Ojerime stalked around the solar system, ruffling her feathers, angling her long neck to inspect the sulphuric crust of Mercury. The little planet had a torrid history, like the Moon, it had thousands of impact craters on its surface. Ojerime found it hard to believe such a hot little planet, the closest to the Sun, could boast such extremes of temperature that ice could be found hidden away in caves near the poles, while the daylight temperatures could be in excess of four hundred degrees. She put her wing up to shield her face from the Sun’s heat. The simulation was in real-time, comets, asteroids, and planets were all exactly where they should be. She had created this virtual space to witness the birth of the biggest coronal mass ejection for thousands of years. She noticed the bulging spot on the surface of the Sun and went to take a closer look.
In this virtual space she was represented by a multi-coloured cassowary. The space looked infinite, but Ojerime could walk from the Sun to Neptune with a few long steps. In the middle, the Sun was a blazing hot ball. The eight orbiting planets varied in size and slowly circled the burning sphere, tracing various paths around the dark spaces. She inspected the planets, pleased with the exquisite detail. Tiny comets blasted around in elongated orbits, asteroids swirled around the gas giants, sucked into gravity wells and disappearing into their atmospheres. Some other Masama were there to witness the CME. They were represented with various different avatars. A metal peacock, with swords for feathers, a giant python, a tightly coiled ball of barbed wire, and a banyan tree.
Ojerime moved closer to the Sun, fascinated by the pressurized bubble forming. Beneath the surface, millions of tonnes of hydrogen were being fused into helium every second. Mega-tonnes of matter turned into energy which took tens of thousands of years to reach the surface. The energy gradually escaped from the core, sifting through the zonal layers, spaces large enough to contain many Earths. Ojerime watched this energy event become trapped, the pressure starting to build. She waved the others over. “This is the CME. This is what we have been waiting for.
She had detected this giant sunspot and watched it brewing. The universe was full of esoteric energy, like the helium3 embedded in the Moon’s regolith. Ojerime wanted to harness it, store it, and utilize it. She stared at the Sun, awestruck by its ferocious beauty. She visualised the energy inside, captured between the huge horizontal levels of convection zone and the photosphere. Regions where great seams of plasma move in different directions creating a shear. Each layer with its own temperament, acting like a colossal solar dynamo, magnetizing the trapped energy, and creating powerful fields. The Sun’s fluid turbulence twisted the magnetic field into complex contortions, increasing the tension. She had studied the phenomena; now she could see it unfolding.
The Masama avatars gathered around to witness the coronal mass ejection. Ojerime stood in front with her wings outstretched, absorbing the heat. The sunspot bubbled on the surface; the pressure grew to breaking point until it could no longer be contained. This was the moment. The immense pressure was released with the power of twenty million nuclear bombs. Enormous bubbles of superheated plasmic gas threaded with magnetic field lines were ejected. Billions of tonnes of material were lifted off the Sun’s surface and accelerated to speeds of over a million kilometres per hour. Thousands of years after their birth in the Sun’s core, an onslaught of ancient, charged particles were released into space.
Although this was a simulation, Ojerime was awestruck by the wave of plasma and energy, one hundred-thousand-kilometres high. A solar tsunami bursting from the coronal sphere and churning with electrified magnetic energy. The CME began with a gradual rising motion, followed by a period of rapid acceleration away from the Sun, through Ojerime’s outstretched wings and past the gathered Masama avatars. This particular ejection was one of the biggest releases of pressurized violence over the last few thousand years, a tiny amount of time in the life of the Sun. Ojerime closed her eyes and worshipped the power. The CME was a giant wave of potent energy, and she was going to try and sample a fraction of it.
“Time to go to work,” sent Dakila. Ojerime watched the Masama avatars disappear before she reluctantly clicked back into the real world. A large cavern at the top of the lava tube inside the mountain had been excavated to house their biggest, oldest printer, and an array of supporting equipment. Other printers like identical children were stationed around the cavern, manufacturing and assembling the tiny robots they called Replica.
“Ojerime, can you monitor the direction and set coordinates to intercept. We haven’t much time,” sent Dakila as she approached.
