Posts Tagged ‘science fiction’

Science Fantasy

mpayne

an essay by Matthew Payne

I’ve always been in love with science. I read science magazines when I was a kid and I am always thrilled by new discoveries or new technologies. But I only started reading science-fiction a couple years ago, because most popular science fiction has very little to do with real science or scientific ideas. Don’t get me wrong, I love Star Trek and Star Wars, but there’s very little in the way of real science there. I love them because they’re good stories with compelling characters, not because the science is stimulating. So they didn’t compel me to seek out more “science fiction.”

When I finally did start reading science fiction, I saw that the best stuff was not made of what we understand the genre to be. We tend to think of science-fiction as a story set in the future, but real sci-fi fans know better. I want to do something now to clarify the differences and maybe open up some new ground for curious book-lovers. I want to show you the mind-bending glories of a plot based on a scientific idea; the curiosity and paranoia of speculative fiction which can bring current issues and age-old questions into the light of a different context; and also the dizzying aesthetic panoramas of a regular good story set in the future. But mostly, I want to show curious readers that there is so much more to science fiction than just spaceships and lasers.

So I will try to show some examples from some sub-genres of sci-fi. These aren’t my categories: they already exist, and I’ve heard different ideas about what constitutes each pseudo-sub-genre. I’ll describe them as I see them, with examples that will often amount to a miniature book-review. There are spoilers in here, and I might ruin some good books for you, so be careful.

jurassic

I’ll start with my favorite, and the most rare style of sci-fi: the plot based on a scientific idea. This is the playground where most hard science-fiction plays. It can be a simple enough idea, like in Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park where they clone dinosaurs and the dinosaurs eat people. We’re all familiar enough with the movie, which did a good job at portraying the book (probably because Crichton wrote the screenplay). The plot is based on the idea that genes (DNA) naturally create life, and thus we can manipulate them into creating life. Scientists in the story found old dinosaur genes and created a favorable environment for them to grow living dinosaurs. The action of the story involved people trying to avoid getting eaten by the giant monsters, but without the science aspect there would have been no dinosaurs and no action. Jurassic Park has a plot based on a scientific idea, and for me that means that it is just as sci-fi as Star Trek.

But Jurassic Park is not what I’d call “hard” science fiction, because the science-part pretty much ends once the dinosaurs are alive. All you need to do is accept that cloning might be possible in this fictional world, and proceed to be afraid of dinosaurs. I admit that the book is much closer to being hard science-fiction than the movie, with occasional discussions about ideas and deeper descriptions about the mecahnics of genetic science, but when I compare it to the work of Greg Egan, I can’t justify calling Jurassic Park “hard sci-fi.”

Greg Egan is the man who showed me the brightest possibilities in true science-fiction. He is one of my favorite writers, and I’m always shocked (genuinely shocked) by the new places his sci-fi can take me. I’ve only read three of his books, but they are three of my favourite books. The basic plots of his books are based on complex scientific ideas, the action itself is a constant interplay of theoretical physics and software-fiction, and his characters themselves are often based on scientific ideas. It all seems very abstract when I describe it like that, but the characters are very compelling and the conflicts, while strange, dig right into your heart. The evocative stories carry on at a fast pace, the biggest page-turners I have ever read. He is a master storyteller.

To summarize the plot of his 2003 novel, Schild’s Ladder, in one sentence, I could say that “a new type of physics is eating up the universe, expanding at half the speed of light, and futuristic scientists are trying to find out how the human race can survive it.”

The novel is set twenty-thousand years in the future, when science has discovered much more about physics. According to the science of Egan’s fictional world, the vacuum of space and the particles within it are just one type of possible vacuum that can exist in the so-called “universe.” But one scientist has created an experimental new kind of physics, a new kind of vacuum, which is stronger than the current one which gave rise to stars, planets, and life. This new vacuum, called the “novo-vacuum” starts expanding as a huge ball, moving at half the speed of light, eating everything in its way (including space itself).

schild's ladder

That’s a pretty cool plot by itself, but Egan adds crazier elements to the story. People are no longer flesh-humans, nor are they part-robot or anything like that. They can choose to take flesh-forms, they can choose to inhabit robots, they can live as independent software floating around with no computer (“incorporeals”), and they can transmit themselves across the galaxy at the speed of light. This creates interesting conflicts between characters, and a new context for the strange new-physics problem facing all the “people” of the galaxy. A lot of the conflict is based around characters arguing whether to try to stop the new physics, or try to study it and adapt to it. Egan gets philosophical about this point. It might seem silly to get philosophical about a problem that’s probably impossible, but it is also a metaphor about being brave and pursuing new things.

As you can imagine, the action of the story requires methodical descriptions of the behaviour of particles and software. This makes for reading that is simultaneously very dry and imaginative, while the concerns and welfare of the characters keep the reader extra-interested. It is very well done. I won’t tell you how it ends.

If that seems too far-out for you, then I won’t even begin to describe the multi-dimensional meanderings of the software-people in Egan’s Diaspora, or how the regular human main-character in Quarantine has to navigate through devastatingly limitless possible quantum outcomes to every situation in an attempt to save humanity from insanity.

And that brings me to Star Wars, where Jedi-magic is just as important to the plot as any kind of technology, and scientific ideas are simply absent.

I was once at a comic-book convention and I asked a comic-book vendor if he knew of any good science-fiction comics, because I’ve been looking for a good one for a while. He said, “I have lots of Star Wars comics.”

I said, “Star Wars is more fantasy than science fiction. What else do you have?”

He frowned at me, then he looked at my friend and said, “He’s lucky there’s a table between us right now.” After that he refused to talk to me.

Star Wars belongs in fantasy just as much as it belongs in sci-fi, because the Jedi knights are wizard-warriors. There is no offer of a scientific explanation for their abilities to move objects with their minds, or any of the amazing and impossible fighting moves they do. It’s magic. They are wizards. I had a friend say, “No, it’s not magic. It’s just mind-over-matter! It’s like Buddhism.” Well, I’m sorry but if there was a story about Buddhists using telekinesis, then that story would be fantasy, because telekinesis is magic, and it’s not real.

I had someone tell me that “cyber-punk” was a sub-genre of science fiction where there is lots of technology, but the stories are usually gritty and tough. Star Wars can fall into that category, because it’s a fairly gritty epic-adventure with spaceships and laser-swords.

I have certainly relented from my previous stance that Star Wars is not science-fiction, but when I think about Greg Egan or Michael Crichton, men who have their heads right inside a science text-book, I just can’t put Star Wars in the same category. Instead it is the perfect blend of sci-fi elements with fantasy, for a truly imaginative adventure story.

Keep in mind that this is merely an organizational matter, a matter of categorization. This has nothing to do with the quality of the work. I’m a big fan of the first three Star Wars movies, and I believe that the world needs more laser-sword battles. But it stimulates a different part of my mind than the stories that I consider scientifically imaginative.

Then there is Christopher Priest. I’ve read several of his books, and they are always mind-bending soul-wrenchers. Priest is great because he intentionally messes around with the reader, using the perspective of the characters to submerse you into his surreal yet very tangible worlds.

The whole plot and world of Priest’s surreal sci-fi classic, The Inverted World, are basically a philosophical statement with a scientific explanation. The characters all live in a city which is moving on tracks. They have to work together to pick up the tracks behind the city and lay them down in front of the city every day. At first, you don’t know why they’re doing this. The main character is just a kid at first, and he doesn’t understand the city, and the reader only knows what the character knows.

invertedworld

The city-dwellers have a name for the areas they already passed through. They call it “the past.” The area ahead of them, where they plan to lay new tracks, is called “the future.” It seems like a stupid and pointless activity at first, desperately picking up and laying down tracks, but then the main character travels into “the past” by simply walking back to where the city has already been, and he finds that all the old mountains and trees have gotten smaller and smaller. The further back he goes, the smaller the trees and mountains get, and gravity eventually threatens to pull him vertically into the infinite and flat “past.” When he travels into “the future,” walking ahead of the slowly-moving city, he finds that everything gets bigger and bigger until he can’t even step over pebbles, and gravity won’t let him walk any further forward. To make it worse, the future and the past are always moving forwards. If the city stops moving, it will shrink into “the past,” and gravity will pull it off the flat landscape and supposedly into oblivion.

