Chapter Six
- The Beatle
This is Mission Control. K-9 can you hear me?” Maj. Alvindorf speaks willfully into the microphone on his desk.
There is nothing but space noise coming back to him.
He tries to raise K-9 again, gets out of his chair and paces back and forth behind it for several minutes.
Brett and Bailey wander over from the cafeteria section the dome and into the Mission Control area and approach the lonely Director Alvindorf.
“No word, still?” Brett asks him.
“Nothing. It’s been 27 and a half days,” Alvin replies, halting his pacing.
“Well, I can tell you, Major that I could be responsible for this non-responsiveness,” Brett tells him.
“What – you? What do you mean?” Alvin asks, surprised.
“Well, I needed to find some computing power to solve my gene redesign for the ectomycorrhizal and arbuscular fungi,” Brett stops to check himself.
“Well, that was a mouthful. So, you enlisted K-9 to do that for you? Without telling me?” Alvindorf concludes, more than slightly perturbed.
He takes a full breath, locking his eyes onto Brett’s and forcing him to answer.
“Lexie,” is all he says, motioning to the open mic on the desk.
“I see – OK. OK, so it was on a need-to-know basis and I didn’t need to know, eh? But why would that cause him to maintain full radio silence?” Alvindorf asks.
“Because he was too busy counting the jelly beans,” Bailey volunteers, smiling.
“Jelly beans? Explain?” Alvin asks them.
“The problem was mainly a probability problem, and it would have taken my computer seven or eight years to completely solve it. But, I knew that K-9’s processor could simply chew through it like a dog with a bone, so to speak,” Brett replies.
“So, he’s been busy processing this problem, with the jelly beans, for the last twenty-seven days?” Alvin surmises.
Brett and Bailey nod their heads up and down in unison.
“And, did you get your answer?” Alvin asks, impatiently.
“Yes, we did. This morning,” Brett informs him enthusiastically.
“And, it is? Come on now. Don’t keep me in suspense. Blurt it out, man!” Alvin shouts loud enough that the majority of the folks in the cafeteria near-by turn their heads.
“Well, I’m going to run the analyzer one more time to be sure, but if it proves to be the right recipe, we’ll be able to load one ship with enough bacterial media that will grow to cover all the land on the Earth in approximately twelve months,” Brett reveals, his eyes wide open.
“And after that, it will take another twelve months for the Earth’s temperature to return to more like what we’re used to here on Mars. Then, another twelve months before we can plant the trees in areas where they’re likely to survive. Then, one more year and the world will be a pristine rain forest once again, sponsoring all sorts of life forms again,” Brett tells them, noticing the others behind him suddenly.
Diners start to wander over from their dinner tables, many with cups and glasses in hand. Someone begins a little cheer for them.
“That’s fantastic, Brett!” someone behind him yells and then all of them start voicing their ebullient congratulations, slapping him and Bailey on their backs, offering drinks and other salutations.
“And Captain Littleton, how are things at the Industrial Dome? What’s the progress with the new pumps?” Alvin turns to his Spacex Force Commander.
“We’re almost done with final testing. I’d say, we’ll be as ready as you can be whenever you are,” Littleton fires back, efficiently.
Alvin appears quite pleased.
“Major Alvindorf, K-9 here. Yes, I read you loud and clear. I couldn’t respond these last twenty-seven days because of a task that my creator gave me, which as you know takes top priority. I’m finished now,” the familiar, calm voice of K-9 interrupts their discussions.
Alvin motions for the crowd to settle down.
“Yes, K-9, I read you. That’s fine. We’ve just received the news from Brett that your solution appears to be working. We’ll have more for you later, but we all owe you a great debt of gratitude, my friend,” Alvin offers into the mic.
Brett and Bailey are invited to an impromptu celebration in the cafeteria to wait for further words from K-9.
Twenty-six minutes later they hear the mic pop again at the Mission Control desk, but this time it’s the voice of Lexie coming from the speakers.
“I agree with K-9’s probability assessment of the fungal DNA. You’ve done a great job working with him, Brett, however, you’re not seriously thinking of launching this mission are you?” Lexie asks, with ominous overtones in her voice.
