Dan Sharp had just read Z's report about the Chandelier Room visit and meeting the entity she had named the Elder. Because of the twenty-minute round-trip communication delay, he couldn't have any kind of a conversation with her, but he was determined that she be able to see his expression of disapproval, and not just words in a message. Bandwidth be damned, he faced-off against the camera.
“Commander Nasri, I’ll be clear from the start. You have acted in disobedience of a NASA directive. You were to refrain from wearing a headpiece until we could observe you for neurological damage. I'm tempted to say that your disobedience is proof that there has been some brain damage, except that I also know that ‘ability to improvise’ was one of the personality traits that made you commander of this mission. You have now compromised your health further. Since we don't know what side-effects you may experience, I order you to begin preparations for an emergency change of command to Tanaka, should she need to take over for medical reasons... or because I order it.”
...
Z was only mildly intimidated by Sharp’s rebuke. She sent off a note to Patrick.
MESSAGE: Elizabeth Nasri to Patrick Burke CC: NASA Information Office
Pat,
I just watched Sharp’s message. I get it. He doesn’t want me to take the risk. But it comes too late. I already wore the headpiece, I’m already at risk. Better to keep putting me at risk in order to get answers than to miss the chance to learn about this place we’re planning to colonize. Remember, through my eyes this is not the barren, vacant city it appears like to you and Sharp. When I wear the headpiece I see a collision of the present with an ethereal image of the past. I see ghosts of the people who lived here.
If we leave here only understanding the layout of the city then we’ve failed. It’s my duty to understand who occupied this city of ghosts.
Z
MESSAGE: Patrick Burke to Elizabeth Nasri CC: NASA Information Office
Z,
Understood. Let me circulate your position. I doubt anyone here has given consideration to the world you are seeing. One request in return for being your nudge: please call them spirits, not ghosts… as in City of Spirits. I kinda like the sound of that.
Pat
...
The platinum assistant was neatly dressed in a tailored pantsuit that day. It waited patiently at a respectful distance until Triche motioned it closer. When it reached the front of her desk, it spoke in the voice of one of the associate producers.
“Triche? We're going to send you a signal to patch into your screen. We’ve been monitoring their uplink from the planet’s surface and hit on a transmission from a second source. We don't know how we've broken into their communications, but we're receiving a video message from the NASA Administrator.”
Triche did nothing; her platinum assistant turned with the grace of a runway model, pointed at the screen and performed the patch. Triche watched the NASA Administrator's chastisement and smiled. It was a coup to have found a way to intercept the ground station video transmissions. World Media would be sure to use this tidbit when the time was right. Now was not the time.
Triche gave instructions back to her assistant. “Hold this in case it becomes useful. By every means make sure you keep the connection with the second source.”
Her assistant nodded, pivoted, and returned to the couch where it transmitted the directions.
...
The roto-copter flew down the middle of a green, alpine valley toward a black dot at the base of a snow-capped mountain. A chipper young woman who looked the age of a college intern smiled and pointed past the front windshield. “There it is, Senator. That’s the computing cluster we’re going to visit. Mr. Ross likes to keep the clusters in cool climates because of the heat they generate.”
Senator Crowley, the Chair of the Subcommittee on Space, Science, and Competitiveness, squinted at the dot as it grew and began to take shape. “And this is one of many centers that Logisen uses?”
“Correct, Senator. Logisen maintains 44 clusters in North America, 38 in Europe, and 50 in South America. Proximity to our sentient control centers allows for faster scaled response to changes in transportation or infrastructure load.”
Crowley turned to her as if he were questioning a witness at a hearing. “You mean that Logisen has computing facilities separate from decision-making facilities…”
“That’s correct.” She cupped her hands into a sphere. “Sentient infrastructure and transportation operates in concentric command zones, beginning with the AI in the device or vehicle; that is where the immediate reactionary decisions are made.” She separated her hands as if to hold a basketball. “The next concentric circle involves the sentient control centers which provide ongoing analysis, machine learning, and coordination of all of the devices that are its responsibility; that is what allows a city’s traffic patterns to be coordinated to provide the most efficient transport of goods and services through busy streets.” Then she held her hands apart as if holding a large balloon. “All of that what-if analysis requires significant amounts of background computing; that’s where computing clusters like this one come into play.”
