EFFECTS OF OPENNESS / CH. 16:CONSTRUCTION
FRISOL 8TH OCTOBER, 9AM
“Robert, you really don't mind helping the whole day?”
“Ruth, you're my girlfriend, I like spending time with you, it's my favorite activity, you might have noticed. You really don't mind me seeing your wonderful technology at work? I mean, that's what Simon said was the excuse for giving me the day off.”
“You won't see much at all.”
“I'll see magic happening. But I admit continued total bemusement that your forcefield door connects using a perfectly normal interface cable.”
“Hey, we're rubbish at mass production. I've said that.”
“Yes. I didn't know that meant you've been buying wires and cables from land-folk for centuries, and even used the same pin-outs as us.”
“Just because you can't make reliable circuits even when your lives depend on it, there's no point in ignoring what you're doing, or introducing new protocols and things if you've got good ones. But I still don't understand why you don't use error correcting codes on everything.”
“On everything?”
“Do you want to save glitch filled data?”
“Well no... but....”
“See! You have the solution, you just don't bother applying it. We see, ooh, those clever land-folk have come up with a solution for corrupt data. Might corrupt data be a problem? Duh, yes. Let's use it.”
“Even for a keypad to a doorway?”
“Let's say you're trying to get in through the door during a storm. If there's a data error it really can't correct, it says 'sorry, bad glitch' but if there's a mistyped keycode it says 'think about that for another fifteen seconds, kiddo.' I really want that error correcting code rather than it just saying 'bad code or glitch' like I've seen some places.”
“O.K.” Robert gave in.
“You're not going to tell me I can't have it, are you?”
“No. I'm sure they can be programmed that way. I'm just thinking, maybe you don't want one which has a rad-detector built in, then.”
“You build in radiation detectors so that the system can say 'probably not a glitch' rather than just checking a checksum?”
“Urm, yes,” Robert said, embarrassed.
“But the 'think harder' time goes down during a storm?”
“Yes.”
“Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. Except, of course it might just mean someone wanting more tries takes a radiation source with them. I still want error-correcting data transmission both ways. It'll be controlling a hard forcefield, remember. I don't want it getting an 'emergency override close even if it kills someone' code just because of some glitch.”
“Urm, it has that?”
“Most Atlantis doors do, yes. Under water, you know? One dead or all dead is a nasty choice, but it exists.”
“OK, I guess that's true. But on that note... why? Why a forcefield door rather than just an electro-mechanical lock?”
“Mechanisms tend to wear out after a few centuries. Especially if you guys make them. No offence meant, it's just you don't have the alloys.”
“Yeah, I know... Martian steal really isn't very good, is it?”
“Martian? I meant land-folk, actually. Blame it on the king of Ophir.”
“Is this a story just I need to hear? Or should it wait until Hathie comes to drag me away from you?” It had started a couple of weeks earlier as Hathie's joke about was why she'd starting arriving towards the end of the evening to talk to Ruth. It was, coincidently, when the regolith moving work was safely over for the day, but Robert knew the real reason. Hathie was delighted at the thought that she might gain Ruth as a sister-in-law, knew she dominated the conversation when she was present, and didn't want to stop him having time to talk to Ruth.
“Good thought. Short version is he had too much gold, and no iron.”
“Where was Ophir?”
“No idea, actually, sorry. All I know is as well as lots of yellow metal you couldn't really do much with except trade, there were sea-caves there, and we used to live in them. When enemies came with metal that could cut your weapons in half, that was embarrassing enough. But when they then picked up the lump they'd just cut off your sword and ran away with it, jumping up and down with glee then it was really really annoying. There's a song about it in case you're wondering.”
“Will you teach me Mer?” Robert asked.
“Not today.” Ruth said, evasively, “Today, I've got to teach you wall-building for beginners.”
“I bow to your expertise, oh beautiful and knowledgeable one,” Robert said.
