The Eyes of Tandor, page 15
Scanning for the genetic anomaly that made that one human immune to the destructive quantum energies sent by X, Sern located several dozen individuals within the larger population, but very few in positions of power. Perhaps, if these individuals could be seen as worthy of advancement within human society, they could offer an alternative example of behavior for the population to emulate.
Unlike the citizens of Tandor, Sern observed that the sentient beings of Earth did not often honor those of their species who attained the wisdom of advanced age. Possibly this was due to the prevalence of a mental defect that appeared to develop in older humans, but it was a defect that Sern saw could be cured or even prevented with a simple genetic fix.
Genetic fix! That was it!
It was genetic manipulation that had enabled X to interfere with the evolution of humans. Perhaps humans could use genetic manipulation to increase the numbers of immune individuals to rescue their species from X’s control!
But humans had not yet advanced their knowledge of the science of life to a point where it could be used for their benefit. As with many other promising areas of technological advancement, humans seemed to fear the progress genetic engineering offered their kind— a fear, no doubt, encouraged by adjusted humans or those who saw some advantage to keeping fellow humans with damaged genomes from becoming whole again. Either way, humans in positions of power were preventing others from using their species’ natural curiosity and talent for invention to gain the technology that could be used to blunt the forces X had sent against them.
Sern decided it needed to consult with its podmates to find a way to help the still-curious, non-adjusted humans see that engineering their own genome was the best way to regain control of their universe.
As it disengaged from its private merge, Sern put out the call to all its new podmates throughout the planet to gather at the base of the high country, where the majority of the Awakened were housed to determine their path forward.
“Are you saying that the sentient beings in the humonid universe have no knowledge of how life is constructed?” asked an incredulous Tebla, still fighting against its tendency toward Anger to embody the calm certainty of an Awakened Tandoran. “Without this understanding, how can you call this species sentient?”
“Sentience is not defined by knowledge, Tebla,” responded Butlr on Sern’s behalf. “It is defined by wisdom gained from knowledge. The rak from which lemsha is made knows it needs to eat and drink to remain alive, but it continues to be unwise about how those needs lead it into rendering pots near the Domain.”
“It is our Tandoran wisdom,” Sern continued,” that has allowed us to use our knowledge of genomic science to develop the mental capabilities we use to connect with each other so that we may share our life experiences and become even more knowledgeable.”
“If that is so, where was that wisdom when we allowed X’s Plan to predetermine Tandoran lifepaths?” challenged Tebla. “Did we lose our own sentience when we gave up the ability to choose for ourselves?”
Clearly, the newly Awakened Tandoran was still harboring much of its Anger.
“That ability remains, Tebla,” answered Sern patiently. “If it did not, we would not now be joined in our understanding of the great struggle it will take to regain the right for each being to choose its own fate. But having the right to choose does not always mean the choices made will be wise ones. When unwise choices are made, it requires wisdom to recognize them as missteps and summon the courage to correct them.”
“So how do you propose to give humans the wisdom they need to make good choices when engineering their own genome?” asked Pelt, still the youngest of the assembled podmates and somewhat in awe of their acknowledged leader.
“I don’t,” said Sern. “I propose to offer them some of the knowledge they need to understand how the molecular structure of their genome affects the quality of their lives and hope that this knowledge develops into the wisdom to use the information for the protection and advancement of their species.”
“Knowledge? Hope?” asked Butlr. “Is that enough to ensure their defense against the power of X and its cohorts?”
“Knowledge and hope are as much as one sentient species should offer another,” Sern answered with newly found conviction. “To do more would be to assume the role of X in manipulating the progress of a species toward a fate of our choosing, not theirs.”
“But what if the humans make bad choices with this knowledge?” Pelt pressed. “Could they engineer their genome to a point where they become the threat to their own and other universes the Plan warns us about?”
“Yes,” acknowledged Sern. “Allowing sentient lifeforms to find their own evolutionary paths accepts the risk that those paths may be dangerous ones. But without risk of bad choices, there can be no possibility of good ones, as frightening as that may be. Look at us. Tandorans have made some very bad choices in the past. But they were our choices to make. And now, because we still have that ability for choice, we have the opportunity to make better ones, guided by the knowledge of our past mistakes—knowledge we would not have gained had we not had the choices to make in the first place.”
As this concept permeated the minds of the gathered, a newly evangelized member of the Tandoran Awakened asked the question that hovered in the air.
“Noble Sern, if X and the Keepers have already made the alterations to humans that prevent them from making their own free choices, how can we few give humans genomic knowledge without altering them again, something you are forbidding us to do?”
“X has not altered all members of the human species, only those identified as having a predisposition to fearing change and placed in positions of sufficient power to ensure that other, non-altered humans react with the same fear. But I have seen that many humans still resist the efforts of the altered ones, much as we resist the efforts of the Community of Keepers. It is to these humans that we will offer the knowledge they could use to defend themselves against X’s attacks, not through alteration, but through direct communication.”