Beautifully strange as it is, the city-dwellers have a scientific explanation for this gorgeous and terrifying world they live in. They say that instead of living on a finite planet in an infinite universe (like our finite Earth in our infinite universe), these people live on an infinite planet within a finite universe. They think that their planet is a rotating parabola, but only part of it is ever within the finite universe, and the city has to keep moving to stay within the universe, and to keep existing.

As a metaphor, he is referring to our perspective of the future looming huge above us, and our dwindling memories of our disappearing past. Also, our seemingly innate instinct to keep moving, almost desparately towards the future, terrified of what would happen if we stopped.

As science-fiction, the idea of an infinite planet moving through a finite universe is really cool and interesting. Christopher Priest is often a dark and paranoid writer, but the action is equally colorful and imaginative.

So I’ve spoiled a lot of the fun surprise of The Inverted World for anyone who might read it (and the surprise of discovery is the biggest part of the fun of reading Christopher Priest), but you can still read The Affirmation if you want to get mind-fucked, or Darkening Island if you want to get depressed and scared. They are less sci-fi, but awesome stories. Indoctrinaire is another great book by Priest, and it is probably the most surreal of all his books that I’ve read.

Actually, you are probably familiar with his work already. His book, The Prestige, was made into a movie of the same name. It had a lot of the same lineup as Dark Knight, including Christian Bale and Michael Caine in the cast, and the amazing Nolan brothers writing and directing it.

Now for Star Trek.

Star Trek beats Star Wars for sci-fi categorization because there is no magic. They at least pretend that things like replicators and transporters are genuine inventions of technology, plausible within our own regular physics. For me Star Trek in all its forms is in the same genre as Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. It’s social-science-fiction, using a futuristic setting to demonstrate ideas about humanity, rather than scientific ideas.

Asimov’s Foundation stories were mainly political stories, showing the development of humanity as empires ebbed and flowed throughout the galaxy. Star Trek used an episodic style to show the noble Star Fleet officers giving help and wisdom to other life-forms. The humans in Star Trek have overcome war and financial inequality through the use of technology to make everyone comfortable and relatively safe. Some episodes have sci-fi plots, like in The Next Generation, when Star Fleet wants to dissemble the android Data. He has no actual feelings or legal rights, but the crew of The Enterprise have grown fond of him and they want to keep him, and so there is a court battle about why humans deserve rights and robots don’t. I don’t think this idea is really socially relevant yet, but it might be some day. Also, science considers humans to be merely biological robots, so the legal rights of androids is a silly question that actually sheds light onto the question of what it means to be human.

For the most part, the science of Star Trek isn’t very scientific. The aliens they meet always seem to look like humans with makeup on their faces, and the scientific understanding of natural selection seems to suggest that it’s really unlikely that there would be aliens so very similar to us. In fact, there is sometimes breeding between different species (like Worf’s half-human, half-klingon son Alexander), which must suggest that other aliens use the same kind of DNA as humans, with the same six molecules, and that they have a genome so close to our own that we can breed with them.

star-trek

That being said, I love Star Trek: The Next Generation more than Star Wars or any other sci-fi, maybe even including Egan and Priest. It’s true that it’s a corny television show, but I love it because the characters are noble and curious, the episodes have a lot of (often naïve) social wisdom, and the Enterprise just seems like an awesome place to live. Of course, Captain Picard is the most noble of them all, jolly and witty in good times; deadly serious, sharp and disciplined in the tough times.

So Star Trek is a great show, but not hard science-fiction. It is a story set in the future, and the characters could just as well be on a ship exploring the ocean in the past, and not much would be lost for the viewer. The sci-fi element is mostly an aesthetic choice. Plus, it allows us to hope for this as a possible version of “the future.”

I wanted to discuss the films The Matrix, Gattaca, and especially Terminator II: Judgement Day, but I think I’ve vaguely categorized enough for now. I’ll leave them floating among the sci-fi mists.

This short multi-review does not describe the whole massive genre of science fiction; it doesn’t even come close. But I hope that I’ve expanded your image of the genre beyond the typical low-quality space-opera conception/prejudice.

As a final note, sci-fi often refers to “alternate dimensions,” and the authors treat it like moving to a different universe similar to our own but different. They mistake the idea of dimensions. We live in three-dimensional space, and the real theoretical idea is that the fourth dimension is time. Greg Egan plays with this idea in Diaspora, but you can get a really cool description of the actual (theoretical) idea on Youtube. Check out the video embedded below. It’s part one of two. The second part should be available at the end.

Robo Planet Game part 5


mpayne

by Matthew Payne

Read part 4

They traded sword-blows, blocking and slicing and stabbing. Ruxto made contact, slicing into the tin of the robot’s chest. Then he pulled his sword out with a wrenching sound and started shooting it in the head with his laser. The robot’s head melted and smoked and it stumbled backwards against the black metal of the fan-building, clanking metal on metal as it slumped to the ground. It was so easy that Ruxto wished there were three more.

There was a door in the wall, and Ruxto went to it. There was a handle, and he pulled it open.

On the inside the fan-building was a factory, even though the air tasted extra-fresh and pleasantly cool. Grinding noises were overpowered by an ear-numbing humming-sound. There was also a regular smashing sound, like rocks getting crushed with a giant hammer. Ruxto stood on a red-clay floor and looked up at the black machinery. Giant gears turned slowly, some connected by the ruts in the gears, others by the axles running between them. There were conveyor belts carrying rocks and dirt across the giant room. Far back and up above, Ruxto saw a giant funnel which was dropping rocks onto one conveyor belt into a machine that seemed to be smashing them up into dirt. Even higher, in the center of the room, there was the machine the crushed-dirt was fed into. This machine had a huge compartment, and steam billowed out through a hole in the top. That steam quickly turned small turbines, which were connected to gears that slowly turned the giant fan. The only light was from between those blades, so shadows and visibility were in constant shift, making the factory look more alive than it really was. The fan-blades were half as long as football fields.

Ruxto could see the giant fan all the way up at the top and front of the building. The arms of the fan turned slowly, and giant slots of dying daylight turned around between them.

“It’s converting rocks into air,” Ruxto mumbled.

Because of the density, he assumed it would only take a little bit of rocks to make a lot of air, but it would take a gigantic amount of air to fill a planet.

Where was it getting the rocks? And where was the water he’d been promised? He started wandering around the automated factory, keeping his eyes open for more danger. In the sketchy-moving light and the overpowering noise, it would be easy for someone or something to sneak up on Ruxto and make him restart his mission again.

He wandered between mechanisms that moved, but which he didn’t understand. He didn’t touch anything.

Near the back of the building Ruxto learned how the factory got its rocks and dirt.

There was a small door in the back and Ruxto saw a little yellow robot drive drive in from the desert. It was a simple robot, just a platform on four black wheels with a small bucket on top. The bucket was on hinges and was full of dirt and pebbles and sand. It drove into the building and went over to a hole in the floor (the hole was lined with a metal frame), then it turned its bucket on its hinges and dropped the dirt-load into the hole. Less than a meter away, the dirt emerged from beneath the ground in another bucket which was attached to a conveyor belt. The new bucket dropped the dirt onto another conveyor belt, and the load was on its way to getting converted into air.

The robot drove away but already there was another one coming in with more dirt.

Ruxto spoke to himself. “This is genius. Little worker-robots bringing materials to the factory. But how do they load themselves up with new dirt? They don’t have hands or a shovel.”