Crowley saw that they had almost arrived at the cluster. What had been a black dot against a field of green was now a giant, asterisk-shaped, obsidian building. “So this is the dumb end of the thought process?”
“Oh no. Our Sentient Systems are organized like the lobes of the brain; each performs different specialties but work together to make rational decisions on a monumental scale. It’s how we efficiently manage the day-to-day operations of one-third of the planet, including,” she smiled, “NASA’s supply chain needs for building and operating hundreds of spacecraft.”
“Is it a concern to management that Logisen is responsible for the quality of life for so many people?” Crowley asked as the copter touched down on the lawn near the building entrance. As the door opened, Julius Ross, CEO of Logisen, exited the building and strode confidently across the lawn toward them.
Ross was tall and slender, dressed like dandy in a black crew neck shirt and a lavender sharkskin suit. He smiled and put out his hand for Senator Crowley. “Good to see you, Senator. I’m ecstatic about showing you our operations, personally.”
“And I’m very interested to see those operations,” Crowley replied.
“Mr. Ross,” the young woman interjected. “Senator Crowley just asked me if management is concerned that Logisen is responsible for the quality of life of so many people.”
Julius laughed. “Concerned? Every second of every day. That’s why we make sure we never fail. In fact, we are even focused on expansion. There’s a city on the planet Mars that I think will need some Sentient Infrastructure in the near future. Am I right, Senator?”
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...
Z faced the thrones for a second, then removed the headpieces from their carrying case, crossed the room and placed them in the box in the alcove. Then she looked over at Noriko. “Let me know when we're at pressure.”
Noriko looked up from the gauge. “It'll take fifty minutes. Make yourself comfortable. Go through your experience one more time, while we wait. I'd like to see it, in context.” Z complied and, while walking over to the wall beneath the balcony, began.
“When I was on the platform above, I saw him working on something. By the time I got down to him, he'd taken the headpieces out of a box on a credenza, here...”
“The credenza that's not here anymore,” observed Tanaka.
“Neither are the gold and silver carpet and the tapestries,” Z added, walking across the room toward the thrones. “He carried them over to here, where he kissed each one and put it in the box. That's when the door opened.”
“And that's why you think repeating the process may have the same result? It’s a long shot, but why not try.”
Z wanted to be sure the crew understood this was different than her first experience wearing the headpiece. “The room is special, that's why it's hidden. And he was special. Of all the Martians I see when I wear the stones, he is the only one who reacted to me. He spoke directly to me.”
...
At Mission Control Center, technicians sat ready at their stations, alternating their attention between the readings on their consoles and the giant screen in front of them, showing the crew pressurizing the Chandelier Room. A group of VIPs sat in the observation room. Patrick and Sharp stood on the overlook. As Z talked through her first experiences, the video stream showed Dunlap in the background, checking the instruments on the atmosphere feed.
The Administrator carefully watched the preparations on screen and remarked to Patrick. “Nasri’s making another full-on leap into the unknowable. I don’t know if I should commend her or discipline her. What do you think her chances are, Pat?”
“Dunlap’s got the air lock installed. They sealed the room. Everything will go fine.”
“No, I mean what do you think her chances are of seriously scrambling her brains?”
“I’ve known Z for a few years. She weighs all the factors before she goes in.”
“I’m just concerned. This is a little bit goofy, this kissing headpieces and seeing Martians. I would have imagined it being more straightforward. I’m not convinced she didn’t get her brain toasted by that thing she wears.”
“I know you were pissed-off that Z ad-libbed, but for a group of astronauts acting way outside of their mission profile, they've done an amazing job. You have to give her credit. She’s completely pivoted this team to new priorities, on the fly.”
“And they met their mission goals, too. Pressurizing this room will give us a chance to test the porosity of the walls. If this works, we should be able to seal off the Terminal on the next mission and build a base there.”
Tanaka’s voice came over the comm. “Okay, we're at pressure and temperature, minus two degrees, Celsius. You're clear to go, Commander. Kiss carefully.”
Z reached to the collar of her EVA suit and snapped open the locks, then placed a gloved hand on the sides of her helmet and gave it a steady counter-clockwise turn. She lifted it just enough to feel a stream of cold air inside. She took a breath, then smiled, “Good job, guys,” and lifted the helmet off.