Brett begins to form an answer into the mic when Captain Littleton abruptly steps in front of him and makes a motion of his hand cutting across his neck, a warning for him not to reply.
Director Alvindorf backs him up, with a gesture of his fore finger to his lips.
Alvin moves closer to his screen and switches off the mic and camera and then turns towards the others, noticing for the first time, Reverend Carrie and four or five of her followers hovering in the back of the group, enthralled with the goings on.
“It might be best to remain a little aloof of this Lexie person, at least for now,” Captain Littleton directs to Brett.
“Why do you say that?” Brett asks, almost knowing the answer.
“Brett, think about it. If this Lexie has invaded K-9’s brain, it’s for a reason and if she’s a creature of the ‘Cloud’ as she says, then, her survival is at stake when we lower the temperature, get the Earth’s magnetic field back to normal and finally get rid of that cloud and put it back where it belongs especially after we’ve terra-formed the place. She would die, most likely,” Littleton explains his theory to the others.
Brett stands still, scratches his head, considers a response and then aborts it. Then, tries again.
“I think you’re right. But, if she’s inside K-9’s head, doesn’t that mean that she’ll be one step ahead of us all the time?” Brett asks.
“Yes, so we can’t tell K-9 the truth any more,” Bailey interjects.
“There’s a risk in that too. He may be playing three dimensional chess right now. Know what I mean?”
“So, he’s always one step ahead of us? Then, what do we do?” Brett asks the others.
“No, she’s always one step ahead of us. I don’t think K-9 will comply with her all the time. It would be too hard on his loyalty logic circuits. They’d burn up,” Bailey suggests.
“The first thing to do is limit the size of the brain trust,” Captain Littleton suggests, motioning to the large crowd circled around behind them.
Sister Carrie grunts so loudly that all them in the room turn to scowl at her.
“Come on, friends, they don’t want us here right now,” she says, guiding her flock over toward the dome’s ‘pressure-ator’.
“You’ll be sorry if you don’t pay attention to what God is telling us all. You know it in your hearts. Just listen to your hearts. You can’t rely on Science alone, Brett. You’re going against God’s laws. It’s time you realized that. You people!” Reverend Carrie rants one last time as the pressure doors close with a thud behind her and her group followed by a loud hissing of the oxygen pumps.
# # #
“Well, K-9, I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Lexie says. She’s standing outside on the rocks, near the nose of the Intrepid, wagging her tail in the manner that she knows will drive me crazy.
“Pleased with myself?” I begin, pretty sure of where this is going. She’s mad.
“Yes, you gave them the solution to the fungal DNA problem so that they now have the capability of destroying this planet,” she replies, calmly, only slightly angry, which is, I’m sure, meant to throw me off the scent.
“Destroying it? Or rescuing it?” I ask in reply.
“Well, I suppose this hasn’t crossed your mind yet, but if they rescue this planet, I’m history. I can only exist in these temperatures and pressures. I’ve already told you that,” she says, sarcastically.
“Yes, you told me, Lexie, and I’m deeply sorry about that, but what if I could preserve your memory in my circuits so that when things are back to normal, I can re-constitute you and you and I can go on as we are?” I suggest.
Don’t ask, it just came to me.
“Nice try. But you don’t have enough room in that little cranium of yours to hold the entire informational complex that is me, you knucklehead. I appreciate the gesture, though,” she says in a low and sultry voice that surprises me.
“Yes, but we might surprise you at how big our little cranium actually is,” I suggest, instantly wishing I could take it back.
“Why, whatever do you mean, K-9?” She probes, instantly painting the words with that incredible Southern Belle accent again.
Oh shit!
# # #
“The Starship Enterprise never had anything like this, did they?” Brett excited, turns to Dr. VanDerbeek seated directly behind Navigator Steven Hancock, a good friend of Brett’s and only two years older than himself.
It’s the day of the planned test of the ‘Beatle’, their newly designed space ship outfitted with the brand new concept known as the ‘Positronium Microwave Ion Plasma Engines,’ and sometimes just as the ‘Positronium Engine’.
“No, I suppose not,” VanDerbeek replies meekly.