Then he realized that there must be another type of robot outside somewhere which filled up these little robots. It was a functioning robot-society, and it wasn’t even built by humans. Thousands of years ago humans built the seed-robots to terraform other planets, but the humans also programmed the seeds to experiment with their own new children-seed-prototypes. This factory was part of a functioning robot-society, working apparently without consciousness in a slightly misguided attempt to benefit the human race. He was amazed. The robots had learned to convert things to their basic atomic structures and then rebuild them into whatever material they wanted (air, water, human flesh). They had learned to make new types of robots which could work independently or as part of a team. They had built a planet-sized game which seemed to be relatively safe against objective dangers… though it was a huge inconvenience and it had unwittingly murdered Ruxto’s ship-mates.

More little robots came in until finally Ruxto grabbed one on its way out. The wheels kept spinning in the air for a while, then they stopped. They must have registered a lack of friction. More amazing programming. Ruxto had always enoyed beautiful creations and the genius of subtleties, but when he came to this universe and discovered computers and technology his mind had stretched in its definitions of creation and building.

There was a blue light at the front of the robot, and Ruxto stared into it. Was this light the robot’s eye? As he looked right into it, he felt awe and wonder, and a silly feeling of companionship and almost affection.

On the back of the robot there was a switch. There were six options for the switch to be turned to: Mining Site One; Mining Site Two; Mining Site Three; Bio-Dome/Animals; Bio-Dome/Shuttle; Mysterious Destination. These must be where the robot was programmed to go, so whichever option was selected was where the robot would go… and Ruxto could follow.

Ruxto set his eyes intently on the one that said, “Bio-Dome/Shuttle.” Would this lead him to escape? Clearly this was part of the game. This must be Unit Twelve’s intended path for a player to win the game. Ruxto switched the toggle over to ¨Bio-Dome/Shuttle,¨ then went to find the water he’d been promised.

He found the water dripping in individual drops from the giant center-machine, where steam billowed from the top to turn the turbines. As steam plumed from the top, condensation dripped down the sides. The ground underneath was wet, but only mildly. This was a naturally dry planet, and water evaporated quickly. He had to sit there for almost an hour, patiently letting drops fall slowly into his empty flask. He sat and meditated, resting while holding the bottle until it was full. In his other hand he still held the robot. And he wondered about the robot´s other toggles… the one that said, ¨Bio-Dome/Animals,¨ and the one that said, ¨Mysterious Destination.¨ Ruxto assumed that ¨Mysterious Destination¨ was some kind of trick to fool unfocused players, since the curiosity was almost too strong for him to resist. But he was even more intrigued by the ¨Bio-Dome/Animals¨ option. Where would that take him? Did Unit Twelve create animals? Ruxto longed to explore the rest of this planet, but that would be foolish in his current situation. He was not in control of his surroundings right now. He was trapped in a game, and he couldn’t afford to see what mysteries these advanced automated robots had created. He had to get off this planet, get a ship that he could control, and get a good supply of weapons and food. Then he would be safe and strong enough to explore interplanetary mysteries. Right now he was nearly powerless.

Crouching low, he followed the robot out of its hatch and into the yellow desert under the dark sky. There were several little robots moving around in the area behind the fan-building. Some were coming into the building, and Ruxto could see many more at varying intervals coming from the desert towards the fan, bringing their dirt-loads. There were also several empty ones driving away, apparently going to the three mines to get more dirt.

Ruxto’s robot took him in a different direction, following its new altered path. It drove much slower than Ruxto’s comfortable walking space, and this tested his patience. As an experiment, he picked it up and jogged for a little while, going in the same direction it had been moving. Then he set it down again and followed for a while. Moving like this, they kept going until the sunlight was all gone and the black fan was a quiet speck in the background, barely visible in the new darkness.

The air got cooler, and Ruxto considered resting for the night. Then he saw a row of steel blades emerge smoothly and silently from the desert a few hundred feet ahead. Sticking up like towers, they started moving towards Ruxto through the dirt, and moving fast.

He pulled out his laser first and shot some of the blades away, then took out his sword. When the wall of blades was close, he sliced through them with his own blade, placing his feet so the blade-stumps went safely between them. He cut them away cleanly, but sent one spinning so that it sliced through his right shoulder. The slice caused no pain right away, but the arm was mostly cut off and it dangled uselessly as blood gushed out. The blades disappeared back into the dirt behind him.

Ruxto fell to his knees, feeling no worry but working to stop the blood from gushing out. The bone was severed and most of the muscle. His arm was useless. He quickly undid some metal straps and took off his left sleeve, then bundled up the cloth and stuck it in his wound, between the arm and the shoulder. Then he took off his right pant-leg and tore it into a long strip. Using his teeth and his left hand, he tied the strip around both shoulders to hold his limp arm in place. At this point, he would almost rather die and be re-cloned than continue without his right arm.

Then he saw something else bad. His little guide-robot had been sliced in half by one of the moving blades.

“I should have put it in my pack,”” he said to himself.

He knew what direction the robot had been heading, and he could just follow that course until he came to the bio-dome. But that seemed risky… what if the robot was eventually going to change direction? That might be part of the game… Ruxto needed the guide-robots. That was obviously how the game was constructed. He wondered if he would have time to go get a new robot and come back before he bled to death.

Ruxto turned around and headed back towards the fan. He wanted to get there while it was still dark, then rest in the darkness of the black building. He took the ruined steel-blades that he had cut down and stuck them up into the dirt, marking the dangerous place for when he returned.

Focusing on the dark and thinking about nothing, he trudged back to the fan with his limp arm dangling. It tingled with barely-feeling at first, but soon went dead.

When he got back to the fan, the hum of the machinery was much too loud for him to get serious rest. He finished severing his right arm and wrapped the wound better. He filled up his flask again, then stole another worker-robot and put it in his pack. Ruxto walked back out into the night air, seeing the stars plus a moon which he hadn’t seen yet on this planet. It was a gray moon, dull in features but radiant in light-reflection.

He did not try to sleep, because he was so tired now that if he slept he was afraid he’d die. He walked slowly, and when the sun came up he ate the rest of his clone-meat, then took the new robot out of his pack and switched it to “Bio-Dome/Shuttle,” then followed it once again out into the desert.

The sun was high but not yet at its peak when Ruxto saw the gleam of yesterday’s blades sticking out of the sand ahead. Actually, he saw the gleam over an hour earlier but it was only now when he was close that he could see their shapes. So he put the robot in his pack again, took a swig of warm flask-water and gripped his laser. There would be no time for the sword, since he only had one hand. He kept walking towards the blades he had left as markers.

Before he got to the severed blades, another row of sharp metal prongs thrust up from the desert sands and began to move fast towards Ruxto. The ones he cut down had been replaced, and he started shooting with his laser. He shot down several of them before they reached him, so Ruxto didn´t have to use his sword. He jumped over the stumps and kept on walking.

Ruxto let the robot lead him again. He could still feel the energy he got from the last of his meat, but he could also feel it waning with his blood-loss. He hoped the Bio-Dome was close, but he still could not see it on the horizon.

Twice more that day Ruxto encountered a wall of blades. The first time he was quick enough to grab the robot and shoot down some blades before they could do any damage. The second time, he shot them down but one of the moving blade-stumps sliced through his left foot. He muttered an insult to Satan and wrapped up the wound. When he saw a glint at the edge of the horizon, he thought it would be more blades. But as he got closer, he thought it might be glass.

As darkness once more took over Ruxto saw that this new glint was from the giant Bio-Dome. His vision was getting blurry and his thoughts were simple, so he was glad the game seemed to be almost at an end. Pain poked at his mind from his foot and his shoulder. As he sat to rest he knew he could make it before sunrise, but he wanted to have the energy to face any obstacles that he might meet there.

The sun rose and Ruxto reached his destination without any of the expected obstacles. “Maybe this is it,” he said to himself. “Maybe the game is over and I won.” But he still kept his eyes peeled for danger.

