Chapter Ten
Captain Littleton, constantly in touch with all the teams overnight, flies the shuttle around the various locations around the Earth where they have finished rolling out the fungi-mats. His flight plan is to pick them up in the reverse order of where he left them off.
As the sun rises, all around the first drop zone, where Kooky and Manny Garcia are teamed up. They are high in the Caucuses where they have unrolled their charge of nearly a mile of fungal mat.
Littleton and co-pilot Brittlebar fly over hundreds of square miles of the dark mushrooming surface that they know to be the billions upon billions of fungal colonies doing what they do best, replicating themselves. They’ve exploded in size to cover the horizon in all directions. When they reach the original drop zone, the outside temperature is already approaching the boiling point of water.
They spot Kooky standing on an outcropping and waving his arms back and forth mightily.
“We’re over here!” Littleton picks up his voice on board the shuttle.
“Yes, I see you. Prepare to come aboard,” Littleton informs them as he makes his final sweep to hover a few feet over their heads.
He lowers the ramp and the two spacemen agilely scramble upon it and enter the ship’s air lock. Greatly relieved, they remove their helmets and make their way to the main deck.
“Well, we completed our section. How are the rest doing?” Manny would like to know.
“They’re all complete and waiting to be picked up now,” Capt. Littleton tells them.
He lifts off and points the ship to their next pick up point, the Saint Elias mountain range. Eventually, they know that they will pick up Brett and Bailey last at their drop zone near Mt. Everest. Since it is the highest of the drop zones in elevation, it will heat up the slowest.
By the time the shuttle reaches them, they are beginning to get a bit uncomfortable. To keep from boiling like lobsters, Brett and Bailey have to turn their life-support packs to maximum, which will only last them a dozen more minutes at best.
“I can always take you out in the Intrepid,” K-9 informs them, pointing to his ship where he left it a mile away.
“Thanks, K-9. Maybe you should ‘prep’ it just in case,” Brett replies.
“Hey, Littleton, you gonna get here someday soon?” he yells into his com-link.
“We’re almost there Brett. Hang on - five minutes is all,” Littleton comes back.
“I’ve got the Intrepid prepped and on the way,” K-9 says.
“K-9, please stand down. I’m just approaching you all now,” Littleton’s voice arrives in their ear-buds.
“Yes, sir,” K-9 replies instantly and then whistles something to his ship.
They can see the Intrepid slowing down and then gently lowering back down to the ground a few hundred feet away ending any possibility of a collision with the shuttle.
They finally spot the shuttle approaching from the opposite direction. It’s a welcome sight. They wave him in. The temperature now is well above boiling point of water and climbing steadily.
The two of them hurry onto the landing ramp and into the ship, where they soon feel their space suits slowly cooling down from baking them alive to just too hot to touch. The air-lock sensors reading their temperatures, sprays a refreshing spray of water on them, causing the area to become filled with steam.
In the cabin, the other teams are all seated and enjoying their refreshments to slowly bring their body temperatures back to normal. As soon as the Captain informs them that Brett and Bailey are safely on board, they all break out in an applause that lasts several minutes.
The excitement and sense of accomplishment grows among them because Captain Littleton has shared the ship’s observational data with them as they have arrived back on board.
“Brett and Bailey,” he shouts over the din.
“Your mats are working like crazy. They’ve spread out overnight to over a million square miles. They’ve already had an impact on the oxygen levels of the atmosphere. It’s not much, but it’s measurable and way ahead of schedule,” Littleton informs them all.
Still inside the air-lock, Brett and Bailey are quickly removing their suits, gloves, helmets as they get the news.
When they finally arrive back at the main deck, they’re greeted by a huge explosion of excitement, enthusiastic shoulder slaps, hand-shakes, fist bumps, hugs and even kisses.
“It looks like you’ve done it, kid,” Major Alvindorf shouts in Brett’s ear.
“I guess. A million square miles already? That’s almost too good to be true,” Brett replies, humbly.
“K-9, we forgot all about him. Where is he?” Bailey asks, concerned.
“He’s safely on board the Intrepid,” Capt. Littleton replies from his chair.
“And where’s the Intrepid?” Brett asks.
“Take a look,” Littleton replies pointing to the rear view screen.
“There he is,” Bailey says, pointing to the Intrepid following a few miles away.
“K-9, it’s time to take us to the DNA Depository,” Brett says into his com-link.
“Yes, you have the coordinates. I’ll meet you there,” I reply.
“He says that there’s something there that he wants to show us,” Brett explains to the others.
