Callisto Deception Page 15

  “How did the others do it?” I said.

  “Oh, they’d come up with some brilliant strategy, but usually not for a week or so. The exercise pushed them to their limits. It forced them to be smarter, faster. Sometimes they’d rally all the fighters into the air, hiding behind a mountain, flank the Zeroes, and hope for ten to one odds in a dogfight. Other teams won on great leadership, rallying the American troops. But hacking the VR system, programming aircraft to show up without violating the Schrodinger rule, that was truly impressive.”

  “So, we passed,” Avro said.

  “You passed, and that was some stellar flying, you two,” he said, pointing at Avro and me. “I knew you were wingmen back in Vegas, but that was something else; you have an instinct for flying that I haven’t seen in a long while.” Tayler paused. “That aside, we’ve got a long way to go before we’re all acting as a cohesive unit.”

  “So, what’s next?” I asked.

  “We’ll set up another simulation tomorrow. But I say we take the rest of the day off.”

  Tayler reset the Hawaii program, and the beach house rematerialized. Kevin showed up, back from purgatory and wearing a new T-shirt showing two F-35s, facing opposite directions; a tribute to the day’s flight.

  We lounged around the house drinking beer and playing cards. The beer was non- alcoholic, and the flavor-sim questionable, but psychologically, it hit the spot.

  Serene Johnson studied me from across the room. She’d let her hair down, and all military stiffness and formality had departed from her posture. Avro and I had been chatting, but he politely excused himself to play a round of pool with Singer and Nash. Serene came over, leading me outside to the hammock hanging on the porch. A full moon rested near the horizon, creating flickering patterns on the water.

  “You’re not cocky,” she said, sitting on the hammock, and signaling me to sit.

  “Huh?” I replied, taking a seat. The hammock sagged under our weight, pressing our hips together in that awkward pleasurable way reminiscent of sitting beside a pretty girl on the school bus.

  “Pilots are cocky,” she said. “They all are, but you’re not.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I said. “You’re not cocky either?”

  “I’m not really a pilot, in the real world that is. I’m a solider. But hell, I’m cocky as shit.” She tilted her head as if engaged in deep inquisitive concentration, and then looked me in the eye.

  “What?” I said.

  “That was a joke,” she said and kicked the floor, causing the hammock to swing.

  “Ah,” I said. “Was it?”

  “Yeah, it was.” Serene pivoted her torso so that she faced me and punched my arm. Is she flirting with me? I could never tell when I was being flirted with.

  “I never liked pilots,” Serene said, chin pointed down, but eyes looking up. “They never follow the rules. Never color inside the lines. That stuff gets people killed, in the air, and on the ground. You seem like a guy who colors inside the lines.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” I said.

  “It is,” she replied, twisting back into a seated position and staring out at the sea. “It’s refreshing, and kind of dorky. When you’re surrounded by overachieving jocks, people who flaunt everything they’ve got, it’s nice to meet someone, well, normal.”

  The moon’s equator bisected the horizon, and we watched it sink beneath the waves. Serene was right. I was normal. I never wanted to be, but I was. Sometimes, I felt flat, one dimensional. No matter what I did, where I went, or what I accomplished, I was still just me, an engineer who colored inside the lines. With a dead wife and son inside a broken heart.

  A sensation on my leg; I glanced to see a hand on my thigh, and Serene nestled her head onto my shoulder. The sensation so real, so accurate. Serene’s body was miles away, yet this metaverse connected our consciousness, like telepathy. I no longer felt one dimensional and broken; I felt alive, electric.

  I thought of Marie, and immediately felt ashamed. I thought of the funeral. Would she want me to fall in love again? I concentrated on the sensations: Serene’s hair tickling my neck, and her hips touching my hips. I meditated on it, clearing my thoughts of all but the moment.

  I reached down, and held her hand. With the Milky Way glowing bright, we remained on the hammock, bodies pressed together, until we fell asleep.