The bio-dome seemed to be one massive glass-dome, a single-piece half circle that was hundreds of meters high and many kilometers across at the base. From his vantage point on the ground Ruxto could not see inside because the whole bottom of the bio-dome was framed in a bronze belt ten meters high. The glass above him reflected the sunlight and the black moon, refusing to give away its contents.

There was a double-door facing Ruxto as he approached, and a smaller door beside it. The little robot-guide went into the small door, which hissed with an air-lock as it opened. Above the double-door were white letters which read, “Welcome Human Number 1.” This was Ruxto’s greeting as the first person to ever play this planet-wide game.

There was a button on one of the doors, and Ruxto pressed it. Again he heard an air-lock hiss, louder this time, and the doors opened into a small room with more double-doors on the other side. The walls, ceiling and floor were all bronze. Ruxto hesitated before entering the small room, anticipating more debilitating adventures.

At this point his mental faculties were a dim light, barely lit, and it took everything he had just to limp through the door. He was in no shape to fight. He knew he could not out-think anybody or anything right now, and he resigned himself to whatever fate this room held for him. He went in and slumped to the metal floor, feeling cold metal as a refreshing variation from the hot desert. He sucked in cool air and felt instantly revitalized. His right shoulder pounded with pain as his heart began to beat a little stronger.

His dismal faith was rewarded as the opposite door opened, surprising him with an image of trees, foliage, grass and dark soil. He closed his eyes and breathed in the forset-smell. The tree-trunks were tall, and their leaves were all high up out of reach, so the forest was an open area with a shady canopy. He could feel a breeze, certainly artificially created but bearing the sweet smells of plant-life. He didn´t hear insects or animals, and he expected that there were none. Although, he remembered the other options on the little robot-guide, including “Bio-Dome/Animals.”

Still limping but now filled with a new energy, Ruxto stepped onto the soil with his good foot. The door closed behind him and he looked around at the trees. A happy guest in this strange home, he closed his eyes to take in the breeze, and a smile of relief pulled at his face. This was truly beautiful. An artificial forest on a far-off planet, and he was the first to see it. The pain of his broken body was a satisfying juxtapose to this gorgeous place.

He touched the brown bark of a tree. It was rough and rutty. He smelled it, then he bit it and tore off some bark. He chewed on it, not caring whether it was safe or not. He didn’t realize how much he had missed plant-life. What a strange thing, he thought, that plants are so naturally comforting.

Above him he could see the glass ceiling. There was no glare, but the shape of the sun was slightly distorted by the curved glass. He could barely see it through the canopy of leaves.

He walked through the trees, running his hand through green foliage and eating random stems and leaves. There were no thoughts in his head, just peace and relief.

Soon his tiredness came back even stronger and he knew he needed to rest. He lost enough blood that he would probably die, and he didn’t know how he could pilot a ship with only one arm. But maybe if he died then Unit Twelve would re-clone him here.

Either way, he wanted to find the shuttle before he sat to rest. Even more, he wanted to find another computer terminal that would answer more questions for him, or maybe even help him take care of his injuries.

After a couple kilometers he saw something white through the trees. Soon he came to the shuttle, a white arrow pointing upwards. It was trapped inside a glass cylinder which extended all the way up to the top of the dome. It stood on a glass pedestal, and there was a computer terminal beside it. Behind the shuttle-in-glass, there was a small white one-story building with a regular door and a doorknob. Ruxto didn’t even go up to them. When he saw they were there, he allowed himself to collapse on the ground, and he instantly fell asleep.

He woke up on a black slab.

Ruxto stared up at a canopy of green leaves, swaying in the artificial breeze. He took a deep breath. His body felt healthy, and his mind was instantly sharp and revitalized. He considered the many implications of these beautiful trees, and he stared at them with peace and a love of the universe.

His left arm had been replaced, and all his injuries were fixed. After he passed out, Unit Twelve must have fixed him or re-cloned him.

Sitting up on the slab he saw that he was right beside the white building and the glass cylinder. He walked on the soft soil and pulled at the door to the building, but it wouldn’t open. That must be where the machine worked on him.

Ruxto went over to the terminal, looking into the cylinder as he walked. The computer was identical to the one in the cave, and Ruxto spoke to it.

““Is the game over now?” he said. “Did I win?””

The machine printed, “the game is over and you can use the shuttle to leave the planet when you choose. You are also welcome to enjoy this bio-dome or one of the other bio-domes on Pledvi-L-5.”

““You should change the game,” Ruxto said. “Other humans might get really angry if you destroy their bodies and keep them on your planet for hundreds of years. You could offer different difficulty options, or develop a faster cloning system.”

The computer printed, “your input will affect future games. Any new input will also be considered.”

“How much food is in that ship?”” Ruxto said.

The computer told him that the ship could make food and water out of rocks, and it also had a miniature herb-garden and meat-garden.

He kept chatting with the computer, finding out whatever information he could get from it. He knew it wasn’t alive or self-conscious, but somehow it was still a stimulating conversation. The only problem was that all its information was thousands of years old. It didn’t know anything about Araquadigio Anastasio.

The breeze brought a momentary chill to Ruxto’s skin, even under his black suit. This game made him realize how fragile his body was out here in space. Back in Ruxto’s world his human body was stronger and faster than most, and he had an advantage. But if Ruxto was going to find Jimmothy Knack or Araquadigio Anastasio then he would need a body that was strong enough to travel across the vacuum of space, survive on desolate planets, and maybe fight ruthless robots. Unit Twelve on this planet had easily killed his body more than once. There was no way to know how other robot-seeds had evolved, and some of them might be genuinely hostile.

““What kinds of upgrades can you design for my body?”” Ruxto asked.

The machine printed, “that depends on time-constraints. Unit Twelve was built to experiment.”

Ruxto asked it to build him a new clone with strong synthetic bones and high-powered muslces. He also wanted to be able to breathe in space, plus withstand extreme heat and extreme cold, but those were advanced enhancements that he would worry about at a later time.

He said, ““can you also make books? Print me literature on chemistry, biology, genetics, physics, space travel, biotechnology and genetic-manipulation technology. See if you can find anything about complex synthetic genetics.””

Ruxto was only partially dismayed, and not at all surprised, that the machine took another three-thousand years to make his new body. He chose to be dead for the whole time, asking the computer to destroy his body and only wake him up when his new body was ready.

There was strength in this new body, and Ruxto tested it by climbing tall trees and jumping out of them. He didn’t break any bones or even twist an ankle. In this new body he could still feel pain, but it required a lot more damage to really make him suffer.

He took his books into the ship. He also brought some branches and soil, and he collected seeds and fruit and acorns. This was very pleasant and peaceful, and his violent past seemed like a distant memory.

Then he flew away in the space shuttle, going into outer space to find Jimmothy Knack, who would lead him to Araquadigio Anastasio, if either of them were still alive.

The End

Robo Planet Game part 3

mpayne

part 3 of a story by Matthew Payne

read part 1 and 2 here and here.

Ruxto Chexter woke up on the black slab, mere feet from where he had died. He felt fantastic and his mind was alert. Sitting up, he looked towards the part of the cave where the floor rose up towards the machine. He didn’t see any blood stains where he had died. When he looked closer, he saw that there actually were blood stains… they were just covered by sand and dust.

He remembered the lasers. He thought he remembered getting cut up by them… but he didn’t remember any pain. The machine had said that when he got re-cloned it would remove his very final memories to avoid trauma. Thus, Ruxto wasn’t angry or frightened at all.

Ruxto went up to the machine again and said, “is the game still going, or does it restart each time I die?”

The machine printed, “the game restarts each time you die.”

Ruxto said, “how long did it take to clone this new body?”

The machine printed, “seventy-two years.”

Ruxto said, “what should I do for water?”

The machine printed, “this planet has very little natural water, none of which is accessible to you. There is atomically converted water in the biodomes and at the atomic-conversion-fans.”