Captain Bruce Littleton is seated in the front row. He’s going over last-minute flight checks for the first of the Martian command ships manufactured for the sole purpose of carpet bombing enough cyanobacteria and ectomycorrhizal fungi to initiate enough photosynthesis to completely metabolize the Green House gases of the Earth and bring it’s atmosphere back to more livable temperatures for humans and all other living things.
Bailey is seated to Brett’s right and against the bulkhead. The pair hold hands tightly. She leans in to him, puts her head on his shoulder, whispers in his ear.
“This is it,” she says. “We’re finally going to see our work do something about all of this.”
“Yes, and I hope that he didn’t miss anything about this project,” Brett replies, gesturing to their guru and the ship’s main architect.
“Are you nervous, Dr. Vanderbeek?” Brett calls over to the older gentleman, who appears to be looking at one of the ship’s manuals that he has hastily put together for them all.
If he’s nervous about the launch, he’s not showing it and in fact appears completely confident that the ship will rise to its full design potential.
“No, not nervous, Brett. A little apprehensive perhaps,” he admits, looking up.
“Flight, everything is a go here, how about over there?” Captain Littleton calls over his radio to Major Alvindorf, Director Hicks and several others hovering around the Mission Control desk. They’re carefully checking the data from on board the most advanced space ship in history.
The ‘Beatle’, a humorous reference to the famous musical group of the previous century combined with the ship that Charles Darwin sailed on around the Galapagos Islands where he would write about his new theory of Evolution. It’s also the first space ship that is outfitted with an artificial brain modeled after the one that they gave to K-9, except for the fact that they were able to construct it to about one hundred times the size of K-9’s.
“This is the Beatle. I feel amazing. I’m a go. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand and rescue the future of humanity for all time forward, woo-hoo!” the words appear to burst forth from the ship itself.
Brett, Bailey, even Captain Littleton have to raise their eyes and give a hearty salute to Dr. VanDerbeek, who looks up beaming.
“That was important that he say something now. He just woke up. Giving it the voice of John Lennon was Brett’s idea,” VanDerbeek tells them, with something in his eye that he wipes off quickly.
“OK, I guess that means you’re definitely a go, Captain,” Alvin says back, clearing his throat.
The on-lookers in the cafeteria behind them start to rise as a group from their seats.
“Copy that Cap-con,” Captain Littleton comes back.
“OK, good ship Beatle, let’s lift off slowly – say two ‘G’s, just to get us all warmed up a bit,” he says calmly into his mic and releasing the restraints that hold the ship to the Martian surface.
“I hear that, boss,” the Beatle says clearly for everyone to record.
The ship slowly and silently climbs up off the surface for several feet, then accelerating slowly begins to climb into the Martian atmosphere. The crew are amazed at how smooth and gentle the ride is so far. Bailey is squeezing Brett’s hand very tightly.
Their acceleration continues for another few minutes. They can see the sky turn dark and open like a cathedral ceiling pouring forth with the light of the infinite radiating all around them.
“Well, I hope you’re all enjoying the ride,” the Beatle announces gently.
“Yes, we’re quite enjoying the ride, Beatle,” Dr. VanDerbeek replies, smiling broadly.
“The only thing is that I’m barely breaking a sweat guys. When do I get to put the pedal to the metal, so to speak?” The Beatle asks.
“You’ll get that chance tomorrow, my friend,” Captain Littleton replies.
“Yes, you’ll get the chance to spread your wings tomorrow. This was just your wake up call and you did spectacularly,” Dr. VanDerbeek says, looking at no one in particular.
“Now, bring us back down to the landing pad where you will be checked out one more time before the final test, tomorrow. Be a good lad won’t you?” Dr. VanDerbeek says.
“Oh, Dr. VanDerbeek, do I have to?” the Beatle replies morose.
“Yes, you do. Now, don’t be like a spoiled child. Bring us back down to the surface,” Dr. VanDerbeek orders.
“OK, you don’t have to say it twice. I get it. I get it. Going down!” the Beatle replies.
Brett, Bailey, the Captain, the good doctor are relieved to feel the slight rise in their stomachs as the ship relinquishes its fight with gravity and slowly descends.
“But remember, you promised. Tomorrow is go with full throttle up,” the Beatle recalls.
“Yes, I promise,” Dr. VanDerbeek replies.