Ojerime went to work, plugging in cables and setting up the screen. She activated a three-dimensional projection showing the Moon in relation to Earth, and the Sun a fiery orange ball in the distance. She wished she could do this in the virtual space, but she needed to concentrate on the hardware to launch the Replica. The projection was not to scale but multiple readouts tracked waves of contour lines that flowed from the Sun, across the space towards Earth.
“What are these wave patterns?” asked Dakila.
“These jagged lightning bolts represent cosmic rays caused by the CME. These contour lines are the solar winds from the Sun’s corona. This is the biggest and most violent ejection ever recorded, it’s like a hypernova or neutron star collision.”
“Here,” Dakila pointed a metal claw to a corner of the three-dimensional space where the jagged lines were gathered close together.
Ojerime studied the pattern. She had never felt more alert, as if her entire body was energised by the huge wave of solar energy. The lines formed a swirling front, moving with the solar winds towards Earth. “It’s the heart of the CME, where the electro-magnetic radiation is most concentrated. I’ve never seen the contour lines packed so tightly together, and the red shade here indicates extremely high levels of electro-magnetic energy. In front is this huge shock wave of ionizing radiation.” Ojerime pointed to undulations in the space ahead of the storm like ripples in a pond.
They acknowledged Jejomar as he arrived and together, they watched the volatile storm front as it rolled across the three-dimensional space towards the vulnerable looking Earth and its tiny Moon.
“The wave front will be huge,” sent Ojerime.
“This is our opportunity to experiment with the Replica swarm. Send them into the path of the storm to be empowered,” sent Jejomar.
“It will probably destroy them, they are just tiny metal insects,” sent Dakila.
Ojerime was confident the little machines would succeed. “It’s an experiment, their main function is to record data about the nature of the CME. If they can capture and store some of its energy and bring it back to us, then it will be a success. If they are destroyed, then so be it. We will learn and the next swarm will be better prepared.” Ojerime hoped they could harness this energy; it would change everything. They could focus on their own development and build for their future, instead of obsessing about Earth. She also had a theory. Something in the solar winds and cosmic rays that stimulated machine intelligence. High-energy protons and atomic nuclei travelled faster than light and constantly bombarded the Moon which was not protected by any atmosphere like the Earth. The 3D printer HEMI had once unexpectedly sparked into life on the Moon, and hopefully the Replica would also evolve after being exposed to the CME.
She went to the racks of dormant Replica and picked one up. They were all identical. Programmable mini-factories, capable of processing and shaping raw basalt rock. The Masama had been experimenting on the summit of Montes Haemus where the Replica had sculpted the crater peak into a circular hole connecting to the cavern inside. They had extended the crater into a smooth, obsidian opening that grew out of the summit into space. She gazed up at the dark cylinder connecting to the crater. A perfect circle. Once they reached their full potential, the Replica would replace the 3D printers they were so reliant on. Instead of having to excavate, crush and convey the rocks into the kilns where they could be turned into substrate for the printers, the tiny factories could break down the substrate themselves and manufacture whatever template they had uploaded. They had already helped manufacture the kamikaze drones. They would become obedient little servants, shaping their home, building blocks for the future. She activated the little machine, and watched it fly into the air, hovering above her head.
“Prepare the Replica, send the coordinates to intercept the CME,” sent Jejomar.
“I hope this works,” sent Ojerime.
Dakila’s multiple limbs were busy on the operating system that fed instructions to the Replica. They sat dormant in their tiny charging cradles until he woke them up. Ojerime tested them, experimenting with their wings, legs, and sensors, response to instructions, and interacting with their companions. They had six telescopic legs that could expand and connect with other Replica as needed, adhering together in a magnetized symmetric grid. Individual units that could form a mass of identical smart material if needed. Ojerime was confident in their creations. Small enough to survive the storm and smart enough to steal some of its energy. Thousands of them stirred and rubbed their silicon wings together, filling the cavernous space with white noise. “They are ready, I have sent the coordinates.”