“Expertise? I've got a book here which is called, I kid you not, 'Wall building for beginners', with a subtitle 'From complete basics to towers in five hundred and thirty seven easy steps.' So far we've got to step three: clearing the ground.”
“What were steps one and two?”
“Step one, turning on the machine. Step two, checking the feed-rock is good.”
“Oh. And it is?”
“That rock over there was. I checked a few weeks ago, before we started the humongous job of finding rock. I hope the stuff we've cleared the regolith away from is good too, or it gets awkward. So, we go back to step two.”
“From the title of that book, is this something people often do themselves?”
“Small scale stuff, yes. Personally, I'd expect that somewhere in the instructions for building a anything taller than I am it says 'call an expert to make sure this is sane.' Which gets tricky of course.”
“Can you recycle the crystal?”
“Yes. Come on, let's suit up and go cut some rock. Oh, by the way, don't touch my rock cutter, not even to hand it to me. It's dangerous as in 'kill lots of people' dangerous.”
“You mean it's boobytrapped?”
“That too, but I meant if you press the wrong button you cut things, and if you somehow press the complicated set of buttons to override the safety locks and convince it you really want to slice rock a kilometre away, then you've got a fusion-powered laser and forcefield cutting beam that's intended to find rock underwater. It might not even notice it's eating dome plastic rather than adjusting for bubbly water as it goes looking for rock. I assure you that someone is working on a redesign that doesn't have that capability, but it's more complicated to do it properly than it might sound.”
“You can't just make it impossible to do in software?”
“There's not much software in it, from what I hear, and I said doing it properly. That means making a high power laser that will not turn on if there's a problem with the range forcefield, whereas at the moment the overrides just let you turn on the laser without it, and the instructions say always have it pointed at solid rock when you turn it on.”
“Oh... Right. Do the range forcefields ever fail?”
“Not yet, but would you like to kill a whole heap of people by accident? Remember, you're talking about a thing that could puncture the dome of Atlantis.”
“That's sort of scary, yes.”
“That is, of course, another reason that we're happy you've not caught up with us yet.”
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EMBASSY OF ATLANTIS, FRISOL 8TH OCTOBER, 12.30PM
They were at the bottom of a one metre wide trench, roughly half a metre deep, with the regolith held back by sheets of heavy duty plastic.
Robert still wasn't very sure why it needed to been dug all the way around the site, but Ruth had insisted that doing it this way was better than doing it in sections. Now, the process was that Ruth dug a trapezoid slot into the bedrock, narrower at the top than the bottom, and somehow turned the bits into pyramids and box-shapes so he could get them out. Robert had the task of picking up the cuttings and loading the extruder machine. Except, now he saw Ruth was doing something to the controls on the machine, as she did sometimes. When she'd stepped away, he maneuvered the strange forcefield-wheel-barrow into place and poured another pile of sharp-edged triangles of rock into the hopper. He was sure the barrow was helping, as was the attachment it had for scooping up rock fragments. That would have been a horrible job. But moving the barrow around without it falling into the slot was still hard work. He went back to get another load but looked up in confusion when he saw Ruth's feet in the way. “Step back and admire the fruits of our labour, Robert. It's lunchtime.”
“I still think it doesn't make sense to dig a hole in rock and fill it again with crystal. Isn't the rock hard enough?”
“It's called the foundations, Robert, and it'll make sure the wall doesn't fall down.”
“And why does the crystal stick up that far?”
“Different density, I presume. Crystal is insulating, after all.”
“That makes as little sense as anything. Well known fact, crystals transmit heat really well.”
“Oh, it's not technically crystal. We just call it that.”
“Right. What is it technically?”
“You know you look at a house on Earth, well, I guess not you personally, but you can say, 'yeah, that's made of brick, that is, and urm.. brick is something to do with clay, and you get it really hot and it comes out red or yellow or even dark blue sometimes and it doesn't go squishy when its wet'?”