Ruxto thought about this. He wanted his laser from the shuttle, and he had to go to get water from the atomic conversion fan he had seen. What could he carry water in, though? He’d have to go to the shuttle and get a container, then go to the big fan to get water. But, then what? Which way was the biodome? That didn’t matter yet. His first prerogative was to get his laser back.

Clad in the same black getup, Ruxto went out into the desert again, seeing the black object fly across the desert before him. He got back up on the rock again to see which way the crashed shuttle was, and he walked towards it.

The sand was soft beneath his feet and the air was dry. The sun beat down cruelly into his right eye, and he shielded it with his hand. He couldn´t see the shuttle from the ground, but he remembered it was just a little to the left of the rich red moon. He would try to track the movement of the moon so he could maintain a straight path as it moved across the sky of Pledvi-L-5.

He heard an explosion far ahead and to his right. He looked and saw, a couple kilometers away, the flying black thing shooting a laser-beam down onto a rock. Why was it shooting at a rock? Ruxto tentatively surmised that it was programmed to shoot at anything below it that wasn´t sand. The shooting ended and the black thing flew on in a straight line.

Ruxto knew how to keep his mind at peace as he walked. He emptied his mind and kept his eyes open. Over-thinking drained useful energy. When thoughts came, he let them fall away.

He walked on for hours, ignoring the beginnings of thirst. The sun was going down to his right as the red moon flew off further to his left. Behind him, a dark moon was rising. It looked black against the colorful sunset of red and yellow.

He repeated the meditative mantras of Niconachia Chexter, his adopted wizard-father.

All the world is Evil and all things are the Will of Satan. Only in our hearts does Goodness exist, and only through our actions shall Goodness come temorarily into the world.

Ruxto remembered the many things that Niconachia had taught him. Things about Satan, and the moons. Things about Ruxto’s visions.

In Ruxto´s world, the stars moved around quickly, and day and night came and went randomly. Uncountable moons flew around slowly, following no pattern. The land there was endless, stretching on and on. There were no planets, just endless land.

Niconachia had tried to count the moons, to record which ones came and went, how long they were gone and when they came back. Others had tried before him, but there were so many moons that there was no way to label them all. Nichonachia also had no success with labeling the moons, but he had discerned a pattern, a rhythm in their movement. He had been killed before learning more, and his papers were either destroyed, lost or stolen.

This world was different, in some ways. There was no endless land here, but there was endless space and many planets. Ruxto enjoyed the beauty of huge planets swirling around suns. People were mostly milder here. Their futures were more secure than where Ruxto came from, a land with lots of terror and violence.

It had taken time for him to understand the difference between technology and magic, but now he understood it exceptionally and enjoyed it. In his mind, there was no magic in this universe, and science was different in his old universe. Did Satan create this world too? He thought of the darkness of space. He repeated his mantras to remind him of Satan, to keep his will strong against weakness and evil. Then he cleared his mind and walked on in silence.

It was getting darker, and less hot. In his meditative silence he once again noticed the constant hum. Was it the atomic-conversion fans? Probably. It would take a lot of power for them to maintain a breathable atmosphere.

Ahead of him red and blue and yellow lights shot out from a mound of sand, illuminating it. A white robot rose up, a short floating cylinder with arms and a glowing head. It flew up into the air. Its arms were black swords.

It flew at Ruxto and Ruxto backed off, drawing his own sword. With his impaired vision, the black blades were barely visible in the twilight. His own sword was also black, and he held it out in front of him with both hands.

The robot was swinging its swords in a pattern as it approached its prey. Ruxto waited for the right moment and then slammed his sword against both blades of the robot. To his surprise, the swing pushed the robot back several meters, spinning and wobbling out of control before it regained its composure. Those blades looked really sharp, but the robot was barely staying in the air. Ruxto wanted to knock it around and bash in its head while it was out of control.

The robot came back, but changed its slicing-pattern. It inserted little stabs and wider slices into the interweaving strokes of its two blades. Ruxto made a swing and hit one sword, wobbling the machine, but the robot quickly stabbed into Ruxto´s left shoulder. He smashed it away and the robot clunked to the dirt before its thrusters, blowing away sand beneath it, pushed the machine back up into the air. Ruxto got another swing in, denting its head, but then it flew up and away and re-focussed on Ruxto again.

His left arm was bleeding, but not badly.

The robot came back and he tried something new. He took a wide swing and sent the robot spinning, then he leapt into the air and swung his sword down, knocking the spinning machine towards the ground. He hit it again, and the robot used its sword-arms to catch itself on the ground. Ruxto tried to stab the point of his sword into the robot´s white casing, but it was too thick and his sword clunked away. The robot spun around swinging its swords and rising up. Ruxto jumped back to avoid getting sliced.

He kept employing the same tacitc: disorient it with a sword-strike then smash at its head. Soon there were sparks flying from it and its movements were jerky and clumsy. Ruxto was able to knock it on the ground face-down and smash off one of the arms. Then it flew away, cutting him a couple times again, but it was badly hurt and wobbling around in the air, sending sparks. When it took a swing with its one remaining arm, it got knocked off balance and spun around. Ruxto managed to beat it down, then broke it apart to see what was inside. There were mechanical parts and a power-supply, and all the software seemed to be within crystal computer-chips, the kind Ruxto had read about. Most software was held on microscopic coils now, as he understood. But this machine was descended from centuries-old technology. The crystal chips were just as good as the microscopic coils, but the coils were cheaper, smaller and more open-ended. He took a crystal chip and one of the robot´s sword-arms with him. The bleeding in his arm had stopped, and there were no bacteria here to infect him. The fight had got his blood flowing, and he felt good.

Before it got completely dark Ruxto came to his shuttle. It was cool outside, but Ruxto was still thirsty and it was giving him a headache. The small ship was mostly still in once piece, smashed into a crater it had created in the ground. Winds had blown the sand over the shuttle´s impact-rubble in the last 147 years, so it looked like a natural formation sticking out of the sand. Pieces of white steel-debris also stuck out of the dirt, where they had smashed off the shuttle and got partially covered by wind-blown sands.

The cockpit had been completely destroyed. In the back there was a huge observation-window that had been smashed by the crash. Ruxto climbed into the dark shuttle and found the door to his sleeping-room.

He was inside the room where he had first died. He remembered holding Melinda´s hand, then waking up on the slab. This is where his laser should be, and his books. He wanted to find a bag, too. And a container for water. But it was completely dark and he couldn´t see a thing. The room was at a slant, and he walked to the bottom to see if his laser had slid down to the bottom. Grasping around with his hands, he found the familiar L-shaped weapon. He pointed it at the window and squeezed the plastic trigger. It fired a red beam out through the broken window and into the sky. Ruxto smiled. Success.

Were his books down here too? And his knife? On his hands and knees he wandered towards the shelf, and then his hand bumped into something small, which went rolling away. He reached out and picked up a little ball, the size of an eyeball. He searched a bit more and found a second one. There was absolutely no light, so he climbed up to his chair beside the window and used moonlight to look at the two balls. He saw that they were his original eyeballs, one fully blue and the other fully red, each with a black pupil. Where was the rest of his head? It couldn´t have rotted out here where it´s dry and there are no bacteria. The robots must have taken the head but left the eyes for some reason.

He was very pleased. If he died and got re-cloned now he might lose his laser again but maybe Unit Twelve would clone his new body with these original eyes.

Ruxto curled up on his white chair and slept with his eyes and his laser in his arms. Sleeping was easy after walking in the hot sun. He woke with a pasty mouth, desiring water. In the morning-light he searched the shuttle until he found his books and a bag to carry his things in. He took two books (The Birth of Tragedy and The Art of War), plus his knife, computer-glasses and a flask for water. He kept his eyeballs in his pocket.

