The Next Continent (18 page)

Sando called up an artist's rendering of the base under construction. The base modules looked like extended Quonset huts linked together in a lattice formation. An inset showed the completed layout, which resembled a circuit diagram. Tae seemed slightly startled.

“The key to Phase Two will be constant feedback between Earth and the construction site,” Sando continued. “Nothing on this scale has ever been attempted in vacuum conditions. Anything can happen. If a problem occurs, data must be relayed to Earth immediately, and the robotic engineering equipment must be capable of responding precisely. Operational and safety protocols will be established during this phase. With everything that needs to be done, the phase beginning six years out and continuing for two years after that will be the most difficult.” The bar extending to 2033 ended, and below it, a new bar appeared.

“Phase Three starts when the concrete habitat facilities are complete. At this point, all engineering equipment will be on-site and operations will be standardized. There will be fewer vehicles arriving from Earth with equipment, and on-site operations will be the main focus. We'll continue expanding the habitats and the number of personnel while enlarging areas of the base for other uses and fitting out the interior of the structures. Around this time we'll also start receiving ELE staff as well as additional personnel from Gotoba. And others as well—”

Sando suddenly broke off his narrative. After a short pause, he began again.

“Phase Three extends to 2035. This marks the completion of the work Gotoba has been commissioned to execute. In ten years the base will be complete.”

Sando's listeners murmured their approval. Sohya realized his clenched fists were trembling. The presentation had brought a sense of reality to the project that left him shaking with excitement.

Sando continued matter-of-factly, “Our equipment and materials projections are nearly complete. Assuming everything goes as planned, 189 tons of engineering equipment, construction material, fuel, provisions, water, and personnel must be sent to the moon. Say two hundred tons with contingent requirements. This is the total we propose to send.”

“So that's where the two hundred tons came from,” said Reika.

“Yes.” Sando nodded gravely. “To deliver that to the surface, we'll have to put additional payload in orbit around the moon. Spacecraft will be needed to rotate personnel back to Earth. After adding in this additional payload, as well as the cost to develop and build the necessary engineering equipment, the total costs amount to 1.2 trillion yen.” Sando looked at Reika questioningly. “But I understand ELE has discovered a magic method to reduce the launch costs by 95 percent.”

“Yes, I saw it myself.” Reika leaned forward as if impatient to present her views. “We have a solution. We discovered that Tenryu Galaxy Transport is working on a revolutionary new type of rocket. If it succeeds, we'll be able to send everything with just a few launches!”

“Not likely,” said Sohya dismissively. “It wouldn't be practical to divide all the cargo needed for a ten-year project into just a few payloads. And the impact if we lost a rocket would be too significant. The launch vehicles will probably be smaller, which will make them cheaper. We'll launch twenty or thirty of them.”

“Oh…Yes, I suppose you're right.”

Sando was observing Sohya and Reika's exchange with deep interest. He smiled and nodded. “In any event, TROPHY will definitely improve our prospects. Good. This will make all of our hard work worth it.”

Sando motioned to the rest of the large room. Everything was in complete disarray. In a mere two months, Sando's engineers had completed the design for an unprecedented construction project. Judging from the state of the design lab, it looked as if the task had consumed the mental and physical energy of the entire Technology Development Division. The room was awash in documents, maps, and printouts. Several of the younger staff were in the back of the room and under desks, immobile in sleeping bags.

Suddenly Iwaki, who had been silent till now, raised a hand. “Sando, I've got one concern. You said there'd be other people coming to the base. Do you know who they are?”

Sando furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “Guests, I suppose. In fact, ELE's specifications include the construction of several meeting halls, restaurants, and an unusual glassed-in room. Clearly the base is intended for VIPs of some sort.” Sando noticed Reika staring at him and paused to cleared his throat. “Of course, we don't need to know everything. Still, the fact that we haven't been briefed on the intended use of such an extensive facility does make our job somewhat more challenging.”

“Mr. Sando?” It was Tae. He looked at her, tolerating the interruption. Iwaki and Sohya leaned forward expectantly—but she changed the topic.

“When you decide where the base is going to be, I have a request.”

“A request?”

“I want it to have a nice view.”

“A nice view?” Sando, Iwaki, and Sohya looked at each other.

“So you do plan to bring tourists to the base?” asked Sohya.

“Tourists…Yes, tourism will probably be one of the uses,” said Tae. Then she smiled. “Mr. Sando, I basically understand how you are going to build the buildings. But there's something you haven't talked about yet.” It was unbelievable that such a young girl could have grasped Sando's complex presentation, but what she said next was even more surprising.

“Is Gotoba going to handle all the embellishments?”

“The embellishments?” Sando looked blank.

“Yes, like beautiful towers, bay windows, little paths with pretty arches, and fountains surrounded by flower beds. Of course, the walls will be white, but it'll be boring if everything is white, so let's use colors like green and pink for decoration. You can use templates for frescos, but will it be hard to make statues?”

“Listen, Tae,” Sohya broke in, astonished. “What kind of a base is this going to be?”

“I told you, didn't I? A place ordinary people can enjoy.” Tae stood and motioned to Reika. “Let's go, Reika. I have to report back to Grandfather.”

“Ah, okay.” Reika turned to the others. “Well, goodbye.” The bewildered men watched her back as she left.

TWO DAYS LATER
, a list of additional requirements arrived from Eden Leisure Entertainment that seemed to have little to do with a lunar base.