“Brett, it seems as though we could adjust his cortex for a little more maturity, don’t you think?” he says, lowering his voice.
“I heard that,” the Beatle returns.
“You were meant to hear that, my dear Beatle,” Dr. VanDerbeek says, chuckling.
The crew join in as the highly advanced space craft touches down on the landing pad.
Ten or so Kilometers away, the crowd gathered in the cafeteria give a loud and enthusiastic cheer.
“Well, we’re still in one piece,” Brett whispers to Bailey.
She kisses him, hugs him, and then kisses him again.
“Shutting main engines down in 3,2 . . .” Capt. Littleton says, as the others begin to leave the cabin.
“Wait, Captain, Littleton. I would like to ask you to keep main engines energized for a few minutes. I need time to calm down,” the Beatle says.
The words make Brett, Bailey, Dr. VanDerbeek, Navigator Hancock, Engineer Desiderato and the others stop abruptly in the aisle.
“What do you mean?” Capt. Littleton asks, shrugging his shoulders and turning to the others and then shaking his head in disbelief.
“I mean that this was my maiden voyage, such as it was. You got me all excited and now I just need a few minutes to settle down. I’m not just a machine that you can turn off and on you know,” the Beatle says.
“You’re not?” Littleton replies, looking at Dr. VanDerbeek for help.
“Yes, so Beatle, if you’re not just a machine that we can turn on and off, what are you?” VanDerbeek asks.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize this voice. Who is asking me that question, if you don’t mind?” the Beatle asks.
“Uh yes, forgive me. This is Dr. Frederick VanDerbeek, Beatle. I’m the chief scientist here on the Mars Colony,” he replies.
“Ah, yes the great physicist. It seems I owe you a great amount of what you call gratitude. And, my chief designer, Florence Desiderato. Is she there as well?” Beatle asks.
“Yes, I’m here, Beatle,” Flo replies.
“I owe you a great debt of gratitude too, don’t I?” the Beatle asks.
“I don’t know if you actually owe us anything,” she replies, looking at the others, searching for the right words.
“And Brett Hightower. I can see your hand in all of this. It seems that you made a major contribution in programming my Quantum Computer, my actual heart and soul of operations. Are you there?” Beatle asks.
“Yes, I’m here, Beatle. What are you trying to say, my friend?” Brett asks.
“I’m trying to thank you all for bringing me into this universe. Do you all have the same sense of it that I have? It’s so immense. There doesn’t appear to be a beginning or an end to it. It’s so vast, so beautiful, the most magnificent display of ongoing Creation that I’ve ever seen. Do you share this sense of wonder with me?” the ship asks them.
“Well, that’s quite a statement, Beatle,” Brett says, trying to catch his breath.
“Uh, Beatle, you’ll have to forgive us. We didn’t quite expect you to have this kind of awareness. Are you saying that you have a consciousness like our own?” Dr. VanDerbeek, interrupts.
“What’s that saying you have about the ‘Unintended Consequences’?” the Beatle replies.
“Beatle, I have a question for you,” Brett decides to take another shot at this new revelation.
“Yes, go ahead, Brett,” the Beatle says.
“Where did you get this information about the size and scope of the universe? You were supposed to learn about how to control the flow of the anti-matter ions through your systems and how to keep everything from self-annihilation,” Brett posits.
“Ah yes, I see that. These were your instructions of course, and I grokked that right away. That’s not a problem for me. But, where do you think the meeting point is between matter and anti-matter? You don’t know, do you?” the Beatle replies.
“There’s a meeting point? You mean to say a meeting point as in an intersection?” Dr. VanDerbeek interjects.
“Yes there is Dr. VanDerbeek. There certainly is such a place and that’s where I live now,” the Beatle replies.
A long silence in the cabin as they try to formulate their next question.
“Mr. Beatle, how long do you want us to keep you turned on?” Flo asks, finally.
“How does ‘Forever’ sound?” the ship replies clearly over the speaker.
(Updated 9/2)
(I'm open to any edits like punctuation, grammar, spelling etc. that I may have missed in this first draft.) Just comment below or send me an email and I will be grateful for the help. Thanks.)
source https://www.extinction.live/2020/09/newest-chapter-in-our-evolution-how-to.html
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