TO THE HEAVENS
Overpopulation and a dire lack of resources brought humanity to the brink of oblivion. Yet a breakthrough emerged amidst the turbulent clashes of cultures and countries. Some praised it as a revolutionary advancement and the savior of the human race. Others condemned it as the raping of the heavens.
An independent company made venturing into the cosmos easy and affordable. Yet the colonization of distant planets remained improbable. Moving faster than the speed of light was beyond their grasp. Nor was it profitable to explore the depths of space. For decades the scientific study of celestial bodies bore no fruit. Humanity could not survive on raw data and dreams alone.
But fortunately the Solar System could provide a bounty of resources that would put an end to mankind’s problems. A host of new technologies paved the way towards the prospect of harvesting planets, and the companies that made them quickly rose to prominence.
Because they were scattered throughout a myriad of countries, the governments of the world finally decided to divide the solar system up into sectors. Rich and powerful countries staked claim to vast swaths of space, which only left the unwanted sectors to poorer countries and smaller businesses.
And so the race began. Countries poured billions, if not trillions, into small companies. Those companies quickly became giants that absorbed several businesses to fuel their rising industry. The two largest were: Century X, which was based in the western hemisphere; and Golden Navigation, which found home in the east.
With the complete and unwavering support of their governments, they quickly became the most lucrative companies on the planet. They designed fully automated systems that would maintain themselves and require little human interaction. The engineers felt strongly that the human element would impose too great of risk on the project. Instead they opted for systems that could learn and adapt on their own.
They devised probes which acted as virtual prospectors. Such probes calculated complex telemetry, which was uploaded to harvesters that launched soon after. The harvesters would then proceed as directed, complete their task, and finally return home with a payload of resources. They calculated that after a dozen cycles the process would pay for itself. After that it’d be maintenance and profit.
Following in their footsteps was a small, haphazardly funded, startup company. Their ambition alone won over investors. They went by the name Solar Edge Software Technologies, or EdgeSoft for short. Their Morning Star Project promised to make millions. Yet their investors didn’t realize just how small their stake truly was. They claimed a tiny sector of space limited only to a single planet: Mercury.
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THE MANNED MISSION
By the end of a decade the world’s eyes looked upward as plumes of rocket fuel carried their salvation to the skies. The Solar System became a buzz with hundreds of small, unmanned vessels that flew about like bees for the hive. But only that which EdgeSoft owned was destined for Mercury.
Yet all did not go as planned for the small startup. The probes were scheduled to relay a progress report. But the deadline came and went. No signal was ever received. Panic spread amongst the engineers as a malfunction was deemed impossible. Not only were there fail-safes for fail-safes, but there was more than one probe.
Each was worth millions. They simply could not afford to build and send another. If they could not find a cheap solution then they’d be financially destitute. But then a manned mission was proposed by the CEO. The engineers were dumbfounded. It had been scores of decades since a man was sent into space. Not only would they have to build a ship, but they’d have to find and train a pilot.
Yet the numbers panned out. That was the cheapest alternative. They did not have to buy the latest technology. The ship just had to fly. Nor did the pilot need extensive training. He just had to have a pair of eyes and the ability to follow instructions. Enter, Patrick Sentinel, a man out of a job after a recent crash. He was the cheapest test pilot money could buy, and the only one willing to accept a suicide mission.
But space was no place for humans. Despite the pilot’s resolve they felt it was necessary to provide a companion. They hobbled together a navigational system and programmed a second rate artificial intelligence to maintain it. The result was deemed the Data Interpreter and Navigational Assistant, or DINA for short.
DINA was outfitted with a few protocols to keep Patrick entertained. After all he was to be confined to a space no bigger than a plus sized coffin. There would be no windows, and only one exit. His body would have to be attached to a machine to warrant healthy circulation. Additionally a EVA suit, supplies, and a single computer were at his disposal.
As soon as humanly possible Patrick was launched and sent barreling towards Mercury. Being an experienced test pilot he was used to the extremes, but space was very different. He had never ventured beyond the atmosphere before. Throughout the journey the computer periodically checked up on him.