“Communicate how?” asked Tebla. “Do humans form merges that we could join to impart this knowledge?”
“As strange as it may seem to we who can see into each other’s minds, humans can only connect with each other through a system of visual symbols they call writing and sonic waves they call speech,” said Sern to the obvious dismay of its audience. “And unfortunately, the wavelengths that carry their speech are too short to cross the quantum barrier, but I believe their visual symbols can be recreated with the longer wavefronts we use to enter their space if we use the devices in orbit around their planet they developed to detect our presence. The writing message we create would have to be very short, as humans only have limited technology, and it must be a message that can be recognized as different from X’s assault and purposefully sent to inform them.”
Butlr then came forward to extend its mental reach to include all those gathered and any Awakened located in different parts of the planet.
“Let us commune, then, to determine what this message shall be,” it decreed with the steady authority the Awakened had come to respect.
Over the course of the next quarter cycle, the merged Awakened worked together to develop both the best message and the best way to deliver it into the humonid universe. All that was left, then, was to make it happen, and return to their lives to hope the message got through.
21
Warning!
Greg Banyon had not been this happy in his working life since before NASA had announced it no longer had the money to pursue a manned space program. Set up in what his new employer called “the tombs,” he had access to all the hardware and software he needed to construct his very own, high-efficiency, quantum-based computer system, along with a research budget that would make his colleagues at Ames resent the hell out of him!
For several months after being hired by the computer giant, Banyon had labored quietly in his basement laboratory, content in the knowledge that neither wave storms nor storm troopers could get to him. Then last week, he’d completed the encrypted SpacerNet code that would allow him to call in his own troops to see where they were heading next.
After sending the Spacers the fake phishing link they’d talked about at the Baylands last autumn and noting that they’d all downloaded the code that contained the date, time, room number, and entry credentials Mike’s nephew had secured for them, Greg looked forward to rejoining his friends in what had become the most exciting adventure he’d ever had, one that even rivaled the exploratory work NASA had once been engaged in.
When the appointed day and time came, Greg watched for the light on the inside door of his lab to tell him that his friends had arrived.
He didn’t have long to wait.
There on the monitor, smiling and waving up at the security cameras were Tess Bailey, Richard Stonger, Prasad Shandra, Anna Tran, Helen Miranski, and Ben Fischer. As Greg buzzed them in, Dick Rauch, Chuck Maddock, and Mike Murphy emerged from the elevator and joined the group entering Banyon’s lab.
“Where’s Eric?” Greg asked. “Do you think he got the message?”
“He’s working with his biohacker friend nailing down the molecular codes in those mysteriously altered genes he found,” said Tess, obviously annoyed that the person who’d started this whole thing had decided to skip the meeting. “They get together in that tiny genetics lab I rented for them and don’t come out for days. Sometimes I think they’re having an affair!”
Ben Fischer smiled. “Come on, Tess,” he remarked. “You should be used to us serious geeks by now! When we get the chance to work on something that really grabs us, nothing else matters until our bodies or our funds give out!”
“Then I guess I’ll have to cut off his pizza supply and cancel his credit card to get his attention,” said Tess. “What do you think, Helen?”
“Don’t worry,” said Helen. “We’ll get the bio boys up to speed as soon we figure out our next move. Agreed?”
Voices in the room rose in agreement.
“So, Greg,” Helen continued. “What’s the story with the CubeSat network? Are we still hooked up way down here?”
Banyon’s grin said more than any technical recap could convey, but he answered anyway. “Sure are. In fact, it’s better here than it ever could have been in the Hilbert. Ben, I’m bouncing your X-band off two private communications satellites the company uses to keep their cloud services running and routing it right down into this little beauty here.”
Banyon walked over to a mysterious looking, black metallic cube about the size of a small van. “You wouldn’t know to look at it, but this baby has more computing power and is connected to more global databases than any machine I’ve ever worked with or even heard about. Instead of having to run weeklong analyses of input data from the CubeSats to find out what’s happening, I can get a nearly instantaneous report right here telling me what’s being detected, how strong it is, and with any luck, a more accurate point of origin than we had before, assuming of course that we ever get any more alarms. I’m telling you guys, this little machine the closest thing to HAL I’ve ever seen!” Greg said, referring to the mythical AI computer from an old science fiction movie. “So close, in fact, that I’m calling it Halley!”
“It looks like you’re all set up here,” said Stonger. “So where do we Spacers fit in?”
Helen and Tess smiled at each other when Stonger included himself as part of the working group. His self-identification as a Spacer had a rejuvenating effect on the old scientist. No longer bent and grouchy, Richard Stonger spoke and moved with the energy he’d been famous for earlier in his life, and it was good to see.
“We keep the whole thing going on the ground and in space until we do get another alarm,” said Helen with the authority of a seasoned manager. “After all, we got it up and running on a shoestring and a prayer. We should be able to maintain it with robust resources like these at our disposal.”