“Yes.” Robert said guessing what would come next.
“This is crystal, this is. You put in the rock and out comes this wonderful building material and it's insulating and you can see through it, and I was really shocked when I saw a picture of someone hammering a nail into a wall.”
“Yeah. So was I, but for different reasons.”
“But you have internal walls.”
“But a nail? It'll just fall out. What would a nail do to this?”
“Got any? We could try.”
Robert patted his pockets, as though sharpened pieces of steel were something he normally carried, “No.” It was a lame joke but he was tired.
“Be a waste anyway.”
“We'd need to redo the section?” Robert asked, wondering how it'd cope with a bullet.
“Don't be a jit, this stuff doesn't really get scratched by diamond. You'd just bend the nail or put a hole in your Mars-suit or something. The typical bullet, if you're wondering, is going to shatter or bounce.”
“Oh. Nice sort of wall to have around my girlfriend-ambassador-target.”
“Yes. But have you actually realised how far we've come?”
“You cut, I made the forcefield-wheel-barrow dig, I pressed the up button and filled, the machine trundled along on spider legs, it all got into a bit of a routine... Urm...” he looked around and realised they'd come much further than he'd expected.
“Doorway time,” Ruth said, stepping to one side. They'd almost got to where they'd started from.
“Wow. We've moved that much rock?”
“Here. Feel the weight of one of these, without cutting your suit of course. The edges are sharp.” She gave him one of the triangular prisms she'd cut from the rock and he'd been shuttling around without much thought.
“It must weigh about ten kilos!” he exclaimed, hefting it.
“Yes. My guess is each lift you've done was about a hundred litres of rock, which the machine tells me has a density of two and half kilos a litre. So, a quarter of a tonne per lift, which is quite a lot even with local gravity being a third of Earth's. Nice little fusion powered wheelbarrow.”
“But... you've been pushing those things out of the slot!”
“With help. Nice little fusion powered rock cutter too.”
“Ruth... when we're not building any more, can I see if this wheelbarrow will turn my compost?”
Ruth looked at him in stunned amazement. Turning compost was long arduous work, even with her Earth muscles. “Airlock, now!” she demanded. It didn't sound like she was worried but he went. She turned off the machine and wheelbarrow and followed.
“I'm here. Why?” he asked, as it started to cycle them into the house dome.
“Because, you are my favourite genius on the whole planet and you've just earned yourself a kiss.”
“Just for being lazy?”
“No, for pointing out that there's a whole class of handy Mer tools that are totally non-threatening but would make life easier for lots of people on Earth and on Mars. We don't even need to use fusion for things like the barrow, I'm sure you've got fuel-cells or something that could power it.”
“Hmm... add a driven wheel and we're talking about an all terrain self-loading wheel-barrow stroke pallet-truck cum fork-lift, aren't we? Every builder probably dreams of one.”
“Yes. Shame we were still hiding and didn't think of it in time for rebuilding Restoration. I think I see some collaborative projects in the future, don't you?”
“I like collaborating with you, Ruth.”
“Hmmm. It's mutual, just hurry up and work out what you want to be when you grow up.”
“Pardon?”
“Are you going to be able to stay on at the university, doing research? Are you going to manage interesting terraforming projects? Are you hoping for a job at the Atlantis-Mars office of mutual forcefield fun? Or what?”
“I don't remember hearing about that last one.”
“Probably because I just made it up.”
“Hmm. Don't know. Does it matter?”
“Enquiring minds want to know.”
“Which ones?”
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“My parents, for instance.”
“Oh.”
“My beloved queen said Boris wouldn't be coming alone. I imagined at the time a squad of ex-classmates, or something. But it seems that Karella has bigger plans. Oh, and I need to talk to the Mars Council, remind me, will you?”
“Sure. Why don't I cook and you call them?”
“Just don't burn the potatoes.”
“I was six, Ruth, and got distracted.”
“Now you're older. And still distractable.”