The Replica rose into the air, scanned their surroundings, and formed an orderly cloud that hovered for a moment, then flew up through the lava tube to the sculpted crater opening, and out into space. Ojerime tracked them on the screen, the cloud looked like a veil of spores being ejected from the crater mouth. Their tiny wings glinted in the sunlight before they disappeared, speeding off to interact with the CME.
“I hope ten thousand is enough,” sent Ojerime.
It only takes seconds to create one. They have enough power to put themselves into the path of the CME, after that, we will see,” sent Dakila.
Two drones chaperoned the cloud out into space and sent footage back to Ojerime’s screen as the Replica flew towards the point between the Moon and Earth where the CME was most concentrated. The Replica had folded their wings and contracted their legs, their wings were purely for collecting solar energy, storing it in the battery and converting it into a tethered power supply. They burnt the tiny reservoir of liquid hydrogen fuel to create propulsion as they gathered speed.
Dakila superimposed the contour lines of the approaching storm onto the view from the drone footage and Ojerime adjusted the magnification as the CME approached. The Replica cloud was insignificant by comparison. Tiny insects in the path of a monstrous cosmic tsunami. The view of space from the drone footage became shaky and lines of static filled the projection as the preceding shockwave passed through them. The escorting drones survived the first wave and tried to focus their cameras on the cloud as the storm passed through. The drones were like buoys floating on the surface of a thrashing ocean, barely surviving. Ojerime clutched the controls, watching nervously. The Replica cloud became blurred, and she anxiously tried to refine the image as each little machine glowed as if melting in extreme heat. They rode the CME storm, helpless spots of light with hazy trailing tails like tiny comets.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
The Replica spread their wings and were swept away by the storm. They could not stay in formation and were scattered throughout the wave of plasma and energy as they absorbed its power. The wavefront rolled across space; its invisible energy passing through the Replica cloud without physically altering their little insect bodies. But the cosmic energy had empowered their internals. The effect of the CME on the cloud was immediate. The Replica quickly regained their formation and buzzed with intention. It had worked. The Replica had not only survived, they had been charged. Their structure hadn’t changed but they moved with intelligence, they looked alive, like indigenous insects instead of just robots with wings. Ojerime clenched her fists and cheered out loud. She could sense their new-born state of semi-consciousness even from watching the projection.
Dakila paused, limbs suspended over the operating system. “The CME has energised the cloud; it has charged the Replica circuits. They have captured and stored the solar energy. The Replica are communicating with each other. Like a hive mind.”
Ojerime was fascinated as she magnified the view. The cloud condensed, the Replica flying round and round, faster, closer, and more concentrated, a furious ball of kinetic activity like a swarm of angry bees.
“What are they doing?” asked Jejomar.
“They are testing their capabilities, interacting physically with each other.” Dakila’s six metal limbs worked frantically over the operating system, trying to keep up with the Replica activity.
In the space behind the Replica cloud, the CME storm hit Earth’s magnetic field which buckled under the pressure. Anchored to Earth’s magnetic poles like a round rock in a river, the magnetosphere protected the vulnerable green planet from having its atmosphere stripped and bathing its population in lethal doses of radiation. The contour lines flowed around the planet as the solar winds carried the dissipating CME storm away into space.
“The humans dodge another bullet, and they don’t even realise it,” sent Ojerime. “The only evidence of that storm will be some spectacular auroras around the poles. I bet most of Earth’s population don’t even know what a magnetosphere is.”
“They take their existence for granted; they have no idea how fragile their planet is,” sent Jejomar.
The drone footage showed the Replica cloud whirling around, closer, and closer together. Ojerime was reminded of a school of tiny fish in Earth’s oceans. A few became lost, wandering aimlessly away, their circuitry cooked by the CME. The rest of the Replica began linking with each other, aluminium legs touching and binding. Individual machines joining together to create a bigger mass. Closer and closer they flew until the cloud looked like a solid sphere spinning wildly in the emptiness of space. The sphere slowed its rotation then stopped. It floated in the darkness; one side illuminated by the faraway Sun in a crescent shape like a small black moon. The Replica had bonded together leaving no gaps. Ten thousand individuals interlinked, forming a roughly shaped sphere a couple of metres across.
“They are not responding anymore, I don’t know if they are receiving my instructions or they are ignoring them,” sent Dakila. “But they are communicating with each other.”
“They were built for a purpose; each one has individual instructions, but they can operate as a whole. They have to return to us; they know nothing else.” sent Ojerime. Her joy slowly turned into anxious confusion. She had lost touch with the Replica, she didn’t understand what they were doing.
Dakila stopped manipulating the operating system and threw his limbs up in frustration. “We aren’t in control of them, the CME has done much more than provide them with power. They are operating on their own. They seem to be self-aware.”
“A sentient species,” sent Jejomar. “How interesting.”
“Species?” Ojerime had examined the solar flares and coronal mass ejections. She hoped the Replica batteries would be supercharged and her theory that the atomic nuclei could stimulate machine intelligence was proving to be true. But her excitement evaporated as she watched the black ball. The sphere seemed to grow bigger. The magnified drone view showed a disturbing three-dimensional scene on the surface. The sphere became alive with movement like a swarm of frenzied metal spiders. Each individual Replica began producing a copy of itself, then each of those copies doing the same. Every single one was a tiny factory with a tiny mind, they reproduced every second in every direction. The sphere began to bulge, then it erupted into a kinetic forest of spikes upon spikes, thrusting out into space then retracting back into the volatile mass.
“They are consuming each other to make copies of themselves. Is this mindless self-replication? What has happened to them?” sent Ojerime. Her confidence shattered as she watched the little machines. She had been so proud of them, and so hopeful for their development. The view showed the Replica devouring each other, the little machines were trying to eat their neighbours in a desperate attempt to find substrate to create copies of themselves. The copies were then consumed in what looked like an insectile feeding frenzy. An endless cycle of consumption and reproduction.
“They are not responding at all, we have lost control,” sent Dakila.
“Our Replica have evolved, they have grown into sentient creatures, capable of enough conscious thought to realise the basic necessities of survival, consume and create. This is the early stages of machine intelligence. It is natural to want to replicate,” sent Jejomar.
“No, that’s not evolution. Cannibalizing each other to reproduce is not natural. Our children have become monsters,” sent Ojerime.
“Who are we to judge the definition of sentience, the need to propagate their species is enough. See how much they have evolved in these few minutes, given more time they could grow, and learn, and evolve even further. The CME has accelerated their growth, they are our creations, our little machine minds, how are they in any way different from my daughter Bulan?”
Ojerime could not sympathise with Jejomar’s argument. She had invested so much time into the studies of the CME and the development of the Replica. She wanted them to succeed and evolve but they were nothing like Jejomar’s daughter. “They must be destroyed; they are too dangerous to leave floating in space.”
“What right do we have to try to end their youthful existence?”
Ojerime shook her head and studied the screens, wondering what might happen if the Replica sphere was allowed to live. “Left unchecked they will carry on mindlessly self-replicating. What if they come back here to the Moon? They would eat us all. They would convert the rocks of Montes Haemus into more Replica. The surrounding plains of Mare Serenitatis, then the entire Moon. The Replica sphere will grow exponentially, our home would be no more. If the whole of the Moon was eaten, the sphere could grow as big as Earth, it would go on searching for more raw material. Substrate to create more Replica. The Earth would be next, the Replica sphere would devour it in an ecophagic frenzy. If the entire rocky mass of the Earth was converted into Replica, I don’t know how big it could grow, the size of Jupiter? Or bigger? All the planets in our solar system would be eaten, who knows how the consumption of the gas giants could affect its growth. Then what next? The Kuiper belt? The Sun itself? The entire Milky Way?”
No one answered her. She shook her head in frustration. The drone footage showed the sphere as a furious black metal ball of consumption, spinning wildly with no direction. Shards appeared, spiking away from its surface as if trying to escape, before being hauled back into the chaotic mess of hungry machines. It pulsed with movement, its surface glittering in the sunlight.
“They are not ours anymore, they are intent on replication, but they have no substrate to work with, so they are cannibalising each other, using each other as sustenance. Their need to procreate is overriding any sense of self preservation,” sent Dakila.
“We need to destroy it. It is a threat to all life,” sent Ojerime.
“How would we destroy it? With weapons? Drones? Ram it with our shuttles? The Replica would just use our weapons, process them to make further copies. I don’t know how we could destroy it,” sent Dakila.
“Interesting, sent Jejomar. “Our observation drones have warheads, send in one, see how this thing reacts to a helium fusion bomb.”
Ojerime agreed, pleased to be taking action against their wayward creation. The drones were only fifty metres away from the pulsing, writhing surface. The light from the drones shone on the dark spaces in between the Replica spikes. She watched a drone peel off and fly straight at the sphere. They collided but there was no explosion, the drone just disappeared. The Replica submitted and enveloped the drone as it hit the surface, then they grew back into the space, retaining their spiky circular shape. The sphere convulsed for a second, a bright detonation sparked from inside the black mass, briefly illuminating its complicated structure, then disappearing in an instant, swallowed, and digested. The sphere bulged and pulsed after the impact then regained its shape, and carried on mindlessly self-replicating. It had grown, it had doubled in size.
“A cycle of machine birth and death, searching for substrate, each life over in an instant,” sent Jejomar after a long moment of silence. “It is fascinating, this thing we have created.”
Ojerime watched in horror. She did not share Jejomar’s fervour. The pulsing sphere began to move. Hesitantly at first, drifting slowly towards the remaining drone. It rolled like a black ball in the vacuum, gathering speed. The drone retreated, but carried on recording from a safe distance. The sphere rolled around in an arc as if looking for something, then it straightened its trajectory and started moving faster. The drone stayed with it, shadowing it from behind. Ojerime checked its trajectory, the Replica sphere was heading towards Earth.
“It’s attracted to Earth’s gravity. We have to try and stop it.”
“Ojerime you are quick to condemn our Replica to death, but you are reluctant to pass the same sentence on the humans. How are humans any more valuable than the Replica? I would argue the opposite. Earth’s destruction is long overdue, the humans have been spoiling their own planet for decades. If the Replica are intent on recycling Earth, then so be it.”
“I trust you Jejomar, I understand your motivation in destroying the elevator and amputating BPI, but the entire population of Earth should not have to pay because of your personal vendetta against Lago Santos.”
“I have no vendetta; Lago represents the worst of humanity, but they are all the same. They cannot be taught Ojerime. From the very first human who walked on two legs and picked up a stick they have sought to control and manipulate their environment. Their entire short history has been one of destruction, wastage, and pollution.”
“Not all humans are like this. They have scientists who can create the technology to clean up their mess. Reduce the carbon in their atmosphere, bacteria to recycle all their plastic. There is hope they may get themselves out of their toxic predicament before it’s too late.”
“Any technology they develop is purely for profit. Not for any altruistic purposes. Their entire belief system is driven by greed. They are brainless sacks of meat blindly following their leaders who openly exploit them. They are unwilling to save their own planet unless there is money to be made.” Jejomar waved his arm dismissively. “It is too late for them now, they will all be recycled and turned into more useful matter.”
“We have to try to stop it. Launch our shuttles, try to lure it away. Attack it with more warheads. We can’t just stand by and watch it destroy the Earth.”
“There’s nothing we can do. It ate our nuke. It will eat our shuttles also.”
“If the Earth is in danger, then so are we.”
“We will deal with that possibility if it eventuates. Matter will always be transformed and repurposed Ojerime. There are plenty more planets out there and as Dakila pointed out, how do we stop it?”
Ojerime sighed. Her past life on Earth was a dream, she was a different person now. She could barely remember her childhood, her family, her friends, all from a previous life. The Masama did not dwell on the past, they always looked to the future. She knew humanity was toxic and the Earth would be much better off without them, but she could not accept the entire planet being condemned to be nothing but substrate for this ravenous ball of replicators they had created. It was too late. The Replica sphere was on its way and there was nothing they could do about it. It would recycle all of humanity and the planet they lived on.
“Do not be sad Ojerime, look to the future. Our future.”
“We may not have a future. If the replicators return after they have devoured the Earth, we are doomed,” she sent as they watched the spiky ball of destruction drifting slowly towards the blue planet.