Authors: Doug Vossen
Skyfire (14 page)
I must curb my candor. I know better than this, especially with such an undeveloped species. However, usually when I am separated from the whole it is in times of combat, not civilized conversation. Oddly, I am enjoying this. It has been too long. When this is over, I will figure out a way to be alone with my own thoughts on a regular basis.
“Ronak, tell me about Dr. Kapur.”
“Certainly. Mahesh Kapur was born into a family of moderate privilege in Dehli, India, in 1965. Sixteen years later, he and his family immigrated to the United States after some property development ventures became insolvent. They used the last of their monetary reserves to start over in this region, in a place called Edison, New Jersey.”
“Ronak, not to be rude, but can we skip to where this applies to right now?”
Why would he not wish to know all of it? Isn’t anything pertinent to the scenario of prime importance? Of course. Human brains still possess comparatively limited space for immediate recall of information.
“As you wish, colonel. He is significant to you, and to this situation, because of his penchant for studying the universe. He went to Harvard University, studied Physics, and subsequently moved on to graduate study in quantum physics, as well as astrophysics. Very few are able to bridge the gap between the enormity of the grand cosmos and the realm of the sub-microscopic, as he does. He has a PhD in both fields. Recently, he has been attempting to put what many of you consider to be esoteric into a quantum framework.”
“OK, so he’s smart. He’s an interface you can tolerate. Got it.”
There is far more to it than that.
Ronak gathered that terran Army officers could be impatient when they had little time to plan and needed to assimilate only the most important snippets of information
.
“Of note, Dr. Kapur has a family of three: a wife who is a psychiatrist, a daughter who is a graduate student in his field, and a son of twenty years who is mentally ill. It is likely they are with him, especially considering his daughter spends a good deal of time helping him with his research. It could present an inconvenient field condition for your warriors.”
“Understood. We’ll take that into consideration when accounting for seats on our aircraft.”
I must say, I am impressed with how quickly he has accepted me. Other less-evolved species have resorted to outright murder.
“Is there anything else you wish to know?” offered Ronak.
“Absolutely. But as you touched on earlier, now is not the time,” said McColgan.
“I agree.”
“Shall we take a walk to Major Rugerman’s S2 shop? Everyone should start trickling in shortly.”
“That is acceptable.”
The two walked out into the evening. The entity hanging over the city served as a constant reminder that life would never again be the same. The military personnel and equipment in Liberty State Park reinforced this truth. Where one ordinarily saw families on day trips to national landmarks, there was now a professional military planning an operation.
Walking side-by-side with Ronak, McColgan felt the clang of pocket change against his leg. This got him thinking. “Ronak, I just thought of something I’d really like to know the answer to.”
“Of course.”
I do quite love the inquisitive nature of undeveloped species.
“As you said before, most of our society’s problems stem from greed and ego. Even with perfect communication and information, how did you fix this? Once people couldn’t bullshit each other any more, what did you do?”
“That is quite a broad question.”
“OK, what about money? Do you have money?”
“We stopped using arbitrary currency centuries ago,” replied Ronak.
“What’s the alternative - trading goods and services directly?”
“We operate under what you would most aptly identify as a resource-based economy.”
“How does it work?”
“Well, to put it simply, our planet has enough of everything for everyone.”
“Must be nice,” said the colonel sarcastically.
How little he realizes.
“Colonel, your planet has more resources per capita than ours ever did. It truly is a magnificent specimen.”
“Fair enough. So it’s a distribution problem.”
“Distilled to its most basic level, the issues you have right now are with both distribution and motivation.”
“How did you overcome such issues? Was it all brain implants and transparency of information?”
“Transparency is fundamental to all aspects of our civilization. We utilize it to, as terrans say, ‘level the playing field.’ This produces results in all situations that accommodate the needs of the many over those of the few.”
“So how does this apply to a resource-based economy?”
“After our singularity, connectivity continued to improve exponentially. As you see in your technology, things continually get faster, smaller, and more efficient. We eventually utilized this principle to conduct an honest inventory of all resources on our planet by location. This applied to everything, from basic foodstuffs to luxury items.”
“So what was the stepping stone from knowing what you had to getting it where it needed to go?” McColgan was enthralled. He wished he could block reality and learn everything about Ronak and the future’s potential.
“Our greatest logisticians and mathematicians developed an algorithm that calculated the most efficient path for resources to travel to satisfy demand in all areas. The algorithm continuously optimizes its own solution based on our global supply and demand.”
“OK, so who does the actual work then?”
Ronak looked puzzled. “I don’t understand your question.”
“Well, who’s doing the farming for food? Who ships things across your planet? What compels people to take ownership of whatever task is theirs?”