He climbed back out onto the dirt of the desert through the broken window, sunlight reflecting off the still-sharp broken-shards. He put his bag down and climbed on top of the shuttle to look for the atomic-conversion-fan. The machine in the cave said there was water at the fan. Ruxto could hear the hum of a fan, and saw a black thing that might be one.

It looked like half a day’s walk or more. Ruxto was hungry now too, but not feeling weak yet. He would have a sunburn soon. What kinds of radiation would he get from this alien sun? Maybe Unit Twelve had built an ozone with the atmosphere to stop dangerous radiation.

Still standing on the shuttle, dressed stark black against the blue sky, Ruxto held his eyeballs up in his right hand.

¨Unit Twelve!” He shouted. ¨Omni-Seed! If I die, put these eyeballs in my new clone!¨

He didn´t know if any of the Unit-Twelve machines could hear him, or if they would do what he asked, but he tried.

The black flying-thing shot down more lasers on a rock far away. Ruxto watched it, amused. When he had been on Earth he had watched wildlife videos. This was a strange sort of wildlife. The planet was occupied by robots with a misguided mandate to entertain human beings. Out here in space they had no competition and no predators.

He put all his things in the bag from the shuttle and headed out towards the black fan. He expected to be very thirsty and in some pain before he reached it, but he would survive the walk as long as Unit Twelve didn´t send anymore enemies. Of course, Unit Twelve would send more danger, and Ruxto wondered whether he would survive everything he encountered, especially if he went too long without food or water.

Ruxto walked on towards the fan as the black moon and the bright sun both rose high into the sky from different directions. The image of the fan did not seem to get bigger. The fan must be both larger and farther away than Ruxto had originally guessed. He had never gone long without water. When would thirst begin to sap his energy? Hunger soon became hard to ignore. As the sun beat down he felt weariness and discomfort. Almost nausea. The sun passed over the halfway mark and started to descend, but the fan still looked like it had in the morning. Far away and tiny.

Dry skin and cracked lips… Ruxto ignored it, focusing on movement. Yesterday his mouth was pasty… today there was no moisture at all. He was too dry to talk, but that was OK because there was nobody to talk to.

He was used to hardship and no part of his mind complained about this day of pain. He had been a traveler and a wandering warrior all his life, on different planets and in a different universe. He had seen enemies and comrades cough up blood with their last breaths. But in his home-universe, there had been no lack of food and water. There were deserts, but they were small.

He slept that night on dry sand, using his bag of shuttle-items as a hard pillow. The flying black thing could fly over at any moment and kill Ruxto, but he needed to sleep and so he did. He kept the white laser beside him, just in case.

He woke up with the sun half-risen over the horizon. The flying black thing was closer than he had ever seen it. He saw its shape now, a flat rhombus spinning around as it flew in one direction and then another. It was flying towards him fast, so he grabbed his stuff and ran off to the side away from its path. The black thing flew overhead behind him without noticing him.

The black fan actually looked bigger now than it had last evening. Maybe it was a trick of the light or wishful thinking. Or maybe he just hadn´t noticed the image grow bigger yesterday, since he´d been walking and the apparent change would have been very gradual. Right now though, it looked much closer. He could see individual blades spinning in the huge fan-casing. The whole fan was probably bigger than a skyscraper back on Earth. Ruxto didn´t know if he would reach it today. His head hurt from dehydration, and his mind felt a little scattered from general fatigue. It would be another horribly thirsty day. Good. He had developed a jovially confrontational relationship with pain, and he smiled with his mouth when he thought about how much this would hurt before it was done. In his groggy mind he made his peace with Satan and evil and made his body walk.

He had experienced no real hardships since Jimmothy Knack brought him to this universe. He´d been out of his element to some extent, trying to make himself useful in this alien universe. But now he was alone again in a dismal world, and at peace with his thoughts. The debilitating visions he´d had in the last world were gone now, and the rage and frustration went with them. They had served their purpose by drawing him to this world. He no longer felt the nagging desperation that had partially fuelled his search. He had traveled farther than most people could imagine, and had progressed far along a path he had chosen. He could not foresee the end of his journey. He didn´t even know what he was going to do when he got off this planet, but there was something grim and colorful in the situation he was mired in, and he was engaged and not afraid.

There was a long, deep, thin ravine that cut across his path to the fan. He saw it first as a far-off edge, a line in the sand. But as he got closer he saw that it was a thin gorge that stretched to the horizon in both directions.

I could almost jump it, he thought to himself.

The fan was bigger now. He wouldn´t reach it by nightfall, but he might get there before noon tomorrow. He had adjusted to these weaker eyes. They felt normal now.

The ravine seemed bottomless. The edge of it was all hardpan, since all the soft sand had fallen in the crevice. The dirt walls ran straight up, solid and flat with no handholds.

He put his things down and sat by the edge. In both directions the ravine stayed just as wide, so there was no point in trying to find a spot for a shorter jump. There was nothing to make a bridge with. He´d have to run and jump.

It was only a few feet across. Ruxto was strong enough to jump it, but he was weak from dehydration and hunger. He might fall in. It was very deep.

One of the things Niconachia had taught Ruxto was to accept his own doom. Everybody was doomed, as all human life was temporary. That had benefited him when Niconachia’s killers drafted (enslaved) him into their barbarian army and forced him to kill when he was a boy. He saw more blood in his youth than he ever would as a man. His father had once said, ¨stare into the abyss, and smile.¨ So staring down into the bottomless crevice was almost like being home. All the colorful places he´d seen, the orange-forest vistas north of his birthplace and the visual symphony of the endless moons, he still always saw doom behind it. Satan, the evil Creator, and eventual doom. If you were at peace with it, then you could be strong against it.

Ruxto threw his bag across to the other side of the ravine. Then he took some big steps back and ran towards the edge. Adrenaline counteracted his weak muscles and the thirsty ache in his bones. Jumping from his right leg, he leaped across the hole. But he fell short. His toe hit the far wall, and then his chest slammed into it while he scrambled frantically with his arms and his hands to claw himself up onto the top. But then the edge of the cliff was beyond his reach as he fell down into the darkness. Sand fell with him and he watched the line of blue sky get further and thinner. Two pebbles fell with him, and he could see them by his face as if they were suspended in air. He didn´t yell or curse, but he couldn´t help grimacing from disappointment. He would get re-cloned, but then he would have to travel across this desert again… maybe only to fall into the same hole.

He fell for a long time. Why wasn´t he hitting the bottom? Freefalling was peaceful though… he found himself enjoying it, not even worried about the bottom.

But the ravine was deeper than he knew. Thicker gases waited below the breatheable air, and Ruxto was unconscious when his body was smashed to bloody pieces on the rocks, invisible in the darkness.

Robo Planet Game part 2

mpayne

Part 2 of a story by Matthew Payne

For part 1, go here

Ruxto woke up on a shiny black slab in a cave. He was stretched out on his back, and he felt especially comfortable and healthy. His body felt good. The cave was shallow and let out to a vast desert. Ruxto heard wind and a distant hum. His vision was blurry.

But of course none of this made any sense. Where was his crashing ship? Where were his shipmates, Melinda and Granger?

Ruxto sat up on the slab, feeling it with his finger. It was stone, and perfectly cut. His sword hung at his hip in its sheath. He pulled it out and looked at the blade. “But I left my sword back on Earth, because it’s useless to me here. How do I have it here?” His laser was gone.

In the back of the cave there was a machine. Ruxto walked up to it, climbing the slight incline. It was a two-piece machine: a large blue box with lights and buttons, and a tall black dome poking out of the stone wall. The blue box also had a screen, and as Ruxto approached, the screen lit up. Words were displayed, and Ruxto had to squint to read: “Welcome human to Pledvi-L-5, seeded by Omni-seed fourth generation. Please read the note printed below.”

A note was being printed on thick paper below the screen. Ruxto read it.

