Perpetual Winter: The Deep Inn (15 page)

              Louis turned to the tied companion. “Who are you? Where are we?” he asked, in Portuguese.

              “Quoi?” retorted the other. “Parle-toi français?”

              He was French. No. He was from Quebec. Louis looked at his hands and he had all of his fingers. He must not be Marcé.

              “Toi, tu parle français oú quoi?” the Gaul insisted.

              The other prisoner, who was to the left of the Frenchman, began coughing and became agitated. The Frenchman turned to him, vociferating, “Éveille, éveille. Attention a ne pas vomir. C’est dangeraux. Éveille.”

              “What the fuck is this?” the other responded. “Is this some kind of joke? Where the hell?”

              That one was American. Louis was in a scatological version of the United Nations or something like it. He heard women’s voices. They twisted to free themselves from the straps.

              “Hey, people,” said the American. “My name is Andrew, and I’m from Houston. I count seven people in here. Let’s say our names and country and who speaks and doesn’t speak English.”

* * *

There weren’t seven. There were eight. Andrew had forgotten to count himself. They all spoke English. Five were Americans, one was Australian, one French, and the other Portuguese. Andrew Kline, thirty-four, from Houston. Steven Boyd, thirty-seven, from Minnesota. Sofia Suren and Mariah Dexter, both twenty-one, from South Carolina. Larissa Mayamba Lee, twenty-eight, daughter of an Angolan mother and American father, from Harlem, New York. Caroline Furst, twenty-five, from Brisbane, descendent of Germans, whose language she spoke fluently, currently living in Oxford. Louis Marcé, who turned twenty on that day, but didn’t know it, from Lisbon. And finally, Pierre Tollmache, twenty-nine, from Lille, living in Paris.

              Louis quickly realized that none of them were wanted by the police and that they were all specialists in complex matters. Steven was a geologist and NASA pilot who had quit because of a conflict with three colleagues that the hierarchy had not been able to resolve. Andrew was an aerospace engineer specialized in photovoltaic energy and had a doctorate in data security. Sofia and Mariah studied exobiology and were experts in guided plant evolution and fungal symbiosis. Sofia had also specialized in extremophile genetics. Caroline, as blonde as Mariah, was an engineer specialized in miniaturized manufacturing units, specifically 3D printing applied to industrial purposes and historiography in her off hours. Pierre had done his undergraduate in mathematics and had a doctorate in game theory and data analysis. Larissa, a physics engineer, was nothing less than the most promising black female engineer dedicated to nuclear fusion in New England.

              Louis hesitated to say what he did because all of the others were geniuses. He said that he was probably there by mistake.

              “You said ‘by mistake’? That’s not the question,” Steven Boyd said. “What do you do with your life?”

              Louis was about to say that he was an MMA fighter, but that seemed like a horrible idea at that moment and said he was a weapons expert.

              “What types of weapons?” Steven interrogated.

              “All types,” Louis responded.

              “Do you work for some state agency?”

              “No.”

              “Strange. How do you earn a living as a weapons specialist?”

              “Poorly,” offered Louis. “I live with my parents.”

              “And why are you here?” insisted Steven who saw some uniting thread in the rest of the prisoners’ profiles and isolated Louis Marcé.

              “I have no idea. Did you come to this dungeon to ask questions?”

              They got quiet.

              “Can anyone imagine a reason for what happened to us?” Sofia asked.

              No one had any idea. All remember going about their normal lives, except that, in Louis’s case, normalcy had been heavily rationed for some time, and that they had all awakened there. They were all scientist or engineers, except for Louis who had dedicated himself to running from the police but was careful not to reveal that detail.

              The nauseating smell came from the fact that they all had a bag for eliminating waste stuck to their perineums and the seals on the bag was not perfect.

