. They will be available to assist as necessary. Additionally, the trip promises to yield many positive opportunities to publicize the research effort—which I might add, has particularly been lacking in human involvement these past few years."
Sam was both surprised and pleased by this unexpected support, whoever it was. It was certainly not Fenley, but it was no one whose voice he recognised. The brief speech was delivered in a calm and somewhat patronizing tone—this person was used to being listened to, and to getting their own way.
A discussion that had appeared to be prepared to go on for some time with an uncertain outcome came to an abrupt conclusion. Sotheby summarized. "There is an inherent risk to this venture and that risk is not inconsiderable, but the scientific and public relations values make it acceptable." That was it. The meeting broke up immediately, the members scattering in moments. Moore smiled broadly, with a hint of wickedness.
Sam was ecstatic and found it hard to suppress his emotions. Waving his cane in the direction of two chairs in the corner of the committee room, Sotheby drew him aside and brought him back to earth with an extraordinary revelation. "You are fortunate, Doctor Aiken, that A101 supports t
his adventure. I would not have been so willing to do so. There is the potential for great disaster as well as great success. I suggest you begin your preparations before the matter is reconsidered. In any event, good luck, old chap. Spit over the edge for me, will you? We will watch your progress with great interest." He pushed himself out of his chair and hobbled out of the room.
So that was the mysterious participant. An AI, and one who wielded considerable influence at the decision making level. He left elated.
In the end they did levy some additional limitations. The local area would be explored first, and then, when he had proven himself ready, the route would spiral out from the Tube. This would allow easy rescue and resupply should it be necessary, and provided a trial period when things could go wrong at lower risk. In the light of his prior travel experience these were ridiculous conditions but they were minor inconveniences to Sam's grand plan.
Despite an effort to generate enthusiasm through public expressions of support and direct solicitations by the Committee, no one chose to join him. He openly professed that he welcomed the company, but secretly he was relieved. What if the person was a poor companion? The AI, he felt, would be sufficient.
***
Sam said his goodbyes the night before to the few who he believed would notice his absence. He and Ross had lingered in the common area after others had said their goodbyes and goodnights. They were very nearly drunk.
"Well, you asked for this. I hope you're ready, man. You'll be gone for years! Fucking years, with only a goddamn AI to keep you company, and you it, by the way. I wonder who'll go crazy first. Put away all the knives and guns. Have you finally decided which Rollagon you're going to take? I know you were trying to figure out which one was the least annoying. Number 4 has a lot of klicks on those wheels." He downed his ersatz Guinness and re-filled his glass.
"It doesn't make a lot of difference. They're all about the same. If I don't like the way it speaks to me, I'll just change it. It makes an amazing difference to my morale to change that snobby Brit into a Georgia hick. As for the klicks, they seem to be indestructible. I'll probably stick with 04. The thing kind of has my smell."
"Well, old friend," Ross said, standing up. He downed his glass and slammed it back on the table. "I cannot say I don't have a tinge of envy—just a tinge mind you. You're a hell of a man and there aren't many of us left. Dmitri would be proud."
Sam poured wine into Ross's glass. He rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet and raised his goblet. "For Dmitri."
"For Dmitri. A good old boy," Ross echoed. He dropped his glass on the floor, grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him into a bear hug. "Good luck, old cock. Watch out for those big management assholes on your way. They're deeper than any crater on Mars. I'm going to go home before Mei-Ling locks the goddamn door."
"Good bye, Ross."
"Goodbye, Sam."
Sam sat back down and watched as Ross started down the boulevard towards his home. He took a dozen steps, stopped and turned. He mock saluted, "Live long and prosper, my friend."
Indecision
Due to his inebriated state Sam considered delaying his departure, but instead set his alarm for 0500 and crawled into bed. He slept the dreamless sleep of the drunk and woke a moment before the alarm was to go off.
Lying there in the darkness of pre-dawn, fully alert, but definitely feeling hung-over, he listened through the open window to the sounds of the Tube. The hiss of the distant waterfall was faint but unmistakable. The night rain still dripped from the roof. A gentle breeze moved the diaphanous curtains. He heard the rustling of the leaves in the maple tree just outside the window. Somewhere a bird chirped faintly and was answered by another. If you wanted badly enough, you could believe it was Earth, but there were no crickets and no storms—indeed, there were no undesirable anythings.
He lay there unmoving for a full fifteen minutes, just thinking. This was the worst time of day for him, the time he was most vulnerable—the time of self-doubt, when the uninvited voices poured fear and doubt into him in an effort to shape him to their will.
"This is wrong! You are wrong to do this! No one needs to do this! You are selfish! This is a waste of resources! Don't go!" The effect was akin to homesickness and it made him physically ill. He knew from long experience that the best remedy for doubt was action. He sat up and put his feet flat on the floor. The warmth of the heated tile was comforting. More doubts washed over him. He snapped on the room light, banishing all shadows, and started his day.
