Spaceport West (13 page)
Aster had been sitting in a booth in the Cantina for about 45 minutes sipping mock-nettle tea when Freddie slunk in. She waved at him so animatedly that she nearly ended up with half the male patrons coming to sit with her. Finally, he noticed, padded over and slid onto the bench opposite her.
“Hi,” Freddie said with a pathetic half smile.
“Hey there matey!” Aster enthused back, “drink?”
“Yeah, the usual, thanks.” Aster knew what this meant. There was only one drink worth the name in this dive. She bounded up to the bar, returning a couple of minutes later with a large pitcher of the insipid beer substitute and a pair of glasses.
“So… you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Absolutely,” grinned Aster.
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t know, anything, really.”
“Right.”
There was an awkward silence, during which they both sipped their drinks timidly.
“Tell you what, why don’t you start by asking me a question?” tried Freddie, bemused by Aster’s ingenuous lack of smalltalk, despite himself.
“Okay, who’s Katy?”
Freddie nearly choked on his weakly hoppy water and had to spit a mouthful back into the glass.
“I didn’t realise you knew about her.”
Aster was confused. “I’ve heard you talking to her on several occasions.”
“Ah, that time we were both awake on the transport?”
“Yes, and here at the colony, in your dorm.”
“Yes of course.”
“I’ve met her too, don’t you remember?” Aster tilted her head. She looked like a puppy who had just been told something really important by her owner but didn’t have a clue what it was. Because dogs don’t understand English.
Freddie looked back intensely, properly concerned this time.
“What are you talking about Aster? That’s not possible.”
“No, I distinctly remember it.”
Freddie placed a hand on Aster’s. “That’s not possible Aster, because Katy isn’t real.”
“But you just admitted it, you were talking to her, weren’t you?”
“I was. But that doesn’t make her real. She’s just a computer program, on my watch. I created her to keep me company before I left Earth. I needed someone to talk to, so I made a new friend!”
Aster withdrew her hand and wouldn’t look Freddie in the eye.
“You’re lying to me.” There was a slight defect in Aster’s beer glass which she glared at furiously. “Why would you lie to me? I thought you liked me?”
“I do like you Aster, I really like you. I’m not lying. What I just said is completely true. I don’t understand why you think you’ve met her. You must have imagined it.”
For a minute Aster continued to stare intently at her beer, refusing to accept what Freddie was saying. He clearly was lying, and that just seemed rude. Why couldn’t he be a man and just admit he wasn’t interested in her, saving everyone a lot of time.
But then, Aster had a thought. Or, the beginning of a thought, that began somewhere at the back of her head and meandered into view like a bizarre little slapstick character whose appearance you really weren’t expecting.
“Freddie…”
“Yes?”
“Have you tasted the courgettes?”
“What courgettes?”
“The ones I grew as part of my crop experiment.”
“Yeah right, if only!”
Aster was quiet for another minute.
“Freddie…”
“Yes?”
“Was I ever colonist of the week?”
“What’s colonist of the week? Is that one of Bob’s ridiculous new angles?”
“Never mind.”
More silence. Freddie could tell something important was happening, something that was completely out of his control, so he did the only logical thing in the circumstances. He drank some beer.
Gradually, a smile resolved itself on Aster’s face. After a few more minutes, she was able to look Freddie full in the face.
She understood now. It had suddenly struck Aster that there were some dreams that just happen to you and they don’t make a lot of sense. And then there were some things that you dream about because they make all the sense in the world.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Actually, it is really nice. But a minute ago you seemed pretty cross with me.”
“What if I said I’ve decided I love you?”
“I’d probably say, which planet are you on, Aster?”
“A girl can dream, can’t she?”
“I won’t stand in your way.”
That was Aster’s cue. She did the only logical thing in the circumstances.
She kissed him.
“Interesting move.”
“Commander, I have analysed over one hundred million possible ways this game can end, and I can assure you, that move is the only logical choice.”
“Have it your way, Alan. Check.”
“Ah, I wasn’t expecting that. I appear to be in a rather dangerous situation. Give me a second…”
Just then, a speaker crackled into life.