“Ruxto Chexter:

You have died during crash-landing on planet Pledvi-L-5. This planet has been seeded by Omni-seed Generation Four Unit Twelve. It has been zoned as an entertainment planet, and built for an adventure-game. You are the first human to make contact with an Omni-seed. News has been sent to the other Omni-planets and to Earth.

Your original body was destroyed, but your brain-image has been uploaded to a cloned body. Your eyes were un-cloneable, so Unit Twelve gave you regular eyeballs with the same blue and red appearance. The last half-second of memory before your death has been deleted from your brain-image to avoid emotional trauma. You are ready to begin the entertainment-adventure. Ask a question, or ask to be told about the game.”

Ruxto considered this message. If it was true then he was stranded on a desert planet, alive in a new clone. What about Granger and Melinda? Had they been cloned too?

He looked at the machine. “How do I ask a question?” He said to it.

The machine printed more thick paper. The paper said, “you can ask questions out loud and you will be answered on paper.”

Ruxto said, “where are my ship-mates, Melinda and Granger?”

The machine printed more paper: “their brain-image-capsules were cracked in the crash-landing. Yours was intact, so you were retrieved. Their bodies, as well as your own body, were broken down to feed your current cloned body.”

Ruxto was alone. light years from earth, a synthetic man from another universe, with bad eyesight: He had seen much more clearly with his original eyes.

He said, “where did this sword come from?”

The machine printed, “Unit Twelve reconstructed the sword based on your memories. It will help you in the game.”

He walked down to the black slab again and looked out into the desert. The sky was blue and the sand was deep yellow. Ruxto saw dark rock outcroppings, but not many.

He walked up to the machine and said, “how is there breathable air?”

The machine printed, “atomic conversion machines break down any gases, liquids or solids into any other element. The gases of this planet and the rocks from the mountains are turned into oxygen and nitrogen, plus other chemicals, for breathable air. The sand is also broken down. There are hundreds of atomic-conversion-fans on Pledvi-L-5. Several biodomes also create oxygen. Unit Twelve is building more biodomes.”

Ruxto remembered when he had learned the difference between science and magic. Now that he understood some of it, he still couldn’t shake the magical feeling of awe at some of the things he saw science do. Converting stone to air felt like a magical thing, even if science did it. In his world there was magic, and science was a different thing.

“What is the game?” Ruxto said. “You keep mentioning it.”

The machine printed, “you must travel across the desert to the closest biodome. Inside the biodome there is food, water, and a small ship for space travel.”

Ruxto said, “that sounds boring. What kind of game is that?”

The machine printed, “Unit Twelve will attempt to destroy your current cloned body, and you will have to battle the elements. Your brain-image will be loaded into a new clone each time you are killed and you can try again.”

Ruxto said, “I don’t want to play the game. I just want to take your spaceship and leave this planet. Can I do that?”

The machine printed, “the spaceship is in the biodome. You can travel there and Unit Twelve will try to kill you. The game begins after you leave the cave. No real harm is intended. Just enough to create the illusion of risk for the game.”

Wind blew softly into the cave. Ruxto suddenly wanted to see the sun and moons of this planet.

He said, “so, what do I do? Should I just walk out into the desert? Where should I go? How will Unit Twelve try to kill me?”

The machine printed, “If you die, then learn from the mistake that got you killed. That is the only available suggestion for how to play the game.”

Ruxto looked out into the desert and wondered which way the biodome was. How would he know which way to go? He’d have to get up on top of the cave to look in all directions. Would he die again? Would he be re-cloned again?

“How long did it take to make my cloned body?” he asked.

The machine said, “seventy-five years. Your old body had synthetic enhancements that were difficult to re-grow.”

“Will it take that long to make each new one?”

The machine said, “no. Unit Twelve has already studied your DNA and your original body, so the research will not have to be done again. Your synthetically enhanced lungs will be especially useful here.”

He didn’t look forward to this game, but he didn’t seem to be in any real danger. It was too bad that Granger and Melinda were dead, but Ruxto had not been close to them, and with the knowledge that seventy-five years had passed their deaths seemed more distant.

“Why did they die? How did we crash?” he asked the machine.

The machine printed, “Unit Twelve used a radiation-beam to pull the shuttle downwards. It overstressed your ship’s engine and you fell to the ground. Unit Twelve will compensate for this in future encounters.”

Ruxto said, “you killed them and destroyed our ship… but it was a mistake. You’ve already caused enough harm. Let’s just skip the game, and you tell me how to get to your ship and get off this planet.”

If it had really been seventy-five years then his contract with the Galaxers would be over. Now his only concern (and really, it had always been his primary concern), was to find Araquadigio Anastasio. But he had to get off this planet first.

The machine printed, “Unit Twelve is a game-engine based on virtual and pre-virtual video-game scenarios. The escape shuttle is part of Unit Twelve and part of the game. You must overcome Unit Twelve’s obstacles to reach Unit Twelve’s escape shuttle.”

Ruxto walked back down to the slab and out to the mouth of the cave. He was wearing a black suit constructed by Unit Twelve, with straps and metal clips in different places to keep it all together. His red and blue eyes peered out at the sand. He liked this sword, but he would rather have the laser.

The sun wasn’t in sight. It was behind the cave. Ruxto stepped out into the light and walked forwards a bit before turning around to look back at the cave. It was at the base of a small stone outcropping. To Ruxto’s right he saw that the outcropping sloped shallowly enough that he could climb it.

The sun shone on the bald black rock, and it was hot as Ruxto leaned forward to walk up it, steadying himself with a hand. Finally he stood on the crown and looked around him in a circle. The desert-planet around him was almost bare, but there were some obstructions in the sand. Ruxto saw one of the atomic-conversion-fans several kilometers away, a gigantic structure blowing air out before it. There was a brown sandless patch beneath the fan where it had blown the dirt away. This was behind the cave, just under the yellow sun. Ruxto thought he saw another huge fan further away in another direction, but it might have been a black rock.

He didn’t see anything that looked like it could be called a biodome. In the very far distance there were specks that could not be identified.

He did find one thing of interest, though. Squinting against the sun Ruxto made out the white shape of his crashed space shuttle. His laser would be there. His laser and his books. Would the laser still work after seventy-five years in the desert?

Something black flew across the blue sky. It flew in a straight line… an aircraft, not a bird. Was this how Unit Twelve would kill Ruxto? But the black spot flew out into the distance and Ruxto looked back at the dirt of the desert between him and his crashed ship. It looked like it would be hours of walking in the desert with no water, and there was certainly no water waiting for him in the crashed ship. How would he survive? This was a dilemma. He went back inside the cave to talk to the machine again.

Back in the cool shadows Ruxto said, “I have no water. Have you provided water for this game?”

The machine printed, “The game has begun and Unit Twelve is now your opponent, as are all machines on this planet.”

Ruxto stepped back from the machine as it shot several lasers at him. He turned to run but the lasers cut him in half, then into several pieces. He felt his torso tip over with no legs below.

Robo Planet Game

mpayne

Part one of a story by Matthew Payne

Ruxto leaned back in his seat and looked at the report he just wrote. It was a summary of the last seeded-planet they had visited. It had been a disappointing planet. The robot-seed had crash-landed almost a thousand years ago, and all Ruxto found were the ruined remains of the original factory-ship. That meant that the whole solar system was empty of robot-life, since the seed-robots were programmed to send only one seed to any individual solar system.

The chair Ruxto sat in was white plastic, stuffed with duck-down. It could fold into a comfortable single-bed. To the left of his face a window looked out to the stars. The software attached to his brain recognized constellations and told him what they were. In order to take this job he had been required to accept several implants. He needed lung implants, with a compressed-air compartment. He had his bones strengthened and many of his muscles replaced with synthetic contracting-sinew. He replaced the sword from his home with a laser-pistol and a knife. His debilitating visions of a strange world had been replaced with soothing dreams at night. He still had his different coloured eyes – one solid red with a black pupil, the other solid blue.