              At some point, the lights came on. The eight prisoners’ nudity was disconcerting and was only diminished by hundreds of small silver tattoos or body paint pattered on their skin below their faces, like sparse scales, giving them the appearance of marine animals because of their long hair and beards on the men who had them. They were in a circular chamber, facing each other. The windows closed and, on the ceiling, a polyhedron of LCDs came on. A man, fiftyish, appeared who identified himself as a doctor and told them they had been sedated with amnesia-inducing drugs for more than six months, which is why they had needed artificial life support instrumentation. They had been immobilized by physical restraint systems that would shortly be disengaged, releasing them. As none of them were health professionals, they ought to pay attention to the instructions on how to remove the medical devices, even though they were very simple. There was a medical robot on the ship and the only task it would carry out in this phase would be removal of their tunneled catheters. The beds would then be raised like chairs and they should remain seated for ten minutes, after which they could wash up and get dressed. Their skin was covered with platinum “seeds” that would flake off slowly in the future. The marrow of part of the long bones in their legs and arms, as well as their vertebras, had been filled with bio-compatible platinum in order to adjust their weight. There was no risk to their health as long as they were not subjected to repeated vibrations since the interface between the platinum and their bone marrow was the only unstable region. In this case, micro-particles could enter the bloodstream. If embolized, it could be dangerous for the brain and other organs. He went on to describe how they should remove the catheter, saline and other solutions, orogastric tube, nasal masks, EEG and cardiac electrodes, suprapubic catheter, thermal probes, oxygen saturation sensors, CO
2
, blood pressure measuring mini devices, neuromuscular stimulation electrodes and the pressure alternating socks.

              When he finished, the robot went to each one, excused himself, and removed the saline solution tube they had on their chests below the clavicle with a quick but precise movement, put pressure on the orifice for half a dozen minutes and then placed a patch of artificial skin on the wound. It repeated the procedure with the suprapubic catheter. The restraining bands were then released, freeing them so they could move. The beds themselves were true robots, moving to a full chair configuration and promoting their egress from the bed afterward. They removed the devices, cleaned themselves with small towels, dressed in disposable paper clothes and followed instructions to go down two levels, where they would find showers as well as clean clothes.

              They did so, with their faces marked by anxiety. Louis was the youngest, but also the calmest. He had been a marionette at the hands of unknowns for some time. There was little left for him to perceive who the unknown player was and why he had been interested in him.

              They were told to go up to the middle floor, where they found an almost closed horseshoe-shaped table with chairs affixed to the floor, like everything in that high-tech prison. Their names were on them. They found eight laptops, also affixed, one in front of each personalized chair. His said Lucas Zuriaga.

              Steven Boyd went back on the offensive and asked him if he was Marcé or Zuriaga, and he replied that Marcé was the name the robot had called him. Steven did not find his answer humorous and insisted on knowing why he had two names; Lucas explained that it was his artistic name.

              “What art?” Steven insisted.

              “The art of handling arms.”

              “What arms, specifically?”

              “My fists, principally.”

              The atmosphere was uncomfortable as everyone noticed that Lucas was unusually muscular.

              They sat down looking at the ninth place where the huge high resolution screen that could come on momentarily was. That moment arrived. Sofia’s heart accelerated and Mariah’s exploded when Professor Crane’s tense face appeared.

              “Uncle,” Mariah shouted. “What’s going on? Are my parents okay?”

              Crane looked to the side and then looked at the camera and began speaking.

              “Uncle,” Mariah shouted, tearing up.

              “Shut up, blondie. Don’t you see he can’t hear you?” Steven asked.

              Steven Boyd was as redheaded as the fall, a bit rotund and had very white skin, but contrary to the norm, he didn’t have freckles. Like many redheads, and everyone in his family was redheaded—father, mother, grandmothers, and sister; he had been bullied at school. He was excessively proud and had a photographic memory, but more than the happy moments, it was the suffering ones that recurrently passed before the screen of his retina. Maybe that was why he had a bellicose way of speaking, on the spur of the moment, and easily reacted impulsively.

              “My friends,” Crane began. “My dear Mariah, this is the most difficult message to transmit in my life. I ask that you listen carefully, and I ask that you not try to speak with me as our communications are slow, almost impossible. About five years ago, a very dark celestial body, of planetary dimensions, was found on a collision course with Mars. Unfortunately, due to planetary alignment, the Earth is in the path of the debris field from the collision of the red planet with this body, that we are calling Theia. The estimate for those fragments to collide with the Earth has risen to the point of surpassing seventy-six percent two years ago, but has remained stable since then. Even if there is no major direct impact, we will still be able to verify a very grave disruptive interaction with the Earth.”