The document began with a list of stringent standards for the base's interior environment: temperature, humidity, ambient noise, vibration, odors, illumination, and more. These parameters were not to be maintained at some minimum level but within the optimum range for comfort. The minimum residential volume per occupant was fifty cubic meters—nearly three times the minimum considered necessary for a space facility—including ten cubic meters of private space. Living quarters for visitors had to be strictly separated from those for base staff. Meal service was to offer a choice of five cuisines: Japanese, French, Chinese, Italian, and pan-Asian fusion, with chefs and staff to oversee each menu. All equipment, piping, ducts, cables, and other infrastructure would be hidden inside the walls. Colors and furnishings were to be commensurate with commercial standards on Earth, and occupant safety had to be fully ensured by means of at least three different safety systems: an escape vehicle, space suits, and an emergency escape tunnel. These systems had to be concealed so as not to clash with the furnishings. Operating personnel were to be provided with a comfortable working environment to enable them to provide the highest levels of service to base visitors. Et cetera. Et cetera.

In all there were more than 150 of these stipulations. In effect, Gotoba was being ordered to build a first-class hotel on the moon. The engineer responsible for designing the habitat interiors, where most of the impact would fall, went into shock and sent up a distress rocket to his superiors.

“How the hell am I supposed to meet these requirements? You can't lay paint inside a space station. What about the fumes while it's curing? Resin-based wallpaper? Wood fittings? How do we handle off-gassing and flammability? I can't work with this!”

The complaints went all the way up the chain to the president, but he brushed them off and told his people to stop complaining. The engineer racked his brains and came up with the idea of polishing the interior walls, finishing them with a special compound that would reflect visible light the same way as a butterfly's wing or a peacock's tail, to create the effect of color without pigments.

Some of the requirements could be solved through similar kinds of innovation, but others would mean sending extra equipment and material. This would add directly to costs. And the 360 square-meter ball court—one each for guests and staff, “if possible”—would mean further expansion of the habitat area. Even Gotoba himself found this hard to swallow and was forced to summon Sohya to his office.

“Have you seen these new requirements? ELE wants a volleyball court
for the staff
. We'd have to add the equivalent of two new habitat modules. It would push the time required for Phase Two another 10 percent. Do you have any idea why they're doing this to us?”

“Maybe they're planning to send really athletic people,” ventured Sohya.

“Very funny. These guys seem to think the moon is just another Polynesian island. They don't realize that it costs a million yen to send a volleyball. I want you to go to Nagoya, Sohya. Bow low. Try to get them to cut some of this out.”

“Don't worry about the ball court. All we need to do is come up with a new ball game that doesn't take much space to play.”

“Brilliant! I like it.”

“Still, the specifications have gotten a lot tougher for some reason. I'd better find out why,” said Sohya as he left the office. The one thing he'd neglected to mention was the author of the new requirements.

It had to be Tae; there was no doubt about it. That “report” she'd been working on during their moon trip had gone to ELE. That was probably the reason she'd been sent—to determine how the moon could be transformed from a place where humans struggled to survive to one that anyone could casually visit.

But even so, things didn't add up. The current plan assumed that the fare for one person to travel to the moon would be at least a hundred million yen, even with the new technology. If they received an average of four visitors a month—nearly a thousand people over the base's twenty-year operating life—they would still not even break even on the 150 million yen construction cost.

Did a base on the moon—with its sand and ice, black skies, and weak gravity—really have that kind of drawing power? It might for a short time, while the concept still had some novelty. But could it keep attracting people year after year? People willing to pay a fortune for a stay of just a few days?

And if not, what was the purpose?

To find out, Sohya traveled to Aichi Prefecture and the headquarters of Eden Leisure Entertainment.

[4]

SOHYA RANG OFF
his wearcom from his seat in the Nagoyabound maglev express. Gotoba's liaison at ELE headquarters in downtown Nagoya was expecting his call. Instead of a meeting at headquarters with ELE staff, Sohya was told to proceed to Tokai Eden, where Tae would be waiting for him.

He transferred to the train for Leisure Land at Nagoya. Japan's third-largest amusement park was spread across seventy-five acres of reclaimed land where the Kiso River flowed into Ise Bay. The early autumn school-excursion season had arrived, and the train was overflowing with students of all ages.

Naturally there were no ticket vending machines at the entrance to the park. Just as in the train station, an overhead imaging system tracked people entering the park using face recognition. A few days later, a bill would arrive from the visitor's credit card company or financial institution. When the system was first introduced, some feared it would miss the faces of rapidly growing children, but that particular problem was solved by simple common sense. Preschool children would not be visiting the park on their own. All the system had to do was identify the parents' faces. For children visiting in groups, the system could simply identify the face of the teacher accompanying them.

Tokai Eden's monitoring system enhanced its accuracy by linking to visitor wearcoms with electronic toll collection signals, a system first commercialized around 2000 to automate toll collection for highways. Sohya realized this when he passed through the entrance and his wearcom emitted a short beep.

The wearable computer was a universal terminal crammed with nearly every conceivable electronic function that could be made portable. No adult was without one. It united the functions of a personal computer and mobile phone in a device that could be worn as an accessory—as a wristwatch, bracelet, or necklace, or embedded in a hair ornament or eyeglasses. One of its main functions was to link to mobile networks in the gigahertz band, which allowed user locations to be pinpointed with great accuracy.