Granger came in through the liquid door. Granger was very thin and tall. He was a clone, engineered for space-travel. He had a piece of paper in his hand and a smile stretched across his face.

“There’s a robot-seed on Pledvi-L-5.”

Ruxto said, “how? The Pledvi seed died on impact on Pledvi-L-2.”

Granger said, “it’s not from the Pledvi seed! It’s from the Omni seed, and it’s only four-hundred years old!”

Ruxto put down his report. “That’s interesting. It seems like the Omni-seed made it to the Omni-system, then set up a factory and sent more seeds out. One of those seeds must have made it here.”

Granger nodded, and his long neck swung his head far back and forth.

“So it’s OK that we haven’t found a good planet yet. At least one seed has made it to the factory-stage: the Omni-seed. And it’s seeding other planets. I’m completely reassured right now. We will eventually find a planet that has been terraformed or bio-domed. Maybe it will be Pledvi-L-5.”

“Are we moving to the planet yet?”

Granger said, “we’re about to change direction. The Galaxers will be happy we found this. I wonder what we’ll find. Nobody’s found a second-generation seed except the corporations, and they don’t share their information.”

Ruxto said, “they don’t share their information, but it’s pretty common-knowledge that they’ve found dangerous robots. That’s almost what I’m hoping for here. Something to fight.”

He wasn’t lying. He had lived his life as a killer in two different worlds, but now he was living an easy life and doing a tedious job, flying through empty space and making reports about non-events and empty planets. But his personal mission was important enough that he was willing to endure long times of quiet. He used it to read, meditate and practice weaponry and martial arts. He had peace of mind, and there was always paperwork to do and reports to write. Any info or observations from the frontiers of human-space were of great use to the people back in the Earth solar system.

“We don’t know what to expect,” Granger said. “The planet is sending out the safe-seeded signal, but it’s sending out other signals too. We don’t understand them all.”

“Well I’ll go down by myself then,” Ruxto said. “Just in case the robots have become dangerous.” That was his job. He was hired as security.

Granger said, “we can all go down in an energy bubble. I haven’t even stepped foot on any of the planets or moons we visited yet, and this one holds the most promise. I want to see it first hand.”

In the cockpit, Ruxto stood beside Granger. They looked towards the planet they wanted to land on. It was massive on their screen, magnified by a computer. They were still hours away. The planet was yellow and black, sand and rocks.

Granger said, “the beacon says they have several bio-domes with vegetation and the whole planet has breathable air because of massive machines. I hope it’s true! Can you imagine?”

Ruxto was curious, wondering what it was like inside the bio-domes.

He said, “It would be nice to stay there and enjoy the planet. We weren’t paid for that though. We have to label it on the map, hospitable or inhospitable. Then move on to the next solar system.”

There was a long panel of lights and buttons beneath the screen. This was how Granger piloted the shuttle.

“I still can’t understand the other signals coming from the planet.”

Ruxto said, “what kind of signals?”

“Bursts of radiation.”

Ruxto Chexter was studying an encyclopedia, displayed on the back of black sunglasses as he sat in his white chair. He looked up the Omni-seed and found that a non-profit technology-group had designed it and thousands of identical seeds that went out in a massive wave three-thousand years ago. They were built to experiment with terraforming methods, to adapt to unexpected alien landscapes. When they got to the point of producing new seeds to send out into space, the Omni-seed and its identical brothers were programmed to experiment with new types of seeds. The new seeds would be built based on the Omni-seed’s observations of the surrounding planetary environment. Ruxto wondered what kinds of improvisation the Omni-seed might have employed in sending a new seed here to a different solar system. The encyclopedia said that the destination solar system for the Omni-seed was seventy light years away, four solar systems away. Ruxto thought about how far the seed had traveled, and how fast it had to move. The Omni-seed must have been experimenting with types of transportation too. This one must have moved fast. Ruxto wanted to see the planet where the original Omni-seed had landed. He wondered what that alien-colony would look like. Did it terraform, or build a biodome? What had this new seed, this child of the Omni-seed, built within its biodomes in this solar system?

Melinda entered through the liquid door. She was pretty, with serene green eyes and short black hair. She was the third member of the three-member crew. She leaned against the wall in her tight white two-piece suit.

She said, “maybe we can just live in one of the biodomes down on Pledvi-L-5. Exotic trees and fruits, self-cleaning ponds, servant-robots.”

Ruxto switched off the encyclopedia in his glasses and said, “I want to see other planets, and other robots. We don’t even know if this planet is safe yet.”

Melinda shifted and leaned on her left arm instead of her right. She was smiling at Ruxto, then looked out the window as she talked to him.

“If we crash land somewhere,” she said, “I’m supposed to repopulate any seeded planet with Granger. It’s in my contract.”

Ruxto said, “You’ll be the mother of all the human life on one planet.”

Melinda said, “can you keep a secret? If we crash land I’m coming to find you first.”

Ruxto said, “I’d be a bad father. It will be a long time before I settle down. It would be nice to have a kid though. To train it.”

“Train it?” Then she changed the subject: “what’s with your eyes? You’re obviously a clone, but why are your eyes a different color?”

Ruxto said, “I’ve been told that it’s the trademark of the man who made me. One red eye, one blue eye in all his creatures.”

“Creatures?” Melinda had her arms crossed and looked down at him incredulously. “He doesn’t just make humans?”

Ruxto wondered how much to tell her. “He makes whatever he can. Well, that’s what I’ve heard. I never met him, though I hope I will eventually.”

Melinda looked confused. “You were cloned, but not by a corporation? That’s illegal, isn’t it? They wouldn’t let you in to the Galaxers if you were an illegal clone.”

Ruxto said, “I’m not in the Galaxers, remember? I’m a mercenary, here to protect you and Granger. But I was cloned somewhere else… not really cloned though. Or maybe cloned… I don’t know.”

Melinda said, “somewhere else? Do you mean Mars?” She spoke cautiously, not understanding but not wanting to offend him. “The clone-laws are still enforced on Mars.”

Ruxto said, “Have you ever heard of Jimmothy Knack?”

“Yeah, he used math equations to convince some scientists that he was from another universe, right?”

Ruxto said, “yes. Do you believe him?”

Melinda shook her head. “Why would I believe that? Do you believe him?” She seemed amused.

Ruxto looked out the window. “I believe him.”

Melinda laughed. “Why did you ask me about Jimmothy Knack?”

“Don’t you have experiments to do?”

“I’m nervous about that planet,” she said. “Nervous and excited. I hope it’s inhabitable.”

The shuttle shook back and forth unexpectedly, knocking Melinda to the ground. Ruxto was thrown up in the air and then back down hard onto the soft chair. From the window was a strong purple glow which Ruxto couldn’t explain. There were no stars. The shuttle kept shaking.

Melinda was on the ground on all fours, looking up at Ruxto. She didn’t scream. She said, “what’s going on?”

Ruxto looked down through his black glasses. “I don’t know.” He smiled. “Maybe this is our emergency.”

She said, “that’s not even funny. Where’s Granger?”

Ruxto tried to stand but got thrown back into his seat by the shuttle’s turbulence. “He’s probably trying to pilot the shuttle.”

The lights went out completely and the turbulence stopped. Ruxto felt weightlessness.

He heard Melinda say, “I’m not on the ground… I can’t touch the ground.”

He felt like he was falling, and the shuttle was falling too. He floated up by the window, where the purple glow persisted. Looking at an angle, he could see the desert-planet through the purple glow. They were close to the planet, rushing towards it very fast. They were about to die, smashed on the planet. They all had brain-image storage, but there was nowhere here to upload their brains to after the shuttle was smashed. Ruxto was very surprised. He thought he had good reasons to believe that he would live long enough to meet his father. He thought he would still live for thousands of years. But he saw the ground getting closer and closer.

Melinda said, “Ruxto! What do we do?”

Ruxto pushed away from the window and found her.

“Here,” he said. “Hold my hand until the lights come back on.”