              There was a deadly silence: the eight prisoners where now hostages, not of the dungeon but of Crane’s words.

Chapter 12

The Announcement

“We predict the collision will take place within the next twenty-seven months,” the Professor continued, “if it happens on the first pass, which has an eighty-seven percent probability, or within thirty-nine months if it comes after the debris field circumvolves the sun, which uses up the remaining probability. Life on Earth, we are afraid, will either be devastated or, worse, conclusively terminated.

              “Since our governments learned of this fact, they have launched initiatives to preserve the human species in the only location where it could occur in the short term outside of Earth—on Ganymede, Jupiter’s giant frozen satellite—and, in the long term, on Venus. In order for Venus to be habitable, they’re launching tons of modified bacteria into its atmosphere, which will alter it over the course of four hundred years. At that point, that planet will have an atmosphere similar to Earth’s, cooling down from the current four hundred fifty degrees to acceptable values, at least at its poles.

              “You, at this moment, as you hear me, have landed near the South Pole of Ganymede, Jupiter’s largest moon, within an artificial gigantic vault, an ultrathin dome of great dimensions that isolates you from the rest of the planet. You and the other settlers in your group should transform this super-dome into a biosphere capable of producing food, plants. Non-essential people and governments have not been informed in order to avoid panic.

              “There is a twenty-plus percent probability of there being a severe disruptive interaction with dust and small fragments from Mars, but one that would allow for the return of human live on Earth within five to twenty years. That would be a quasi-extinction event with the planet freezing deeply due to the lack of light because of darkening provoked by the dust, followed by repopulation. Finally, we have also calculated the hypothesis, perhaps two percent, of the planet that is threatening us, not passing Jupiter, but striking it. In that event, several moons, including yours, will be hit and you will not survive.

              “There was an unsurpassable divide among several governments about who should go to Ganymede. Two large countries think political leadership should have priority. We and our allies decided that the only rational solution would be to send young people of reproductive age who have the skills necessary for them to survive in the biospheres. We launched two equatorial missions to your moon, as well as logistical means with the capacity to autonomously sustain a total of seven manned missions of almost eighty settlers, several of whom have had military training in the Marines. This is the most conservative scenario, which will be implemented if risk evaluation favors the solution using orbital stations around the Earth and not reinforcement for colonizing Ganymede. We know that China will send two missions and Russia another two. Soldiers and engineers will go in the first ones and political leaders in the second. There will, in short time, be eleven official manned missions. It is possible that private organizations will send one or two a short time later. We are convinced that India and Brazil will not be able to launch any in time.

              “So we’ve launched three groups of settlers, each with four self-assembling and self-expanding half domes: one to be used now and three for future use, after demographic growth. Each one of the three groups has received two or three manned vessels and logistical ships as well. The two or three ships for each group were positioned within the same vault which then automatically closed, leaving the other three nearby, uninhabited since they are reserves for the future. Unfortunately, your partners on this mission were diverted to the limits of your vault, near an elevation and, after an unspecific SOS, we’ve only received automatic data from their systems. In spite of believing they’ve survived, even with partial losses, we cannot guarantee that they have. The nuclear reactor outside of your dome is working and has begun its activation process. It will produce energy within ten weeks, leading to the slow heating of the dome in five months, as the shallow vault loses heat to the exterior, and ending the winter inside it within six months. Outside of the biospheres, the planet’s condition is that of perpetual winter. You ought to go find your partners as soon as the winter within the vault slackens and allows you to circulate outside. Not only the crew of your twin missions was diverted. All of the logistical cargo of vital importance for the colony’s success, namely the heavy internal nuclear reactor that serves as a backup in case the external one breaks down, was as well. The three empty vaults next to you are functional, having closed correctly. Those dome’s external and internal nuclear reactors will stay switched off until having to be activated in the future in order to construct new biospheres.

              “The missions with the other two groups landed without difficulty and are well, but in a location closer to the equator.”