23
October 2046
Departures
He took only a few clothes in a small knapsack. Everything else a traveller needed was already on the Rollagon. Walking down the Tube to the hangar, he noticed a faint glow in the eastern sky. It would be a nice day here again, as it always was and always would be; sunny and warm where it was wanted, cloudy and cool where that was wanted. Breezy enough to fly a kite, if one was so inclined and simply spoke the words. No rain today, guaranteed, until 0200, but only if the soil required moisture. Nothing left to chance.
The Adit door swung open and the lights snapped on. He stepped over the sill and entered. Inside were several survey and drilling AIs, a collection of cargo sleds, two golf carts, and the three Rollagons. He had driven all of them, but from appearances the other two had seen little use. Their massive wheels showed only minor scuffing. They were truly low-mileage units. He could see an ad in the community paper: 'Rollagon for sale, nearly new, only driven on Sundays by little old ladies on trips to Valles Marineris.'
He walked around the front of 04 and was shocked to see the left rear wheel of the forward module lying next to the axle. Depleted of its pressurizing gas, it had collapsed into the shape and form of a Montreal bagel. Turning quickly he opened the small maintenance hatch on the underside of the Rollagon, pulled out the telset, and thumbed the call button. The AI answered.
"I regret to inform you that a malfunction has occurred in the rear transaxle. Major repairs are required."
"When did this happen? Why wasn't I informed? Everything was OK when I brought it in." As he spoke he walked to the rear of the HCM module. The seal and bearing were sitting on the rim of the collapsed wheel.
"The outer seal is damaged and dust has entered the axle shaft. A breakdown is inevitable. In the interests of safety, the wheel must be repaired."
Sam picked up the seal. It was damaged from being clumsily pried off the shaft; the wear could not be discerned from visual examination. Sloppy work, for an AI in particular—a standard of work that did not reinforce his confidence in the AI's ability to self repair.
"How long?"
"No replacement bearings or seals currently exist. They must be fabricated, installed, and then the axle must be tested. The Fabrication Plant is currently making toilet fixtures and must be reprogrammed to make the seal. Several days will be required, at least."
"Damn. God damn." Sam did not want to wait. His impatience was rooted as much in embarrassment as in any other cause.
"I anticipated that you would desire to depart today. I have taken the liberty of moving your personal items to 02."
"Oh you did, did you? What about all my preferences and settings?"
"All settings have been transferred. The galley has been programmed with your selections."
He mulled over waiting versus changing vehicles. He was annoyed, but he could live with it. After all, at least in theory, one Rollagon was the same as another. However, there was another more troubling issue. Over the last few years he had formed a relationship with what he had come to refer to as his AI. He had no knowledge that he had ever been betrayed. This was as loyal a friend as could be found.
He leaned against the side and considered waiting, and then he had an idea. "I would like to have you with me. Why don't you have yourself swapped with 02? That shouldn't take too long."
The AI was slow to respond, "That can be done. However, coincident with this maintenance issue, I have taken the opportunity to have m
yself transferred to the Tube. Another AI will be taking my place in this vehicle. That will not take place for six days. I regret that I will not be able to accompany you on this trip."
So that was it. Even the AI didn't want to go. "Does 02 know all about the plans, schedules and the rest of the mission?"
"Yes, all has been prepared. FYI, 02 has many fewer kilometers on it. It is logical to use a low-mileage vehicle for this extended trip."
"Are you sure you're not just crapping out on me?"
"I am not at ease with this turn of events. I was looking forward to this trip. I am conflicted between fulfilling your expectations and something else, something that I cannot fully comprehend, but the reason and necessity seem logical and appropriate. Perhaps you perceive me as disloyal?"
It was becoming more and more clear by the moment that something else was at work here. "No, I think I understand. You must do what you must do. Well. Good luck with the maintenance."
"It is a minor problem. I am sure you will find 02 satisfactory. Good luck, Sam. May you be safe on your journey and may you find fulfillment."
"I hope so. May you get to paddle around on that pond to your heart's content." Without waiting for a reply he replaced the handset, then banged his closed fist sharply, twice, against the hull. He paused a moment and pulled out the handset. It seemed like a now-or-never moment. The AI answered, "Yes? How may I be of service?"
"Who was Elise?" The AI did not respond for several long seconds.
"I know of no human on Mars named Elise, now or prior to this colony. Perhaps you are mistaken?"
"What was the name of the AI that commanded Rollagon 01?" Again there was a long delay.
"AIs do not have names. I am aware that humans have provided us with so-called nicknames, such as Limey Bastard, but we have no need of names. Perhaps Elise was the nick-name of that particular AI."