“By you, certainly. Shall we leave this airlock?”
“Oh, all right.”
----------------------------------------
EMBASSY OF ATLANTIS, FRISOL 8TH OCTOBER, 12.45PM
“Hi, Claudia. This isn't urgent, so tell me to call back later if you like.”
“Go ahead, Ruth. Any new projects to reshape the future of the planet?”
“Not immediately, but Robert's just had an interesting idea for using a thing we call a rock-lifter as a 'turn my compost heap in a couple of minutes' gardening aid, and it might even be a thing that could be mass-produced here, powered by a fuel cell or something. I don't know. Plus we guess every builder on Earth would want one.”
“Sounds very interesting.”
“But that's not what I called about.”
“Go ahead.”
“My cousin Boris's spaceship... Karella has a plan. Rather than make one, they're going to make two or three. Number one will be the prototype, and Boris will do something like fly it to round the moon next week before he comes here, and any bugs get fixed in numbers two and three. Since the amazing portable cargo-pod has collapsed down into a large suitcase, Karella thought it didn't need to be here, and wants it back, and then she had the idea that ship two could bring out ship three as hand luggage, and if ship one is fully OK as designed, then that could accompany it with some more embassy staff and trainee pilots. So... the questions are, would you have any objections to a second ship landing, what are the limits on how many people can come as embassy staff, and what have I forgotten in all of this?”
“Feeding all these extra people?”
“Oh! That was it... do you think there might happen to be a market for a limited supply of frozen fish at some ridiculous mark-up like sugar's getting? Or would there be some objection from the Council?”
“Frozen fish?”
“You know... frozen filleted hake at two or three times the price of bunny? Blame Karella, she's trying to live up to her name again. We could bring some live fish at a really steep mark-up too.”
“Didn't I read hake was practically extinct?”
“That's just because land-folk don't catch many as we herd them away from their nets these days.”
“You're really keen on changing my planet, aren't you?”
“Sorry.”
“That's OK.” Claudia replied, “Every Martian is. I think you ought to check with restaurants, see what they'd give you. But you want veg for it?”
“You can't eat credits on Mars very well. I was just thinking for Mer spacemen, it might work better for them to bring some fish than them bringing dried seaweed or buying gloop. I mean, I'm only avoiding gloop these days because I've got a lovely generous boyfriend.”
“Dried seaweed?”
“Mer journey food. It tastes better than gloop, but isn't as nutritious.”
“Maybe popular with the Japanese community?”
“Oooh, hadn't thought of that. Another trade idea, thanks.”
“So... getting back to the point. I haven't heard any objection to regular runs between Mars and Atlantis, quite the opposite in fact, especially if everyone coming gets properly processed at the spaceport.
"The idea of bringing one spaceship inside another sounds like something out of a children's cartoon, but if it works, go for it. The thought of having two or three of them... are you thinking that there'd be a constant shuttling to and fro?”
“I don't really know. Karella was just thinking that it might help relationships with Russia if we took Koschev back, assuming they eventually do decide they want him. But I really can't see that working myself, since he's an oath-breaker.” The Russian press had decided Koschev was indeed a hero, but the government weren't so sure, and had asked Mars for more decision time.
“No.”
“But anyway, if there were a ship based here able to leave quickly and another one there, irrespective of regular flights, then maybe that might be helpful?”
“Absolutely. If you're willing to do that.”
“We would I assume, be charging through the nose for this service if it doesn't get nailed down in a treaty.”
“What do you want?” Claudia offered.
“Other than that chunk of land and seas as previously mentioned? I'm not sure. How independent is the university?”
“Fairly, but not totally. What are you thinking?”
“If there are going to be growing numbers of Mer on Mars, I'm thinking that, say, some Mer lecturers on suitable topics, say history, ancient earth languages, the Mer culture and language even, might be appropriate. And I'm playing with unapproved ideas, but maybe something reciprocal on Atlantis, even?”