“The plan was for sleep time now, then, to get back to the Beatle at this point, wait for the Tolkien to arrive and then assist their crews to get the secondary zones down,” Major Alvindorf says.
“Yes, I know, but they’re not due for another twelve hours or so. I think that gives us time to see what K-9 wants us to see. He wouldn’t have suggested it without a reason,” Brett replies.
“All right then, what do the rest of you want to do?” Alvindorf says, appealing to the rest of the crew standing quietly by and listening.
“I say, we do as Brett suggests. We can always get some sleep later,” Manny replies, looking around to see if he’s rightfully speaking for the others.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve been asleep for three weeks,” co-pilot Brittlebar lobs directly at him.
It gets a laugh.
# # #
The Tolkien is just a few hours away from their orbital insertion and then their secondary ‘carpet bombing’ of the Ectomycorrhizal fungi and Arbuscular fungi, now edited into what has become known as the Hightower Strain, that is designed for the most rapid recovery of the Earth’s atmosphere, and which, if successful, may become known as the greatest scientific achievement in history.
The target areas for the crew of the Tolkien are ones that were once the areas of the planet that were the most populated, the cities. To get their work done most efficiently and safely, the crew will also do their unrolling at night, and they will be mostly performed by robots, with crew members standing by in the shuttle to assist in the event that something goes awry in any of their operations.
Because the biggest cities are located in the lower latitudes, if they venture outside, even with the most advanced environmental suits yet devised, the crew will only be able to tolerate conditions for a few minutes at most.
The areas of the greatest population concentrations were chosen as the next most important to be farmed because everyone on the team agreed that the placement of a city in the past, had usually been determined for some reason of strategic import. These locations were either close to a natural harbor, where trade had been flourishing, or they sat next to the mouth of a great river where natural resources could be exploited. Or, in many cases, cities were situated simply because their location was extremely healthful, relaxing, tranquil, or for their connection to a great spiritual event.
The other part of the logic for this secondary placement of the fungal mats was that if cities were going to spring up in these locations once again, this time, at least, they would all enjoy the same, or roughly the same natural beauty. And so the hope was that this time the wonders of the Earth would be respected and preserved over any other Industrial concerns, perhaps even eternally, in any future urban designs.
The other great intention in the planning of this strategy was that the fungal matting in the Southern latitudes would quickly expand and merge with the fungal growth from the North, and when combined would become nearly one hundred percent effective with very little chance of failure.
By the time, the Tolkien starts unloading their cargo, I’ve led the crew of the Beatle to the huge portal of the DNA Depository.
They’re all amazed and astounded how the alloys have held up in the enormous heat and pressure, about the only man-made structure that has done so.
When we get inside, they are able to remove their helmets for a few minutes at a time since there is a modest amount of the old atmosphere still lingering here. I’m also reminded that the air is replenished and the temperature adjusted from time to time by the reactor’s own needs.
“We’ll only have a few minutes down here K-9,” Major Alvindorf instructs.
“I’m aware, Major,” I reply.
I’m confident that he’s referring to the fact that their shuttle waiting outside is capable of withstanding the heat only as long as its cooling system is working perfectly.
I determine by using a simple Doppler Wave Analysis of his voice that he’s highly anxious about this.
We finally arrive in front of the battery of servers and freezers that contain the molecular coding for almost every living thing on planet Earth since the dawn of time.
I don’t know what to expect but the possibilities are thrilling to me. They’re all asking me what I want them to notice. I have no answer. They’re familiar of course with the nature of this collection and how important it is. They’re also aware that the reactor’s pumps are expected to fail in anywhere from two to five years and that their next mission will be to replace the failing pumps in a few months.
I believe that they have also become aware that the re-insertion of all this life at the same moment in time would probably be a huge catastrophe. Chaos could ensue. One or two species could arise that would eat or dominate all the others and they would end up in the same soup that they’re facing now, except maybe without nearly as much hope as we have now, narrow as it is.
“Welcome to you all,” a voice behind us emerges from the gloom.
We turn around and recognize one of the greatest apparitions of all time.
“Tammy Yamaguchi,” Bailey is the first to give voice to what we all realize at once. She bows her head in greeting.
“Hello Lexie,” I say.
They all turn around and give me the strangest look of shock I’ve ever seen from them.
“Don’t be confused, everyone,” I begin.
“This is Lexie impersonating someone you all know and trust,” I continue.
“K-9, you’re not getting into the spirit of this thing,” Tammy, actually Lexie replies.
They all turn around to face the apparition of the greatest Japanese artist in recent memory.