Every technician looked up from their readouts to the giant screen on the wall in front of them. At the sight of Elizabeth Nasri, helmetless in the Chandelier Room, the entire Control Center broke into cheers and applause. With her helmet off, whisps of her breath left her mouth and nose. In the progression of this unusual experiment, Patrick quietly noted that Elizabeth Asala Nasri was the first Earthling to breathe the new atmosphere of Mars.
The pocket drone was positioned to cover what was more like a ceremony than a process. Z, carefully carrying the headpieces in her gloved hands, walked down the center of the room, then behind the three thrones and over to the box. She gently kissed one and put it in the box, with no result. Then she kissed the second, also with no result. Finally, she closed her eyes, kissed the third and placed it in the box and closed the lid.
That's when the door opened. And there, slumped-over onto the desk, was the Elder. Z darted toward the doorway.
Dunlap called out, “Wait, Z. Let us place the door brace first.”
Z heard him through her earpiece and stopped. As Dunlap positioned the brace, she looked through the doorway at the body. He looked as if he'd been alive yesterday, and here he was how many thousands of years later, still in his chamber, as if she had just left him.
Dunlap laid the door brace along the track and gave Z the thumbs-up. “We're good. Go ahead.”
Z rushed into the room. The pocket drone flew toward the doorway as Z knelt beside the Martian to look at his face. There was no sign of pain there. His expression was calm, as if resigned that he would die there.
The drone followed Z to bring the Martian into close-up. As it approached, Tanaka called to the Commander, “Is he the one you met?”
And as Z turned to reply, the camera caught the tear rolling down her cheek.
“Yes.” Then she looked back at the Elder and saw that his headpiece was gone.
...
It made for great television. The beautiful face of Elizabeth Nasri, rapt and tearful, turning directly to the drone, accidentally, at exactly the right moment. In slightly more than ten minutes, the video had danced through the ether from Mars to Earth, into World Media's studio and back out to the planet.
Triche let a smile of self satisfaction spread across her lips, cocked her head, as if listening to beautiful music, and said aloud to her control room crew, “Can you hear that? It's the sound of the whole world sighing in unison. And those viewers, with their heartfelt sighs, have just made her a star.”
...
Kate flashed her badge to a guard, burst through the doorway and rushed down the aisle to the platform where Patrick was talking with the NASA Administrator. She thrust her tablet in front of them. “Check this out.”
The two looked at the World Media broadcast of the Mars transmission they had seen only moments earlier.
“They've been running the whole transmission, unedited, from the outset. We've been hacked. I have network security on it.”
Patrick glanced up at the transmission, realizing just how much embargoed information had just aerosoled across Earth. “Shit. Okay, damage control.” He turned from Kate to the Administrator, “I'll get a message to them on a secure channel to cut the video short and to sign-off like they were recording a video press release.”
Without waiting for agreement from the Administrator, Patrick ran down to the Mission Comm. Twenty slow, painful minutes later, during which Z replaced her helmet because of the cold and Tanaka discussed cutting skin, flesh, and bone samples to analyze and Dunlap asked Z why she thought the headpiece was more tolerable to wear the second time and Z revealed that she had seen hundreds of ghosted Martians boarding transports, Z finally received the message and turned to the camera.
“We're going to sign-off now. We hope you enjoyed sharing in this special edition of Path of Discovery.”
Patrick winced. Sharp spat his disgust, “Well, that looked exactly like what it was: a big fuck-up with badly disguised bullshit.”
...
It felt gratifying to not just be watchful, but exploring again.
...
Back at World Media’s studio, the anchors continued their dissection of the transmission. What had Robert Dunlap asked Nasri—about the headpiece being easier to wear the second time?
“It seems to this reporter that there’s a lot more going on with this mission than we’re hearing, down on Earth. Let’s go to Houston, to Anna Patrie, former Space Programs Manager for NASA. Anna? Your thoughts on what we’ve just heard.”
Anna, sitting with a rendering of Mars as her backdrop, was petit and intense. “Normally, a mission runs anywhere from a few hours to months ahead of the public release of information. This is usually to give scientists time to verify any observations. But it seems like this should have been more transparent. After all, NASA was pretty forthcoming about the discovery of the city and what they’re calling the headpieces. It makes you wonder what happened to Commander Nasri the first time she wore the headpiece.”
The anchor added, “It makes you wonder what Nasri knows about the Martian civilization that we don’t. She described seeing ghosts.”