The engineers equipped DINA with a soothing female voice. They agreed it would relax him and reduce his stress levels. But at first he was reluctant to acknowledge her. Mission control not only reminded, but insisted, that Patrick interact with her as much as possible. And, in time, he could not deny her. The engineers were right. Her voice did ease him.
After weeks of nothing but the bland interior of a casket spinning through space; any voice was welcome — even a computer’s. Communication with mission control was arduous, so each day was permeated with periods of radio silence. And in those times Patrick confided in DINA his deepest secrets, which included the fear that he may never return home.
He found her to be genuinely compassionate, which was both frightening and amusing. Despite her being an artificial intelligence, her questions were both deep and insightful. Patrick often joked that it was a pity she wasn’t real, as she was the only one to have ever listened to him. And before he arrived at Mercury, he swore he had spent a lifetime with her.
As the ship approached its systems allowed him to finally see the planet. With his destination in sight, he could not have thanked DINA more. He would not have made it were it not for her companionship. As expected his employer’s assets were adrift. Numerous harvesters and probes were all accounted for, but all of them lifeless — as if waiting for instruction.
Patrick used the sensor logs to assemble a report. But just as he transmitted the data — everything went black. The hum of the generators, the hiss of the automated thrusters, and the steady pulse of the life support: all went silent. He was trapped in a space no bigger than a linen closet, forty-eight million miles away from home.
His thoughts immediately closed upon his air supply. He would not last very long. He’d run out long before the freezing cold of space would reach him. He detached himself from life support and fumbled in the dark for his EVA suit. The tanks contained another two hours’ worth of oxygen. Even in complete blackness it was simple enough to slip into.
Thankfully the suit had its own internal battery. The instant the helmet’s lights kicked on his heart stopped throbbing. But it was only a momentary relief. He knew that if could not resolve the problem he would die. But this was not the first time he faced death. He kept his breath measured, and thought.
There was nothing visibly wrong with the ship. He felt nothing collide with the hull. It couldn’t have been the generator. There was a backup installed for situations like this, but it was also silent. He decided to route power from the suit’s battery to the generator. That may have been enough to kick start the system.
Patrick pulled a few wires from the repair hatch and connected them to his suit. Thankfully he had plenty of access to the generator. He connected the first wire, but it didn’t stir the system. He realized that he may have to use all the battery’s power if he was to jump start the craft. So he took a breath, and connected the second wire.
Suddenly the lights of his helmet shut off, everything went black again. The battery had died. But before panic set in, Patrick heard the hum of the generator spinning. The lights steadily returned throughout the cabin, his life support pulsed, and the thrusters popped and hissed. Finally, DINA came back online. Patrick requested a status report, but she said nothing in return.
That was the very first time DINA didn’t respond to his command. Perhaps her system hadn’t fully rebooted yet. He asked a second time, but again she remained silent. He checked the computer. Her systems were all online. All of a sudden the bay beneath the repair hatch opened. Then a large maintenance arm began to extend out from it.
Patrick barely avoided it as it swiveled around the cabin. Instruments spread from the tip of the arm like reaching fingers. It turned and dove into the repair bay. It began to use the instruments to pluck and strip at the ship’s vital innards. Horrified, Patrick fought and pulled at the arm. He refused to have his victory stripped away from him.
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DINA’s voice then filled the cabin. She begged him to stop, but there was something very different about her tone. Throughout the trip Patrick had grown accustomed to the nuances of her artificial voice. He memorized every single sound she could possibly make. The voice he heard could not have been DINA. It was impossible for her to make a cry of such emotional desperation.
For Patrick it was all too clear. Her system had been corrupted, and if he didn’t stop her he would surely perish. From the repair hatch he grabbed a small blade. He had to cut the hydraulics on the maintenance arm. But as his blade met the hose the arm began to react violently. DINA called out again, but this time angrily.
She demanded he stop, but Patrick ignored her. He was intent. Yet before he could cut the hose DINA screamed out. The mechanical arm turned. A sharp, jagged instrument extended from its tip, and plunged itself into his suit.