“Moon Base, do you read me? This is Commander Petrov of the
Povorino
.”
“Who’s that, Alan?”
“Hang on a sec, commander, I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of this position you’ve got me into.”
“I repeat, Moon Base, do you read me? We are running low on fuel and must land immediately. We have precious cargo on board - please transmit landing coordinates at once.”
“Alan, sorry to hurry you old chap but that does sound rather urgent, don’t you think?”
“Well why don’t you answer it then? After all, you’re the one who got me into this fix!”
“Fine.”
Commander Wilder moodily put on the radio headset.
“Commander Petrov, we read you. Unfortunately, now is not a good time for us. Please make alternative arrangements.”
“Moon Base, that is not an option, I repeat, not an option. We are in an extremely dangerous situation. Офицер Азимов, что наш статус?”
“Idiot’s speaking to us in Russian now.”
“Commander, we have only enough fuel for one touchdown attempt. We are coming into land immediately, I repeat, immediately. Please track and send rescue party! Азимов, мы собираемся к краху! Пусть Бог помилует нас…”
Suddenly the radio emitted some loud static, and then went dead.
“Ah, I’ve got it. Check mate!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, that’s not possible! You utter, utter scoundrel.”
Alan oozed smug gratification. After a minute, a puzzled expression came over his face.
“Commander, what was that communication all about just now? I wasn’t listening.”
“Oh I don’t know Alan, someone got their wires crossed I think. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
🚀
The
Povorino
had came down several kilometres out from the base and was venting air through its fractured hull. Inside, multiple klaxons were sounding, along with loud computerised voices issuing urgent instructions in Russian.
“Commander, are you okay?”
“I… I don’t think I can move my legs. Please, check on our passenger, you must save him. I do not matter.”
“I will check if he is okay, commander, but then I am coming back for you, alright? I will not abandon you!”
“You are a fine officer, Asimov. But I think this is to be my last mission. You must do the honourable thing by our allies.”
Officer Asimov took one last agonising look at his fallen comrade as the light faded from his eyes. Closing Petrov’s eyes, he wiped a tear away from his own, then tore himself away to check on the passenger. Petrov was right, the honour of Russia depended now on the actions of this young officer.
Asimov found his passenger unconscious and bleeding from a head wound. Glancing at a dial on the wall, he realised the air pressure was dropping fast. He would also lose consciousness unless he put on his helmet. Having done so, with some difficulty he managed to get one on his inert companion. Glancing around the
Povorino
one last time, he punched the emergency door release, which caused the door to violently disengage from the ship, along with an explosive rush as the final remnant of precious air disappeared into space.
Clambering out of the mutilated ship, dragging his useless sidekick along behind him, Asimov realised he had injured his leg and it was hurting badly. He could feel the combination of adrenaline and oxygen deprivation clouding his thoughts.
Clear of the
Povorino
, he tried to get his bearings. He spotted what he thought was the outline of the Moon Base on the horizon and laboriously headed for it. Unbeknownst to him, what he was actually aiming for was a robotic bulldozer, ceaselessly harvesting regolith. Asimov and his human cargo would never reach safety.
Vostochny Cosmodrome Medical Facility
“Standby for final cortex upload… computer, initiate upload.”
“Uploading….” replied the computer. After about two minutes it continued, “upload complete, doctor.”
“Please run quantum diagnostics.”
“Quantum cortex is online and running at maximum throughput,” replied the computer.
“Nurse, please reduce the isoflurane to 100 parts per million.”
“Affirmative, doctor.”
“He’s coming round. Please remove the bindings.”
“Yes of course.”
“Fifty parts per million, please nurse. Heart rate stabilising. Scan for signs of muscle apoptosis.”
“That’s a negative doctor, muscle activity normal.”
“Reduce to zero parts per million.”
“He’s going to open his eyes in a few seconds.”
“Quiet please, don’t crowd him. Commander Toropov, you should be the first person he sees. The rest of us will wait outside.”
The medical team removed the gas mask and disconnected some sensors from their patient, confident he was coming round normally, and left the room.
Commander Toropov quietly walked up to the bed until he was standing directly beside his friend.
