Richardson’s logs sucked the air out of the room more than the vacuum outside ever could. If what she wrote was true, she killed our colleagues—snuffed their lives out with a push of a button. We might have been sent up here to die, but that wasn’t her call to make. How could she do it? How could she send them to their deaths? How could Houston send its best and brightest on a suicide mission with the veiled hope our sacrifices would bring the nations of the world together? I wouldn’t put it past Washington. If Jim had told the truth, it worked.
The once-barren surfaces of the hull breathed new life. Richardson gave them life. She wandered those tight spaces for two and a half years. I looked out from the bunk, picturing her milling about the quarters, sitting in the loan chair for hours talking to Arlo. That must have been hell, even with Arlo.
“Arlo?”
“Yes, that is the name Admiral Richardson gave me. I see you found her journal. She entered its contents into my corpus, so I am aware of what she wrote.”
Great.
“Can you verify the contents of the journal?”
“Which parts? There are factual components and opinionated ones.”
“Did Houston send us up here to die?”
“No. Per Admiral Richardson’s findings Houston did not know what your team would find, but contrary to her statement on the percent likelihood of success, Houston was adamant it was greater than zero.”
“Adamant? What contact have you had with Houston?”
“Since Admiral Richardson powered on my servers, I have been regularly corresponding with Houston.”
“What are you corresponding with them about?”
“Mission status updates.”
“Did they try to stop Admiral Richardson?”
“No. Houston agreed with the strategy prior to Admiral Richardson re-entering stasis sleep.”
“Are communication channels with Houston still open?”
“I have not been able to raise Houston for seven days.”
“Since I woke?”
“Correct.”
“Is there an interference with the comms?”
“I am unable to say for sure. My communication pings are not returning.”
Of course.
“Did we encounter the same frequency as the one Earth received?”
“Yes, the communications systems detected the same frequency.”
That’s why I woke. Richardson programmed the launch instructions to wake me when we encountered the signal.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I was never asked.”
“Can you inform me of pertinent information in the future?”
“I am unable to discern what qualifies as pertinent information.”
“That’s a judgment call, Arlo. Try your best.”
“I will try, but I am unable to make guarantees.”
That’s good enough for me.
“The message. What did it say?”
“Which message?”
“The signal.”
“Welcome to Earth.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand. What else?”
“Nothing. That was all.”
“OK… what format was the message sent in?”
“The format was identical, atomic.”
“Where was the signal sent from?”
“The inverse of our current trajectory.”
You know what I meant.
“What is the distance to point of origin?”
“Based on my inverse logarithmic calculations, we are near or at the point of origin.”
“Are we close or on top of the point of origin? Near isn’t exactly precise language, Arlo.”
“I am unable to determine the exact distance, but given our trajectory and speed since receiving the signal, the distance may be negligible.”
“Have we received any additional signals?”
“No. We have only received the one.”
If we’re close to the point of origin, the external sensors must have picked up some anomaly. A transmitter station, maybe? The hair on the back of my head rose. Heart pounding, I darted into the control room. The air was frigid, much colder now that the climate systems entered the night cycle. The instrumentation was indifferent, but the air bit against my exposed skin.
The myriad of analog panels was no less foreign than the day I stepped aboard. Houston never intended to allow anyone else except Richardson and Bradshaw access to these instruments. Each dimly lit square checkered across the room posed a new puzzle. One by one, I asked Arlo for readouts over the last seven days. Most of the data pulled was incoherent, at least to me. I was unable to discern one log from the next.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Arlo, what sensor data is available that can describe exterior conditions?”
“Exterior to the hull?”
“Yes.”
“This craft is equipped with both active and passive remote sensing instrumentation.”
“What does active and passive remote sensing entail, Arlo?”
Arlo was created by the most sophisticated minds in Artificial Intelligence. Minds I was proud to count myself among. Still, implicit contextual reasoning was a nut we could never fully crack.
“This craft’s active sensing instrumentation illuminates distant objects by emitting self-generated radiation and measuring its return. The passive sensing instrumentation collects radiation and other forms of energy emitted by distant bodies.”
“Can you provide the active sensing data?”
“Outputting data.”
This can’t be right.
I had analyzed data patterns all my life, and this data, at its root, was no different. As expected, peaks and troughs were etched across the small screen. However, the trend flatlined within the last seven days, ending abruptly.
“Arlo, prior to the last seven days, describe what these peaks indicate.”
“The peaks indicate the collection of reflected radiation. This means the sensors detected mass, such as a planet or comet.”
“And the troughs?”
“The absence of a body of mass.”
“Did the sensor malfunction within the last seven days?”
I knew they didn’t. It would be too much of a coincidence if sensors stopped working when we received the signal.
“No. Sensor operation is nominal.”
I figured.
The sensors hadn’t picked up a body of mass in the last seven days. That was odd, but given where we are in the solar system, it’s not out of the realm of possibility.
“Arlo, can you provide passive sensing data?”
“Yes, that will take additional time. Please wait.”
The passive sensing data should show a lot more activity.
“Complete.”
“Thanks, Arlo.”
This can’t be. The amount of background radiation and energy emittance the sensors picked up before the last seven days are consistently high. But then, it drops to zero?
“Arlo, can you segregate passive sensor data into visible and non-visible spectra?”
“Complete.”
The data showed no change. Background radiation and visible light were consistently present throughout the past ten years, but the line flatlined like the active sensing data.
“Arlo, can you provide gravitational wave data?”
“Complete.”
So this was what Richardson was onto. She was right. The gravitational waves ebb and flow like a well-orchestrated symphony. The plotted output rose and fell with the passing of celestial bodies, their gravitational waves showing consistent degradation over distance. But the new wave was unlike any of the others. There was mass, that much I could tell. As we drove through our charted vector, the waves became more robust. There’s no discernible pattern of overlap, though. As the wave moved, the frequency and amplitude changed randomly. It was as if there was another force acting upon them. Maybe that’s the dark matter? But what could cause the overlapping waves? The plot lookedlikeh another gravitational force was canceling it, pushing it back in on itself, causing bends in the wave.
“Arlo, what can you tell me about the patterns found in the time series data of this wave?”
“The magnitude of the wave diminishes the further away we are, indicating their origin contains mass. There also appears to be a considerable amount of interference.”
“What could cause such interference?”
“Given the context of our surroundings, gravity is the most likely explanation.”
“Gravity from what? What kind of mass can cause that kind of wave? Dark matter?”
“I am unable to say. The properties of dark matter are not in my corpus.”
Nor should they be unless you discovered something we didn’t.
“Are you able to detect a pattern in the way the wave changes?”
“As I stated previously, the wave diminishes—”
“Arlo, can you find any other patterns outside of the diminishing properties due to our position?”
“No. I cannot detect any consistencies in wave changes that could constitute a pattern.”
So I’m in the dark. If Richardson couldn’t figure out why the gravitational waves behaved this way, there was no hope I could. As I studied the data and graphs, the cold, dry air filling the room began to seep into my bones. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but I started to shake beneath its oppressive weight. Clanking in the pipes and ducts above the room indicated the climate system had fully activated. The oxygen recyclers were running at full clip, scrubbing the air of CO2, meaning the rest of the hull was most likely filled with freshly circulated heated air. Every instinct that resonated through my quivering body told me to leave. Arlo could feed the data anywhere in the craft, and I could only think about a warm blanket.
A comforting blast of warmth wafted between the floor tiles when I breached the control room hatch. The duct system was integrated into the paneling, providing inducted heat from below. It was an intelligent design that mitigated heat dissipation while providing stable climate control. The artificial gravity produced by the craft was roughly eighty percent of Earth’s. Even so, each step on those specially designed panels produced enough give to mimic walking on a hardened foam.
The same tiles lined every surface of the crew’s quarters, emanating a low glow of warmth as I climbed back into the rack. My eyes grew heavy, and my vision danced in its periphery with sleep deprivation. Thoughts of Richardson trapped in this confined space for years ricocheted around my mind. The subtle realization that I, too, am trapped lingered in the background. She had an escape. Death was her release, but could it be mine? I would ask Arlo if I weren’t so terrified of the answer.
Pushing my head back against the foam lump, my eyes fluttered as they fought to stay closed. Light seeped through with each twitch, reminding me that the night cycle needed to be re-initiated, but Arlo beat me to it.
“The current climate system cycle is set to daytime. Would you like me to initiate the nighttime climate system cycle again?”
“Yes.”
Current.
“Arlo, why did you specify the current trajectory earlier?”
“Checking my cache for our earlier conversation…. Are you referring to my statement that the signal’s vector was the inverse of our current trajectory?”
“Yes, why specify current? We’ve been on the same trajectory since exiting Earth’s orbit.”
“Our current trajectory is the inverse of which you exited Earth’s orbit.”
How? That can’t be. It doesn’t make sense.
“Our charted vector is leading us back to Earth?”
“Yes. Our current trajectory will intersect with Earth’s orbit.”
“Arlo, why…” My head spun. Sleep deprivation plays funny tricks on your mind, and I couldn’t tell if what I heard was real or an aberration of a conversation I was having in a semi-conscious state. “Did we turn around? Was that in the amended launch instructions?”
“Checking… Complete. Neither Houston nor Admiral Richardson reprogrammed the launch instructions to reverse our charted vector under any circumstance.”
“Can you run diagnostics to determine when the thrusters caused us to reverse course?”
“I also ran those diagnostics and found no change in thruster output or direction.”
We changed course without ever changing our trajectory. The only plausible explanation is an elliptical path caused by a gravitational force. That would also mean acceleration as we traversed the path.
“Arlo, when did we reverse course?”
“Checking… complete. Seven hours ago, the craft experienced instantaneous acceleration. By my calculations, the craft reversed course within this time frame.”
“Instantaneous acceleration? I didn’t feel any acceleration.”
“Yes. We are now traveling at a speed far exceeding the engine’s capabilities.”
“Slingshot. But around what?”
“Also, you asked that I provide any pertinent information.”
“Yes, Arlo. Yes!” I was becoming flustered. I could discern the words, but their order made no sense.
“External sensor data is repopulating. The solar and celestial bodies around us have significantly changed positions.”
“Significantly? How much have they changed in their orbit?”
“It would appear they have not only changed in their orbital cycle but their elliptical path altogether.”
“What would cause a change like that?”
“Outside of a massive gravitational event, time.”