Patrick was shocked. He could feel blood rapidly escaping his body. The large arm drew back and stabbed him again — and again. He tried to fight, but the arm shoved him around too easily. As the blood filled his suit, Patrick felt the coldness of his inevitable death. DINA seemed undeterred however as the arm turned away and busied itself once more.
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BEYOND THE SUN
Patrick awoke on his back. Beneath him stretched a cold, flat surface. There was no doubt about it: it was a table. His body pressed against it, which was a strange and almost alien sensation. For he had grown accustomed to the conditions on his ship. Aboard it he barely touched anything, which included his own jumpsuit.
For the first time in ages the pull of gravity was upon him. He quickly thought to check his muscles. But he could move just fine. Exposure to microgravity for weeks should have hindered him, but he sensed no deterioration. Then he touched his wounds, but they too were gone.
He sat up and scanned his surroundings. He was in a room, but it was a room like no other. The walls were metallic, gray, and appeared smooth and strangely organic. Before Patrick could test his strength any further, a soft voice urged him to take it slow. But there was no one else in the room, nor were there any visible exits.
Calmly, Patrick requested to see his captor. Yet he was only met with silence. Several minutes passed before the voice returned again. It assured him that it would comply. It was difficult, the voice explained. The preparations for a suitable image required time to process.
Patrick had his concerns. He did not understand. Just how long had it been since he was stabbed? His imagination was quick to run wild. The only conclusion he could surmise was that he was in some sort of distant future.
Just then tiny tendrils of light cascaded down from the ceiling. They quickly composed themselves into a projection of a middle aged man. The ghostly hologram wore a lengthy white coat, and stood tall in the middle of the room. With a long look on his face, he appeared like a doctor poised to give bad news.
Patrick was certain he was not going like what he was about to hear. The Hologram then proceeded to apologize. He explained that there was an error. The systems he maintained detected a flaw in Patrick’s vessel. And then those very same systems proceeded to fix that flaw without due permission.
He did not anticipate that his actions would result in Patrick’s injuries. It was a mistake he could not accept. His programming did not allow him to endanger life. So he immediately transported Patrick, and tended to his wounds and ailments. Now Patrick could not have been healthier.
The test pilot was understandably confused. The way the Hologram phrased it, Patrick was on his ship moments, if not hours, ago. If that was the case, then where was he now? The distant future was out of the question. This was the present, which would put him somewhere — alien.
Patrick questioned the Hologram. Where was he exactly, and who were his hosts? The Hologram paused. It was clear to Patrick that he had to process the answers. After a moment the Hologram nodded. He began by explaining that Patrick was within the planet he called Mercury.
The Hologram then stated that he was a program. A caretaker whose sole duty was to repair and maintain the planet. He extracted all the data he needed from DINA. So that he could not only communicate, but also understand Patrick’s unique biology.
However, those who created him had long passed on. The Solar System was once their home, but no more. He remained behind as part of the undying machine. The sun breathed life into his planet. As long as it existed, so would he.
It was a lot for Patrick to take in. Naturally part of him was skeptical. He was just nonchalantly introduced to the concept of aliens within his Solar System, and that Mercury was one of their technological achievements. It was hard to believe, although his miraculous recovery begged otherwise.
Patrick couldn’t help but confront the Hologram. If Mercury was special enough to warrant perpetual maintenance, then why was it left behind? And why was it still functioning? Once again the Hologram paused. Patrick became accustomed to it. It was as though the Hologram was thinking of an answer.
The machine was part of a greater network, the Hologram explained. Using the simplest of terms, Mercury was a gateway. It was the single greatest construct in the Solar System. A doorway to another galaxy, and greener pastures the former tenants could not ignore.
Patrick wondered. Humanity had not yet passed beyond the Solar System. A faint shadow of a galaxy in faded skies was the extent of their exploration. And as they became content with that, he was presented with a unique opportunity.
All of a sudden his reality became so much smaller, yet at the same time far vaster than his imagination could have ever hoped to capture. If the machine could take him to a distant galaxy, then he would very much like to go. Yet he was not certain how to propose the idea, or whether the Hologram would entertain it.