“OK, so we all know that Tammy Yamaguchi cannot be alive today, so K-9 must be right. You’re Lexie, right?” Brett finally asks.
The beautiful glowing image of the most beautiful woman of this or perhaps any century, stands motionless for the longest ten seconds. Nothing moves, not a muscle, nor a tendon, not even a hair.
Then, just as Brett is about to ask his question again, she takes one very slow and careful step forward.
“Yes, of course I’m Lexie. I was hoping to hypnotize you all in order to gain an advantage. But, as soon as I saw K-9 was with you, I knew that this would be fruitless,” she replies graciously.
“Then, why did you continue in this impersonation?” Brett asks.
“I couldn’t think of an alternative. No matter who I choose to be from now on, K-9 will be my check and balance, isn’t that so, K-9?” she says.
“I’d have to agree with that, yes,” I reply.
“So, why are you here at all?” Major Alvindorf interjects.
“Yes, and our time is very limited and you’re taking up a good chunk of it. Everyone, I strongly recommend we get back to the shuttle before we have a major problem,” Captain Littleton puts forth.
“I just thought you might like to hear this,” Lexie tells us.
The woman that I’ve been telling everyone is Lexie, but who is portraying Tammy Yamaguchi, the great artist and biggest social icon in history straightens up, takes a deep breath and then opens her mouth so wide everyone can all see her tonsils.
The sound that comes out of this amazing woman is nothing that has been heard before. It’s the combination of all of the animals and plants inside the Depository screaming with every ounce of their being.
The human ear is incapable of hearing the full range of this noise, but the part they can hear must be impressive because they are all spell-bound. Some of them like Brett and Bailey are trying hard to decipher individual familiar sounds out of the cacophony, but I can tell they’re having trouble doing so.
Due to my Artificial Sensorial Array, my own hearing is almost unlimited so I can feel the vibrations of the screams from the most minuscule creatures all the up to the largest and even most of the plant species, who cannot scream in the sense of a vocalization, but they make sounds that can be felt by bacteria, some insects and other tiny critters. These are all included in the noise.
And it’s deafening. The crew are all holding their ears. The pressure of the sound wave is like a gut punch. They struggle to catch their breath, cover their heads with their helmets and turn their oxygen up a notch.
“K-9, this is very painful. Can you do anything about this?” Brett yells.
It’s doubtful that anyone can hear any of the others in the chaos, but I can.
“I don’t know. I can try,” I reply, already working on the problem, but I doubt Brett hears me.
At this moment, the primal scream slowly begins to fade and then transition into a slowly undulating musical wave.
It begins as a long and deep ‘Basso Profundo’. Then, it’s joined by a ‘Brass Chromatic’, then a slight ‘Fanfare Rhapsody’ comes in, then a wonderful, multi-faceted ‘Midi Invention’ enters from all sides, even from behind. At first barely audible in the harmony, an ‘Anthem Obligato’ begins to mix in very unobtrusively but confidently builds into an amazing ‘Pentatonic Pianoforte’.
It’s a creation unlike anything anyone has ever heard before on this planet and quite possibly never will experience again any time soon.
No one in the group moves around much, nor do they seem to be in any pain any longer. In fact, it’s the opposite. Their common facial expression is one of complete wonder, happiness, gleeful surprise.
I’m questioning if they’ve all been taken away somewhere by the music. I’m a little bit miffed that I appear to be immune in that way. I have gone nowhere, experiencing nothing other than the incredibly inventive music.
Lexie closes her mouth and suddenly everything stops and we’re in a completely dark and silent cavern again.
I sense the crew to be falling back into their bodies.
There’s a few seconds for their awareness to return.
“What the Hell was that?” Major Alvindorf is the first to express what they’re all feeling.
“Did you all see what I saw?” Bailey asks the group.
“I was on another planet for a minute or two there. Anyone else see that?” Brett asks, looking to Bailey.
“Yes, that was it. I was there too. It was another planet, not the Earth, but not much different in its heyday. I didn’t see any of you all there, however,” Alvin replies.
“That’s what I saw too. But with this intense music carrying me along out in Space, or someplace like that,” Co-pilot Brittlebar states, confused.
“Yes, I had that too, Ashley,” Captain Littleton agrees, checking out his hands and feet as if they’ve gone missing for a while.
“It was a message from God,” Manny Garcia mumbles barely loud enough for the rest to hear.
He’s in tears and appears to be one of the most moved of the group.
“Where’s Lexie?” Brett asks, suddenly noticing that no one is standing where she had been. It even surprises me. I never saw her leave.