“That sounds quite... reasonable. And I don't think the university would object at all.”
“But really, and I've just thought of this and I think this is a really massive one actually. For such time as there is a Mer community on Mars, not just playing like Mer like to play but living here, generation to generation, I think we'd want Mack's offer of Karella ruling the deeps and shallows of Mars written into that treaty, with Mer law applying to the seas and coasts. I know Mack probably didn't mean it seriously, but he thought it, he said it, and he's not retracted it yet. If Dry Mars and Wet Mars were united in perpetual treaty of friendship, respect and tolerance etcetera, then I don't think there'd be any complaints from anyone about having a extra shuttle standing by in case our friends needed it.”
“Ruth, I think Mack did mean it. And he was just saying the other day, 'a hundred meters of water sounds like a great radiation shield for a city, and it's proven technology, plus being pretty meteor proof too. Why do we want to limit how much water they bring?'”
“Well, there's little things like who is in charge of Mars, who makes the laws, and so on. Not to mention flooding people's field domes will probably upset them.”
“Yes. Some people might get upset if we don't handle it right. There'd need to be all sorts of referenda, I expect. Plus we're not going to stop immigration to Mars, so you're always going to be outnumbered here as well as there. So I presume you won't grant all Martians free settlement rights to Atlantis, or guarantee to build domes every year to house us all.”
“Urm, no.”
“But I think there's space on this planet for two legal systems, especially if there's a clear dividing line and a treaty that's going to be honoured until the end of time.”
“That's really nice to hear. But I think Robert might need help in the kitchen, I smell smoke.”
“I'll let you go then. Oh! You talked about fish... smoked salmon? I think you'd find lots of people willing to give you two or three kilos of veg per hundred grammes of that. From what I hear it costs that on Earth anyway.”
“I'll suggest it, thanks.”
----------------------------------------
EMBASSY OF ATLANTIS, FRISOL 8TH OCTOBER, 6.30PM
“Hi, Ruth!” James said, “Nice wall. Want a few more hands?”
“Aren't you two supposed to be having a lovely time re-planting your field?”
“We finished it.” James said, “And I heard this tiny little rumour that you had a crystal extruder, and were going to put in an underground pool, and I thought it'd be nice to borrow both of those one day.”
“I see, so this is all a cynical attempt at currying favour is it? Welcome.”
“I am a bit confused at what you're doing though. I get the trench to bedrock, that's right and proper. I get the wall, but why have you built a wall, then cut a hole below ground level, and also made it do that loopy thing into a hastily shored-up extra bit of trench and then got what really looks like a tunnel under your new wall? It looks like you've made a whole load of security holes in your security wall. And why are you now busily chopping another section down?”
“It's called, thingumy, careful planning and forethought,” Robert said, grinning, “If we hadn't cut the hole, then Hathie couldn't have got in an hour ago.”
Ruth added, “The wall goes all the way round the claim, and we hadn't finished the tunnel. The tunnel and no ground level entrance is version two of the design, hence the wiggle, and our answer to the questions 'what if I'm trying to get in when there's a storm?' as well as 'so, where do we get the rock to build the top of the wall from?'. We'd just installed the forcefield door and thought we'd finished for the day apart from the hole when we surveyed our work and said 'oops, marsmobile.'”
“You really walled yourselves in, cut a human hole and then realised you needed an even bigger one for the marsmobile in another place?” Margaret asked.
“Yep,” Ruth said, totally unrepentant.
“So, how can we help?” James offered.
“Any experience cajoling an extruder to fill in a hole?”
“Not really. How about we make it a proper gap and tell it to join the two bits of wall instead?”
“Hey, that was my idea,” Ruth said, “you're supposed to be coming along and solving the problems with planning, foresight and experience.”
“Experience: my dad said an extruder is great at making walls and lousy at filling in holes unless you want to program it with the exact size of the hole. Do you remember that funny shaped greenhouse with the tree growing out the top, not far from Lara's?”
“Yes.”
“I asked Dad about it, he told me the guy didn't like what the preset programmes were offering, didn't get any expert advice and just built it using different types of walls. Filling in the final hole just didn't work and didn't work. Hence the tree. If it's not wall, then build with it with presets and cut. Or call up an expert.”
“Thank you James. So, urm, Karella wants me to cover my house dome.”
“Empty hemispherical dome, no problem, there's bound to be a preset plan. Building it around things like your tunnel to your field dome, airlocks and things like that? I'd say call expert. Especially since I think I remember seeing them building domes from the inside for the first few layers.”
“You know what, my friends and relations? I'm going to call an expert before I let this spiky legged crab near my home.”
“What a good idea,” Margaret said.
“Which means all we need to do now is cut this gateway out, cut the hole out, fill in where the hole was and fit the forcefield gateway.”
Someone's screamer chirped a warning, and then they all joined in.
“Or alternatively, we can get put away the toys and get under shelter,” James said, dumping the content of the rock-lifter and shutting it down.
“My thoughts exactly,” Ruth agreed, quickly shutting down the extruder and telling it to empty itself.
“Too many of us for the airlock with the equipment.” Hathellah guessed.
“You and Margaret go ahead, Hathie.” Ruth said, “Robert too. James and I have forcefields, after all.” The note with them had said they'd work as radiation shields too.
“What about the radiation spike?” Robert asked.
“Internally absorbed as extra energy,” James said. He'd thought to ask Boris that.
“I'd love to know how,” Robert muttered to himself as the airlock door closed behind him.
Outside, radiation levels were rising slowly, but the house dome's fabric was good shielding, and screamers were not showing anything dangerous under it. But, as Robert checked the forecast data, the longer term prognosis didn't look good at all. When Ruth and James came in with the equipment, he reported the news. “Ruth, I think we're all staying a while. Last week's solar eruption might have got here early.”
“That isn't due 'till gone midnight!”
“Updated storm thingumy, just in.” Robert replied, “That was the leading edge.”
“So, five of us huddled in my bedroom? Fun! Newlyweds get the bed.”
“Ruth!” Margaret protested, blushing.
“Someone needs to share, Margaret, there's not space on the floor for everyone. And I much as I like you and Hathie, I think it makes more sense for it to be you and James.”
“You could always swap vows with Robert,” James said, “that way you'd get to keep ownership of the bed.”
“Very funny. I have no intention of having one extra person in my bedroom on my wedding night, let alone three.”
“There's always the chance they'll revise the forecast,” Robert said, thinking that there might be a window for everyone to get to their homes.
“And on that basis you're proposing?” Ruth asked, archly.
“I meant we all might be able to leave.”
“I don't think that lets you off, Robert. By the sound of it Ruth doesn't want her new husband in her bedroom with her on her wedding night.” Margaret teased.
“He won't be extra,” Ruth said, “he'll be very much required. But anyway, Robert, absolutely, no way am I marrying you tonight. My beloved queen has plans I need to tell you all about. But this time I'll cook. Hathie, Robert burnt the potatoes at lunchtime.”
“I singed a couple of slices under the grill. That's not the same as burning boiled potatoes.” Robert said, blushing furiously.
“What were you doing to distract him that much, Ruth?” Hathie asked.
“Talking to Claudia,” Ruth said.
“And looking very beautiful and fiddling with your hair like you do when you're thinking.” Robert added.
“He's besotted,” Ruth accused.
“Enchanted,” Robert corrected.
“Would you have him any other way?” Margaret asked Ruth.
“No, but he's still got to meet my parents.”
“Your parents are actually coming?” Robert asked.
“Karella feels that the best person to give Margaret and Hathie a crash course in all things a good mermaid or merwoman ought to know might just be my mum.”
“Hold on...” James said, “Your mum is Laura's aunt?”