              “Your group was submitted to a technique of orthoprotesic densification using platinum so that your weight will be identical to that of Earth. Half of your weight is platinum, which is visible on your skin. The ultra-pure form of platinum that was implanted is inert from the biological point of view, if you maintain a correct diet. You just have to avoid jumping, blows, and falls due to the danger of that metal entering your bloodstream. Maintaining your weight means preserving your muscle and bone mass, making physical work easier.”

              “We do not anticipate confrontation with the Russian and Chinese missions, but that could occur. As soon as we discover where they landed, we will let you know. If they ask for help, it will be given on our terms. The Chinese and Russian missions are a genetic bottleneck. They do not have the variety that will guarantee survival of the species and ought to be considered as constituting a risk of extinction for mankind if they put our mission at a disadvantage.”

              “You are healthy, diverse, and fertile. You have genetic variations that are considered advantageous on Ganymede. After establishing a viable colony, you should have children.”

              “Your families,” Professor Crane continued, “will be made aware of this message after being contacted by the President of the United States or your countries’ head of state.”

              “As there is a twenty-four percent chance for life to survive on Earth, orbiting stations that will harbor twenty to one hundred thousand people are being constructed. Half of those people will be chosen due to criteria based on fertility, health, and genetic variation. The other half will be selected because of their value as leaders or professionals. Your families, as recognition, will be included in those ten to fifty thousand. Think of it this way: if there is a miracle and Earth remains viable, they will live because you have been chosen for this mission.”

              “In your computers, there are folders about how you should proceed, but part of that information will not be accessible for a year. The leader of your mission, designated as polar, since it is near Ganymede’s south pole, is Andrew Kline, with the position of vice president of Ganymede and your security official, with the duty of keeping the peace and implementing the authority attributed to the vice president, is Lucas Zuriaga. After joining together with the diverted mission’s settlers, he will be incorporated into the Marines as an officer. Andrew’s mandate is for one year, after which things will proceed according to the Constitution we have written for Ganymede, released after that date. Tomorrow, at noon, you will receive a message from the President of the United States.”

              “I wish you luck, my dear Mariah. I see you as my own daughter. I promise to take care of your parents. Be happy. A warm embrace for all of you who we envy and for whom we desire all of the best in that world.”

              Prof. Crane vanished. Mariah cried convulsively. Sofia hugged her and the others stayed quiet. Crane had spoken to Mariah as a friend, as was to be expected, but Sofia felt devastated by the fact that this uncle had ignored her. Not even a word. Wasn’t Sofia part of those people’s intimate circle? She had spent all of those months there in that house and he had treated her as an unknown. She had felt like part of the family and now she had been excluded in the coldest way possible. When you move to another state, people say goodbye and wish you good luck. When you go overseas, they hug you and promise to write. She had been sent to the limits of Jupiter and had not heard even one word.

              Andrew was seated in the middle chair, with Lucas to his right and Sofia to his left.

              “Lucas, do you accept the security mission that you were given?” Andrew calmly asked. There was a tense silence. This was Vice President Andrew’s first action. Lucas was not American. Why should he have to enter into that, to obey, whoever it was? On the other hand, his survival and the hypothetical survival of his parents depended on the Yanks. The past was the past. He would embrace the future, he would do so without the intransigence that his coach had criticized so much, and he was going to look for peace.

              “Yes, certainly,” he assented.

              The others looked at them, with an air somewhere between dramatic and incredulous. Only Steven seemed to simply be angry.

              “Does anyone oppose my assuming leadership of the group?” Andrew asked.

              Silence.

             
He’s got his gorilla and then he asks if he has our support?
Sofia thought.

              “We don’t know one another,” Andrew said, looking at the two young women embracing, “with the exception of Mariah and you...”

              “Suren. It’s Sofia Suren.”

              “Excuse me, but I still haven’t memorized everyone’s names. I know that we don’t know one another and, if you prefer, we can choose another method of organizing ourselves. The decisions we make should be collective.”

              “For me, it’s okay,” Sofia replied. “The people I love have the date of their pulverization set. I’m not a candidate for anything in this Gulag.”