“Amazing things happen when biology and technology begin co-evolution. Technology across all sectors grows just as the technology within us. Every year tasks become less and less a burden to accomplish. The vast majority of distribution is raw materials that are loaded into devices that can produce almost all consumer goods a citizen wants.”
“So, for lack of a better term, most of what changes hands up front is the ink for 3D printers?”
“Indeed. Resource distribution is streamlined with every improvement to the system’s technology. Mathematicians continuously refine algorithms; less and less effort is required to get everyone what they need. In addition, knowledge of the Veil does not hurt when considering mundane matters. We use all we have available to us.”
“What makes people keep the system running if not getting ahead of everyone else? It all sounds very socialist.”
“Colonel, why do you say socialist with such scorn?”
“I was raised to work for what I get,” said McColgan. “Socialism sounds great in theory, but it has never succeeded on our planet. Corruption and laziness take root too quickly. Did you not have that problem?”
Ronak thought for a few seconds. “Perfect information, combined with the shame of not living up to one’s responsibilities, is a powerful motivator. But as I said, technology allows the accomplishment of most everything through automation and other efficiencies.”
“Does this make people lazy?”
“On the contrary - it allows people to pursue that for which they are most passionate. When people care about something, they are significantly more likely to do it well. Our best achievements tend to come from people who do not have to worry where their next meal is coming from.”
“Do people try to take more than their share?”
“Negative, perfect information typically precludes such detrimental behavior.”
“But doesn’t that make you crazy? I would never want to give up that level of privacy.”
I do enjoy time away from universal connectivity. “
That is a sacrifice we were willing to make. It is the natural course of evolution. However, this is not to say person-to-person access can’t be limited. We still use what you would refer to as ‘firewalls’ on a case-by-case basis, dictated by circumstance.”
“Ronak, I get what you’re saying, but all of this is going to be a really tough sell with most humans, especially Americans.”
“Nationality and self-imposed borders are irrelevant and counterproductive. You are all terran. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“From your perspective, it probably is better. I envision a very tough road ahead politically if we survive whatever that thing over the city is.”
“You will adapt, or you will die.”
The two approached the artillery battery close to the brigade operations center. There was a commotion by the cannons, soldiers criss-crossing between the various tents in the area. It was clear preparation was underway for the upcoming operation to retrieve Dr. Kapur.
If nothing else, this will be one of the more interesting experiences I’ve had in the last few decades. These terrans are gravely flawed, but I do admire their individuality and optimism, even if it borders on misinformed arrogance at times. Being around a species with passion is refreshing,
thought Ronak.
JACK
“Harrison, hold up man!” But Harrison was gone, leaving dust in his wake as he barreled through the flap concealing the low light of the intelligence tent. Jack and Karl picked up to a moderate run. They entered the tent to find Harrison fumbling through a ring binder containing laminated cards of all the brigade’s radio frequencies, down to the lowest level.
Harrison picked up a handheld radio microphone set that looked like an old plastic telephone. It was one of six hand-mics clipped to a horizontally-tied string of parachute cord, connected to a neat stack of olive-drab ASIPS radios. He switched the top radio to the aid station frequency - 342 - with frequency hop and cypher text settings.
Harrison keyed the hand-mic, his hand shaking from nerves and adrenaline. “Nightingale Base, Nightingale Base, this is Warrior Two Delta.”
Nothing.
Harrison took a deep breath and tried again. “Nightingale Base, Nightingale Base, this is Warrior Two Delta, OVER!” He slammed the hand-mic down on the folding table. “Goddamn it!”
What the hell? Why’s he calling the docs?
Jack wondered. “Harrison, what happened, man?”
“This guy who was guarding a detainee over by the TQ booths got real sick, sir. Like, not the normal shits. This was different. Blood was coming out of all the holes!” Harrison was still breathing very heavily, but was now slowly regaining his composure. “I mean, it was like, not normal. I was giving the medics a heads-up, but they’re not answering. Sergeant Martin told me to.”
Detainee? What detainee?
“Whoa man, slow down. What do you mean detainee? When did we detain someone?” Jack asked. Karl was smiling ear to ear, eager for more stirred shit.
“I don’t know,” said Harrison. “It was this dude with weapons and shit wearing a Yankee hat. At first I thought he was bad, but then Sergeant Martin said he knew him and that it was OK. That’s when they started carrying the dude to the medics.”
I need to look into this. What the hell is he talking about? S3 and Sergeant Major first, then I’ll worry about this nonsense.
“OK man. Do what Master Sergeant Martin told you to do. If you can’t hit the medics on the next try, just go run to the aid station. It’s not that far, you lazy fuck.”