“Of course, we're cousins.”
“I mean Lara's aunt Emilia?”
“That's my mum. Emilia Knifeteacher. Of course she doesn't just teach knife fighting.”
“No. All manner of traditional skills.” James said, “Robert, it's too late.”
“What do you mean, it's too late?”
“I mean that if even if you start running now, Ruth's mum will be able to track you down.”
“Why would I want to run?”
“I told you it was too late,” James said, smugly. “But Ruth, your mum needs to spend time with Heather too.”
“Of course she does, and Simon. Can you let him and Alice know?”
“Of course.”
Hathie looked at the two of them, “Now, can one of you please tell me what this whole conversation has been about?”
“As well as mum being a good teacher — one of the best, actually — particularly of the womanly arts of dancing, sewing, knitting, weaving, pipe-playing, dart-shooting and disemboweling sharks, no matter how many legs they've got, she's also a tracker and a seer. Where a seer is someone with a gift for seeing things and people as they really are. Dad is an archivist, expert in ancient languages, and just the pernickety sort of person I'd love to have finding all the things I'm likely to miss in treaty negotiations. I love them to pieces and couldn't stand being around them before I left home.”
“Err... how does that work?” Robert asked.
“I was trying to hide things from myself, run away from truth, that sort of thing. Them saying things like 'it'll all end in tears' or 'be honest with yourself, you're just doing it because you're running from God and trying to ruin your life' really got annoying. Mainly because deep down I knew they were right, which of course made it extra annoying. Oh, and if you want to know about Ophir, then talk to Dad, he not only knows the words but he can do the funny voices too.”
“The voices?” Robert asked, confused.
“It's one of our earliest pieces of literature. You've heard of the Odyssey, this is... sort of our reply.” Ruth said.
“Only less reverent, and less wading through blood.” James said.
“Much funnier, especially when Dad does the voices.” Ruth added.
“Almost certainly unreliable as a historical source,” James added.
“And only in Mer?” Hathie guessed.
“Not at all. It was one of the first Mer works translated into English. Hmm... possibly a silly thought.... what do you think about publishing our old stories?”
“Excellent idea!” Hathie agreed.
“Even better one,” James said, “find someone who's willing to proof-read them first. You know how bad some people's spelling and grammar are, Ruth.”
“Like Dad, you mean?”
“If he's got the time, he'd be excellent. I wonder if Alice would like to publish them.”
“Oooh, a revenue stream. I like the idea of a revenue stream. Do you realise that Karella failed to send me any decent trade goods, except maybe, just maybe, I could sell some seaweed.”
“She sent you seaweed? Why didn't you say?” James asked.
“You can't tell me you like the stuff?”
“Ruth! It's nutritious!”
“Like gloop.”
“And tasty.”
“I guess takes all sorts.” Ruth said.
“What did she send?”
“Red-topped box, over there,” Ruth waved from where she was stirring the soup.
“Oh Ru-uth,” James called, thirty seconds later, “please let someone else stir the soup and have a look at the trade goods Karella sent you.”
“It's packaging? No wonder it tasted much worse than I remembered. I thought my taste buds had changed or something.”
“Behold — the bubble-wrap of the sea,” James held some up for all to see. “And you ate it?”
“I never did spend much time cooking back home, I'm sure Mum fed us that stuff though.”
“Fresh it's OK. But dried? I wonder you weren't sick. I think they put chemicals on it.”
“OK, OK, it was a mistake. What did our beloved monarch send me? Oooh, pretty.”
“Think you might be able to trade them?”
“I certainly hope so. Oooh, and a note, too.”
Ruth read to herself, 'Dear Ruth, you've been yanked from your job and given one that hasn't paid very well so far. These are for you, or for trade. I don't know if they go down well on Mars or not, but if they do attract interest, then the geometrical patterns and blanks can be made by the extruder. It can't do the engraving of course, but your mother said you always had a good eye and a steady hand. I tried bouncing them and they did, at least on my kitchen floor and my sub, but I don't know what Boris's ship might do them, hence the dual-purpose packaging.