“Come on, everyone. We’ve got just enough life support time to make it to the shuttle and back up into the Beatle, but not much more,” Captain Littleton notes.
“Beatle, are you standing by?” Major Alvindorf calls into his com-link.
“I am here,” the Beatle replies into all of their helmets.
When they make it back to the shuttle, Brett turns to me.
“What do you want to do now, K-9?” he asks.
It’s the first time they’ve asked me about my intentions instead of commanding me to do something.
“I’d like to stay here and assist the crew of the Tolkien,” I reply without hesitation.
“Excellent idea, K-9, but when they’re done, don’t bring them to the Depository. Just help them get back to their ship and then you remain here for the arrival of the Sitting Bull,’ he says in such a way that I must regard as an order.
“Yes, sir,” I reply.
‘So, it was nice for the brief time that it lasted’, I sigh.
“You’ve done extremely well so far, K-9. Above and beyond the call of duty,” he says with a wide grin and then disappears up the ramp of the shuttle.
“And after that, sir?” I wonder out loud, but he doesn’t hear me.
“Thank you, sir,” I reply, noting that history should record that my reaction includes a snappy salute.
I have no idea why.
# # #
As the Tolkien settles into its orbit around the Earth, the ship’s master controller, a clone of the Beatle, announces that the crew should get ready to board the shuttle, now crammed with its own cargo of one million square feet of fungi-seed mats.
“Hello, Tolkien,” the Beatle’s voice is heard on the ship’s intercom.
“Yes, Beatle,” the Tolkien responds.
“I recognize your voice. How are you?” the Tolkien continues.
“I’m fine, everything’s fine here and ‘A-OK’. How was your trip?” the Beatle asks.
On board the two ships, the crew are aware of the two ships talking to themselves without human assistance. It seems more than a little extra-ordinary, but not alarming.
“Our trip was nominal. I kept the crew alive. They’re all in good shape and ready to get to work. There was a strange doughnut shaped Cosmic Ray Burst coming from Proxima Centauri. Other than that, nothing unusual to report. How did your mission go?” the Tolkien replies.
“Yes, we all noticed that strange burst of energy. My crew just returned this morning. We can see the results of their work on this map,” the Beatle says while broadcasting a map of the Earth on their main viewing screens. As everyone watches, the screen zooms in on several spots on the Earth where the fungi-mats were installed.
“That’s an unexpected growth rate, is it not?” the Tolkien speculates.
“Yes, they’re growing ten times as fast as young Mr. Hightower predicted,” the Beatle says.
“Blah, Blah, Blah! We’ve had our breakfast. Everyone is suited up. We’re ready to board the shuttle now, Tolkien,” Sister Carrie stands up and announces.
On board the Beatle, jaws drop on almost all of the faces.
“Reverend Carrie? Is that you?” Major Alvindorf exclaims, quite surprised.
“Yes, Alvin. It’s me. You were expecting Joan of Arc?” she replies, snarking.
“I was expecting Cal Baker and the rest of his team. Is he there?” Alvindorf queries.
“I’m afraid that Mr. Baker was outvoted and my crew have taken his place,” Rev. Carrie replies.
There’s a long period of silence as the crew on the Beatle are forced to take in the news while the crew on the Tolkien are slowly boarding their shuttle for transport to the Earth.
“But, they were all fully trained on the roll-out, I thought. Do your people know what to do?” Brett asks, finally breaking the awkward silence.
“Of course we do. That sounds like Brett. It’s not Rocket Science, Brett,” she replies.
“No, it’s not Rocket Science, that’s true. But it is Biological Science. Do your people know the difference?” Brett asks, warily.
Bailey jams him with her elbow, shaking her head.
“Tsk, Tsk, Brett. That’s not very nice. Of course we know the difference. Don’t worry, Brett. I’ve interjected myself because there’s more at stake here than meets the eye. Your eyes, that is. You said once that you required an extra set of eyes to look at this thing. Now, you’ve got it. You can’t complain. Think of it as a kind of peer review,” Sister Carrie concludes and then shuts the comm-link down. She is the last to board.
The crew take their seats quietly. The doors close shut. Cabin pressure builds. The shuttle drops from the bottom of the Tolkien and gradually dives into the Earth’s atmosphere.
“Fasten your seat belts, everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy, bumpy ride,” the Tolkien suggests.
# # #
(Updated 9/19/2020 - We're always open to any editing ideas that you may want to share. Just comment or subscribe by email and give us your thoughts. Thanks)
source https://www.extinction.live/2020/09/Extinction-Human-Race.html
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