              “Other opinions?” asked Andrew.

              Pierre Tollmache had a sophisticated and cultured air. He was typically urban. He had a high forehead and wore round blue steel-rimmed glasses. “It’s yours,” he said.

              The others nodded and Steven remained immobile.

* * *

The vessel was white outside and had three floors. On the top was the command tower, where they would sleep. In the middle there was a floor with a work zone, including a lab and, in the base, the service areas with the kitchen, showers, storage room and a small gym and access to the decompression chamber that let them go outside. Below that, there was a basement with tools for use outside and a ramp with the Ganymedian Rover.

              The spaceship’s small windows, round eyes, showed a dark night where stars shone without the sun’s obfuscation. Jupiter was very visible. The artificial vault was transparent, invisible. The capsule was on a totally frozen plane and, in the distance, on the horizon, some natural elevations loomed. The external temperature read two hundred five degrees Celsius below zero. At a great distance, perhaps eight or nine kilometers, it was difficult to tell, in front of the hills, you could see the figures of several ships close together.

              Andrew and his companions opened the laptops to get information on the mission.

              There was a 3D map of Ganymede, with its two faces, one rich in craters and the other clearer, with furrows and mountains, where they were. Their location as well as the position of the logistical vessels and the other manned ship had a maximum margin of error of two kilometers.

              The colony’s generation of energy was nuclear and later would become photovoltaic because they could make solar panels from the minerals in the rock outcrops in the vaults. It was also possible to build new domes to house the population as it grew. The nuclear reactors, whose estimated life was eighty years, would sustain the community until solar energy was sufficient. Despite being designated solar, the largest part of the energy came from Jupiter. Ganymede’s advantage was that it was one of the rare celestial bodies in the solar system that had, just like earth, a magnetosphere that protected it from cosmic radiation, facilitating the construction of relatively thin vaults. Inside the dome, one of the reactors was large and the others were the ones that had supplied the ship’s electric motors during the journey from Earth to Jupiter. Energy to merely keep people alive was not considered sufficient. There needed to be enough to construct biospheres with diverse types of plants inside the domes, as well as to build other biospheres. Solar energy self-sufficiency should occur within sixty years. That gave them a nuclear energy reserve of twenty years.

              There were two parallel missions: one, the maintenance of healthy communities for demographic growth. The human community’s small size and the difficulty of communications with and visits to the other two groups of settlers prevented generation of new technology that was not a variation of earth technology for at least four or five hundred years. Nevertheless, the existence of a single president for the entire planet had been decided upon, with vice presidents in the other two groups. Only at that point in time and only if a high birthrate were maintained would there be critical mass so that Ganymedians could resume making progress. There would be an inevitable loss of knowledge and differentiation, a process that would be very rapid during the first one hundred fifty to two hundred years. One of the principal risks identified was that women’s constant maternity would lead to a masculinization of power. It was predicted that this masculinization would induce the appearance of a retrograde type of machismo between the fourth and the seventh generation of Ganymedians, with eventual reversion from there. Since human life depended on artificial means generated by earth technology, there was a ninety-nine percent probability that a civil war would lead to Homo Sapiens’ extinction. With war being an essentially masculine phenomenon, machismo’s peak was also considered the peak for the risk of extinction. The concept of mutually guaranteed extinction would impede such a war as long as educational levels were kept high. The loss of settlers’ transitory differentiation carried the risk losing comprehension of that notion during the so-called tribalization phase between the fourth and seventh generations. Education over two hundred to three hundred years was, therefore, one of the fundamental missions for the species to survive. If everything went well, at that point, given the information available in the computer systems and the genetic quality of the population, the critical mass needed for producing ideas at the level found on Earth today would be met. That phase was vital as it would be at this point that Venus should reach the maturity needed for human life and transportation from Ganymede to Venus would be a Herculean but vital task. Ganymede was, after all, a planet with clear limits on colonization. Its resources were dependent on rock outcrops and were scarce. The majority of Ganymede was covered by ice, with no rock nearby. Thus, mineral reserves would run out within at least seven hundred years, which is why they ought to see themselves as Venusians far from home.