  17

  Marie sat by herself in the cafeteria. It was 4 a.m. ship time and most people were still asleep in their VR suits. Her empty coffee mug hovered over the table. She reached for it, and set it down, listening to the magnetic click. This was the last meal she’d have in zero-gravity or need to fuss with aging Chinese ration packs, made doubly annoying by the fact she was eating for two. Marie looked forward to a life not confined to a VR or this cafeteria.

  A countdown appeared on the holovision: “3:29 hours until deorbit.” Marie took the last bite of a dry bran muffin and tossed the wrapper into the compost. She unclipped her legs from under the table, and floated back to the VR port for the very last time.

  Marie walked the manicured park adjacent to her office at the Center for Genetic Diversity. The park’s perfectly green grass was never more than a few inches high while flawless leaves blew in the gentle breeze. The perfection was depressing. The life she had known for the past year was only as real as this illusion

  But some aspects were more real than others. Marie had purchased art for her apartment, paintings, statues, and trinkets created by real people whose names she knew. Each piece meant something; to her, they were real. She planned to print each piece once they reached Callisto.

  Marie said goodbye to her office overlooking the park. She asked James if there was an identical structure on Callisto. He said he didn’t know.

  A bell rang and a voice spoke over distant speakers, calling everyone to the theater. Marie took a seat near the back. Hoshi stood on the stage, her image projected onto the large screen behind her.

  A growing murmur permeated the crowd until Hoshi put up a hand to silence it.

  “I wanted to thank everyone here today,” Hoshi said. “You’ve been very brave. Today we begin a new adventure, on a new world, and I couldn’t think of any other people I’d rather bring along.” The audience responded with a smattering of applause, before Hoshi continued, “In a moment, we’re going to close the Calli simulation and prepare the ship for landing. Hold on and enjoy the ride.”

  The view of the theater faded.

  A swift wind blew in Marie’s exposed face as the giant inflatable Bigelow module began to shrink. Marie retrieved her helmet per the instruction, and placed it on her head. Her suit stiffened as the ship prepared to land. Everyone was fixed to the spacecraft by their VR ports, and with their backs to the direction of travel, as the module shrank back to its original pre-inflated size.

  Thrusters fired and Marie’s stomach sank as they fell toward their new home.

  Marie stared out into space through the augmented window on her right. She watched as the spacecraft descended toward a barren and cratered surface.

  There was a clomp, followed by a jolt, and the giant ship came to rest. Marie felt a nostalgic sensation, as if from a past life. Gravity! Real gravity! Not the push from a resistor suit, or the dizzying centrifugal force where the children lived, where an adult’s feet spun faster than their head. Real gravity. It wasn’t much, only an eighth of Earth’s, but it felt significant after a year in space.

  Announcements played on the ship’s PA. “Please stay in your suits. Ring airlock pressurizing,” a male voice said. Eventually, the recording instructed: “You are cleared to remove your resistor suits. Please proceed to the outward hatch near the stern of the ship.”

  To Marie’s right, several people began climbing out of their suits. A narrow stairway filled with people slowly making their way towards the exit.

  Soon it was her turn. Marie hit the magnetic release on her suit, but instead of floating in place like before, the suit
gave way and collapsed in a heap. Marie stood on a platform, the first time she’d actually stood in a year. Diana was on her left; she’d been quiet for most of the ride, and nodded to Marie before turning and heading to the stairs. They hadn’t talked much in the past year. Most folks had exhausted their list of things to chat about months ago, and everyone was ready for a change. It was as if they’d survived a long cold winter, and this was the first day of spring.

  Marie reached the stairs and gripped the railing with one hand, setting her other on her growing belly. She stepped down, testing her balance. She wasn’t dizzy, thanks to the anti-nausea meds, but walking still felt strange.