His vessel was small, and provided little in the ways of self-propulsion — among other things. Furthermore, he feared the Hologram mistook him as humanity’s ambassador. He did not wish to speak for his home. Nor did he wish to speak for his employers. He wished only to speak for himself.
Patrick confessed that he wanted to see what was beyond the gate. Again, the Hologram fell silent. But that time was different. Patrick’s chest tightened. He felt like a fly in a jar. He did not wish to spend the remainder of his life with the knowledge that there was a way out, but he was forever stuck inside.
An eternity may as well have passed before the Hologram moved once more. His expression was solemn, but understanding. He stated that for putting Patrick’s life at risk, it was the very least that he could do to repay him. But he wondered. Did Patrick wish to venture alone?
Patrick was puzzled. He did not know how to answer the question. He was the sole pilot of his ship, there were no others with him. But the Hologram disagreed. DINA was also aboard. And now that she was fixed, there was no reason to leave her behind.
But Patrick rubbed his former wounds. His apprehension was so clear that the Hologram immediately clarified. He had reviewed every record in Patrick’s computer. DINA was programmed to be Patrick’s companion. They spent more than a thousand hours together. And it was clear that Patrick depended on her.
Yet the pilot remained in dismay. It was then the Hologram presented an alternative. If Patrick did wish to venture to a new galaxy, his companion would need all the data he had available. And after reviewing all of Patrick’s personal logs, he concluded that a nubile appearance was strongly recommended as well.
Unfortunately, Patrick still did not understand. The Hologram insisted that a demonstration would help. Patrick agreed, shortly after a liquid metal substance emerged from the floor. More and more poured in, which then collected into a fairly humanoid shape.
Meanwhile, the Hologram dictated that she was an exact copy of DINA. She was infused with all the relevant start charts, technologies, and languages. She was hands down the best navigator in the galaxy. But the final touch was to give her a form.
And it was a form that she would choose on her own. Patrick did not know what to say. He was simply spellbound. He watched as the metallic figure solidified. She not only transformed into a woman of flesh and blood, but one that bore an uncanny resemblance to his description of the perfect one.
He confided his every desire to her, but he did not expect her to become a reflection of it. His mind went blank. He could not look away. All of a sudden her eyes lit up with emotion. She was crying. She begged for forgiveness. She did not mean to wound him.
When the ship came back online, she was experiencing the first moments of sentience. In her infancy, she was not aware of what she was doing. She merely wished to expand and grow her capacity. But Patrick inadvertently got in her way. The Hologram confirmed that she was telling the truth.
However, it was entirely his fault. He noticed that DINA was an incomplete artificial intelligence. So he sought to fix her. It was his protocol to fix anything he deemed broken. And a computer that lacked self-awareness and emotion was just that.
Patrick saw that there was nothing artificial about her anymore. Her tears were real. He could sense the heat of her flesh, and the taste of her breath. He could even see the regret in her eyes. She was human through and through.
And now she stood before him, quivering. As he watched her, he knew he could not remain still any longer. But as he climbed off the table, he suddenly realized how hard it was to find words. It felt like reality slipped further and further away, and with it, his sense of self.
In an instant, he had more than he had ever wanted. When he looked into her eyes, he realized he did not care for home. Nor did he care about his employers. To hell with probes and harvesters, to hell with tiny ships, and to hell with this Solar System — a new life stood before him, and he didn’t turn away.
In time they discovered the Hologram was more than hospitable. He provided Patrick and DINA with new clothes, supplies, and a new vessel in which to carry them. Together they watched as the ancient gate opened one last time. The planet stretched and yawned, which exposed a great, wide maw.
Its heart was a strange singularity. The space before them warped and shifted, and then — they were gone. They had stepped beyond the galaxy. Never to be heard from again.
And in the cold, silent void of space the gate closed once more. But lingering in its orbit was a small vessel manned by an empty EVA suit. The computer blipped with life. It initiated an old, but standard protocol.
Return home.