'If your friends are really hungry for sea-weed soup, then you can feed them some, but I don't really recommend it without the squid tentacles, they really improve the flavour and reputedly help the effects last a lifetime. Add chili to activate, of course, and the stuff (I can never remember it's name) at the bottom of the box. But you know this stuff, don't you? At least, Your mother tells me she told you once. Karella.' “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. Braincells firing! James, read the second paragraph of this, and tell me if you want me to make Margaret some before you get her pregnant.”
“What?” Margaret asked, confused.
“Squid tentacles,” Ruth said, “according to the oldest texts, were a discovery from around the time of the exodus. But we were Mer before then. Implication: they're not a required ingredient.”
“You've got potion?” Margaret asked.
“The most important ingredients. Squid tentacles help with the flavour, assuming you like squid of course, and help the effects last longer. According to my mum, their beneficial effects come with the side effect of making first time samplers sick, so if parent's could only get their kids to eat their seaweed soup with chilli before they get to try potion, it'd really help.”
“I'm confused,” Robert said.
“Robert, what makes someone Mer? And don't say webbed feet or your sister might disown you.”
“You hear fish.”
“Better hearing in the so-called ultrasonics, yes. But most thought-hearers get that, so with practice you might find you can hear them too.”
“Diving mammal muscles.”
“Extra oxygen storage, yes. What else?”
“Crazy accuracy when throwing darts, quick reactions, urm....”
“The ability to use the oxygen in their blood mainly for their brains and let their muscles work on their own.” Hathellah said.
“That takes practice, true. Hathie, your grandma showed you you could hold your breath longer under cold water, yes?”
“Yes.” Hathie agreed.
“That's part of that training. What stops you holding your breath?” Ruth asked Robert.
“You.. you just need to breathe.”
“It's called the gasp reflex.” Ruth said, “Too much carbon dioxide in your blood and it goes acidic and your body screams for breath and cannot be denied. Unless you've drunk potion, of course, in which case your body says 'Oi, CO2 is high and oxygen is getting low, lower, oi, you in charge, get air soon, kido! Oxygen is going... going. gone, hey, you're unconscious! Let's breathe then.' At which point you're unconscious and your lungs are filling themselves with water, which soon turns into being dead. But as long as you don't push yourself you can swim about twice as long as normal in perfect safety. Hyperventilating only reduces your CO2 levels, really it's not worth it for any purpose. You may, if you're feeling scientific, try holding your breath on land until you fall unconscious, at which point you'd better have a good friend there to clean out your windpipe in case you vomit. Always swim with full lungs and do not breathe out until you can breathe in again.”
“You now know all the important bits of why taking the potion is dangerous.” James said, “Native gasp reflex is too powerful to resist. Potion-drinker's gasp reflex isn't, and also includes an element of oxygen starvation not present in anyone's native gasp reflex.”
“Oooh, I can't wait!” Hathellah said, “Chili con mouldy cabbage for me please!”
“'Mixed with old shoe curry and anchovy flavoured boiled sweets.' is the original quote, according to my mother,” Ruth said, “but that's for the full potion. My guess is the old shoe and anchovy is from the squid tentacles. Expect something worse.”
“Worse?” Margaret asked, “how can it be worse?”
“Chilli con mouldy cabbage curry with a delicate aftertaste of concentrated stomach acid?” Robert suggested.
“Luverly, I can't wait.” Hathellah said, “Nor can I think of a much better time to taste it, based on this current storm warning.”
“What's it say?” Ruth asked.
“High flux — take cover underground — expected in one hour's time, lasting for twenty-four hours.”
“I'll call mum,” Robert said.
“She knows we're here.”
“Yes, but high flux is going to glitch things, like networks, so I want her to know know.”
“And I'll let Alice know,” James said.