  The passengers moved in long single files, step pause, step pause, like getting off a passenger jet. Eventually Marie came to a hatch and entered a room resembling the inside of a grain silo. The room was grey-metallic with the word “mudroom” stenciled onto the wall. Below, smaller text read “The perfect place to shake off your space-dust.” The words looked worn, probably part of an airlock used by mining colonists many years ago.

  A woman in a red vest marked “VOLUNTEER” stood on a box, waving her arms and shouting, “Children over here.” Marie pushed her way through the crowd and found the children lined up against the wall on the far side of the room. Mrs. Hanson and several other teachers were attempting to keep the kids separated by age.

  “Branson!” Marie yelled when she spotted her son.

  “Mommy!” Branson yelled back. Branson was almost four now, and came to Marie’s elbows. He had grown almost a foot since they left Earth and was also becoming quite articulate,

  “What’s a m-ud-room?” Branson asked pointing at the sign. Marie was often shocked at how much he’d learned on the Mount Everest. Their study of phonetics had several of the students reading well beyond their years.

  “I don’t know, honey,” Marie replied. “What do you think it is?”

  Branson shrugged. He wore a small canvas backpack containing one personal item: his Washington Capitals’ eagle.

  At the far end of the room, a circular hatch rolled open like a rock rolled from a tomb. Light streamed in and people flooded towards it.

  It was a strange feeling, having arrived at their destination. There were several of those on board who didn’t believe the Callisto colony existed, that they were destined to spend the rest of their lives imprisoned in the convoy, orbiting the sun, and waiting for the Earth to heal. But here they were. The Doomsdayers had been telling the truth about Callisto.

  Branson tugged at Marie’s arm. “Let’s go, Mom, let’s go!” The entrance to the Ring glowed an invigorating natural blue, the kind of light that beckoned one to go outside and experience something new.

  Marie lifted her son over the threshold, into knee high grass. Birch trees swayed in a breeze. The land sloped into a valley. Rolling hills stretched for several kilometers, beyond which must be the far wall, but every horizon looked deceivingly like, well, a horizon.

  They breathed the unregulated, unrecycled air. It was fresh, incredibly fresh, invigoratingly fresh. Marie took several steps into the habitat. Branson tugged on her arm, wanting to run. Was it correct to call this place a habitat? This wasn’t any ordinary colony; it was a whole new world.

  The new colonists spread out in all directions, some people running, jumping, stretching their legs like they hadn’t done in years. The air temperature was perfect, like a day in early fall, and Marie could smell the scent of decomposing leaves.

  The trees were incredibly tall and Marie supposed the low gravity had something to do with that. Before they arrived, the architects must have flooded the area with carbon dioxide and intense artificial sunlight, accelerating plant growth. Several of the trees were ripe with fruit and in the distance a field was dotted with cattle. Apparently, the Doomsdayers had even sent an ark ahead of them.

  Branson craned his head back, looking at the sky where birds circled on a breeze. In a nearby grove, bunnies scampered, looking for shelter.

  “Look, Mom!” Branson said, pointing at a deer bouncing amongst the tall grass, before hopping over a natural rock wall.

  They followed the crowd into the valley and Marie came to a chilling realization. Her heart skipped a beat as the implications set in. In Calli, the virtual version of Callisto, there had been houses, villages, roads, farms, and parks.

  Marie looked left, and then right, down the length of the valley. Where were the villages that would house all these people? She looked back at the hatch; thousands of people from the three ships poured through, the crowd expanding into the habitat like water from a bursting dam.

  Marie laid a protective hand over her belly, and gripped Branson tighter with her other hand. She realized why the villages weren’t there.

  They hadn’t been built yet.

  A young man ran out of the birch grove, yelling, “Hey! Hey! Over here, check this out! I found a sign!”

  Marie and Branson headed down through the grass and over hidden rocks. Dozens of other curious people followed. A tall wooden sign towered over a natural amphitheater carved by some ancient meteor impact. Several people sat on granite rocks as they craned their necks to read the text.