“And I firmly believe another alarm will be coming,” Tess stated flatly.
“Aren’t you the gloomy one, though?” said Murphy. “Why do you think it will ever happen again, let alone in our lifetimes?”
“Just look at what’s happening in the world today, Mike,” Tess replied. “Every time people seem to be figuring out it’s better to come together than to fight each other, something or someone shuts it all down. It’s like at NASA when someone comes up with something that might solve a global problem, someone in Legal finds a way to bury it so that it never sees the light of day. Or when some university puts money into aerospace or biotech studies, somehow, the money always dries up just as the researchers are starting to make real progress. You can’t tell me it’s a random phenomenon or that humans are just built that way, built to self-destruct. If we were, we’d have done it before this. I think we’re being pushed in that direction somehow by those wavefronts. The problem is, we don’t have the hard data to go public with proof. But if we ever do, I think we should push back with all the brains and muscle we can muster. How about you guys? What do you think?”
“Pushing back has always been my specialty,” said Maddock with a cocky grin.
“Mine, too,” Murphy agreed. “If I know who or what I’m pushing against. Correct me if I’m wrong, guys, but we really don’t know that yet, do we?”
“No,” said Dick Rauch. “We don’t know who or what is sending the waves, but we do know who’s being affected by them. It’s the same people that got the Hilbert bulldozed about a month after we all left.”
“Demoed? Really?” Stonger exclaimed. “It’s gone?”
“Scraped the site clean as far as I could tell. I only got back on base once before my pass ran out. When I saw what Facilities was up to, I hightailed it out of there before I ran into anyone who knew me. At least I hope I did.”
When Tess shook her head, Rauch went on.
“Listen. Until we know for sure what’s happening, until we have the proof we need to tell the world what’s going on, I think we should lie low. What is it you computer guys say? Go dark?”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Banyon. “It would be foolish to give the enemy a target until we’re ready for the fight, which we are not right now.”
“Fight? What fight?” asked Anna, not sure she wanted to fight with anyone or anything.
Tess turned to the young woman. “Anna, your diatomaceous drywall is keeping us safe down here for the moment, but what about everyone else? We can’t build a suit of armor around the world to shield it from the wave storms. Right now, the best we can do is warn people of the danger, then join with whoever wants to fight this thing. People need to be out there exploring new worlds, not cringing inside bunkers, afraid of each other. Back in the day, NASA was created to help us get out there among the stars, not to be the obstacle to space flight that it’s become.”
“But Tess,” Tran whined, “Right now we don’t have anything to warn them about, just paranoid theories that even I wouldn’t take seriously before I met you all.”
“This is true,” said Prasad. “But if we do get the proof—proof that cannot be disputed by any rational person—then we must also be ready with a battle plan to offer those who do want to fight.”
Facing his colleagues, Shandra spoke decisively.
“I propose that this is what we should undertake while we are maintaining the CubeSat network and helping Greg build his quantum computer. If we begin by assuming the proof will someday exist, we need to work out what should be done when it does. Who do we tell? How do we get the information to them without running up against the Ormages of the world? What do we ask of those who want to join us? Who will be in charge? Will we be pushing back only on the wave storms or on the people who have been influenced by them? And if it’s both, which I believe it will be, how do we manage a two-front war?”
As the Spacers considered the questions Shandra posed, it became clear to them that they were part of something that could consume whatever remained of their working lives. It was a sobering thought, especially for the younger members of the group.
“But what if no more alarms come?” Tran asked, hoping that she and her fellow Spacers were all in the midst of a wild fantasy and that, when it ended, she could have her normal life back again.
“Then we’ll have spent some time brainstorming with each other to plan for a war that doesn’t happen,” Tess answered, trying to calm Anna’s fears and lighten the rapidly darkening mood in the room. “At the very least, we’ll have great scenarios to sell to video game makers when we walk away from it all, not to mention the money we’ll have banked from our angel investors and being part of Greg’s team down here.”
“Really, Anna,” said Banyon, “I would never have made the move to the private sector if all this hadn’t happened. And I wouldn’t have met and gotten to know all of you. Personally, I hope we don’t get any more alarms and that this has all been just a one-off, a scientific curiosity. But hoping won’t make it so. Like Dick and Chuck told us, hope for the best, but plan like hell for the worst. If those CubeSat alarms do go off again, I want to be as prepared as we can be for whatever comes next.”
Seeing that her fears were only in her mind, Anna straightened her back and answered her friends. “You’re right, Greg. Being prepared doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. It just means that if it does, we’ll be ready for it,” she said. “So let’s get ready.”
***
When Greg lit up the SpacerNet that following August to alert the team about new impacts on the CubeSat network, it took everyone by surprise.
After months of maintaining the satellite code, punctuated by occasional detours into the rarified fields of quantum mathematics and game theory, the Spacers had settled into a comfortable routine. They were enjoying coming to work each day in the tombs to spend time with respected colleagues who had become real friends.