Why is he so amped right now? It’s not like we’re getting shot at. Whatever. PRIORITIES, JACK.
Harrison was visibly annoyed that his boss was indifferent to what he was saying. He again turned his attention to the stack of radios to recheck their settings.
Jack dismissed this little display. He gestured to Karl that they were going to continue their search. “Hey Karl, let’s make our way to the TOC (Tactical Operations Center). It’s like four tents down on the far side of that battery of 105s.”
Karl nodded. “You got it, dude.”
They walked back outside.
The fractal entity over Lower Manhattan was pulsing faster and faster. Spiraling branches spidered out in all directions, then receded back to the center, as if something were trying to break through. It was as if the phenomenon were alive. At first, everyone who looked at it had naturally assumed it was an odd, but reasonable, amount of pollution. The next day, when it had grown exponentially, speculation continued that it might be a freak weather system, something associated with global warming. But now it was anyone’s guess.
Karl and Jack carried a brisk walking pace past the other brigade staff sections’ tents, past the artillery battery oriented to the east, and into the TOC. Jack quickly picked out Lieutenant Colonel Fry and signaled with his hand to get his attention. “Sir!” He tried to keep his voice low enough so as not to arouse any suspicion. The lower enlisted rumor mill had been at a full churn ever since Ronak first made contact, three hours prior.
Fry quickly threaded his way through the noisy, chattering mass of officers and NCOs, some on laptops, others manning the brigade’s radio communications. It was clear there was little or no direction. The senior leadership was having difficulty getting the message down the chain of command that everything was routine, that things would be sorted out soon. This negative atmosphere of crisis increased with each passing second. Soldiers looked nervous. Many had also gotten sick, presumably from nausea caused by fraying nerves.
“OK, Jack. Lay it on me,” Fry said bluntly.
“You want the bad news or the bad news?”
“Hit me with all of it.”
“Aliens are real, everything we’ve ever thought we knew about everything is backwards, and the aforementioned aliens have no idea what the fuck that thing over the city is, but they’re here to help.”
Fry walked away, saying nothing.
“Sir, where are you going?!” Jack was shocked.
Fry turned and glared at Jack and Karl. He canted his head to the side twice in the direction of the entryway, indicating he preferred a less public place to continue the discussion. Karl grabbed someone’s stack of satellite imagery photos of Manhattan on his way out.
The three men walked to the artillery battery and stood in between two of the cannons, as far removed from the fire direction center tent as possible. The drone of the generators allowed them to speak normally, without having to whisper.
Fry began. “Jack, come on man. You’re better than that. Yes, all this information needs to be disseminated, but this is some sensitive stuff. We need to be careful and figure out the best way to lay this on people. Less than a platoon-sized element saw this alien earlier this afternoon, and I swear the whole brigade knows by now. Everyone is freaking the fuck out. We need to get a handle on it as quickly as possible if we even have a prayer of reacting to that fucking thing.” Fry pointed to the fractal, pulsating phenomenon to the east.
“Sir, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Jack’s remorse was sincere; he liked and respected his S3.
“It’s OK, man. Just think about the average private. Last year, the biggest problem they had was stealing enough of their old man’s moonshine to keep from going thirsty while spotlighting deer at night out the back of a Dodge Ram.”
“I get it. You’re absolutely right,” said Jack. “I think maybe I’m on my toes a little too much right now too.”
“So what else you got? Tell me there’s something else.”
“OK, but don’t shoot the messenger.”
Karl was smiling broadly, bathing in the glow of his hot, steaming bowl of stirred shit.
“You have exactly one hour and forty-three minutes to get a plan on the colonel’s desk to air assault into Central Park and rescue a quantum physicist at the American Museum of Natural History in one of the offices adjoining the Hayden Planetarium.”
Ripped off like a band aid.
“Shut the fuck up,” said Fry.
“Sir, I wouldn’t mess with you on this one. I know we normally have upwards of three days to plan something like this, but this is straight from Colonel McColgan and our new …friend.”
“I don’t want to do this in the TOC. Can you carve us some space in your tent where the commanders’ primary staff officers can all crowd around one map? We have forty-five minutes to plan this. Shooting from the hip like fucking idiots again.”
“You got it, sir,” said Jack.
Fry went off to tell the Sergeant Major to corral the commanders and primary staff officers in the S2 tent.
Jack looked at Karl in the combined light of the moon and the increasing phenomenon. “Hey man, grab those three dudes you brought with you and meet me where you found me earlier in twenty minutes.”
All of a sudden
I have a very bad feeling about this,
he thought
.