  “You are the first generation to arrive in this new land. The future of humanity is yours to shape. The founders, several of whom are with you this day, will be your guides, but they are not your leaders. That is for you to determine.

  They ask only one thing: That this will not be a world of drones, nor a world of AI; it will be a world of natural people, and natural minds.

  Don’t worry, this won’t be a society without technology, 3D printers have been located along the walls of this structure, and filament will flow like water. Utilities have been integrated but it will be up to you to build the houses. Callisto is a canvas, and you are the painters.

  I suggest you begin by printing tents; it will be night soon, and there’s rain in the forecast.

  God Speed.”

  “What does it say, Mommy?” Branson said as they walked away, allowing others to read the sign.

  “Didn’t you read it? I know you could.”

  “Nah,” Branson said. “Too boring.”

  “It says we need to build our own houses,” Marie said, forcing her voice to sound cheery, though she felt slightly overwhelmed by the uniqueness of this new world. Pregnant, she craved routine and stability. She also craved John. How supportive he’d been when she was expecting Branson. But now … she felt alone with her unborn.

  “Where will we build a house?” Branson said.

  “Anywhere, I guess,” Marie answered.

  “I want to live on the top of the hill!” Branson said, pointing to the top of a large rise.

  “I’ll tell you what. We can sleep up there tonight. You and I can set up a tent!”

  “I don’t know how to make a tent,” Branson said.

  “C’mon then,” Marie said with a smile, “I’ll show you.”

  Marie sat on a log in front of the tent overlooking the valley as the sun set behind the not so distant horizon. Branson was inside, sound asleep on a cot. Tents littered the valley in all directions. Somewhere by the river a few hundred people were having a party. A large fire had been prepared, and a cow had been slaughtered and roasted. The smell of BBQ wafted through the air.

  She was happy that there were people here who knew how to survive, how to live off the land. It was a skill no one she’d ever known possessed. On Earth, most of the meat was grown in a factory, without any animals ever being alive. This made Marie wonder, What kind of world will my baby be born into?

  She looked up at the night sky. She knew it was a projection. Callisto was tidally locked to Jupiter, and its days were more than 400 hours long. Jupiter rose ten degrees off the western horizon, hanging in the night sky like a massive beach ball. There were several bright stars right overhead in a formation she’d never seen from Earth. But, with some simple deduction, Marie determined exactly what they were. The brightest was the real sun,
the sky simulation dimming their host star to maintain a nighttime sky. There was a red planet, Mars; and three others: Venus, Mercury, and Earth.

  When she awoke, Branson wandered around the tent with a stick. Marie clambered out of the tent and stretched. Their high vantage point gave them a grand view of the activities in the valley below. She watched as people gathered clothing from the printing stations on the Ring wall, bringing it back to their tents.

  An engineering team wheeled several large objects from an industrial printing station. They had created an assembly area in a clearing. Large wheels were rolling out, as well as an engine block.

  Marie watched as the men assembled the machine, a tractor, or more precisely, a combine. She looked into the distance, reckoning the fields from here to the water were fields of wheat. By this time tomorrow they’d have fresh bread. A good thing to start with.

  One of the men carried a drill in his hand, its power cable snaking several hundred feet over to the nearest ring wall. With the help of another engineer, they affixed the tilling mechanism to the tractor. Marie knew this man.

  “Branson, stay here,” Marie said and then reached up to a grab an apple from a nearby tree. Marie gave it to Branson who took it and gave it a dirty look.

  “That’s breakfast,” Marie said, and marched down the hill toward the engineers.“Nice tractor,” she said, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. Malcom turned.

  “I wanted to apologize,” Marie said. “For punching you.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Malcom replied. “I betrayed you, and I feel terrible about it.”

  Marie cupped her growing belly and stared at him. “You prevented me from doing something stupid.”

  “Are you okay?” Malcom said.

  “Morning sickness,” Marie said, and turned around, climbing back towards Branson, who stood at the top of the ridge, still holding the apple.