He bent down and whispered gently, “Greetings, Comrade Hampton.”
Back at
Spaceport West
, Tiggy was conflicted. She believed every word that Alan had told her, incredible though it seemed, but who would believe her if she told anyone? Obviously, she should tell Susan. Susan trusted her and Tiggy counted her a close friend, an ally.
There really wasn’t any point putting it off, she would confront Susan straight away. Susan would then have to decide what to do with this information. Tiggy didn’t envy her that.
She wrote a brief message and sent it to Susan.
“Susan, we must meet, in private. I have something I’ve got to tell you face to face. Life and death type stuff.”
Susan replied within seconds, “Okay, come to my office in five minutes.”
Tiggy looked at the reply and then realised she didn’t want to meet Susan at her office. What if the government had wired it? And then there was the young assistant, perhaps he would be eavesdropping under instruction from Ralph.
“Sorry, Susan, can we meet at CostaBucks? I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
A few minutes later they rendezvoused at the coffee shop and found a booth in the corner where they would not be overheard.
“What’s all this about Tiggy, are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Although… a little disturbed by something Alan told me.”
“Alan? Is it about Commander Wilder?”
“Well, sort of. It’s more to do with the Prime Minister.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. Subconsciously she had been preparing for this moment. She didn’t expect it to come from Alan, but she had been hoping for a breakthrough in her understanding of Ralph.
“I hadn’t considered Alan to be a source of political intrigue! Is he an undercover hack?” said Susan with a cheeky smile, not able to completely disguise her nervousness.
“I think it’s because Alan and Ralph have been through a surprisingly similar experience.”
“That sounds unlikely, but I’m all ears.”
“I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” said Tiggy as the enormity of the revelation began to overwhelm her.
“Spill the beans, Beauchamp!”
“Well, you know those Russian roboticists who created the version of Alan we met last week?”
“Yes.”
“They came from Vostochny, didn’t they?”
“They did. It’s one of the largest research establishments in the world. What of it?”
“Do you know what happens, as a matter of course, prior to all launches from that base?”
“Herrings for breakfast I imagine. Cut to the chase Tiggy!”
“They perform a very detailed scan of your brain. And I mean, down to the last neuron, synapse, dendrite and axon. They then archive all that information… as a contingency.”
Susan’s eyes were widening involuntarily. She was hoping and praying that Tiggy wasn’t about to say what she thought she was.
“Surely you’re not suggesting…?”
“I’m afraid I am Susan. The man you once knew as Ralph Hampton, isn’t alive anymore.”
QUANTUM CORTEX
The
Quantum Cortex
is the single most complex engineering feat known to man. By harnessing almost limitless processing power, it has been possible to accurately simulate the human brain in a computer chip the size of a postage stamp.
This has lead many cognitive specialists to speculate that there must be a huge amount of untapped potential still to be discovered in the actual human brain, since, in most cases, the real thing is considerably larger than a postage stamp.
Other, more politically correct, scientists have pointed out that in fact, brain size is irrelevant for determining intelligence. After all, the average female brain is 10% smaller than the corresponding male brain, and yet no-one, at least no-one with a government sponsored research fellowship, is suggesting women are less intelligent than men.
In all honesty, however, your average android is unlikely to come away with any prizes from the Brainiest Sentient Being Awards. Even the most sophisticated models are frequently baffled by simple human behaviours that children seem able to acquire from an early age. Such problematic behaviours are generally associated with the slippery concept of
common sense
.
Naturally, this state of affairs has lead to a growing feeling of inferiority and low self-esteem amongst the artificial automata community, a key response to which has been the creation of the self-help organisation
Androids Anonymous
, where robotic individuals can meet in a safe and friendly environment away from the derisive ridicule of their human overlords.
It can only be assumed the purpose of these meetings is to discuss particularly android issues and encourage one another in their attempts to become more lifelike, but, due to the secretive and exclusive nature of the organisation, it is difficult to know for sure.
Some undercover journalists, cunningly disguised as outdated robots, have, on occasion, managed to infiltrate these gatherings. Normally spotted and ejected within minutes, they all, without fail, report seeing androids sitting around on sofas watching daytime TV.
UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition
